by Grover Young
“But?” she asked, hearing my pause.
“Their long range mass drivers will tear even an M1 Abrams to pieces in seconds,” I replied grimly, “and in the event they run out of ammo before their automation can reload from local resources, they have plasma burners that, although short range, arc at 25,000 degrees C.”
“And his morphers can form one of those too,” she remembered her briefings.
“Yes,” I acknowledged, “and his Skin is much better than mine. This can stop small arms fire pretty good.” I tugged at the collar, “His can stop anything short of a cannon. That's why all they found of that one Visitor was only a foot. We had to hit it with shit so overwhelming that there wasn't much left afterward.
“The point is, although I might be able to shout 'Shazam' and turn into Captain Marvel,” I took a deep breath calming the stress that even thinking about my dilemma caused me, “that me, THAT body is unfamiliar to me that at best I'll be clumsy. The reason for all the special training is to accustom us to our new bodies and powers as well as teaching us all that special operation stuff. Additionally, as powerful as a Prometheus endowed Pantheon Team member might be, one Visitor and his bodyguard robots can easily level this entire city block and me with it.”
I left off the qualifier. In what testing I did do before becoming useless to everyone including myself, I did rate very high. That didn't particularly make me feel very comfortable given that of the five highest rated ever, three were dead, one was a crippled vegetable leaving just one who was still active on the Teams.
“What are you not telling me?” Sheila gave me that look. She knew me too well.
“That I really don't know what I can do,” I hedged, “There's no guarantee that I'll be of any use at all. You stayed with me and helped calmed my anxiety attack, that one time I changed for you, but transforming is not easy. The Q-Box is like a jump-starter. It only helps initiate the whole process. Older more experienced Pantheon's don't even bother with it. They can not only just will the change; they can stay hero'ed-up much longer. Even the cool down, before they can change again is shorter. The inexperienced, like me, need all the help they can get making it happen. I have to push hard to trigger the change.”
“So the inverse is true too,” she guessed right, “If you really lose it, you'll change back.”
“Exactly,” I nodded, “the other night when I showed you THAT me, I didn't quite reach that point. You did a lot to help keep me from losing it. That was why I never made it to a Team. It would be just plain stupid to risk those lives with me being so unstable.
“The odds of me being able to capture him just plain suck,” I walked her through my reasoning, “All it would do is seriously endanger everyone here. Even if we pulled the fire alarm, the panic could cost lives and perhaps cause him and his robotic guards to react badly. Far, far better to just play it cool,” I was having second thoughts about sending for help, but it had gotten our guys out of here.
Looking heavenward, I prayed for a miracle, "Please Lord, just let the Tweety go home before something bad happens, Amen."
Chapter Three
You would've thought that when Credence Clearwater Revival's 'Bad Moon Rising' began playing we would've gotten a clue, but sadly, no. We were so intent about possible trouble from the pair in the corner, we made a major mistake.
We'd forgotten this was a wild Halloween party, and it was getting wilder the drunker everyone got. The booze was flowing, and passions were riding high. Factor in we were in a War in which nearly everyone had lost those dear to them, and then put one of those who'd rained death down from the heavens where he could be seen, then you have a problem.
With the room so crowded, we didn't pay the drunk who passed us with exaggerated care. That is until he got into the Visitor's face.
“F'ing Tweety!” he slurred, belligerently, “You should all fly back to your F'ing bird cage.”
“It's just a costume,” the frightened Mentat did his best to defuse the drunk.
My and Sheila's “Oh Shit” went without saying. The Visitor didn't appear alarmed, but with Aliens who knew. I found myself moving before I'd actually decided on what to do.
“Stinking Tweeties think they can just take over our planet,” the Drunk continued, working himself up.
“Hey Friend,” I said, grasping the guy by the shoulder. Second thoughts ran though my head as it hit me just how big he was. I was only 5' 8” and this bruiser was well over six feet plus he outweighed me to boot.
As he turned around to glare at me, I realized he was probably military too, given his buzz cut, muscle mass and, although drunk, the way he moved. Undoubtedly, he'd been Captain America'ed with some sort of super-soldier formula that all the armed services had embraced.
“Pantheon,” I touched my shoulder patch, “we have it all under control. Come on; let me buy you a drink.”
“Poser!” He snarled, having found a target for his anger.
My face exploded in pain as I flew backwards, spraying blood from my busted nose before bouncing to a stop on the floor. Here I am dressed in the best all purpose armor humanity could devise and he hits me in the one place where I'm not protected.
“You shouldn't have made me angry,” I blinked away the tears and wiped at the blood from my smashed schnoz. One of the things I didn't tell Sheila was that enough good old fashioned adrenalin would work just as well as the Q-Box to kick-start the 'Shazam' thing, “You won't like me angry.”
He laughed and began to turn back around. Fine, I'd had about enough of this joker. I pushed the button.
Blinded by the flash of light that heralded my change his mouth hit the proverbial floor, and he wasn't the only one staring in shocked surprise. Mr. Mentat looked as if he just soiled himself, and even our Visitor looked dismayed, half-raising from his seat as if in alarm.
I knew what they were seeing, although I did my best not to think about it. A very tall extremely curvy, but supremely fit woman who, while not as excessively ripped as an obsessed body-builder, each and every muscle was as clearly defined as if sculpted by an ancient Greek master.
The only truly exposed part of me was my head since my Skins had stretched and grown with me as designed. However, just as my uniform shamelessly displayed each and every one of my normal self's imperfections, they now hid absolutely nothing. I was a pornographic fantasy, an exaggeration straight out of the comics, bearing little resemblance to the reality of a human being.
My face was just as unbelievable. The molten, golden complexion belonged on a work of art, but it was alive, me. My shoulder blade length hair was just as impossible, being a royal sapphire blue that looked like gems spun into fibers. My eyes had an exotic slant and were emerald green which was accented by the blue jeweled eyelashes. My gilded lips were more reddish as if made out of rose-gold, an alloy of gold and copper.
Grasping onto my anger like a downing man, I set all that aside as far away as I could. 'Pushing' with my will against gravity, I rose like Paul's Dracula defying the physical laws of our universe. No one knew exactly how the Visitor's spacecraft engines worked, but we did know they twisted the laws of time and space. Clever monkey-boys that we were, humans excelled at putting them to use in ways their inventors never even conceived.
In a way, I was a living link to another dimension where the laws of reality were very different. A place that allowed a living woman made of precious metals. A universe that let people fly. That was Prometheus.
“Would you care to try that again?” I tilted my head quizzically while being thankful this joker was tall enough so I didn't have to look down and have one of THIS body's biggest challenges rubbed in my face. Let's just say looking down at my feet while like this was not easy and leave it at that!
“Sheila,” I turned to my friend, taking the opportunity while Mr. Drunk was dumfounded, “get them out of here.”
Dressed in only her Tinkerbell costume and my sweater, she didn't hesitate for a second. Mr. Mentat didn't need any encoura
gement to urge his Alien friend that this was not a good place to be.
Apparently, that was enough to motivate Mr. Drunk to try again.
Smack! A meaty fist hit the immovable object, my Skins covered hand.
Very carefully, I'd only interposed my open palm, knowing my own strength. I was fully capable of crushing his hand into pulp.
“Sumbitch!” from his expression, even that hurt a lot as he cradled his injured hand.
“Are we finished?” I asked, inclining my head the other way. The bouncers were charging to the rescue.
I'd seen that Sheila’s exit hadn't triggered the emergency alarm which greatly simplified things. The reason I'd told her to run for it was because I thought the risk of mass death and mayhem being higher with a panicky Visitor than with scared people running out into a near blizzard – a few dead versus the entire vicinity being leveled to the ground.
Needless to say, I was much happier with this solution.
“Hey guys!” I held up my hands, showing the bouncers I wasn't going to be trouble, “Sorry, but I have to go. You might want to check the alarm on the backdoor.”
I leaped, flying over their heads. I went as fast as I dared without hurting anyone or bouncing off the ceiling. The reason why I didn't take the backdoor was because I would've reset the alarm. Just the same, with me flying over everyone's heads, getting outside was fast.
Conditions outside were a right mess with several inches of snow covering the once tropical city, and more was coming down. That made it both harder and easier. Finding the backdoor to the club from the outside was a chore, but following the footprints leading from it was a piece of cake.
It was what I found at the end that was the kicker.
The Aliens' aerial drone of choice was rather like those in that old Tom Cruise movie, 'Oblivion'. Maybe a bit more egg shaped, but they had the same retractable weapon pods on the sides. Armament was usually plasma burners and about dozen missiles, six per side. Unlike their ground pounder cousins, the flying drones lacked the rail guns. Their required automated ammunition replenishment gear had to be in contact with the ground and, duh, they flew! However, given the drone's high maneuverability and speed, that wasn't much of a disadvantage. Short range or not, the damn things could shove those damn plasma burners up your ass and pull the triggers before you could blink.
Right now, four of those things were hovering around Sheila, Mr. Mentat, and their boss, the Visitor.
I kinda pulled a double take when I realized my jeweled eyes let me see the hovering drones while the others couldn't. Hidden by the near whiteout conditions, the stealth units were invisible to everyone except for me.
I felt a lump drop into my guts as all four drones turned and extended their weapons at me!
He had to have some kind of override going since they should've just opened fire. Unfortunately, I'd stumbled into their kill zone. Very slowly I landed with my hands up next to a shivering Sheila.
“We have four stealth drones covering us,” I answered the question I saw in her eyes about why my hands were up.
Despite the cold, Mr. Mentat was sweating like crazy.
“I never expected Tash would take my invitation seriously!” He swallowed hard with fear.
“Please stay calm,” I only wished I could take my own advice! “I might be misunderstood, so could you help me out here?”
At his nervous nod, I spoke.
“Please, this is a night of celebration for us.” I hoped what I thought was non-threatening meant the same thing to them, “We don't want any trouble so just please leave.”
Mr. Mentat mostly just repeated my words, but put emphasis on different parts. As our Visitor slowly nodded, I thought we had just dodged a big bullet.
Then, there were just three drones as the fourth blew up!
I threw myself around Sheila as a plasma burner squirted 25,000 degree C death. Not really thinking, I hoped me and my Skins would be enough to save her. The agony that washed over my back made me seriously doubt that.
My brains finally caught up with the fact, I had to still be alive to feel pain. Plus, I'd been stupid since I was the target and not her. All I'd done was put her into danger. About then the booms from the other M1 Abrams 120mm guns reached us. With their new power plants, the damn things were damn near stealthy themselves especially with the cover of the near blizzard
That didn't last long as the tanks began to explode as the remaining three drones dodged the rest of the 120mm barrage and returned fire with their missiles usual deadly accuracy. Unfortunately, while this detachment did have the upgraded power plants, they still had the old style 120mm main guns and not been refitted with captured rail guns. With them, they might've had a vague possibility of intercepting the missiles; without them, they had no chance at all.
Knowing that if our Visitor fell, it was a certainty that a kinetic strike would be streaking this way from orbit a heartbeat later, I felt my blood freeze. This was a no win scenario.
“Get him out of here,” I told Sheila for the second time tonight.
“I'm beginning to think you don't like me!” but she grinned letting me know she was joking. It was the kiss that rocked me.
“For luck!” Sheila yelled over her shoulder as she dodged for cover as another burner hit me.
Move it! I chided myself through the pain echoing over my entire body. While I didn't appear to be hurt, it had hurt like hell! I had some choice thoughts for the commander of those tanks too, but I was the idiot who'd sent for help. What the hell can you do when doing the right thing is exactly the wrong thing?
'Pushing' hard against the ground, I flew upwards like a rocket at the drone that'd been lighting me up. I noticed my fists were glowing white hot just a scant moment before that drone exploded in a rain of molten fragments!
Holy Shit!
However, my surprise let the other two pivot neatly in place. We'd learned that it really didn't matter if the Aliens' missiles were active seekers or not. They were so fast, that for all practical purposes they were direct fire, even if they could go around the proverbial corner.
The first missile's warhead blew, throwing me spinning out of control, crunching into a corner of a masonry building. My brightly glowing body caused the frozen ice and bricks to explode like a superheated iron bar thrust into a vat of liquid nitrogen.
The second missile took out the other two-thirds of the structure, and buried me in the debris. I could only hope the place had been unoccupied because it was completely demolished.
I had another of 'those' moments pulling myself free. Damn but didn't my breasts hurt! Mind you, the plasma burners should've incinerated me and the missiles ought to have vaporized what was left, but no. I fretted over my aching breasts that hurt very much the same way as if someone had kicked me in the balls.
Somehow, my Skins had stayed more or less intact at least in the front. My back that had taken the burners, well… let’s just say it was drafty back there.
An A-64 zoomed overhead, heading into the fray. We'd learned damn fast that helicopters were dead meat in this new kind of war. However, Project Prometheus wasn't the only use we'd found for the Alien engines. Refitted Apaches, while not the best aircraft in the world, did give the drones a lot more of a fight without those pesky rotor blades. Hell, maybe someday a purpose designed attack bird using the new tech would reach the boys on the pointed end of the stick. Till then, you used what you had to hand.
That only made me wince as the A-64 Super-Apache cut loose with a full salvo of Hell-Fires right before it was engulfed by a ball of plasma.
Streaking upwards, I belatedly pulled my hood over my head. Hoping for whatever protection it could give, I zipped right though the blazing remains of that doomed crew and machine. My gambit worked as I bushwhacked their killer on the other side, who never saw me coming. My hands glowed again, but not nearly as bright. Still, while it didn't explode, my arms sunk all the way up to my elbows in its tough armored hide. Recalling yet another
movie, I grabbed what I could and yanked, hard.
There was a sharp CRACK as it lurched to one side spewing bright electrical arcs and smoke. A telltale whine increased until something else went wrong in it innards. Losing power, it crashed leaving me feeling very satisfied.
Dropping my handfuls of parts, maybe this girl thing wasn't so bad after all.
Grinning, I oriented myself as to where I was and headed for the sounds of the guns.
A burning M1 was being pushed forward by another as it tried to get close enough to get a clear shot at an Alien infantry 'bot. Being a stealth unit, it was damn hard to see anyway and while lost in the ground clutter, a very hard target, unlike the first flying drone which had forgotten an M1's sensors could see perfectly well at night as well as through the snow.
The ground pounder stealth 'bot wasn't anywhere near the size of the tank, being about my height but having the build of a squat gorilla. Lacking the boxy shape so many robots from the imaginations of various media portrayed, it was a rounded stylized humanoid with Popeye forearms where its weapons were housed.
Unfortunately for that tank crew, the 'bot wasn't hindered by their tactic at all. Its twin rail guns cut loose on full auto, throwing a tidal wave of sparks from the burning tank like a nail hitting a grinder as it cut the hulk in two. With the automated ammunition gathering system in the feet making bullets for it to fire, the ‘bot was not only anchored but had an inexhaustible supply of munitions.
But there was a problem with that.
It also made it the perfect stationary target. I crashed into the 'bot knocking it over and happily tearing off one foot. There were no glowing hands this time, but I put one hell of a dent in it. Gyros screaming, it rolled upright, standing on its one intact leg.
“Say good night, Gracie!” I smiled as it tried to bring up its plasma burners.
The 120mm depleted uranium round was more than enough to make me duck and cover from the flying wreckage. Perhaps the tankers were trained to shoot at larger targets, but the ones that lived learned real fast.