Project Northwoods

by Jonathan Charles Bruce

  “Warning,” Overseer alerted as a black form leapt from the epicenter of the explosion toward the back of the room. “Critical damage to 17% of systems detected. Battery backup will expire in thirty-five minutes.”

  Arthur hefted himself upright as static buzzed in the air around him. “I always told you to stay away from the outlets!” Dark Saint cackled. Arcs of electricity ripped from the computers and wires, flowing to his father. “Electro…” he called out.

  “Fuck!” Arthur shouted, turning and running away from the sound of his father’s voice.

  “… Beam!” A flash lit up the room, and a burst of lightning swept down the aisles as Dark Saint strafed them. Arthur was almost to an intersection as the beam erupted down the path on his left. His hand reached toward safety when he was blown off his feet as the wave of crackling energy slammed into his back, throwing him down the aisle as his heart stuttered violently from the shock. He rolled on the wires as his father continued, more interested in saturating Arthur’s possible hiding places than he was in killing him in one blow.

  “Critical power loss for 33% of computer systems,” Overseer said coolly.

  The light died down as Arthur staggered to his knees. Dark Saint was speeding down the aisle, his son’s reaction time too slow to get out of the way. He connected with Arthur’s chest, sending him rocketing down the aisle and landing in a heap by Overseer’s monitor. Arthur instinctively rolled to his right as Dark Saint charged at him again and dove on his former position.

  Chest aching, Arthur got to his feet as Dark Saint did the same. They faced each other, Arthur’s gut telling him to turn and run. His father came at him with a high right hook, his son dodging by darting underneath the blow and shoulder-ramming the hero away. Dark Saint returned with a high kick to Arthur’s shoulder, the force splintering the bone and shoving Arthur backward. The hero darted toward Arthur in a straight punch, which clipped his head as he dodged under the blow and punched forcefully at his father’s underarm.

  Although the armor was weaker at the joint, Arthur still snapped his hand back with a hiss as Dark Saint staggered from the force. Arthur quickly regretted putting his brawling days behind him as his father whirled around and smashed him with an open palm. The bone in his jaw shattered from the force as Arthur was flung into a computer tower. Shaking, he used the fixture to pull himself upright as he looked back at his attacker. His vision was white, pulsing in time with his heart and the hammering pain in his jaw.

  Dark Saint held his hand aloft as the air swirled and crystallized into a javelin of ice. Faster than any Olympian, he threw the spear at Arthur. He pushed himself off the tower, narrowly avoiding the ice as it ripped into the computer where his head had been. As he face-planted, the squeal of metal and hiss of electrical shortages popped into the distance, the force of the throw carrying the weapon down the line. Arthur tried to heft himself up, but Dark Saint was there, kicking him into the air, grabbing his arm and slamming him downward before pulling him onto his knees. The hero planted a boot on his son’s shoulder and yanked the arm out of its socket.

  “That’s how you do it!” his father cackled as Arthur screamed. The nearby tower continued to spark and smoke from the water introduced to its circuits. Encouraged by the howl of pain, Dark Saint kept pulling, apparently trying to tear his arm off. “Warning. Critical damage to 40% of computer systems.” Arthur bucked hard enough to throw his father to the floor, dragging Arthur with him. The second he fell on top of Dark Saint, Arthur butted his head backward, feeling the hero’s chin crack against the back of his skull. It was disorienting, but the grip on Arthur’s hand faltered enough for him to roll away and scramble into a run.

  Arthur rounded a corner. Gritting his teeth despite the broken jaw, he tried to emulate what he had seen Catalina do the night of the Fortress attack. He slammed his shoulder into a computer tower, only to have his vision go even whiter as he staggered from the pain. Swallowing, he got a running start and rammed the machine as hard as he could, feeling his shoulder give and pop back into position. The sensation was too much, and he promptly blacked out.

  He came to a moment later, still alive and slumped against the computer. He heard movement behind him and he whirled, throwing himself backward to avoid a haymaker that ripped through the tower he had been resting against. He scrambled backward as Dark Saint tore one of the towers from its floor mountings and raised it above his head before smashing it downward.

  Arthur pushed himself down another aisle and got to his feet as Dark Saint closed the distance between them, swinging widely and ponderously enough for Arthur to dodge the strikes. After a right hook, Dark Saint backhanded his son into a tower, lining up a straight punch into his head. Arthur ducked as the blow ripped into the metal and plastic, sparks erupting from the gap as the hero withdrew his fist. Swinging upward, Arthur snapped his fist into his father’s jaw. Dark Saint staggered backward. Arthur turned and ran down an aisle before something snagged his foot, tripping him face-first into a computer tower.

  He staggered upright, bracing himself against the tower as blood poured from his lip. The ground had swallowed his feet, his father preventing his escape by way of Snare’s ability. With a pop, he was free and stumbling upright. Dark Saint gave a shout of triumph, and Arthur whipped around to see him bearing down, a psychic blade in hand. He swung downward as his son fell back, the mental energy shearing effortlessly though his bulletproof vest. The hero leapt forward again and swept the blade horizontally, ripping through Arthur’s armor and slicing into his skin.

  Arthur screamed in pain and grabbed his father’s arm, swinging him around and into a computer bank. He reached up and grabbed Dark Saint’s head, bashing it against the unyielding metal. The moment of impact disintegrated the blade before the hero aimed an elbow into Arthur’s side, shoving him away. He pushed himself off the bank and turned to his son. Arthur ducked low and rammed into him, shoving his father once more into the metal casing. On impact, Dark Saint sprinted forward, holding Arthur as they charged, impossibly fast, slamming through one computer tower, then a second, then a third. His father flung him away, casting him onto the pile of debris created from being rammed through the Guild’s computer banks.

  His body was aching as he rolled off the casings and sparking wires. He coughed up blood, not surprised that he was internally hemorrhaging. Arthur looked at his father, the hero’s arms rising in a ‘V’ as the air whorled around him. A cluster of fireballs materialized in front of a set of long, sharp ice shards. Meanwhile, electricity arced from the floor and computers, sending wisps of smoke into the air.

  The fireballs shot at him one after the other as Arthur struggled to his feet and ran toward the back of the room. He heard the explosions as each one hit the floor, then felt them as the last two projectiles hit him square in the back, knocking him onto his stomach and setting his shirt on fire. Panicked, he rolled onto his back, the flames diminishing quickly even as his burned skin wailed at the touch of the floor.

  “Critical power loss for 75% of computer systems.”

  The ice javelins rocketed toward him as his father came more into view, gathering the electrical energy into his hands. Arthur got to his feet and rolled away, the shards slamming into the floor and shattering. Arthur, back still in agony, rose as his father arced backward, then swept a huge bolt of lightning in his direction. Arthur sprinted as fast as he could down the nearest aisle. This time, the energy ripped through the computers instead of bowing to their insulation, carving a neat line toward him.

  The beam disappeared and Arthur collapsed, coughing up a splatter of blood.

  “Critical system failure. Initiating emergency backup routine.”

  “Overseer,” Dark Saint shouted, sounding winded for the first time. “Will this stop Freedom’s Sword?”

  “No. Freedom’s Sword will fire in five minutes and fifty-two seconds,” he said. “Manual input will be inaccessible in two minutes and forty-nine seconds.”

  “Good,” draw
led Dark Saint.

  “Arthur, are you alright?” Mollie chirped in his ear.

  “I’ve been better,” he hissed through clenched teeth, the sound of her voice spurring him to get to his feet. “How’d you survive?”

  “Arthur, I have had enough of these games!” his father shouted.

  “I had a dummy virus in the e-mail server auto-activate if quarantine was activated. After that, I hid until it was lifted,” she sighed as he rounded a computer aisle, leaning against it and heaving air. “I’m glad you got my message.”

  The clack of boots above him told Arthur that Dark Saint had taken to the top of the towers again. “Come out, you son of a bitch!”

  “I have to keep him occupied for two minutes,” he grunted, looking around the corner and darting toward the back of the room again. A brief pause was filled with a sudden rush of pain as he slowed to a stop to catch his breath.

  “There is a good chance this will not work, Arthur.”

  “I believe in you, Mol,” he said, his eyes falling on a ladder to the gantry. “Mollie, what’s wrong with the sprinklers?” he asked, noticing the thick layer of smoke collecting toward the ceiling. He checked over his shoulder and made his way to the access ladder once he was sure the coast was clear.

  “Dark Saint must have had Overseer deactivate them,” she said.

  “Fix that mistake in thirty seconds.” Arthur ran to the ladder, his shoulder not too keen on the idea of hauling himself up.

  Each rung sent shockwaves through his shoulder and his legs. Nevertheless, he made good time as he mentally ticked off seconds. Finally at the top, he stepped onto the narrow metal walkway, the path barely wide enough for two and a half people. Carefully, he stalked through the cloudy haze, coughing softly as he made his way toward the front of the room.

  A flash of shadow preceded the gantry shaking. Dark Saint rose from his crouch in the walkway, staring at his son. “You’re bleeding internally,” he said coolly. “You’ve fractured multiple bones and yet you fight on.” He smiled. “I am so proud of the tenacity I’ve instilled in you.”

  “How can you even call yourself a hero?” Arthur asked, trying to keep him talking until the sprinkler system activated. “Aligning with Catalina, wholesale murder… you’re irredeemable.”

  His father scoffed. “The ends always justify the means.” Dark Saint gave a sinister smile. “And it isn’t like I wasn’t planning on killing Catalina for the murder of all those heroes.”

  Arthur squinted at his father. “You paid her. Their blood is on your hands.”

  “Semantics.” Dark Saint drew his hand back and summoned a fireball. In a quick overhand pitch, he hurled it at the unprepared Arthur. Instinctively and meaninglessly, his arms went up to defend himself, only to feel a sudden spray of water douse him. The fireball hissed in the water before slamming into him hard enough to send him spinning against the handrail. His shoulder ached, but the fire had dissipated in the deluge enough to render it relatively harmless. His father calmly ran a hand through his hair. “Technology is such a waste,” he muttered.

  Arthur pushed himself off the railing as his father leapt at him and stutter-warped around him, punching his kidneys in the back, then the front, an aerial punch to the head, an uppercut as he fell downward, a punch to the back of the head, another punishing aerial cross, a thundering kick to his gut which launched him backward into a waiting palm which tossed him into the air. Airborne, the assault continued, blows raining on his body from all directions, culminating in his father appearing above him and smashing him into the floor before flipping off him and landing on his feet.

  The gantry shook and groaned before, one by one, the cables snapped. Dark Saint lost his balance and stumbled backward as the walkway shifted and the rear fell to the floor. Arthur dug his hands into the metal walkway and pulled himself up, toward the still-horizontal portion. A hand wrapped around his leg, and he looked behind as his father stood as straight as he could, probably intending to hurl him to the floor. Arthur kicked down on his father’s hand, hard enough for Dark Saint to impulsively release it and somersault backward to the ground.

  The walkway gave as Arthur pushed himself toward the stable area, his chest up and over the ledge as the rest plunged onto the computer banks below. It took a great deal of effort to haul himself up, the iron taste of blood pooling in his mouth. Finally, he was able to roll onto his back, feeling the water spray on his face. His head lolled to the side, looking at the countdown on the monitor. Four minutes, thirteen seconds.

  Bracing himself on the handrail, Arthur managed to pull himself upright and stagger along toward the back of the room. The gantry buckled, and Arthur looked over his shoulder. His father, gasping, stared back at him. Arthur sprinted, feeling a numbness spread over his body as he tried to gain distance. His father collided with him, grabbing the back of his neck. Momentum carried them a little further before Dark Saint spun his son around and gripped Arthur’s neck tighter. Anger flicked across his face as he lifted Arthur into the air, shoving him over the handrail and over the computer towers.

  He looked into his father’s eyes, seeing no sympathy as his own hands fought for purchase on the water-slicked forearms. “I had hoped to rule with you,” he said. Arthur’s eyes rolled back as his limbs slacked to his sides. His hand brushed against the stun-rod and tightened around the grip. His eyes flickered open. “But I suppose I’ll just thank you for the weapon and send you on your way.”

  Arthur flicked the baton and activated it, Dark Saint’s eyes going wide as he saw the droplets of water hissing off the surface of it. He pulled Arthur toward him to gain leverage as his son brought his own arm back. Dark Saint shoved Arthur away as Arthur threw the baton. The weapon burst into brilliance against the metallic armor, sending Dark Saint to the floor as it fell after him. Arthur was falling away as the baton hit the metal gantry, an explosion of electricity flowing around his convulsing father, water conducting the charge into his exposed flesh.

  Arthur didn’t feel the impact so much as he heard the pop of bones as the corner of the computer tower jammed into his ribs. He fell away and landed on the floor, the warm slag of one of the towers oddly comforting him. If he could just fall asleep, he was sure that everything would be better. He rolled onto his back as the sprinklers finally shut off. His head fell to the side.

  “Arthur?” someone sighed in his ear. “Arthur, please, get up…” His vision started to blur as a shadow fell from the ceiling. He swallowed as darkness swirled over his eyes.

  In a brilliant burst of pain, he was brought back to reality. His father was hefting him in the air, wobbling but still alive. “As long as you’re alive, you are going to watch me do this to your friends.” Throwing Arthur toward the monitor, he crossed to the console, reaching into the manual controls. “A fitting reward for defiance.”

  “Manual control activated,” Overseer announced, bringing up the targeting system and globe.

  “No…” Arthur croaked. Thirty more seconds… he failed with half a minute.

  Something clanked on the floor and cracked into his side, but he couldn’t bring himself to see it. As Dark Saint wheeled toward the noise Julia shouted, “Step away from the console,” redirecting his attention. A swollen eye and bloody nose didn’t prevent her from aiming an ornate, single-shot pistol at her father.

  He sneered in her direction. “I should have killed you properly, it seems,” he snarled, stepping away from the targeting computer. Arthur’s hand went limply toward whatever Julia had thrown at him, fingers playing over the leather handle of something heavy.

  “Manual targeting lost. Twenty seconds remain until automatic targeting is activated.”

  “What makes you think I won’t just bat those bullets out of the way again?” He chuckled. “By what miracle do you expect this to work?”

  Julia smirked as best she could as Arthur got to his feet, shakily. “I have a hunch,” she said. Arthur leapt forward, bringing the Bowie knife down and into the ex
posed area between his father’s neck and shoulder. The hero shrieked in agony as Arthur released his grip. Dark Saint whirled around and blasted his son off his feet with a telekinetic shot, throwing him into a mass of twisted metal. He snarled and reached for the hilt when a grappling hook exploded through his gut, paralyzing him. With a whir of retracting cable, he was thrown off his feet and spun as the hook tore its way free. His face slapped against the cold floor before he weakly pushed himself up, hands slipping in his rapidly pooling blood. The cold metal of a gun barrel pushed up and against his forehead, forcing him to look into his daughter’s eyes.

  “I liked you better when you were dead.” Julia squeezed the trigger, and her father fell away with the burst of gunpowder. Holstering her pistol and grapple gun, she rushed toward her brother. She fell to her knees and skidded the rest of the way.

  Blood trickled from Arthur’s mouth in a constant stream. “J… Julia…” he muttered.

  “Automatic targeting engaged. Three minutes until activation.”

  “Arthur, dad’s gone,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Can you stop this thing?” she asked, looking over her shoulder

  “No… it’s… too late… we have to wait…” She looked back at him. He had pushed himself upright in a slouch. She gasped in horror at the glance of a sharp metal chunk embedded in his gut.

  “Arthur… fuck, no, no!” Her eyes flashed up to his. “We need to get…” Dark Saint gurgled wetly behind them, flailing limply. Julia sneered in disbelief. “How is he still alive?”

  Arthur pawed at her, drawing her attention. “Must be… m… mimicking… Zombress…” He looked at her, swallowing roughly. “Run. He’ll kill you.”

  Her good eye welled up. “I’m not leaving without you.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I thought you died once today.”

  “I… I… love you… Julia,” he managed. He smiled, even as he shook in pain.