by TR Cameron
Everything accelerated again as she completed her rotation. She released another barrage of force blasts at her opponent, but he deflected them with ease. Her telekinesis failed to steal the second wand, and Diana growled at the increasing unreliability of the move which had once been her go-to. Still, the effort allowed her to get close, so it wasn’t completely worthless. The pirate fired a second sonic attack, and she conjured a buckler from the force of her will to block the physical power behind the attack, while her earpieces took care of the rest. Next, she parried the blow of the sword construct the pirate had materialized with his first wand.
She popped his knee with a light telekinetic push that jarred his leg and threw his balance off. The opening was small, but it was enough to land a punch if she was quick enough. She wrapped her fist in a force blast that detonated as it struck, and the buccaneer careened backward into a swarm of henchmen who came running to his aid. They fell like so many bowling pins and a smile played on her lips.
Strike, scumbags.
Tony and Cara arrived soon after and joined her in victory. A quick glance confirmed the unconscious and broken criminals the partners had left in their wake.
The pirate pushed himself up with a groan and rose to his feet. “Nice hit, lassie.”
Diana looked at the woman beside her. “Did he call me a dog?”
Cara snorted. “Technically, he called you a bitch. Which, to be fair, is probably better than when he called you a whore earlier.”
“Strumpet means prostitute?”
Tony nodded, and Diana turned to the pirate with a scowl.
“Did you really call me both a whore and a bitch?”
He shook his head. “That’s not exactly how I meant it but…well, if the boot fits…” He raised his hands in an offensive stance, then spun and ran through an opening between the boxes beside him. The BAM agents sprinted in pursuit, only to skid to a stop as another mass of foes materialized between them and their quarry.
Cara cracked her knuckles. “I wondered where the rest of these newbs were hiding.”
“Newbs?” Tony asked.
Cara’s voice was incredulous. “Newbs. Newbies. Like, new video game players.” The former detective didn't fill the expectant pause. “Geez, Tony, how ancient are you?”
Diana laughed.
I love my team. Even the ancient members.
“Rath, bad guy on his way out. Fancy hat. Interesting clothes. He’s all yours.” She rolled her neck and grinned at the enemies facing them. “We have to take out more trash.”
Chapter Two
Rath and Max crouched in the tall grass near the exit route, as planned. The trap wasn’t intentional, but it helped to have contingencies in mind in the event of an ineffective takedown.
Things never go perfectly. Wouldn’t be any fun if they did.
Over the tiny headset he wore, he quoted, “I shall call him Squishy, and he shall be mine.” Laughter mingled with the cries of pain that emanated from the fight on the other end of the comms.
Kayleigh and Diana had rigged a carrying harness for Max’s field adventures. Rath rode in his customary position at the dog’s collar, which had been given additional rings to grasp for stability. There were even a couple of footholds that had been stitched into the weave in case he needed them. The Borzoi wore a set of linked straps on his back that contained the troll’s batons, a pair of pepper grenades, and the larger version of his headset. They still hadn’t solved the problem of transporting gear for his largest form, nor of making good defensive equipment for his smallest size.
Offense was another matter, though. Rath had a new weapon to try out today. Emerson had rebuilt his needles and inserted a small carbon fiber cylinder into the center. A metal vial threaded into the base of the grip to feed the device. The one he would draw with his right held a sedative toxin, and the other contained pure capsaicin, which would make any being unhappy if they were scratched with it, especially if that scratch happened in a sensitive area.
Three loud bangs resounded as metal slammed against metal like a heavy drum. “A group left out the right side. Three different doors,” Kayleigh reported.
Rath frowned. They had only identified a single exit at the center of the building, near where he and Max laid in wait. It would be irritating if the person with the hat came out of another. This bore further investigation.
Here, Squishy.
“Max, up half.” The dog rose slightly to allow him a view over the top of the long grass. His purple hair would look much like a weed’s flower blossoming. He chuckled to himself as the thought settled in.
Trollflower.
He scanned the area and confirmed Kayleigh’s findings. Many frightened people spewed out two doors on the far sides of the warehouse wall that hadn’t initially shown up on the drone’s camera. It was likely that an illusion or glamour of some sort had been used to conceal them. The sound of curses and selfish exhortations that echoed from the newly revealed entrances confirmed that others had yet to come. A few vehicles rested in the worn patches of dirt and grass. Their tires had done an exceptional job at trampling the vegetation and revealing the minefield of potholes that lay beneath. A few piles of old equipment rusted in disarray and tripped some of the men in their flight. Rath chuckled.
A cluster of enemies emerged together from the main exit in a tight formation. The troll recognized the signs of an escort from all the movies he’d watched as he’d studied the culture and language of Earth. He risked a single hop above his cover for a better look.
He smiled and whispered, “Drink up, me hearties, yo ho.” Then, he leaned down and spoke his instructions quietly. “Max, the one in the middle. Charge, then run away. Don’t stop.” The Borzoi dipped his long nose in acknowledgment and rose to his full height. A shudder went through him as he shook softly to warm up his muscles before they hurtled forward.
Rath loved every second of riding the dog, regardless of the reason. The world turned into a great colored blur as the breeze generated by his companion’s gait blew past his ears. Max wove through the legs of the nearest targets before they had time to react. The men yelled, and the dog’s paws scrabbled as he switched directions to find a new gap to exploit.
The troll used their momentum to leap forward in an arced trajectory. He landed cleanly on the man’s long coat and scrambled up, using the creases in the heavy fabric as stairs, footholds, and handholds. He tuned out the shouts of dismay and the jostling that surrounded him. Max had done well as a distraction, but now, it was up to him to fulfill his part. He reached the pirate's shoulder and considered going for his favorite target, but the enemy’s eardrum was a longer climb and the blood vessels in his neck were inches away. Rath drew the needles from his back and stabbed the one in his right hand into his foe's flesh. With a wide grin, he pushed the injection button and administered the sedative.
Emerson had promised that it would be fast-acting. The man stumbled after only two steps before he began to fall. As the pirate toppled, Rath leapt onto the nearest henchman and clutched his long beard and used it to swing across the front of the man’s body and up toward his face. The left-hand spike licked out and drew a line of red down his foe’s cheek. The man screamed as the brutal pepper extract seeped into the wound, and the diminutive assailant jumped clear with a wicked laugh.
When he landed, he found himself in the middle of a circle of extended wands. Uh-oh. He dashed right, then left, but they tracked his movement. Concentrated force blasts peppered the ground without touching their pirate leader. The narrow space for evasion left the troll with only one option. He launched upward and grew. By the time he reached three feet, he’d landed again. His strong legs propelled him into a two-footed kick that struck the chest of his nearest foe. He tensed and used the surface as a platform to launch at his next target. The guards were taken by surprise, and the tighter quarters made it more difficult to use their attacks without harming one another. This proved to be the case when Rath clawed at his latest op
ponent’s shirt and used it to flip over the man’s head to avoid an incoming attack.
The troll dropped to the ground and rolled to dodge the falling body. The scent of burning flesh and smoke was followed by the sight of a hole seared in the dead man’s chest. He would have chuckled at the inadvertent pun were he not so occupied with staying alive and dealing with the new use of lethal force.
Okay, done playing, then.
He whistled for Max and sprinted to where he’d last seen the dog. The Borzoi erupted from hiding and adjusted his angle to run directly at him. He yelled, “Max, straight draw.” They had practiced many options for getting his supplies to him, and this one was the fastest and most reliable. It left him without his headset, but battles weren’t for talking, anyway.
He pushed into a somersault over the canine. His hands found the hilts of his batons while he was upside down, and they flicked to full extension as he landed. He slid, turned, and rocketed back toward the men. They had been caught off guard by his move and the sudden death of their comrade at their own hands, but that didn’t last long. The troll wove between cones of fire, bounded over spikes of ice, and spun aside to avoid force blasts. The last was the most difficult, given that the attack wasn’t visible until it struck, but training with Diana had given him a sense of how the power worked and its general range. The men also weren’t prepared to deal with his speed and failed to adjust to his evasions.
Idiots. Should train more.
The criminals from the other doors gathered in a group closer to the building, and a smaller number had interposed themselves between the troll and the car the henchmen currently shoved their fallen leader into. The sound of his head striking the metal as they fought to shove him inside made Rath smile, but the giant man who stepped in front to block his view erased it. He held a large knife in his left hand and a wand in his right. The wizard initiated his attack with a force blast and his target spun to avoid it.
This enemy was smarter and followed up with a strong kick. The troll took the blow on a shoulder and continued the spin to burn off momentum. He rolled to complete the maneuver. A boot stomped behind his head, and he forced himself to change direction and roll back toward it. The knife scraped as it dug into the earth, and Rath swallowed. If he hadn’t changed course, that blade would have pierced him instead. He flipped to his feet and swept his batons up in a rising cross. It deflected the man’s incoming punch, but the low force blast that followed threw him back, knocked his legs from beneath him, and dropped him on his face.
He tasted blood from his bitten lip, and a line on his leg burned like he’d been cut. Mostly, though, he was upset at his failure to guard against the magical attack.
Must practice with Diana more.
He rose, lunged at the man, and dodged the ranged attacks with subtle weaves. He feinted a leap, and his foe summoned a force shield to defend himself. Rath grinned and slid low to jam his batons into the man’s feet. The shock discharged with a loud snap, and his opponent tottered back and stumbled to one knee. The troll scuttled forward and rammed the tips of his batons into his adversary’s chest. This time, the wizard fell as the current disrupted his muscles. Rath shocked him a third time for good measure, then knocked him out with a heavy boot.
By now, the other lackeys had returned to the battle. Once more, the troll evaded force bolts and gouts of flame. He rolled to avoid the onslaught and ran after the dust cloud that marked the car with the pirate in it. His size increased with each step until his growth stopped a little above seven feet. Max barked enthusiastically, and he waved as the dog followed as fast as he could run.
The vehicle had to move slowly as it navigated the pockmarked yard. Too many misadventures in the potholes could easily break an axle or cause some other form of car trouble. This proved advantageous to Rath, albeit somewhat difficult with the various attacks still launched from behind. Whenever an attack was imminent, Max would bark a warning and Rath would react accordingly. Acrobatics were ill-advised in this setting and more difficult in his largest form. It left him far too vulnerable to a force blast, so he settled on rolling or somersaulting instead.
The troll angled toward the left and sprinted at his top speed to cut off their escape at the exit gate. He barely managed to reach the dilapidated security booth in time. Once he was within range of the vehicle, he tensed his legs and vaulted forward to plant his feet solidly on the roof. His increased weight buckled the metal, and he struck at the windshield with both fists. The laminated safety glass spidered with obscuring cracks. He sneered as he raised his fists for another blow.
One of the pirate's flunkies leaned out the window with a twin set of pistols in both hands. Rath calculated the angles and flung himself aside as the bullets whined past him, and he tumbled through the dirt on the side of the car opposite the gunner. He growled at the departing vehicle and shook his fist once before he loped toward the building.
The rest of the team was outside, wrapping up the fallen bounties. They had undertaken this operation both for setup funds and to get useful information. The former, at least, was covered. As for the latter, he doubted that the man in the costume had much intelligence to give, even if they had managed to capture him. He turned to stare down the road in the direction in which the car had vanished.
Stupid Squishy. When we meet again, your hat is mine.
Chapter Three
The restaurant was one she’d wanted to try for some time but hadn’t had the opportunity for the trip to the suburbs to do so until now.
Busy, busy, busy. And there are so many great places in town.
The fact that Cara and Tony had been in the area marketing the security agency provided the needed excuse for the gathering, and she was in a good mood as she pulled the doors open.
Plus, finding our missing shipment of anti-magic bullets in the warehouse was a huge bonus.
The inside was appropriately dark and filled with twinkling lights, skeletons, and other paraphernalia celebrating Dia de Los Muertos. Rumor had it that the burritos were excellent and the beer selection formidable, which had been enough to put it high on her list. Rath trailed a step behind her as Diana entered and offered a “Whoa” of astonishment.
If the host was surprised to see a three-foot tall purple-haired troll enter the establishment, he didn’t show it. “Your party is in the back.” She took a moment to wonder how he knew, then realized that Rath was probably a good way to identify her.
Yet another reason to keep him on the periphery of bounty runs when we can.
Rath slid in beside Cara, and Diana followed. They placed drink orders, and the server bustled away. There was already a mountain of tortilla chips surrounded by several kinds of salsa in the center of the half-circular table, and they dug in. Rath amused himself by building teetering structures out of the chips while the rest chatted.
Diana grinned at Tony. “So, how’d we do?”
He finished chewing and took a casual sip to enable his speech. “You timed that when my mouth was full on purpose. Petty, boss. Real petty.” He shook his head. “Anyway, we did well. Most had bounties. A couple were randoms mixed up with them, but they’ll go down, too. We found most of the liquor, although it looks like some was moved before we got there.”
Cara threw a chip at him. “Or the local PD picked up a few bottles here or there, right, Detective?”
He grinned. “The spoils of war. And don’t tell me it didn’t happen now and again in the Marshalls, too.” He turned to Diana with a neutral expression. “Even if we consider that such things might have happened, there was still enough missing to suggest it went elsewhere.”
Rath grumbled, “Maybe to pirate boat.”
The others laughed, and Cara replied, “Right. How about that outfit? Did anyone notice a schooner or galleon sailing up the Monongahela yesterday? It seems like it would’ve been hard to miss.”
Diana had to make a difficult admission. “I rather liked the look. Well, the boots, actually. But at least he’
s trying.” Her teammates stared at her in a way that suggested they doubted her sanity.
The troll regarded her with suspicious eyes. “Dibs on the hat.” That set off another round of laughter, which was quickly interrupted by the arrival of their drinks and the need to order food other than chips.
When the waiter left, Tony resumed his report. “A couple of the extras acquired bounties after the fact, thanks to some clever paperwork wrangling, so we actually picked up more than we expected. In short, we’re golden to expand the labs. Speaking of which, where’s Kayleigh?”
She sighed. “Living in denial about remaining in Pittsburgh. She’s spending the weekend in DC.” Cara coughed and her boss pointed a finger at her. “Don’t say it. She’s staying.”
The other woman shook her head as she tried and failed to smother her grin. “Chip. Choking.” Diana scowled, and the ex-Marshall took a hasty sip.
Tony came to her rescue. “Well, in any case, we’ll need the lab gear, regardless of who uses it, and the cash flow means we can hire both new agents without worry, right?”
Diana nodded. “Yep, it does. So, the big question is who should we recruit first?” The team had discussed that issue from every possible perspective. In the three weeks since the events at the Cube, they’d worked hard to find information on the Remembrance—and failed more often than they’d succeeded—which shifted the balance toward an undercover expert. But it was impossible to deny that having a demolitions professional on hand might have changed the explosive outcome of that evening.
Decisions, decisions.
Naturally, the argument began again. Tony, ever the investigator, immediately answered, “Face. We need the intel.”
Cara countered, “Demo, because bad guys with explosives suck.”