Fid's Crusade

by David Reiss

  **I'm all right!** I insisted as I parsed the medical warnings that were vying for my attention. There was nothing immediately fatal, but I would definitely need to replace my liver and kidneys again. Fortunately, I had spare clone-organs already growing in one of my labs and the nanites in my system would be able to slow the internal bleeding before it became life-threatening. **Whisper, I'll be fine.**

  **...promise...?**

  **I promise,** I stated, then winced. Apparently, Doctor Fid was villain enough that he was willing to make commitments to children that he wasn't certain he could keep. What a disappointing thing to learn about one's self.

  **Should I activate the devices?** Whisper asked.

  **How many have been teleported?** I shook my head to clear away the daze, gritting my teeth against a shooting pain that seemed to travel from between my shoulder blades to my fingertips; a herniated disc and pinched nerves could be added to my litany of injuries. I started turning off pain receptors via the neural link.

  **Twenty two. Almost twenty-three,** the little android replied.

  **Then hold off.** My staff was again summoned to my hands, and I used it to help stabilize myself as I struggled to my feet. **Let me know when everything is in place.**

  Sphinx was still fighting with grim determination, trading blows with her mind-controlled teammate Majestic; Peregrine was awake and battling at her side, but his effectiveness was limited when operating in a relatively small battlefield. Given a sufficient distance in which to accelerate, the man's powerset would allow him to deliver blows that exceeded even Valiant's capabilities...but at that speed, he wouldn't be able to easily turn to avoid buildings. He was at his most dangerous when in space or the upper atmosphere where he could easily chart a straight and obstruction-less path to his target.

  Behind my faceless mask, I bared my teeth in a vicious grin.

  (“Doctor Fid might be a supervillain,” I remember once thinking, “but perhaps he could save the world right out from under the fraudulent superheroes' noses.”)

  I launched a series of emerald-hued force-blasts at Sphinx, missing on purpose; she didn't even turn to acknowledge the attacks. Peregrine, on the other hand...his gaze whipped towards me, expression filled with indignation and righteous rage; she must have told him about our earlier confrontation. In a flash, he was barreling towards me in a ludicrously obvious charge.

  I shifted my grip on the orichalcum warstaff and, at the last moment, triggered my flight controls to jerk me into position as I swung with all of the Mk 35's might.

  Slim, socially awkward Terrance Markham had never played a game of baseball. Years younger than his classmates, Terry had been excused from most group activities at gym. In any case, no one would have chosen the small and often distracted little boy for their team. Doctor Fid, on the other hand, had two decades of experience hitting things.

  While he was flying, the extent of Peregrine's invulnerability was a thing of legend; during the course of his heroic career, even the most extraordinary blows had left him only momentarily stunned. The soaring hero could not be damaged, not by any force known. He was, however, slave to the laws of physics.

  With my density-manipulators straining, I'd had as much mass as a battleship at the moment of contact.

  The jarring impact traveled up my arms and lit the pinched nerve in my neck afire; spinal damage apparently circumvented the sensation-nullifying functions of my neural tap. No matter; as I watched the 'hero' disappear into the sky, my sense of smug satisfaction outweighed any pain I might feel. There was a non-zero percent chance that I'd just sent Peregrine into orbit.

  He wouldn't be harmed, I knew, so I tasked my sensors (and contacted every satellite I could think of) to chart his return path. And then I returned my attention to Valiant; he was pounding away at one of Aeon's milky-white force-field bubbles. I didn't see Titan or Veridian, so I presumed that all three heroes were taking refuge within that sphere.

  I roared a wordless challenge and dove at the world's mightiest hero.

  There are no words to easily describe close combat against a creature like Valiant. He was too fast, too strong, too deadly...every energy blast struck with the power of a tsunami, every punch shook the earth like a volcano's eruption. He was a force of nature.

  It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal proportions.

  With my combat algorithms active, the savage dance would have required the entirety of my focus. Now...my attention was divided, I was injured, and even the Mk 35's upgraded structural-integrity fields were having difficulty holding the orichalcum armor plates together. I was fighting defensively, blocking and rolling with blows whenever possible...but more system warnings were being raised with every passing second, more medical alerts blaring directly into my mind. Valiant was slowly pummeling me to death, but the process was taking time and time was all that I wanted.

  I darted forward, wrapping the Mk 35's massive arms around Valiant's chest; I couldn't overpower him, couldn't out-wrestle him...but I could, for just a moment, outmaneuver him. Flight systems strained to their utmost as I spun just in time.

  Peregrine had (predictably) used the trajectory that I'd compelled upon him to swing a high arc and had descended with the aggressive precision of his namesake bird: a straight line from the exosphere back to the courtyard of the Mercer-Tallon building. Accelerating all the while, his final velocity would have been several times the speed of sound and the shock-wave shook my bones.

  Perhaps Peregrine had seen me as the greater threat, or perhaps he merely wanted revenge for revealing his leader's crimes. No matter his motivation, the homicidal hero had fully intended upon striking me upon my already-injured spine. Instead, I twisted, and the irresistible force had met the immovable Valiant at full velocity.

  The African-American hero had borne the brunt of the extraordinary impact, but I still was rattled momentarily senseless and tumbled to a stop dozens of feet away. The pavement was sundered and windows no doubt shattered for blocks in every direction. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a slight visual distortion as the Mercer-Tallon building's force-fields flickered and failed.

  For a moment, it seemed as though the world had gone silent. Throughout the courtyard, every combatant was still: stunned and deafened. If Wildcard were still alive, I expected that his healing powers would be in high demand later this evening.

  **I'm done!** Whisper trilled victoriously into my mind and I smiled.

  Valiant was back on his feet, and I had to use antigravitics to match his accomplishment. He was bloodied and bruised and one eye was swelling shut, but I saw my death in his gaze. Fortunately, the Legion officer piloting Valiant's body was too late. I'd won.

  I began to laugh, and Doctor Fid's vocoder made my weary relief sound terrifying.

  **Now!** I called to Whisper, and I felt her ebullient cheer in response as she triggered the activation of all twenty-seven apparatuses.

  There was no sound, no sensation, no visible effect at all...save that every mind-controlled combatant collapsed at once.

  I savored the moment, laughter increasing in volume, and all eyes were upon me as I turned to face the Mercer-Tallon building and raised my warstaff. Six full-yield plasma-blasts later and nothing survived inside the structure.

  It was over.

  ◊◊◊

  “What's up, Doc?” Starnyx grins at me irreverently and lifts his beer in a playful toast.

  “ 'Up' is a direction,” I reply in a practiced deadpan. Even though I don't plan on drinking tonight, my heavy armor settles in to take a seat next to him at the bar. “Generally defined as being the opposite of 'down'.”

  He laughs delightedly. “Seriously, Doc. What can I do for you?”

  “I...don't have anything planned this month,” I explain, haltingly. “I suppose that I was just in the mood for company.”

  Nyx smiles, and there's some hint of affectionate pride in his expression. I'm embarrassed to find myself grateful.

  It's e
arly July; not so long ago, this time of the year would have been spent in preparation to lure out some unlucky hero and to administer a punishing beating. Thanks largely to Starnyx's unexpected intervention, that plan had been abandoned. It's strange to be approaching the anniversary without imminent violence dominating my thoughts. Strange, but not unwelcome.

  This morning, I caught myself craving macaroni and cheese with sliced up hot-dogs. I thought of sunlight instead of blood, and laughter instead of tears.

  And so, I'm here. Encased within powered armor, hiding behind a faceless mask, and awkwardly avoiding thanking the man who had reached out to me, unbidden, and offered advice that had somehow metamorphosed into a gift.

  “Hey, man, I'm glad that you're here,” Nyx interjects suddenly. “Some buddies of mine are dropping by in a bit, I wanna introduce 'em to you.”

  “I don't want to impose...” I look to the door with trepidation, as though a boisterous crowd were about to magically appear. I've faced down horrific villains and entire teams of superheroes with nothing but confidence, but the idea of a social gathering is oddly daunting.

  “Don't be stupid, Doc,” he frowns. “You're my friend. It's not a problem.”

  I stare down at him, thinking. We have sought each other’s company for both social and professional purposes, and we've consumed alcoholic beverages together. I have come to respect his opinion and (given that he often asks) I must presume that he also has come to respect my own.

  “You're my friend, too,” I state, vocoder concealing my dawning surprise.

  My concept of friendship is largely born from books: epic fantasies in which traveling companions journey to destroy rings of power, or to defeat evil dragons. Knights sacrificing everything to avenge their brothers in arms. In the stories, villains never seem to have friends deserving of the title. It is pleasant to discover that the literary canon does not accurately portray reality.

  And now, the hard part begins: Being a worthy friend in return.

  ◊◊◊

  **Thank you,** I murmured to Whisper. **That was perfect.**

  **Mm!** she replied, and I could feel the relief in her mental touch.

  **I'll be home soon!** I promised, **Love you, little sister.**

  “What did you do?” Sphinx landed before me, eyes wide. Her costume had been cut in a few places and she'd been bloodied, but she'd certainly weathered the battle better than I had. Warily, I kept my warstaff poised between us, but she seemed not to notice. “Before you destroyed the building, you broke their control. What did you do?!?”

  I considered. There were news cameras upon us, still. If I exited without providing explanation, the public would be left only with the knowledge that a grave alien threat had surfaced and been defeated. Whether or not the world still had something to fear would be a question unanswered. Be loud, my friend's manifesto had suggested; Doctor Fid couldn't belong in the organization that Starnyx had left behind, but I still knew that he would have wanted the truth to be revealed. And besides...I'd been playing this game for almost as long as Valiant.

  I recognized a monologue cue when I heard one, also.

  “Earlier this year,” I began, dismissing my warstaff and making certain that every news-camera drone was receiving crisp audio signal, “Technos invaded my city; during our battle, he used a device that counteracted my flight systems and I fell from the sky. I've since eliminated the flaw that his device relied upon, of course, but I was curious about his technology. I took it and improved upon it.

  “The Legion is an interstellar empire, an alien totalitarian regime enforced by their telepathic spies and mind-controlling officers!” I continued and waved expressively at the burning Mercer-Tallon building. “I studied them and used a much superior version of Technos' device to disrupt their psionic abilities. Legion telepathy is no longer a threat anywhere on Earth!”

  I didn't mention the other pieces of the puzzle; the Westler-Gray reactors, the alien refugees' records and sensors, the Tromso ionosphere researchers whose work had been pivotal to reflecting the field such that it covered the entire surface of the planet. Bits and pieces from so many separate sources, come together to create something extraordinary.

  “You idiot! You've killed us all!” Sphinx's voice trembled.

  “You seem very sure of that,” I mocked, trusting in the natural melodramatic instinct of the sort of person who put on a cape to fight crime. She would hang herself with her own words if I supplied sufficient rope.

  “I know the way they make decisions!” she spat. “I was prepared to die in battle, but they were going to conquer the Earth! As soon as they knew for sure that they could control Valiant, it was inevitable. They'd be slaves, but humanity would have survived!”

  “So that was your plan? To make certain that the Legion invaders took mental control of Valiant at the right moment to make sure that they shackled the Earth instead of destroying it?” The question could not have been timed better had I been writing a script; behind Sphinx, unnoticed, Valiant had woken up and was shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs. His expression slowly shifted to one of undisguised horror.

  “Yes.” Sphinx had the nerve to sound regretful. “But when they find out what you've done, the Legion will just destroy the planet.”

  And Valiant flew away, fled so quickly that he may as well have teleported. I was unsurprised; involuntary servitude had always been a hot-button issue for the hero. Hearing that a supposed ally had orchestrated not only his own capture, but that his downfall was expected to be the trigger for an entire planet to suffer a similar fate...he needed time, I was sure, to digest the information.

  Some watched Valiant's flight, but the attention of the majority was still upon me, waiting for a response to Sphinx's accusation.

  “They won't,” I said simply.

  “I don't care what technological wizardry you think you can pull out of your metal ass, you can't fight the Legion armada!” Sphinx grit her teeth to fight back a sob. “You have no idea how much force they can bring to bear.”

  “I won't need to fight the armada, because the armada won't be coming,” I laughed coldly. “They'll have enough difficulties dealing with problems at home.”

  “How...?”

  “I was able to recreate the teleporter accident that sent you to Legion space, and I sent along similar devices to the one that now protects the Earth.” Even with the vocoder's attempt to remove emotion, Doctor Fid's intimidating voice oozed smugness. “As I said: The Legion's control is enforced by their telepaths. And telepathy just instantaneously stopped working on the planets that are most tactically, logistically and politically important in all of their empire. From what I understand, many of those planets house thriving guerrilla resistance movements just waiting for such an opportunity to arise.

  “The Legion,” I finished, “will tear itself apart long before their warships leave their region of the galaxy.”

  How many years had Sphinx spent locked within a prison of her expectations and fears? How much of her soul had she sliced away, rationalizing her crimes by opposing a threat now eliminated? She'd girded herself for an eternal night, but now the sun had risen and she was lost.

  The Sphinx slumped, defeated utterly, and I laughed 'til my throat hurt from the effort.

  All my humor evaporated. “I have one more question for you.”

  She didn't respond, but she did raise her eyes to gaze tiredly upon Doctor Fid's faceless mask.

  “Before the Staten Island explosion, the FTW was investigating why a colony-ship full of refugees from Legion space crashed on Earth. Desperate, innocent civilians who'd risked everything for a chance to find safety and freedom.”

  “It was necessa—” Sphinx started to interrupt, but I cut her off.

  “I'm not asking if you caused the crash! I know you did. You and Peregrine. Nine hundred and thirty-one dead!” My voice had begun to rise in volume and I took a slow breath before proceeding. It was just as well; the gravity of the crime took
time to grasp. Slowly, I could see comprehension dawn on the faces of the still-mobile heroes that had gathered around us. “Not one of them was Earth's enemy; they were doctors and engineers, artists and philosophers. Parents. Children!”

  “The Legion fleet would have detected their landing engines,” Sphinx defended weakly. “The attack would have come years earlier. The crash gave us time...”

  “Again, I'm not asking if you and Peregrine killed nine hundred and thirty-one innocents. I'm not asking why you and Peregrine killed nine hundred and thirty-one innocents. My question is only this: When you found out that the FTW was investigating, did you leak that information to the Legion?”

  “Yes!” she glared up at me defiantly. “It was the right choice!”

  “When Jerry Stross caused the explosion that beheaded the FTW, he was under the control of an alien telepath,” I snarled, my hands clenched to fists and glowing crimson with summoned power. “The Legion killed my friend Starnyx, so I just killed the Legion. What fate do you think you've earned?”

  “Do it, then,” she chuckled darkly. “I was expecting to die today, anyway.”

  I could do it. The Mk 35 was damaged, but I still had sufficient power for this. I could raise my hand and issue judgment, exult in the sound of her dying screams! This could all be over, for the both of us. A glorious, violent end to all the lies and death...But the assembled champions were shifting uneasily. Theatrics, the heroes would stand for; a summary execution, not so much. No matter how justified my revenge, there would be another battle.

  My calculations did not suggest good odds for my escape.

  There was a time when I would have taken my vengeance and been glad of it, laughing madly as my enemies swarmed. But that wasn't what Starnyx would have wanted. It wasn't what the Red Ghost would have wanted.

  And it wasn't what Whisper needed. I'd made a promise.

  “No,” I hissed, letting the energy gathered in my gauntlets dissipate. “Death is too quick and too final. Live with your guilt! If there's even a shred of humanity left behind your mask, you'll accept justice when it comes for you...But justice isn't something that Doctor Fid can grant. I hope that regret eats you alive, Sphinx. Beyond that...I'm done with you.”