Arsenal (Full Metal Superhero Book 1)

by Jeffery H. Haskell

  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?”

  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!”

  “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 seemed to have clicked. She says it is all about her emotional connection with a person.

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

  http://www.FullMetalSuperhero.com

  “Pull it up.”

  The bottom corner of my HUD is replaced with the front page. 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 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.

  “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 the light green of patrol, 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 nothi
ng.

  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. It’s followed by a clatter of magazines falling to the ground and men reloading. The fifty’s are belt fed and each truck has two men in it. One is holding the breach 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 are 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 will take 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 their actions. I flex my right arm 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 wrecking 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.”

  “Epic, tell whoever it is to go away.” I’ve been up since four am, and I’m pretty sure it’s approaching ten pm. I don’t know because my head is stuffed inside the chest piece of my armor. I had a stroke of brilliance this morning and I’ve been working on it ever since. The key is my kinetic shield and it’s housed inside my chest piece. I already begged off my patrol for the day and I want to finish this.

  The door chimes again.

  “Fine, open,” I say. I don’t think anyone else in the building has voice activated controls, but it sure helps with being in a wheelchair. I hear the door slide open and large booted feet walk in.

  Crud. I’m in my sweatpants and a tank top, laying on the floor with my upper body firmly ensconced in the armor.

  “Amelia! Are you okay?” Luke asks as I hear him run to me. Of course he thinks I’m hurt. How could I possibly be out of my wheelchair unless I was hurt? I bite my tongue—hard—and count to five. It’s difficult to say the least, when people think you are incapable of even the most mundane things.

  “I’m fine, I had a really cool idea on something and I wanted to try it out.”

  “At eight in the morning?”

  I hit my head on the upper oscillator. “What?”

  “Yeah, I was coming in to go over your patrol assignment for the day and…”

  I slide out from under the titanium—tungsten carbide armor. The chest piece ways about seventy-five pounds and is by far the heaviest piece.

  “No kidding? Epic open the blinds.” Sunshine streams in as they pull apart. I feel it now. With the fever of my work interrupted a deep weariness comes over me.

  “Considering your armor is in about seven different pieces I think we can beg off the patrols until after you get some sleep.”

  “Actually,” I say as I yawn, “what I really need is some breakfast.” His eyes light up unexpectedly and for a moment I can see the man and not the marine.

  “The mes—restaurant down below is five stars, would you like to go?”

  My stomach growls and answers the question for me. I can’t believe I spent all night installing a second kinetic shield emitter. Talk about lost in time. My wheelchair is on the other side of the room and I gesture to Luke. Without thinking he reaches down and slides his arms under me and picks me up like I’m a twig. Okay, I know I don’t weigh a ton, one-fifty sopping wet, but I still open my mouth a little when his arms heave me up and it isn’t even a strain for him. They’re warm and comforting and I can’t help but drape my own around his neck. God, he’s got lines to die for. Not to mention there is something incredibly—sexy—about a man who can lift me so effortlessly.

  We get about halfway to my chair when he’s overcome with embarrassment, he goes all stiff and his face turns red. I smile. It’s nice to be the one not awkward for a change.

  “Sorry,” he mutters as he sits me down in the chair.

  “Don’t be, it was unexpected but I don’t mind a little assistance now and then. Give me a minute to change and we’ll go.” I spin around and do a wheelie down the little ramp and through the doorway to my limited living space.

  I keep all my clothes in drawers low enough for me to access, everything gets folded, no hangers for me. In my old place I had plastic bins, but Kate updated everything for me. I can’t say I dress quickly, but it only takes me a few minutes to switch out. I decide to leave my synthsuit here. I wouldn’t put it past those dirtbags in the science division to scan it while I was out of armor. I can’t imagine them trying to steal it from here, but with my alarms the remaining two members would be on them in seconds.

  I roll back in and Luke is examining the suit, I would be concerned if I thought he understood any of it. He also helped save my life.

  “I’m no scientist, but this,” he waves his hand at the suit, “Amelia, how is this even possible?”

  “Says the guy who can bench press a truck.”<
br />
  He shrugs. “It’s a lot easier to accept super-powers. They’ve been around since 1903. They defy science, sure, but they have their own rules. This,” he gestures at my suit, “I did some poking around on the Internet, this isn’t possible.”

  “Not that I’m comparing myself to him, but I’m pretty sure Newton heard the same thing. Mind pushing?” He stands up and moves behind me. For such a big guy he sure has a gentle touch. We walk to the elevator in silence. It opens as soon as we get there and he pushes me inside and presses the special button.

  I really hate this part. The lift shakes and I feel the energy wave pass over me. The lift suddenly runs smooth and picks up speed. I wonder, is the whole lift teleported? If so, what happens to the one back at the building. If it isn’t teleported, could someone be brought in only to materialize in an empty elevator shaft and plummet to their death? Suddenly I want my armor on like crazy.

  The silence drags on too long and I have to say something.

  “I think every kid hopes she tests positive. I’m sure they all line up in the 9th grade and eagerly give blood to know. The truth for me is the opposite. I don’t care about powers or wealth. I have—goals. I’m driven, I’m very much my father’s daughter.”

  “If he’s anything like you I would love to meet him someday.”

  Me and my big mouth. I can feel the tears coming and I bite my lip. The pain helps a little.

  “Can we change the subject?” I don’t how to ask him without sounding harsh. He stiffens beside me and nods.