Arsenal (Full Metal Superhero Book 1)

by Jeffery H. Haskell

  “Funny,” he says. Fire leaps from his hands and splashes against my suit. The shielding is ineffective as fire is heat energy. However, my titanium tungsten carbide armor won’t even be warm to the touch until he starts turning sand to glass.

  “Lock on with Kinetic Lance,” I think of a cool name for it as I say it. I like it. Epic brackets him and I grin again.

  “Fire.” I watch as the invisible beam of force strikes him in the chest, sending him flying. The flames die immediately. The HUD says the air temp is eight-hundred degrees and I don’t feel a thing.

  “Charge cannons, fifty percent power—fire.” I flatten Harper with another stun blast to make sure she’s out and follow up my lance on Frostfire with a third stun blast. They’re both out. Which leaves Vixen, Grappler, and Deadman.

  Bullets ping off my armor as I stride past Frostfire. Epic puts a diagram on my screen showing me they’re seven point six two millimeter rounds. They’re powerful rounds, capable of penetrating most armor. But my suit isn’t just anything. Maybe if he had a fifty-caliber sniper rifle I might be worried.

  Deadman takes a knee next to the truck Rhino is on and he’s firing what Epic identifies as an AK47. Brass spits out the side and I’m pretty sure every round hits. I flinch for the first few before I dial up my kinetic shields and watch as the Lance charges and the bullets stop in mid-air. They fall to the sand a foot from me. He may be a nutjob but he’s persistent. He lets his rifle drop on its sling and pulls his pistol. He fires as he moves to the left. He’s heading for cover. Epic brackets him with the lance.

  “Fire.” The invisible force shoots out and sends him spinning into the car he was going to use for cover. I spread out my hands and blast him with the cannons to make sure he’s down. His spasming body tells me he is. I spin around for whatever is next. Vixen is floating in midair, purple bands of energy are wrapped around her. Grappler is being dragged unconscious to the back of the truck by Major Force, the team's leader. He’s six four if he’s an inch, short blond hair, and crystal blue eyes. Epic lists his powers as strength, agility, and a preternatural danger sense. It doesn’t say super good looks because even my scientific heart melts when he looks at me.

  I just wish he wasn’t scowling.

  “Who the hell are you?” he points his finger at me.

  Uh-oh.

  Unconsciously I look around. He can’t be talking to me? Then he walks right at me and I realize he is. Did I screw up some secret operation? I saved lives here.

  “Listen,” I pipe over the PA, “I put Rhino in the hole and I wanted to make sure he stayed there. It looked like you could use some help, so I helped. You have a problem with that?” I cringe inside, I shouldn’t have said the last part. Apparently, putting on this armor ups my sass factor.

  From the way, his eyes narrow it’s obvious he does have a problem with it. He looms over me. My armor adds a few inches but not much. I’m liking him less and less as the second's tick by. Is he going to punch me? I’m pretty sure I could take his whole team down but that would screw up my plans. This isn’t going at all like I wanted.

  He looks like he’s about to yell at me when Domino places a hand on his arm and pulls him back.

  She fills her costume like it was poured on. Her mask, half white, half black, like her name, covers the area around her sparkling eyes.

  “Luke, she helped us out big time, try not to blow a gasket. Go talk to the First Sergeant and make sure all the men are okay,” she says. Interestingly, I notice she leaves her hand on his arm the entire time. His demeanor shifts and he nods.

  “Okay fine, you talk to her.”

  I take a step back if they plan on attacking I need to flee, not fight. We watch him go and she turns her smile to me. She’s a pretty woman, green eyes, black hair, tan skin and she certainly is fit, like a cheerleader from a movie. I wouldn’t know what one looked like in person, I never went to High-school.

  “Don’t mind him, once a marine always a marine. I’m Domino, what’s your name?” Her tone is pleasant and comforting.

  Warning, atmospheric toxins detected, switching to internal air supply. Twenty minutes remaining. The red clock flashes at me while I watch it tick down. Normally I wouldn’t need compressed air to breathe. I built the suit to filter out most things and auto-switch me to internal when needed. The warning happens when Epic thinks I might be in dangerous air which cannot be filtered.

  Is she emitting some kind of mind controlling pheromone? Is that why Force stood down the way he did? I realize she’s still waiting for an answer.

  “Cat got your tongue? Or do you not have a name?” Her smile is all white teeth and red lips. Even after the obvious effort she undertook to bring down Grappler, she doesn’t have so much as an eyelash out of place.

  My back bristles a little at that. I grasp for the first thing in my head, “Arsenal, I’m Arsenal.” She nods. I have to admit it isn’t bad, and I have been adding weapon systems and I do plan on a few more, there are worse names I could have come up with.

  “You know, doing this sort of thing,” she waves around at the villains, “requires training and a license. Technically I should ask you for yours since this is a government operation.”

  I knew this would be a thing, and I’m ready for it.

  “As you might have guessed, I’m new to all this. I believe I fall under the sixty day grace period?” I reply. It’s in the law, it’s supposed to cover people whose powers express and they haven’t figured out if they want to be a costumed hero or something more normal. Of course, I don’t have any powers, only my suit.

  Her eyebrow shoots up, “Oh, you sound like you planned this out pretty good then. Do you have an idea of what you are going to do next? I think we could fit you in on a probationary status if you need a sponsor.”

  I must have impressed her if they’re offering me a spot on the team. I do the mental math on my timetable. I was planning on spending at least a year making a name for myself. I could go with the Diamondbacks now, but would it help me? Or hurt me? She mistakes my pause as hesitation.

  “Listen, we’re not as strict as we let on. The DMHA may have authority, but it is mostly for show. We’re not government employees. Technically, we answer to the governor of Arizona first and everyone else second.”

  She pulls out a small card from somewhere and holds it out to me, it has a domino mask on it, her name, and the address of their HQ.

  “Swing by tomorrow afternoon and at least check the place out. We’ve got a pool…”

  I nod as I take the card. I have nowhere to put it. I look down at it for a second.

  “Epic, record,” I say to him. He flashes a picture from the two-gigapixel cameras I built into the helmet. I really don’t have anywhere to put the card, I clutch it in my hand until I can toss it.

  Turning the PA back on I address her, “I will, three o’clock okay?”

  She nods.

  Without further conversation I ignite the thrusters on my boots and surge into the air. This has to be my favorite part of the armor. If there was a way to experience the wind against my face, it would be even better. However, if any part of the armor is detached, the whole thing suffers. I can open my faceplate, but I lose the neural link if I do so. I let the card fall from my hand when I’m a half mile away. I wouldn’t put it past them to try and track me. Which is why I took off in the opposite direction I came from.

  An idea hit me like a lightning bolt. I need stealth tech. Why hadn’t it occurred to me before? I shake my head, for a smart person sometimes I’m really dumb.

  Now I’m on the radar, quite literally in fact. Alarms go off as my electronic warfare suite detects the radar waves bouncing off me in different directions. Right now my cross pattern isn’t too big, but with some modifications, I bet I could make her invisible.

  I angle my arms up a little more with the palms facing up while cutting speed. I slide down slowly. The altimeter on my HUD sinks to three hundred feet before the radar warning light goes off.
Good to know the movies have it wrong. They always say five hundred.

  Rows of houses and lawns pass underneath me as I wake up the dogs with my thrusters. Until I install sound bafflers there isn’t a lot to be done about the noise.

  Since I’m already thinking about adding systems I should also consider a more powerful weapon. Everything I had worked great in the last fight. Looking over the telemetry I notice the kinetic lance lost more energy in the conversion than I had calculated. I dislike the idea of lethal weapons, but I might have to put at least one on the suit, for emergencies.

  Now if there was only a way to cram another power cell into it…

  Staying up all night to design a new power cell to fit around my hips wasn’t the brightest thing I could have done, especially since I was meeting the new team today. I wake with drool on my cheek and the side of my face is numb from where I fell asleep on the desk. I stretch to work out the kinks. It had to be nine or ten, I never sleep in past—it’s two-thirty.

  Crap.

  I shuck my clothes as fast as I can. My foot gets caught on my jeans and I end up struggling with them. Hurry it up Amelia. It never ceases to amaze me how I can change clothes every day with no problems, and then when I need to do it in a hurry, they find a way to be stuck on the chair. Deep breaths calm me down. I look at the calendar. This could move everything up by years. My synth suit goes on next. It’s considerably easier to put on, I must be getting used to wearing it. The front seals shut from crotch to neck and once the seam hits the top, it melds in the reverse. With it complete, it is a one-piece suit which will only come off if my hands, or Epic takes it off.

  The armor flies off the rack and wraps around me like a second skin. Sadly, the new innovations will have to wait. For now, it’s the same old, same old. The HUD lights up as Epic loads my OS and does the preflight to make sure the seal is solid. I get the green light and I’m gone, blasting into the air right out my skylight which closes automatically behind me.

  They have their base in North Phoenix, about twenty miles from my house. I head east at three hundred feet cruising at two-hundred MPH for four miles before I bank hard left, slow down to one-fifty and glide up to eight-hundred feet.

  My arms are sore from all the flying I did yesterday. The suit might make me marginally stronger than I am normally, but I still have to fight the air to maneuver in any way.

  On course now, it gives me a few minutes to think. If I join the Diamondbacks, how likely am I to be noticed by the national team? According to all my research, the Brigade is the team who works the closest with Category-7. My father’s former employer and the company responsible for ruining my life. Normally I try to push these thoughts aside, to focus on the mission. Not today, today I need to look at it with a clear head. I pull up the newspaper article from the worst day of my short life. I know some would laugh and say, “How can a twenty-year-old girl know anything about pain?” Fourteen years ago next month, My parents were taken from me.

  My father worked for Category-7, the largest contractor for the government run super teams. They build containment devices, run the Ultramax in North Dakota, they even provide the hoverbikes most of the non- flyer's on the state militias use. They have their fingers in everything.

  My dad loved his job, I remember that. I was six when we went on a surprise vacation to Southern California. We were driving along Pacific Coast Highway when a tire blew and our car went over the cliff. I faded in and out for two hours, but at some point, men in uniforms with Cat-7 badges pulled my parents from the wreckage. Why they left me, I don’t know. When I woke up in the hospital every doctor, nurse, and person I saw, told me the same thing. Both my parents had been killed. It was a tragic accident, no one was responsible. I was six and from that moment to now everyone I’ve ever known, with the exception of Carlos, has lied to me about it.

  In the end we buried two empty caskets. Uncle Inezo was the only family member who would take me in, mom’s older brother. His drinking was a problem, but other than that he was nice enough, when he was conscious. He lied to me too, he would tell me they were dead and I just had to move on with my life.

  I’m crying in my helmet, which is a real problem, I can’t exactly wipe my face.

  “Epic, make note, I need to find a way to wipe my face. Lasers maybe?”

  Note made. Amelia, I recommend not using lasers to dry your tears.

  “It would be awesome, but yeah, you’re probably right. I should also work on synthesizing a voice for you.”

  Addendum added.

  The plan is simple then, join the Diamondbacks. Use them to infiltrate Cat-7, find out what really happened to my parents. Make responsible party pay for it. I’m not the government. I’m not a crusader for law and order. I’m a daughter with an astronomically high IQ who wants her parents back. I may have missed out on my childhood, but if I could have them back, it would be worth it.

  I’m not sure what I expected the facility to look like when Domino handed me the card. A mansion maybe? A sprawling HQ with manicured lawns and gate guards even. I’m sure it’s on TV all the time but for the life of me I can’t remember ever seeing it. What I found was a three story brick building from the 1920’s, a skylight and helipad. Outside is a modest parking lot with a couple of vehicles in it including a dark red Ford truck that looked well cared for. This didn’t exactly scream superhero HQ.

  I’m glad they keep it close to the city, as I come down to land the sudden change in position leaves my arms aching. I resist the urge to rub them as I cut out my flight gear and land with a thump on the center of the DB emblazoned on the helipad.

  They have their three hoverbikes parked to one side, a skylight and a large metal door with a keypad next to it. I expected a welcoming committee or something. Nothing. I walk over to the door and hit the buzzer next to it.

  “Yes?” A bored voice asks.

  “Um, Arsenal to see Domino,” I say in my synthesized voice. I feel like an idiot saying my name out loud. I know the world of superheroes has flashy costumes and cool code names and I need to get used to it if I’m going to be part of their world, but it still feels silly. People tend to freak out if the guy next to them shoots laser beams out of his eyes and his name is ‘Bob’ and he’s wearing the same clothes they are. The costumes keep everything grounded.

  “Use the button marked ‘office-2’, please,” he says without further explanation. The door opens and an elevator waits for me. There are five buttons, 2-4 are marked office, then ground floor, and the bottom one is red with no marking and a special biolock next to it.

  The lift shakes and creaks as it carries me down. Underwhelming is the word that comes to mind. Last I looked the DB’s received almost six million from the state, and another four from the Feds, along with however much the private sponsors kicked in. Where is the money? Certainly not in this rundown, old, rickety building. The lift comes to an abrupt halt and the doors slide open. The floor is carpeted and the walls are painted with the soothing off-white color no one actually likes. It doesn’t look rundown, but it certainly isn’t ten million dollars nice.

  “Epic, passive sensors on full, I don’t want to show them my active sensor suite unless I have to.”

  Understood.

  There are six doors on this floor. I don’t see any others and the space of each of the offices would account for the total square footage of the building. Are they hiding something underground? The offices are easily the size of my workshop. The first one has Major Force: Team Leader in gold on the door. Team leader huh, he has that painted on his door. Maybe he is more of a pompous jerk than I thought. Too bad about how he looks, those abs alone would make me forgive a lot. I shake my head, no time for that. Only the first three have names, Mr. Perfect and Domino are on the next two. I see she has the corner office.

  Domino does the teams PR and is the public face. She’s pretty, charismatic and always seems to have the press on her side. Even when they completely muff it up. It gets me thinking about the e
nvironmental toxins Epic warned me about. She must have some sort of empathic influence, maybe she doesn’t even know she does it?

  Domino’s door opens, and to my surprise a blonde woman who looks exactly like her smiles at me.

  “Arsenal, you came! Looks like everyone owes me twenty bucks. Come on in.” She gestures into her office. It’s nice inside. Plush leather couches, a full picture window seated to catch the rays directly, and an entire wall of expensive flat screens. Each one has a different news station, all are muted. I carefully walk to the center of the room and look around. I’m not sure where to sit when she points at the couch. As I sit she drags a small ottoman over and sits directly in front of me.

  “It’s my secret identity.”

  I cock my head to the side.

  “The hair. It’s how I keep my identity secret, and a pair of glasses.” She fishes out a pair of thick black glasses and puts them over her face.

  “Seriously?” My synthesized voice loses some of the sarcasm but she still picks up on it. It’s not possible her disguise could work…

  “You would be surprised. Of course, those who know me well aren’t fooled, but the general public? They aren’t looking for Domino in Kate Petrenelli. Marketing manager by day, superhero by night,” she says with a grin. The ease in which she puts me is almost frightening. However, the moment she started talking the toxin alarm went off.

  “Domino—”

  “—Kate, please.”

  “Kate, I have an internal air supply, but it’s finite. Can you turn off your pheromones, or is it unconscious?”

  Her eyes grow wide as a plate when I speak. For a second I think she’s going to be angry then she starts laughing. It’s like bells and chimes, everything she does is perfect.

  “Yes, I can turn it off. Let me hit the fan.” She doesn’t move, but I sense she gives a command because an exhaust fan kicks in from somewhere. Within seconds Epic turns off the alarm, and I'm off the canned air.

  “You know, I’ve talked to a lot of supers and not one of them could ever tell. I forget about it myself sometimes. It’s just part of my power set.”