by Matt Cowper
“Where are those superhumans fighting?” he asked Nightstriker quickly.
“Around 77th Street and Wayne Boulevard,” came the reply. “Don’t worry. Your father works ten blocks away, and I’ve had a local superhero check in on him. He’s fine, but he and his co-workers are going to evacuate just to be safe.”
Sam gaped. Not only did Nightstriker remember where his dad worked, he’d already taken steps to ensure his safety – all while Sam was daydreaming about how awesome this battle was going to be.
How had Nightstriker contacted that superhero? He hadn’t had more than a few free seconds to do so before they rocketed off the Beacon. Well, a few free seconds was all he needed, Sam guessed – he was Nightstriker, after all.
“So, uh, what’s the plan?” Sam asked. He needed to get serious and stop acting like a kid playing a video game. His father may be safe, but there were other fathers down there still in grave danger.
“Did you notice anything about that energy-projecting woman?” Nightstriker asked.
Sam had expected a detailed, practical plan, not a vague question. “Uh – she was really hot….”
Nightstriker turned his head slowly. His gaze was more potent than one of Sam’s concentrated fire blasts. Sam fidgeted in his seat and tried to act like he was pondering deep tactics and strategies.
“Yes, she is indeed attractive and voluptuous,” Nightstriker said, “and she is attired to show off her assets – much like Seaspray was when you fought her at the docks. You should know by now that many female supervillains dress this way to distract heroes.”
“I do know that,” Sam said. “But––”
“No buts. You need to control any urges you feel. Also, female villains will often appeal to our sense of chivalry when they sense defeat is imminent. They will say things like, ‘You wouldn’t hit a woman, would you?’ or ‘If only I’d been given a chance, but this patriarchal society shut me out.’ Do not listen to this nonsense. Some of these women have killed dozens. They must be taken out.”
“I know that, too,” Sam said, feeling like a broken record, “but sometimes the media––”
“The media and the half-wits on social media can start as many smear campaigns as they want,” Nightstriker said. “But I digress – you asked for a plan. I will ask you again: what did you notice about the woman, besides her eye-pleasing body?”
Sam racked his brain, but he couldn’t come up with anything. She shot purple energy, and her blasts did a lot of damage; his Fire Shield would likely hold against them, but one could never be certain.
“Sorry, sir,” Sam said, “I can’t think of anything.”
“She cannot maintain an energy barrage,” Nightstriker said. “It takes her a few seconds to recharge between blasts. You, of course, have no such limitations. You can shoot as many fireballs as you want – I’m sure there’s a limit, actually, but you have enough endurance to last through this battle.”
“Huh.” How had Nightstriker seen all this, in just the few seconds of footage they’d watched in the briefing room?
“The staff has been analyzing her energy while we’ve been traveling.” He pointed to a screen between them. Sam leaned forward, but the numbers and graphs were gibberish to him. “They’re strong, but your Fire Shield should protect you from her beams – but she could be holding back. This is why I hate fighting unknown superhumans.”
“So I just keep pounding her with fireballs, wear her down?” Sam asked.
“A better strategy would be to dive bomb her and engage in hand-to-hand combat,” Nightstriker replied. “She has not displayed any super-speed, and she hasn’t flown. We have to assume she’s ground-based. You can fly around her, disorient her, and lunge in for precise attacks. If that fails, simply melt the ground underneath her, and send her plummeting down to the subway tunnels or sewer. Even if she isn’t disabled, there won’t be anything for her to hurt down there but rats.”
“But…the subway….”
“I’ve already contacted the relevant officials,” Nightstriker said. “Nothing will come near here until this situation has been dealt with.”
Again, how had he done all this? Sam had seen him pressing a bunch of buttons on the Siren’s console; maybe he’d been typing out messages to every official in the city, even the animal control officer. It was certainly possible.
“OK, I’ll handle purple energy woman. She won’t know what hit her.” He gave Nightstriker a thumbs-up, but their team leader clearly didn’t want to return the gesture, so Sam sheepishly closed his fist. “What about everyone else?”
“That has yet to be determined.” He pressed a button, and the sound of static filled the cockpit. “Siren-1, this is Siren-2. I see you’re nearly at the incident site. Here is our plan of––”
“Hot diggity dog!” It was Buckshot, of course; he sounded like he was riding a mechanical bull, and loving every second of it. “These Sirens got some kick! I’ve flown in the older models, and I thought they had some git up n’ go, but these new babies are like the rowdiest stallions on the plains!”
Sam could see Nightstriker’s jaw muscles working. “Listen, everyone. These three are, on the whole, unknown quantities, but I see some unmistakable weaknesses. Blaze already knows his role; he will take on the energy-projector. Slab will––”
“––pound that big muscle-man’s skull into powder,” Slab said. “Shouldn’t take more than five punches. That’s the over/under I’ve got with Metal Gal. She took the over, cuz she has no faith in me, while I of course know what I can do.”
“No, that’s not––” Nightstriker began.
“We got this, leader man,” Metal Gal said. “I’ve done my own analysis. We’re ready to rumble! You won’t be disappointed!”
The static sound stopped; they’d closed the comm link.
“Dammit!” Nightstriker pounded the console, creating a sizable dent in the metal. Sam jumped, and flames reflexively flickered around his shoulders. Nightstriker was just a well-trained human – how did he have enough strength to dent what was surely a tough alloy?
“This is what I meant when I said we’d be the ones getting taught a lesson,” he said. “I only hope no one gets killed.”
“We’re a strong team, though, right?” Sam said, though his words were the equivalent of whistling in the dark. “And Metal Gal said she’d analyzed the situation….”
“Metal Gal’s analyses are average at best. She fixates on certain data points, the ones that excite her, and ignores the rest. She can, admittedly, do much with the data she focuses on, but her conclusions always have gaping holes in their logic.”
“But didn’t she transform her entire body into that…whatever it is? Living metal weapon thing? I thought she was an expert scientist.”
“She did, and she is, but she had her boyfriend’s help for that transformation,” Nightstriker said. “She was the one who could blaze into uncharted territory, he was the one who followed behind her putting up signposts and measuring the distance. The restless intellect and the calm organizer. They complimented each other well – but her boyfriend is now deceased. That is the main cause of her…many problems. But enough of that. You will all learn about each other soon enough – if no one dies today.”
He banked the Siren to avoid a skyscraper, then shot down until they were only a few feet above street level. Sam could see the carnage of the battle up ahead: smoke billowed up, and everything seemed to be on fire, even the concrete. Purple energy zigged and zagged through the air, and cars were being hurled about like baseballs.
“Go on ahead,” Nightstriker said. “I’m right behind you. Before you engage that woman, though, use your powers to extinguish those flames.”
“Go on…? How? You want me to jump out of the Siren?”
Again, that head-swivel and that cold stare. “Yes, that is what I want you to do. You can fly, can’t you? And you can create a protective shield around yourself, can’t you?”
“Yeah, you’re right
,” Sam said meekly, quickly unbuckling and rushing to the back of the Siren. One of the side doors slid open, and air rushed in; Sam could see buildings zooming past. Concentrating, he formed his Fire Shield and jumped out.
And smacked right into a streetlight. Thankfully, it didn’t hurt anything except his pride, and the streetlight, of course, was promptly melted into slag. Sam only hoped Nightstriker hadn’t seen his unintentional slapstick.
Who was Sam kidding? Nightstriker saw everything.
After recovering, Sam flew up until he had a good view of the battlefield. He held out his hands, and willed the countless fires to extinguish. Slowly, the fire tapered off, leaving behind tendrils of smoke and scorch marks.
“What the hell?!” he heard someone bellow below. Drifting lower, he saw it was the black muscleman. “Someone open up a big-ass fire extinguisher or what?”
“No, it was him!” shouted the purple-energy woman. “Look, he’s surrounded by fire – he must be able to control it!”
“I can control fire, too, among other things,” said the thin, pale man. “Let’s see how he does when I summon an anti-fire rune.”
A giant symbol appeared in the air beside the man, then flew at Sam. Besides its blue color, the symbol felt cold, even from this distance, like someone had opened the door to an industrial cooler. And while he couldn’t decipher the symbol’s exact meaning, a voice seemed to be shouting in Sam’s head that the symbol was his doom.
Sam shot a fireball at the flying symbol, but his blast disappeared like he’d shot it into a glacier. He twisted in the air, trying to dodge it, but the rune still clipped the left side of his body. The Fire Shield on that side instantly went out, and Sam felt like he had an ice cream headache. To his shock, there was actually a sheen of frost on his left arm.
And he was falling, right down to the unforgiving pavement.
“Shiiiitt!” he screamed. He tried to reignite his Fire Shield on his left side, but that side was completely numb. The right side of his body seemed fine: his Fire Shield was still blazing, and he felt that he could still fly with that side. But flying with one side of your body was more difficult than Sam imagined; it was like losing an engine or an entire wing if you were piloting a jet.
And the ground kept getting closer….
Then someone grabbed him, and his vision twisted rightside up. The ground was still getting closer, but not at a “death is certain” rate. Sam looked up, and saw that Metal Gal had snatched his free-falling body, and was now cradling him like he was an overgrown child.
She smiled, revealing glinting metal teeth. “I got you, kid. Teamwork, right?”
Sam looked over her body. She’d transformed her legs into thrusters, and was slowly lowering them to the city street. The thrusters looked badass – but more pressing were her breasts, which were right against his body. Metallic or not, they were still breasts, and still very large, and Sam could not stop staring….
Nightstriker had just lectured him about this! True, Metal Gal was an ally, but she could still be a distraction! He forced himself to look into her eyes instead of her bosom.
“Thanks, Metal Gal,” he said. “That…thing he did…oh, my Fire Shield! I’m melting you!”
The Fire Shield was still active on the right side of his body, and it was melting Metal Gal’s arms and stomach – and yes, part of her breasts – like butter in the microwave.
This didn’t seem to concern his teammate, though. In fact, she even giggled.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “A little fire won’t hurt me, not really. I’ll just run my repair function once we land. I may have to absorb some metal from the rubble to replace what’s melted, but it’s not a big deal. It’s actually fun! Have you ever absorbed aluminum? It tingles!”
“No, I…that’s not part of my––”
“Of course it’s not! I’m just being silly. Lighten up!”
Her hands worked across his side. It took him a moment to realize she was tickling him. Sam was ticklish, and when the person doing the tickling had metal fingers, it was even more disconcerting. Plus, her rapidly-melting fingers had moved through his Fire Shield! And his Fire Shield still hadn’t melted her arms! Most metal he touched was instantly disintegrated. While he was damaging Metal Gal, she was still made of tough stuff.
In his shock and physical violation, he lurched out of her arms. She gasped, but they were luckily only a few feet above the street, and while Sam landed ungracefully, he wouldn’t suffer anything more than a bruise or two.
“You OK?” Metal Gal asked. In a blink, her thrusters transformed back into “normal” legs. She patted him with a fire-deformed hand, which made Sam flinch.
“No, I’m not,” Sam said. “Nightstriker told me to take out that woman, but that symbol thing nullified my powers!”
“Well, only on one side,” Metal Gal said. “You’re split right down the middle, fire on one side, ice on the other. Think if you actually had ice powers in addition to your fire powers! You’d be even more powerful!”
“Less inane talk, more doing,” a gravelly voice said. It was Nightstriker, walking towards them like a drill sergeant about to unleash some verbal abuse.
“Uh…that rune….” Sam said.
“I saw,” Nightstriker said. “Metal Gal, help the others, and tell them to stop trying to match force with force. These superhumans––”
“Got it, leader man!” She rolled away – literally, as she’d turned her feet into roller blades. With all the debris around, though, she had to bob and weave, and constantly tripped over chunks of concrete or fallen street signs.
“This has been a disaster,” Nightstriker growled as he watched Metal Gal pirouette like she was on a disco floor, “but it’s still possible to win the fight. Hold still, Blaze. I’ll counter that rune’s effects.”
He moved his right hand through the air, like he was doing sign language. Sam was about to tell him that he didn’t understand American Sign Language, but then a red figure appeared where Nightstriker had been tracing. It was only about the size of a coffee mug, but it thrummed with energy, and unlike the blue rune that had hit Sam, this one felt…benevolent.
Nightstriker swiped his hand to the right, and the rune flew into the left side of Sam’s body. Sam recoiled, but the rune didn’t seem to hurt him – in fact, after a few seconds, the ice and frost that had covered his body was gone, as was the numbness. Sam concentrated, and the Fire Shield spread to the left side of his body.
“Wow,” he said. “I think I’m back to normal. How did you do that?”
“I simply countered the anti-fire rune he used,” Nightstriker replied. “I do not like using magic, even in circumstances such as this. Magic is too unpredictable. Try not to get hit again; I don’t want to tempt fate by overusing these abilities.”
“You know…magic? But…how?”
“By training, of course,” Nightstriker said. “Those runes the man is using were perfected by a sect called the Guild of All-One. I trained with them many years ago. How this man has learned their art, I don’t know – but I’m certain he has never joined their order and been taught by their masters. I aim to find out just how he acquired this forbidden knowledge. I also want to know what their goals are. They’ve made no declarations, no demands. But enough – I will handle the magic-user. You subdue the woman. The others – I’m sure they won’t listen to me until the situation is dire. Help them if you can. But remember – none of these superhumans have any endurance. Wait for them to tire.”
Then he was gone, jumping around, over, and through the rubble like he was a parkour expert. Which he was, basically; if he ever thought to make a compilation of his agile, urban gymnastic moves, Sam was sure it would sell millions.
Sam rose from the pavement and circled the battlefield from the air, surveying the scene before he acted. The rune-guy had surprised him before; if not for Metal Gal, he would’ve been dead, or at least severely injured.
Nightstriker was right – it did look like
a disaster. For all his bloviating, Slab was getting hammered by the giant black guy. He didn’t seem to be getting hurt, but as an offensive threat, he’d been almost completely neutralized; as soon as he tried to throw a punch, the black guy would grab his arm and slam him back down to the pavement, then stomp on him a half-dozen times before stopping.
But, like Nightstriker said, he had no endurance, and had to constantly stop to catch his breath. Slab didn’t seem to notice this, however, and would rise from whatever crater he’d been driven into, run right back in right when the guy recovered, and just get thrashed again.
Buckshot was blasting away with various firearms: a shotgun, some pistols that looked gold-plated, an assault rifle, even a crossbow. His shots hit the black guy right in the upper chest or head, but Buckshot might as well have been firing at an ultimatium-plated wall. The black guy just grinned and tossed some rubble at Buckshot. Buckshot rolled out of the way in plenty of time and came up firing, but again, it was a pointless endeavor. He wasn’t doing anything but decorating the street with shell casings.
Sam now noticed the bodies of the superheroes who’d first arrived on the scene. They looked beaten to death, but they were hopefully just unconscious. Several brave first responders were carrying them away from the fighting. Sam wondered if he should help, but Nightstriker hadn’t mentioned anything about that. He’d probably rationalized that unless they stopped these three quickly, more people would be maimed or killed. It was a cold calculation, but that was why he was the team leader.
Metal Gal was fighting the purple-energy woman. Or, to be more precise: she was standing there letting the purple-energy woman blast her. She’d formed her right arm into a shield, which seemed to be protecting her from the woman’s beams, but she wasn’t doing anything besides playing defense. Metal Gal had plenty of opportunities to retaliate; as Nightstriker said, the woman could fire her blasts only every few seconds. But in the time she took to recharge, Metal Gal would do nothing but peek around her shield, and by then the woman was ready to fire again.