“I’m fine,” I said. “I got the wind knocked out of me.”
“If you have an injury-”
“I’m pretty experienced when it comes to being injured. I’m fine. Really,” I said.
He didn’t move, but he did let his arms drop from my shoulders when I pushed them off me. I found my feet, straightened, and felt aches all across my back where I’d collided with the ground. I’d be one giant bruise tomorrow.
Then again, if we saw tomorrow, it would be a bonus.
The fighting against Nilbog’s creations was still ongoing. The flying gargoyle-thing had made it over the wall and was being swarmed by defending capes. Others were just now starting to climb over, and did their best to avoid the ranged fire that pelted them. Eight or nine more creatures flew over, only these ones carried smaller ‘goblins’. The winged ones were shot out of the sky, but many of the smaller creatures managed to survive the fall into trees and the midst of the heroes. The ones that did went on the offensive with zero hesitation.
“Need the Azazels!” someone shouted.
I directed the few bugs I had in the area to attack, assisting with bites, stings and silk cord.
I would help, but I wouldn’t join the battle. Not this one.
No, I’d used up every bug in my reach, and the damned goblin-things were too good at killing them. Nilbog had no doubt designed them to live off of a diet of insects, to supplement their diminishing supply of protein.
I made my way to the Dragonfly, my flight pack dangling from the damaged straps I’d looped around my shoulders.
I’d very nearly told myself that we were coming out ahead. Golem had been a dose of reality on that front. We weren’t coming out ahead. Jack was spreading fear, he was killing innocents, and he was whittling us down. Doing so with such expendable forces cost him nothing. Now, with Nilbog in his possession, he had access to that many more monsters and freaks that he could just throw away.
There was no guarantee we would continue down this road unfettered. Just the opposite. I fully expected Jack to turn to the rules he’d established at the very beginning and state how blatantly we were cheating. Then he’d carry out his threat, murder those one thousand people, and move on.
I reached the console, shrugged out of my flight pack and sat down.
I pressed a button, “Defiant. Not a priority, but get in touch when you can.”
It took a minute before I had all of the individual windows open. I set it so I could track the feeds provided by the various members of the Wards and Protectorate. Some were here, others were investigating the sites where more members of the Nine were taking action.
Redfield. The Undersiders and Brockton Bay Wards were holding a defensive position, their backs facing one another. Foil took a shot at a flesh toned blob that leaped between rooftops, then swiftly reloaded. Skinslip.
Skinslip was a minor regenerator with a changer ability, allowing him to manipulate his own skin. I could see him using it to scale a surface. He extended that ability by flaying people and crudely stitching or stapling their skin to his own. The regeneration connected the tissues and extended his power’s breadth and reach, but it didn’t prevent all rejection or decay, forcing him to replenish it from time to time. He was a newer member, but they’d still cloned him.
A quick check of the computer noted the members of the Nine they’d seen and fought. Three Skinslips. Three Hatchet Faces. Three Miasmas. Three Murder Rats.
Hatchet face excepted, they were enemies who were exceedingly mobile. Skinslip’s skin acted like a grappling hook, it let him climb, and it broke any fall. He could also smother and bludgeon his opponents with it, if he felt the need.
Miasma was a stranger, invisible and undetectable but for an odorless gas he gave off that wore away at other’s minds, causing headaches, ringing in the ears, watery eyes and eventual blindness, memory loss and coma.
Murder Rat, for her part, was agile.
It meant they were up against nine opponents that were fast or slippery enough that they couldn’t be caught. That group was supported by a trio of Hatchet Faces that could steadily lumber towards the group, keeping them moving, ensuring they couldn’t simply maintain a defensive position.
The camera images that Clockblocker and company wore shifted as they scrambled away. There was a shudder as a mass landed in their midst.
Hatchet Face, dropping down from a vantage point somewhere above them.
Rachel’s dogs went on the offensive, attacking him, but their flesh was already sloughing off, their connection to Rachel shut off, their bodies disintegrating.
Parian’s creations were already deflating.
More range than the Tyrant had possessed, and the power loss was immediate.
Foil shot her crossbow, but it did surprisingly little damage. Hatchet Face pulled the bolt from his shoulder with no difficulty.
“Behind us!”
The camera swiftly changed direction. A Murder Rat had landed opposite the Hatchet Face, sandwiching the group between the two villains. The camera panned, taking in the area, and I could see the silhouettes of other villains on nearby rooftops. More Murder Rats and Skinslips.
Hatchet Face threw the last dog aside. It collapsed in a slurry mess of loose skin and muscle. The dog fought its way free, shaking itself dry. Bastard was already free.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Imp said. “My power’s gone.“
“Mine too,” Crucible said. “Turned off like someone flipped a switch.“
I closed my eyes. I was too far away to help, couldn’t think of advice to offer.
“We’re not powerless,” Grue said. “We’ve got strong costumes. We know how to fight.“
Tattletale’s voice came over the comms, “He’s strong enough to swing that axe through a car, tough enough you could flatten him with a steamroller and he’d get back up when you were done.“
“We run then,” Grue said. “We deal with Murder Rat and then we scram. Make some distance.“
“He’s not fast, but he’s not a slowpoke either. You don’t have muscles like that and find yourself unable to run.“
“Be constructive,” Grue said. “Solutions? Options? Any ideas?“
“Yeah,” Rachel said. “This.“
She wheeled around, pointing. Both of her dogs bounded towards the Murder Rat.
I couldn’t see Hatchet Face with the directions the cameras were pointed, but I could see the groups converge on Murder Rat, bull-rushing her as a mass.
Murder Rat swatted at the dogs, slashing Bastard along the ribs, but Rachel stepped in the way, blocking the follow-up attacks with the sleeves of her silk-weave jacket.
Murder Rat, about to be surrounded, leaped up to position herself on a wall, slamming her claws through a plate-glass window to grab the inside of the windowframe. Blood ran down her wrists.
Foil took aim and fired, and Murder Rat leaped before the bolt made contact.
“She tagged the dog. Mouse Protector’s power,” Tattletale said. “Watch out.“
A camera, Vista’s, focused on the dog.
“Hatchet Face incoming!”
Clockblocker, Crucible and Toggle turned around, but Vista remained fixated on the animal.
The moment the group was distracted by the incoming titan, Murder Rat appeared. She drove her elbow into the side of Crucible’s throat, bringing one foot up to rake the side of his leg, but didn’t get any further.
Vista fired her gun straight into the villain’s back, then wheeled around and shot Hatchet Face in the chest.
Grue blanketed the area in darkness a moment later, the monitors going silent and dark.
I realized I’d been clenching my fists. I loosened them, then opened and closed them a few times to ease the strain.
Escalations, I thought.
The situation outside was worsening, but the Azazels had mobilized. They laid down the metal poles along the tops of the wall, opening fire with their lasers. That done, they joined the fight against the dragon-gargoyle thing that w
as continuing its suicidal attack against the defending capes. Chunks of it were being blasted and torn away, but it was doing a little damage to the defending capes.
The metal poles blossomed into the branching ‘gray blur’ nanotech barrier that would disintegrate on touch.
On the set of screens to my left, the Chicago Wards were joined by others as they ventured into what seemed to be a warzone. Civilians were fleeing in a panic, while the heroes advanced against the press of the crowd with a steady, wary caution.
The nature of the threat became clear. Rounding the corner, a single entity trudged forward. It was tiny, and it bore a large white cube on its back.
To look at it, I almost thought it was an Endbringer.
It wasn’t. It was only the second-scariest member of the Nine, xeroxed.
Eight Siberians.
One carried the cube, no doubt a container bearing the Mantons within. The other seven followed a pattern, lazy loops that brought them back to the cube every few minutes. They plunged through walls and into apartments and businesses, they returned with blood wicking off of their hands, feet and faces like water off a duck’s back.
I opened a communications channel.
“Weaver here. Don’t fight.”
“Wasn’t going to, but what the hell are we supposed to do?” Tecton asked.
Eight Siberians. Even without any other members of the Nine on the sidelines, it was an impossible fight.
“You need to run.”
“Run? The civilians-“
“Will have to run as well,” I said. “There’s nothing you can do. Accept it. You can’t slow her down, you can’t deny her what she wants.”
“We have to be able to do something,” he said.
“There are options,” I said, “But it’s not worth it.”
“What? Saving civilians is-“
“You’d die,” I said. “It would be a distraction, but you’d die. The civilians would die all the same.”
“What is it?“
“She’s still subject to gravity. Far as I know, she can’t fly. You drop her into a hole, she’ll climb out.”
“No point,” Grace said.
“No point,” I agreed. “Unless you get lucky.”
“Lucky?“
“Drop the one that’s carrying the cube into a fissure or pit, if she falls far enough and the cube gets wedged in the crack, you’ll separate her from the cube. You’d have to destroy it before another Siberian makes contact with it, kill all of the Masters that are generating the Siberians.”
“It could work,” Wanton said.
“Unless she moves fast enough to avoid the fissure,” I said. “Which she can. Unless she’s digging her claws into the outside of the cube for a handhold, which she might be. Unless another Siberian returns before you manage to break into that cube, which is very possible, considering that cube looks like something a Mannequin made.”
“We have Grace, and we’ve got Cuff. We have Cadence and Enforce here, too.”
Enforce? Oh. N-Force.
“I don’t think it’ll be enough,” I said. “There’s too many maybes. You become a target of the Siberians the instant you try something, and you die if this doesn’t work out perfectly, which it won’t.”
“You want us to let civilians die.“
I stared at the screen. They were backing away swiftly now. A Siberian hopped onto the top of the cube, then looked directly at the group of heroes.
A moment later, she leaped off to one side.
Flaunting their invulnerability. Taunting.
“Walk away,” I said. “We’ll send others in. Others who can do something.”
“Who?”
I thought of how Rachel had changed tacks, ignoring the biggest target to go after the Murder Rat. It hadn’t been much, but it had caught the villain off guard, baited the Hatchet Face into an aggressive charge rather than a slower, more strategic advance.
“Switch it up. Go to Redfield. You guys specialize in containing and crushing the enemy. The Undersiders and Brockton Bay Wards can head to your location at the first opportunity.”
I didn’t wait for a response. My console was displaying an incoming message.
“Gotta go,” I said, closing the comms channel, hanging up on Tecton. I responded to the message.
“Defiant here.”
“Was just about to contact the Undersiders.”
“I heard. I’m already giving orders for them to back out. Sent a helicopter in to pick them up, hoping it gets to take off again.”
“Helicopter?”
“A.I. suits aren’t cooperating. I’d send one against Hatchet if they were-”
“Defiant?“
“One suit just took off. Reinforcing the Undersiders.”
I could sense the fighting outside. My bugs were doing precious little against Nilbog’s rioting army. The capes were whittling them down, killing them in droves, but it was time and effort taken away from containing the Nine. Which was exactly what Jack wanted.
In the same instant Defiant had talked about the suit taking off, one of the Azazels had gone still.
Something was seriously wrong.
“What do you need, Weaver? I have things to handle.”
“Two years ago, I was told we couldn’t go after the Nine, because we can’t decode the portal without knowing the exit point. They just used one.”
“It’s in Ellisburg.“
“It’s our fastest route to Jack. How long does it take to tap into the portal?”
“Depends on the means we use. It doesn’t matter. The portal isn’t accessible.“
“We’re losing, Defiant. We’re winning the fights but we’re losing in the long run. We need to act decisively. End this.”
“You want to use the portal entrance, knowing where it is?“
“Yes. We just… we need capes that we can count on, on a lot of levels. And I need your help. Can you arrange for a sturdier ship? The Dragonfly won’t cut it.”
“Yes,” he said. “That can be arranged. I’ll have to pilot it myself.“
“If this doesn’t work out, if we get overwhelmed, then that’s it. We can’t afford the losses at this juncture. I get that. But we can’t afford to not take this opportunity.”
Another pause. Was he typing something?
“What’s the status?”
“We’re losing containment in Ellisburg. Siberians are racking up casualties, and Redfield isn’t doing great either. Your Undersiders will be evacuating if they can make it another two blocks to the helicopter without getting intercepted… I’m not sure what they can do against eight Siberians.“
“More than the Chicago Wards can. But that’s not enough on it’s own. We need to call in the big guns. We know Jack’s nowhere nearby. It’s a safe time to put them into play.”
“We have people on call, but we’re holding them back,” Defiant replied. “Jack will hold his strongest cards in reserve for last. Chevalier advised that we catch him off guard.“
“There’s no point anymore. Stop holding back. Jack’s escalating when we do. We established a tempo, he’s matching us. Let’s go all-in. We’ll get him to play every card he has on hand, and maybe in the process, we’ll see him make a mistake.”
“He’s not one to make mistakes.“
“We lose nothing, and we gain time,” I said. “Which big guns do we have?”
“The Thanda. Cauldron has volunteered the services of their two elite members. The Las Vegas Capes offered help, as did the Ambassadors. The Alcott girl has her ability to foresee the future, but she’s trying to reduce the strain she experiences so she can offer more assistance at the most critical juncture.“
“The fight with Jack.”
“Yes.“
“Okay. That… probably makes sense. Listen, I’ll handle what I can from here, take some of the load off your hands. I’ll see if I can’t get recruits from among the capes I trust to handle their own.”
“Do. And I would appre
ciate it if you would consider me one of them. I’ll be there with the Pendragon in twenty minutes, I just need to pick up the technology for hacking the portal.”
“Bring me some bugs when you come.”
“Yes.”
That said, he hung up. No pleasantries.
It was a relief. Down to business.
■
Fifteen minutes to go.
I waited impatiently for the capes in question to gather. We needed good capes, powerful capes. Too many were occupied elsewhere.
A whole contingent had deployed to Hyde Park. None of my teams. Dragon’s Teeth, the New York teams, the Texas teams.
I picked Jouster’s point of view. I knew him, and it would afford me the most opportunities to see other capes and figure out their identities.
Population of three thousand five hundred, and the place was empty. No victims, no members of the Nine. No blood, no violence, no signs of any disruption.
But the first wave of capes had been whittled down, going silent on the radio before disappearing entirely.
Now, as the teams moved through the city, there was nothing on the video, which ruled out Nice Guy. That left only a few options.
“Stranger protocols in effect,” the captain of the Dragon’s Teeth reported. “We’re going full dark. Eyes on the lightning.“
“Eyes on the lightning,” I responded. For the moment, I was filling in for Dragon’s absence and Defiant’s preoccupation. I knew about the Dragon’s teeth, had studied their operations book. I wasn’t an armchair general, but I’d have to settle for being one here..
They were using those full-face helmets to block off all sight, to shut out all sound. Their uniforms offered full coverage. The only things they would rely on were video cameras on their helmets and the battle computers that were wired into their helmets.
It wasn’t enough, apparently, to see anyone or anything. Things seemed eerily quiet.
Jouster jumped as one cape cried out. The man’s back arched, first one way, then the other.
“Psychosoma,” I reported. “Stranger four, master seven. First squad, get guns trained on him, everyone else, scan the area. Master protocols. Confirm everything.”
“Don’t shoot without confirmation,” someone warned, off-camera.
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