Arsenal (Full Metal Superhero Book 1)

by Jeffery H. Haskell

  Within three minutes the only thing I can smell is the sweat in my armpits. Not to mention hot air rises. His scent is carried off to the ceiling where I hope it’s harmless.

  “I think there’s something wrong with your HVAC,” he says after a minute. I glance over my shoulder and he’s taken off his jacket. Sweat stains are forming under his arms. Good, maybe if his body is too busy sweating he can’t produce as much.

  “Maybe you could go find maintenance for me? They’re on the fourth floor. I can’t leave the room.” I say without looking back. I’m still typing furiously like I’m on a call and doing something urgent.

  “Sure, I’ll be right back.”

  “Can’t wait!” I say with false enthusiasm. Once he’s gone I fling my wheels back to the door, slam it shut and throw the lock. If I had any guilt or hesitation to go after these bastards for fear of hurting Kate or Luke, it is gone. They are going down.

  “Kill the heat, Epic, before it kills me.”

  I’ve managed to avoid Mr. Sykes for three days now. The fourth day is the charm—for him.

  “Ah, Ms. Lockheart—”

  “Arsenal, if you don’t mind. I’m on duty.”

  He grins, “Of course. Now I’ve spoken to your team leader and he’s agreed to release you for two weeks while we do this marketing blitz.”

  “One second,” I hold up my hand. I can’t wear a re-breather around him, and I can’t put on a mask, but I have a secret weapon. “Kate, can you join us in conference room three?”

  She was waiting for my word and walks right in. Stunning as always she’s wearing a turquoise blouse and black skirt that goes down to right above her knees. She has the right makeup on, the right jewelry, everything about her is perfect. Down to her thousand watt smile. He did say the company motto was fight fire with fire. Well, she’s my fire.

  “Mr. Sykes, it’s so good to meet you, I’m Kate Petrenelli.” She shakes his hand, “Wow, you’ve a firm grip.” Did she just giggle?

  “Well, uh thank you.”

  “I also like your taste in clothes,” she takes the seat next to his and leans over to grab a glass of water. Her blouse is open enough to give him a good eyeful of her plentiful cleavage. I watch his eyes go wide and his pupils dilate. She wins. Good golly Miss Molly, I didn’t know how good she is!

  An hour later I’ve agreed to four interviews, all in armor. One in Phoenix, Austin, Las Vegas and LA. I have no real choice but to do The Studio 50 one.

  He leaves a very happy man after giving her his number and eliciting a promise from her to call. She cooed and smiled and acted all aflutter for him. She even asked his help to move a potted plant that looked far heavier than it actually was. Just so she could compliment him on his physique. In the world of emotional manipulation, Kate is Darth Vader.

  “I don’t understand, don’t they know who you are?”

  “The company? Oh yeah of course. When we sign the NDA about our base they sign the NDA about our identities. If any of our names were ever leaked or hacked, they would be out millions.”

  “Then why didn’t he know to protect himself from you?”

  “How did you protect yourself from him?” she asks.

  “I went and found you. I figured you could at least keep me level headed.”

  She nods, “Empaths like me work on a few different levels. One, our powers literally make us good looking. I don’t mean we’re strong, and agile, I mean the way our body works, I could go downstairs and wolf down three bacon cheeseburgers followed a half dozen strawberry shakes and not gain a single size. I don’t ‘cause it’s gross.”

  I feign disgust, “You don’t like bacon cheeseburgers? I’m not sure we can be friends…”

  “Cute. I do, just not more than one. Okay, so level one, looks. Level two, pheromones. We all have them, they’re just stronger in an empath and we can control the ones we emit. Different scents have different effects on people. For instance, the scent I used on Mr. Sykes would, depending on the woman, have no effect, or make her irritated as hell.”

  I didn’t feel irritated, “I guess it didn’t have an effect on me then.”

  “I didn’t think it would, unless you’re into girls. I’m afraid Mr. Sykes is going to have a rather unfulfilled trip home. I’ve been emitting the pheromone for sex since this morning. I wanted to really amp it up and it gets stronger the longer I use it. I feel really bad for all the guys on the bus this morning, but,” she shrugs.

  “Okay, one and two explained, what’s three?”

  “Touch. My empathy is both passive and aggressive. By touching a person’s bare skin I can shift their emotions toward where I want them to be. I can’t outright control them. If someone is genuinely angry and furious it’s unlikely I will do anything more than calm them down. But, when they’re in a neutral state, I can shift it toward my liking. For him it was attraction.”

  “What other witchcraft do you perform?” I ask.

  “Throw in basic psychology and you have a win. Men love to be complimented on their perceived strengths. He dresses nice, that one was easy, but he also works out, hence the plant. I let him do things for me because he wanted to be helpful, and I let him explain things to me because—”

  “—All men love to help the ladies understand the big wide world.”

  “Exactly. Poor guy, he never had a chance,” she says with mock sympathy.

  “Which begs the question, why aren’t you the head of PR for Cat-7?” I ask.

  “I’m not willing to sell my abilities to improve the bottom line. On top of that, there aren’t a lot of empaths. Out in the field I can do a lot of good. Behind a desk? What am I going to do, convince people to sign bad contracts? Ruin lives? No, this is where I belong.” She smiles and places her hand on my leg, “I’m sorry.”

  “About what? You really helped me out here.”

  She shakes her head, “No, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. There is no reason on Earth they would send Sykes, who makes a few hundred grand in salary, here to convince you to do a few lousy interviews. None. He was here to get you away from your armor—”

  “—Then they would steal it. Yeah I figured as much.”

  “Why on Earth would they want to kill you for it?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to figure out why, and stop them,” I say with more conviction than I feel at the moment.

  “You’re not alone,” she says. It means more to me than she could know.

  I’m finally back in my armor. My stitches are out and I can hardly tell I was ever cut. A week of monitor duty and I was about to go crazy. The extracurricular hacking of Category-7’s computers killed a lot of the time. Now I have to wait, that’s the hard part. I need to let my snooper program work.

  We’re all standing on the roof of our new HQ, waiting for the latest member of the team to arrive.

  “I don’t remember asking for this guy,” Luke explains to Kate.

  “He’s a good candidate, Luke. Maybe there was a paperwork snafu,” she replies.

  “Honestly, I’ve been asking for new members for over a year. Ever since Stonewall left, and nothing. It’s like they want us to be underpowered. Maybe they finally listened.”

  I try to look innocent, which is easy while I’m wearing my armor. I stifle a giggle. Maybe this is how I should do more work. I could use my own resources to hire us people to man the HQ. Right now we have the front desk man. We could use a half dozen more people, not to mention some security. How is it the teams can have access to hi-tech equipment like the hoverbikes but not other things like security?

  There is an object approaching at high—

  Epic doesn’t get to finish. Fleet has arrived. He slides across the roof to stop in front of us, the air from his running catches up to him and blows past us like a sudden squall. Mr. Perfect puts his hands up to protect his face, Luke weathers it, and Kate simply turns her body so her hair blows behind her. I don’t have to do anything.

  Fleet’s costume or uniform, what
ever you want to call it, is awesome. His top is armless, but it isn’t a tank, more like a workout shirt. It’s dark blue and outlined with light blue lightning bolts that run all the way down his pants to his shoes. His outfit is skin tight, I mean tight. You can see every detail of his musculature. I imagine it has to be since his friction field doesn’t extend much beyond him.

  Kate smiles at him as the wind dies down.

  “Welcome to Arizona, Mr, Shaw,” she says holding out her hand. He has very Asian features, his hair is buzz cut, and the sides have little lightning bolts cut into them. He isn’t much taller than me, which puts him even with the armor, and an inch shorter than Kate.

  He smiles back at Kate and saunters over to shake her hand. I don’t know why but I expected him to use his speed.

  “It’s a pleasure,” his Boston accent is thick enough to notice.

  He goes through the team and then he gets to me, “Wow, I saw it on the news but this is something else.” I smile, even though he can’t see it through my mirrored faceplate.

  “Okay, you’ve met the team, why don’t you settle in and get some rest, we’ll go over the particulars tomorrow,” Luke says.

  Fleet shakes his head, “I don’t sleep. Side effect of my powers. I’m ready to rock now. I’ve been waiting for this moment for three years.”

  Epic flashes an alert on my HUD.

  There are several emergency calls at the airport. There is a man on fire attacking the planes as they take off. There may be more powered individuals but it is unclear.

  “Luk—Major,” I forget we’re supposed to use our code names when we’re in costume. Luke’s costume is a very tough looking green tiger striped vest with wide shoulder straps. On the center is the Marine core logo. Under it he wears a black form-fitting long sleeve shirt. His pants are military style cargo pants with the same camo pattern as his chest piece. Boy does he love the Marines. We’re certainly a drab group. Mr. Perfect more than makes up for it with his red tuxedo and black cape and top hat.

  “Are you—” he’s interrupted by Central giving him the same report.

  “It looks like you are in for some action, Fleet. Follow my directions, don’t be hasty, and remember, protecting civilians and limiting property damage is always the priority.”

  “I’ve had the course. Tell me what you want to do and I will play it cool,” he replies. I like this guy more and more. I make a mental note to ask him what course he’s talking about.

  “Domino, can you port to him?” Major asks.

  “We just met—so no.”

  “She can port to me,” I tell him.

  “Fleet,” he continues ignoring me, “How long will it take you to get to the airport?” Major asks.

  The new guy slips a GPS out of his pocket and starts to type. He’s too slow for me, “Assuming three hundred is your max speed in a city, one minute thirty-one seconds. I can be there in thirty-five seconds.”

  Everyone on the roof turned to me. Kate’s mouth hangs open and Force’s jaw tightened.

  “I thought your max speed was two-hundred?” Mr. Perfect asks.

  “Upgrades.”

  Force nods, “Okay then, Fleet go and see if you can help the civilians evacuate, don’t engage the hostiles.” The Asian speedster nods and in a rush of wind he vanishes. I can see the dust trail heading Southeast toward the airport. Damn that’s cool.

  “Arsenal, go find us a place to port in, I would prefer someplace better than Las Vegas.” He finishes with a grin, letting me know he’s all cool.

  “Everyone’s a critic,” I mutter. With my synthesized voice it comes off a little louder than a mutter. With my hands at my side, palms out, I engage my thrusters. The jets roar and I shoot up into the sky. In ten seconds I’m already going two-fifty. At this speed there isn’t any maneuvering. Fleet would have me beat in an obstacle course. I can, however, put myself on a ballistic trajectory. I holler as I pass four hundred miles per hour. The world screams by me. Six hundred miles an hour and Epic warns me the thrusters are reaching shut down temperature.

  Dammit! What did I miss? I guess no sound barrier today. I ease back the throttle and let friction and gravity slow me down to three hundred. Okay, not the thirty seconds I promised, but fifty.

  I push my hands out in front of me and light off my stabilizers. My airspeed diminishes rapidly. Without my inertia field this would be a very different story. Namely, my funeral.

  The airport is a mess. A jet burns at the end of the main runway, I can’t tell if it ever took off or if it was sitting there. I hope there weren’t any people inside. It’s an inferno. Several fire trucks have been knocked over, along with come baggage carts.

  I land on the roof of the tower and scan the field. Epic flashes Fleet’s location at me. He can do better than three hundred. Must be because there is a lot of open ground in Phoenix. He’s twenty seconds out.

  “I’m here,” I say over the radio. “Bring up all our active sensors and let’s see if we can pinpoint these yahoo’s.” Epic complies and a stream of sensor data pours onto my HUD. “Epic, we need cameras too, this is too big a deal to not put all our cards on the table.”

  All it would take would be for these guys to bring down one loaded jumbo jet and it would be a disaster. I hear two rapid fire pops and Force is next to me. He has his binoculars out, scanning. We’re on the team only, encrypted channel, which means I can speak freely.

  “Epic will have us cameras in a second,” I tell him.

  “Who’s Epic?” Fleet asks as he runs through the tarmac and up the side of the tower to stop next to us.

  “A hacker we use on the side,” I lie.

  “Cool,” he says out loud. Another pop and Domino and Mr. Perfect arrive.

  The systems are encrypted by a Federal firewall. I can break them but I will be detected.

  “Epic’s having trouble, we’re going to have to find another way,” I tell them.

  Fleet, search the place, but don’t engage,” Force tells him.

  He grins and vanishes with a puff of air.

  “Who do we know who can control fire enough to burn?” asks Domino.

  “Any ideas, Arsenal?” Force asks me.

  “I found them,” Fleet says, “and I mean them. Six powers, fire guy, a big dude who looks like he jacked too many steroids, some cowboy, a hot chick with an energy sword, a guy who looks like a mummy, and a guy on a flying carpet.”

  “Fleet, return to me—”

  A blast of wind hits us and Fleet is here.

  “They look dangerous,” he says as he peels open an energy bar and starts eating.

  “Epic?” From the looks Domino and Force are giving each other I’m not sure I’m going to like the answer.

  The Psychotic Six. They’re listed as being in the North Dakota UltraMax. No news reports of them escaping have been filed. They are extremely dangerous. Lethal force would not be inappropriate.

  “It’s the Psychotic Six,” I inform them.

  “Force—” Domino says.

  “—I know. We’re outgunned here. Central,” he puts his hand to his ear. “Central?”

  “Epic are we being jammed?” I ask.

  No. The comm channel is open, no one is responding.

  “I’m getting a bad feeling of deja vu.” It’s like Las Vegas all over again. Who wants us to fail? And why? We should never have been sent to Las Vegas, and now the single most dangerous group of psychos to ever have powers just happens to show up in Phoenix? I can’t even do math that crazy.

  “We’re on our own… again,” Force says, “We can’t let them run free, they’re murdering psychopaths. If New York had the death penalty they wouldn’t even be alive after what they did.”

  “I’m more concerned about the here and now,” Domino adds, “One or two of them we could handle. But all six?”

  Force glances down at is feet, I can tell he’s at a loss for words. He’s great in a fight, something he can wrap his hands around, but problem solving and tactics aren�
��t his thing.

  “Epic, show me the opposition and go on comms.”

  His voice comes over our earpieces and it sounds awesome, I know the situation sucks but if Central is offline we need something to help us.

  “Bandit has a power set similar to Deadman, extremely high visual acuity. He is also inversely invulnerable to the force applied to him,” Epic says in his cool new voice.

  “Which means the harder you hit him, the less it hurts him, great,” Domino mutters.

  “Blade,” Epic continues, “wields a sword made of plasma energy. It defies science and can cut through anything. Including you, Arsenal. Sandman is a sand elemental, a living sandstorm. Jadoo, is similar in power to Mr. Perfect, he is a mage and can control matter.”

  “He’s nothing like me. My power comes through study and practice, he’s a fraud who sacrifices life to power his black magic.”

  I’ve never actually seen Perfect mad before. If the situation weren’t horrific I would smile.

  “Tire-Iron is invulnerable and a F5 strongman. Finally there is Nova. He’s an F4 fire generator. His flames can melt most steel and reach as high as two-thousand degrees—”

  “—Thank God for small favors,” I say.

  “—He can also fly and project it like an explosion.”

  I don’t think any of us have anything witty to say after Epic’s rundown. Several F5’s, killers and psychopaths.

  “Okay, we go in hard and fast, hit them before they even know we’re there,” Force says slapping his hands together. I glance at Domino and her expression mirrors my own. It would be suicide to hit them head on.

  “Force,” I say with my synthesized voice, “Head-on may not be the way to go here. We haven’t exactly had time to work as a team. When we fight we all tend to pair off and fight people one-on-one.”

  I can see his hackles are up. The man is ruggedly handsome, but when his powers kick in he’s brutish. Not his fault, I know, but it is weird to see the guy who’s sweet and nice to me sometimes, become a rage monster.

  I hold my hand up to forestall his complaints, “Listen, focus for a second. There are five of us and six of them. I can’t fight Blade and you can’t take Tire-Iron. Unless you can get angry enough to go F5?”