by Drew Hayes
“I am going to give you one, and only one, chance to surrender.”
She turned to find a man in a suit of custom combat armor staring back at her. He must have moved quite silently, in spite of the cumbersome outfit he wore. It was meant to protect him, no doubt. Meant to keep him safe from the dangers of the world. She would rip through it as easily as she would rend his flesh.
“You people have killed innocent students, barely more than children, in your quest to come after us. Trust me when I say, you do not want to see me angrier than I already am. Surrender. Now.”
“What gives you the right to make demands of me?” She laughed, her voice bouncing off the rubble still raining down behind her. “Perhaps you still don’t understand your situation. Most of the time, you might be the strongest, most powerful Super on the battlefield, but not today. Today, I am the strongest. I am a god.” She raised her hands, preparing to let loose a torrent of energy. “And you are just one more corpse at my feet.”
There was no warning before it happened. One moment, she could feel the power coursing through her, begging to be let out. The next instant, it was gone, along with her shield. All of it, all of the beautiful, bountiful power Crispin had bestowed on her vanished. A cry of shock slipped loose from her mouth, but it was nothing compared to the shriek of pain she let out moments later as a fist crashed into her stomach.
“Point of fact: I’m never the strongest Super on the field,” he told her. His hand grabbed her arm and pulled it back, then he drove his elbow down and shattered it clean through. She screamed, but he paid her no mind as he slammed a foot into her knee. The cracking sound rang in her ears as she fell to the ground.
“Most of my opponents are like you: so drunk on what they can do that they’ve lost all touch with what it’s like to be human. I’m not like your kind; I’m far closer to a human than a god. If Supers didn’t exist, I wouldn’t even technically have a power. In a way, you can think of me as the ultimate human, the one who drags you down off your thrones and reminds you just how mortal you really are.”
He gripped a gloved hand around her throat, and she felt a slight tingle run through her body. She could scarcely perceive it over all of the pain, yet she noticed it all the same.
“Impact, get Wisp over here. I’ve powered down one of the five. Something tells me she might just know where all the key people are hiding, and she’s going to tell us. Eventually.”
* * *
The explosion of dirt nearly sent Roy tumbling over in surprise. For a moment, he thought someone had detonated a land mine nearby, improbable as it was for mines to be buried topside at Lander. But then he saw the figure standing there, pulling itself from the crater it had created, and Roy understood. Leaping around was the strongman’s only option for expedient travel. It took a lot of practice to do with precision and care, but it was much easier if one didn’t give a shit about anything they landed on.
“Hey, are you a Hero?” Roy called, waving his hand through the dirt lingering in the air. The guy didn’t seem to be in costume, but Roy couldn’t imagine they had been given a lot of time once the emergency call went out.
The man swiveled around to face Roy, and for the first time, the young student got a look at his features. His face was the color of dark metal, and spurs stuck out from all over his skin. Given how much power he’d landed with, the guy was obviously denser than his frame would suggest. Roy’s first instinct was shifter, but the man seemed almost too human for that. Maybe a power that was fully activated, like the way Chad looked when using his bone armor. The expression on his face as he took in Roy’s presence answered the question before a word passed the twisted grin that appeared on his lips.
“A Hero? How fucking dare you. I’m no one’s puppet, you little shit.” The man surged forward, but Roy was already moving. He charged down into the crater, faked right, and then took a wide swing with his bat at this strange man’s shoulder. It was meant to make him step back, where Roy would be prepared to pull the swing around and hit him in the leg, but to his shock, the man didn’t so much as twitch. He took the blow full-on and stood there with an even deeper smile.
Pain tore through Roy’s hands as his bat came to a dead stop against his opponent’s shoulder. This wasn’t like getting a blow absorbed by Vince; Roy had the sore hands to prove that contact was made. No, the hit had simply been too weak to even move him. It didn’t make sense; Roy knew he had used enough strength to elicit some reaction, but the evidence was right in front of him.
“For a kid, that wasn’t too terrible.”
The man rushed forward, slamming a fist into Roy’s right shoulder. It was the exact spot where Roy had hit him, only Roy wasn’t able to shrug it off. He was sent sprawling back through the grass, tumbling on the ground until he finally came to rest on his back twenty feet away. If the blow had been angled upward, Roy would have been an uncontrolled rocket screaming into the night sky. He also would have been safe, which was probably why the punch had kept him earthbound.
Roy tried to pull himself up, noticing that his right shoulder was little more than powdered bone at this point. If Roy were a regular human, he estimated the attack would have torn his arm from his body. And it hadn’t even looked like the guy was trying that hard. Roy raised his bat with his left hand just in time to see his opponent land on top of him.
The wind escaped Roy as incredibly dense knees sank into his torso, driving him hard back to the ground. He struggled to right himself, bracing his bat on the ground to push with, but the man snatched it out of his hands effortlessly.
“Ah, the ultra-heavy material some Supers use for weight training. You must be damn strong to be able to swing this much around. Ordinarily, I doubt I’d even be able to lift a bat like this. Too bad for you, though.” The man tightened his grip, and before Roy’s eyes, the bat bent like putty, forming around his hand with the slightest effort. “Tonight, I’m not the ordinary me. I’m indestructible. I’m unstoppable. Tonight, I’m the strongest fucking Super on the entire planet.”
“I’ve got a whole line of merchandise that says otherwise.”
Roy couldn’t see the source of the punch; he only made out the fist as it connected with his attacker’s face. Unlike the blow he’d dealt with his bat, this one produced a significant result. The man was hurled off Roy’s torso; the sounds of him smashing through the grass filled Roy’s ears even as he strained to refill his lungs with sweet, precious air. Turning his head slightly, he made out the form of his savior. In one glance, Roy was both pissed off and completely relieved. He hated seeing the man standing over him, and hated even more that this was who had saved him, but at least he knew he was safe. It didn’t matter what this weird guy had going for him, no one was more powerful than Titan.
“Strongest Super on the planet? You’re going to have to do more than knock down a student to win that title. But I’m a sporting man; I’ll let you have a shot.” Titan glanced down at his son, and Roy could see the fury in the large man’s eyes. “In fact, let’s give that claim a good, thorough testing.”
248.
The speedster whipped across campus, eyes peeled for any of the professors he was supposed to eliminate. Screeching wind had dried the blood on his hand, and it was time to wet it once more. Still, he knew he had to be careful. That little telekinetic shit had nearly managed to take him out of the fight without so much as throwing a punch. Crispin’s gift had made him nearly unbeatable, but against HCP staff, he’d still need to bring his A-game. No more playing around or taunting them. When he caught sight of a gray mask or costume, he would strike without hesitation. They’d never even see it coming.
He noticed a small blast of flame from behind a nearby building and reoriented himself. Maybe it was one of the lower-level Supers they’d put with the mercenary teams, but on the off chance it was a student—or better yet, a professor—he had to check it out. Just to be safe, he swung wide to see what was happening before rushing blindly around the building’s corn
er. Sure enough, there was a kid in a gray mask and uniform with three mercenaries lying at his feet. An elemental of fire, it seemed. Not a bad power at all, but it wouldn’t make a difference against a foe moving too fast to fight.
Zipping forward, he readied a blow to smash through the kid’s stomach, just like the one he’d used to put down the other speedster. The young Super turned to face his impending death, crisp blue eyes barely able to track the blur of an approaching reaper. It struck the man that this kid didn’t actually seem afraid the moment before impact. There was nothing in those eyes; not fear, not surprise, not even anger. Had he been more battle-seasoned, or even a bit smart, he might have rethought his tactic of rushing in. Sadly, for him, the amplified Super was neither of those things, and he slammed his fist into Vince Reynolds without bothering to hold back.
His blow landed, that much was clear from the feeling of the soft material against his knuckles, but something was wrong. Not only was his opponent unhurt, there was no feedback from the punch either. It was as though he’d just rested his hand against the kid, instead of punching through him at several hundred miles per hour. It confused him, and he hesitated. Only for a moment, but for a trained opponent, that was more than enough to capitalize on.
Vince’s hand closed around the man’s neck, tight enough to hold him firmly, but not so powerfully as to choke him. He immediately began to struggle, slapping Vince’s hands with his speedy arms and running to pull himself away. Everything was utterly ineffective. It was as though he was running on perfectly smooth ice, and his blows may as well have been butterflies landing on a statue, for as much as the kid seemed to feel them.
“You’re all kinetic,” Vince said. His grip was firm, unwavering. Carefully, he tilted the man’s face upward, so that they were looking each other in the eyes. “I can’t do more than one at a time, but I’ve been getting really good at whichever one I’m doing. As long as I’m touching you, I can take all of your kinetic energy. And I mean all of it.”
In that moment, the man felt a sensation he’d never experienced before. It was like going down stairs one had tread a thousand times, only to find the last step missing. His heart was thundering in his chest due to the combination of excitement, movement, and now a touch of fear. For one of the beats, however, something strange happened. His heart beat . . . and none of his blood moved. It wasn’t a feeling he ever could have imagined, but as soon as he felt it, there was no denying what had occurred. His eyes went wide, and he redoubled his efforts, struggling against the young man with the icy blue eyes.
“I’m not that smart, and I’ve had to struggle a lot with math and science throughout college. But even I know that your blood moves oxygen throughout your body. What happens if your blood just stops, I wonder? Do you think it will feel like suffocating, even as your lungs are full of air? Maybe you’ll just pass out first, going peacefully. I have to imagine the time before you lose consciousness is going to be rough, though.”
None of the heartbeats were working anymore, despite the organ’s valiant attempts to force the blood to move. Somehow, this kid, this monster, was stealing the force away. He clawed at the arm holding him, tried to run his nails across the masked face. Nothing worked. This child was going to kill him. Not like a warrior on the battlefield, but like a fish trapped on land, flopping about until he died.
“You don’t deserve a peaceful death. You don’t know how badly I want to cut you loose and beat you senseless. I want you to suffer for what you’ve done. Like Alex is going to suffer for the rest of his life. Like her friends are going to suffer. Like everyone who knew and loved the girl you killed is going to suffer. I want to make you feel every bit of that pain, but I can’t. If I gave into that anger, you might get away and kill someone else, and I promised that no more of us would die tonight. So, lucky you. Looks like you get a peaceful death after all.”
It didn’t feel peaceful in the slightest. It felt wrong, and awful. His muscles seemed heavy and slow, and his vision was blurring. Everything was wrong. Everything was sickening. His blood was rotting away in his very veins. When Crispin gave him his mission, he’d been willing to die, but now, staring into the eyes of his killer, that conviction waned.
“You can’t do this.” A short girl in a gray mask and uniform came around the corner of a building.
“How did you find me?”
“I was sent to heal Obi; he told me about how you’d left. I had Short Brain track you down as soon as I heard, because I was afraid you’d do something . . . like this. It’s time to stop. You’ve subdued him. He’s beaten. That’s what Heroes do, remember? Killing is supposed to be a last resort.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not a Hero yet, am I?” His grip tightened slightly, and the man’s head began to spin.
“But you’re also not a murderer.” She came over, only a few feet away from the man who was drowning in a sea of air. “And that’s what this will be. Murder. Don’t let him do that to you. Don’t give this piece of shit the satisfaction of making you worse. It’s not what Sasha would want.”
“Sasha’s dead.” For a moment, the detached demeanor slipped away, revealing the scarred, raw emotional landscape that was boiling under the blue-eyed boy’s surface.
“Then, how about the fact that it’s not what I want? Or what any of your friends want? Or how about the fact that it’s not what you—the you not so lost in grief that he can’t think straight— would want? This isn’t killing in the line of duty. This is something you can never undo. Someday, you’ll make peace with losing your friend. This? This, I can’t see the man I love ever forgiving himself for. So please, don’t do that to the real you. Please.” She leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his wide torso.
For a moment, it seemed to have no effect, but then a single heartbeat managed to make his blood move. It was so little, but after the oxygen drought his body had endured, it felt like a great lungful of air.
“I don’t . . . he killed her. I wasn’t there to save her. I’m supposed to be able to save everyone. That’s why I’m . . .” His voice cracked and tears began to flow as the calm shell splintered away at last.
“No one can save everyone. That’s why there’s so many of us. That’s why we work in teams.” The girl let go of him and reached over, laying her bare hand on the man’s forehead. She leaned closer and whispered in his ear.
“Unlike him, I can make you suffer.”
That was the last thing he was able to make out before the sound of snapping bones filled his ears, which were quickly pooling with blood. He wasn’t dead as he fell away from the grip on his throat, but the pain made it seem like a close possibility.
Above the twisted and broken body, the young man fell into the small girl’s shoulder, weeping as the last of his self-control was finally broken.
249.
Emerald Hydra knocked away the pieces of concrete effortlessly, not even bothering to raise a shield. Across the courtyard, past the ruined rubble remains of what had once been a very scenic fountain, her opponent seethed in frustration. The man had power; there was no question about that. His amplification had brought him into the upper echelon of telekinetic Supers. In terms of raw force, he’d have blown away even Mary. And, were they brute fighters, that might have been enough to win the day, but telekinetic battles were about far more than raw mental strength. Coordination, focus, and a high level of precision were also key factors, factors that weren’t achieved by simply being handed a boost in power.
Around her, dozens upon dozens of pieces of rubble rose from the ground, far more than any other telekinetic would have been able to wield well. That was why she had taken a moniker with the name “Hydra” in it, after all. Like the ancient beast of legends, she could attack from nearly countless directions.
The rubble zipped about, slamming ineffectively against his shield. She continued the assault until the chunks of rock were mere pebbles, then sent a telekinetic blast of raw force right up the middle, slamming into the front
of his shield. As the rocks were tumbling to the ground, Emerald Hydra made a small click in the side of her mouth. It was almost inaudible, even if one had been standing right next to her. From across the courtyard, it would have been impossible to notice.
“That was a good effort, but I think it’s my tu—” His words were cut off by the spray of blood as his head, and the mighty brain within it, dissolved into a wet, red mist.
“Silly novices. They always drop their shields between assaults to save energy. Nice shot, Impact.”
“Thanks for wearing him down,” Impact’s voice said in her ear. “Black Hole and Seamstress have pretty much taken care of the bug shifter. That just leaves the strongman, though I don’t think he’ll be an issue much longer.”
* * *
“Who the hell are you?” spat the man as he pulled himself up from the ground. He was rubbing his jaw in obvious pain, and the surprise in his eyes spoke to how confused he was to have been even remotely bothered by the blow.
“Damn, my agent is going to be pissed there are still people out there who don’t know I’m back.” He shook his head and let out a theatrically long sigh. “I’m a lot of things, to answer your question. A father who cashed in favors to watch his son’s exam. A Hero who happened to be in town when your little dome shot up. A Super who could use a good fight, if you can actually offer one. But all of that is a bit cumbersome to say, so why don’t you go ahead and call me Titan.”
“Titan? He quit forever ago.” The wild smile reappeared on his face, and he stopped rubbing his jaw. “You’re a fake, or you’re out of practice. Either way, you won’t get another lucky blow.”