The hospitals and a few critical services were spared, of course, and the traffic grids were going through a slow, orderly shutdown. I'm not a monster.
But for the rest, rolling brownouts as I sacrificed their function in order to survive punch after punch. He drove me through the rubble, sent me flying through buildings, chased after me, caught me, threw me down into the street, burrowed after me and knocked me back up through the street, meeting me in midair. I fought back, unleashing my full weapons array. Micromissiles did nothing. The phlogiston igniter swept over him without even touching off his cape. The freeze ray didn’t even slow him. The sonics did nothing besides rattle his helmet. Hell, the particle beams might as well have been pixie sticks.
Nothing fazed him.
Or so I thought. At one point I punched him square in the neck, and my gauntlet came back stained with blood. Only a bit, only a few drops, but it gave me pause as I stared at it. Something I’d done had bloodied his nose, or cut him a bit. Which weapon had done it?
No time to ponder as he laid into me, and I fought back like a fiend.
And when the power started giving out, when the components of my forcefield started overheating and melting to slag, I was forced to eject them and reroute the functionality. A tricky thing to do mid-battle, and it gave him more openings. With that he grew more daring, switched from hammering on me to digging his fingers into my suit, peeling away layer after layer. Finally, with a mighty wrench and a burst of blue impact gel, my chestplate cracked open down to the basic, smoking circuitry level. I staggered back, and he paused.
“Now will you surrender?”
He didn’t even sound tired.
“HEH. NOT BAD.” I turned off my voice modulator. “Minna, did the sensors get a good look?”
“I think so,” she said. “You are sure you wish to do this?”
“Activate the battle computer. She’s got a few more rounds left in her.”
Crusader’s helmet twitched. “You cannot mean to continue. Your armor is in ruins.”
I switched my modulator back on. “YEAH, FUNNY THING ABOUT THAT.” I wiggled my fingers in sequence, and the low whine of a teleporter surrounded me once more. “YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH THAT ARMOR TRICK.”
He dove toward me again, but I was sparkling and gone—
—and back in a heartbeat, a few hundred feet from him, and viewing him through a screen, as the Direnaut materialized around me.
How do you deal with damaged armor? Simple, when you’ve got access to working, reliable teleportation technology. Teleport the damaged parts out and teleport new armor in around you.
I’d toyed with the idea of an orbital satellite to shoot it down to me, but that idea was just so damn stupid that I’d gone with this instead. No way for most opponents to interrupt this.
Crusader’s sigh echoed in his helmet as he looked up at my Direnaut suit. Technically not a suit, if you wanted to be precise. More of a small mecha, just a hair under twenty feet tall.
“Direnaut online!” My recorded voice told me as the last systems came up. I grinned inside my harness, and stretched my arms and legs into the waiting control receptacles.
“What purpose does this serve?” he asked, and for the first time he sounded annoyed.
“MULTIPLE REASONS.”
“Very well. You chose this.” And then he launched himself at me, and I at him.
We fought, and I gave as good as I got, but nothing hurt him. The disintegrator made his armor steam, but that’s all. The mass drivers pushed him back a bit and holed his armor, but bounced off his flesh. The acid might as well have been baby shampoo.
Nothing hurt him. I even looked for blood seeping under his helmet, like it had during the first go, and found nothing more.
Which was, again, to be expected. I wasn’t doing this to hurt him. I was doing this to gather data.
That was the point of phase three, and I was dumping millions of dollars into this. It was a problem that every major supervillain hit at some point or the other, and that problem was named Crusader.
What did you do when Crusader came for you? He was invulnerable, as far as everyone knew. He was stronger than almost any other costume on the planet. He could fly at the speed of sound, and he probably had other tricks that nobody knew about.
If I kept going with my plans, sooner or later I’d run up against Crusader. So I’d decided to jump the gun, and fold him into my latest scheme. We’d fight, I’d try a myriad of different approaches on him, and the sensor orbs I’d hidden all throughout this area would track our battle. They would pound him with an array of various scans, trying to figure out what worked and what didn’t. And maybe if I was lucky, I might get a hint as to just how he could do the things he did.
I had three more suits waiting in the wings after the Direnaut got wrecked. I was pretty confident that I’d work through all of them. Crusader didn’t kill, and he couldn’t stop my teleportation engine. And if he got the upper hand, I’d teleport out early.
It was a foolproof plan. Hell, I’d done something to him earlier, all I had to do was analyze it later.
And then, as the Direnaut hit about the halfway point, and my systems were screaming alarms at me, I heard a sound that sent chills through my spine.
BIP!
I whirled, and sure enough, there was a shaggy, brown-haired man clad in a bathrobe and swimming trunks, hopping over the rubble and trying to charge me. I shrieked in rage, as I recognized him. Timetripper!
“NO! YOU IDIOT! DON’T YOU DARE INTERFERE!” I hauled one massive gauntlet around to face him, lined up a shot with the mass drivers, and just before my thumb could come down on the trigger, Crusader grabbed the arm and ripped it free.
“Thanks bro!” Timetripper shouted, and lunged for me, hands glowing as everything slowed...
If he got his hands on me, he’d throw me through time and space, putting me somewhere I’d never return from! I shouted the teleport codes in slow motion, my voice sounding garbled and underwater as I flipped switches, tried to teleport out before he could take me hopping with him.
Just as his fingers closed on the metal strut of the Direnaut, the teleporter hummed to life— but it was off, somehow. The low hum rose to a screaming shriek, and on the screen I saw Timetripper stretch impossibly, saw the world distort and curve...
And then, darkness.
CHAPTER 2 : VORPAL – MAKING A NAME
“Five feet. Five goddamn feet. June was in front of me, by five feet, when everything just shimmered. Then she was gone, and everyone on the street ahead of me was gone, and I was left wondering what the fuck was going on, y'know? It was like the rapture had hit! Then I was busy running like hell because no one was behind the wheel of the cars in the street. That got messy, but after they'd wrecked or stopped then I heard her shouting. Dire, I mean. And I won't lie to you, that voice in that empty city... you never really think of what a villain can do, when they cut loose. How can somebody do that? Just... take thousands of people? I don't know where June is now. I'm worried sick. I'm hoping like hell she's all right. But what I hope the most? That some hero kicks Doctor Dire's ass, and saves everyone. That's what happens, right? That has to happen, right?”
--Dana Stirling, barista and witness to the 2001 Dire Abductions
“Hold still, damn you!” Kinetica yelled, and Vorpal laughed in response, swinging her sword at the hero’s torso. Kinetica danced back, sweeping her hands, and the blade twisted in Vorpal’s hands, tried to curve around to strike her—
—Until Vorpal pulled with one hand and pushed with another, and the blade snapped to the side, deforming and splitting into jointed segments that twisted and whined with the stress of the metal, reforming themselves like a mechanical puzzle into an impossible corkscrew. It ceased movement, and Vorpal twisted back, resetting it to a straight blade once more. All in the space of half a second, give or take.
How do you fight an opponent who can control anything that moves?
It was
a question that Vorpal had spent a lot of time thinking upon, ever since the moment that Dire had asked her if she was capable of keeping Kinetica busy. “Ja,” she’d told Dire without hesitation, “I can stand against her. I can win.”
Vorpal recalled how the tall woman had blinked. “Don’t really need a win.” Dire said. “Just need to keep her from reinforcing Siegebreaker. Going to need the big lug down before we move to Phase Two, and Dire’s not sure she can do that if Kinetica reinforces him.”
“I think I can do it. I have some ideas.” She hadn’t, at the time. Not really. But what she did have was ambition, and Kinetica was a juicy target. Take a founding member of Tomorrow Force down, and her own name would grow.
Many knew the name of Tomorrow Force.
Few knew the name of Vorpal.
And after days of thought, with the deadline for the plan looming, Vorpal had come up with an idea. She went back to Dire, caught the mad inventor in the labs, bleary from sleeplessness and overwork, and described the blade that she needed. And Dire’s grin had echoed her own.
“Challenge accepted!” Dire had said. And oh, had it turned out well.
It almost took Kirsten’s head off the first time she tried practicing with the thing, but a few hours and some minor cuts had sorted that out.
Vorpal named it ‘Der Schmetterling’. The Butterfly.
And now she fought tooth and nail, raining down blows on Kinetica. Behind Vorpal, Bunny fought her own battle, wearing a shell that was the faintest shadow of Dire’s own. She called it a hardsuit. Vorpal called it a really fucking good idea.
The blade rebounded from Kinetica’s staff. Kinetica tried to use the opportunity to take off, but Vorpal pressed her back, clicking the flexible blade into new positions every time the hero tried to use her powers on it. There were rules to this fight, rules that Vorpal had memorized, studying video after video of Tomorrow Force and discussing tactics with Bunny and Dire.
If Kinetica managed to get airborne, and Bunny couldn’t bring her down, she lost. If both of Vorpal’s feet left the ground at once, she lost. If Vorpal let go of der Schmetterling, she lost.
That was the key; Kinetica never used her powers on things that were touching the ground.
Vorpal slid backward, evading an awkward strike from Kinetica’s staff. The metal telescoping rod was a new trick, one they hadn’t anticipated. But the woman was clearly in the early stages of her training. Nowhere near Vorpal’s level.
But Vorpal was handicapped. She wasn’t fighting at her best. Her style normally incorporated acrobatics, leaps, and tumbling. If she tried that here, tried taking both feet off the ground at once, Kinetica could grab Vorpal and throw her across the city. If the Schmetterling slipped from her hands Kinetica could grab it and beat Vorpal to death with it. If Kinetica got airborne—
As if reading her mind, the hero tried just that. Vorpal screamed, and with a twist of her power, the blade burst into flames. She surged forward, sweeping der Schmetterling in wide, random patterns, the fire blurring Kinetica’s sight. The hero abandoned her launch, tried to grab for the blade and turn it aside, turn it against Vorpal like she had many times before, and Vorpal shifted the sword, turning it in dizzying new configurations to keep the hero guessing.
They paused, Kinetica sweating, drops slipping out under her visor. Vorpal panted, mouth open in a rictus of joy, eyes wide beneath her silvery half-mask.
“Why?” Kinetica asked.
“Why not?” Vorpal answered, grin growing. “You are not having fun? You need more exercise?”
Behind Vorpal, bullets stuttered. “I’m okay,” Bunny said, voice crackling over the subvocal communicator. “Whatever it was that Quantum pulled out, I blew it to bits before he could finish.”
Kinetica’s eyes shifted. She lifted a hand, gestured and Vorpal caught motion in her peripheral vision—
It took all her willpower not to roll, all her willpower to duck down low instead and charge, but the piece of falling rubble swerved to charge at her, and slammed into her with a CRACK...
To no avail. Her forcefield flared, and the mortared bricks shattered, sprayed away. Vorpal gave her power a tug, and der Schmetterling flared with electricity. Kinetica brought her staff up to block, but Vorpal feinted, and managed to slap Kinetica’s shoulder with the flat of the blade. Heidelberg’s fencing masters had taught her that trick. Electricity sizzled...
Kinetica grinned. “I’m grounded, bitch.”
I could kill you with one swing. Vorpal saw just how to do it. Flick the blade over to the unknown energy, the one that let it cut through any known material like paper, and swing through the staff. Swing through Kinetica, too. She’d fall, choking on her own blood, and—
No. Visualized and dismissed in a split second. Bad idea, very bad idea.
No matter how much the smug hero deserved it, no.
So Vorpal settled for grabbing Kinetica’s staff with her free hand, and ramming her forehead into the bitch’s nose. Berlin’s back alleys had taught her that trick.
It worked pretty well, too. Kinetica reeled back, whipped a hand to her face, and Vorpal followed, flicking her sword out, slashing at her arms. Spandex tore, skin gave, and Kinetica shrieked, ducked low, and whipped the staff around toward Vorpal’s legs.
Vorpal’s reflexes betrayed her, and she jumped—
—and kept on going.
Below, face gushing blood, visor slightly askew, Kinetica held her motionless for a second. “You’ve got this coming,” she snarled.
Vorpal sheathed der Schmetterling, tucked her head under her arms, and noted absent-mindedly that she had a pretty good view down Kinetica’s ample cleavage. Well, that was something. “Some help here?” she whispered through the comm.
“On it!” Bunny’s voice crackled back.
Then the ground was rushing toward Vorpal and she gasped as she struck...
...until her forcefield flared, with an inch between her knees and the asphalt. As it did whenever she fell, it compressed, rebounded, and sent her spinning into the air. She stretched out, tried to control her flight... and stopped cold. Kinetica’s power had grabbed her again.
“Cute,” the broken-nosed heroine honked. “How many times can you do that, I wonder?”
Kinetica drummed the air with her hand, in a dribbling motion. Vorpal bounced like a basketball, off the ground, off some nearby cars, off the side of the nearest building, with her forcefield flaring and strobing. But it was dimmer and dimmer each time, and after the eighth time her guts were roiling in her throat, and the low-power chime was sounding in her ears. “Bunny!” She hissed through clenched teeth.
Her lover came through. A sparking sphere rolled across the ground, hissed vapor from an open side. Kinetica paused Vorpal’s pounding and swept it away with one hand before it got close... and staggered as automatic fire chattered, and knocked her on her ass.
Vorpal dropped to the ground with a bump. She shot her? Impossible!
Then Kinetica pushed herself up, glaring. Ah. No blood.
“What did you do?” Vorpal hissed over the comm.
“Rubber bullets. Honest.”
Vorpal found her own feet, circled the wary hero. Kinetica was bruised, and Vorpal was fighting to keep from vomiting... her head was still spinning from the basketball treatment.
“Big Boy’s down. Status?” Dire’s voice hissed over the comms.
“Blonde bitch is pissed. If it weren’t for the forcefield I’d be dead,” Vorpal grumbled.
“I’m keeping her on her toes, but with Quantum running interference I can’t get a solid shot in,” Bunny sounded off.
“The stunner’s no good?” Dire asked.
“Quantum’s got a device on the ground. Since he set it up, energy weapons fizzle.”
Vorpal tuned out the chatter and focused on Kinetica. The second her eyes shifted, Vorpal hit the ground and rolled, as a chunk of falling rubble shot overhead.
Getting tired. Getting sloppy. That rubble would have chased
me before. Of course, I’m tired, too...
She finished the roll as Kinetica backed up, and charged her, tying her up with short, quick slashes. Dire tried to distract her with another question, and she grunted a quick “Ja!” between feints.
The difference between amateurs and trained, efficient professionals, is that amateurs wasted movements and effort. Kinetica wasn’t bad with the staff, but she was an amateur. Vorpal was in a different class when it came to combat.
Vorpal wasn’t used to outlasting foes. Quick strikes to blow through their defenses, then on to the next. Having to shuffle, leave her best moves at home, that was frustrating. But she’d win, eventually.
Finally, Kinetica stiffened up. “Shit. Okay, you’re officially someone else’s problem.” The hero turned and bolted.
And Vorpal found herself angered beyond measure.
How dare she? How dare she! Forcing Vorpal to fight in this awkward way, then running away before she could cement her victory?
Coward!
She gave chase, knowing it was against the plan, not caring. But then the heroine was airborne, and a sweep of her arm scooped up Quantum from where he was trapped behind crumbling cover. The two heroes sped off, and Vorpal gave chase, lips peeling back in a snarl.
I was winning!
Dire tried to call her off, but she choked out a response and kept going. The woman was flying slowly, drained from exhaustion and Quantum’s extra weight. They’d have to stop somewhere around the wreckage of the Quantum Jet. If Vorpal wasn’t entirely exhausted by the time she got there, she could take one, maybe both of them. I just need a clear win against one. Just one, and my name will grow, and oh the money I can make—
“Abort!” Dire snapped. “That’s an order.” Vorpal hesitated. Would Dire forgive her this? Hard to say. If she won, probably...
“Do it, love,” Bunny urged. “There’s a reason for—”
Minna spoke. “Crusader is here.”
DIRE : TIME (The Dire Saga Book 3) Page 3
