I groan, and not just from the faceplant on the floor. I was hoping Epic had gotten an alarm out. Now I know why he didn’t warn me. If the rest of their tech is as good as their guns, then it is unlikely he can counter it.
“Unlock the armor and your friend can live.”
I push my hands flat against the floor and look up at her. I can see in her eyes she has no intention of letting either of us live. The only question is, how smart is she? She didn’t know I’m paralyzed, which means she doesn’t know how I put the armor on… right?
“Go to hell,” I respond.
She slaps me across the face. Lines of fire burn across my cheeks where she hits. Her claws slice through my skin like ribbons. Blood seeps out of the wounds to drop on the floor. Visions of myself in the back of my parents’ car, helpless and alone, assault me. She wraps her hand around my throat and picks me up with one hand like a vise. I cough and wheeze as I try to breathe. I beat against her forearm uselessly. My vision goes red, and then black starts to creep in along the edges. I can’t keep my hands up anymore.
She tosses me backward into my chair and I heave in a huge breath. My throat is raw and my limbs feel like jelly.
“If you won’t do it to save you, then I will just have to slice him open, a piece at a time.”
Her claws whip out as she slashes Carlos across the chest. He cries out. Red blossoms on his now torn shirt.
“Okay,” I cough, “okay, I’ll unlock it. Just… don’t hurt him.”
Carlos shakes his head, tears in his eyes, “Niña, no, she’s just going to kill us anyway,” he spits through clenched teeth.
Good boy Carlos. Either he knows I have a plan or he is really that brave. As I push on my wheels for the control panel she plants a foot on my chair.
“Uh-uh, no tricks. You have to be able to unlock it without being near it. I’m not letting you touch it.”
I feign resignation, “Fine, there’s a biometric reader on my pull-bar. It’s a backup.”
She nods. I wheel my chair over to the bar and raise my hands. The motion sensor in the wall reads my position and automatically lowers the bar.
“Cute, the cripple likes to do pull-ups. Too bad all that upper body strength is of no use to you now.”
I put my hands around the bar and squeeze. The pads trigger the system to rise up. When it is all the way at the top my chair rolls out of the way. I look over at Vixen, understanding dawns on her.
“Epic, initiate.”
They can jam wireless and they can dampen energy fields, but unless they installed sound bafflers he can still hear me. The electromagnetic field I use to keep the pieces in place drops at the same moment my kinetic emitters fling the armor at me. In a half second, I’m fully armored.
Sparks fly across the room as Vixen’s claws catch me in my throat, slipping inside within the microsecond before my kinetic shields go online. My HUD flashes to life. Damn she’s fast.
“Charge everything,” I yell.
I can’t walk without my synthsuit on, I can just twist my upper body. She’s back on me in a second, her claws out for my eyes. The kinetic shields pulse and she slams against them, all her forward momentum halted.
I throw my hand out, palm up at Carlos and his captor. Then I remember Tucson. If these are the same guys, they can somehow channel my pulse cannons to the ground. I fire a shot off at Vixen with my other hand. She dives out of the way as the blue bolt shatters my new TV and part of the wall.
With my right hand, I close my fist and tilt my hand down; targeting springs to life over the man holding Carlos. I don’t have time to call for his surrender. Any second they’re going to threaten to kill him unless I stop. The man reaches for his plasma pistol and I fire. The particle beam lights off, super accelerated atoms burn through the air and the man’s forehead. He falls back, dragging Carlos with him.
Even if I had my synthsuit on, I’m not sure I could take Vixen. Without Epic I can’t use my grenade launcher to catch her, essentially we’re at a stalemate. I can’t shoot her, but she can’t get to me or Carlos. I can see her figuring this out a few seconds behind me. She’s crouched in the corner ready to spring. Her muscles uncoil and she relaxes as she stands.
“I’m leaving,” she states.
“I’m going to find you and I’m going to put you in a hole and throw away the key,” I growl.
“Keep dreaming, cripple.”
She presses something on her wrist. Green light envelopes her and in a half second she’s gone. Vanished. Teleported. Now where have I seen that tech before?
“Carlos? You okay?”
No answer.
“Full sensors,” I order. The rudimentary voice commands I had Epic install seem to be working, even if he can’t communicate with me. They show Carlos’ vitals. He’s alive but unconscious.
Great. I can’t walk, my face is bleeding, and my best friend is out cold. It’s going to be a long night.
21
I ended up having to wait all night. Whatever they used to jam the signal, it worked. I left my ECM on to see if I could get a signal out; nothing. I couldn’t even sit down or I would fall over. I had to stand there, for seven hours. Thankfully the servos in my legs and hips don’t move easily. I wouldn’t fall over, but I wouldn’t be resting.
Kate arrived first, just before seven AM. I swear, the woman complains about me being a work-a-holic, yet here she is at the crack of dawn to do PR stuff. As soon as she is within thirty feet of me I know she can feel my emotions. There’s a pop and she’s next to me.
“Oh my God, Amelia, are you okay?”
“It’s about damn time,” I reply.
Thirty minutes later I’m sitting in the first-floor conference room, still in my armor, with my back propped against the wall. I don’t want out of it. Not until everyone is gone. I don’t want the police arresting me and leaving my armor unguarded. All of this leaves me sitting where she left me, in the conference room with four of Phoenix’s finest while they decide if it was self-defense, or if I’m a Particle Beam serial killer. They can’t see my face, they don’t know I’m wounded. An ambulance took Carlos out of here, they think he has a concussion, which is why he didn’t wake up. The EMT said he’ll need stitched but otherwise will be fine. He better be okay or I am going to burn Vixen to the ground.
The four uniformed officers, three men and a woman, all look between excited and nervous. I can’t handle the silence anymore.
“How long have you all been on the force?” I ask not knowing what else to say.
The program Epic wrote lets me speak with my normal synthesized voice.
“We’re not really supposed to talk to you,” the woman says, her name tag reads Marino.
“Really? Come on, despite what it might seem like, my suit isn’t a lot of fun to be in. I haven’t figured out how to put food and water in it. I’m exhausted, but sleeping is impossible inside this thing. Cut me some slack and talk to me.”
It’s all true, no lies here. I’m exhausted. I would sleep if I could, but I can’t.
“What was it like, you know, to fly up with the nuke?” One of the men asks.
“My brother is in State Police, did you really get hit by an anti-tank weapon in the mountains?” Marino asks.
“All good questions. The nuke sucked. I’m sure you all have had moments where you thought you were going to die? Well, it was mine. I don’t know about the anti-tank weapons—they had fifty-cals loaded with armor piercing rounds, does that count?”
“Holy cow. Yeah. I was in the Army, and AP rounds on a fifty will penetrate a lot of armor, including some tanks,” the one standing by the door says.
He has a similar look to Luke, except smaller, more compact, and not nearly as handsome.
“Thank you, officers, you can go,” a man in a cheap suit says as he walks in.
He’s older, maybe in his 40’s, with some slight graying around his temple. From his shape, he looks like he could stand to work out more. He has no trace of an ac
cent, even though he looks Hispanic.
The officers all nod. They shuffle out of the room with a couple of smiles for me.
“Based on the weapon you described, and the telemetry from the building's security, we’re going to preliminarily rule this self-defense. Now Ms…?”
“Arsenal,” I say, “Ms. Arsenal if you must.”
He gives me the deadpan stare.
“This is a potential homicide investigation. I don’t have time for your games—”
“You just said it was self-defense?” I ask.
There goes my mouth again.
“The initial ruling is self-defense, but new evidence could always come to light. Now, your name?”
“Arsenal.”
He’s really irritated now. If he thinks I’m putting my name in the public domain, he’s crazy.
“Officer…?”
“Detective,” he growls.
“Detective, Arizona state law, and the US Supreme Court backs this up, my name doesn’t go public as long as one named member of a team does have the information. In other words… You. Don’t. Get. To. Know. Who. I. Am.”
The pencil in his hand snaps and he lurches to his feet.
“This isn’t over. If I find one shred of evidence you murdered these men I will have you in cuffs so fast it will make your head spin.”’
I hold out my arms. Of course, I can’t put the wrists anywhere near together.
“By all means, slap away.”
He jabs his fingers at me, “All you heroes think you’re above the law. We have ways of dealing with you.”
He spins and storms out. I throw a mock Nazi salute in his direction. Jerk. My HUD flickers for a second as Epic connects with it.
I’m detecting severe lacerations to your face and elevated respiratory distress. Do you need ems?
“I need to get out of the armor. Can you connect me to Kate?”
He doesn’t respond, but her voice is in my ear a half second later.
“You okay?”
“I really need to get out of this and see a doctor.”
A second later she pops into existence in front of me. She switched to her work clothes before the police arrived; she’s wearing her form-fitting black catsuit with all her gadgets, minus the weapons, and her ID is clipped to her chest to show the police she really does work here.
“Let’s get you upstairs.”
Two hours later I’m sitting in the private wing of Valley Hospital. They don’t know who I am, but the company’s insurance covers all wounds and injuries sustained while on duty or on property. Good insurance too, I don’t even need a co-pay.
The doctor is busy making hmm noises as he stitches up the four cuts on my face.
“It looks really painful,” Kate says.
She’s back in her civvies.
“It isn’t.”
“But it—”
“The blades were razor sharp,” I glance at her, “they barely even sting. I’m just glad it was my face and not my legs, that can be dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” she asks.
“Yeah, I can hurt myself and not know it. Not feeling pain doesn’t mean I won’t get infections.”
“You should be more careful Ms. Lockheart. You are correct, though; the razors were extremely sharp. Any deeper and you would need surgery. As it is, if you wear the bandage the nurse will apply, keep it clean and dry, there should be minimal scarring.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
He leaves the room. My emotional and physical strength is all but sapped. Suddenly, Kate is there engulfing me in a hug.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says.
“Me, too. Is Carlos better?”
She lets go and looks me in the eye, her hands stay on my shoulders. Either she is using her whammy on me, or I am feeling better naturally. At this point, I don’t care which.
“He’s fine. Full recovery and already home.”
“He’s going to be disappointed he didn’t see you.”
She shrugs.
“Sounds like he stood up bravely. I might have to drop by his house and thank him.”
I laughed. If she went to visit Carlos he would about die.
22
Oh how I hate monitor duty. Until the bandage is off my face I am to avoid excessive stress. Which means no armor and no patrol. Which puts everyone else on patrol shifts while I sit in our command room and listen for trouble. I told Luke I could easily program an algorithm to do this and he said, “It’s our duty to be there for one another.”
Whatever. I could also do this from my room while I worked on my armor. He said I would be too distracted. I hate it when he’s right. I get we can’t trust Central, but why can’t we hire someone to do this full time instead of taking a person out of the field? Granted, I would be out regardless, but in general? It doesn’t make any sense. I haven’t seen the budget, though. It’s possible there isn’t room for one. Hmm, I suppose a certain company with a planetary sounding name could donate a few full-time people. I’m sure there are plenty of qualified 9-1-1 operators who wouldn’t mind a pay raise and full benefits. I make a note of that for later.
I add it to my long, long list of things which don’t make sense. Like, why we haven’t been assigned any new recruits from the national pool? I decided I would be a little proactive; Luke is always complaining, though not loudly, that I don’t do enough extracurricular for the team. Surely, he can’t complain about me checking the available heroes and maybe even sending in a request?
The problem, of course, is Category-7. All the hardware is theirs. Donated to the teams nationwide, along with buildings, materials, etc. They’re a Fortune fifteen company, they have a long track record of being pro-meta, and as far as I can tell, are clean as a whistle. Other than them denying any involvement in my parents’ disappearance, they seem legit. They have tech that shouldn’t exist, but they’re clean.
How do I do look into them without them tracking my every move? By not using their computers. This is why I’ve brought my own little mainframe down with me from upstairs. It’s the size of a game console, has its own built-in liquid cooling, and can run circles around anything commercially available. I even built a virtual interface for it. Once I have it installed I power it on. Since I absolutely despise blinking lights, the only way to know it is on is by the slight hum. Next, I put my glasses on. They look like standard safety glasses. It was the best I could do on short notice. The world of the computers comes alive in front of me.
This is going to be good.
Now, I’m no hacker; I do have a pretty good understanding of how things work. Also, I’m plugged into a port inside the company’s firewall. Technically, I’m not hacking anything.
Okay, “Epic, let’s manufacture an ID. Bring up a list of their admins… Let’s go with Assistant Sys Admin Richard West, he looks like a nice fellow. Sorry, Richard, but I’m sure they will figure out it wasn’t you.”
Epic responds in my field of vision: Affirmative.
It takes me all of ten minutes to crack their system and I’m in. Now to pull up the database… ah. Perfect.
Wow. There are hundreds of candidates? I quickly check the roster of the nineteen state teams. All of them are understaffed. It can’t be the budget, hell they barely pay me a living wage to do this. It’s no wonder everyone who can earn extra money does.
“Arsenal, are you monitoring the fire on the east side?” Luke asks in my ear.
Crap. No, I’m not.
“Uh, yeah, let me give you an update.”
“Epic!”
Four-Alarm fire on the 38th block of East Indian road. A propane hauler lost control and tipped over, knocking down a telephone pole. The truck exploded from the pressure build up and now the three buildings closest are on fire.
I relay it to Luke word-for-word.
“Have they asked for assistance?”
I check the log. No, they haven’t. I’m not sure what good Luke or Domino would be, but Mr. Perfect can
do a lot with his constructs. The thought briefly enters my mind before I’m typing away, manufacturing a PFD request for Diamondback assistance, I throw Mr. Perfect’s name on there specifically.
“It just came in. They’re asking for any and all assistance, specifically if Mr. Perfect can come,” I lie like a champ.
Maybe this monitor duty thing isn’t so bad.
“They asked for me by name?” Perfect interjects.
Crap, maybe they don’t do that?
“Uh yeah, they say you can use your fancy magic to contain and extinguish flames,” I reply.
“I never considered doing it before, but yeah, it should work. Let them know I’m on my way!”
He sounds happy. I switch freqs to PFD and open the mic.
“Incident Commander 38th block, Diamondback assistance is inbound. He says he can contain any hot spots you have.”
The voice which responds is gruff and hurried, “We could use all the help we can get. Have him report to Chief Gomez.”
I relay that little tidbit to Perfect. All in a day’s work for Amelia Lockheart, dispatcher.
It quiets down and I can return to my real job. If I could put my feet up on the desk I would. The Category-7 database is full of potentials; most are untrained and underpowered.
Ooh, a guy who can talk to fish… like that would ever come in handy. Here’s another useless one. He can levitate. That’s it. Nothing else, just levitate himself a foot off the ground. I don’t know what would be worse: not having super-powers or having them and they end up being useless. I’m surprised at so many F1’s applying for positions on the teams. They have to know it is a long shot.
What we really need is a TK, like Harper, or a Telepath. Scratch that, no telepathy. I don’t need anyone sifting through my—
Oh wow. This guy, we need him. Tony Shaw, aka Fleet. His parents emigrated here from China and he was born in Boston. Oh I’m going to love his accent! He can run at five hundred and fifty miles per hour? I do the math; at top speed he can cover eight hundred feet in one second. Wow. How is he not recruited? His other powers are all secondary to his running; he generates a frictionless field while he’s moving, it extends a half inch around him. He also can turn sharp corners going as fast as three-hundred miles per hour.
Full Metal Superhero Box Set [Books 1-6] Page 11
