by Ekeke, C. C.
Greyson followed the screams and trail of destruction, easily finding the source.
Farther up the street, a mountainous metallic man was tossing cars and streetlamps with scary ease, a crazed glower in his face. Brightburn dove for cover, lobbing forks of blue lightning at her teammates without care for fleeing bystanders.
Reverb bounced toward his powerhouse teammate, a shimmery kinetic forcefield surrounding him. He unfurled both feet, drilling Bulldozer’s face to stagger him back.
Shaking off the attack, Bulldozer punched Reverb so hard the smaller man sailed several blocks down the street into a building. Limbs splaying out, he slid to the ground.
“Time to intervene,” Greyson murmured, floating toward the battle in progress. The closer he got, the higher the body count. Had these people no survival instinct?
Erika Skye stood in the middle of the ravaged street, several yards from Bulldozer between him and a group of fleeing people. Bright, deadly knives shone between her curled fists. She looked stricken facing her colleague. “Dozer! Please stop!”
Bulldozer roared, emotions amplified by Shattershot’s powers, and charged full-speed.
Erika crouched, hurling her knives in a backhanded arc. Energy projectiles streaked toward Bulldozer, piercing his chest and abs and leg. He barely slowed, lost in rage. Brightburn lobbed another dose of lightning. That juddered Bulldozer, but he didn’t stop. The screams grew louder.
Erika stood her ground, taking a traffic cop’s stance with one hand raised like some traffic cop.
Greyson gasped, watching Bulldozer about to trample her. And Erika becomes a martyr.
He promptly reached out, tethering Erika’s gravity to a building on her left.
That sent a surprised Erika staggering sideways.
Seconds afterward, Bulldozer stampeded over where she’d stood, each step shaking the ground. He accelerated his charge, overtaking the fleeing young people.
There was a series of sickening crunches. Greyson’s stomach twisted, forcing him to turn away.
Horror erupted up and down the street’s length, including Erika. “DOZER!”
Bulldozer finally came to a stop, looking around groggily as if roused from slumber. “What’s going on?” He stared at his leader in confusion. “Erika?”
Despite Shattershot’s powers wearing off, Shenandoah’s citizens still fled, cursing his name. Greyson smiled beneath his mask. To them, these Natural Born Thrillers were now the villains.
Brightburn was sobbing amid the deafening chaos. “Dozer, what have you done?”
Bulldozer furrowed his metal brow, still not understanding. “What are you talking…about…?” His confusion died as he finally noticed the crushed and contorted bodies around him, some outright flattened.
Greyson relished in Bulldozer’s bald-faced horror.
“No…Nonono.” He clutched at his shiny scalp. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!”
Greyson couldn’t let him regain his full faculties. He reached for a streetlamp, the long pole wrenched from the ground at his command. He made a throwing motion in Bulldozer’s direction. “No, you’re not. Not even close.” The streetlamp accelerated in a downward blur, thirty-five times its normal gravity, and tethered to Bulldozer’s body.
The jarring scrunch of metal puncturing metal caught everyone off-guard, especially Bulldozer. The hero seemed mildly stunned by the streetlamp impaling him from behind through his midsection, stabbing into the concrete.
“Bulldozer!” Erika Skye ran to him, sobbing.
Brightburn spotted Greyson hovering overhead. Her expression darkened. “Son of a bitch.” She crackled from head to heel with electricity, a promise of violence.
“You don’t know my mother!” Greyson responded insolently and pointed at a fire hydrant. Heavy gravity popped the cap off. A thunderous torrent of water spewed out, slamming Brightburn into an overturned car. Bolts of energy jumped out of Brightburn to spear several bystanders idiotically standing around. More electrocuted bodies dropped.
Brightburn spasmed then stilled, out of the fight.
That left one last Thriller. Greyson floated before a devastated Erika Skye, scattering more bystanders.
Any pity toward her went out the window the moment she’d attacked him.
Erika put herself between Greyson and a wounded Bulldozer. She looked so weary. “Who…are you?”
“Damocles,” Greyson proclaimed, not using his vocal modulator. “But what’s my real name, Erika?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God.”
“That’s right.”
Bulldozer struggled and failed to pull the streetlamp out of his body.
Erika’s face was inundated with conflicting emotions as everything clicked. “You did this,” she said, sounding dazed. “You did this to the Thrillers. To Shenandoah.”
Reverb leaped forward and landed beside his leader, stumbling. His kinetic forcefield shimmered so bright, it reflected off the battle-torn surroundings.
She still won’t take responsibility. Greyson shook his head. “Correction,” he calmly retorted. “All this was caused by you.” He cast a sweeping arm at the wrecked neighborhood. “I truly hope you’ve enjoyed the ruin your team has inflicted on this city.”
Erika seethed. Hot knives sprouted from between the fingers of her clenched fists. “I’m gonna kill you.”
Greyson snickered at her useless wrath. “Language.”
She made a hurling motion as if pitching a baseball. Ten scalding energy knives streaked at Greyson.
Brief panic came and went as he cocooned himself in anti-gravity.
The hot knives veered off at sharp angles, slicing harmlessly into buildings or cars.
Reverb gasped. Erika’s jaw dropped. “How…did you do that?”
“Like I do this.” Greyson let loose an invisible gravitational pulse with a swift hand chop.
Erika and Reverb got launched back, suspended briefly in mid-air. Both hit the ground in limp heaps.
Reverb’s kinetic field evaporated.
“All too easy.” Greyson floated to Bulldozer, who frantically yanked at the streetlamp speared into him. The pole was now warped beyond recognition. He roared in frustration at his own helplessness, swatting at Greyson.
But he remained an inch or so out of reach and slowly shook his head. Watching Bulldozer get his comeuppance was invigorating. “For the record, Dozer,” he stated. “You were right about me.”
Bulldozer’s eyes nearly popped. “You’re gonna die—”
Greyson lazily closed a fist. “Hush now.” Heavy gravity pulled Bulldozer’s lips together. Now his rage came across as muffled, wordless rage.
With the Thrillers lying defeated, frightened bystanders cautiously gathered. Most murmured and pointed while others sobbed at the casualties. But the growing anti-superhero sentiment was obvious on their faces and their words. Greyson spotted several people pointing camera phones. Two bystanders were hoisting up professional video cameras. Perfect.
Greyson beckoned them forward, switching on his vocal modulator. “Come closer. You’ll want this recorded.” He spread his hands once the cameramen were near, a preacher addressing his flock. Then he improved his speech. “People of Shenandoah, look at the wreckage these Natural Born Thrillers caused your city. And on a day of celebration, no less. Look!”
The demand startled many. But like sheep, they did as ordered. Their responses ranged from more grief to visceral anger. Good.
Greyson had them in the palm of his hand. “For centuries, we built our own prisons, organized and equipped our own enemies,” he preached. “Licensed our salvation. All to fund our own oppression.”
He pointed at a helpless Bulldozer, impaled to the ground by the streetlamp. “Each time we beg these heroes to save us, buying their merchandise, we fund our own oppression. The Thrillers are no different from murderers like Paragon, the Elite.” His lip curled in disgust. “And the newest savior, the so-called Shield of Justice. Who are they to tell you ho
w to live? The woman who beats citizens half to death? Or the leader who couldn’t spot a mole within her own ranks?” Rage spasmed through Greyson as he thought of traitors. Someone who knew of his mission had betrayed him. And I will rain down hell when I learn who, he fumed.
“What makes you different from them?” a random woman shouted from the sea of faceless silhouettes.
Greyson grinned. “Because I, Damocles, am the cure.” He jabbed at his own chest. “I am necessary.” He paused, assessing his tone. “Melodramatic, I know. But some truths need pageantry to be digested.” And by his rabid audience’s reaction, they were listening.
In the background, sirens blared and grew closer. Greyson’s time was nearly up. Shenandoah police cars moved in, slowed by streets littered with wreckage caused by the Natural Born Thrillers. Greyson squinted, noticing how these weren’t, in fact, police cars. The familiar police Dodge Charger model and colors sported a Paxton-Brandt logo. This had to be their security forces to apprehend the Thrillers before actual cops arrived.
Greyson laughed freely, which sounded cartoonishly sinister with the modulator. “All yours, officers.”
He soared into the velvety-purple heavens and away from the disaster area. Police drones attempted to follow, only for him to increase their gravity until each one plummeted.
Greyson rocketed off into the night, mission accomplished.
Chapter 42
The skies above Atascadero were stained by dirty smoke.
Bile rose in Hugo’s throat as he watched the Forces of Nature’s destruction moving farther into the San Miguel suburb.
Downtown Atascadero was a smoking, waterlogged ruin. Random pockets of flames hungrily licked at abandoned cars and local businesses. Paragon’s Pub, a staple of Atascadero, burned brightly.
Meteora, Alluvion, Hellfire with his manbun, and Sirocco roved through the streets. The quartet lashed out at anything still alive, comparing kill counts. Hugo seethed in disgust.
Police had barricades around Atascadero. News choppers and drones soared overhead.
And here Hugo stood, hiding in an alleyway behind some roofless bistro. Fouled water sluiced around his boots, mixed with blood.
Every atom in him longed to race out and bitch-slap these four into next week.
That worked so well last time, right? Hugo grimaced. He couldn’t screw up this second strike. Another Lady Liberty axiom bubbled up. Fight with your head, not your ego. Lives depend on it.
Hugo tapped the left side of his hood. “In position,” he whispered. “Arclight?”
“In stealth mode and ready,” J-Tom’s modulated voice replied.
Hugo felt better having her here. “Ballistic?”
“Almost there.” Scuffing noises detailed Ballistic scrambling to higher ground. “Step by step.”
“Blackjack,” Hugo hissed.
“Domino, Cherry, and I are moving into position,” Blackjack replied, wind whipping in his location.
“Justice?”
“Becky and I are nearing Morro Bay’s Lab,” Justice Jones added, his motorcycle engine roaring.
“Polymer and I are at the city border. Waiting for pickup,” Max informed.
“You need a codename, Max.” Hugo sighed to calm the impatience. “Squad A. Wait for my signal.” He peeked around the corner of a charred clothing store.
Sirocco hovered above an overturned Hummer. “Well?”
Alluvion swept over to his companions. Worry filled his translucent face. “The longer we wait, the shorter the escape window.”
Hellfire spun around in a dazzling spiral of flames. “Why rush with so many splendors to paint?”
Meteora gave him an annoyed look, tapping a communicator on her collar.
“Bogie.”
Hugo jerked back into hiding. The voice in his ear startled the shit out of him.
“Private channel,” Simon continued. “You there?”
Hugo scanned around, unsure whether to be grateful or angry. “What are you doing?” he fumed quietly.
“School let us out after the second earthquake,” Simon explained. “No one got hurt or anything. I’m home…and saw the fight. You okay?”
Hugo cringed. Of course, Simon saw him get his ass thoroughly kicked. “Mostly. I’m attacking again.”
“Alone?” Simon asked disbelievingly.
Hugo scowled. “I got backup.”
“Great! Well, I’m here too. For strategy.”
Hugo chuckled. “Thanks, uso.” Simon’s support meant more than any superhero ally. Now he felt ready.
Currently, Meteora addressed her cohorts. “Myriad needs ten more minutes.”
Alluvion wasn’t calmed. “A lot can happen in ten minutes. What if Tomorrow Man shows up?”
His teammates laughed. “My first thought was who?” Sirocco mocked. “And my second was, ‘oh’.”
All four guffawed loudly, distracted.
They had to strike. “Guys?” Hugo asked, tapping his other comm channel.
“Ready,” Blackjack confirmed.
“Ready,” Ballistic added.
Hugo’s relief preceded panic. Game time. He floated off the ground toward the Forces of Nature.
“We’ve never been caught,” Hellfire singsonged, pointing a finger and torching letters on a store window, melting it to goo. “I’m not changing that narrative.”
“Relax, children.” Meteora waved him off. “We’ll leave soon and get paid big bucks.”
Hugo touched down in a crouch before them. Impeccable superhero landing.
Sirocco flinched away. Alluvion reared up like a watery cobra.
Hugo rose, heart aflutter. On the outside, he was cool and contained. “Not likely, Meteora.”
Meteora’s eyes glittered in disbelief. “You again?” Her scoff oozed pity. “Didn’t we beat some sense into you?”
Alluvion grunted. “Someone’s masochistic.” He puffed out his translucent chest, growing three feet. Bright-yellow flames swirled around Hellfire. “I see a canvas ripe for graphic carnage.” He rubbed his hands, sparks shooting out.
“Whatever.” Sirocco floated her pudgy frame just over Alluvion and dropped into him with a splish-splash.
To Hugo’s bafflement, a ferocious swirl of fog followed.
In their place was a towering monster resembling a cloudy Michelin Man born of nimbus clouds.
“This time,” the cloud monster’s voice was rolling thunder, “you leave in a casket.”
Hugo didn’t flinch from the threat. “This time….” He spied a ripple of movement behind the Forces of Nature. “I brought friends.”
Meteora appeared baffled. “Friends?”
“Like me!” Ballistic appeared out of thin air in his gold-and-blue costume. He landed on top of a scorched sedan and tossed a fistful of kinetic-charged marbles.
“Who—?” Before Meteora finished, six marbles clattered among them and detonated on contact with the pavement. She went flying, pounded by successions of detonation.
Hellfire got thrown from the sky. The cloud monster stumbled into repeated discharges, roaring its displeasure.
Hugo inhaled and pasted the quartet with a rippling sonic scream.
Ballistic smirked from his perch. “Can’t catch me! Whatcha gonna do about it?!” He backflipped over the Forces of Nature completely, kinetic energy boosting his speed and agility.
Hugo hung back, watching the assault unfold.
Meteora furiously struggled upright, rocky frame cracked.
“Alluvion. Sirocco. Separate and kill that bouncy asshole.” She pointed at Ballistic cartwheeling away.
The cloud monster whipped and whirled. Abruptly, Alluvion and Sirocco were separate again.
The hydrokinetic rushed on his tidal wave in pursuit. “Gladly…WHAT?” A white spray doused Alluvion’s arm, quickly coagulating into pasty cement.
J-Tom dropped stealth-mode, appearing in all her armored glory. “Still glad?” she mocked.
Sirocco dove at her. J-Tom swung her ar
m back without looking and fired a photonic blast. The aerokinetic yelped and dodged away from the slicing beam.
Hugo chortled, admiring her work. Nice, Jenny.
Meanwhile, Ballistic was dodging and flipping over every fireball Hellfire lobbed at him.
With one arm useless, Alluvion sailed in, wielding his other watery arm. “You—?”
J-Tom weaved out of the way, spraying Alluvion’s other arm in that same fluid. Now the hydrokinetic keeled forward, weighed down by two leaden, useless arms.
J-Tom floated before him. “That looks uncomfortable.”
Alluvion furiously jerked up, snapping both cement arms off. A fountain spewed out from his chest, embracing J-Tom like a lover. “C’mere…” He dragged her into his watery body completely.
Hugo almost raced to her rescue but stopped himself. Let’s see if Jenny can escape.
Alluvion gloated at trapping J-Tom inside him. “Good luck not drowning…now…koff…koff.” Alluvion’s translucent body grew cloudy, slowing in movement. “What the…?”
Hugo smirked. “You look kinda stiff, Alluvion….” The pun was too obvious, even for him.
Soon, Alluvion froze into an alabaster statue of a human body and wave-like lower half.
J-Tom exploded out of him moments later. Alluvion crumbled into piles of brittle fragments.
Meteora screamed in wordless outrage.
Hellfire’s eyes went saucer-wide before he got beaned in the chest by three rapid-fire marbles.
Sirocco clutched her head. “NOOOO!”
Hugo pumped his fist. “Three to go.”
“That was awesome!” Simon exclaimed on comms.
“Right?” Hugo then turned to J-Tom. “Take Max and Polymer to the Morro Bay lab.”
“Done.” She zoomed toward the city border, her jet boots leaving a slight contrail. After hanging a sharp left, the armored hero disappeared.
Hugo tapped his hood for the main comm channel. “Justice. Arclight, Polymer, and Max are incoming.” He recalled something Meteora had revealed. “Myriad is the thief at the lab. And she’s a duplicator.”
“I hate dupes,” Becky complained.
Justice Jones chuckled. “Thanks for the warning, kid.”
Hearing a rumble barrel his way, Hugo leaped straight up—evading a track of jagged earth ripping apart where he’d been standing.