by wildbow
Leviathan was badly injured. Ichor poured from six large wounds that hadn’t been there when he’d arrived on the street.
“You dumb brute,” Armsmaster growled. He was panting for breath. “Every fight you’ve done so far, that we’ve got on camera? I’ve watched it, put it through programs. I’ve got a computer on my back that’s relaying to a supernetwork, noting your every move, using subsonic pulses to read every aspect of the street, the surrounding buildings, every feature of the terrain. I know exactly what you’re going to do next—you’re going to try to catch me from behind with a wave.”
Leviathan lunged, swiped with the oversized claw. Armsmaster rolled to one side, then swung both halberds behind him to intercept the wave that was coming from behind, vaporize it.
“You don’t even speak English, do you? Or you’d know what I was saying, you’d know I already won. The others helped, slowing you down, stopping the waves. But this victory, this killing blow? It’s going to be mine.”
Leviathan lunged, stopped, letting his water echo get ahead of him, then lunged again, a half second later. Armsmaster leaped out of the way of the echo, drew his knees to his chest to avoid a claw swipe while he was still airborne, and sent his grappling hook between Leviathan’s feet to pull himself to the ground in a flash. He skidded with the momentum, right between Leviathan’s legs, and raised the blurry halberd to strike Leviathan between the legs, against the first ten feet of Leviathan’s tail. The tail was turned to dust where the blade made contact, the plumes of it briefly obscuring Armsmaster.
“This cloud around my blade? Nanotechnology. Nano-structures engineered to slide between atoms, sever molecular bonds. Cuts through anything. Everything. Like a sharp knife through air.”
Leviathan whipped his tail at Armsmaster. Armsmaster stepped out of the way, slapped at the tail with the broad side of the blade. More dust, another chunk of flesh gone, ichor pouring from the injury. He ducked the echo as though it were an idle afterthought.
Leviathan turned to run. Armsmaster sent out one blade like a grappling hook, circled the smaller of the Endbringer’s claws with the chain. Leviathan moved, oblivious or uncaring, and Armsmaster waited until the slack was out of the chain, pressed a button.
The chain and halberd ceased moving, and even Leviathan’s strength ceased to move it. Rather than pull away, the Endbringer skidded, fell on his back, wrist still held by the chain.
A half second later, the chain went briefly slack, then rigid again as Armsmaster reeled himself in. He drove the blurry blade straight into Leviathan’s face with all the force of his forward momentum. He pulled it free, slashed again, then freed the chain and used it to pull himself across the street, out of reach of Leviathan’s violent response.
Armsmaster called out, “Let’s see how quickly you respond to classical conditioning. Every time you try to run, I’ll do something like that.”
Leviathan had no reply. He simply climbed to his feet, swiped a claw through the air. Armsmaster parried the afterimage that sailed through the air toward him, using the purple flame.
“For the record, that last trick was a temporal stasis trigger, with thanks owed to the cooperation of a subordinate of mine. Drains my battery reserves, but you don’t understand that, do you?”
Leviathan lunged, and Armsmaster fired out the grappling hook, stopped it in mid air by freezing it in time. Leviathan ran himself through on the chain, the thing spearing deep into his neck and out the back of his torso. Uncaring, the Endbringer continued to charge at Armsmaster.
Armsmaster let the chain go slack, ducked a swipe of the tail, leaped forward and to one side to avoid the claw that followed. Another small hop and roll ensured he moved right beneath the afterimage, and he made two swipes with the blurry halberd at the back of Leviathan’s thighs as he passed behind the Endbringer. His chain reeled in, pulled free of Leviathan’s neck wth a spray of blood, came down and across Leviathan’s hip to snap back to the top of the halberd. He fired it off again to get himself more distance, pulling himself across the street, spinning to face Leviathan once more as he stopped.
He passed one halberd to the other hand, so he held two, wiped some frothing spittle from his mouth with his gauntlet. “I am going to be the one to take your head, abomination. I can only hope you know mortal terror in your last moments, know what you’ve inflicted on so many others.”
Leviathan stood, straighted itself, touched its claw to its ruined face, then its neck. The amount of blood it was losing—it seemed somehow more than Leviathan should have been able to contain within himself. I mean, he was big, but this was a lot of blood.
For several long seconds, Leviathan didn’t move.
“Delaying, buying time for a tsunami?” Armsmaster laughed, and Leviathan cocked his head at the display of emotion. “No. Three point four minutes before the next big wave breaks through the ice. Dragon’s probes are giving me the data on that. This will be over before then.”
He stepped forward, then stepped again, waiting for some cue from Leviathan. On Armsmaster’s third step, Leviathan took a small step back, lashed his tail behind him.
“Finally scared?” Armsmaster taunted. “Good.”
Nausea and pain was welling up in me again as I watched from the corner of the building, under the carport, threatening to override my sense of awe. It was all I could do to keep quiet, keep from distracting Armsmaster, or distracting Leviathan and throwing some wrench in Armsmaster’s data. The last thing I wanted was to become the hostage that made Armsmaster hesitate for the fraction of a second that cost him—cost us all—the fight.
Armsmaster went on an all-out offensive, slashing as fast as his arm could move, cutting leg, knee, tail, leg again, moving out of the way of Leviathan’s attacks as though it were easy. For ten seconds he continued, relentless.
“I should thank you, monster,” Armsmaster spoke, after he’d just finished a backflip that had carried him near enough to Leviathan’s torso to strike the creature across the lower belly.
Leviathan lunged, dropping to all fours, as if trying to swamp Armsmaster with a huge volume of water by way of his afterimage. Armsmaster was already casting his grappling hook out, pulling himself out of the way. In the final moment before he pulled away, his other halberd swung up and into Leviathan’s neck, making a wound mirroring the spot where Narwhal’s forcefield had cleaved deep, the one Kid Win had undoubtedly opened wider with his laser turret. Armsmaster reeled the hook back in.
The Endbringer turned, as if to run, only for the loop of the grappling hook’s chain to pass under his ‘chin’. Armsmaster heaved himself up and onto the Endbringer’s back, drove the halberd into one side of the neck, lengthening the cut he’d just made. He stepped on the top of the Endbringer’s head, leaped down, catching the Endbringer across the face with the halberd as he descended. Leviathan collapsed, going spread-eagle.
Armsmaster slashed at Leviathan’s forearms as the Endbringer started to clmb to his feet. More damage done, though it didn’t stop Leviathan from rising. While Armsmaster pressed the attack, his armband hissed with a message I couldn’t make out. I glanced at mine—still broken.
“This will be over before then,” Armsmaster echoed an eariler statement, speaking more to himself than to the armband or Leviathan.
Leviathan hopped backwards to create some distance, staggered a little as the more injured of his two legs failed to take his weight, used his smaller hand to stop from falling a second time, poising himself on three limbs.
Armsmaster used his grappling hook to haul himself close, readying to make another slash for the neck. He changed his mind as the ground rumbled, pulled the hook free to latch it on a garage door. Countering his forward momentum, he swung himself to one side of the road, staying out of Leviathan’s reach.
The ground rumbled again, brief, intense, stopped.
Armsmaster touched a hand to the side of his visor, and I thought I saw his lips crease in a frown before he turned his head away from me.
Another fierce rumble, and a crack appeared like a seam down the center of the street, a straight line as far as I could see in either direction.
Leviathan raised his claw, and the road suddenly split, heaving upward as a concrete pipe wide enough to fit a man crested from the pavement like a whale rising from the waves. A second later, water gushed forth, veering toward Armsmaster.
The storm sewers.
Armsmaster hesitated, then threw his grappling-hook-halberd forward into the onrushing waves like a javelin. The gush of water froze in time, and he leapt forward, stepping on the furthermost extensions of the immobile spray in a parkour-style ascent over the water and the pipe. The water resumed its regular motion as Armsmaster took his final leaping step off the top, heading straight for Leviathan.
Leviathan moved faster than he had in the last minute, caught the blade in his claw.
Dust rose from the claw as the blade sank deep, blood poured out, but the blade remained fixed in place. Armsmaster tugged, failed to dislodge it. He tried to pull away, but I could see Leviathan had caught onto his hand and wrist with his clawtips, while the halberd sat embedded in his ‘palm’.
“How!?” Armsmaster roared.
I didn’t hesitate a moment in sending out my bugs. Three swarms, shaped like people, more as a general cloud. The bugs all sagged beneath the drenching rain, the ones on top taking the brunt of the downpour.
Leviathan planted one foot beside Armsmaster for balance, reached out with his free claw, and pressed the tips against the side of Armsmaster’s throat and torso. Still holding on to Armsmaster’s hand and wrist, he pushed against the side of the man’s body. Armsmaster screamed, a frantic noise that seemed to redouble in urgency with every breath. He tipped over and fell with a splash.
The Endbringer stood, showing none of the frailty or pain it had been displaying seconds ago. The injuries were there, to be sure, his head hung at an angle because of the way the weight of his head hung on the intact portions of his neck, but he wasn’t suffering, had no trouble putting his full weight on his more injured leg. Had it been an act?
The Endbringer dropped Armsmaster’s arm and halberd, where the weight of the metal armor and device pulled them beneath the water. A lash of his tail dispatched two of my three swarms. He watched, seeming not to care, as the third ran up to him, smashed against his leg. The bugs spreading out, burying themselves deep into his injuries. I was hoping to find some weakness, devour him from the inside out, but the bugs might as well have been biting on steel. Nothing budged beneath their jaws, their stings couldn’t penetrate.
He turned, crouched, bolted west, away from the coast, full speed.
I hurried to Armsmaster’s side.
“You,” he groaned. His left arm was gone at the shoulder, torn out of the socket. Blood poured from the wound. “You’re dead.”
“Hey, you’re not making any sense.”
“He killed you.”
Had my armband announced my death when it glitched out and died? Assumed total destruction of my unit, and me with it?
“I’m alive. Listen, I’m going to try and find your arm, my armband got broken, maybe something got dislodged when Leviathan broke my arm.”
He only groaned unintelligbly in response.
I ran over to the general area where Leviathan had dropped Armsmaster’s arm. I tripped over the crack that ran down the middle of the street, got my feet under me to keep running, and began feeling through the water.
I came within inches of touching the submerged blade, turning my hand to molecular dust.
Finding the arm, I picked it up. Heavy, almost too much to hold in one hand. It wasn’t just the weight of the armor or the fact that it was a muscular, full-grown-man’s limb—the gauntlet had been crushed around the pole of the halberd, crumpled like tinfoil. With the arm and weapon in a bricklayer’s grip that was painful to maintain, I hurried back to Armsmaster’s side, dropped them near him. I shook him, hoping to get him alert, to no avail.
With my only working hand, I pried the halberd free of his glove, rested his arm across his chest, and pressed the button.
“Armsmaster down! CC-7! Leviathan is heading west…”
I felt the bugs I’d clustered in Leviathan’s wounds change direction. The compass point between west and northwest was what? More wests than north.
“Cancel that! He’s going west-northwest from my location!”
My voice echoed back to me in the Armband’s tinny voice a half-second after I’d finished. Armsmaster’s armband changed to display a red dot, tracking Leviathan’s movements, or the closest approximation the system could guess.
“Roger, sounds like he might be heading for one of the shelters, lots of people packed into a space where they can’t run, vulnerable,” someone replied. “Medical help incoming. Whoever this is, you can track Leviathan?”
“Yes, as long as I’m within a few blocks of him.” Again, the system relayed my message. Affirmative. Range restriction of ‘a few blocks’.
Did it really need to reword what I said?
“Can you fly? Chase him?”
“No.” Negative.
“Then I’m sending a flier your way, to ensure you stay close enough. We need eyes on this bastard, and you’re them.”
“Got it!”
There was only silence after that. Teeth clenched, shivering, I pressed my good hand as hard as I could manage against the ragged mess of Armsmaster’s shoulder, trying to slow the blood loss.
Extermination 8.5
Lady Photon and the eighteen year old Laserdream landed beside Armsmaster, making a small splash as they touched down.
You could see the family resemblance. They weren’t supermodel good looking, but they were attractive people, even with their hair wet and plastered to their heads and shoulders by the rain. Both wore costumes with a white base color, had heart shaped faces, full lips and blonde hair. Lady Photon’s costume sported a starburst on her chest, with several of the lines extending around her body, or down her legs, going from indigo to purple as it got further from the center. Her hair was straight, shoulder length, held away from her face by a tiara shaped much like the same starburst image on her chest.
Her daughter had a stylized arrow pointing down and to her right, on her chest, with a half dozen lines trailing behind it, over her left shoulder, one line zig-zagging across the others. The entire design gradually faded from a ruby red to a magenta color in much the same way her mom’s did. Similar rows of lines with the zig-zag overlapping them ran down her legs and arms. She didn’t dye her hair in her ‘color’ like her younger brother did—had, past tense—or wear the tinted sunglasses, but she did wear a ruby red hairband over her wavy hair, to ensure she always had a coquettish sweep of hair in place over one eye, and to pull the magenta, red and white color scheme together.
More than anything else, though, the two of them had the look of people who had seen half their immediate family brutally and senselessly torn apart over the course of one terrible hour. As though they’d had their hearts torn out of their chests and were somehow still standing. It wasn’t that I had seen anyone in those circumstances before, but that look existed, and they had it.
It was painful to look at. It reminded me of when my mom had died. I’d been in a similar state.
Lady Photon—Photon Mom to Brockton Bay residents and the local news media—bent down by Armsmaster. She created a shaped forcefield tight against his shoulder, lifted him with a grunt.
“Take him,” Lady Photon’s voice was strangely hollow, though firm.
“No. I’m a better flier, and more likely to hurt that thing in a fight. I’ll take the girl and help against Leviathan.” Laserdream had a little more life in her voice than her mother did.
The girl. Like I didn’t warrant a name, or it wasn’t worth the effort to remember. A part of me wanted to stand up for myself, a larger part of me knew this wasn’t the time or place.
After a long few seconds of delibe
ration, Lady Photon nodded. She looked like making that decision aged her years.
Laserdream and her mom looked at me. I felt like I should say something. Give condolences? Tell them that their family had died well? I couldn’t think of a way to put it that didn’t tell them something they already knew, or anything that wouldn’t sound horribly offensive or insincere coming from a villain.
“Let’s go get that—” I stopped, both because I suddenly felt that something like motherfucker was too crass, and because I wanted to bend down to pick up Armsmaster’s halberd, the one with the disintegration blade, grabbing the pole of it with my good hand. “Let’s go get him,” I stated, lamely.
It took some doing for Laserdream to lift me without pressing against my broken arm or touching the blade. She wound up holding me with an arm under my knees and the crook of her elbow at my neck. She held the halberd for me. I resigned myself to being cradled—there was no dignified way to be carried. She had morning breath, a strangely mundane thing—she’d likely been woken up at half past six in the morning by the sirens, hadn’t had time to brush her teeth or eat before coming here.
She took off, smooth. It felt like an elevator kicking into motion, except we kept going faster, had the wind in our faces.
My first time flying, if you discounted the experience of riding a mutant dog as it leapt from a building, which was sort of half-flying. It wasn’t half as exhilirating as I’d thought the experience would be. Tainted by the sombre, tense mood, the sting of the rain and the bitter chill that went straight through my damp costume and mask. Each time she adjusted her hold on me, I had to fight that deep primal instinct that told me I was going to fall to my death. She was adjusting her grip a lot, too—she didn’t have superstrength, and I couldn’t have been easy to carry, especially soaking wet.
