by S. J. Delos
I was a hero, right? Heroes save people. They don’t let them die.
“What’s it going to be, Crushette? This old fart, who’s seen better days? Or will it be the four brats and the bitch?” He glanced over to the kids, to me, then back again. “What the hell?”
I risked looking away. Miss Danvers was still unconscious on the floor. But the number of her charges was now three. A heartbeat later, another kid blinked away, leaving only two.
Bless you, Zip!
“Fuck!” Carbonado roared. Then I watched, horror-stricken, as he shoved four pointed talons right through George’s chest. The heavy material of the officer’s vest parted beneath the needle-like fingers. A stream of crimson liquid jetted free from the newly-formed holes.
George screamed, as did the one kid still cowering behind me. However, his shrill little voice stopped being a part of the cry about a half second after it started.
Carbonado pulled his fingers free from George’s torso. He wagged them at me, flinging the blood of my friend all around, splattering a replica of King Tut’s mask. The arm holding his victim snapped back, sending the injured officer sailing across the room. George’s hit the wall near the doorway and landed on the floor with a thud that sounded hollow, like a pile of rotten wood.
“That was way more satisfying than expected,” Carbonado said as he shook his head at me. “It must be rough to be your friend, Crushette.”
Then the most magical words imaginable appeared in my ear, carried on the voice of the hyperactive speedster.
“Everyone’s out, Kayo. It’s clear.”
The red haze creeping into my vision when Carbonado stabbed George turned a brilliant crimson. My heartbeat throbbed in my head, drowning out all sound. My thoughts smothered anything not related to the beating I was about to deliver.
I flung the piece of ceiling away, not giving the slightest concern about damaging anything valuable. Instead, I focused my entire attention on the enemy in front of me.
I don’t know if it was the look on my face or the hardness in my eyes, but the smile faded from Carbonado’s face. He took a slow step toward the gaping hole in the wall behind him, holding up both hands.
“Okay, Crushette. Let’s just … you know, hold on a second.” The arrogance banded about while I was preoccupied with keeping the kids safe was on sabbatical, fear having moved into the vacancy. I could hear the shake in his voice. It was the sound of someone who has just realized that their time on the mountain’s peak was over, and there was a hard fall on its way.
My rage blossomed into a conflagration of the type not experienced in years. It wasn’t fueled by Carbonado’s actions alone. Everything from the past week acted like a barrel of high octane. My hands curled into tight little fists.
He opened his mouth, hands still up defensively, but I was done listening to his bullshit. I launched myself at him, rocketing across the space between us like a bullet. My shoulder hit him in the midsection, lifting his diamond-hard form off the floor. Momentum carried us through the opening back outside.
Carbonado managed to get in one good hit across my back, but the blow didn’t have a chance in hell of breaking through my anger. We hit the street, skidding several feet, with me on top. The asphalt, already damaged by the fighting, ripped easily under us. The second we stopped, I scrambled up to straddle his chest, both of my knees pinning his arms to the street.
Since I no longer call on my remarkable density to hold his limbs in place, I employed a technique recently developed: reverse flying. Basically, instead of willing myself up, which is what I normally did, I forced myself down.
Carbonado wiggled beneath me, trying to get up. However, I already decided he wasn’t getting back up, not without medical assistance. I planted one hand on the center of his chest, drawing back the other arm.
“Please, Crushe—”
I brought my fist down to connect squarely with the gleaming black shape that was his nose.
“You talk like you’re something else, Carbonado,” I spat, seeing nothing but rage. “You know that? Like you’re bigger, meaner, and tougher than anyone else around.” I punched him again. Harder. “But you’re not the top of the food chain, my friend. Oh no, not even close.” I slammed my fist home again. “A-Lister? On par with Doctor Maniac? I kind of doubt that.”
I slammed another blow into his face, this time right below his left eye. A sliver of onyx crystal snapped off, sailing through the air between us.
“S-stop,” he groaned, trying to get his hands free to protect himself. But there was no refuge to be found from my fury. No safe harbor from Hurricane Kayo.
“At most, you’re a second-rate goon,” I said, as another piece of him broke off. “But then you’ve decided to get on my really bad side, after you’ve hurt someone I actually give a damn about, you’re going to learn that being second best just...”
My fist came down three more times, punctuating each word.
“...ain’t...” WHAM!
“...good...” WHAM!
“...enough!” WHAM!
The last blow opened a half inch fissure that ran from the side of his jaw up along his cheekbone. A gurgled moan that sounded a lot like “Please” came from his stony lips.
I drew back my arm, this time with the honest intention of seeing if I could really remove his head from his shoulders. Before I could deliver the blow, another hand wrapped its fingers around my wrist, holding tight.
I whipped my head around, teeth bared in a snarl at the fact that someone dared to intrude on my delivering righteous justice. Greg’s stare was hard, full of disappointment.
“That’s enough, Kayo. He’s beaten.”
I growled, looking from my teammate to the moaning chunk of diamond beneath me. In addition to the large crack on his cheek, there were dozens of micro-fractures running all over his face. The same face who smiled as he killed George.
If Manpower didn’t continue to hold me back, I would probably hit him again.
I looked between the two for a few minutes, then I yanked my arm out of Greg’s grip. My heartbeat was still pounding in my ears, and the little throb of pain in my knuckles sang a sweet melody that reminded me of how good it felt to completely cut loose on a foe.
Heaven help me, I wanted to hit something else. Or someone else.
“It’s over, Karen. Stand down.” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “Everyone is watching.”
I glanced around at the crowds behind the EAPF barricades. The faces not obscured by cameras were looking at me with expressions of shock. Not surprising, really. What they witnessed wasn’t a battle between a good and evil. They’d watched someone who was supposed to protect them beating mercilessly on a seemingly helpless opponent until someone else intervened.
What kind of hero did that?
All of my anger drained away, replaced by pain and exhaustion. I sighed, then climbed off Carbonado’s chest. The subdued villain groaned again, but remained lying on the street.
“Karen…” Manpower said, but I just shook my head before he could finish.
“I’m going home,” I mumbled, rising slowly into the air. I closed my eyes, unable to look down at him or the assembled public.
Then I flew away, like a fleeing criminal.
CHAPTER 10:
COLLATERAL FALLOUT
The post-battle debrief was divided into two sessions. Once everyone made it back to the base (I arrived first to wander aimlessly around the place until I heard the hangar doors opening), Richard and Greg announced that we were going to have a quick meeting as a team, but that Greg wanted to speak with each of us individually afterward.
I filed into the room last, trying not to look at the faces of my friends and teammates. However, it felt as if they were probably seeing me in a whole new light.
Of the assembled group, only Darla had seen my villainous side in action, so she was most likely the least surprised about my behavior. But even she never witnessed the effect of my anger gaining cont
rol of me.
I took my seat, staring at the table as Greg began the meeting with a positive assessment.
“To start, I must commend all of you for working as a cohesive unit. This was our first outing as a complete team, and I think that our two newest members performed admirably. You all covered each other’s asses. Which is how you get the job done.”
“Yes. Excellent job, Sonya and Joey,” Richard chimed in. “You both did an awesome job.”
“Really?” Zip sputtered. “Imeanreallyreallyreally?Wowthanks!”
“Thank you,” Sonya said. “It wasn’t an easy fight for any of us.” Something in her voice brought my face up from the polished surface to look at her. She returned the gaze, glowing eyes seeming to broadcast understanding along with the photons. Her head tilted slightly in a nod.
“No,” Greg continued. “It wasn’t. There are some particulars that will need to be addressed. I saw some things that need a little work so we can function even better next time.”
“Do we have a casualty count?” Alexis asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Greg picked up the tablet in front of him, swiping his finger across the screen. “Let’s see. Twenty-three InBees were injured. All but six were treated and released on-scene. The condition of the half-dozen who were taken to the hospital is unknown.” He swiped his finger again. “Eighteen EAPF officers were injured, most of them during the exchange with Mega-Blaster. Three officers were taken to the hospital. Two of them in serious condition.” He looked up from the screen. “Fortunately, there were no fatalities.”
“You forgot George,” I said quietly.
“Who?” Richard asked.
“George Braddock. He is … was … Kurt’s cousin. An EAPF officer at the scene. He distracted Carbonado long enough for Zip to get the kids out of the museum.” A hot blade surged through my mind. I saw those sharp black talons sinking into my friend’s chest on a loop, like a nerve-grating album constantly skipping on the part you absolutely hate.
“What about him?” Richard asked.
I looked across the table at Richard, quickly debated the merits and consequences of snapping the briefing table in half so I could beat the billionaire with it. “He was a fatality.”
“He was?” Greg asked as he looked down at the tablet again.
I rolled my eyes. “Dear god! Do you think I went all Uber-Crushette on Carbonado just because I was having a bad fucking day? He gutted George like a fish right in front of me, laughing about it the whole time because he knew I couldn’t stop him.”
Captain Awesome looked at Greg, who in turn looked toward Zip. The little speedster shrugged and shook his head at the same time. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, he was still alive last time I saw him. Hurting like hell, I’m sure. But still ticking.”
“Wait,” I said as I jumped up from my seat. “When did you last see him?”
“Uh, at the hospital. I zoomed back in right after I got all the kids out. You and Carbonado were already outside. Then I spotted that officer bleeding all over the place so I carried him to the emergency room.” He frowned, not taking his eyes off mine. “I was going to mention it, you know, after the meeting.”
Greg cleared his throat. “As I said, everyone did a great job out there. The Doom Quartet is in custody, either at the Shack or in the Enhanced Ward at Charlotte General.” He gave me a look that told me exactly which one was currently undergoing medical treatment. “I’ll be meeting with you all individually over the next two hours so don’t go anywhere. Kayo, you’re first.”
Everyone else stood up to file out of the room. Alexis was the last to depart. Before she stepped out the door, she looked back at me and pointed in the direction of our rooms. I nodded in response, then the door slid shut.
I interlaced my fingers, resting them on top of the table, looking at Greg. He leaned back in his seat, regarding me for a few moments, as if trying to decide where he should start. I decided to save him the trouble.
“I guess I was a little out of line, huh?”
“Karen …” He pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit that seemed to be increasing. “I understand what you were feeling. Believe me, I do. You’ve come a long way over these past six months. You’ve learned a lot about what it takes to be a hero. That’s something commendable.” He looked at me, his face like a sculpture. “Today you learned the one lesson that is the hardest for any hero to accept. You cannot save everyone. Sometimes you have to choose who you’re going to save.”
“If the damned ceiling hadn’t been falling on a bunch of kids, I would have handled Carbonado long before George arrived.” I shook my head. “Just between you, me, and these four walls, I thought Zip would have been faster about coming to clear out the kids.”
“Zip was busy rushing the more seriously injured InBees to the hospital. His actions today are the reason there were no deaths.”
I nodded, a sharp prick sticking me in the heart. Had I really entertained the idea of pinning any blame on the speedy teen? He was doing his best and succeeding. To lay George’s injuries at his feet only served to misdirect the responsibility from the guilty party.
“I know,” I said. “I just … lost it. I haven’t known George that long. Kurt and I started regular dinner dates with him and his w-.” I covered my mouth with my hands. “Someone needs to call Jeannie. And Kurt. They need to know he’s been hurt.”
Greg held up his hand. “Calm down, Karen. I’m sure someone at the EAPF has made, or will make, those calls.” He sighed. “We need to be more concerned about the potential fallout from this.”
“Fallout?”
“You were snarling and gloating, Karen. You beat Carbonado until he surrendered, then continued to beat on him. You were taunting him the whole time. That’s not going to play out well on the news.”
Shit. More bad press. Not a whole day since my lecture about being aware of the media’s all-seeing eye.
“Just tell them Carbonado tried to kill some kids, not to mention stabbing an EAPF officer. My reaction was a bit… excessive, but only because I was reacting to the possible harm that would have come to the InBees. Wouldn’t that make my pounding the crap out of him justified?”
Greg tapped on his lips. “Maybe,” he said. “Hell, I don’t know. The problem is that what we tell them is going to be stacked against what everyone else saw. We’re going to have to tread carefully on this one.” He tapped on the tablet a few times.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m rearranging the shift schedule. I think you should stay off the public radar for the next few days. At least until we see which way the wind is going to blow on this.” He looked up at me. “Look, I know you were already sidelined for over a day in decontamination, but I need you to lay low for at least another two. Can you do that?”
I sighed, balling up my fist. It took a massive amount of willpower to keep from punching a hole in the table. “I guess I have to, huh?”
“Just a few days, Karen. It’ll be over before you know it.”
After my debriefing, I found Alexis in the hallway, leaning on the wall next to the door to my room. The moment she spotted me walking toward her, she pushed off the hard surface to rush over, quickly came toward me, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug.
Caught slightly off guard, it took me a moment to return the gesture.
“I’m sorry about George,” she said, squeezing me a little tighter.
“Thanks,” I said. “He’s the one who deserves the credit for dealing with Carbonado. If he hadn’t shown up to buy Zip some time, there would be images of a bunch of dead children on the six o’clock news.”
She finally released me, stepping back. “God, you were so mad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that mad. Not even after Richard compelled you to cut your hair.”
I nodded. “I just … lost it, Lexi,” I said with a sigh. “In a way I haven’t since before I turned myself in.”
“Yeah, but I think anyone might
have flown off the deep end in the same situation.”
I gave her a little humorless laugh. “Greg wouldn’t have.”
She looked at me for a moment, then nodded. “Well, yeah. But no one’s got the self-control that man has. He should change his code name to Sergeant Stoic.” Then she snapped into a spine-straight pose, giving me a polished salute.
I laughed again, this time with some mirth added. If anyone could pull me back from the edge of a funk, it was Alexis. Throughout my life, making friends wasn’t something that came easily to me. Oh, there were plenty of “acquaintances” and “connections” between the various extracurricular activities my mother forced me to participate in.
Rebecca believed in networking the way some folks believed in God, a parent who practically worshiped at the altar of Reputation.
The funny thing was, I didn’t have my first real friend, the kind that will have your back without question, would take a hit meant for you in a heartbeat, until I became a villain. As strange as that might seem.
By the very nature of what they are, criminals don’t trust easily. The associate who yanked you out of the way of an ionic blast yesterday might be the one shoving you into a miniature singularity tomorrow. Putting your life in the hands of the wrong person is a threat all super-villains face.
It’s even worse when you’re female. Men have a tendency to look at a woman and instantly see someone who either needs a watching over. Or he sees prey. I can say, with a great degree of satisfaction, I often enjoyed the look on some jerk’s face when they realized the “little” girl they were looking at outclassed them in both strength and toughness.
Of course, women super-villains aren’t much more trustworthy. We tend to be a little catty to each other, but that’s usually only to gain a strategic advantage. Due to some genetic quirk that the eggheads still haven’t been able to understand, Enhanced males outnumbered females five to one.
