“Sure. Anyway, you should know Cat-7 has requested, repeatedly I might add, to send a tech up to examine your armor.”
I open my mouth to yell, but the expression on my face must have clued him in because he rushes to speak.
“I told them no. If you want them, you will invite them. They have no authority in our building anyways.”
I try to stifle my anger, it helps he defended me.
“You should know, if anyone tries to touch the armor while I’m not in it they are going to have a very, very bad last day.”
“You really don’t want it out, do you?”
The door opens and the aroma of food hits me like a brick, and suddenly my mouth is watering.
“Nope, and it never will be,” I look up to him, “I’m the only person in the world who knows how to make it. Once I perfected the process I memorized it, wiped all my computers, destroyed every note. Trust me, no one is ever going to figure out how I did it. Ever.” I’m speaking more for Cat-7, who I know is listening, than Luke.
“Now, bacon and eggs, pronto.” I jerk my head behind me so he knows to push me out. He obediently pushes me into the underground HQ. It’s really quite amazing. They have enough supplies here to feed and house the fifty or so superheroes on the west coast. A map on the wall shows four such bases in the US. Portland, where we are, North Dakota, presumably in the same location as the UltraMax, Miami and Washington DC.
He wheels me through to the cafe, it smells delicious. There are plenty of tables with nice linens and flowers. The ceiling is a little higher to make it feel less claustrophobic. Currently, there are a half dozen costumed heroes eating here. In groups of two and three. I don’t recognize any of them, but one.
The Protector. He’s probably the most well-known superhero in the world. His costume looks like he stepped out of a Greek epic, with its bronze alloy and plumed helmet. Currently he’s sitting in the corner eating a stack of pancakes and reading a book. As if he can’t bench press a tank.
“Luke,” he waves at us as we go in. I’m not a fangirl, per se, but the Protector… I remember when he pulled a sinking cruise ship onto a beach.
“You know him?” I ask.
“Yeah, when I was on the New York team we worked together a few times. He’s a nice enough guy. Kind of bookish.”
He says that like it’s a bad thing.
Luke parks me at a table after moving the chair and sits down across from me. The menus are pretty standard, I already know what I want, he surprises me by taking his time.
A few minutes later I’m sipping my orange juice and he’s working on a cup of flavored coffee.
“Can I ask a question?”
“Sure,” I say between sips.
“I mean no disrespect by this, but Amelia you literally could do and can do, anything you want. Why be a superhero?” It’s good question for someone to ask. The truth is, I don’t want to be a superhero. I can’t tell him that, certainly not down here where our conversations are most assuredly being listened too. Our food arrives buying me a few moments. The eggs, bacon, and potatoes on my plate are cooked to perfection. Luke’s stack of pancakes looks like it stepped out of a commercial.
He dives right in, slicing his fork through a pool of butter and syrup. I pick at my fluffy eggs for a moment, watching him eat. I know he works out, even though I’m pretty sure his physical strength has little to do with his muscles. How can he eat a stack of pancakes and still have a six-pack?
“I don’t really see myself as a superhero I guess. I had a hard time with the codename even.”
“Then why do it?”
Can I tell him the real reason? Since Las Vegas he has been kind and considerate toward me, but does that mean I can trust him? Maybe, maybe not. Certainly not here.
“I like to invent things,” It isn’t a lie… mostly, “I don’t necessarily want to sell them. A lot of inventors in the past have made things and ran out to the world and said look at what I made!”
“Is there anything wrong with that?” he asks. I pop a couple of crunchy potatoes in my mouth and follow them with a sip of OJ.
“No, not inherently. Other than a lack of practical thinking.”
“I don’t follow?”
“Too many inventors are in such a rush to share their ‘genius’ with the world, they forget they live in the world,” I say.
He still looks confused. God bless his naivete.
“Alfred Nobel felt so guilty for creating dynamite, he used his fortune to create the Nobel peace prize. He thought his creation would stop war since nobody in their right mind would actually use dynamite. Robert Oppenheimer, when he invented the nuclear bomb to end World War 2, said upon seeing it tested, ‘I have become death, the destroyer of worlds’. Luke, they lived in a crazy world. Japanese super soldiers were sinking ships with laser vision, the Luftwaffe was populated by officers who could fly without planes, he had a good reason for making a weapon powerful enough that even superpowers couldn’t stop it. Now, you have to ask yourself, is the world a better place for having dynamite and nukes?”
I could see him actually giving this some thought. He is full of surprises. I kick myself for just thinking of him as a ‘dumb’ Marine. Sure he’s not me, but then again, who is?
“I would say better, ultimately.”
“Possibly, we could argue that. However, I know this. If the world had access to my tech, people would die and it would be my fault. Can you imagine a tank made of my armor? Rifles firing my particle beam tech? I can. I can see it all. In the right hands maybe it can do some good. If I let it get in the wrong hands, it will most certainly do evil.”
He nods and eats his food for a moment. I didn’t mean for things to be intense. I get that way when I’m talking about my work. I’m glad I didn’t slip up and tell him why I’m really here.
“I’m sorry about the way I treated you before,” he says suddenly, “A few years ago we were in a joint action with the California team. They let anyone on their teams there. It’s very…celebrity oriented.”
I raise an eyebrow at that, “I thought the feds determined the regs for teams?”
He shakes his head, “Not all of them. But, yeah, a few. In Cali their team is also a reality show, I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” Everyone has. It’s the highest rated show in the country. I don’t watch it, but everyone else does.
“They had this girl on their team. An archer,” he says. His eyes unfocus and he gets this faraway look. I finish off the last of my breakfast and push the plate aside.
“She was a real nice girl, sweet, smart, super-talented. She had been in a couple of fantasy movies about an archer and this was the studio’s way of promoting it.”
Uh oh, yeah I think I remember this now.
“Anyways, we’re fighting this super-powered gang. They use their powers to run drugs, sex trafficking, stuff like that. Mostly they’re unregulated because they never come forward when their powers express. I was part of the team who had been asked to keep an eye on her. The fight was chaotic. Some of these guys shot energy beams from their eyes, they were serious. The fight lasted a good hour, when it was done the gang had ran. She was missing though.”
I’ve never seen him with glassy eyes, like he was about to cry. “What happened,” I whisper.
“They ended up finding her in Russia a few weeks later, after the videos came out. It was…awful. She had no way to defend herself and had no business being on a team. As far as I know she still lives in a psychiatric home. This is why I am against people without powers joining the team. It’s why my first reaction to you was so negative. For that, I’m sorry.”
“Oh Luke,” I reach across the table and put my hand on his and squeeze. “No wonder, I would have too.”
He smiles at me and we sit there. I look into his eyes and I feel a buzz in my mind, an excitement I’ve never really felt. With conviction I didn’t know possible, I realize he feels the same way.
The last piece of my armor snaps into plac
e with a click. I glance up at the status monitor, integrity checked in at one-hundred percent.
“Okay, Epic start a systems check and see if the new modifications are going to work.”
“Geez, niña, you make the superhero team and you still work all the time!”
“Carlos!” I let out a squeal as I spin around. I hate when I do that, but I am excited to see him. It’s been a few weeks. I roll over to him and he bends down to give me a hug.
“Is…uh, you know who, here?”
“You mean Domino?” I say casually as if I don’t know why he’s asking.
“Yeah, I thought I would say hi and stuff. Thank her for the keycard,” he waves it in the air. It’s black with the Diamondback logo on it, a triangular snake with the seal of Arizona behind it.
I smile, wheel around and roll over to the workshop, “It’s pretty late, I don’t think she’s around. However, I could text her and have her come by…”
“Nah, it’s cool. Besides, I’ll be too busy kicking your butt. Where’s the Xbox?”
Three hours, four cokes, and a pizza later and the problems of my life fade away. Carlos buoy’s my spirits by being here. I put the controller down and stifle a yawn. Despite my usual adeptness at shooters I’m feeling my tired today.
“Okay, amigo, I’m going to let you have this one. I have to hit the sack.” I wheel up the ramp. Across from my room is the bathroom, which all lay at the end of my workshop.
“You mind if I crash here? It’s awful late and the buses don’t run often.”
“If you don’t mind sleeping on the couch in the workshop,” I say. I run the water for a minute and splash it onto my face. It feels good to have the cold water. I grab a rag and scrub my skin.
“Uh, Amelia…” Carlos says from the workshop. His voice sounds weird, like he’s scared. I roll out of the bathroom and freeze. Vixen has her hands around Carlos neck, her claws tickling his jugular. Two men, dressed in skin-tight black suits and masks, flank her.
“A frigging cripple? You got to be kidding me,” she growls. I hate that word. I may be impaired, but I am hardly crippled. I glance at my screen, usually Epic has my armor diagnostics displayed there, it is blank. Why didn’t my security systems keep them out? A million questions scream through my head. I don’t have time to answer any of them.
“Don’t try anything stupid, girl, or I slice lover boy’s throat wide open.” Carlos’ face is white as a sheet. I’ve got to do something. The two men, the suits aren’t for decoration, they’re some form of stealth suit or something.
“Two, get the armor,” Vixen orders. As he turns I can see he’s carrying a pistol that looks an awful lot like the plasma rifles. Same tech. Who are these guys?
“Listen, Vixen, let Carlos go. You can walk out of here with whatever you want. Obviously I can’t stop you, and he doesn’t have any powers. You don’t need to threaten him.”
She smiles, her canines were either elongated when she expressed or she filed them herself.
“Oh honey, I can take whatever I want, I don’t need your permission. You being disabled is icing on the cake—”
The goon she called, Two, touches the control panel I keep on the side of my suit storage. Electricity snaps like a bullet and he screams as two hundred milliamps course through him into the plate on the floor. His body seizes and he collapses as the current runs its course.
“Oops,” I say. I have no sympathy for murderers and thieves.
“Cute,” Vixen says. She swings Carlos over to her remaining henchman and lunges at me. There’s no contest, I’m in my chair, she’s who she is. The wind is knocked out of me as she punches my stomach. She grabs my hair and jerks me forward, pulling me out of my wheelchair to fall on the ground.
“Leave her alone,” Carlos screams.
“In case you think someone is coming, or perhaps an alarm has gone out, think again. My associate here,” she points at the faceless man holding my friend, “Assures me there is a dampening field around the building. No communications, in or out.” 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 vice. 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 anyways,” 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, I can just twist my upper body. Without my synthsuit I can’t bypass the damaged nerves in my back.
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 surrender. 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.
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. He better be okay or I am going to burn Vixen to the ground.
Arsenal (Full Metal Superhero Book 1) Page 10
