Blackjack Dead or Alive (The Blackjack Series Book 3)

by Ben Bequer

  Energy wasn’t the only problem; the wires would be exposed in the mass vibrations and come in contact with each other. It was all taking time, and Silverback was growing more and more frustrated with me, and slowly succumbing to his massive wounds. His face was caked with drying blood, and it was clear from all his shifting that he had injured his back and hips in the fight with Epic, or in the subsequent crashing of the mountain. He said he was fine when sasked, but I knew we were working on borrowed time.

  Finally, I said the hell with it, looping the makeshift diggers onto my hand, wrapping them over my knuckles the way fighters do before a bout. The blades faced outward, capping the thrust nozzles, which would provide the vibrations. Using what was left of the suit, I lashed the cables to my arms and the toggles to my palms so that I could depress them by making a fist. By the time I finished, my hands were thick with padding, ready to work.

  “How you doing big guy?” I asked and they both answered a curt, “Fine!”

  “Think that will work?” Epic said, once I was done, shifting past him to the spot Silverback had indicated.

  “In theory,” I said, engaging the device. It started slowly, giving me a second to tie down the wires on the other one, before the vibrations really started to get violent.

  I tried to say something clever, “Either it will work, or you’ll see me burst like a ripe tomato,” but after the first vowel, it became clear that something was wrong.

  Without a power regulator, the full-bore energy of the plasma cells surged through my arms, down the cables, lancing across my skin like lasers tearing at my flesh. I screamed in pain, trying to dig at the cables, but both arms were shaking so fast, so hard that I couldn’t control myself. I let go of the toggles, but they the vibration didn’t stop.

  The pain lanced through my arms, as if I had put them into a grinder. I fell to my knees, crying and shaking, fighting the urge to vomit, and unable to stop the pain. Doubling over, my head slammed into the wall, and my arms lifted on their own accord, oscillating so fast they were a blur. I tried to flex my fists, knock loose whatever was stuck, but my body was in no place to obey commands.

  Behind me, I could hear yelling, though I couldn’t understand anything from the violent vibrations cursing through my body. I had overcharged the device, and now it was going to tear me apart. The thrust toggles shook apart in my hands, but the power continued to flow unabated. I opened my eyes and saw how aggressive my full body convulsions were, unable to focus on a single point in the wall.

  “Focus,” a word entered my consciousness, shouted by Epic behind me, and I tried to, I really did, but instead of helping me, the sudden change of attention allowed the shaking to spread through my body. My legs twitched and I toppled forward, face first into the wall, my hands unable to check my momentum. I flailed to either side, so violently that I felt my fingers were about to tear off my hand.

  I tried making a fist, concentrating on my right hand first, focusing on the hand that had broken against the walls of Retcon’s fortress. I felt a tickle deep within, the dancing of the bones against the scar tissue deep within the hand, and acting as if I was trying to scratch it, I saw my fingers coil, my hand form in to a fist.

  With the experience of how to do it burning in my mind, I could do it with my left as well, but without the focus of the scar tissue, it was impossible.

  “Fuck!” I roared and threw a punch at the wall with my left hand. I felt my fingers bend back in pain, and as I howled in agony, I had the feeling I needed to replicate my right fist with my left hand. The pain was enough that even a dislocated pinky finger came along for the ride.

  Then I looked down at the wall, where I had punched it, and saw an almost perfect sphere carved out of the rock, glassy and hot to the touch. The terrible vibrations had liquefied the rock at the cost of a small wisp of dust and smoke.

  I strained against the vibrations, bringing both fists in front of me, and feeling the rattling of my teeth, fighting a tickling surge through my spinal cord, I forced my arms forward into the wall.

  And it gave.

  The pain shot through my elbows and shoulders, racking my back muscles like a thousand cramps all at once, but I gritted my teeth and angled myself forward, muscling my way to safety. Blind, I based my movement on raw forward momentum, caring little if I was going in a straight line. It hurt too much to care.

  For a second my mind drifted from the ongoing pain to Epic and Silverback’s plight as I tore the tunnel out of that mini cave. They would have to find a way to move to the opening I had made while remaining in control of the mass of rocks above them.

  Their problem.

  I trudged onward, ignoring the smell of burning flesh and hair, of raw melted ores, caustic and suffocating fumes that assaulted me. The blades melted away almost instantly, my temporary gloves started peeling away roughly fifteen feet later, bare knuckles rasping against hard rock at high oscillation, ripping a hole out of nothingness. I was crouched low; to make sure the hole was traversable, tall enough for me to cross.

  I figured Epic would have a harder time making it through, and Silverback might just be fucked. Frankly, I didn’t care, as the pain spreading through my arms and body were overwhelming me, and taxing me faster than I was able to bear. I thought of pausing, but there was no way to stop the devices short of disconnecting the plasma cells, and with how hard it was to control my arms, it would be near impossible. I’d have to reach down and rip a cable with my teeth, but that would leave me alone in the dark needing to repair the device to continue.

  No, I had to endure, coughing as nothing entering my lungs was fresh air, the vibrations worse than even Alacrity’s excruciating attack. The world shook with me as I pressed forward, my hands starting to burn under the friction. The force of the vibrating fists was ripping the wall apart with ease, pulverizing the rock and turning the walls of the tunnel I was making into smooth polished stone. The one benefit the guys would have following me was they wouldn’t have to worry about the tunnel falling down on them. The melted walls should hold long enough for them to follow.

  Thousands of tiny shards of rocks spraying onto my face and neck, ripping into my eyelids, lips and cheeks. I lowered my head and powered on, trying to turn my onward momentum somewhat upwards in order to rise faster to the edge of the rock pile. I couldn’t just drive on without care. I was going to succumb to the device at some point, the vibrations wearing me down to nothing. I had to focus, to aim myself, and keep pressing my fists forward, pounding hard against the walls, feeling the rock melting under my blows, or sloughing off down to the new floor I was tearing from the mountain.

  Then I felt a pop and a violent jolt shoot up my arm from my elbow. My shoulder was dislocated. I screamed and tried to cradle my injured arm, but the device kept me propped forward, unable to bend my arms, and the violence of it all didn’t allow me to vocalize other than a thrumming din, that backfired into the pits of my ears.

  I yelled and cried, but still managed to thrust myself onward with greater purpose. My arm was going to fall apart, dismembered by the horrible device I had built, and I knew I couldn’t make it out with one hand. Despite my effort, I felt my forward momentum fall off. The pain was too taxing.

  Then something came up from behind me, massive and bulky. At first, I felt a pair of hands touch me gingerly, then shoot back with a horrible scream. I wanted to turn but my body was committed, unable to do anything other than jut, fists forward.

  I felt another vestigial touch, then a full body pressing against me, the screams of the person behind me echoing through the tunnel. It had to be Epic, having reached me, using his strength to push me along. I was the drill bit, and he was the strong arm pressing against the hard rock, but something by the shrieking timbre of his screams, the vibrations were killing him too.

  I dared to open my eyes, and understood how wrong I was.

  My arms and chest glowed as brightly as a star and my body was swathed in flames. I couldn’t turn my head, but n
ow I knew what was hurting Epic. He was pressing his arms and chest against me, and I was on fire.

  I closed my eyes fast, fighting against the horror, the realization that I was burning alive, and concentrated on moving ahead. With Epic providing his considerable strength, my momentum grew, so fast we began to test the power of the device, and more rock exploded off the walls in crusty, melted shale, leaving thicker piles of rocks in our wake.

  Epic was desperate, pushing harder and harder. I didn’t know how much longer he could weather the experience of grabbing onto an immolating man. I felt a jolt ahead, and tried to stop for a moment, fighting Epic’s shoving, but he drove me forward, and a second later we crashed through a hard wall of rock. I tumbled down a concave incline, as if someone had used an ice cream scoop on the mountain, and saw that the whole area was on fire. A heavy wind whipped against me, the flames billowing in their death throes as they snuffed out, but the machine was still going. I bit through the cables on my injured arm, my teeth rattling in their sockets as sparks scored my tongue. The device shut off, though my arm still vibrated as I reached across and disengaged the other.

  Every inch of my body caught in a feedback loop of random twitches that precluded organized motion. I tried to relax, but my breathing came in hitches and sputters, my lungs and throat scalded by the fumes. Epic hovered over me for a second, his mouth moving, but nothing audible reaching my ears, then ran off, presumably to find Silverback.

  The winds were whipping up, and I couldn’t hear, my inner ear reporting just a steady tin, as if I had stood next to the speakers at a Rolling Stones concert the whole night. I felt my body going into shock, which was bad, but then again, it was working hard to save me.

  I tried to open my eyes, but a bright light assaulted me, so strong that I feared I was off on another supernatural trip. I rolled over and pulled my legs up tight against my stomach, feeling the steam rising from my superheated body. My clothes were long gone, and after a few moments of sitting on the cold rock, I started to shiver. The heavy winds weren’t helping, so I opened my eyes, looking for an outcropping I could use for shelter.

  The floor was slick, like glass, formed in a wide circular shape that made me feel like I was sitting in the middle of a huge amphitheater. The only thing that marred the perfect sphere dug out of the ground was the hole where we had broken through, and the bits of rubble that were our afterbirth. The light was strong and unnatural, outlining Epic as he came out of the tunnel, dragging an unconscious Silverback and setting him next to me. The light grew brighter and Epic shielded his eyes, his expression reassuring and grim all at once.

  The lights dimmed, the source floating just above us.

  I focused on the craft, capable of only one action at a time, and noticed the silver detail, the curved front, the insect-like appendages that it trailed – the landing gear and other sensors that it kept out of the way for fast travel. It was unmistakable, a craft I had traveled in on several occasions.

  Superdynamic’s Cicada.

  Time was relative and I seemed to be moving in slow motion, but a few seconds later Apogee tore out of nothingness, kneeling beside me. She spoke, teary-eyed and shocked that I was alive, but I still couldn’t hear. From the pain in her eyes, I could tell my injuries were severe. It didn’t take a genius to imagine what the heat and flames had done to me and looking at Epic’s uniform gave me an idea of what I’d had to endure. The bastard was otherwise unhurt and even though his hair was sort of a mess, the ruffled wet looked good on him.

  Silverback was out for the count, and Epic went to work on him, rolling the gorilla on his back and doing CPR – even going so far to do mouth to mouth.

  Superdynamic landed the ship, and his team, Battle, were already debarking. Ruby was ahead of the bunch, teleported beside me by the big sword wielding Templar. She said something snarky, but I motioned towards Silverback. Her head shot to the gorilla and she ran in his direction, aiding the villain. Templar looked me over and said something, smiling.

  A second later the rest of Battle surrounded me. Moe bodied past them and fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. I reached over, noticing the skin on my hands were baked an angry blistered red. Apogee tried to keep me from getting up as Superdynamic hovered over to me, with an impressive laser light show as he scanned me.

  “Everyone back,” I heard him say, though it came from far away. “His surface temperature is over 200 degrees Fahrenheit.”

  He landed beside me, ignoring his own advice and his probing lights switched to an orangish color, sweeping my body with wider beams that soothed and cooled my skin.

  “This should help a little,” he said, turning back to his team. “Need you over here Mirage,” he shouted.

  Mirage was an old friend of Apogee’s, a powerful super with strange illusory powers that could cloud an opponent’s mind. In addition, he could also emit healing waves from his hands that could mend almost any injury. He was an older Chinese guy, tall for his people, with uncommonly dark skin, and I could tell from how he stared at me that he wasn’t a willing participant. The last time we were in this situation, in Washington, D.C., Mirage had refused to help me. Not that I could blame him. He hated me. The guy had a protective, father/daughter thing going with Apogee and in his eyes I was no damned good.

  To my surprise, Mirage left Silverback and hurried my way, cradling his flowing white robes. As he did, I saw Epic stand away from the big monkey, his head bowed low.

  “Dammit!” he mouthed.

  Mirage reached me, and went to work immediately, the flowing waves of healing rolling over my badly burned skin, as he motioned his arms over my body.

  “He needs a heal chamber, Superdynamic,” he said. “He’s burned from head to toe, every inch of his body. I can heal the damage, but an infection can kill him.”

  “He’s gonna be alright,” Moe said, and I turned to him, trying to smile, but unaware of what my face did. I tried talking but my musculature was too strained, even internally, for me to do anything but sit there in one position while the others ministered to me.

  Epic’s team filtered over, Lady Armada, Coach, Gryphonette, and about a dozen others, somehow freed from the stasis chambers. I wanted to ask about Bamma and Slamma, but I figured they were alive. Epic’s team looked to have all survived the crash of the mountain.

  Mirage’s magic worked in slow, building waves that had a powerful effect, resting my muscles, healing the burns, and cooling my skin so by the time Templar got a hover stretcher down from the Cicada, I could move my fingers and toes, start to feel my tongue and lips.

  Apogee and Moe helped me onto the hover stretcher, which Superdynamic repurposed on the fly into a chair.

  “Apogee,” I said, managing only a whisper. She came closer and I reached out and grasped her arm. “Bubu.”

  I followed her gaze and he came into view. His arm was slung in a cast and his head was wrapped in a large bandage, a spot of crimson blooming in the middle of the wide gauze. His eyes were wet as he came up to me, but he let out an elated cry when he saw me.

  I fought the tears of my own, but he shook his head, “Arm broke when your girl yanked me out, bro. I’m good.”

  I looked at her, beaming with a wide smile.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Bro,” Bubu said, stepping closer and handing me a smartphone. It was something we had built as a reserve for the entire network, the backup to the backup, as it were. The phone was bigger than anything you could buy at the store, almost eight inches long and thick, with an external antenna module that could connect to our emergency base’s wireless back at the village.

  We looked at each other for a while, understanding what he was handing me. Haha was in there, now that he had destroyed the Castle and the servers with the avalanche.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Superdynamic said, motioning for the others to step aside so he could move the stretcher to the Cicada.

  Epic neared, his face lined with frustration.r />
  “Silverback?” I said and he shook his head bitterly.

  “Guys, we can have a reunion party when we get back to the tower,” Superdynamic said.

  “One second,” I said, my voice a harsh whisper, turning my attention to the smartphone. “There’s one thing I have to do.”

  “What is that?” Superdynamic said.

  “That’s Mr. Haha,” Bubu answered, pointing to the phone.

  I turned the speaker on, catching him mid-babble “-you have to understand Blackjack, I’ve never had to face this kind of thing. I don’t…please, Blackjack. If anything we ever went through meant anything to you, you won’t-“

  “Shut up, Haha,” I said, lifting the phone to my face.

  “Oh, my, what happened to you?” he said, catching a look at me through the device’s camera.

  “All your people are dead, Haha,” I said.

  “Well, that’s because I didn’t understand. I didn’t know-“

  “Just shut up,” I said, laying the phone in my lap.

  I looked at Superdynamic, who asked Bubu, “What do you mean ‘that’s Haha?’ He’s all in there?”

  My partner nodded.

  “What about the databases, the botnet, what about the-“

  “Erased with a wiper program he enabled himself,” I said, wanting to jump out of the chair and hug Bubu. It worked; we had trapped the mad machine.

  Superdynamic stared at the device with amazement and wonder.

  “You really did it,” he said.

  “Yes, he did,” Haha said. “But there’s no reason we can’t be reasonable, right? I mean, I can grow, Black-“

  “I said quiet, Haha,” I said, looking at Superdynamic, who was still wrapping his head around the feat.

  “And the Blackjack we were looking after was a remote-controlled clone,” Epic said. “Apogee was right.”

  I looked to her and she came closer, not daring to touch me in fear it would hurt my tender skin.