by Lucas Flint
“What … what the hell are those things?” said Treehugger, stepping backwards in horror. “They look like they came straight from a bad horror movie.”
“They are my creations,” said Mig-Noggorth, spreading his spindly limbs wide in order to indicate all of the creatures. “They have no free will of their own. They listen to my orders and my orders alone and are more than happy to die for me, if I ask them to. But today, I think you will be the ones dying, rather than my creations.”
Mig-Noggorth pointed at Treehugger and Space. “Kill the humans! Slaughter them both!”
The creatures grunted in response and began making their way over to Treehugger and Space. Some of them walked, some crawled, some hopped, and a few floated, but regardless of how they moved, they were an impressively frightening group, so terrifying and powerful that Blizzard was sure that Treehugger and Space were going to die horribly in a few seconds. Treehugger brought her hands to her mouth, while Space aimed his rather puny gun at them, but it was obvious that there was nothing that the two of them could do to win.
One of the creatures—a humanoid dog-headed creature with bat wings—reached Treehugger and Space first. It dove toward them, letting loose a strange cry between a dog’s bark and a bat’s chattering. Space aimed his gun at the dive bombing creature, while Treehugger just put both of her hands over her head in a clearly futile gesture to defend herself.
But when the winged beast slashed at Space, its claws passed through Space as if he didn’t exist at all. The winged beast, clearly surprised, landed somewhat ungracefully on the floor, also flapping its wing against Treehugger, which passed through her as harmlessly as its claws had passed through Space. The other creatures stopped their advance on the two intruders, looking in confusion at their fallen friend and at the two strange intruders who they apparently could not touch.
“What?” said Mig-Noggorth in disbelief. “How did that happen? What is going on here?”
Just as Mig-Noggorth said that, Treehugger and Space suddenly vanished. In their place were a couple of disks, much like the one Space had flashed earlier, red lights blinking on and off on their surfaces rather dully.
“Illusion disks?” Mig-Noggorth said. “But if they weren’t there, then where could they possibly—”
Without warning, one of the air vents in the ceiling suddenly crashed onto the floor. A second later, two figures dropped out of the now unblocked vent, landing on the floor with ease. It was Treehugger and Space, but this time, they were on the other side of Blizzard’s table, opposite the side upon which Mig-Noggorth and his creatures stood.
Mig-Noggorth whirled around to face them, as did his monsters. “You! How did you do that?”
“We know you might have tried something like that if you just barged in, so we decided to trick you and find an alternative way in,” Space replied. “Looks like that bet paid off.”
Mig-Noggorth growled. “It doesn’t matter. You are still outnumbered and overpowered. My creations will still tear you two apart piece by piece.”
“That will be kind of hard to do if they’re floating out in the void between dimensions, though,” said Space.
All of a sudden, Space raised his arm and tapped the touch screen. A second later, a huge dimensional portal roared into existence right in the midst of the creations, instantly sucking half of them into its vortex. The other half attempted to flee the sudden portal, but its sucking power was too strong and in seconds the other creatures were sucked into the portal as well. The last one was the wolf-headed jellyfish, which clung futilely to the floor as hard as it could, but it was still ripped off the floor and sucked into the portal itself.
As soon as the last creature disappeared within the portal’s surface, the portal slammed shut. When the portal vanished, its sucking power immediately stopped, but Mig-Noggorth was still staring at the spot where his creations had been standing mere moments ago, shock evident on his alien features.
“What … how …” said Mig-Noggorth.
“They’re all probably dead right about now,” said Space cheerfully. “If not, then they’re at least in horrible pain beyond imagination, which will make it kind of difficult for them to get back here, and that’s assuming they can find another portal to take them back onto your ship.”
Mig-Noggorth shook his head. He raised his scalpel, saying, “It doesn’t matter! I’ll kill the girl and then I’ll kill—”
Unfortunately, Mig-Noggorth did not get to finish his threat, because Treehugger ripped open the packet in her hands and sent what appeared to be hundreds of strange-looking purple leaves flying toward him. The leaves slashed across Mig-Noggorth’s face and body, even cutting through his mechanical parts. Even though Blizzard hated him, she could not help but feel disgusted at the sight of the sharp leaves slashing his eyes, his arms, and his chest, making what looked like blood shoot out of his wounds. He tried to bat the leaves out of the way, but they were like a swarming cloud of angry wasps around him, floating around his form and cutting every exposed inch of flesh on his body, dealing hundreds and hundreds of cuts on his body every second.
Finally, Mig-Noggorth fell over onto his side, apparently unable to take any more pain. He lay in a rapidly-expanding pool of his own blue blood, which smelled a lot like sewage, and of his three eyes, only one was still working; the other two had been sliced open by the leaves. The leaves themselves, meanwhile, flew back over to Treehugger, who caught them all in her packet, which she safely stuffed into the pocket of her suit.
“Whoa, Treehugger,” said Space, staring at the dead Mig-Noggorth in shock. “I knew how deadly those Shadowlands leaves could be, but damn, I didn’t think they’d be that deadly. I didn’t even know you had that kind of ruthlessness in you.”
Treehugger rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Well, when I saw him about to kill one of my friends—”
“Guys, can you flirt some other time?” said Blizzard in annoyance. She gestured with her head at her clamps. “I’m still stuck. Also, I still got this stupid collar stuck around my neck, which is very uncomfortable.”
“Oh, right,” said Space. He and Treehugger ran over to Blizzard’s table and he immediately began cutting through the clamps with a laser knife. “How do you feel, Blizzard? Did he hurt you?”
“He just took some of my DNA,” said Blizzard, doing her best not to look directly at the laser knife, which was too bright for her eyes. “Other than that, I’m okay. But what about you two? How did you guys get here?”
“I came here for Sparky, but found Treehugger in the cells while looking for him,” said Space, nodding at Treehugger as he cut through the metal clamps. “Treehugger convinced me to look for you, so here we are.”
“But how did you find me?” said Blizzard. “The Servants didn’t tell Treehugger where they were taking me.”
“Space hacked into the ship’s systems,” Treehugger explained. “He found the prisoner records, which stated that you had been taken here. We mostly made our way through the ship’s ventilation system in order to avoid being spotted by the Servants.”
“Oh,” said Blizzard. “That’s great! But what about Shell? Is he back yet?”
“Nope,” said Treehugger, shaking his head. “But it doesn’t matter, because Space will be able to get us back to Earth. Right, Space?”
“Right, Treehugger,” said Space without looking at her. He cut the last clamps and then flipped them all open. “But first, Sparky.”
Blizzard sat up, rubbing her wrists and looking at Space in disbelief. “What, the robot? What about him?”
“I need to rescue him,” Space said. He raised his laser knife. “Now hold still so I can cut off your collar.”
Blizzard, however, leaned away from Space uncertainly. “But who cares about a robot? If Treehugger and I are free, then there’s no reason not to take us back to Earth. Sparky is a traitor anyway; why not just let the Servants have him?”
Blizzard was not sure what she said, but it must have been o
ffensive, because Space’s face suddenly twisted into an angry scowl. “He’s not just a robot. He’s my friend. Our friend; that is, Galaxy and mine. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s just been reprogrammed to be our enemy. If we can save him, we can reprogram him back to his old self again.”
“Okay, but it just seems like a waste of time,” said Blizzard. “Treehugger and I really need to get back to Earth and—”
“I’m the one with the dimension-hopping tech here,” said Space, jerking a thumb at his chest. “If I decided, I could just leave both of you here and never come back. How would you feel about that?”
Blizzard looked at Space in shock. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would, if you keep telling me to abandon Sparky,” said Space. “Either we save Sparky or none of us gets to go home, including me. Got it?”
Blizzard bit her lower lip. She might have been a superhuman and she might have had Treehugger on her side, but Space did not seem like the kind of person Blizzard would like to cross, especially with that energy knife in his hands.
So Blizzard nodded and said, “All right. Treehugger and I will help you save Sparky, but first, take off this collar. It’s too tight and leaves me useless in a fight, so please remove it as quickly as you can.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Talon blinked. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Lying in front of her, Bolt, Stinger, and White was Eli Corey, but he looked dead. His head had a bad gash, while his white shirt was stained with his own blood. His eyes were closed and he barely seemed to be breathing. His blood even stained the stone floor upon which he lay, adding to the gruesomeness of the scene before them.
“What …” said Bolt, who sounded like he was at a complete loss for words. “Eli? Are you … dead?”
“No,” came a deep, but old, voice from somewhere in front of them. “But he soon will be, once I am finished with him.”
Talon—who had fallen into a kind of trance when she saw Eli’s body—suddenly shook her head and looked around at their surroundings. They had teleported into a strange-looking stone chamber, seemingly underground, based on the lack of windows on the walls. The chamber was massive, however, like a ballroom, its ceiling supported by ancient-looking stone columns carved with strange images and creatures on their surfaces, illuminated by a set of modern florescent lights on the ceiling. A set of huge stone doors stood behind them at the other end of the room, but it was the platform in front of them that got the bulk of Talon’s attention.
It was a huge stone platform, rising above the four of them like a giant stone altar. Upon it stood a familiar-looking stone gateway, which towered over them all and nearly brushed against the ceiling of the chamber. A set of steep steps went up to the gateway, but it was the beings who stood in front of the gateway that caught Talon’s attention.
Standing on top of the stone platform were six beings Talon had not wished to see again: The Venetians. She recognized them all: Volto, Bauta, Pantalone, Moretta, and Della. They stood looking as silent and deadly as always, their masks rendering their faces mostly unreadable, save for the man in the middle.
He was an old, ancient-ing man, wearing a business suit that looked more expensive than even Mother’s clothes. His silver-gray hair was combed back neatly, but it didn’t make him look more handsome; if anything, it made him look creepier than ever, because it threw his dry, skeletal features into sharp relief. He rested his hands on a thick metal cane, but he also wore a strange golden gauntlet on his right hand, which Talon had never seen before, though it filled her with dread just looking at it.
“Who are you?” asked Bolt, taking a fighting stance, as did the other members of the team. “And what did you do to Eli?”
The old man smiled. “You mean you haven’t figured it out? Very well, then. Allow me to introduce myself: I am John Mann, the founder and CEO of the Mann Corporation, though you probably know me better as the founder and beneficiary of the notorious Venetians.”
Talon gasped, while Bolt, Stinger, and White exchanged stunned looks.
“What? Surprised to see me?” said Mann with a mocking smile. “I suppose it makes sense. After all, this is the very first time I have ever met any of you face to face. You are so used to dealing with my servants here that you probably didn’t think you’d ever get to meet me personally.”
“’Surprised’ is an understatement,” said Talon dryly. “More like absolutely stunned.”
“How do we know you aren’t just one of Bauta’s illusions?” said Stinger suddenly. “I see Bauta standing right there. I know what he can do.”
“Believe me, if I was an illusion, I would not even be here right now,” said Mann. “But allow me to prove that I am indeed the real John Mann.”
Mann pulled something out of his pocket and threw it down the steps. The object bounced down the steep steps until it came to a stop at Bolt’s feet; it was a penny, which Bolt picked up and turned over between his fingers as easily as any real penny.
“See?” said Mann. He put a hand on his chest. “I am indeed real, as are the Venetians. I’ve decided to come face to face with the so-called ‘heroes’ who have been getting in the way of my plans recently, though I am disappointed to see that not all of you are present tonight.”
“What did you do to Eli?” said Talon, glancing at the seemingly dead Eli lying at the foot of the steps. “Did you kill him?”
“My foolish grandson is still quite alive,” said Mann with a chuckle. “I would have killed him, but I decided that I could use him instead. He’s been nearly as annoying a thorn in my side as you Young Neos have been; removing him would be a pleasure, but I think he will be more useful to me alive than dead for now.”
“Let me guess,” said Bolt, lowering the penny and looking up at Mann. “You were the one who sent me that message summoning us into your mansion, right?”
“Correct,” said Mann. “When Eli entered the mansion, my Venetians ambushed him and beat him to a pulp. When we took his phone, we discovered that he had been in contact with you, so we sent you a false message to lure you down here on our terms.”
“Well, you obviously didn’t think through your supposedly great plan all that much,” said Bolt, spreading his arms to indicate Talon and the others. “Because now that we’re here, we’re going to take you and your minions down once and for all.”
Bolt launched through the air toward Mann and the Venetians. Talon and Stinger ran to join him, but firm hands landed on their shoulders, causing Talon and Stinger to stop and look over their shoulders. White Lightning had grabbed their shoulders, a serious look on his face.
“White, what are you doing?” said Talon in annoyance. “We’re trying to help Bolt.”
“Trap,” said White simply. “Don’t want to get hurt.”
White sounded very serious when he said that, causing Talon to look back up at the top of the platform. Bolt was nearly upon Mann and the Venetians now, yet neither Mann nor the Venetians had moved an inch. It seemed strange to Talon, because she was pretty sure that Bolt was strong enough to cripple or even outright kill all six of them, yet she did not see even the remotest hint of fear on their faces or in their eyes behind their masks. Bolt pulled back a fist and threw it directly at Mann’s face.
But Mann raised his own hand—the one with the golden glove Talon had noticed earlier—and, balling it into a fist, met Bolt’s fist midway. Right before the two fists collided, Mann’s gauntlet briefly flashed green.
As soon as Mann and Bolt’s fists collided, a loud shock wave exploded between them. The shock wave cracked the floor and sent the robes and capes of the Venetians fluttering in the wind, while Talon and Stinger were nearly sent flying, saved only by White, who somehow managed to stand his ground despite the impact of the shock wave and grabbed the two of them as they were knocked backwards by the blast. Bolt himself flew backwards as quickly as if he had been hit with a truck and landed on the floor hard enough to make a small crater. He did not rise again.
&
nbsp; Panting and brushing her messed up hair out of her face, Talon looked down at Bolt and said, “Bolt? Bolt, are you awake? Bolt?”
But Bolt did not answer; however, his chest was rising and falling with each breath, which meant that he was at least alive, if nothing else.
Talon looked back up at Mann. Despite having blocked a full on punch from Bolt, Mann didn’t look even remotely phased. Neither did any of the Venetians, though Moretta was looking from Mann’s fist to Bolt as if she was not quite sure whether to believe her own eyes.
“That punch was a bit stronger than I expected,” said Mann, shaking his fist as if to clean it off. “Still, the power of the Starborn is every bit as overwhelming as the old stories say.”
“What … how did you do that?” said Stinger. He stared up at Mann with a stunned look on his face. “You’re not a superhuman of some sort, are you?”
Mann shook his head. “Alas, I am just a normal human being, albeit one with more money and resources than your average human. My true strength comes from this gauntlet I am wearing.”
Mann lifted his gloved hand. Although the gauntlet appeared beyond ancient, its golden hue still shone beautifully in the lights from the ceiling. “This is an ancient Starborn artifact known as the Five Fingers. I received it courtesy of your mother, Electrica, who stole it for me from a museum in Britain. This is the first time I have used it in combat, but I am pleased to see that it works as well as the legends say it does.”
“I remember Electrica telling us about that,” said Stinger. “But I didn’t think you’d actually use it. What does it do?”
“The Five Fingers gives its wearer immense power and strength, even if they are an elderly man such as myself,” said Mann, flexing the fingers of the gauntlet as he spoke. “Of course, it’s main benefit is in absorbing the kinetic energy of an attack and then launching it back at the target, except doubled in strength. I doubt it killed young Bolt, but he will probably feel it in the morning.”