by Nick Svolos
“He sought to control us. We will kill him.”
I moved forward. I was at the window now. Just a few yards to go. “I can understand that. I don’t think the people here will let you do that, but you can do something far worse to him.”
She turned to face me. Her gleaming face broke into a cruel grin. “We are intrigued. Have you come to free us?”
I stepped onto the shattered window sill and dropped down into the cell. “Let me interview you. What you know could put him away forever.”
Her head gave a sudden jerk. Surprise? Perhaps. She seemed off-balance from my suggestion. Supervillains never seem to think of alternate solutions. “How is that worse? We could flay him alive.” She lifted a hand. Eight-inch blades sprang from her fingertips, gleaming under the florescent lights. She repeated her demand. “Free us.”
“Think about it, Corrine. A mind like his, locked in a cell for the rest of his life, with nothing more complex than a pencil and paper to while away the years. No outlet for that creative genius. No challenge for his intellect. It’ll be hell on earth. Your testimony could put him there.”
She went still, save for some gears turning in her midsection. They seemed to be cosmetic. I took it for a subconscious idle motion, like somebody twirling their hair or stroking their beard while considering some deep thought. My heart skipped a beat. Had I reached her? Could there be a way to save her?
I continued slowly forward. A few more steps should do it if I still had to put her down. I said a silent prayer that I wouldn’t have to.
The whirring stopped. She’d reached her decision. “Tempting, but our way is quicker. Efficient. Satisfying. Free us.”
“Corrine, you know I can’t do that.” Another step. “This is the best I can offer.”
“THEN YOU CAN DIE!” Spikes shot out from her outstretched arms as she screamed. They struck me square in the chest, tearing through the jumpsuit and smashing against my skin. They couldn’t penetrate my flesh—the borrowed invulnerability of Ultiman saw to that—but my torso erupted in pain from the impacts. I slid across the floor of the cell, my prison-issued slippers unable to generate enough friction to let me hold my ground.
I cursed my failure. I was so close, but I couldn’t seal the deal. I couldn’t save her.
I’m sorry, Corrine.
Mechanista took a step back in surprise at my not being impaled. “What trickery is this?” she raged as her arms transformed into giant hammers. They flew at me with lethal intent. I managed to leap over her right hammer-fist, taking to the air and flying toward the ceiling. Her left, however, caught me in the side of the head. My God, she was quick. I crashed into the wall, then tumbled to the floor.
I tried to shake off my disorientation as the fists flew at me again. Realizing that I’d fumbled the “football” when she knocked my marbles loose, I scrambled to look for the emitter. I dropped into a defensive crouch, guarding my head with my arms as she rained steel hammer blows on me from every angle. Those things must have weighed a ton.
Mechanista was a murder machine, unbridled lethality controlled only by rage, and she’d had years to perfect her craft. I was a guy stuck with somebody else’s powers with about eight months of experience under my belt. Hell, The Angels only started letting me go on patrol without a babysitter a couple of weeks before. I needed to end this before she figured out how to kill me.
Believe me, there were a lot of ways to do that. Ultiman’s near-invulnerability would only let me survive so many mistakes.
In between blows from those monstrous fists, I finally spotted the emitter. Across the room, maybe fifty feet from where I crouched. I timed Mechanista’s blows. They were mechanical, predictable. I let one past my defenses. It struck me low in the ribs on my right, knocking me back against the wall, but I was ready for it. Rather than being stunned, I put my hastily crafted plan into action.
I kicked out against the wall like a swimmer making an underwater turn and focused on a point just past the device. Twin hammer blows slammed into the concrete behind me as I sped across the floor. I reached out to swat the device at the mechanical madwoman.
I almost made it.
A cloud of dust engulfed my head, forcing its way past my lips and into my nostrils. More by reflex than anything else, I clamped down on my throat.
She’d solved the puzzle. She’d figured out how to kill me. If she got into my lungs, it was over.
She went for my eyes next, sending another cloud of tiny particles past my eyelids. In an instant, I was blind. I could feel her trying to drill past the thin wall of bone behind my eyes. The pain was incredible. It was now even odds which she would purée first, my brain or my lung tissues.
I kicked out blindly. My foot touched something. It moved a little and didn’t kick back. I reached out with my foot, more carefully this time, forcing myself to move deliberately, despite the pain. My foot found it, and I gave it a shove. God, please let this be what I think it is.
After that, all I could remember was pain and Mechanista’s scream. It felt like it went on forever.
Something flat and cool slammed into my left side. Caught by surprise, I lost control and the air in my lungs burst forth in a cloud of gray dust and phlegm. I started to panic. This was just the opening Mechanista needed. I crawled toward her in terror to try to at least get one last punch in before the lights went out for good.
There was no need for that. The room fell silent. I managed to get my watering eyes open, my tears washing away some of that awful dust.
Mechanista was orange.
Well, to be more accurate, she was bathed in an orange light, as was I. I could see Mechanista’s body was a statue again, immobilized by the portable emitter. My lungs spasmed and I started hacking, my body trying to get as much of her out of my windpipe as possible.
“Mr. Conway,” a speaker came to life from somewhere in the cell. The warden’s voice continued, “Can you hear me?”
I nodded and coughed out more black gunk. I couldn’t stop.
“We have a clean-room team on the way. It’s very important that you not leave the containment field. Do you understand?”
I waved, concentrating on getting some control over my lungs. Eventually, I stopped coughing enough to flop onto my back. I sprawled there, in the dust of what had once been an innocent teenager, until the big double doors opened and a team rushed in to clean up the mess.
Also by Nick Svolos
The Hero Beat
The first book in the senses-shattering Conway Report Series!
Two superhuman factions clash at a Los Angeles refinery, leaving an inferno and a dead hero in the aftermath.
Now, one question is on everyone's mind: How did local reporter Reuben Conway know to be on the scene? On the run from supervillains, the cops and a mysterious assassin, Reuben forms an unlikely alliance with the superhero Herculene as he races against time to learn who was really behind the attack. As they draw closer to unraveling the mystery and the villain’s plan nears completion, one final question comes to the fore. Can they thwart the scheme before it’s too late?
Available now in paperback and electronically wherever fine ebooks are sold.
About the Author
Nick spent over twenty years as an IT geek, developing, deploying and integrating a wide range of software products in the Project Management and Business Intelligence spaces. Now, he ekes out a living as a freelance web developer and spends the rest of his time writing about the stuff he loves, namely, mysteries involving superheroes and orks.
He lives in Crescent City, CA, with his lovely wife, Charlotte, their youngest son, Tommy, and couple of layabout cats named Sprocket and Daphne. Everyone in the house is an avid gamer, and their home echoes to the sound of tumbling dice. Their current favorites are Ra, Carcassonne and Sentinels of the Multiverse. Daphne and Sprocket prefer games involving bugs, lizards and small birds, but they’re happy to take a whack at an unattended twenty-sider when they get a chance.
If you’d like to contact Nick, learn about his upcoming books, get bonus content, or just shoot the bull, you can reach him at:
www.NickSvolos.com
One last thing…
As an indie author, my books and I rely on support from our readers. If you enjoyed this story, or any of my others, please take a minute to leave a review on whatever site you purchased this book. Thank you.
