“You’ve been out for weeks…”
“Take me to the heroes!” she shouted. “Desert Ranger will believe me… my mother will believe me. I don’t…” Zombress’s face softened. “What?” She didn’t answer. “What is going on?”
Cold eyes remained locked on hers. “Desert Ranger is dead.”
“W-what?” Her legs buckled, but she was able to recover by leaning on a nearby computer bank.
“That night… when the world changed…”
Morgan wasn’t listening. She simply, quietly, shook her head. After a moment, she looked up at Zombress. “Am I your prisoner, now? Is that it?”
“Catalina, thank villainy!” the man yelled, apparently to no one. He jogged past Morgan to a shutter with his hand to his ear. The woman followed the same path, looking at the leaning girl as she did so. “We were getting ready to leave without you,” he said.
The shutter raised and Morgan turned toward the noise. A woman in a pinstripe suit that she recognized immediately as Catalina Capone quickly dragged in a feathered heroine that she knew was Paradise, one of her mother’s poker friends. Standing further back was Arbiter, joined by numerous other heroes, all looking very angry.
“… Her name, Arbiter?” Catalina taunted. “If she’s so important, like every upstanding hero, you should know her name.” The laugh in her voice was nauseating, like it was a game where someone’s life just happened to be the prize.
“Let her go, Capone!” Arbiter bellowed. His eyes flicked from the hostage to Morgan and back again, his gaze briefly burning an imaginary hole in her. “Was that your reason for this? A rescue mission?”
“Actually, we invited ourselves over for dinner. You’re terrible hosts, you know that?” She pressed the muzzle of the gun into Paradise’s temple. “You won’t even introduce us to your family!”
“Please…” Paradise whispered in a cough. “I have children…”
“Catalina, let her go,” the man behind her was backing away as Catalina cleared under the shutter. “You have my word…”
“There’s no need for this,” the woman warned in her Russian accent.
The mobster gave the woman a sideways glance. “Oh, come on now, Talia…” Catalina chuckled and returned to her stare down. “… You know I hate for people to die without a name.”
“T’anna!” Morgan shouted. “Her name is T’anna!”
Catalina made a noise like a disappointed whimper. “That takes all the fun out of it,” she said. The mobster shoved her human shield toward Arbiter and raised her gun. Arbiter swatted Paradise aside as Catalina opened fire, the bullets intended for the heroine now ripping into Arbiter’s arms and chest plate. He didn’t move as his ability tore through her, Catalina screeching in agony and collapsing as her male compatriot did something to bring the shutter down between the heroes and villains. “I can’t breathe!” she yelled as Talia grabbed her and dragged her toward the elevator. “Kill me, fuck, kill me please!”
Morgan couldn’t help but shake, stunned and terrified. She felt the cold prickle of Zombress’s hands on her shoulders. “We need to go.”
“To the elevator! Now!” the man yelled. He brought his hand up to his earpiece. “Good, Mollie. I’m on my way.” He ran up the ramp as powerful blows warped and deformed the shutter behind him.
Talia had propped the elevator doors open with an unused monitor. She dragged the still writhing Catalina in as Zombress led Morgan into the car. The man, cradling a closed laptop computer as an open backpack dangled from his shoulder, sprinted toward the elevator as a loud crash announced the shutter ripping free from its supports.
“Arthur, hurry up!” Talia shouted, kicking the monitor from its position. The elevator doors butted against her arm before she slid back into the car, the doors now free to close. Arbiter slammed his way up the ramp and, without even gauging the situation, sprinted toward them, much faster than Arthur could move.
The doors were half shut when Arthur jumped sideways through it, landing in a jumbled heap in the corner. Arbiter’s face appeared in the closing crack before his hand jammed through the opening. Talia yelled in shock as Arthur screamed in horror.
Zombress grabbed the elevator doors and shoved them aside. Before Arbiter could react, she shoved him back far enough to get a clear shot at his head. She somersaulted in a backflip, sending her heel right against his chin as her white dress flowed elegantly around her. The momentum carried her back into the elevator as Arbiter went crashing away. Talia grabbed Catalina’s pistol and shoved Zombress aside as she fired at the ceiling above the rushing crowd of heroes swarming up from the ramp.
Zombress slammed her hand onto the elevator close button, the doors sliding shut unabated this time, as she winced, rubbing her jawline. “You okay?” Talia asked.
“You should see the other guy,” Zombress said with a wry smile.
“Oh, sure…” Catalina said, finally able to rise. “Don’t worry about me.” She snagged the pistol from Talia, dropping the expended magazine to the floor. “Or the scream queen over there,” she said with a nod toward Arthur.
“I didn’t scream,” he muttered as the mobster reloaded her gun. He quietly shoved the computer in his backpack.
“You were going to kill her,” Morgan said, still not sure what was going on. Catalina looked at her, annoyed. “What were you thinking?”
Catalina took a step toward her. “I was responding to the fact that your kind decided to declare it open-villain season, you stupid twat.” With a violent jerk, she chambered a round in her pistol. “Believe me, there were two ways that was going to play out, either me dead or someone else.” She holstered her sidearm and unslung the rifle from her back. “And I like breathing too much to die at the hands of someone like Arbiter.”
Morgan wedged herself in the corner under the mobster’s gaze. There was something unwholesome about her, even beyond the war-zone rationale of what was going on. The second those elevator doors opened, she’d make a break for it… head for wherever there was a hero. She knew she’d feel safer with others like her instead of feeling like… whatever it was they were using her for.
Catalina brought her hand up to her ear. “Sounds like some electrical hero is giving our guys a hard time in C-Wing.” Morgan’s heart leapt at the mention. There were dozens of Bestowed with the ability to manipulate electricity… but maybe…
“I don’t care,” Arthur hissed. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
“And how exactly would you propose that, Art?” Catalina growled. “We were supposed to be crashing this party, not running from it. There’s not enough vehicles out there to get everyone out.”
“We take who we can, then,” Talia said.
Zombress cleared her throat. “If we can get the others to the main gate, I can distract the heroes long enough for them to possibly get away on foot.”
“Everyone who dies here tonight is on your hands, Arthur,” Catalina snapped.
“But you don’t have to kill anyone.” Morgan’s eyes were fixed on the floor, so she didn’t notice when Catalina gave her a vicious glare. “That’s your choice.”
Catalina grunted. “I can always add one more to the list.” She brought her hand up to her ear and began to calmly give orders to her goons, designating drivers and those who would have to direct others on foot.
The elevator slowed to a stop, then opened to reveal the chaos in the front hall. Numerous villains, freshly awakened and mostly unable to use their abilities, were running, keeping their heads low. Flaring lights of all manner of colors zipped by, some igniting against the walls, others crystalizing, others dissipating with no visible effect. An uninterrupted violet beam emanated from somewhere out of sight, carving a long gouge into the building’s interior before fading with a crackle. Punctuating the riot were repeated gunshots. Whoops and shouts attempted to overpower the chatter of machine gun fire but failed. Someone whipped by above the crowd, darting into the mass to pick up a mobster or inmate and hurl them to
the floor.
Morgan was gently pulled out of the elevator by Zombress just in time to witness Catalina taking aim at the flier with her rifle. “Bye, bye, birdie!” She pulled the trigger, the gun flaring half a second before the hero fell from the sky and crashed into a wall headfirst. She turned to Morgan. “He didn’t feel that,” she said with a wink before returning to the elevator and pulling what looked like small explosives from her utility belt and throwing them inside.
Her escorts distracted, Morgan took the opportunity to take off running into the crowd, keeping an eye out for any indication of where C-Wing would be… and sure enough, the large red lettering above one of the doors was all she needed. Shoving her way past others, she neared a semi-circle of goons firing into C-Wing. Before she could devise a way to make it through, there was a powerful burst of static. The mobsters were thrown aside, nearly bowling her over. The light briefly blinded her despite her effort to shield her eyes.
She blinked repeatedly, trying to force her vision to return. As her eyes adjusted and collected more details from the world around her, her mother, Electronica, walked gracefully into the chamber. Stray strands of electrical current ran from their homes in the wall into her, coursing up her suit before being absorbed. A goon ran forward to bludgeon her with a pipe, which she deftly blocked. A surge of electricity ran through the metal and into the mobster, stunning him before she elbowed him hard in the face, a blast of sparks erupting from the impact point. Another villain ran toward her only to have a quick blast lock him in place before he simply dropped to the ground, unmoving – no doubt his heart had shut down.
Her mother looked at her. Instantly, Morgan felt like crying out in relief. She took a step toward her. “Mom!”
Electronica leaned backward, cupping her hands together. Morgan stopped in horror. This… this isn’t… can’t possibly be happening… The hate in her eyes was total, immense. And she recognized the sneer of disappointment every time she saw it.
Why?
“Electro…” she shouted, carrying out the word so it lasted long enough to finish charging the blast using the circuitry in the walls around her.
“Mom, no!” She threw her hands in front of her automatically. It was a desperate action; her hands could not stop the imminent, fatal blast.
“Beam!” Electronica’s hand snapped forward and an arcing wave of lightning extended from her palm. In the second the blast would have connected, something jumped in front of her. No… someone.
A short man with curly dingy blond hair was absorbing the blast, shaking slightly as he did so. Tendrils of lightning shot off him, as though he was less a man and more a wall. “Mr. Brown, do it now!” he shouted, straining under the sparking discharge. A blinking, seemingly improvised device was launched from somewhere to the side and landed by her mother’s feet. The thing gave a piercing wail before exploding, sending her mother head-over-feet in the air and crashing in a heap. The man in front of her turned around, slightly charred but quickly regaining his normal complexion. “You okay?”
“My mom,” she said, trying to resist the natural urge to go to her mother’s side as she lay twitching amongst some rubble.
“The best we can hope for is that she’s still in one of the cells,” someone said behind her. She turned, a gangly old man approaching with a gorgeous young woman behind him that she felt almost immediately obligated to hate.
“Dad, we need to get out of here,” the woman said.
“Child, you need to worry about yourself,” the older gentleman said to Morgan, either ignoring his daughter or choosing to not acknowledge her. “I’m sure your mother is just happy you’re alive at this point.”
Morgan turned away from him and looked back at her mother, now rising from her prone position. “Don’t look now, but someone’s getting up on the wrong side of the rubble,” cooed an English accent. She turned in the direction of the voice, but couldn’t place the grey-haired villain who grabbed hold of the other young woman’s arm and was leading her away. “Ariana, I think it’s time to get out of Dodge, as it were!”
Morgan’s rescuer took hold of her, leading her away from at least one side of the carnage. Someone must have sent out an order to retreat, as the goons were directing everyone to fall back behind them. “Tim!” someone shouted, and her escort veered in that direction. It had been Arthur who had shouted above the chaos. “You found… you!” He was pointing at the Englishman.
The Brit smiled even wider as Arthur moved to intercept him. “Hello, Arthur!”
Talia appeared from behind Arthur and yanked him back. “More important things going on, Art!” He continued glaring as inmates ran by with automatic weapons Morgan identified as being the gear Enforcers had… in fact, she noticed a few had some bloodied bulletproof Enforcer vests strapped to them and were running to maintain the line of defense. Was that one Weston Marsh?
“Italian Mob, fall back!” Catalina shouted above the battle, firing rounds into the air. “We are leaving!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SINGULARITY
THE RAIN CAME DOWN IN HEAVY SHEETS as hundreds of inmates and the decimated remnant of the Italian Mob’s force ran into the courtyard. Arthur didn’t care about the fact that he was getting drenched. With death apparently a moment away, a pair of water-logged jeans was certainly low on his priority list. All he hoped for was that everyone he cared about to get out in one piece and that Mollie remain dry in her waterproof case in his backpack.
He could barely see the vehicles ahead and was fairly sure that he only saw the outlines because he knew they should be there. Between the rain and the buzzing in his ears due to numerous close-quarters gunshots, he didn’t hear his earpiece chattering at first. A sudden sharp spike of panic stabbed his gut as someone grabbed the scruff of his neck and pulled him to the ground. Falling, he heard something much crueler than rain whipping past his face.
The mud barely yielded as he hit it before Mat or one of his clones dragged him away. His world shook as he tried to affix his gaze toward the source of the attack. And then he saw them: bodies on the ground, some twitching, others startlingly still. The hum in his ear was now making sense, no doubt coming from the other side of the armored vehicles: “Snipers in the towers! Get back, they’ve put snipers in the towers!”
Inmates who didn’t have the benefit of an earpiece were cut down, either in a puff of blood or with a quick wail of pain. Arthur was able to get to his feet near Catalina, who had taken to pacing at the threshold like an animal. Allison looked vaguely in the direction of the towers, angry and impatient. Behind them, her men could only hold out for so long before they ran out of ammunition, resolve, or both. It was a rout, with no hope for survival.
“We’re dead, aren’t we, Art?” Tim said from behind him. Arthur turned and felt his heart break at the sight of Ariana, buried in his friend’s chest, her eyes shut. Tim stared at him, determination all but melted away. But in the moment it took to register the despair that no doubt hung over the escapees, Arthur had a plan.
“Catalina, can you see out of the scope of your rifle?” he asked.
She glared at him, Allison cocking an eyebrow curiously. “Why?” the older sibling asked.
“Because he wants me to shoot him,” Catalina answered.
“Visibility is shit, right?” he asked. “So how can they see us through their scopes when we can barely see in front of us?”
Catalina glanced around in the vague direction of the towers, trying to grasp what Arthur was playing at. “Thermal goggles?”
“Exactly.” Arthur turned to Ariana and Tim. “Ari, I need your help.”
“What?” she said, opening her eyes to look at him. Arthur took her arm gently, and she released her grip on Tim.
“Art, you aren’t putting her in harm’s way,” Tim growled, lurching forward.
“No…” Ariana said, turning back to Tim. “I know what he’s planning.” She swallowed, hard, but continued with Arthur. “I can do this.”
> Julia had pretended not to hear the order about using lethal rounds. It made shooting people so much easier. Considering she could direct the bullets to any nearby location she wished, she could optionally have decided to just rip holes in people’s feet instead of outright killing them with the standard bullets. The horribleness of it all… the finality of an actual gunshot wound was, at the very least, upsetting.
On her way up to the A-Wing Tower, she had overheard more than one Enforcer talking about either not using the killing shots or purposely missing. It had always been in confidence, and almost universally among the lower ranks. But it still made her feel more like a part of the team when she had such difficulties bringing herself to kill.
Even if someone she may have known had died earlier.
Nevertheless, she had her orders from Arbiter to assist the snipers in Tier One Tower with penning in the escapees. They would wear down the resistance and capture their leaders, forcing a surrender. It would mean the end of all the fighting in New York City for as long as every villain was incarcerated. Not that she could really fathom what that meant.
She finished climbing the steps and opened the door to the tower, the Enforcers there aiming at the courtyard but not firing. The leader of the squad, a sergeant, turned to her and saluted. “Gunslinger, we had hoped to take out the fleeing inmates, but… well…” She scanned the Enforcers, each one darting back and forth as they scanned the area.
“Why aren’t you using the infrared goggles?” she asked as she strode into the room, looking out the windows into the pouring rain which seemed… blacker than normal.
“That’s just it, ma’am,” the sergeant said. Something hit her nose, a pleasant smell which reminded her instantly of late nights at school… and early holiday mornings. It made her feel sensational, if a little wary about its effect on her. “The thermals are acting up. Everything is lit up like the fucking northern lights through them.”
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