“Your fight is with the suits in their ivory towers. With other corporations exploiting supers, capes and masks alike.” Battlelord Gritted his teeth, hoping his words were getting through. “When you let these armed fanatics out on the street, innocent people are going to get hurt, or killed.”
“Fanatics? Is that what you think they are?” He placed a huge hand on Battlelord’s shoulder and pushed him back against the wall. “The fans gave you the strength you needed to get by every night. You owe them everything.”
“Where were they when I had nothing left to give?”
Warhead shook his head. “They’re right here. With us. Ready to give back.” He reached down and snatched the XGH inhaler from Nathan’s hand. “You better ask yourself who you’re mad at.” The plastic device exploded, when Warhead hurled it against the wire-mesh safety glass. The brute looked his subordinate up and down, then stormed out.
Nathan crouched against the wall and covered his head with his hands. His knees ached more than ever. The slipped disc in his spine sent a little reminder that it was still an issue, and always would be without the experimental growth hormone. He stayed crouched, looking up at the two hospital beds.
Ground Zero stood at the end of the hall, talking to Warhead when Nathan wheeled the more seriously injured guard out on a medical gurney, as he held the other draped over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He walked past the tag team, making sure he looked them both in the eye to let his intentions be known.
“Where’s he going?” Ground Zero asked, perplexed.
“Don’t worry about him, brother,” Warhead said.
When Nathan stepped out the corridor leading to the motor pool, he heard Warhead talking loud enough to be still heard.
“He’ll come crawlin’ back when his body gives out.”
There was no ambulance kept at the prison, but the van to transport inmates was still parked, keys in the ignition. Nathan did his best to secure the injured men before heading out.
CHAPTER
26
Speetah jogged the last 30 feet to her destination, stopping a block away from the address Broadband provided. She unzipped her jacket halfway down and pulled the sleeves up to her elbows.
“Are you guys almost here?” She asked over the comm channel.
“We’re about three minutes out,” Striker said.
“I told you we couldn’t keep up.” Manerpillar’s voice was muffled in the background but still audible. She smiled.
Speetah pulled the collar of her jacket out enough to tuck her tail, keeping it out of sight from casual glances. In the city, she was recognizable, but she no longer drew large crowds. In the ‘burbs, she couldn’t risk drawing any extra attention. Speetah stuck to the sidewalk passing rows of houses that looked similar to each other, with only different colors and trims to set them apart. All had well-manicured lawns, and only one or two had cars in the driveways. This late at night, almost everyone was home from their jobs, so they had to be parked in their respective garages.
This neighborhood was familiar to Speetah, only because she grew up in the same type of aluminum-sided, stamped-out, same-same housing. The weird way that the lawns all ended at one edge of the sidewalk, and then continued for several more feet afterward, was always strange to her. Probably for safety, but still weird to see extra grass tacked outside of the property like that.
She reached the corner where Kristen and her family lived. Speetah couldn’t read the individual house numbers in the dark, but the white beat up van parked out front of one of the houses was a spotlight directed at her goal.
“How much longer?” She asked in the mic. “It’s been at least five minutes.”
“Four minutes,” Striker said.
She heard the throaty rumble of his car’s V8 engine as the headlights rotated in her direction.
“What are you doing? Don’t pull up to the house, you dolt.”
The car stopped, engine still rumbling. After an indecisive back and forth, the car moving forward then reverse, He pulled the car over to the curb. The Justice Mobile sat crooked enough to stand out, but not enough to require another attempt to park. The three heroes exited the vehicle and approached Speetah’s position. So much for subtlety.
Speetah crouched behind the bushes of a neighboring house. She could see two men out front, smoking and talking.
Striker moved up to her side. “There are two more in the back. I think we’ve got at least two more inside, judging by the capacity of the van parked at the curb.”
“Alright, we’ll pair up and take out the guards at the front and rear. As soon as we’re clear, you need to get some better intel about what we’re going to be walking into.”
“Guys versus gals? See who clears their sentries out first?” Striker gave her a wry smile.
“Don’t take this too lightly,” Speetah said. “That girl and her family could be in danger. Besides, you two don’t stand a chance.”
Striker winked. “C’mon, Manny. We’ve got a couple of Joeys to drop.”
They disappeared into the shadows as Weed took Striker’s spot.
“Are we going to race them?” she asked.
“Speed is my specialty. You take out the first man, and I’ll follow up before the second can react.”
Weed smiled, gave an exaggerated wink, mocking Striker, and moved on all fours as she covered the distance to the first of the two guards. Speetah dug her back foot into the soft earth and took up a sprinter’s start position.
Weed spooled out the wraps on both arms, moving them along the house behind the bushes planted in front. The living fibers reached the closest of the Brotherhood guards and coiled up, ready to lash out. Speetah took several short breaths, preparing for her take off.
With the speed of a rattlesnake, the hemp threads lashed out, snagging the man around the face and neck and he exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke. The remaining tendrils wrapped around his arms and waist. His body hit the ground hard, driving the air from his lungs. The second guard whipped his head to get a good look at what attacked his friend. His head just completed its turn as Speetah’s elbow smashed into the side of his face, snapping it back the opposite direction. His body spiraled to the ground like twirling pasta.
“We’re in position,” Striker said. “Ready?”
“All clear,” Weed said.
“That cheater.” Striker said to Manerpillar.
“I told you we wouldn’t be able to keep up,” Manny said.
“Yeah…I heard you the first time when we left the gym.” Striker pulled a short barreled shotgun from a thigh holster. “Such a fanboy. I bet you have a Speetah t-shirt in your closet.”
“Wait, you’re not going to shoot them are you?”
“Do I have to explain this to you guys every time. It’s a beanbag round, less-than-lethal.” He snapped the shotgun closed. “The ladies are waiting for us now, so I want to get this over with fast. I don’t have time to dance.”
“Won’t the shot alert the others?”
“It’s a lighter powder load, plus I modified the barrel.” He showed the thicker barrel in the faint moonlight. “It’s got baffles and vents built in to cut the bang.”
“So what’s the plan then?” Manerpillar asked.
“You work your magic and spit some goo in one of their faces, and I’ll work my magic.” He wagged the firearm.
“It’s not goo, it’s —”
Striker waved him forward with sweeping hand motion.
Manerpillar moved closer and looked over his shoulder, whispering. “On three?”
Striker shook his head and raised the shotgun, taking aim.
Manerpillar counted off his fingers, and stepped out of the shadows and whipped a glob of silk from one hand at the far guard’s face. He followed up with a continuous stream pinning the man’s hands to his face, as he reached up to pull off the first glob.
A popping thump from Striker’s shotgun sounded off at the same moment. The beanbag struck the othe
r fanatic an inch to the left of his belly button. The man’s chewing gum launched from his mouth as he bent over. Striker cut the distance in a flash, driving a knee into his target’s face, putting him to bed.
He put his finger to his ear. “Also clear.”
He turned to Manerpillar, who just finished stripping away the silk blob to make sure the first guard could breathe. Striker pointed to the guard he took out. “Make sure you tie this one up too.” He shoved the shotgun back into its holster and reached for his scope with a flexible fiber optic lens. Crouching under each of the windows, he peeked in with the snake-like lens. Striker wound the device back up and tucked it back into its pouch.
“How many more?” Manerpillar asked.
“Three.”
“You catch that?” Manerpillar asked into his mic.
“Copy,” Speetah said. “Get in position and we’ll move on my command.”
Manerpillar stood behind Striker as he took up a position next to sliding glass door. He checked to make sure it was unlocked.
“Ready to Rumble,” he said.
“One…two…”
“Go!” Striker pushed the glass door to the side, drew his nightsticks and darted into the house.
“You’re a sore loser. You know that?” Crystal said smirking.
“I’m just in a little ill-tempered Right now. Ever since—” Bryson pointed to his eye. The bruising from his previous ambush crept out from under his mask. The purple and yellow blotches were very visible in the interior lighting.
Juliana sat on the couch next to Kristen’s mother, holding her hand and comforting her. Manny sat at the kitchen table talking to her father. The three unconscious BoA fanatics were strewn about among the damaged living room furniture.
Manny walked up to Crystal and Bryson. “According to Kristen’s father, Armageddon sent a car hours earlier to take her and David, to meet up for a job.”
“We’ll need to get more information,” Crystal said. “Juliana left one of the men out front awake.”
“I did as well,” Manny said. “We should separate them and start asking questions.”
Juliana joined them. “I think you should see this.” The group was outside of radio range with Broadband, so he could only communicate via mobile phones. He sent a single text message, not wanting to risk an extended ring, attracting attention, while they rescued Kristen’s family.
The message was short. Found Lock and Key. They’re with Armageddon. Call me.
Crystal pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and saw that she had the same message, but missed it. She hit the button to call Troy and held the phone up to her ear.
After several seconds, Troy’s muffled voice answered.
“Where is she?” Crystal asked. She listened for a moment, letting out a short sound of acknowledgment every few seconds. “Her family is safe. We’ll bring them to the police and let them know what happened here. But it sounds like they’ve got their hands full.”
In true movie fashion, Crystal hung up the phone without saying “goodbye”, and slipped it back into her pocket. She pulled her tail over her shoulder and ran a hand down its length as she sighed.
“Good god, woman, don’t keep us in suspense,” Bryson said. “Where are they?”
“Black Lake,” she said.
“Where is Black Lake?” Kristen’s mother asked. The color had drained from her face again.
“Black Lake is a prison complex. An off-site facility built to house super criminals,” Bryson said.
“What? When did they build that?” Manny asked.
“They’ve been building it for months. Let’s just say they had to prep a few beds early when a group of masks needed somewhere to stay.” Bryson took his cowl off and ran a hand through his sweaty hair.
“You don’t mean?” Manny let his question linger.
Crystal took over where he left off. “Sight.” She turned to Kristen’s parents, giving them a softened look, reassuring them that they would rescue her. “We should get back to HQ and meet up with the others. It’s too dangerous to move forward without a plan.”
“So what do we do with these lunkheads?” Manny asked.
“Don’t need’em,” Bryson said. “Just tie them up and call the cops.”
“What about Kristen’s parents?” Juliana kept her voice low, leaning in close to the others.
Crystal said, “You and Manny get them to the police station. They should fill out an official report about Kristen.”
“How are we going to get there?” Manny asked.
“Take their ride.” Bryson nodded toward one of the unconscious fanatics. “You know how to handle ugly vans.”
CHAPTER
27
Sight pulled his hair back, securing it in a ponytail. He smoothed the wrinkles of his beige jumpsuit and sat upright in his seat. “So, gentlemen, what can I do for you?”
All of the released inmates joined the Brotherhood of Armageddon in the cafeteria. Sight took a position at one end of the room, seated on his throne. Fear Mongrel and Kill-O-What stood on one side. A walking slab of granite covered in flesh, Tension, stood to his right. The remaining former inmates were raiding the food stores.
Warhead and Ground Zero addressed the mastermind they just helped to escape from his cell.
“See, we got this problem,” Warhead said. “You sent out an invitation last year to your little shindig, but my partner and I got held up with some previous business.”
“Yeah, by the time we got into town, you and your crew were sittin’ in this lovely little castle,” Ground Zero added.
“I was rather cozy in my previous domicile, I assure you,” Sight said, rubbing his hands together.
“About that...” Warhead tightened his fist and rotated it around to stretch his wrist.
“We don’t plan on stayin’ too long.” Ground Zero said. “You got yourself a little pest problem out on the streets. Seems a few capes got a little too familiar walking around in turf that don’t belong to them.”
“Tax-free, too,” Warhead said.
“Well we can’t have that, now can we?” Sight rubbed his chin contemplating. “Tell me, how can my Visionaries and I be of assistance in your dilemma?”
Warhead’s mouth pulled into a toothy grin. “You can start by usin’ those college dictionary words and lettin’ all those pillow cases out there know that we mean business. From now on, runnin’ around with capes is gonna get you hurt.”
“Let’s just say we’re havin’ a little trouble gettin’ these soft-bellied pigs to come out and play,” Ground Zero said. “This cat and mouse crap is over. We need you help us draw ‘em out. And then we drop the hammer once and for all, and claim this city.”
“That I can do. So, is this where we shall set up a base of operations?”
“Nah, we got somethin’ better in mind,” Ground Zero said. “You’re goin’ home.”
Sight smiled and steepled his fingers. Warhead and Ground Zero huffed and grunted, communicating their pleasure. Sight stood, offering his hand to “seal the deal”. As Armageddon left, the mastermind shook the pain out of his hand.
He looked back over his shoulder and could see how Tension glowered at the two hulking men. It was not often that a man that dwarfed his bodyguard made an appearance. And now they were teaming up with two such men. Sight gave his man a slight nod, easing his concerns. It didn’t take a long conversation for him to get a feel for the mental faculties of the men with whom he had just made an agreement. Once they removed the capes from the picture, it would only be a matter of a few more moves on the chess board before the Visionaries were back on top.
Perhaps I can even absorb some of their numbers to replenish my armies.
Another bulked up man approached. Sight dropped his grinning visage. Had he arrived moments earlier, he would have been an imposing figure, but the Mighty Man-vil could barely even fill Armageddon’s shadow. The villain kept his right hand in its solid iron form. It had healed from the damage
done in his battle against Speetah months ago, but now fear of that great pain was almost like a mental cast he kept wrapped around his arm.
“So what’s that all about? We going back to take care of that milk dud and his lackeys?” he asked.
Sight looked over at the man with the ability to transform into an iron statue. He turned and let a half smile pull at the corner of his mouth.
“We’ll see.”
“Where is everyone?” Crystal paced the length of the conference room.
“It’s 8:30 in the morning,” Sean said. I just woke up myself.
The two heroes waited at the team headquarters’ conference room, waiting for the rest to arrive. The team needed to discuss the plan to deal with not only Armageddon but a newly escaped Sight and his Visionaries. Crystal rocked her head side to side, cracking her neck, as her tail swayed with the motion.
“Relax, Crystal.”
“Don’t tell me to relax,” she said. “That just aggravates me more. You know we wouldn’t be in this mess if Patrick didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?” Sean cut her off. “He’s not the one that brought those two bonehead wrestlers into the city. It wasn’t his plan to juice up a bunch of disenfranchised youth to run amok. Last I checked, Patrick is probably the last guy that would be cool with springing Sight and his wackos out of Black Lake.” He ticked off each of his points on a finger as he spoke.
“He knew,” Crystal said. “He had that information and kept it from us.”
“Yeah for all of a few hours. What were we supposed to do in that amount of time? Bust out into a montage and show up stronger than ever?”
“You know you do a great job of infuriating me sometimes?”
“Only when I’m right.” Sean smiled and held his hands out to his sides.
He could see the stress melting away as the creases in her face disappeared.
“Ah, see. I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.” Sean pointed.
The creases in her face returned.
Two Percent Power (Book 2): Spilled Milk Page 16