by Kirk Twyman
“If Chilz is still alive, you definitely should train with her more often,” I said.
What was I doing? Why was I giving the enemy training advise?
Because some part of me still registered these guys as heroes. Some part of me still saw these people as friends, even family . . . even as they were poised to hunt down my family.
“This isn’t over,” he cried.
“Sorry, kid. Them the breaks,” I said. And then I laid my fist squarely into his face. Vigilantor’s head dropped down as he lost consciousness.
I limped towards the exit. I started counting off the roster of the Enlightened in my head, but it was pointless. How many stayed with Orra and how many left to hunt down my family? I had no way of knowing. While I was lost in thought, one last Super – Titan – launched at me. I weakly raised my power pistol, but he grabbed my hand. The super-strong Super began to crush the metal plating of the gun.
This is going to suck.
It was the only option I had. I pulled the trigger. The power pistol exploded from the tip, sending a blast that sent both of us spiraling back in opposite directions.
When my vision returned, my head was spinning. Titan had landed a few yards away, his neck broken. I started to regain my footing, but a solid weight kept me from getting up. It felt like I had an elephant on my chest. Was I having a heart attack?
The stars disappeared from my eyes, as my vision cleared. I looked up to see Orra standing over me, his one good hand clutching the know nub where his arm used to be. But he didn’t need his arms. All he needed was his strong legs to crush me into oblivion. I was so close, but I knew this must have been the end. I only hoped Patricia, Frank and Kerry were safe.
But hope hadn’t done me much good in the last day or so.
“It’s over, Frank, you fought well, but the time has come.” Orra yelled.
“Yes, it has,” I heard a new voice say.
My vision blurred, but I could see the distinct glow of fiery embers in the distance. Like I said, hope hadn’t done me much good, but that didn’t stop it from shining through, even if that hope was beyond all logic and reason.
“B-Blaze?” I said in disbelief even as I coughed up blood.
“Not quite,” the figure said.
“This doesn’t concern you, Inferno,” Orra growled at the newcomer.
I could see the figure more clearly. It wasn’t Blaze but Inferno, the grandson of Blaze and leader of the Enforcers. They were the young heroes, the ones too unproven to join the ranks of the Enlightened. Apparently, they had come to see what all the noise was about.
“Yes, it does,” Inferno said. I saw a light emit from his hand. It wasn’t fire, the source of his power. It was . . . something else.
Whatever it was, Orra responded just like I did when name-dropped Zorra in the HQ. I wasn’t the only one who had leverage on the Enlightened’s new leader.
“You don’t understand, Inferno!” Orra pleaded. “The Watchers are a cancer . . . a blight! They must be removed for the good of the world! You wouldn’t believe what carnage this one Watcher has just inflicted on my entire team!”
“Oh, I believe it,” Inferno said with a crooked grin. “I’ve seen what a Watcher can do when they are provoked. Every other hero was smart enough to avoid that minefield. Except you, Orra. Except you.”
I felt firm hands wrapped beneath my torso as one of the Enforcers hoisted me up. I could stand . . . albeit just barely. I held my gaze on Orra, but the Enlightened leader was still locked in confrontation with Inferno.
“And you just happened to be innocently passing by, Inferno?” Orra grumbled.
“No one here is innocent. Not anymore,” I said. “But I’ve seen Supers pull ranks before. You just got checked, Orra. I’m leaving.”
“This isn’t over, Frank,” Orra said.
“Finally, we agree,” I said. “This isn’t over. And if you touch any of my family . . . I’ll finish what I started here.”
It was more or less true. What Orra didn’t know was I was completely out of Cyro-Capsules, and my power pistol had been reduced to scrap metal. He could have killed me right there. But he didn’t know what I had up my sleeves and calling my bluff hadn’t gone spectacularly well for him in the past couple of hours. Plus, he didn’t know what Inferno or his Enforcers would do if he made a move.
To be fair, I didn’t know what Inferno would do either. I suspected he wouldn’t allow a Watcher to be killed on his watch. Inferno was old school like his grandfather, but I couldn’t speak for everyone on his crew. Besides, after tonight, I was done counting Supers as allies, now that Blaze was gone. It was truly us or them.
No one helped me, but no one stopped me either, as I limped towards the exit, and with a grunt of exertion, opened the door and walked out of the HQ.
Free at last.
Knockout
I figured my car insurance rates nearly doubled when I careened into oncoming traffic. Driving with one hand was problematic. Driving with a swollen hand, three cracked rips and a swollen eye as damn near impossible.
As badly as I wanted to make it through night traffic without having an accident, I needed to make it to the apartment before Orra’s goons could find Frank Chan.
Goons.
Like forty-eight hours ago, these people had been Superheroes. Now they were blind pawns in a tyrant’s quest for power, like the rest of the Enlightened. Not that there was many Enlightened left after my fight with Orra. Hopefully the goons didn’t know what went down – otherwise they might be even more incentivized to take me down.
I could see the apartment a couple blocks away. I felt a surge of relief run through my broken bones. Seeing the apartment brought me memories of my bed, of home, of rest, and soon, I felt the heaviness return to my frame, as my two backseat drivers – blood loss and fatigue – made their presence known.
I just closed my eyes for a second.
I was awoken by a loud crashing sound as my body was jerked forward, with my seatbelt taking most of the impact. I opened my eyes to see the front of my car reduced to a heap of twisted metal merged with the front of my apartment building.
I had literally crashed into my apartment building.
I’ll worry about my insurance premiums later, I thought, as I stumbled out of my car and into the apartment. I tripped up several flights of stairs, anxiety and worry racking my mind. I turned the corner and immediately faced a cat – which wouldn’t have been a problem if the cat wasn’t seven feet tall and standing on two legs. It was Manx, one of the Enlightened Orra had dispatched after my family. But this particular Super had been helping himself to my stuff, judging by the red capsules in his furry hands.
He locked eyes with me and emitted a low rumbling growl. I was beaten and blooded with what feels like a broken arm and worse. The Manx could tear be limb from limb with a couple of well-placed cat-scratches, to say nothing of what he could accomplish with one of those Napalm Capsules in his hand. His body shifted like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse.
And I was the mouse.
“Just know . . . not all of this is my blood. You’re going to have to bury a lot of your buddies when you get back to the HQ,” I said, trying to intimidate the hero. It had little effect as the Super lunged at me.
A silvery blur shot across the room, connecting with the capsules in Manx’s right paw. The capsules exploded, sending a flash fire into the room. Manx was blasted back down the hallway in a hiss, leaving only smoke and the smell of burnt cat hair in his wake. Frank Chan stood at my side, the young ninja ready for combat.
“Oh, man . . . ” he said.
“It’ll be okay,” I said.
“No,” he said. “I’m still three hundred points behind Kerry on Pac-Man.”
I lunged into my apartment door, opening it just as my hand hit the door knob. I knew Manx would land on his feet, and if that weren’t enough, back-up was coming. I hurriedly grabbed a spare coat, administered the amazing med kits that made me feel ten years
younger and grabbed the first weapon I could find – a shock baton. It did me little good as the hero Cybernetic picked me up like a piece of timber and thrust me out in the fire escape. From inside, I could see Manx leaping up and slamming Frank Chan into the wall.
Cybernetic strode confidentially towards me. She once was a beautiful scientist, but now she was little more than a machine with a pretty face. The rest of her – if you could call it a her – was a smooth metallic chassis with a jet pack. What was with jet packs anyway? Were they making a comeback all of the sudden and no one told me?
I was interrupted from my musing to see Cybernectic’s long hands reaching for me, with a gleaming red laser scalpel on each finger inching closer to my face. In the shadows, I saw a slender figure. I could make out long dark hair and a gym bag slung across the figure’s shoulder. I couldn’t help it. I grinned knowing full well what was coming next.
Cybernetic must have noticed this behavior, because she paused. Her monotone voice rang out, “Query: Does your demise bring you joy?”
“Answer: You’ve got it half right,” I said. “But it’s not my demise that’s coming.”
Cybernetic started to turn around, but the figure delivered a powerful haymaker with enough force for someone three times her size. The sheer power of the blow sent Cybernetic crashing through the wall, causing her circuits to spark and her chassis to bend. Her twisted remains slid down the wall in a glistening pile of scrap metal.
My daughter Patricia stood over the broken machine. She had her mother’s looks, my brains and a determination usually reserved for the laws of physics. Her curly dark hair complimented her brown skin as she spun around to grab Manx, who was trying to claw at Frank Chan.
Manx raised his claw, but Patricia delivered a punch straight to the overgrown kitty’s glass jaw, sending the cat-man spiraling onto the metallic remains of his teammate. This time the cat didn’t land on his feet.
“You okay, Daddy?” She asked, barely needing to catch her breath.
“You’re late,” I with a smirk. “And I’m fine—”
I spoke too soon, as I looked down to see one of Manx’s scratches protruding from my chest. My coat hadn’t stopped it all.
This was bad.
Patricia didn’t even wait for Manx to return to his feet. She stepped forward, pivoting her hips and bringing the full might of her muscle into a punch than sent Manx flopping through the wall. The cat man did not return to his feet.
I had never been so proud of my daughter. I would have told her if I could speak.
Or stand for that matter.
I felt Frank Chan’s lithe form steadying me while my daughter examined the wound. Her warm hands soothed the wound, but I winced when she applied pressure.
“This doesn’t look good, but you’ll live,” she said. “As long as we get help.”
“Don’t be so disappointed,” I croaked. “Looks like you’ll have to wait longer to get all my stuff.”
“Yeah,” Patricia said with a sad grin. “Like I want to make payments on that rusted pile of shit you crashed into the apartment.”
“At least it still runs,” I shrugged. Or at least, I attempted to shrug, but it hurt too much to complete the gesture.
“We have to find Kerry and get to the safe house,” I said. Patricia nodded and grabbed her gym bag.
“Stay behind me,” she said with her usual no-nonsense attitude.
I nodded, with Frank Chan’s help, we headed back to the elevator. I heard the elevator ding as I realized there was someone else coming up in the elevator.
Well, this is going to be awkward. They’re going to see me covered in blood and my ninja godson. Of the three of us, only my daughter looked presentable and beautiful as ever – no one would ever know she knocked out a cat-man and punched a crazy computer lady into oblivion.
Fortunately for the three of us, the door opened to reveal a man in medieval knight armor. There wasn’t anything awkward about survival.
The Super Knightline had found us. Undaunted, Patricia’s fist slammed into Knightline’s grated visor. The Super stumbled back into the elevator, giving Patricia time to reach into her gym bag to pull out her power blaster. It resembled a snub-nosed shotgun covered in LED lights. She pulled the trigger without a second’s hesitation, dropping Knightline into the back of the elevator. I heard a loud creaking sound as Knightline’s impact was apparently more than the apartment elevator could take. I heard the snapping of a cable as the elevator dropped down to the basement, taking Knightline with it. I heard the sickening sound of metal scraping and breaking amid the explosion that rocked the apartment building.
“Well,” I observed,” I guess we are taking the stairs.
Patricia and Frank Chan sighed at my quip and then helped me down the stairs. I was badly wounded, and the night was still young. There was still much to be done.
Safe House
I half-limped, half-fell down the stairs, with Frank Chan’s arms wrapped around my waist. The diminutive ninja was surprisingly strong for someone his size and age. It would have been better if Patricia had helped down the stairs since she we were about the same height. Instead, Patricia had taken point, cautiously descending down the stairs with her power blaster drawn as she scanned for signs of danger.
As soon as we exited the apartment, we were greeted by the sound of ambulance sirens wailing in the distance. While a hospital did sound pretty good right about now, I knew any official contact would just create more questions than I was prepared to answer. Plus, it would paint a big bright target on my hospital bed for Orra and the rest of the Enlightened to find.
Patricia stepped forward and cocked her power blaster, charging it up as she held it with both hands. I gave her a questioning look.
“Honey, we’re not going to the hospital,” I said. “We’re going to the safe house.”
“Yeah, but we need a way to get to the safe house fast,” my daughter replied. “The EMT might have something that can patch you up for now.”
So, over the course of the day I’d gone from fighting Superheroes to robbing ambulances. This was just great.
The ambulance screeched to a halt in front of Patricia, who stepped forward with her weapon drawn. I was surprised to see the door open to reveal George Elder, whose hands were raised non-threateningly.
“You know, most people say hello!” He quipped. Patricia rolled her eyes and lowered the gun.
“George?” I said. I wasn’t quite sure what he was doing driving an ambulance, but at this point, I knew not to question it.
“Wow, they sure did a number on you, old man,” George said as he stepped forward to examine my wounds.
“You should have seen the other guy,” I said through gritted teeth as George took notice of my broken ribs.
“I did, actually,” George looked up. “You should know Enlightened reinforcements arrived shortly after the Enforcers showed up, and surprise surprise, Orra slipped away.”
“More like not surprising,” I said. “For a seven foot tall alien, Orra is one slippery son of a bitch.”
George nodded. Patricia burst in.
“We don’t have time for this. We have to get Kerry and get to the safe house,” she said.
“Already ahead of you,” George said, motioning the three of us to follow him.
George opened the doors to reveal Kerry lying on a stretcher. The young warrior was in pretty bad shape. There were second degree burns all over his once smooth skinned, and his left arm had been amputated at the elbow. He had a breathing apparatus on his mouth. Frank Chan looked horrified as he sat with his unconscious brother.
“What the hell happened?” I asked.
“Fucking Orion happened,” George responded. I was stunned.
“Orion turned on us?” I asked. I thought Orion was one of the good ones, I worked with him for years. I thought he was someone we could trust. Apparently, I was wrong. But George shook his head.
“Not Orion,” he said. “His suit.”
“What?” I asked.
“The freaking Artificial Intelligence powering it calculated its odds of survival, and figured Orra was the best bet,” George said. “Orion stopped it but not before . . .“
He reluctantly nodded his head towards the recovering Kerry. This was bad. This was very bad.
“Where’s Orion?” I asked.
“Dead. Apparently, he thought the machine had killed Kerry. So, he blew his own brains out,” George said.
I gritted my teeth. George’s tact was even worse than his bedside manner. Not that there was any room for tact any more. So far all of my allies were coming up dead or worse. And now, in addition to monsters, aliens, villains and heroes, I had to worry about fucking machines siding with Orra? Who was going to try to kill me next? The vending machine down the street?
“What about your government contacts?” I asked but George turned away from me. He instead walked over the driver’s door like he didn’t even hear me.
“Elder! Don’t you back down on me,” I said. “We need to talk!”
George Elder opened the driver’s door and pulled out a long-barreled power rifle. He wordlessly walked towards me with a grim determination. In one smooth motion, George lifted the rifle’s scope to his eye and fired several shots down the street. I looked at him, perplexed. George didn’t return my gaze. Instead, he kept his gaze pointed down the city street.
I didn’t hear the low humming sound at first. Slowly but surely, my ears became aware of the sound of a thousand bees humming. It only grew louder and louder until I saw a multicolored streak rushing towards us. I started to duck, fearful it was some kind of power barrage, but the streak crashed headlong into a row of cars along the street, sending metal and glass spewing into the concrete. A brightly colored man lay prone amid the wreckage.
“Rain Bow,” I said, recognizing the Super. “He’s a speedster.”
God, I hated speedsters.
