Avalanche. Despite himself, Marco is in awe. The situation is rapidly approaching absolute surrealism. He's being held hostage in a Marrowport Sellmart by the Guild of Chaos, and they are expecting decorated superhero Avalanche to come save the day. If he survives this, Alice will be so jealous that she didn't work today.
Suddenly, a display of paper towels next to them explodes. Marco hears himself cry out as everyone scatters, Slashia pulling him out of reflex. They roll together, although Slashia makes a more impressive recovery. She's back on her feet while Marco is still on his hands and knees, jaw hanging open. A second blast sails into a display of arranged pillows. This time Marco sees it: a bright, blue-white bolt that moves with precise grace. Negative Space takes flight to avoid it.
"It's some kind of cosmic energy," he calls to his comrades. "Can Avalanche do that?"
Slashia stands up straighter. "I don't think so." Marco doesn't think so either. Slashia unsheathes one of her scimitars and assumes a battle stance. "Get ready."
Tempo Crescendo appears from one of the aisles where he's stashed the burlap sack. "If it's not Avalanche, then who is it?"
As if in answer to the question, Marco's savior arrives on the scene. He sails down through the hole in the ceiling and hovers there, taking in the scene. Marco has never seen him before. He's dressed in a form-fitting black suit of light armor with metallic blue accents, boots, and gauntlets. The same blue is emblazoned on his chest in the shape of a starburst. He's wearing a cowl pulled tight over his head. It covers his nose, but Marco can make out olive skin and the hard line of the newcomer's mouth.
"Really, guys," he says, wryly and cocksure, "I would think Sellmart is chaotic enough without your influence." He folds his arms over the starburst and stares them down with abject disappointment.
Slashia slices her scimitar through the air. "Ugh, a smart-ass. Tempo, drop this smug bastard."
The supersonic note makes Marco cover his ears. It ends up being in vain; Tempo's song—a steady, harrowing wail—pierces Marco's soul. The newcomer takes the brunt of it. He yelps when the music knocks him out of the air, but manages to somersault a few times and regain his balance on the ground. Once he's upright, he fires one of his energy bolts. The blue-white comet streaks through the soft rainbow that is Tempo's music, tearing it apart and slamming its source in the chest. Tempo cries out as he's blown away, and the wailing stops.
The newcomer lifts his hand in invitation. "Next?"
Slashia growls and unsheathes her second scimitar. "This guy is pissing me off. Negs, cover me!"
She leaps, moving with inhuman agility. To Marco's surprise, she is wrapped in a translucent, silver glow. He looks over at Negative Space, who is concentrating on maintaining the force field. Then he glances back at the newcomer, who barely dodges Slashia's attack in time.
"Where's Avalanche?" she demands, swords moving like lightning.
The newcomer parries the blows with his gauntlets. Metal cracks against metal and sparks fly as Slashia drives him back. Marco watches with his heart in his throat. He can't believe someone is going to get seriously injured over Drainox.
"Where's Avalanche?" Slashia shouts. If it were possible, her strikes become even more fearsome.
The newcomer is looking less cocky by the second. Slashia is forcing him to yield, and eventually he is going to run out of ground and end up backed against a wall. Marco turns his gaze back to Negative Space, who is focused on keeping Slashia protected. Then he glances at one of the handbags lying on the floor near him. It takes but a moment for Marco to make a decision.
He grabs the bag, noting that it's quite heavy. From his vantage point, he has a clear shot at Negative Space. Marco takes it, spinning the purse a few times before whipping it across the room. The bag strikes true, smacking Negative Space and spilling some of its contents. Negative Space yelps in surprise and inadvertently breaks his spell.
Marco bails before Negative Space can spot him. He dives between the aisles and keeps running, but doubles back to keep an eye on the fight. Bolts of energy are flying wild now as the newcomer and Slashia have it out. Marco can barely keep up with the action. Finally, the newcomer gets a shot off that knocks one of Slashia's scimitars out of her hands. As it clatters to the floor, the newcomer sails into Slashia like a rocket, causing her to lose her other sword.
"Slashia!" Negative Space calls, inching forward.
The newcomer doesn't let him cast another spell. With incredible strength, he picks up Slashia and hurls her into Negative Space, taking them both down. "Had enough?" he asks, barely sounding winded. He raises his fist, and it is suddenly enveloped in bright blue light. "Or shall we go again?"
Negative Space is already moving, scooping Slashia into his arms and taking flight. "This had nothing to do with you!" he snaps angrily. He's retreated through the hole in the ceiling before the newcomer can retort.
Once the hum of the newcomer's power quiets, the Sellmart is eerily silent. Marco stands there, stunned, as the newcomer sweeps the area. Finding nothing, he comes to a stop directly in front of Marco. This close, Marco notes that he's actually a head taller than the superhero.
"Tempo got away," he laments, gesturing vaguely at the mess of aisles behind him. "Probably left his allies to fend for themselves. Are you all right?"
Marco manages a nod. "Yeah. Hey, uh, thanks. For saving me." He rubs the back of his head. "This is kinda weird. No one really takes over Sellmarts with demands, you know?"
The newcomer shrugs indifferently. "Even the Guild of Chaos has its petty squabbles. Not everything involves nuclear missiles or poisoning the city's water. The employees and clientele are safe?"
Marco glances around. They are still alone in the store. "I guess so. The ones who didn't bail as soon as the Guild crashed in shuffled out in a hypnotic daze." He barks a laconic laugh. "Same as any other day, really."
"Hmm." The newcomer folds his arms while he thinks. "Did they tell you what they wanted?"
It's Marco's turn to shrug. "Some poison for Avalanche's face. I didn't really understand it." He studies the newcomer. "Where is Avalanche?"
The newcomer shifts uncomfortably. "Indisposed. I'm taking over for her temporarily." Regaining some confidence, he draws himself up. "I'm K2: soldier of light, flight, and might."
Marco stares at him for a long moment. "… You named yourself after a cold, unforgiving mountain?"
K2 visibly deflates. "Um, no—no, it means I'm mighty and unyielding." His voice has changed a bit. Marco continues to stare, trying to place the accent. "And, well, I'm closer to the sun and its eternal light and… yeah," he finishes weakly.
Okay, then. Marco shakes his head. "Well, this has been surreal as hell, but I need to find my manager. If I don't tell her I'm alive, she might have already replaced me." He offers his hand. "Thanks again for the save, K2."
He expects a crackle of cosmic energy when their hands touch, but Marco feels only the warmth of K2's glove. "Anytime," K2 says in a stronger voice.
In a quick burst of air, K2 takes off back through the hole in the ceiling, leaving a trail of blue light in his wake. Marco is left alone in a store that looks like a tornado hit it, waiting for him to pick up the pieces.
"Ha," he says to himself. "Not that much different from usual." And he starts looking for his wallet.
*~*~*
The local Moondollars is bustling with activity despite the excitement of the day. It's only a block away from the Sellmart, and every rubbernecker who came to see the damage seems to be craving coffee rather than avoiding the area. Superheroes and their arch-nemeses are run of the mill on the west coast. Although it's unusual for something like Sellmart to get attacked, Marrowport is the kind of metropolis that attracts villainy. Its location and resources make it a prime target, hence Avalanche camping out as their resident guardian—except today, as it happens.
Marco picks up his order—a bagel, a latte, and a black coffee—and balances all three while he weaves through the line hea
ding out the door. He spots his best friend saving their table. Alice Cohen is a plump, rosy-cheeked ball of genius with curly blonde hair. She's wearing a purple sweater over a white blouse with black slacks. She looks like a million bucks next to Marco, whose dark-wash jeans and yellow long-sleeved shirt are marred by the orange vest.
"Why didn't you leave that thing at work?" Alice asks without looking up from her laptop. It's covered in Avalanche decals; there's not a trace of black plastic left amongst all the blue and white. "You know it does nothing for your figure."
Marco slides into the chair across from her, sliding over her straight black refill. "I was attacked by the Guild of Chaos."
"Ha, ha."
"I'm serious, check the news. The Sellmart is trashed. Slashia, Negative Space, and Tempo Crescendo showed up looking for cyanide or something. They nabbed me, and some guy named K2 blazed in and saved the day." Now that he's said it all out loud, it sounds even more ludicrously surreal than actually living it.
Alice knows him better than anyone; she can tell when he's cracking wise. She closes her computer and stares at him with wide eyes. "You're kidding."
Marco smiles into the foam of his latte. "I wish. How did you not know?"
Immediately, Alice's face crumples with disappointment. "That just figures. I've been sequestered in my apartment all day to finish this paper. I went dark—no TV, no phone, turned my Internet off, the whole nine yards." She covers her face with her hands and groans. "I could have made it to work in time to catch the end of that show."
"Wasn't a show," Marco assures her. "I know you're an Avalanche fan, but—no. Slashia touched me. It wasn't awesome."
Alice snaps back up in her seat. "Oh goddamn, Marco, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" He nods reassuringly, waving the concern aside. Alice cocks her head. "You said some guy saved you? Not Avalanche?"
"Yeah." Marco traces the black marker that spells his name across the cup. "K2. Said he was filling in for Avalanche, but he didn't say if anything had happened to her."
"Maybe she's on vacation," Alice suggests. Marco gives her a look. "What? She's allowed."
"Eh, anyway, I'm just glad it's over." Marco sits back and sips his latte. It's sweetened with honey and burns deliciously down his throat. "I still don't get why they went after our Sellmart, of all things, but whatever."
Alice leans forward. "So," she drawls, "did they look like they do on television?"
Marco gives her a look over the rim of his cup. "Really?"
"Oh, come on!" She reaches over and grabs his arm. "Weren't you at least a little bit thrilled? The Guild of Chaos took you hostage! A superhero rescued you!"
Marco pulls his arm back. "I know, I was there. I'd just as soon have not been there, thanks."
"Ugh," Alice grunts, folding her arms. "This sort of experience is wasted on you."
He rolls his eyes. "Maybe it's a good thing it happened to me and not some over-enthusiastic fan. I stayed still and shut up so they wouldn't hurt me—except for the part where I saved K2." He smirks when Alice's eyes go as wide as saucers. "Oh, did I not mention that before?"
"You ass." She waves him off. "Now I know you're shitting me."
"Nope. It really happened. I hit Negative Space with a purse. True story," he adds when she glares at him.
"Yeah, right." Alice rolls her eyes so hard that they almost fall out of her head. "Marco, seriously."
He shrugs, sinking further into his seat. "I don't blame you. It sounds crazy to me, too. I'm down with talking about your day now."
"What's to tell—especially after yours?" Alice taps her sleeping laptop. "I've been trying to beat this Philosophy paper into submission all day. I took the day off work to finally finish it, but it's just dragging on."
Marco lifts his mug in salute. "Ah, the plight of the college student."
To her credit, Alice adds a sunny smile to her flipping him off. "Do you ever think about going back?"
"Back to Literature?" He gestures to the Moondollars around them. "This could have all been mine! But you need a Master's to work here."
Alice kicks at him under the table. "I'm serious. Do you want to work for Sellmart for the rest of your life? It's fine for now, but you're in your mid-twenties. What's your game plan?"
"Staying away from my parents," Marco replies honestly. "I moved to Marrowport to get away from both their meddling and my degree. I always meant to go back, but… the economy hasn't been kind, you know?"
"I get you. Must be tough to have teachers for parents." Alice hooks a stray curl behind her ear. Her silver hoop earring catches the light and glints. "So… what was this K2 guy like?"
Marco makes a face and takes a big swig of his latte. "Kinda short."
"Marco!"
"What? He was. What did he say?" Marco frowns, trying to remember. "That he was a champion of light, flight, and might. Pretty standard superhero stuff."
Alice looks disgusted. "Seriously, wasted on you."
Marco sticks his tongue out at her. "Just tell me about your stupid paper."
*~*~*
When they finally leave Moondollars, it's been dark for a few hours. The October chill has settled in. Marco regrets not bringing his jacket.
"I told you it would start getting really cold soon," Alice says pointedly.
Marco ignores her, shoving his hands deeper into his armpits. It's fifteen blocks from the Moondollars to his apartment. Marco walks the distance every day so he doesn't have to fork out the extra cash for a transit pass every month. The extra hundred bucks comes in handy, and the walking keeps him trim.
"Do you wanna crash at mine?" Alice asks, adjusting her backpack. "Parvin and Erika are out."
Marco shakes his head. "You need to sequester yourself again and finish that paper before Monday. Get it done, soldier."
"Yes, sir," she grumbles. "But next time you're attacked by the Guild of Chaos, send a carrier pigeon or something so I don't miss it."
"Don't worry," someone says before Marco can answer. "You won't miss this one."
Marco freezes. What the—?
Alice spins around with a gasp. "Marco!"
In the time it takes Marco to turn around, Alice is encased in a silver, crystalline box. She starts screaming, pounding at the forcefield, but it holds fast. It's practically soundproof; Marco can only make out faint, desperate shouts of his name.
Negative Space is smirking from where he hovers two heads above Marco. His cape ripples in the breeze, folds of black and silver against the light of the street lamps. "You were surprisingly easy to find," he says, peering down at Marco with those empty black eyes. "Do they make you wear that hideous vest on your personal time, too?"
Marco backpedals, but he doesn't run. They have Alice. Marco's mind races. He has to get Alice out of there—has to draw Negative's attention away from her somehow. She has nothing to do with this. "I told you, we don't carry poison."
The kick to his face hurts. It hurts like hell. Negative's foot cracks into his cheek, sending him sprawling onto the pavement.
"They laughed," Negative Space says. His voice sounds distant and eerie. "When they found out what you had done to me, they laughed."
Marco forces himself to roll onto his hands and knees. He catches Alice's eyes. She looks terrified for him. She's shoving at the shield, giving it her all. There's a cut on the inside of his cheek. He spits out some blood. He looks up at their assailant. "You don't take rejection very well, do you?"
Negative's face twists into a snarl. Marco's ready for the next hit—ready and willing. Negative Space packs a mean swing when he's got the advantage, but at the end of all things he's just a short guy with spaghetti arms. Marco is prepared to counter the next blow.
Except that's not what happens. The pavement shimmers, shifting in and out of focus. "What—" Marco swallows. "What are you doing to me?"
The ground beneath him cracks, yawning hugely and threatening to swallow him up. Marco screams and scrambles away from the opening crevasse. The ear
th gives way faster than he can move. He manages to grab onto the ledge. His feet dangle uselessly over the abyss.
"Help!" he cries. His fingers strain to grip the ledge. He cranes his head up.
Negative Space is hovering above him. The snarl has become a smug smirk. "Did anyone ever tell you that your mouth would get you into trouble one day?" He lands down hard on Marco's hands, making him yelp. "I think you owe me an apology."
"Let Alice go," Marco demands. "I'm the one who pissed you off."
"No one laughs at me!" Negative Space insists. He digs his boot heel into Marco's hand and kicks it off the ledge.
Marco brings his injured hand close to his chest, cradling it. "Don't," he pleads. Already his remaining hand is feeling the strain. He can't hold on. Below, the abyss is huge and endless. He'll fall forever.
"Apologize," Negative Space says. He glares down at Marco. "Apologize!"
Marco doesn't get to. The blue-white comet that sails into Negative Space's back sends him somersaulting over Marco. Once Negative hits the pavement, his spell shatters and Marco finds himself lying prone on solid ground.
"What—?"
"You're okay," K2 says, standing over him with glowing fists. "Negs is an illusionist; what you were seeing wasn't real."
Marco's throat is dry. "Oh," he manages, the world sharpening back into focus. "Good."
K2 is already moving, stepping over Marco and striding toward Negative Space. Marco starts pushing himself to his feet. Alice appears at his side to help. They huddle together, watching Negative Space try to crawl away from K2.
"Really, Negs." K2 has regained his cocky tone. "Was one beating today not enough?"
Negative Space shoots his arm out, trying to do—something—but K2 is faster. Negative Space howls when K2 twists his arm. "W-wait!"
"Calm down," K2 says. "Let's get you—ack!"
Negative Space has another trick up his sleeve. Marco can't see most of it, but whatever it is knocks K2 back into the air. Marco and Alice have to duck to avoid him. By the time they look back over, Negative Space is a retreating speck in the sky.
K2 returns, crouching down like he's about to take off. He thinks better of it at the last minute, slowly standing up straight and watching Negative Space fly away.
Satisfaction Guaranteed Page 8
