by Brian Cody
“Whoa!” David exclaimed as he spun and slapped Nate’s knee, the superhuman swat proving powerful enough to send a light sting through Nate’s armor. “Klinge, watch your language!” David exclaimed. “That’s your only freebie for the day!”
“Huh!?” Nate wailed as he flailed his arms. David looked away from him, deactivated his vehicle, opened his door, and jumped out of the driver’s side. The cacophony of the hundreds of vehicles moving from Lynchburg blasted in his ears as he jogged to the front of the SUV and stood with the city in view. As he watched, and as the others followed, another plume of smoke ascended.
“What’s going on!?” Shawn asked, while David grasped the sides of his head and stepped back.
“I don’t know”, David replied, while Erik stepped across from him and reached into his pocket.
Erik then yanked out his phone, turned to David, and answered, “Lamback, what’s going on!?”
“Erik!” Lamback replied, “Lynchburg’s under attack. City hall was just levelled by sustained fire from what my superiors are calling ‘an aircraft of foreign origin’.”
“An aircraft?” Erik repeated as he looked to David and scanned the group. “What if it has something to do with us?” he asked as he turned towards the city, “Remember what I told you—about the missile?”
“Yeah, I remember. I reported it, and the Air National Guard was told to search for any anomalies on radar. Whatever is attacking wasn’t picked up in or around the Virginia airspace until an hour ago. Erik, listen to me: the National Guard is being called in, and I’ve received orders for you to pull back; if your actions had something to do with this attack, it’d be best for you to stay away from the area until the attacker is captured or destroyed. Turn back and head to Roanoke.”
“Wait”, Erik replied, his left leg tapping, “wait, what!?”
“What is it?” David asked as he stepped towards Erik.
“They want us to pull back to Roanoke”, Erik replied.
“Uh, no; what if they need our help!?” David exclaimed. Erik stepped back, activated the speakerphone option, and pushed his phone towards David.
“Lamback, what if they need our help!?” David yelled.
“You’d need clearance, which, trust me, you wouldn’t get”, Lamback replied. “If this is an international incident on the scale of war-starting, your involvement could make things worse. Your inclusion in the assault of an extra-national armed force would break a dozen agreed-upon treaties, and result in the worst-case scenario. Imagine this: instead of nuclear exchanges, you guys, and every other gifted over the age of sixteen in every other involved country would be sent to the frontlines.”
“Lamback, forget the hypothetical_”
“It would be illegal for you to act! At the very least, you’re saddled with unimaginable damage costs that your great-great-grandchildren will go bankrupt in trying to pay; at the most, you’re charged with treason and inciting an international conflict, both of which end in execution. This isn’t your fight!”
David stepped back and locked eyes with Erik. Erik, in response, nodded. “Lamback!” David called, “get that clearance!” Erik ended the call, and David started for his Escape.
“What’s the plan?” Turrisi asked as he slid into the back seat with Erik in front of him, Shawn and Nate next to him, and Bryen jumping into the trunk and over the helmets behind him.
“We get as close to the city as possible, park, and rush to meet whatever’s attacking now and whatever attacked us earlier”, David replied as he activated the engine, Nate closed the back door, Erik closed the passenger door, and Bryen dragged the trunk shut. David shifted the SUV into drive, and then slammed his foot into the accelerator.
***
Amidst the symphony of flames, sirens, and toppling structures, the obsidian craft tore through the piceous columns atop the business district’s center, rushing skyward and easterly with its propulsive bellow adding to the orchestra. Breaching into clearer air, it zoomed for two miles, ascending and simultaneously spiraling. It dove; then, aiming southerly, it accelerated, but jolted and then stammered, its chassis yanked to and fro, and its stable flight pulled and pushed and turned into disorder. It chimed—its internal mechanisms bellowing and screeching as it sought the loss of its stability, scanning over its engines, then the exterior air pressure, its whole fuselage, then its wings, its right wing, and the human shape clasping the tip of that wing.
As it pinpointed David, David, with his arms enwrapped around the plates, held his breath and heaved down, dragging the jet, by its wing, groundward. The jet turned against him, but David reared back, angling the wing so that it caught the wind, but failing to dissever the flexible strait. The jet angled its right wing downward and rolled into a dive, and David, whipped by the centrifugal turns, loosened his grip. The machine straightened, and David tightened his hands; the machine ascended, and David jerked leftward, throwing the jet into a spiral. The jet turned after him, accelerating and spiraling out of its turn, but David, humphing, jerked it groundward.
Suck on that! howled in David’s mind as the craft plunged. The jet, turning and then angling its tail, corrected its plummet, then with David still holding, ascended into level flight. Okay, then I’ll_—David seized at a pyretic cough and looked to the projectile loosed from the jet’s underside and flung into accelerative motion. A distraction? David looked groundward for the nearest targets, but, at a whistling spin, he looked back, and, as the rocket sped for the jet, and then for the wing, he reared back.
“Wait!” David yelped. He tensed and blinked, and the rocket impacted and erupted, engulfing the right wing in a deflagrant flash; yet, as the fireball dissipated, the craft continued unscathed. With his suit scuffed and darkened by flames, David opened his eyes and found himself sliding past the wing. Just before falling beyond the spiked rear, David inhaled and, with a rising swipe, he slammed his fingers into another plate.
He pushed, curving the wing leftward and yawing the machine. He pulled back, pushed down, and jerked his legs to push outward and away; and the aircraft plummeted past three thousand feet. With a fiery cough, the jet raised its captured wing and swerved groundward. Not gonna let you…! David pulled his legs in for one more push-off, but a tone filled his ears. He turned to the center of the aircraft, and the tone—once a vague utterance—strengthened to bone-rattling zooms. Rising, falling, and rising, the zooms continued with greater speed and higher volume. Another weapon; need to end this!
He turned as the beats levelled out, and he tightened as a wave of azure light pulsed from the fuselage, sped over the right wing, and accelerated towards him. As David unlocked his hands, a surge of azure bolts blazed through his frame and flashed across the morning cobalt. His grip was loosed a second after the crackling strike, and while wailing, he was thrown. He fell. With suit scorched and form intact, he spiraled. Unconscious, he perceived neither the ground nor the drawing obscurities which rose from it. He slammed. Beaming through one skyscraper, he plunged from the opposite end, and pounded through a second before plunging three hundred feet. He impacted. Cratering several yards of asphalt, he bounced once and, landing along his indent, came to a halt.
Outstretched, twitching, and wheezing, David lay as the jet’s silhouette jolted overhead. He coughed, neither awakening nor stirring, while the obsidian jet spiraled over the end of that roadway, darted for him, and let fly. Unloosed, two rockets spiraled and then flared into activation, speeding ahead of the jet and plunging for David, while a louder roar sounded to his right. Diving between structures, Erik spun onto that road, turned, and pitched a duet of fireballs that intercepted and detonated the projectiles. Then, as the conflagrations burgeoned for him and an outstretched David, Nate crashed to the ground in a column of lightning, outspread his arms, and fired a shielding array that deflected the flames. The explosion ceased, and Nate, turning, followed the jet as it spiraled out of view.
“How is he!?” Erik called as he landed behind and jogged to David.
“Not sure”, Nate replied as he darted for the nearest building. With an electric surge around his feet, Nate lunged onto that structure’s side, and, with the bottoms of his soles magnetized, he bolted up its face, lunging and hopping past thirteen stories before bounding from its ledge and landing on its roof. Nate turned as another object appeared in the corner of his gaze, but looked ahead as Shawn landed beside him. Side by side, the two scoured the pillars of smoke against the dim sky’s backdrop, the obsidian jet’s howl ever present, but the darkened craft obscured within the caliginous sky. It curved into view, miles to their left, then turned behind a cloud of smoke, appeared once more, miles to their right, spiraling, then ascended into another pillar, but was ever accelerating and, in those moments, inching back towards them.
“Where’s your helmet?”—atop that building, those words from the street were muddled by distance and set aside as the two maintained their search.
“I have goggles”, Erik spoke, with David’s body in his arms, as he looked to Bryen jogging from an alleyway. “Where’s your helmet?”
“I didn’t need it; it obscures my vision”, Bryen replied as he looked to David and winced. “Is he alive?”
“Just unconscious”, Erik replied as he lowered David onto the sidewalk. “Going by the crater, his fall was pretty hard, and something happened to knock him out before then, like a small explosion or something. It’ll be a while_”
“Guys!”—Erik and Bryen looked up to Shawn leaning over the ledge and looking down to them. “How’s Piekarsky?”
“Unconscious”, Erik replied. “He might need a few… Where’s your helmet?”
“I have a facemask”, Shawn yelled back.
“Okay, time out”, Erik called as he raised his hands.
“I didn’t know warzones had timeouts”, Bryen noted.
“Not only are we breaking international law, but if anyone sees us_”
“All right”, Nate snarled as he spun and flung his arms. “The helmets are one of the frickin’ sacraments, but they make us look like tools! I have a hood, Shawn has a facemask, and B-money wears glasses! We need Piekarsky in about a minute!”
“You’re not Catholic”, Bryen noted.
“Nate, you need to chill!” Erik bellowed with a point.
“We’re in a f***ing warzone fighting a jet that just knocked out Piekarsky with ease!” Nate roared.
“Then use your oh-so-mighty powers to take care of the jet, and we’ll look after Piekarsky!” Erik retorted. “It is too early, and I am still hungry!”
“I don’t control your metabolism, guy!” Nate proclaimed.
“Guys, guys!” Shawn howled. “All right; we didn’t sign up for this team, but we volunteered for this fight. Nate and I will take care of the jet; you two just wake up Dave. We’ll talk helmets after.”
“Yep”, Nate humphed.
“Cool”, Erik murmured.
“How are we waking him up?” Bryen asked, while Nate and Shawn turned.
“Easy”, Erik grunted while cracking his fists. “Dave, time to wake up; our pick-up game is in five!” Erik outstretched his arms to David, but David lay still. Erik looked to Bryen. “Dave!” Erik howled. “Clare called and said it’s urgent! She might need your help!” Erik grabbed and jostled David’s shoulders, but David lay still. “That’s all I got.”
“Yeah, I got it”, Bryen murmured. He jogged into the road, looked down both ends, and inhaled. “Aaron Rodgers just ran by in uniform!” Bryen bellowed. As the words ‘in uniform’ were spoken, David opened his eyes. Gasping, he shot to his feet, darted into the roadway, but then collapsed once more. Bryen, his head angled askew, looked back to Erik. “This is bad”, Bryen spoke as David lay still.
“All right, is he ready?” Shawn called.
“Nope; we’re on our own”, Erik called back.
“We’re sitting ducks!” Nate called as he scoured the skies, the jet then absent.
“All right; new plan: I’ll move Piekarsky”, Erik replied.
“And then?” Nate asked as he raised his arms.
“Try to wake him up.”
“Whomever is elected leader, can we all agree that it shouldn’t be Erik?” Nate asked.
“I’ll only agree if it’s also not you”, Erik replied as he grabbed David.
“I’m down with that”, Shawn answered.
“Yeah, that works”, Bryen averred. “Do you guys want to hide or are you about to attack or something?”
“Why would we be about to attack?” Shawn asked as he and Nate looked back.
“Because it sounds like it’s diving right for you”, Bryen replied.
“What?!”
Nate and Shawn looked ahead and then upward as the jet spiraled from behind a cloud, and, while both diving and maintaining that spiral, aimed its two guns and let fly. As Shawn recoiled, Nate bounded. Outstretching his arms, then crossing them, then holding his breath, Nate gaped his eyes, the initial flashes of loosed rounds appearing before him and tearing across the sky as blurs to even his gaze. The first instant, and the first bullet moved a yard from the jet, the next, and one hundred yards, the following and half a mile, and, in the succeeding, one hundred yards from the rooftop. Nate tensed.
An electric surge poured from his arms, coiled around him and Shawn, and deflected the automatic cannonade. Though his shield held firm, Nate held his breath, the constant patter jolting his sides and jostling his frame. How much ammo does it have? How much can I take? “Shawn!”
“On it!” Shawn outspread his arms, and a surge of documents blazed from his sleeves, condensed, and shaped into two six-foot javelins. He lunged as the javelins zoomed into his grip. Rising above Nate’s shield, he wound back as the jet motioned its rightward gun for him and he pitched both with whistling thrusts, the items bulleting across the closing gap, curving into the jet’s turn, and plunging into two of its leftward engines. As flames erupted from the intakes, Shawn plunged, and, as the jet stuttered, he landed; yet, as he reared up, the flames ended and the craft maintained its spirality. “That should’ve caused a burnout!”
“On it”, Nate groaned as he maintained his shield with his left and pitched an electric surge from his right. Encapsulating the jet in a fulgurant web, Nate tightened his hand into a fist and heaved down, but the craft was steadfast in its flight. “That’s definitely made of metal!” Nate howled as he ceased his blast.
“What’s wrong?” Shawn asked.
“My magnetic field is being counteracted or something—fine, the old fashioned way!” Nate pivoted, fisted his right, and jabbed to loose a more concentrated, beaming surge that slammed into the jet, but, once more, the craft continued its flight, halted its gunfire, and then rolled into a straighter path for their rooftop.
“Nate”, Shawn grunted as he stepped back and the jet accelerated.
“That should’ve_”—Nate seized as the jet launched two rockets.
“Nate, can you block that?” Shawn yelped.
The explosion at the house, Nate thought as he glanced between those two projectiles, subtract five tons of force, then double the remainder… “Not worth trying, go!” He and Shawn turned and bounded for the rooftop’s ledge as the rockets slammed into the far end and pulverized it in a wave of flames. Both turned back as they plunged, feeling the drawing heat and pinpointing the cascade of brisance welled before them. Both shielded, a formation of papers and electricity forming around them, and the deluge, for an instant, was halted, but forged on, rending their formations and swatting them.
Stunned, they fell beside the building, a hail of debris pouring after them; yet, a moment into their falls, a shadowy tendril coiled around Nate’s torso and Shawn’s leg, and Bryen, standing along that structure, retracted that blackened line to the interior of his coat, reeling them in and grabbing them by their sides. He ran. As charred stone and pummeled metal fell above him, he sprinted perpendicularly to that structure, then skated along his shadow, then, reaching its edge, bowed. Below him,
his shadow ramped, pitching him from that building and towards the road. As he kicked his legs, his silhouette along the ground welled and expended into a gaseous bed. He landed, bouncing along that matter and decelerating away from the debris, and, as he released Shawn and Nate, he looked up to the jet zooming past.
Shawn and Nate, as they hit the ground, lunged to their feet and scoured their frames, but, finding their forms only scuffed, gasped and stumbled to their knees.
“Why didn’t you short it?” Bryen asked, the roar of the jet’s engines continued out of view.
“I tried; I hit it with enough electricity to short half of downtown Lynchburg…it just wouldn’t short”, Nate replied.
“Where’s Piekarsky; where’s Erik?” Shawn asked as he scanned that field of debris.
“Erik’s trying to get Piekarsky to wake up; he said he had a plan for Nate, though”, Bryen replied as he leaned and placed his hands over his left ear. “Also, it’s coming back”, he stated.
“What!?” Nate barked. “Why us?”
“Wait”, Shawn called as he stepped back and lifted his mask. “B-money, where’s Turrisi?”
“Turrisi’s right over…” Bryen looked back and then raised his hand. Well… I’ll call him or something, but you guys have to cover me!” Bryen yanked out his phone, while Shawn and Nate scanned the atmosphere. “Turrisi!” Bryen yelped.
“B-money, lead it south!”
“I’m sorry, I misheard”, Bryen huffed as he reared back up, “it almost sounded like_”
“Head’s up!” Shawn roared as he stumbled and pointed to the opposite side of the road. Bryen spun and lowered his phone, tracing the angle of Shawn’s point, following it for three hundred yards, and to the obsidian jet angling towards them on the far end of that street.