Full Metal Superhero Box Set [Books 1-6]

by Haskell, Jeffery H.

  “This had to cost an arm and a leg,” I say as I spin my chair three-sixty to look around.

  “Yes, but you’re worth it.” She walks over to the TV and flips it on. She glances to make sure the door is shut before she speaks, “Epic, show her.”

  “Wait, what? Are you colluding with my AI to keep secrets from me?”

  “Not, exactly,” she replies as the TV fills with footage. It’s the fight in Las Vegas. It’s split screen and there are several different camera angles. Some look professional, others like cell phone footage.

  “On any given day,” a voice in the background says, “there are twenty-five superhuman events in the United States.” I realize the voice belongs to the broadcaster, the one who does the show on Sundays, but I can’t remember his name.

  “Superhumans who break the law, who use their miraculous gifts for petty, selfish reasons, are often labeled supervillains. A child’s name for a very, very dangerous breed of criminal. Perhaps criminal is no longer the right word.”

  The audio from the cameras picks up. There’s scuffling and screaming. I can hear Luke and Danger fighting it out and he screams at me for help. I turn, and I look so much more casual than I felt. My grenade launcher flips over my shoulder and fires. Danger lifts off and starts his maniacal laugh.

  “He’s in the supermax, right?” I ask in a whisper.

  Kate nods, “Shh, this is the best part.”

  I lived it, I’m not sure I would call this the best part.

  “Oh my God,” someone screams, “he’s going to explode!”

  I didn’t realize he was already glowing when I hit him. I can see the pod smack him and then I’m on him. My thrusters roar as I drive him up into the atmosphere. All the cameras drop away but one. Someone must have had a super-telephoto lens to track me.

  “There are other people with powers. We call them capes, tights, and yes, superheroes. They use their powers to protect, to defend—”

  The camera is still following me up. He’s zoomed in, but I am a tiny figure on the screen, more of a shadow from Appleman's glowing figure.

  “These heroes fight for us, they die for us, and they do it without hesitation. We don’t always know who they are, but we know what they are.”

  I can see my thrusters cut out. I shiver from the memory. I didn’t really have time to think I was going to die when it happened. I was surprised when I woke up.

  The sky lights up, first in brilliant white then it morphs to orange as the mushroom cloud takes shape. The camera is still tracking me. The suit is easily visible against the thermal radiation shining down. Had he detonated a few seconds sooner—

  “The experts best guess based on energy signature and the size of the event, is over three million dead. This armored hero risked her life to save the city of Las Vegas.”

  I’m still falling. My stomach goes all queasy on me. All I remember is the power going out and a few seconds later I blacked out. No kinetic shielding, no inertial protection.

  “The Arizona State Militia, codename Diamondbacks, saved the city. They fought against powerful and ruthless terrorists.”

  A shot of Foehunter cutting down three people in a blink of an eye before slicing up Mr. Perfect.

  “For Major Force, Domino, Mr. Perfect, and their newest member, Arsenal, this is what they do.”

  There’s a picture of all of us. I turn and hide my face, I can’t stop myself from sweating. The photo is of me taunting Foehunter after he broke his hand on my armor.

  “The city of Las Vegas hails you, the State of Nevada thanks you, and the people of the United States of America salute you.”

  Kate mercifully shuts the TV off before I have to see anymore.

  “You’re a certified national hero! What do you think of that?” She’s all smiles and shining teeth.

  I grab the trash can next to the couch and I hurl my guts into it. “You can take some time off if you want,” Kate says to me. This sounds very familiar. On top of doing the PR and the marketing for the team, she also runs the schedule and the day to day operations. As far as I can tell, she runs everything but the combat operations. Luke has those because of his time in the Marines. I like the guy… well, dislike him less, especially since he’s been nice to me, but he isn’t the most rational, clear-headed human being when the fight starts. His powers amp up with adrenaline and he becomes a fighting machine running on instinct.

  “Kate, I have. I’ve been working in the lab nonstop since you moved me. Three weeks of R&D is enough, even for me.”

  I wipe my mouth with a paper towel as she takes the trash from me and pulls the bag.

  Her face screws up, “You staying up until three in the morning working on your armor every night isn’t time off.”

  I jerk my face away from the diagnostic screen I’m watching, “Are you spying on me?” Crap, I should have known…

  “What? No,” she starts laughing. My visage softens a little, sometimes my paranoia gets the better of me.

  “I just know how you operate.”

  I nod. Epic signals me he’s done— the suit checks out. What I’m not telling Kate is why I’m eager to get out there. I cracked the code and now have a shiny new Zero-Point Field Module installed where my lateral power cell used to go. I’ve run the numbers on what it can generate, but there is a difference between what you think something will do, and what it will actually do. Theoretically, any size field can produce unlimited energy. However, the energy has to go somewhere. My ZPFM is the size of a D-cell battery. More than I need to power the suit, but not too much more. If I tried to make it any bigger I would have to upgrade the suits cooling systems. They’re embedded and it would require practically all new armor.

  Not that I’m not already designing it. I just am not ready to go to MKII—yet. The extra power has also let me upgrade a few things on my wish list. None of which I can test unless Kate lets me back in the field.

  “I appreciate your concern, honestly I do, but the best thing for me is to get back out there.” I punctuate it by shaking my fist in the air.

  She looks at me with her green eyes as if she’s trying to read my mind. If she can she’s kept it a good secret.

  “She’s not wrong,” Luke’s baritone kicks in.

  “You could knock,” I say sharper than I mean. He shrinks back a little. Dammit, it’s not like the door wasn’t open.

  “Sorry,” he says quietly, “But you are right. We need her out there. Since the incident, we’re getting a lot of reports of increased activity here. Central says the Riot Boys are moving this way. Pierre says his contacts are whispering about a new super-powered crew coming up from south of the border.”

  “We’re forbidden from border security,” Kate says.

  I didn’t know that. There are a lot of rules governing how the team can be used. They—we—aren’t allowed to aid the police unless specifically requested by civilian authorities. Usually, we’re good to go by checking with the officer in charge of a crime, but for the big ones, it has to be the city or the county’s top cop. We can’t serve in military actions, and we can’t deploy in riots or civil unrest unless it is to aid in evacuation or relief. I think the biggest deployment the Southwestern heroes usually see is in the fall during fire season.

  “Why would the incident affect our powered criminal activity?” I ask.

  Kate answers, “You announced yourself by saving one of the most popular cities on the planet. There is a certain kind of individual who will want to test you. See if they can break you. Some people need to know they’re the most powerful kid on the block.”

  “So, like elementary school?”

  “More like High School,” Luke says.

  “Fifth grade is the last one I attended,” I shrug, “Well then, it’s a good thing I upgraded the armor.”

  “Oh?” Kate asks. I smile, I will let it be a surprise. When I don’t answer she smirks, “Fine then. You want back, you’re on patrol in twenty, south-side route. Happy?”

&nb
sp; I grin, “Very much so. Now, both of you out, I need some privacy to change.”

  Kate pushes me as she walks past, Luke just stares at me as if he wants to say something. He leaves before he musters the courage.

  “Epic, seal the room.”

  The lights dim, reinforced shutters slide down over every window and the door magnetically locks. I’m pretty sure Luke could rip it out of the wall, but it’s more for privacy than anything else.

  Then I wheel myself over to the position marked on the floor. I don’t know why I don’t switch to a full electric chair; I imagine I could program it to do a lot of cool things. But it would be me giving up another bit of freedom. I already can’t use my legs; I don’t want to quit using my arms. It’s enough that it wheels itself to me once I’ve taken the armor off.

  When I’m in position the pull bar lowers down. I quickly unbutton my top and discard it. I was secretly hoping I could go out today, which is why I’m wearing my synthsuit under my clothes. My jeans are a little harder to remove and it leaves me panting from the effort. Once I’m down to just my black one-piece suit I reach up and grab the bar. It slowly pulls me up until I’m extended with my feet hanging an inch from the hardwood floor.

  “Initiate!”

  18

  “You have to be kidding me? A website? About me?” I ask.

  It’s hard to believe. Kate is talking to me over the comms; she’s on monitor duty back at HQ. She’s the first choice for it since she can teleport in as backup. Her powers are more interesting every day. If she’s teleporting herself, she can only go a few miles. If she’s using her empathic abilities to lock onto someone, she can teleport across the world. To do it she needs to have spent a good deal of time with her target. She did it for me because we clicked right away. She says it is all about her emotional connection with a person.

  “Seriously, I’m sending Epic the address.”

  Http://fullmetalsuperhero.com

  “Pull it up.”

  Currently, I’m flying a half mile above South Mountain Park—if you could call endless tracks of scrub brush and proto desert a park—trying to avoid the air traffic landing at Sky Harbor. I made the mistake of not checking in with traffic control and their shift manager ripped me a new one for a good five minutes. I get the feeling they don’t like flying heroes. Especially ones who they can’t see on their radar.

  The bottom corner of my HUD is replaced with the front page. The web page has me on it—by me I mean Arsenal. It’s a beautiful pic; I’m not sure who took it. I know exactly where it was taken. I’m crouched on the ground, one hand flat against the concrete and the other balled in a fist. It is the second before I lift off after Deadman shot me. Thinking about it makes me nauseous so I try not to. I can even see the scratch on my faceplate.

  There’s more than the one. Hundreds of them. Blurbs about me. Testimonials from people who were in Vegas when it happened. Wow. I didn’t realize how many people were at ground zero.

  “This is pretty cool,” I tell her.

  “Listen, the company is sending a PR guy down here, he wants you to do some interviews, maybe pose for some detailed shots. They even want you to speak with the toy division. It could be a lot of extra money for you.”

  Last I looked I was worth twenty-one million dollars. Money isn’t a priority, but I can’t tell her that.

  “Maybe. We’ll see. Close the page Epic.”

  The window disappears and I resume looking down at the shrub-covered hills. My ECM master alarm flips on and I hear a tracking tone.

  Infrared tracking.

  “Flares!”

  I see him, he’s ahead of me and twenty-five hundred feet down holding a shoulder-launched surface-to-air missile. The little puff of smoke tells me it has fired, and I see the exhaust as it burns toward me. Fast isn’t even the right word. I throw my hands up to reverse course as Epic launches a hundred micro-flares from the sides of my legs.

  I go from one-twenty to hover in three seconds. The flares keep going and the missile tracks them. The explosion peppers me with debris.

  “Some idiot fired a—”

  Stinger missile.

  “—Stinger at me. Can I beat him up?”

  “You have permission to engage, don’t kill anyone. Perfect is two miles away and I’m rerouting him as backup. If you need me I can be there in a wink.”

  “Roger. Don’t come. If they’re lobbing missiles at me you won’t be able to take a hit. Epic, can you see the fool?”

  The little ridge the man stood on is empty. I drop down to a hundred feet and re-engage my forward thrust. At this altitude, his missile won’t have time to arm before it hits me.

  “No time like the present to test the ZPFM. Charge IP cannons, full. Charge particle beam, full. Kinetic shields to max.”

  The HUD switches from light green to the angry red of combat. It also dims for a second as power is siphoned off to load up all my systems at the same time. I hold my breath for a heartbeat. If it’s going to fail, better I know now. It doesn’t. All my systems flash ready at full power. Awesome.

  There’s a ridge up ahead and I come around it, moving slowly. I don’t want to blunder into a trap.

  Of course, waltzing into a trap isn’t any better. There are three pick-up trucks parked with their beds facing me. Each one has what Epic identifies as a .50 caliber machine gun mounted in the back. At least thirty men are scattered around the vehicles with assault rifles. Mostly AK47’s and variants, a few AR15’s, and one H&K. Good for him, be individual like that.

  They all open fire at once. There are so many impacts Epic is forced to stop tracking them. I cut my thrusters and land on the ground. The roar of the weapons fire is deafening, I can even hear it through my dampened helmet. I stand up and do nothing.

  This is perfect. I couldn’t find a better test for the ZPFM. The last time someone shot me with a fifty-cal it went right through my kinetic shielding. I watch as hundreds of rounds of ammo come to a screaming halt and fall out of the air to land harmlessly on the ground in front of me. The reading on my kinetic shield flickers between 100% and 99%.

  Every round is loaded with tungsten penetrators. It is likely the fifty-cals could penetrate the thinner parts of the armor. Epic informs me.

  This again. As suddenly as it started, the gunfire ends, followed by a clatter of magazines falling to the ground and men reloading. The fifties are belt fed and each truck has two men in it. One is holding the breech open, the other is loading a belt.

  “I don’t know what I did to piss you fellas off but… would it help if I said I’m sorry?”

  My synthesized voice is more than loud enough to carry, but after their hailstorm of bullets, I can only imagine they’re all deaf.

  Okay, I offered an apology. I walk forward. I could use my IP cannons but I have other shiny new things I want to—

  The explosion catches me off guard and the wall of compressed air sends me flying. The shrapnel falls harmlessly to the ground, stopped by the shields. However, the concussion is transmitted through the air, my kinetic shields can’t stop it. Okay, enough of this.

  From on my butt, I put my hands in front of me with my palms facing out.

  “Maximum angle—fire.” The Ionic Pulse cannon discharge their energy and the blue bolts fly forth striking a half dozen men. Even at wide angle, they are thrown back a good ten feet to convulse on the ground.

  Another grenade goes off. My kinetic field is holding at seventy percent, which is damned impressive after being hit by two grenades. It climbs toward a hundred faster than I can count.

  “Epic, track and pod the grenade launcher.”

  The puff of my own launcher goes off and I hear a man swear in Spanish as he lifts off the ground. He wasn’t moving in any direction; the pod takes him straight up.

  The fifties are done reloading as I stand back up. They roar to life along with the remaining rifles. Even under the devastating assault, my kinetic shield manages to only lose ground slowly. Maybe if
they sustained it for half an hour it would quit out.

  “Particle beam, safety off.”

  I make a fist and point my wrist at the furthest left vehicle. I have to be careful not to hit anyone. Like good little black-ops monkeys they are fairly spread out and none of them are using the trucks for cover.

  I hate myself for Tucson, for having to kill anyone, but they made their choice. I’ll do my best not to kill but I can’t be responsible for other people’s actions. I flex my right fist and a thick blue beam of swirling particles rips through the air, cutting the bed of the trucks at a downward angle. I move my arm to the right, dragging the blue across all three trucks. The beam shuts off and the back of the trucks slide apart where I cleanly cut them in half. The fifty cals stop firing as the barrels point down to the ground.

  “Pod the guys in the trucks,” I say.

  Epic responds with the puff puff of my launcher. He bags all of them in less than two seconds. It leaves me with one pod and fourteen people. My cannons are charged again. I fire, bringing it down to seven. Unlucky for them they’re still firing at me. I kick in my thrusters and barrel into two, knocking them to the ground.

  The remaining five, sensing it wouldn’t be wise to shoot at such a close range, whip out machetes and bats and charge me. I hold my palms out and soon as they come within the cone, I fire. The sandpaper roar of my canons flattens all of them to the ground. The only thing they do is moan as their bodies spasm from the energy wreaking havoc with their nervous system.

  “Domino, who do we call when a small army attacks us with military grade hardware?”

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I can’t say the same for them. No casualties as far as I know.”

  “State police is en route. Are you saying there isn’t anyone with powers?” she asks.

  “Yep. Unless their power is stupidity, in which case I have about thirty of them.”

  19