by Colleen Vanderlinden
Published by Peitho Press
Detroit, Michigan, 2016
© 2016 Colleen Vanderlinden
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the author at [email protected].
Contents
Books by Colleen Vanderlinden
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Cast of Characters
Letter from the Author
About the Author
Dedication
To those who have felt lost and helpless and sure you’ve lost your way. You are stronger than you realize.
Part One
Questions and Answers
Chapter One
I veered around, keeping my eyes on the stadium below. Over a hundred thousand people were packed into a college football stadium to watch an annual outdoor hockey game. Fans freezing their asses off to watch a game from the nosebleed section was a tradition I’d never understand.
I knew, for example, that as much as I liked hockey, I’d much rather watch it curled up on my couch without dozens of other people crowding my personal space.
I also knew that huge gatherings like this were like crack to certain super villains. Jenson and David had been picking up chatter over the past few weeks about the possibility of some of the random villains who had started working together under Killjoy planning something. Unfortunately, just like everything related to Killjoy in the weeks since we’d last faced him, it was like chasing ghosts. All we had was random chatter and gut feelings to go on. So here we were.
I flew overhead, keeping my eyes on the crowd. Ryan, Jenson, David, and Portia were in the stands, walking around and listening. A lot had been made of our presence there when the game started, and we’d warned both teams about the possibility of attack. They’d gone ahead anyway, trusting (sort of) that we’d keep everything under control.
“Anything, Daystar?” Portia asked over my comm.
“All quiet up here,” I answered. The game was almost through the second period. One more to go, and then we’d stick around until the crowd broke up, and then I could go back to Command and get on with the rest of my day. The horn sounded, signaling the end of the second period, and the teams skated off the ice. Once they were gone, the crowd started moving around more and I tried to pay closer attention so I wouldn’t miss any weirdness.
Our uniforms did a decent job of keeping us warm, but January in Michigan isn’t exactly the most hospitable, and the cold was starting to seep its way into my bones.
“I am freezing my ass off up here,” I muttered into my comm after pressing the button twice to get a direct feed to Ryan.
“And you hate being cold,” he said, humor in his voice. “I was wondering if this was getting to you yet.”
“It couldn’t have been a threat in a nice warm mall or something,” I said, and he laughed.
“Just think of warm things.”
“Coffee. I would kill for a cup of coffee right now.”
He started saying something, and then I heard him curse. “Section 41B. Something’s happening.”
I swerved, pulled back, and spotted the area he was talking about. Several people were bending over, holding their midsections as if they’d been punched in the gut. It seemed to continue in a wave up the stands, and I spotted a guy walking up the stairs between sections. Where he walked, the stomach clutching began.
I was about to head over there, when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, on the ice. The Zamboni had been doing its thing, the driver driving slowly in circles as the machine smoothed the ice, but now it had pulled to the center of the ice, and the driver, who I now noticed was a woman dressed in black and red, was getting off and grinning widely at the crowd as she ran off the ice.
“We’ve got people freaking out at the western side of the arena,” Jenson said. “Seeing things that aren’t there.” I glanced in that direction to see the crowd freaking out. Jenson had used her power to split herself into multiple Jensons, and they patrolled the crowd, pulling people out of danger.
“People fighting out in the concourse all of a sudden,” David said.
“I think that was Raider on the Zamboni,” I said, realizing where I’d seen that black and red uniform before. “It’s starting to emit smoke,” I said. “Shit.” I flew down. There was a grayish white fog coming from the abandoned Zamboni. I hit the button on my mask that would filter my air as I dove toward it.
The security guards who had run onto the ice to check it out were falling as they got close to the Zamboni.
“Christ. She pulled this a week ago somewhere in Norway. Twenty six people died. There’s no way we’ll be able to evacuate all of these people in time. We need to get the Zamboni out of here, now,” Portia said.
“Got it,” I said. I landed near the Zamboni and got ready to try to pick it up.
“No, no, you silly bitch,” I heard a woman’s voice say, and then Raider lunged toward me.
“What’s her power again?” I asked as I threw a punch at her.
“Brute strength,” Jenson said, sounding out of breath.
I punched out at her again, and my power sent her hurtling back toward the glass. She shattered several panels, flying through and into the seats as people scattered and tried to get out of Raider’s way. I went after her and she disappeared.
“Fuck. They’ve got Brianne here too. She just disappeared.” I said as I landed near the Zamboni again. A second later, just as I was about to pick it up, I felt a hard impact from my right side and went flying across the ice. Raider stood by the Zamboni.
“We’re not done yet,” she said.
“Ah, I thought you ran. You assholes are so good at running,” I said, punching out at her face with a quick blast of my power. Her head snapped back and into the side of the Zamboni. She jumped back up, shaking her head, and lunged toward me. I ducked her fist and sent a punch at her, making her crash into the Zamboni again, which was still sending out its fog. She was struggling to stand, and I was gathering my power, going for the final knockout, when she disappeared.
I wanted to find her. Hunt her down. But I knew that my priority was getting the Zamboni and whatever it was loaded up with out of there.
Luckily, there were lots of empty farm fields, once you got out of the city limits where the college was. I bent and lifted the Zamboni as quickly as I could. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it. I managed, but my arms were shaking almost immediately, my body complaining at the sudden strain I was putting on it as I lifted the bulky machine and rose into the air. On top of that, I was trying to act quickly before one of Killjoy’s assholes stopped me again. I had to get this away from everyone before it made people sick.
Or, probably worse, dead, if she was pulling the same shit she’d pulled in Norway.
&nb
sp; I lifted it, got under it, trying to get a decent grip, and then rose into the air. I knew there were plenty of farms and fields to the southeast, so I started in that general direction.
“Jo, you have a fucker on your six,” Ryan said over my comm.
I couldn’t answer him, which I knew he realized. All I could do was fly faster, my body screaming under the strain of lifting what was turning out to be a ridiculous amount of weight. Note to self: Zambonis are even heavier than they look, and they look pretty goddamn heavy. The fog was still seeping from it, and all I could hope was that I wasn’t making it worse by moving it, possibly affecting more people.
But one hundred thousand plus, all in one place? I couldn’t just leave it there.
“Jo, she’s almost to you,” Ryan said over the comm. He sounded out of breath, straining, and I was pretty sure I heard screaming in the background.
There. A field lay ahead of me, and I pushed myself harder and stared coming in for a landing.
At that moment, something struck the side of the Zamboni, making it teeter and roll. A quick glance down told me we were still over a neighborhood. If it fell now, someone was getting hurt.
I tightened my grip on it, and whoever was flying at me hit it again.
I grimaced and did my best to maneuver the Zamboni, get it under control. I dropped it when I was about ten feet up, then fell to the ground myself.
“Whatsa matter?’ Tired?” a female voice said, and then she flew at me, knocking me down.
I was shaking. Exhausted. My already screwed-up reflexes were always even worse when I was tired. She flew, hit me again, and I stumbled back, falling into a fence post.
“You aren’t so tough,” she said. I pushed myself up again, just in time to catch the yellow blur that was hurtling at me from the sky. I gathered my power and threw everything I could manage at her.
It was… well. It was a lot. Her speed, plus the wall of power I threw at her resulted in her seeming to crash into nothing in midair and then drop to the ground, limp.
“Once upon a time, I used to worry about hurting people too badly,” I muttered as I made my way over to her. “Have to say, I hope you’re in a hell of a lot of pain when you wake up.”
I crouched down over her still form and felt for a pulse. Slow, but there, and still fairly strong. I dug a collar out of one of the pouches on my belt and affixed it around her neck, then pressed the clasp in back to tighten and activate it.
I stood up and look down at her.
“You all are predictable, though,” I muttered. “For example,” I put my hands out and stood firmly on her legs. Sure enough, after about a count of five, I felt someone trying to tug her away from me, and I sent a punch out in the direction I thought the tug was coming from.
“Fuck!” Brianne shouted. We knew her too well by now. She’d spent weeks foiling our attempts to get at several of our Detroit super villains, and we’d finally taken her in only to have her busted out of Command by Killjoy’s people. She moved, and I sent another blast of power at her. My punches and blasts were getting feeble. Still too tired, body shaking from the strain of carrying the Zamboni, plus my fight with the flying bitch. She struggled up again, and I was relieved to suddenly see Portia and Ryan standing beside me.
“You’re done,” Ryan said, lifting the stun gun toward Brianne and taking the shot. I could tell she was gathering her power to jump again, and it would take her long. The transporter was fast.
Lucky, Ryan was faster, at least when it came to shooting things.
I stepped off of the flying chick, who was still out. “Thanks,” I said to them.
“Yeah, it’s clear you needed our help pretty bad,” Ryan said, taking in the Zamboni, the downed villain at my feet, and the small crater I’d caused when I’d landed. “Such a damsel in distress,” he said wryly, and I shook my head.
“How are things at the stadium?” I asked.
“Better. Jenson and Beta are working with local law enforcement to get the crowd back under control. It looks like whichever villains were in attendance split after the Zamboni was deployed,” he said. We all turned to look at the Zamboni, Portia joining us after collaring and cuffing Brianne.
“It’s ticking,” Ryan said after a moment. He took my arm in his hand and pulled me away. “Now.” He said. I shrugged him off and bent to pick up the flyer, and he went to pick up Brianne. He threw a small disk that Beta had developed toward it, and it landed on top of the Zamboni. After a moment, it expanded, seeming to encompass the enormous machine in a clear bubble. Portia teleported us near one of the farmhouses, and, seconds later, the Zamboni exploded, shaking the ground around us.
Portia pressed her comm. “This is Portia. Send a cleanup crew to our current coordinates.” I exchanged a glance with Ryan, noting the humor in his eyes. This was Portia’s own personal little mission, making sure we cleaned up after ourselves. “I’ll take these two back to the detention center. Do you need me to port you or can you fly back to the stadium?” she asked me.
“I can get us back,” I said, and she gave me a nod, then grabbed the flyer and Brianne, and in the next moment, they were gone.
“Ready?” I asked.
Ryan shook his head. “We can wait a second. Rest up a little more.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure. Because you ordinarily carry around five thousand pounds of chemical-laden bomb while fighting in midair. Of course.”
“Psh. That’s nothing,” I said.
“Uh huh.”
“I could do that in my sleep,” I said, walking toward the bubble with its mass of burning, twisted metal inside. That would have killed just about everyone in the stadium, without a doubt. And whoever was left probably would have had some pretty nasty issues I was glad we weren’t going to have to deal with.
“I’m pretty sure I just snore when I’m asleep,” he said, and I turned to look at him, then quickly glanced away. There had been a subtle shift between us since Mama’s funeral and the closeness I’d felt with him then as he’d mourned my mother with me. We still worked perfectly together, just as comfortable and in tune as ever. We had picked up our training a couple times a week, Ryan teaching me how to subdue my opponents in ways other than just trying to hit the hell out of them. We met with Jenson, David, and Dani to plot our next move against Killjoy. All of it was the same, but… not. He’d had my back when I was going through all of that, and, shocking even to me, I’d let myself lean on him. I didn’t do that. Ever. There was that new aspect to our partnership now, and it kind of unsettled me. Other than Jenson, I haven’t let myself get close to any of my fellow StrikeForce members. And yet, here he was.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
“So that was Raider,” he said. “Wonder why she’s involved in this shit. She’s always been more focused on destroying Britain.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, debating whether I wanted to tell him the last bit of stupidity involving Connor… Killjoy, that I’d kept to myself.
“Um. Because she was married to Killjoy before.”
He stared at me. “She was married to the original Raider.”
“Yep.”
He watched at me for a bit, thinking. “The swords,” he murmured, obviously remembering the day we’d faced off against Killjoy and his crew. He’d had the same deadly-looking swords we had all seen in photos of Raider, who was one of the original super villains following the first Confluence. And Ryan had fought him back in the day. I’ve seen the photos and news footage.
He shook his head.
“I felt like an idiot. He told me…” I blew out a breath. “He told me who he’d been before, and that was why I stopped seeing him.”
Ryan didn’t answer. “Does anyone else know?”
I shook my head.
“Don’t you think they probably should? Considering he’s number one on our most wanted list and information like that might help?”
I nodded. Ryan using his reasonable, kind of dry voic
e is not my favorite. I want him to get pissed off. At least that, I know how to deal with. He doesn’t get mad, usually.
“Pretty stupid, huh?” I finally asked.
“No. Not stupid,” he said.
I crossed my arms.
“I get why you didn’t say anything. At first, you probably figured he changed, even if he was kind of an asshole. And by the time you knew better, who he used to be just didn’t seem all that important. Am I close?”
“Yeah. But it was still stupid. Keeping shit from you guys.”
“If you want to beat yourself up over it, fine. But I’m not going to pile it on.”
“You should. I lied to you guys.”
He turned to me, and now he had that look in his eyes. He was getting irritated. “Why the hell are you trying to fight with me?” he asked.
“I don’t know. A bit of a reaction, maybe, would be good.”
“What reaction? Get mad at you so you can be pissed off at me and decide to avoid me? Is that what you were hoping for?”
I crossed my arms and looked away.
“You do enough of a good job beating up on yourself without my help,” he said.
“Let’s just go,” I said. “Are you ready?”
“Sure. We’ll just not talk about any of this,” he said coolly.
“Sounds like a plan,” I muttered. I went behind him and grabbed him under his arms, and then we rose into the air and I flew us back the few miles to the arena. The crowd was mostly back in their seats, and to my shock, they’d continued the game after the chaos had died down. I set Ryan down and spotted Jenson nearby.
“Nice job,” she murmured to me. “Portia gave us an update. No sign of any of the others returning. I think that was their plan: set it off and leave.”
I nodded. “Powers of the other baddies?” I asked her.
“One guy who caused illness. Lots of puking in that section over there,” she said, pointing out a section that was now mostly empty. “A guy who used some kind of illusion to make it look like their biggest enemy was standing in front of them, set them off fighting,” she continued, and I shook my head. “One guy put a bunch of people to sleep. And then there was Raider, and the flyer you got, and Brianne.”
Darkest Day (StrikeForce #3) Page 1