Bones of the Past (Villains' Code Book 2)

by Drew Hayes

  “Cyber Geek, what’s your status?” The voice came over his communicator, one of the support staff that was too numerous to learn purely by voice.

  “Cleanup is nearly complete, at least for the big chunks. Team is ready for our next assignment.”

  “We’ve got reports of an unusually large crowd massing up in a residential block to your east. Could be people collectively banding together in case they’re attacked, but the old lady who called it in sounded spooked. Better make sure we don’t have early rioters striking in the chaos. Sending location.”

  On his camera feed, Cyber Geek saw a Wrexwren wander into frame, directly to their northwest. His whole body went cold, the understanding that the battle was near landing on him in a way that seemed perhaps too familiar, given how long he’d been at this. It was a small mercy that the Wrexwren arriving were nowhere as intimidating as Zerle Salvrin, the leader whose face and name were all over the internet thanks to that livestream. Why in the hell the villains were up there, let alone squaring off with the Wrexwren, he hadn’t the faintest idea. There was no time to sit and watch the unfoldings, so all of his intel was coming from what could be gleaned from short snippets of information.

  Quick as the threat had arrived, it vanished, punched out of frame by someone wearing a brilliant emerald cape. With a small breath of relief, Cyber Geek activated the team channel on his communicator. “Be aware, there’s some extra threats to the north. Exilor has got it handled from what I can see, but still, stay careful. There could be more around. Our orders are to head east—we’ve got a crowd that apparently needs controlling. We’re not sure if they’ve just scared or up to no good, so diplomacy first until we know for sure. There’s plenty of people afraid right now, the last thing we need is a misunderstanding.”

  Medley dropped a sizable hunk of bricks onto the sidewalk, out of the roadway, before spinning a few times to get his bearings. “You said east of where we are now?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  The buzz on Cyber Geek’s phone proved to answer the question at the same time as Medley did, even though his teammate couldn’t see the mini-map that had just appeared, showing their next destination.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s where we went to your friend’s pool party.”

  Whether it was his animal abilities or merely a good sense of direction, Medley was spot on. While the map only gave a general zone based on the report received, it couldn’t be a coincidence that Tori’s building was smack dab in the middle of the estimated area.

  “Everyone, move out. We’ve got civilians in potential danger.” Despite keeping his words calm and professional, it took everything Cyber Geek had not to put on his jetpack at that very moment. Getting there ahead of his team would only make things harder, however, and rationally, he knew that. Nevertheless, after failing to be there for Tori twice already, Cyber Geek refused to go for three.

  This time, he was going to save his friend.

  “Get me every space-faring meta we have up there, knock those ships down before they ever break the atmosphere. Defense team, why are our beam-cannons missing so many of these vessels? How is our ground response going?”

  From the sea of nameless workers, a voice rose up. “We’re working on counters for some of shielding and blocking tech they’ve employed, sir, but it’s… well, it’s like they know exactly what to defend against.”

  Professor Quantum stood in the center of the chaos, watching every monitor, hearing every tidbit screamed or spoken his way, constantly calculating. In terms of raw power, he was now on the higher side of the scale, although he’d started much closer to Agent Quantum before decades of self-betterment. Even after all of that, his physical capabilities could never hold a candle to the talents of his mind. The world was filled with metas of all shapes and manners, but only he, only Professor Quantum, had gotten there on his own. He’d broken the world, yes, and by doing so introduced the meta-elements and shifted physics that made such impossibilities real, but he’d had to do it before those things existed. His power had come through old-fashioned hard work and genius, traits that were only amplified after the change.

  Today, he was acting as the nerve-center of the response, issuing orders and tactics, conducting the entire fray like a lab-coat wearing maestro. Out there, he was one more set of highly capable fists. In here, he was an electric charge to the system, speeding everything up and handling issues as they arose. No one had objected to him taking on the role; in fact, most were delighted by it. Even Lodestar agreed it was the right call, and they were so often at philosophical odds that alone counted as a small miracle.

  Yet it was not entirely for the greater good of the AHC that Professor Quantum had taken his place in the communications hub on this occasion. Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of his brain, a small voice whispered that he should see as much as he could. This tiny, oft-ignored voice represented what remained of Professor Quantum’s self-doubt—a voice that whispered there was one enemy out there who could have been at work behind the scenes. Thought to be dead, but then, wouldn’t be the first time, would it? With his massive intellect absorbing every detail from the multitude of informational streams, this ensured that if any clues did pop up, Professor Quantum would be the one to catch them first.

  How he would deal with such an issue if it arose remained to be seen. There would situational details to consider, but Professor Quantum would want to have a hand in the response regardless. If that annoying little voice did prove to be right, it only be proper that he deal with it.

  This was no mere common criminal capitalizing on an opportunity. This was a chance to deal with an old friend.

  For good.

  At long last.

  It was hard to tell if he was being led purposefully on a long route, or the winding nature of the ship simply made it seem that way. Around Ivan the orbs swirled, sending video of him and Zerle Salvrin, still leading the way, back home to Earth. The broadcast idea had been a hard sell, but Wade won out in the end. As he pointed out, the purpose of this was visibility, reminding everyone why the guild was nothing to trifle with. If they allowed the AHC to control the narrative, then any achievements the guild earned would either be minimized, ignored, or outright robbed of their due credit, depending on what suited the organization best. This way, there was no chance for them to spin. It gave the guild control of their own message, but also demanded Ivan rise to the challenge of live theatre. Fornax’s performance would be key to making this worth the effort.

  Zerle Salvrin made no attempts at chitchat or conversation. If Ivan was reading his general energy right, the Wrexwren leader seemed more put out than anything. Likely, he’d expected to join the invasion fun once Lodestar was off handling the giant space-monster. One of great many disappointments Ivan planned to deliver before the day was over.

  At last, they reached a pair of large doors covered in various markings. Zerle Salvrin tapped a clawed finger on the entrance, producing an unexpectedly harmonious ping. “Perzolic ore. Very rare. Source unknown, chunks have been found spread across the galaxy. Once forged, indestructible. Every master-warship must include such a chamber. The only way to have a proper battle while traveling.”

  The message was clear: no need to hold back. This cell could handle whatever they dished out—in theory, anyway. Zerle Salvrin stepped back as the doors parted and revealed an entire room made of the same gleaming metal. Given the rarity Salvrin described, Ivan could only speculate how many worlds worth of conquering this represented. Maybe there were a few shards of Perzolic ore buried on his planet as well, scraps the Wrexwren were eager to get their claws on.

  He stepped inside, followed by Zerle Salvrin. Once they were through, the doors shut loudly and melodically in one sweeping clang. Scanning around, Ivan noted that there were no screens or windows—hardly surprising given the room’s purpose, but inconvenient for the plan he had in mind.

  “Perhaps you technologically sophisticated pillagers have some sort of way to watch t
he outside world. Lodestar versus a monster that eats suns, I have to see that one play out.” The grin he gave was not for Zerle Salvrin; very little of any of this was. All of the pageantry was for the masses watching at home, ones who’d know quite well about Fornax’s history battling Lodestar.

  “You wish to see your champion devoured before being broken yourself. What a strange challenger they have sent me this time.”

  On the ceiling above them, an image suddenly snapped into focus. Darkness, the void of space stretching on endlessly… until the flash of light. Lodestar, blazing through the sky, on a crash course with an alien creature of untold size and power. Didn’t even seem fair, really.

  “Do you have more requests, or are you prepared to begin?” Zerle Salvrin did little to hide his lack of patience, so perhaps the walk to get here really was just that long after all.

  “I was prepared upon arrival, there—”

  The movement was instantaneous, so much faster than the unwieldy size betrayed. Zerle Salvrin struck as soon as Ivan confirmed he was ready, mix of limbs twisting into a strange pretzel of crooks and angles. There was only a second to realize that this must be a kind of Wrexwren martial art before the first blow caught Ivan in the face, blasting him across the room where he banged off the far wall, leaving not so much as a scratch in the surface. He did note that the ringing sounds were far less enjoyable when conjuring them with one’s own skull.

  “Pathetic.” Zerle Salvrin was standing a bit back, still twisted up, waiting to see what his opponent would do. After all that boasting, Ivan was really hoping for a paper tiger; unfortunately, Zerle Salvrin lived up to his own hype. That punch had packed a wallop.

  Rising to his feet, Ivan brushed off his shirt and ran a hand along Fornax’s mask, as if checking the placement—not that it had any potential to move with all the latches and charms keeping it in place. “Not bad, for a sucker punch. You might make this fun yet.”

  Again, no hesitation as Zerle Salvrin charged, although he did let out one quick response before unleashing a flurry of blows. “Pity, I do not hold the same expectations for you.”

  Chapter 105

  For a bunch of randoms, Lozora’s motley collection of crooks was sticking to the plan surprisingly well. They’d all remembered their approaches and areas to guard, ensuring there was no chance of escape. After that, it was a matter of turning up the pressure until the women caved and called for help.

  “Boss, we got an issue. The team that was supposed to be ahead of us isn’t here.” The communicators, like all the tech these minions were using, were hand-made by her employer. A little shoddy on appearance, yet they carried a clear signal from within the building to Lozora’s position down the street, where she was keeping watch.

  The message came from one of the front-teams, second only to the actual first wave. “Are there any clues?”

  “We thought we heard a scream and something heavy falling, but that’s it. No signs of a struggle. They’re just gone.”

  Teleportation? Or perhaps just a hidden pit or latch that covered up the captured contents. Either way, what the hell? Who had put traps inside an apartment building? After a moment’s consideration, Lozora reasoned that there must have been defensive measures put in when the New Science Sentries took up residency.

  “Careful, the AHC might have added a few tricks around there. Can’t be too dangerous, though, not in a public residence. Watch where you’re going, and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  “Sure” was something of an overstatement, and for a moment, Lozora felt the uncomfortable sensation of guilt slither through her. It wasn’t based on morality in particular—these assets were expendable, that was the reason they were here, and she didn’t tend to hold mammalian life in high regard to start. Yet she did dislike finding herself doing to others what she herself especially loathed. Keeping a team in the dark made her feel a bit too much like her employer. The man barely gave her any information to go off of, keeping nearly all the tidbits that might make her job that much easier to himself. At least they knew who the bait was versus the real target... probably.

  This time, she caught part of a boom on her communicator, in the split second before it cut out. After waiting a few moments, she tapped the broadcaster to send out a wide message. “Everyone, be advised: it seems there are some traps in place. Two of our advance teams are down already.”

  She imagined that riled them slightly. Most had been equipped with some level of offensive equipment, although those were for when the capes arrived, making these lower-powered goons feel like real threats for a change. Only now they would start realizing that a shiny new toy wasn’t enough to change the odds entirely, not in a world like theirs. There might be threats they never even saw coming, to say nothing of having time to pull a trigger.

  Because of her vantage point away from the building, only Lozora saw the approach. A figure in black metal descended from the sky, coming down with unexpected grace on the sidewalk outside. For a moment, she dared hope the job might be done, only to quickly realize this wasn’t the cape they were fishing for. Didn’t look like any cape she knew, in fact. She might have seen a suit like that one in the Ridge City Riots footage, but who could keep track of every metal-based costume?

  Regardless, this wasn’t their target: only an interloper and potential cause of trouble. Luckily, that was why the pawns had been equipped. This should be a threat they could handle, with the aid of technology.

  “Perimeter Team Two, there’s a meta-suit that just landed near your exit. Send a few with firepower to deal with it.”

  Almost instantly, they came from the nearest doorway’s shadows. Three of her people, all packing some manner of ranged weapon. The one at the vanguard had a red serpent tattooed along the length of his body, poking out of the neck and ending on his skull. She’d seem him bring that tattoo to life when another member of the crew spoke with disrespect; it manifested as nine feet long and incredibly venomous. And that was nothing compared to what the mini-molecule detonator he was aiming would do to all but the hardiest of flesh. Behind him were a pair of tough metas with fun guns of their own. She practically felt bad for the poor idiot who’d chosen the wrong landing point.

  Running up on their quarry, they didn’t bother with such pleasantries as a warning. Red Snake raised his gun, getting a line on the target, ready to shoot. Lozora was so focused on watching her people, she didn’t catch the source of the beam. All she saw was the flash of light as a searing energy burst forth, sweeping along to make sure it hit all three of the approaching forms. In seconds, it was over, and what remained of Lozora’s attackers was writhing on the ground.

  No warning. Not even a word said. They saw a weapon aimed and responded with zero hesitation, employing what was inarguably far too much force. That was definitely not a cape—even the worst of them couldn’t get away with that kind of response. Yet the power of the weaponry employed spoke to a professional, someone a cut above from the general rabble of ne’er-do-wells.

  The only minor mercy was that, by luck or intent, the beam had been fired at a low angle, targeting the bottom halves of the would-be attackers and ensuring only some melted street in collateral damage. Lozora also noticed a lack of blood, and quickly realized that the wounds were cauterized as they formed. The end result was that all three were technically alive, for the moment, though none were as whole as they’d been moments prior.

  “What the living fu—” Lozora didn’t hear the rest of the message. It was cut off, though she was fairly certain her excellent ears detected something like a roar coming from within the building. More than just one, they were coming in succession. Screams, as well.

  After a moment, she got a more coherent message. “Boss, something is in here! It’s green, and huge, and it’s breaking people in half. We can’t even get a clean shot.”

  “Then take a dirty one,” Lozora snapped. Months of work, planning, scheming, and all of it was getting immediately fucked up by some unknowns cra
shing the party. She didn’t really care about success or failure on a personal level, but her employer would be sure to blame her for any issues, and this project represented too much work to miss out on her payday.

  Like most of the crew, this member proved to be more adept than expected at following orders. Less than five seconds later, part of the building’s third floor exterior wall exploded outward, sending brick and debris spraying into the empty street. The newly formed window showed Lozora a peek at what was going on, and it was not a pleasant sight. What few of her people she could even still see were either leaning on a wall or one another, clearly nursing injuries. One of them lifted a staff overhead, preparing an attack, only to go sailing back from an unseen blow. The strike carried him off his feet, and would have slammed him into a wall, if only the wall was still there.

  Instead, he went sailing out the new third-story expedient exit, crashing with a wet thud on the sidewalk below. Lozora was fairly certain he’d been an extra tough meta, so there was a chance he might walk it off. The same couldn’t be said for what remained of the advance teams, who’d been cut through at a rapid rate.

  While Lozora was distracted, the black meta-suit had advanced, making it all the way to the front entrance. She didn’t see the charge, but evidently, one of her people tried to hold the perimeter. The suit threw a punch, grabbed an arm and twisted its hips, hurling the adversary into plain view as they were tossed over the suit’s shoulder, into the street. Blood ran down the goon’s mouth, indicating where that first punch had landed. Walking back over, the suit leaned down, and then stomped on both of the man’s elbows. Between the impact and the audible crunch, it was clear he wouldn’t be getting back into the fray.