by Drew Hayes
Hephaestus grabbed Cliché as the threat drew near, no longer shouting, the voice still easily carried through the small space. “Weapon is out of our hands now. Can you think of anything to give it some extra juice?”
There was something familiar about the twinkle of her eyes as the ski-mask woman stared down the approaching skeleton, but Agent Quantum was in no headspace to place it, even with the aid of her voice.
“In times like these, only one pops to mind, and I can’t think of anything more fitting. The darker the night, the brighter the stars.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than the woman tipped over as she passed completely out, saved from hitting the ground only by Hephaestus’s quick reaction time.
Amidst the madness, Plasmodia paid neither of them any mind. Every ounce of her focus was on the still-advancing form of Alfred. She was letting him draw close, making sure there was no chance the shot could miss, even if it meant she’d be in danger afterward.
“On behalf of the New Science Sentries, the original Science Sentries, the Alliance of Heroic Champions, and everyone else you’ve hurt with your horrible scheme, consider this a message from the bottom of our hearts: Fuck you back to the grave.”
Plasmodia fired, and the entire world exploded in light.
Chapter 122
It had never been like this before. Not anything close. Usually, Chloe felt the power shift around a touch with each new saying, like a mild change in the breeze. Even the ones that impacted her physically, she registered differently than the power itself. This was no breeze, however. It was a tornado, yanking her out of metaphorical Kansas and whipping Chloe through what felt like a dozen different spaces all packed into one.
When she finally stopped, there were no sights to behold. Everything was sensation; she was well past the boundaries of the physical world. There was a shape to this place, a form, even shifting as it was. Mentally groping around, Chloe felt a small divot, a break in what should be. At her touch, words drifted into mind—her own words, in fact, spoken to Hephaestus back in that hallway, when they needed to work on the gauntlet.
This was a mark left from using her power. Wherever she was, it was connected to that ability. As she pondered what it could mean, Chloe also realized something else: the break was shrinking. Self-repairing, soon it would be no more than a memory. Continuing on, Chloe tried to get her bearings, to create a sense of this place. There was no time here, making it impossible to say how long she wandered She only knew that something was leading her forward. It was a peaceful, nearly serene trip... until she reached the edge.
No mere divot this time. Instead, she was at the lip of a crater. Standing there, she could feel her own power flowing into the fracture of reality, reinforcing something much larger and bigger than she was capable of generating on her own. Slowly, Chloe put the puzzle of her situation together. Before, she’d been the one creating the breaks, her own pockets of the world where things functioned differently. This time, she’d stumbled onto someone else’s efforts, and that made for a very different experience.
Today was turning out to be quite the learning opportunity. Not only had she discovered a new use for her abilities, Chloe also learned she wasn’t the only one out there who could create these sorts of effects. Except, whoever had made this one was worlds stronger than her—though, with Nexus’s warning fresh on her mind, it was hard not to wonder if that gap could be closed. Especially considering the other truth she was realizing.
Based on how much was flowing from her into the crater, Chloe had a lot more power than she’d been using, far more than had been leaking out of her last effort. She could feel the connection, and had an intuition that it could be severed when she desired, but Chloe made no attempts to halt the power. Might as well see how much she really had to throw around.
Besides, if this was working as she imagined, then there was no phrase to use where her efforts would bear better fruit. She wouldn’t change the tide of the invasion—that had already been sewn up—but there were still untold smaller fights going on across the planet, countless forces facing dangerous odds, seemingly unbeatable forces. This crater was already a thumb on the cosmic scale. Chloe was just turning that thumb into something a little heftier.
Now it was just a matter of seeing how heavy she could go.
Two-on-one were bad odds, even without an injured leg, something that Dapper Doll tried not to dwell on as she leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding fire from their blasters. She had the advantage in physical power, but the ranged weapons kept forcing her back, scoring minor damage from shrapnel when she wasn’t quick enough. With buildings to her rear, however, room to maneuver was running out.
There was one shot she could think of: do the unexpected, sprint toward them and try to dodge the incoming fire. Absolute lunacy, there was no way she had the dexterity or reflexes to pull off something like that. And yet, in that moment, something in her stirred. A newfound... confidence wasn’t the right word. Certainty. This was the only path forward. She simply had to find a way to make it work.
Hearing the footsteps draw near, Dapper Doll sprang, her feet unexpectedly swift. Whether it was terror or adrenaline, she was faster than she’d ever been before, clocking the movements of her opponents as they aimed their weapons. At the last second, she dropped into a slide, narrowly avoiding the pair of shots that went clear overhead. That got her within swinging distance of the first Wrexwren, just the proximity she was aiming for. A pair of punches sent it reeling; funny, the last one she fought had been a bit tougher, but an upper hand was an upper hand.
One kick to the head put it down to the ground hard, revealing that the other Wrexwren had been drawing a bead on Dapper Doll. That should have been it, end of the line, a shot point-blank into her torso. Except that her instincts had a mind of their own. Rather than duck down like she had before, Dapper Doll used her enhanced strength to push off the ground, leaping into a standing somersault. The Wrexwren shot had been angled low, expecting her to dodge downward, which meant it missed her entirely.
Her move, on the other hand, landed Dapper Doll only steps from the enemy, steps she took quickly, sending the alien down with a few well-placed blows. Scanning the area for more threats, she saw nothing. “Everyone, come on out. Let’s keep moving to the evacuation point.”
Out of nooks and crannies all along the street, civilians appeared, the ones she’d been leading to safety when the pair attacked.
Now that the fight was done, her hands were starting to tingle, the post-battle drain setting in. Moments later came the pain in her leg, the injury exacerbated by all the acrobatics. Dapper Doll was glad for it, though, because moments prior, she hadn’t been expecting to make it through the night. It seemed someone out there was keeping watch over the capes today.
Lodestar was nearing the edge of safe terrain, the limits of what she could wield without substantial risk. With power like this, it was very possible to lose herself, even rooted as she was. Feeling the flood of new energy wash over her, filling her relatively miniscule form with the fundamental forces of the universe, she mentally turned away from the Scralthor and all the fighting.
To hold on in moments like this, the key lay in remembering who Helen truly was. The first faces pained her heart: Mom, Dad, and David. Why did her mind always go to that night, that hill, where they were waiting for her with the telescope? Next came a vision of Mackenzie, trying to hide her tear-stained eyes as Helen awoke in the hospital.
Lodestar began to fly once more, no longer away from the Scralthor, now on a direct course. Helen’s mind flashed ahead, to Faucet Hills on that fateful day she’d been forced to accept and wield the same power that had killed her family. Because the other option had been to standby helpless as Corvix butchered her friends. That was the moment she swore to never be helpless again.
Her shine, already blazing so brightly, only intensified as the memories flew by. After Corvix came Quorum, the loss and gain he simultaneously represented. Faces flitted by fa
ster, friends and people she’d saved, anchors that helped her stay grounded as the world grew enamored with Lodestar. Battles, challenges, enemies, adversaries, one after another they fell, until Fornax.
Ivan’s face swam before her, coated in a red mask, staring in absolute shock that his blow hadn’t sent her spinning back through the air. In fairness, her face had also been a mask of confusion; it had been so long since anyone threw a punch she really felt. From there, it was a chaotic swirl of Fornax and Ivan, sometimes an enemy, sometimes an ally, yet somehow almost always a friend.
New pain filled her as she remembered the way he’d stared up during their final bout, eyes filled with the apology he didn’t know how to voice, fully aware of how much it wounded her to bring their dance to an end. To leave her alone on the top of the mountain once more. It was short-lived, soon replaced by the image of Ivan hanging in the void of space, wielding more power then she’d even known he possessed, holding Orion locked in position. The moment he’d helped her see who it truly was that set their roles in this life. For a fleeting moment, she could hear his voice, reaching through the chasms of time.
Even the Lodestar is allowed to be greedy.
Things grew brighter from there, as did the soaring Lodestar, now on a crash course with the Scralthor and only picking up more speed. At last, she’d reached the foundation of her world, the cornerstone that would not give: images of Penelope’s newly born, scrunched-up, crying face filled Helen’s mind. Fast on its heels were countless memories of holding, teaching, playing, dancing, all with the daughter that was never supposed to be.
The same daughter who was probably watching right now, along with the rest of the world, worrying about what would happen if Lodestar failed. She was counting on the world’s greatest hero, yes, but also on her mother. Without a sun, their world would wither and die, and at the even idea of Penelope suffering, Lodestar drowned all the forces of the universe vying to overwhelm her. This thing, this being—whatever it was—would not yield until it was fed, or beaten.
That fear in Penelope’s heart wasn’t hers alone. It stretched across the entire planet, her planet. It had lingered over all of them for long enough. Lodestar locked her fist in position as she increased her speed, charging toward the otherworldly abomination.
Seemed she needed to remind everyone, cape or villain, alien or human, cosmic beast or god or anybody else that wanted to step up, just who this planet was protected by.
Across the world, countless small fights suddenly turned, the forces seeking to protect gaining ground on those who were after conquest. It wasn’t always enough to shift the tides, but for a great many, that extra bit of speed or oomph in a punch was enough to snatch victory.
In the room with Chloe’s unconscious body, a much more direct contest was occurring. Plasmodia’s beam wasn’t simply hitting Alfred with no effect, like last time. No, this was leagues more powerful, physically driving the near skeleton back, forcing him to raise his hands in defense. A scent of burning bone drifted up from the air, and something gave way, flying off from Alfred. Whatever snapped, he’d had enough, diving out of the shot, which instantly carved through the back wall, opening them up to a view of the outdoors. Plasmodia angled the beam upward as it died out, making sure not to hit anyone below.
The gauntlet fell off her arm in pieces, the entire contraption burned away from the beam’s intensity. That had been everything they had, and then some, but it wasn’t enough. Alfred was still there, rising slowly to his feet. No one moved, because what move was there left to make? That was their final gambit, and it failed.
“You...” He wasn’t beaten, but he also wasn’t the same, twisting toward Plasmodia like a serpent rearing to bite. “This cannot be. I have stood against the Science Sentries countless times, wiped out capes and villains alike, even survived an encounter with Fornax. After all of that, I refuse to believe the first true injury dealt to me came from one of Quantum’s whelps.”
As he spoke, the keen-eyed in the room realized something had changed. On his left hand, the ring finger was now missing. Plasmodia’s beam hadn’t been enough to kill him outright, but she had managed to cause a wound. To his ego more than his body, unfortunately. There was no revelry or humor as he began to stalk directly toward her, hands already extended.
“There’s only one solution. I’ll just have to kill you all and rewrite history. Starting with the one who caused this unacceptable embarrassment.” Suddenly, he wasn’t walking anymore, but rather bolting forward on a direct course with Plasmodia.
It was too fast for almost anyone to act. Even if he’d been at full strength, Agent Quantum couldn’t have caught up in time. Most of the team was still crawling their way out of the debris, and while Hephaestus was at Plasmodia’s side, what kind of aid could be offered? Those bony hands would likely tear through metal just as easily as everything else. There wasn’t even room to dodge as Alfred barreled down on her. Plasmodia merely faced the threat head-on, watching as his arm reared back and struck.
Before it could hit, the arm was slowed by a sudden new obstacle in its way. Presto stood there, strange goggles over his eyes and blood dripping from his stomach where the arm went cleanly through, Alfred’s hand poking out the other side. Shocked, the room was silent, meaning they heard the slight sizzle as Presto leaned forward, grabbing on to Alfred’s forearm, his own flesh burning on contact.
“There’s a funny thing about having a power that can kill you if pushed too hard: that issue only matters when there’s not something you’d die to protect. For as much of a limit as it’s been, the upswing is I’ve got one hell of a single-use trick, and you’re along for the ride, asshole.” Presto sucked in a deep breath, then jerked his head upward, staring past Alfred, into and past the sky, the stolen goggles peering at the dark depths of space.
“One last time, for the people in the cheap seats... Big Finish!”
This was unlike any other time Presto teleported. Normally, he simply vanished, and that was that. On this occasion, be it due to effort, mass being pulled, or overall effect, there was a snap of a moment where the spaces connected. Cold burst forth as air flowed in, a fraction of a nano-second enough to feel the wave of emptiness ripple out from their destination.
The silence that followed felt false. It couldn’t be over, not just like that. But it was.
Plasmodia’s hand was reaching out, grasping at the point where her teammate had been moments prior. “Presto... why...?”
“Not to be indelicate, but the why is pretty obvious. He knew what we all knew: there was no winning this fight.” Hephaestus looked at the still-smoldering hole in the building. While her current system couldn’t see much, the goggles he’d grabbed were capable of far more impressive views, daylight be damned. If Presto had really used enough power to die, then there was no telling how far into the cosmos Alfred had been flung. What was more impressive was that he’d had the presence of mind to grab and test new equipment, then formulate a last-ditch plan, all in the midst of Alfred’s chaos. He’d had a brain with lots of potential, all of which was now lost.
“No.” The voice was near a whimper, and it didn’t come from Plasmodia. Agent Quantum was leaned against a set of wrecked cabinets, tears running down his face as he pressed his working arm’s fist to his forehead. “Damn it, Ike. Damn it.” He swallowed, trying to find some level of composure. “I’m sorry. I should have been better. I should have found a way.”
Emotional a scene as it was, Hephaestus’s perspective afforded her a good view of the sky, which had suddenly grown much brighter. Weirdly, the sun appeared to have shifted position as well, moving at an alarming rate. Except, when Hephaestus checked again—nope, the sun was still in its expected position. Too preoccupied to noticed how Fornax was holding his captive on the livestream, she turned to the others. “Not to undercut the moment, but should we be worried about that?”
Following her pointing finger, Plasmodia looked up as well, damp eyes going suddenly wide in shock
. “Oh my god. It’s just like the Day of Two Stars.”
That name was familiar, something Tori had uncovered in her initial research of Fornax; after all, it was all but impossible to learn about her mentor without also reading the history on his greatest rival. As she recalled, the Day of Two Stars was what some people called the fight with Orion, alleging that Lodestar had blazed so bright, the planet’s two light sources became indistinguishable.
Seeing it for herself, Hephaestus could certainly understand how the nickname had formed. There was something horrifying and humbling to see so much power being wielded that it was literally visible from space. Yet even that paled in comparison to what came seconds later.
With most of the Earth still watching, the sky suddenly shattered.
Chapter 123
The term “Scralthor” was a Wrexwren word without direct translation. To the creature itself, such a combination of noises would have had no meaning. The sharp shrills of smaller beings weren’t even loud enough to be an annoyance. Merely background, like the songs of the stars and the hideous buzz lurking within black holes. It had no concern or thought for them as it swam, gobbling up small morsels on its way to a larger meal. Flashes of light and minor impacts had caught what passed for its eye, but they were no more than minor meteor strikes, impossible to break through its tremendous hide.
As it swam, however, the creature noticed a new sound. Rich, deep, melodic, and loud. Increasing in volume, at that. Shifting its attention, the creature could not believe what its senses were saying. Since being spawned in the flickers of a dying nebula, the being had swum and devoured, devoured and swum. Others of its kind were challengers, an occasional threat, but space was large enough for all to swim.
This was not a challenger. This was not of its kind, nor was it fully of the tiny ones. The song thundered all around, inescapable and undeniable. Power, a power that was far older than the creature or any of its kin, rippling forth like the fabric of the universe could scarcely contain it. While the creature had been alive for time untold, it was still growing, still learning.
