by Drew Hayes
“You’ve got some nerve to talk about riding reputations. How many pawns did you need just to make it this far and get Agent Quantum in your clutches? All that effort to take on what you call a sickly imitation of the real team. Guess that makes you an imitation of the original Science Sentries’ actual villains. No wonder you had to settle for going after the kiddie version when you couldn’t cut it against the real deal.”
Facially, there was little change. Dermatologically, it was a terrifying show as the skin along his neck and face rapidly eroded, revealing gaunt, dark features. The more of him that was exposed, the surer Bahamut became that there was nothing other than bones waiting to greet them. It made the smile even more horrifying as a corner of the mouth fell away completely.
To her surprise, his next move was not to bolt over to her. Instead, he released Agent Quantum, who darted away and back to his feet in seconds. “How silly of me. I was caught up in the action, eyes on my prize, and nearly forgot to relish the experience. In front of a guild representative, no less. You’re quite right. This demands far more cruelty and torment. I shall play with you all for a bit longer, with one caveat. Agent Quantum, if you run, I’m going to kill everyone here, then start lopping off the heads of civilians, one per hour, until we finish this.”
Whoever this guy was, nothing gave the impression he was bluffing. Bahamut’s eyes flickered to Agent Quantum, noting the way his arm wasn’t hanging quite right. The grip on his shoulder had left damage, and that wasn’t even with the smoking arm. A single blow from this guy could take them out of the fight, or cave their very skulls in, depending on how much he put into it. They were outside their league right now, and all of them could feel it. But life wasn’t merely an equation with numbers plugged in. There was strategy and tactics to consider. Plus, they had the advantage of greater forces, and that opened up more options than working alone.
Rustling from the other room was all the warning they got before Medley came bursting out of the kitchen rubble, bounding on all fours as he came at the enemy. Bahamut charged, too, ready this time to make it a multi-pronged assault. Since she and Medley had no experience working together or fighting alongside one another, they’d elected for a simple division of combat labor.
As Medley went low, aiming for the legs, Bahamut went high, sending precise blows toward the torso. There was an uncomfortable crumpling as Medley hit the legs, his body collapsing in on itself from the resistance. Still, with claws dug in for grip, he managed to force the back of their enemy’s knee slightly forward, shifting his center of balance. Seeing the opening, Bahamut let loose a real punch, not holding back one bit. If she blasted the walls with his brains, then that was a good turn so far as she was concerned. Not one worth worrying about, however, as the strike sent pain tearing through her arm. It was like she’d hit a steel beam, except she suspected that would have hurt less.
For as strong as he was, the enemy did still use two legs to stand on. That meant shifting his balance in one direction while pushing hard in another was enough to leave him unsteady. On their own, that probably would have been the limit of their offensive, but there was still one more ally to account for. Agent Quantum came barreling in, showing no fear despite his recent failings, following up Bahamut’s blow with one of his own.
The trio of attacks was enough to do what on their own none could have managed: they knocked the stranger onto his back. Unfortunately, the plan had to adapt. Originally, this was when they would have helped Agent Quantum escape, getting everyone out and to safety. After that ultimatum, she had a hunch he wouldn’t go that easily. There was one idea from the old plan that could be repurposed, however: the way they’d planned to hold this guy off if he tried to follow.
Reaching down, Bahamut grabbed the man by his ankles, planning to easily chunk him through the air. Instead, she felt as if she were lifting a boulder. He was dense in a way that wasn’t quite weight, yet still made him hard to move. Putting everything she could manage into it, Bahamut used her whole body to force the throw, weakly slamming him into the wall at the far end of the room.
Upon landing, he rose to his feet, brushing some of the dust from what remained of his shirt. The left section had largely burned away, revealing that the smoking bits of flesh were now well past the left shoulder and into the torso. “If you’re about done, I think I’ve given you ample chance for your turn at offense.”
“That’s wasn’t my offense,” Bahamut corrected. “That was just optimal repositioning.”
He had almost enough time to realize the throw had placed him almost directly under the hole in the ceiling. Had he made it in time, that revelation might not have mattered much, given that the toughest fighters from every team were already down with him. But he didn’t share in Bahamut’s knowledge, namely that they had a pair of long-range damage dealers who were positioned right overhead, ready to fire if their opponent had tried to pursue.
She didn’t even have to call out the order. Both of the women watching had pieced it together; they’d heard the same threat to Agent Quantum as Bahamut. From above, multiple streams of concentrated energy rained down. Hephaestus’s beams were familiar by this point, and also visibly outclassed by the ridiculous torrent of energy flowing from Plasmodia. Clearly, she didn’t appreciate her team leader being threatened.
The combined assault was too much for Bahamut to look at; the guy’s body was essentially glowing. At last, the lights faded, and Bahamut was able to blink her way back to vision. In a way, she wished she hadn’t, because the first thing she saw was that their opponent was still standing. Only, he didn’t look much like the one they’d started the battle with.
Almost all the skin was gone, save for a few patches here and there, one hanging on just above his right eye, if it could be called that. An inky, dark orb easily mistaken for a void filled the socket, resting in a face with no nose, ears, or other decoration. Only a dark sinew ran between the black limbs, not like any form of muscle Bahamut had encountered before. Smoke rose from his entire body now, and she noticed the ground where he stood was warping and cracking.
There was no more smile—Bahamut realized there had never been one to start. Only a skull’s haunting, unmoving grin with a thin veneer of false flesh stretched atop. She really hoped the craftier members of their groups had something in mind. Her well of ideas ran dry just as he took a step forward.
“As I was saying, I think you’ve had a fair shot at offense, and should now realize just how impossible the fight is. However, I’m not done playing yet, so let’s make this a bit more fun. Something classic seems in order. Should you manage to guess my name, I’ll grant your wish and let everyone go. Even Agent Quantum.”
The words might have been heartening, if not for the malicious glee absolutely dripping from each word. No one was even surprised when he continued. “Just be warned, I take a toll of flesh for every attempt. Try as many times as you like, for as long as you can bear it.”
Chapter 116
Nothing. Not a scratch, not a dent, not a crack. Even Ivan had shown a small mark on his hand, and that was from a much earlier model of this blaster. Granted, he wasn’t exactly in full combat mode at the time, but this guy hadn’t employed any tricks that Hephaestus could discern either. It sure seemed like he’d just taken the entire blast of energy, near point-blank, without flinching. Given the intensity in her attack and the shock on her face, Hephaestus had a hunch Plasmodia was experiencing similar feelings.
Noises came from down the hall, where Cyber Geek and Cold Shoulder were taking care of another batch of straggling enemies. Hat Trick and Presto were still nearby; their powers tended to be more situational, so they’d been stuck guarding the unexpected trespasser. While it was impossible to read Presto’s face through the mask, Hat Trick’s expression made it clear she felt as flummoxed as they did. Not far away, Cliché was on her phone, scrolling like the wind, though what she was looking at, Hephaestus had no clue. By virtue of distraction, Cliché was one of two wh
o missed the terrifying display of durability. The other was Tachyonic, who was slowly coming around, but was still visibly out of it from Cyber Geek’s staff.
“We didn’t even annoy him. He’s ignoring us.” Plasmodia looked down at her hands, still glowing with what should be deadly power.
It was an experience Hephaestus had known was coming, yet the arrival was no more pleasant to endure: she was against someone above her abilities. Dealing with people like Ivan and the council, it was impossible to delude herself into believing her current meta-suit and some fire powers would be enough to overcome every challenge. Some metas existed on an entirely different scale than she did, for now. The man below was obviously one such example.
As panic swept through the others, she forced herself to stay calm. Terrifying as the moment was, all was not yet lost. Because the truth was, her original gift wasn’t beam-shooting gauntlets, or a homemade combat suit, or fire powers, or even meta-genius. From the very beginning, her one true talent was the capacity to look at a situation and keep thinking until she found a way through: intelligence born of willfully stubborn determination. This smoking bone-man had bested the suit. That wasn’t the same as beating her.
What did she have to work with? One cape with the powers of a stage magician, one with line-of-sight teleportation, a living plasma battery, topped off by commanders of ice and video games, respectively. She also had Cliché, who might be handy if they could hit upon the right saying. For most of those present, Hephaestus knew too little about their abilities and training to make proper use of them, but as she looked from her own hands to Plasmodia, an idea took shape. The same idea, in a way, only reformed and hopefully improved.
Below them, Bahamut tried to knock the legs out from under the enemy with a sweep, only to have her own leg kicked back so hard there was no question the bone would be fractured. Fast as she healed in that form, it would still hurt like hell. And that was nothing compared to what might happen if this guy really let loose. He was toying with them, openly so, and once the fun dried up, what came next wouldn’t be pretty. Agent Quantum and Medley ran in to help, but Hephaestus already knew how it would end. They were fighting a losing battle, unless she could change the equation.
“Anyone have guesses on the name?” Hat Trick asked. “I don’t think he’d really let us go, but it might give them some space, or create an opportunity.”
“No, which is troubling.” Presto sounded unlike himself. This might have been the first time Hephaestus heard him take a fight seriously. “I’ve studied the Science Sentries more than anyone but the most devoted superhero expert, and this guy is ringing zero bells. Even though he acts like he’s been around forever.”
While this wasn’t the time to say it, Hephaestus was having similar thoughts. Someone with this much power should have left an impression throughout history; the fact that he was such an unknown meant that either he’d been working in secret all this time, or another power had wiped out any traces of him. Neither boded well for what they were facing.
“Doesn’t matter. When we guess it, he’ll just find another excuse. Nobody having this much fun is just going to let the game end, especially after a plan this complicated to get here. If we want this asshole gone, the only way is to drive him out.” Hephaestus pointed to Plasmodia, who was slowly coming back to herself. “I need your help.”
“For what? Soldering? I just hit him with the strongest blast I’ve got. I could go bigger, but if that intensity didn’t work, then... there’s nothing I can do.” Plasmodia was also hitting the wall of her own limitations, and wasn’t nearly as prepared for it as Hephaestus had been.
Ordinarily, she’d have let the cape get over it in her own time, except Hephaestus needed Plasmodia if her idea had even a chance of working. “Why? Because your power doesn’t work? You fucking capes. It’s always about the abilities. Who gives a shit if he’s got us beat on that angle? We’ve got limbs, lungs, and most of all, brains. He’s stronger than us, fine. Let’s make ourselves stronger than him. Meta or not, we’re all humans at our base level, and there is nothing more human than using tools and wit to overcome a challenge outside our own abilities.”
She noticed Presto start to do a mock-clap, then halt himself. Perhaps because he agreed with the sentiment or just appreciated the impact it was having. Plasmodia no longer looked so unsure; instead, her face was creasing in anger. It might have been more ideal if that rage was pointed down into the hole, but Hephaestus would take the progress she could get.
“How the hell are we supposed to do that? I watched your attack do just as much nothing as mine, so it’s not like you’ve got an ace up your sleeve.”
“Funny you should mention sleeves.” Hoping this wouldn’t be a time when she looked back with deep regret, Hephaestus released the interlocking systems on her left gauntlet, reaching over to pull it free from the suit with her right. The removal of a suit piece revealed her hand and forearm, covered entirely by the costume she’d donned before her suit. Staying concealed was still ideal, as it would keep anyone from realizing Hephaestus was a woman, which made keeping her identity secret so much easier.
Lifting up the device, Hephaestus nodded to it. “If I work fast, I can retool my own blaster. Get rid of everything except for the amplification systems, put all of it into making the strongest shot possible. The more powerful a beam we start with, the greater the final output.”
“Who knows if that will even work? Or how long it will take?” Plasmodia couldn’t keep her eyes out of the hole, where they could see Agent Quantum take a particularly bad blow that sent him spinning. “If I went down there now, I couldn’t do anything, could I? I’d just be another target.”
“Let him take a crack at it,” Presto said. “Not like he’s trying to mess with any of our gear, and as you said, at this point, what do we risk? Even reaching out to try to teleport that guy felt like lifting a mountain. I’d probably explode my heart getting him across the street. It’s all I can do to minimize damage.”
Paying closer attention, Hephaestus realized that Presto was indeed doing more than throwing cursory looks at the trespasser in their care. When one of the downstairs combatants got knocked toward anything too dangerous or sharp, he would shift them over slightly, conserving energy while keeping the wounds they took as limited as he could.
“Anything.” This voice didn’t come from any that had been speaking. It belonged to Tachyonic, who had finally managed to bring himself back to consciousness. “Try anything. Doesn’t have to be a good plan. Doesn’t have to be a smart one. If it might work, that’s enough.” Sweating from the effort of sudden injury and temporary recovery, Tachyonic struggled to his feet, using the wall to lean on and discovering his ankle would tolerate the weight of a leg once more, albeit barely.
“I am not letting that bastard win. We save our friends, which means stopping this threat. Find a way, if you can. It’s the most any of us can do.” With barely a glance down to aim for the bed, Tachyonic leapt through the hole in the ground, reentering the fray as soon as he was able. There were bursts of speed as he scrambled off the bed, but he was definitely not back to full strength.
Shuffling through her sleeves and vest, Hat Trick sorted an array of magical items, plainly searching for anything that might be of aid. Her hands fell upon the wand, terror flickering in her gaze. “I’ve never used actual attack magic before. It would be a risk, but he might be vulnerable.”
“Knowing the way your new tricks tend to go before you master them, that might not be the best use of us,” Presto suggested. “I know how you’re feeling. Getting stuck on the sidelines is the worst. Welcome to being a support member: you have to watch the people you care about take the risks you aren’t able to.”
Those words, more than anything else, seemed to convince Plasmodia as she listened to them talk. “Hell with it. Sure, let’s try your plan. If it fails, we’re in exactly the same situation as right now. Just hurry. I think our enemy is getting bored.”
The second set of hands were familiar, largely because Tori recognized the high-end leather gloves around them. After all, she’d been there when Beverly loaned Chloe the accessories to complete her ensemble. Cliché was smiling nervously at Hephaestus, phone finally put away. “Don’t worry. I think I found a way to help.” Looking down again, she blinked, then pulled off the device hiding her eyes, setting them to the side. “Probably easier without the ultra-telescope goggles, though.”
“Much as I appreciate the sentiment, this is specialized equipment that demands expertise-level knowledge and skill to work with.” It was as close as she could get in a public setting to calling out Cliché’s total lack of understanding when it came to meta-suits.
Lowering her voice, Cliché leaned in, speaking directly to Hephaestus. “Look, my friends are down there, giving everything they can to keep us safe. It’s time for me to stop being so afraid of my power and see if it can do something of value, like helping stop that jerk. From behind the scenes, though, ideally.”
“Lovely as the sentiment is, that doesn’t change the fact that you have no idea how to work on this equipment.” Hephaestus was half-scared, half-curious on where this was leading. Knowing the ability Cliché possessed, it could truly be anything.
“Not at the moment, sure, but you’re forgetting one important fact: Anything you can do, I can do better.”
