by Lee, Tristan
“I can get one from my house, but since Kronos was in the tower and might have seen me I don’t know if that’s necessarily safe,” Dr. Pryce says.
“I’ll go with you,” Sandor says.
“It might not be safe,” Dr. Pryce cautions.
“I have legs, doctor,” Sandor reminds him. “In a scrap I’ll probably have a better chance of surviving than you.”
“What do you need me to do, boss?” Simon asks.
“I need you to go check on Peter,” Sandor says. “If he’s up and kicking, we’re going to need him.”
“This is the part where someone says ‘Invincibles, invincibalize’,” Chris hints.
“Invincibles, invincibalize,” Belle says unenthusiastically.
“If that becomes our catchphrase, I’m off the team,” Lester says firmly.
Arsenal MK. II
September 3rd
Unbeknownst to Dr. Pryce, his house is completely clear of Kronos soldiers. Seven were stationed there, waiting for him, but all of them are dead and their bodies are sitting at the bottom of the Castellar Lake. Dr. Pryce’s “son” has been keeping a secret from his father; Arsenal has constructed a physical body for himself. Arsenal’s body was crafted using the same ultra-strong variation of steel that his father’s androids are made of, and the inner workings of Arsenal’s body are just as advanced, if not more so, than those of Dr. Invictus.
The body is humanoid, standing a little bit over seven feet tall, but it has distinct armor plates for aesthetic effect, rather than emulating a human body directly. His eyes are blue lights and the inside of his fully articulated mouth has the same blue lights. He does not have a nose, but there are two armor plates suspended in antigravity fields under where is ears should be. In combat, the plates slide forward and lock together over his mouth via an extremely strong electromagnet to prevent unwanted objects being shoved in his gizzard, like hand grenades.
Arsenal has also matured a great deal in secret. He has assimilated enough to reach the “age” of seventeen in the month since he had last seen his father. All of this is quite the shock when Dr. Pryce and Sandor enter the house. The first thing they notice is the blood on the walls, which is quite evidently surprising, and then the new android that is Arsenal.
Sandor pulls out his gun and aims it at Arsenal, “On the ground. Don’t make me ask twice,” Sandor warns.
Arsenal opens one hand and the gun is ripped from Sandor’s grip and flies into Arsenal’s palm. The android has electromagnets similar in strength to the ones that lock his faceplate into place, allowing him to magnetize metal objects as he wishes.
“What the hell?” Sandor asks incredulously.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Arsenal says in his smooth, velvety voice. “I know this is yours, I just didn’t want you to shoot me. I’m bulletproof, so it probably wouldn’t have made a difference, but not getting shot is a personal preference of mine.”
“Arsenal?” Dr. Pryce asks.
“Erm, this is awkward, but yes,” Arsenal says. “Hi, Dad.”
“What happened? What did you do? Why is there so much blood everywhere?” Dr. Pryce asks.
“So, well, this is also awkward, but I sort of killed seven people,” Arsenal says sheepishly. “I’ll clean the walls, I swear.”
“Who did you kill?” Sandor asks.
“My scans reveal that they were Kronos personnel,” Arsenal explains. “They had orders to wait inside this house and kill you, Dad, but they did not account for me.”
“When did you build your body?” Dr. Pryce asks.
“It is half past twelve, so four hours ago,” Arsenal says proudly.
“You built yourself a body four hours ago and you took down seven armed men?” Sandor asks.
“I’m bulletproof, as I said earlier. I can also project high-impact lasers through my fingertips, I have superstrength, flight, and I know kung-fu, jujitsu, karate, tae kwon do, krav maga, and everything the U.S. government uses to train their Special Forces,” Arsenal says. “Really, it was more difficult waiting for the YouTube tutorials to load than taking down the Kronos men.”
“Well, I need an android and maybe a drink,” Dr. Pryce says. He activates his cerebral transfer matrix and appears to black out again, but then another, identical Dr. Invictus model emerges from around the hall.
“I’m leaving Dr. Pryce here, so take care of him,” Dr. Invictus tells Arsenal.
“Sure thing, Dad,” Arsenal says. “Anything else?”
“Clean up the blood,” Dr. Invictus says. “And when I get home, you and I are going to have a little talk.”
“I’m grounded, aren’t I?” Arsenal asks.
“You bet.”
“Wait, I’ve heard about the Aotiuer,” Arsenal says excitedly. “I could help you guys! The Invincibles, I mean. We could all go after them together!”
“We’ll talk when I get back,” Dr. Invictus says sternly. “That’s final.”
“Fine,” Arsenal says. “Have fun. Oh, this is yours, Mr. Burns.”
The gun floats through the air until it tucks itself back into the holster at Sandor’s waist. Sandor looks up, confused.
“How did you know my name?” Sandor asks. “I never introduced myself.”
“Sandor, Burns, fifty-six years of age. Married to Sabrina Hawkes, now Sabrina Burns. Two children, Wayne Burns and Maya Burns. Wayne is a Navy SEAL and Maya is an intern at Zero Corp,” Arsenal says, his eyes and interior of his mouth turning yellow. “You’ve named your son after Wayne Rivers, who was Hitman, and your daughter after Maya St. Clair, who was Archangel. You’ve named both of your children after superhumans who were killed by S.A.B.R.E. assassins during the time of the S.C.A. Puzzling, that you’ve named your children after people that are dead, but it probably stems from the guilt you feel about standing by and doing nothing as thousands of innocent people were slaughtered for no crime other than being born.”
His eyes revert back to blue, “I am connected to every single major database on the planet. I know lots about you, Sandor Kevin Burns. I even know who your father is, even though you think that you never met him.”
Sandor turns to Dr. Invictus, “Your kid is a freak,” he says before storming out of the house.
“Is it something I said?” Arsenal asks.
“We’ll talk when I get back,” Dr. Invictus repeats.
The Mechanical Man turns around and follows Sandor out to the car, leaving Arsenal wondering what he had done so wrong.
The Falcon
September 3rd
“We probably should have thought this through first,” Belle says, looking at the small army of Kronos soldiers who have taken up position in and around Invincibles Tower. In addition to the roughly eighty men patrolling the outside of the tower, there are unmanned tank drones providing extra firepower.
“And we probably should have brought our suits,” Chris says. Both of them are still in their civilian clothes, better for undercover missions, the type of mission they thought that they would be undertaking.
“Even if we did bring them, it’s really hard to change inside a Mustang,” Belle counters.
The Mustang in question is Chris’s prized 1969 Fastback Mustang, one that he spent the better part of their seven-year relationship restoring from the rusty husk of a car he bought in a scrapyard for a hundred bucks into a relatively-drivable car that only occasionally requires someone to kick a specified spot by the gas pedal to get it to start. Chris has repainted it black, but the color of the interior is a shade of red that can only be described as a “bad case of pinkeye”. Belle hates it because it has an obnoxiously loud engine and because having it in their driveway messes up the theme she wants for their front yard. The garage is, unfortunately, not an option because their old van, which they fondly nicknamed as the “rape van”, is inside. That car would ruin her vision of her front yard even further. She has made countless attempts to sell the car without Chris finding out, but her efforts have so far been fruitless.
> “So do we just walk up to them and punch them?” Chris asks.
“You can’t drive us up? We’re parked like, two blocks away,” Belle complains.
“If I drive up, they’re going to hear us. Plus, what if someone scratches my car?”
“You’re going to make me walk because you don’t want your car to get scratched?”
“Remember when you made me carry you sixteen miles in the rain because you didn’t want to get mud on your shoes?” Chris reminds her.
“They were white,” Belle says defensively. “But good point. Let’s go.”
The duo exit the car and walk to the tower. Before they can get too close to the tower, a Kronos soldier stops them.
“Restricted area, folks,” the soldier says. “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Chris’s hands fold into fists, but Belle touches his hand gently and he relaxes.
“Sorry if we’re intruding,” Belle says. “We’re just sort of confused. My husband and I work here, you see. And before we left on our vacation, well, it wasn’t militarized.”
“This area is restricted,” the soldier repeats firmly, folding his arms across his chest. “If you don’t vacate the area immediately, I’m going to have to report you to my commanding officers.”
“And who are your commanding officers?” Chris asks.
“Them,” the Kronos soldiers says, pointing to two very familiar-looking siblings.
The Rykovs approach Belle and Chris. Instead of wearing the street clothes they were wearing before, now the superhumans are wearing black and crimson Kronos fatigues.
“Aw, frick-frack-frackity-whack,” Belle mutters.
“I was wearing my helmet; they won’t recognize me,” Chris says.
“No, but they’re sure as frackity-whack going to recognize me,” Belle hisses. “We can’t let them get too close.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know . . . do something threatening.”
Chris proceeds to punch the soldier who stopped them in the chest, sending him flying a hundred yards backwards into a sandbag barricade.
“You dummy!” Belle screams as she throws up a shield to block the gunfire that the Kronos soldiers let loose. “I said threatening! I didn’t say to hit people!”
“I didn’t know!” Chris yells back defensively. The bullets do not bounce off his skin like one would expect them to; his skin is so strong that the lead slugs flatten themselves upon impact. This durability negates his need to take cover like Belle.
“Hold your fire!” Natalia Rykov orders. The moment the words leave her mouth, all the gunfire stops and the Kronos soldiers immediately adjust their posture to stand at attention.
“So we meet again, Demoness,” Dmitri says. “I assume that your rather sturdy friend here is Titan.”
“Shit, they figured it out,” Chris says.
“Stay cool,” Belle orders.
“We’re glad that you two are here,” Natalia says. “There is someone who would like to meet you inside the tower.”
“That sounds a lot like you don’t want a firefight in the middle of the street and you’d prefer to try and kill us inside,” Belle says skeptically.
“You’ve already proved very difficult to kill,” Dmitri says. “On my honor as a Rykov, I promise that you will only find peace inside the tower.”
Chris looks to Belle questioningly, “We’ll come,” Belle says with a shrug. “It’ll just be a change in scenery of where we’re going to beat you up.”
“Excellent,” Natalia says. “This way, please.”
Belle and Chris are taken to the penthouse at the top of the tower. Upon entering the penthouse, Natalia and Dmitri stand guard at the elevator. Sitting on one of the couches that Belle and Chris have learned are so comfortable and sipping from a glass of wine is a pale, black-haired man of about forty years of age wearing all black, including a black trench coat, and a handgun lying on the seat next to him. He stands to greet them, revealing that he is of average height and build for a man his age. Chris notes that he leaves the gun behind, meaning that he does not feel threatened by them.
“Demoness and Titan! Welcome!” the man exclaims. “I am Esel Schiesse.”
“The Mad Doctor,” Belle says.
Esel Schiesse’s lip curls distastefully upon hearing his sobriquet, but he regains his friendly aura quickly, “A rather rude name, I find.”
“Well, I mean, you did perform illegal and unethical experiments on like, ten thousand people,” Chris points out.
“Details, details,” Esel says dismissively, waving his hand as if he were brushing away the small fact that he had tortured and killed thousands. “I’m here to talk business.”
“Then talk,” Belle says. “And if you’re wasting our time . . . “
“I would like to offer you two an olive branch,” Esel says. “You can take your Falcon and my men will end their occupation of this tower. In addition, you and your Invincibles will be bolstered by the full might of Kronos, should you ever need it.”
“What’s the catch?” Chris asks.
Esel smiles, “You two would join Kronos as my foremost enforcers. You would still be able to perform your duties as an Invincible, of course, but I might task you with some high-value mission every once in a while.”
“No,” Belle says.
“Wait, how much would you be paying us?” Chris asks.
“Are you seriously considering this?” Belle asks.
“If we’re getting a king’s ransom every month, hell yeah,” Chris says.
“You won’t be paid with money,” Esel clarifies. “Your salaries will be the continued friendship between Kronos and S.A.B.R.E.”
“So it’s not like a steady paycheck?” Chris asks.
“Correct,” Esel says.
“In that case, no,” Chris says. “I’m not going to take the load on my consciousness of working for a supervillain if I don’t get a damn big paycheck.”
Esel’s lip curls again distastefully, “Then I’m afraid that we have reached an impasse. I cannot give you this tower or your Falcon without our alliance.”
“Well in that case,” Belle says. “We’re just going to have to take it.”
She snaps her fingers and the table flies forward, smashing into Esel’s back. Dmitri turns into metal and leaps at Belle, but Chris intercepts him with a punch to his jaw. Dmitri falls, the force of the blow turning his metal skin back into flesh and blood. Chris shakes out his hand; the impact with Dmitri’s jaw made his hand sore. Natalia waves her fingers and a purple, crystalline spike forms, poised to impale Belle. Chris grabs Dmitri while he’s disoriented and holds him with one arm wrapped around his neck and the opposite hand gripping the top of Dmitri’s head, ready to snap his neck.
Natalia is about to let spike drop when Dmitri starts spluttering, “No,” he chokes. “I’m ready.”
“You know that if you drop that spike, your brother is dead,” Chris says as calmly as he can. “And once he’s dead, the next body to hit the floor is going to be yours.”
Natalia hesitates and Belle flexes her hand, preparing to seize her opportunity.
“How much do you believe in Kronos’s vision?” Chris asks. “Are you willing to die for it? Because that woman you are about to stab is my whole life. And I’m willing to go right here, right now.”
Dmitri starts to turn purple as Chris begins to lose patience and starts constricting his windpipe. He tries to say something, but the need for oxygen overrides whatever he was about to say and he starts to splutter, saliva flying everywhere. Natalia lets the spike disappear, so Belle presses her opening and thrusts her hand forward, hitting Natalia with a bolt of red light. Chris turns Dmitri around and before the Rykov can even gasp for air, the Prince of Xor slams his forehead into Dmitri’s nose; shattering it and leaving him unconscious.
Belle clears the distance between herself and her partner in less than a second and throws herself into his arm
s. He holds her close to him as she cries into his chest.
“Shhh,” Chris says gently. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”
She cannot say anything other than to sob.
“Hush little Belle-y, don’t you cry,” Chris sings. “Titan’s gonna sing you a lullaby.”
Belle lets out a high-pitched, strangled laugh.
“That’s it, calm down,” Chris encourages. “Why don’t we grab Esel and take him to the Falcon, okay? Then we can fly back to the bar and make everyone feel like chumps.”
“Okay,” Belle says, wiping her tears away.
A few moments later, they have Esel locked into one of the seats and are facing the sudden realization that neither of them are aware how to fly the Falcon. Belle is sitting in the left seat and Chris is sitting in the right, but neither of them know which seat is the pilot seat and which one is the copilot seat. In addition, the only controls that they understand how to work are the yoke and the joysticks that control the 60mm cannon and the Vulcan machine guns, since those ones are clearly labeled.
“So, how do we fly this thing?” Belle asks.
“No clue,” Chris says, fiddling with one of the dials. “I wish there was an instruction manual.”
“Don’t play with that, dummy,” Belle scolds. “What if you activate self-destruct or something?”
“I’m sure that these things would mark the self-destruct button more clearly,” Chris says matter-of-factly. “What does this one do?”
Chris cranks a dial and the Falcon starts up; he looks to Belle with a smug smile on his face, so Belle rolls her eyes at him.
“Luck,” she snorts.
“Whatever you say,” Chris says, pulling up on the yoke. The Falcon rises shakily as Chris increases elevation until they are clear of even the tallest skyscrapers.
“Cool beans,” Belle says. “Now where do we take this thing?”
“Lester’s place, I guess,” Chris says with a shrug. “I’m ninety-five percent sure I know how to get there.”