Corpies (Super Powereds Spinoff Book 1)

by Drew Hayes

  Now that they had a chance to react, Galvanize and Bubble Bubble both dug their heels in, pulling with all they had, using their whole bodies as wedges. The match would ultimately depend on Big Henry, but, unlike when Titan was at their backs, they knew every little bit they could add would make a difference. In seconds, both were sweating from the effort of staving off a team of strongmen, Bubble Bubble’s makeup smearing around her eyes as she gritted her teeth and continued to pull.

  “Well now, look at this. Seems like the team of PEERS is able to hold their own even without their Hero Liaison. But how long can they keep it up?” Jade stood near the center line, the point which would mark the failure for one of the teams. It seemed she was going to be there at the exact moment this match was decided, and from the way the crowd seemed to be leaning in, they no doubt wished they had her vantage point as well.

  Every member of the Mordent Holdings team was visibly shaking with effort. Even Hexcellent, standing on the sidelines, had her eyes narrowed and fists clenched as she willed Big Henry to pull with every ounce of power he could muster. By contrast, the other team seemed to be giving it quite a bit of effort, but they weren’t exhausting themselves. Owen couldn’t blame them; why would they? From the outset, it was clear that all the PEERS were doing was buying time, going down with a fight. At their very best, giving all they had, the most they could manage was to hold the rope steady. No, the other team would wait until the PEERS tired themselves out then drag Galvanize across the line for a simple victory, preserving energy for their next match. It was the smart move, tactically.

  Of course, there were always more than one set of tactics at play in any engagement.

  The first cheers came less than a minute after the match had started. It was a mishmash of syllables as people tried to yell the names Galvanize, Hexcellent, and Bubble Bubble on top of each other all at once. Eventually, someone hit upon the idea of just chanting “PEERS,” and in seconds it had caught on like wildfire. Soon, whole sections of the crowd were cheering for the straining, sweating figures that were barely holding on. They hadn’t exactly won over everyone, but it was a far cry from what had happened when Titan was on the rope.

  Owen smiled to himself as he watched uncertainty ripple through the players of the Cincinnati Cyborgs that were holding the opposite end of the rope. It was a hard and fast rule every Hero learned in their first years on the job: people always liked to cheer for an underdog. It was what they identified with, what movies and television had taught them to believe in. David was always more fun to root for than Goliath, which was precisely why Titan had made such a boring competitor to watch.

  True as that was, though, underdogs were underdogs for a reason, and life didn’t often echo the fable-like stories of triumph people adored. Slowly but surely the stalemate ended and Owen’s team began to move forward. Bubble Bubble pushed her orbs along with them, allowing them to keep their footholds as they were dragged, but even that wasn’t enough to turn the tides. Their opponents were stronger: always had been. But they’d put up a good fight, and Owen was proud of them now that it was over.

  Except. . . it wasn’t over. They were still being dragged, there was no doubt about that, but not a one of them seemed to have accepted their fate. Galvanize leaned back, straining with every fiber of muscle contained in his body. Bubble Bubble was pulling so hard that her pale, freckled face had gone completely flushed. Sweaty red hair was matted to her forehead, the sort of sight she would have never allowed cameras to glimpse before. Even Hexcellent was right next to Big Henry, whispering encouragement in the demon’s ear as it grunted and strained against the combined might of its opponents. They were losing and they knew it, but each one of them was still fighting like they had a chance to turn things around.

  The crowd, fickle though it could be, had taken note of their efforts, and the cheering in the stands reflected it. Everyone knew the eventual outcome, yet the harder Owen’s team fought to deny it, the more those in the stands loved them. Even Owen felt impressed and surprised by the depth of their determination. This was more than he’d expected them to give, to be capable of giving, and if it hadn’t been in bad taste he would have cupped his hands to his mouth and screamed for them right along with the crowd.

  Owen was seconds away from saying to hell with bad taste and cheering anyway when the match finally came to an end. Galvanize, moving his leg backward to adjust his stance, slipped, and was dragged several inches forward, sending his foot across the line. A whistle blew, and the rope fell to the ground.

  “Looks like our winners for this match are the players from the Cincinnati Cyborgs!” Jade announced. Their triumph was greeted with applause, a dimmed sound compared to the yelling that had been taking place only moments prior. Luckily for all involved, Jade wasn’t a novice. She knew the importance of keeping a crowd pumped and exactly how to make sure they stayed that way.

  “And let’s have one more round of applause for their competitors, the team of PEERS-”

  Jade was cut off by the screaming enthusiasm of the crowd. Yes, they still did and always would like Heroes and sports stars better, but for that moment it didn’t matter. In this coliseum, all that mattered was who put on the better show. And in that regard, a demon, energy orbs, and visible effort definitely made for more interesting entertainment.

  “Well, that went exactly as expected,” Hexcellent said. She was the only one of the three who could speak without panting, as Galvanize and Bubble Bubble were both trying to catch their breath. “Greene’s going to be pissed.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Owen replied. “Let’s see how the coverage comes out before we assume we’re in trouble. Worse comes to worse, we’ll tell him I refused to go out and you all did the best you could.”

  “You know he won’t buy that,” Zone said.

  “Probably not, but he already dislikes me, so he’ll happily let me be blamed.” Owen nodded to the field, where Wild Bucks were getting into position for their next match. “Now let’s be good sports and watch the rest of the contest. Some of these are bound to be interesting.”

  98.

  Only four teams were left, Wild Bucks being one of them, but Owen would not be around to see the results. He had his eyes trained on the field when he heard a familiar voice tickle his right ear. He betrayed nothing as it spoke, though his eyes turned across the field to Deadlift, who met his gaze. Owen gave a slight, nearly imperceptible shake of his head, and then turned to face his team.

  “I have to head out for a bit. There’s a situation, I’m tough, you all know the drill.” He kept his tone neutral, almost bored, as if he’d forgotten to pick up milk and was now saddled with making a trip to the store.

  “The duty of a Hero is never done,” Galvanize said, giving Owen a knowing smile. “We’ll be sure to make apologies for you in any post-event interviews.”

  “Ten bucks says he’s faking it just to ditch the press,” Hexcellent ventured.

  Owen said nothing, merely rose from his spot on the bench with his team and jogged off the field. Only when he was safely below the stadium did he speak, and this time it wasn’t to anyone nearby. At least, not so far as he was aware.

  “Dispatch, this is Titan. I’m clear from being overheard. Deadlift and his team are staying at the tug-of-war to keep from panicking the crowd. What’s the situation?”

  “Three companies of robots, all approaching the city from different directions,” Dispatch said, somehow still calm despite the news she was relaying. “One seems to be en route to Brewster’s downtown, one is moving north with destination unknown, and the third. . .” Her voice, always careful and detached, wavered for the barest of moments. “The third is on track to arrive at the charity event within fifteen minutes.”

  “Sweet Jesus, we’ve got a couple thousand people here,” Owen muttered, turning back to look at his team. “Give me their coordinates, I’ll intercept that one.”

  “Negative, those are not your orders,” Dispatch replied.
“You are to group up with Jeremiah, Gale, and Aether to meet the robots heading for downtown. Modus Operandi has begun efforts to track the central signal that controls the robots; getting closer to them will expedite the process. Once the target is located, your team is to move immediately to take out the controller.”

  “I’m not leaving my team or these civilians unprotected.” Owen stood in the bottom floor of the stadium, listening to all of the people moving around above him. There were more outside, a thousand or so individuals with no idea what danger was marching toward them.

  “Nor would anyone ask you to,” Dispatch told him. “We’ve got three other Hero teams already heading to your location, plus Wild Bucks will be on defensive duty after Deadlift leaves to join up with your group. They will easily be in place long before the robots arrive, and I should add that many are better suited to protection and handling multiple enemies than you are.” She wasn’t quite snippy—Dispatch never veered that far off course—but it was clear from her tone that she didn’t appreciate being questioned.

  “That’s. . . fine. I mean, good. Sorry, Dispatch. I’m just worried. Can I at least tell my team to evacuate?”

  “You need to be moving, Titan. Your team is safer there, under the protection of trained Heroes, than they would be navigating the streets. All other communication networks have already gone down, just as expected. Jeremiah believes that we are only seeing their first move of the day. We have no idea where the next one will come from, or what it will be.”

  “Shit.” Owen began moving once more, jogging forward out of the stadium and into the bright afternoon light of the fairgrounds. “Do we even know what they’re after yet?”

  “Currently, there is only speculation,” Dispatch said. “However, as downtown is a location where an attack will draw immediate response, and given the current composition of people in the fairgrounds, Modus Operandi has put forth the theory that they are seeking out situations that have the greatest concentrations of Supers.”

  “More refinement?” Owen jumped to the side to avoid a small crowd as he hurried through an exit gate. In spite of the need to move, he made sure to give them an apologetic wave and reassuring smile. If people panicked or caught wind that things were wrong before the other Heroes were in position, the whole place could fall into chaos. That was why Deadlift had to finish the contest: they needed to keep people from realizing things were headed south.

  “It is possible. The second most likely possibility is that the refinement has been finished, and this is the end-game.”

  “No way. . . someone is trying to purge Brewster? That seems spectacularly ill-advised.” Owen raced down the streets, now officially out of the fairgrounds and able to stop pretending he wasn’t rushing for all he was worth.

  “True, but no logical strategy makes sense with these tactics so far,” Dispatch agreed. “The DVA is calling in as many Heroes as possible to Brewster to assist with the attack. Currently, the orders are to protect the civilians, destroy the robotic troops, and try and discern what their main objective is.”

  “In that order?” Owen asked.

  “For everyone else, yes. Your team is to prioritize location of the controller and its destruction above all else,” Dispatch informed him. “Though, until that location is found, you are to work in the same way as all the other Heroes.”

  “Guess that’s something.” He understood the need for the greater good; no Hero could save everyone, so they had to prioritize saving as many as they could. That said, Owen had never found peace with ignoring people in need. He still did it, because that was how he saved thousands at the cost of dozens, but it still ate at him every time he had to do so. At least he could do his part for a while. Hopefully, by the time they were supposed to split off, things would be under control enough that the other Heroes could handle it.

  Owen sprinted down the street, hurdling intersections with the barest of effort, doing his best to ignore the stares as he leapt over cars and people. All thoughts of discretion went out of his mind as he barreled across the roads. There was no telling how long it would be before the attack started, but every moment of delay had the very real risk of costing someone else their life. He refused to be too late to help.

  No matter what, when the robots arrived, Titan would be there to greet them.

  99.

  Downtown Brewster, while not fully recovered from the most recent battle, was in substantially better shape than Owen had last seen it. Whether it stayed that way for long would depend in equal measures on luck and the costumed men and women who were already gathered in front of him, many transporting civilians out of the area in large groups. Seeing the humans being evacuated eased Owen’s nerves a touch; he’d been in enough metropolitan battles to know that sheltering in place wasn’t always a safe strategy. With the normal people gone, the Heroes would be free to focus on neutralizing the threat, and that would be safer for everyone.

  Most of the other Heroes were familiar to Owen in that he’d seen them in his research, though he couldn’t always pair a name with a costume. Several, however, he was certain didn’t usually work Brewster. It appeared that Dispatch was right: the DVA had decided to swell their ranks. Were he a younger man with a more vulnerable sense of pride, Owen might have felt slighted at the idea that what Brewster had on hand wouldn’t be enough. Instead, he merely thanked whatever divine force was watching over them for the extra help. These robots could be a handful, and the presence of every able body available would mean less death and destruction.

  Spotting his temporary team was easy enough, since Gale was hovering in place ten feet off the ground, eyes closed and hands lifted skyward. While he didn’t know exactly what she was doing, Owen could still read the mood well enough to approach slowly, lest he disturb something important. Aether and Jeremiah both turned as he approached, the latter holding up a finger to his lips, then whispering, “She’s trying to get a sense of where they’re coming from.”

  “How?” Owen’s tone matched Jeremiah’s, as soft as he could make it while still being heard.

  “Feeling the air currents, seeing if they hit unnatural obstacles,” Jeremiah explained. “Can’t do it for people, but a giant herd of robots would be distinctive.”

  “You both know I can hear you and that I don’t actually need silence, right?” Gale opened one eye and glared down at them before turning her face skyward once more.

  “Huh, you don’t? I sort of just assumed.” Jeremiah shrugged and went back to a normal voice, forgoing the gentle whispers. “Anyway, Dispatch has been tracking the robots’ general movement, but there are limits to how much detail she can get us. Once Gale determines exactly where the attack is coming from, we smash up the first wave since the damn things always come in multiple waves, but try to keep at least one functional. My people are doing their best to track the signal, but so far they’re not having any luck, which means our best shot is to tap into one that’s still active.”

  From his pocket, Jeremiah produced a device that looked roughly like a ballpoint pen someone had covered in glue and rolled in electronic debris. “Assuming I can figure out which part of the robot is the receiver and jam this in, we’ll have our location in less than a minute.”

  “Can’t you just sift through the wreckage of one?” Aether asked. “These things don’t go down easy and keep fighting as long as they’ve got limbs and power.”

  “Wouldn’t do me any good. As soon as the robot is down it deactivates itself, burning out its receiver,” Jeremiah said. “We’ve gone through the remains of nearly a hundred and it’s the same every time, nothing but a burned out box of circuits. Hell of a self-preservation mechanism, I have to say.”

  “Then how do you know it won’t self-destruct when you try and jam that pen in it?” Owen asked.

  “We don’t. Shit, given how well they’re built, the damn things will almost certainly do just that. But if it does work, then it makes our job way easier and saves a lot of people. Seems like a gambl
e worth taking, don’t you think?” Jeremiah seemed oddly sincere with the question, as though he’d listen to whatever objections Owen could voice. The big man had none, however, because Jeremiah was right. Even if it would probably fail, there was little risk to trying, and the payoff was high enough that it justified the time spent.

  “When the first wave is broken, I’ll snap the limbs off one and hold down its torso,” Owen offered. “It might still have some tricks up its sleeve, though, so be careful.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m a lot tougher than I look,” Jeremiah replied. “Might even be tougher than you.”

  Before Owen could call into question the likelihood of that, Dispatch’s voice sounded in his ear. “Titan, I wanted to let you know that the first defensive teams are in place at the fairgrounds, and that Deadlift is headed in your direction. He’s being brought by a Hero with flying abilities, so arrival should occur in less than three minutes.”

  “Thanks, Dispatch.” His team was safely under the protection of fellow Heroes, and the last member of their hunting party was en route. It wasn’t ideal—no situation where masses of destructive robots were about to attack could be—but it was as good as he could hope for. Part of him wished he could be with the PEERS to make sure they were safe, but they were in good hands. Aside from the Heroes present, they were plenty strong and smart themselves. He trusted in them to survive and to help where they were needed. If the tug-of-war had shown him only one thing, it was that none of those kids were the type to just roll over and die. Which reminded him. . .

  “Hey Dispatch, you don’t happen to know who won that tug-of-war event, do you?”

  “My understanding is that the Wild Bucks took the final win of the competition, although it was a tough one.”