by Lexie Dunne
And I threw myself headfirst into the sky.
Chapter 11
My stomach pitched and rolled as I hit the open air. The sidewalk hurtled toward me, faster than I liked. Teeth clenched, I used all of my willpower to phase. Usually I phased to sling-shot myself faster, to hit harder, but it worked to slow me down when I needed it. Angélica had spent the past year dropping me from taller and taller heights so I could phase down safely. We hadn’t reached this height yet, though. Now would be a very, very bad moment for my powers to glitch. And an even worse moment for me to be aware of that.
From this distance, I could see the flashes and bangs as heroes and villains fought it out. I aimed for the quieter side-street exit for Davenport Tower. With any luck, I’d skip the showy fight entirely and slip inside.
Fifteen feet from the ground, a man in a blue wrestling singlet turned, spotted me, and jumped right into my trajectory.
“Shit!” I threw my hands out—and turned. Midphase. I banked the built-up momentum and shot to the right, so close that the man’s punch skimmed the top of my helmet. The heels of my boots scraped across the concrete as I skidded backward, the force of the phase dissipating behind me.
What the hell? I’d never altered my direction while phasing before. I’d never been able to.
I didn’t get time to marvel, though, for Wrestling Maniac bounded at me, his strides shaking the ground. My systems didn’t flash any alerts beyond the guy’s name, meaning I was on my own. He tried to grab me in a wrestling hold, but I ducked and hit him with a haymaker that would’ve dropped a normal human. He merely grinned. So he had some indestructibility, which meant I really didn’t have time to fight him. My objective was to get inside and locate Kiki. Luckily there were a lot of other superheroes around for him to bother. I made a break for the door.
That was when he hit me with a chair.
Safe to say, I didn’t see that coming. Purple flashed before I felt a blunt pain ricochet through my back, and I hit the ground rolling. When I looked up, Wrestling Maniac was triumphantly holding up a padded blue armchair. Even with his gigantic arms and dinner-plate hands, it looked absolutely ridiculous.
He laughed, showing me a sizable gap between his front teeth, and tossed the chair to the side. When he held out both hands, a bar stool shimmered into existence with a puff of purple smoke. Great. A villain with the ability to summon chairs. He must be a real asset in a bar brawl.
I scrambled to my feet and launched a minirocket from my gauntlet. It exploded as it hit him in the chest. I spun in place and raced for the doors. A split second later, I felt the telltale shake of the ground as he bounded after me. I turned, ready to battle it out, and dodged the park bench he swung at my head. Hell, that thing was longer than I was. How did this ability even work? I sprang at him, bobbing and weaving away from the chairs he summoned. He flung another armchair at me that dented my armor; I scorched the whole left half of his body with another minirocket.
The chaise lounge caught me by surprise, sweeping me clear off of my feet.
I hit the ground, coughing. Wrestling Maniac advanced on me—until he stopped midstep, seizing. Electricity exploded from his chest like little staticky spiders. Smoking faintly, he collapsed.
Standing behind him was my ex with one hand extended.
“Thanks for the assist,” I said, groaning as I made my way to my feet.
Jeremy didn’t offer me a hand. Instead, he leaned over, resting his hands on his thighs and panting. He hadn’t worked up a sweat, and his hair remained perfect. No mask for him, apparently. “I wasn’t sure I could even do that.”
“Well, I personally am glad you can. Where did you even come from?”
“Doesn’t matter. If you’re looking to get inside, this way’s clear,” he said, jerking his head not toward Davenport but down the street.
I raced after him. “You’re not really here, are you?”
“Nope.” He stopped at a manhole cover and gestured.
I hauled it open and was about to drop through when a dash of color in the corner of my eye distracted me. Every instinct screamed at me to get out of the open, but I paused and turned to look. The suit’s scanners picked up the outline of two women around the corner of a nearby building. Details scrolled across my eyepiece.
I jumped into the sewer. When I landed, Jeremy—or rather, his avatar—stood waiting, though he’d been on the street when I jumped. “Your body’s inside?” I asked.
“It’s safe for now. Follow me.”
“Hold that thought,” I said, and reached around to the catch beneath my mask, which opened the suit and allowed me to step out.
“What are you doing?”
“Something really stupid, probably,” I said. I climbed to the street level and peeked out. Wrestling Maniac lay out cold, drooling onto the cement, and the other villains and heroes were too locked into their battles to notice me. In my armor, I had a target on my back, but my yoga pants and tank top let me slip under the radar. I darted across the street, hissing when I accidentally ʼported a couple feet and scraped my ankle against the curb. Whatever the hell the Mobium was doing, I wished it would hurry up and get it over with already. I hauled myself onto a scaffolding, aiming for a gentle landing. So of course the scaffolding wobbled and squeaked.
God, I really hoped they hadn’t heard that.
My biggest obstacle in becoming the Raptor was that I’d never been curious. Through four years of constant kidnappings, I’d never once questioned what made me so valuable to Blaze that villains would target me. Part of it had been a defense mechanism against helplessness, but really, my main issue was that I’d developed a habit of accepting the status quo. Jessie had spent this entire year teaching me to question things, to sort out what didn’t fit and discover why.
And seeing two known supervillains merely standing outside a full-blown fight and observing? That didn’t fit.
Tamara Diesel and Lady Danger were in the alley below, seemingly unaware of my presence. Lady Danger’s opulent dress appeared to be a little more wrinkled than it had last night. Maybe I wasn’t the only one having a bad day. Neither Viceroy Fitzhubert, Esquire nor Captain Fortescue the Third appeared to be around, luckily for me.
“Six months of work,” Tamara Diesel said in disgust as I crept closer. “I had everything planned, every contingency covered—or at least that’s what Excalibur told me. Remind me to beat his face in later, will you?”
Excalibur? That was a new one.
“Captain Fortescue has need of a new chew toy, if that fate interests you,” Lady Danger said, twirling her parasol.
Tamara Diesel rubbed her temple and appeared to ignore her. “The mayor will have her hands full dealing with Fearless. This is ruining everything.”
“And it was such a solid plan, too,” Lady Danger said, twirling her parasol. “Though I can’t say I’m of the opinion that plans are a good thing, overall. They’ve never seemed to do me much good.”
So last night had only been the first stage. The mayor was somehow a target. What did they want with her?
The scaffolding rattled as a bright burst of red energy hit the building ten feet above my head. I ducked and held my breath, waiting for an attack, but none came.
“Ugh.” Diesel crossed her arms over her chest. “Amateurs. Say, were you around for the first reign of terror?”
“I only came along for the end of it. Though I am honored to say I was one of the first prisoners in Detmer.” Lady Danger pulled something from her reticule and studied it in the light. It took nearly two seconds for me to realize it was an actual heart. I clapped my hand over my mouth and tried not to throw up.
I’d never live it down if Tamara Diesel and Lady Danger killed me because puking had given me away.
“Detmer was nicer back then,” Lady Danger said, taking a dainty and gory bite of the heart. “Guards were willing to overlook a great deal more.”
Nicer? When I’d been there, a massage therapist had been permanentl
y on call. Prisoners could order chocolate fountains delivered straight to their cells.
“Though I did never understand what would keep Rita there. I must declare that I do have some sympathy that she’s chosen this moment for her return. I know how hard you’ve worked.” Lady Danger took another gory bite of the heart. The squelch made me gag.
This time, the fireball that hit the side of the building was blue-toned. It exploded in a bright sunburst, so hot that it melted the scaffolding above me. I didn’t have time to dodge back before both women looked up.
Tamara Diesel met my eyes, already snarling. “Hey!”
Time to go.
I scrambled up from my hiding place, sprinting along the scaffolding. Behind me, I heard a wrenching noise. The scaffolding teetered away from the building as Tamara telekinetically yanked it. The uneven boards beneath my feet began to split. Desperately, I sprang forward, landing on the other side of a gap, and kept running. The Raptorlet armor would have automatically scanned for dangers, but I had only my wits. Which apparently weren’t enough to warn me that I was about to run out of scaffolding.
I crashed into the railing overlooking the street. When Tamara Diesel tried to mentally yank the planks from under me, I jumped. A phase hurtled me over several lanes of abandoned traffic and across the street.
Right through the ongoing battle.
Another blue-tinged fireball passed so close I felt the hair on my arm burn off. Heart in my throat, I landed on a small ledge on Davenport Tower. My fists pulverized chunks of the stone façade as I clung desperately, trying not to fall.
Davenport Tower hadn’t been built in the Art Deco style, which was unfortunately the only architectural style I knew. So I had no idea what to call the detailing and angles, the ledges and the whatnots. But I did know they were concrete, pitted from the acidity of New York’s rainfall, and that they hurt like hell when Tamara Diesel ripped them off the building and used them to bludgeon me.
God, I hated telekinesis.
“Shit!” I began climbing. Tamara Diesel continued ripping giant slabs from the building, tossing them at me. Dropping and running would only mean she’d chase me. So instead I went up, coiling all the power in my arms to haul me skyward. It was like leapfrogging up the building, phasing and snatching handholds. When random bits of concrete and stone stopped pelting me, I stopped and clung to the side, gasping. Finally out of range.
I looked down in time to see Tamara Diesel shoot me a poisonous look. Then she vanished.
Well, great. I gulped in air, trying to center myself. Dangling from a building without a stitch of armor in the middle of a super battle royal seemed foolhardy at best. I needed to get back to the armor and to my original mission, but movement through the window caught my attention. Davenport Tower should have been empty of all topside occupants. I scuttled closer to the glass to investigate.
Almost immediately, I yanked myself back out of sight.
Out of the villainous frying pan, into the evil fire, it seemed.
I’d wound up outside of the HEX briefing room, where destruction reigned. Tables had been flipped, the coffeemaker smashed against the wall, monitors shattered. Six or seven villains gathered, all obviously trying not to cower away from Rita, who stood in the middle of the room in her jeweled headpiece and flowing cape.
That single glimpse made my brain giddy with panic. I clung to the outside of the building, my body quaking. Only sheer stupid bravery made me peek in again.
“Have you located it?” Rita asked a villain in a gold mask.
He shook his head. “It’s not here, ma’am.”
“Hmm. How certain are you of that? Are you willing to stake your life on it?”
Gold Mask looked at his friends for support, but everybody had found fascinating things to study on the walls. “All the vaults on this floor have been cleaned out,” he said.
Gail, where are you? Kiki’s voice blared in my head like a loudspeaker. I scrambled to keep my grip.
Outside the HEX briefing room, I thought back at her.
What the—get out of there! Rita’s in there!
No shit, I thought at her, wondering where she was because her voice was clearer in my head than it ever had been. When I say outside, I mean literally. I’m on the side of the building. They don’t know I’m here.
Please get out of there, Kiki said, her voice taking on a desperate edge. It’s not safe.
I peeked through the window again as Rita picked up Gold Mask by the throat. Ah, supervillain tactics never changed. She’s looking for something.
Gail, seriously, get away from Rita, Kiki said.
All right, all right.
I crouched down on the ledge, eyeballing the jump, but my ears caught Rita’s voice: “Very well, if you claim it’s not here, I’ll believe you. Tell everybody to pull back. No reason to stay to see the show really begin.”
I stopped at Rita’s words, my brow furrowing. What show? She was already putting on a pretty spectacular fireworks display with the retinue of blast-y supervillains around Davenport Tower. What kind of show could possibly usurp that?
Realization struck, draining me bloodless.
There’s a bomb, I thought at Kiki.
What?
I jumped off Davenport Tower and landed clumsily, running for the door. She’s planted a bomb somewhere. The place is gonna blow! Get everybody out of there!
I ran for the door, calling up the blueprints of the building in my head. I knew all of the best stress and fracture points for a building like Davenport, which meant I knew the most ideal locations to plant bombs. If I could get to one before time ran out—or if Jeremy could . . .
Jeremy.
“Oh, shit!” I changed course and put on a burst of speed, phasing to the manhole cover. I slid in like a runner headed for home, landing hard beside the inactive armor.
Jeremy’s avatar popped into view. “You’re back!”
“There’s a bomb!”
“What? There’s no way she could’ve planted . . .” Jeremy’s voice trailed off as his eyes went blank. “It’s in the subbasement, down near Medical.”
I stepped into the armor. “Can you disarm it?”
“They’ve armed it with a failsafe. If I fry it, it’ll still go off. Wait, don’t go down there, there’s no time!” He tried to grab my arm, but his hand passed clean through. “Run!”
“Jeremy—your body—”
“I’ll be all right.” But his look before he blinked out of existence was terrified.
I debated, but Jeremy hadn’t said how much time remained. Swearing, my heart in my throat, I hopped back into the armor and took off running in the opposite direction.
Right as the bomb went off.
Something thundered in the distance. The ground shook beneath my boots, heaving and buckling, and everything went to hell. Chunks of rock rained down on me as I ran. Fissures beneath my feet chased me through the sewers, keeping up with me even as I phased. A large hunk of debris glanced off my shoulder. I grunted, ricocheting off the wall hard enough to see sparks at the edge of my vision.
I saw the flying block of concrete as it rocketed toward my face, but there wasn’t any way to stop it. Darkness folded in around me. My last thought before it swallowed me was to hope that Jeremy had made it out.
Chapter 12
This time, I didn’t black out.
I certainly expected to: the concrete slammed hard into my forehead, sending bright sunbursts of pain across my vision. But the darkness that grabbed me wasn’t unconsciousness at all. I’d merely been buried alive. Which wasn’t all that much better than blacking out, but I’d take whatever I could get.
Sensors in my armor began to scream all at once as the crushing pile of rock damaged the structural integrity. I blinked against the oppressive blackness through the visor, but my eyes didn’t adjust. My heart began to race.
“Jeremy!” I strained against the rubble and rebar, unable to move. “Help! Somebody!”
M
y pulse rushed in my ears, and I tried to gasp in air. How much oxygen did I have? How long could the suit hold up? Sweat coated my entire body. Panic squeezed like an iron vise, constricting my chest. I blinked against the oppressive blackness, but my eyes didn’t adjust.
“Help!”
I heard only the grumble of shifting rubble—which sounded like a thunderclap in my ears—and my own shallow, hurried breathing. I gulped harder. I wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Even the Mobium couldn’t keep me alive long if I couldn’t breathe. I began to tremble. Was this how I would die, trapped in the rubble of an explosion? Was Jeremy already dead? Was Jessie? Would I be joining them soon?
Merely thinking of Jessie alone was enough to summon a mental image of her, and one that didn’t seem very impressed. “Really?” she asked me. “That’s it?”
I tried to bat her away. Didn’t she understand that I was trapped, that the suit was failing, that I couldn’t breathe?
“You’re just giving up?” Jessie clicked her tongue. “I don’t even have half of your strength and I wouldn’t let a measly little pile of rock defeat me.”
“I know what you’re doing,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Me? I’m not doing anything. This is all in your brain.”
She had a point. Or rather, my brain had a point. Later on, I’d take a moment to marvel, but now I acknowledged the sensors in the suit, quieting them and cutting off their horror movie soundtrack. It didn’t change the facts, but it made it slightly easier to breathe. My eyepiece spat out information that I finally focused on. I’d landed on my back, but I wasn’t entirely horizontal. Mercifully, my head was elevated over my feet. Not the most ideal position to push free, but if I’d ended up upside down, the panicking would definitely have kicked in again.
Priority one had to be getting out from under the rubble.
God, this would be so much easier if I weren’t starving. My stomach felt hollow, but I summoned all the energy I could muster and pushed back against the rocks. The pile around me rumbled. I pushed harder, ignoring renewed warnings from the suit about the armor being crushed. Got that memo, thanks. I gritted my teeth, steeled myself for one large shove, and put everything I had into it. The rubble groaned, but with one final burst of strength, I shoved free—and quickly rolled out of the way as the entire mound came crashing back down.