***
Jackson had jumped back the moment Hope crashed through the wall, expecting the superhuman to tear him apart before Jackson could fire on him. Instead, Hope had confronted the Redeemer. Jackson had taken advantage of the pause to grab his modified weapons. He couldn't hear anything from outside, which could be either good or bad. Team Omega might have defeated the superhumans, or it might have been wiped out.
The Redeemer seemed colder, more calculating, than Hope seemed to realise. Jackson’s mind static device was protecting him from any telepathic influence woven into her words, but Hope was almost certainly receiving the full brunt of her powers. Assuming, of course, that she could influence him and maintain her shield. Jackson had realised that she could have torn off the devices protecting them and hit them with her powers, converting them into her loyal slaves...and the fact she hadn't suggested that she couldn't do two things at once.
Her monologue seemed to be drawing to a close. Hope seemed to stare at her in disbelief. His face seemed twisted with pain, almost as if he didn't know what to do, as if all of the paths he saw were equally dark and futile—completely hopeless, in fact.
Jackson had seen enough of the world to know that the Redeemer had a point: selfishness and self-interest did prevent the human race from cleaning up its own shit. But, on the other hand, would rule by a self-appointed superhuman be any better? One man, no matter how clever, couldn’t handle everything by himself. Maybe Hope had been right to intervene in the Congo—it had been the classic definition of a hopeless country—but elsewhere?
He glanced at Ron, and then stepped forward. “Do you think that you can rule the whole world?”
The Redeemer glared at him. “You and your team exist to kill people because they are different from you, because they have powers that make you afraid,” she hissed. “Stay out of this!”
“I live in this world,” Jackson said. He looked at Hope, realising—for the first time—just how large the superhuman was, looming far larger than life. There was something about him that suggested descent from a higher plane, where life was simpler. “Doesn't that give me a right to have an opinion?”
Hope seemed to nod.
“You look at the big picture from where you’re standing,” Jackson said, wishing he’d paid more attention when his teachers had tried to teach the kids how to debate. “You see the problems that threaten the human race; the hatred and mistrust, the imbalance of power, the political leaders who abuse their positions...and you’re not wrong to hate it. You’re far from alone in hating it. But you can't see the small picture, and it’s that which will bring down your dream.
“People are individuals,” he stressed to them. “Some will go along with you because they’re scared of you, but that won’t produce a healthy world. The Soviet Union was dying even before it blew up Warsaw to kill a superhuman leading a revolt against Russian rule. Others will resist you, or do the minimum necessary to get by, or simply refuse to help at all.
“What are you going to do to maintain your utopia? Have telepaths scan the minds of everyone who is even vaguely suspect? Or will you eventually start ordering telepaths to turn people into puppets, creating a world of insects where they all serve the King?”
He looked at Hope, willing him to believe. “The price of your utopia is eternal slavery,” he concluded. “You will—you must—enslave the entire human race to succeed. And even if those slaves are well cared for, they will still be slaves. They won’t have the freedom to push the limits and develop themselves as far as they can go. How much of what the human race created, perhaps even superhumans themselves, would have come into existence in a dark world of slavery?”
“I...” Hope stammered.
“He’s lying to you,” the Redeemer interrupted. Jackson felt a sudden tug on the side of his head, where he’d positioned the Mind Static device. He lifted his rifle, praying that she would be exposed and vulnerable, just before he felt something slide into his mind. The Redeemer’s stream of thoughts felt like poison in his skull, burning through his thoughts and replacing them with her own; he dropped his weapon as she took control of him. “And...”
***
Hope lunged forward, throwing himself right at the Redeemer. Madness howled at the corner of his mind as she started, trying to get out of his way or take control of him and deflect him from his course, but it was already too late. For a moment, the illusion covering her flickered and vanished, revealing a green-skinned girl with bright eyes, before his hand smashed right through her skull. His mind seemed to clear suddenly as the pressure, a pressure he hadn't even been aware of a second before, vanished, leaving him hopelessly aware of how far he’d fallen.
He’d wondered—even hoped, on some level—that she’d controlled him from the beginning, that he bore no responsibility for the madness he’d unleashed. But as her control faded, he saw clearly how she’d influenced him—and it had started a long time after he’d founded the Saviours. He had wanted to change the world, he had planned the invasion of the Congo to start saving people from their own governments...it had all been him. The Redeemer had merely pushed him into lashing out at Libya and America after they had meddled with his grand dream.
Mimic’s last words seemed to mock him. Fireman’s grim expression as they’d battled near Las Vegas danced through his skull. He'd thought that he was doing the right thing, but instead he had been a child lashing out with overwhelming power. And the Redeemer had prodded him onwards. Perhaps she had wanted a world of slavery, a world where no one dared commit a crime—no, worse than that; a world where the thoughts that led to criminal actions simply didn't exist. She would have quietly ruled in his name as the entire world was tamed...unless the other powers gave in to panic and nuked the United States back to bedrock...
And it was all his fault.
***
Hope smashed his way up, crashed through the ceiling and through the hidden armour under the White House’s exterior. Jackson was knocked to the ground again, just as the entire building shook violently. Ron collapsed, blood pouring from the wound in his chest, just before Hope seemed to smash through the entire building. The superhuman seemed to have gone completely mad. Jackson heard him howling over the noise of falling buildings, just before his earpiece crackled with a warning. Hope was lashing out blindly at both sides in Washington, tearing apart soldiers and his own forces with equal abandon. Some of the early reports on superhumans like Fireman had called them forces of nature, beings so powerful that they might as well be gods. Hope’s rampage was that of an angry—or maddened—god tearing apart the world.
Jackson saw a skyscraper in the distance shake and then start to collapse as Hope smashed through it, just as Hope flashed back to lash out at the White House again.
Damn it, he thought, as the White House shuddered once again. The end could not be long delayed. The floor was shaking madly as the supports gave way, just before it collapsed completely. Jackson grabbed Ron and held on for dear life as the armour plate under the carpeted floor settled down on top of a pile of rubble, praying that no one had been trapped under the floor when it collapsed. How do we fight something like that?
There was nothing from his earpiece. Team Omega had either been wiped out, or forced to abandon their positions and pull back. There was a terrifying crash of thunder as Hope stopped dead, right over the White House, his face twisted with madness and rage. He was hovering right over the hole he’d made in the roof. Jackson, desperately, reached for the grappling hook launcher and pointed it at the hovering superhuman. Hope didn't even seem to see him as he hooked the jangler to the hook and fired, latching it on to Hope’s head. A moment later, the jangler activated.
Hope’s ears were extra-sensitive, Polly had pointed out; it should be possible to overwhelm them with so much noise that the superhuman couldn't think. Jackson could hear some of the noise as Hope struggled with it, trying desperately to cover his ears and flying haphazardly towards the ground, crashing into it hard eno
ugh to smash the jangler. A second later, Hope flew out of the newly-created hole in the ground and came right towards Jackson.
“Get back,” Ron grunted, as he opened fire with his rifle. They’d loaded up with penetrator rounds, intended to punch through invulnerable skin, but they just bounced off Hope as he lashed out at Ron and punched him with his full strength. The ground shook like an earthquake, the force of the blow picking Jackson up and throwing him several meters into another pile of rubble. He grunted as the impact stunned him, long enough for Hope to resume his mad campaign of destruction. Ron had simply disintegrated under the blow.
Somehow, Jackson managed to stagger to his feet as Hope howled in the sky overhead, his rage shattering windows and echoing out over the city. Some people would probably have been permanently deafened by his anger. But there was no way to stop him...he looked around, desperately, and saw a body just outside one of the fallen pillars. Lane had been trying to get into firing position, but he'd been caught by a piece of debris instead. He'd been killed instantly. But there was no time to mourn.
Jackson was the only member of Team Omega left to try to stop Hope.
The device Polly had produced, the device that had scared her so much, lay beside him, still intact. Jackson staggered over to where his Captain had fallen and picked up the device, running through the arming sequence. No one had been clear as to what would happen if the device functioned as designed, but Polly had admitted that the blast was likely to cause terrific damage. And yet, Hope already seemed hell-bent on destroying Washington...it couldn't get any worse. What would happen if he decided to destroy the entire planet?
Lifting his revolver, Jackson took aim at Hope and fired all five shots at him. At that distance, hitting someone with a handgun was a matter of luck rather than skill, but it got Hope’s attention. The superhuman twisted in the air, his face still mad with rage, and swooped towards Jackson.
Jackson grabbed the X-22 and braced himself. He forced himself to wait for a clear shot; once he had one, he fired. A single bullet stuck Hope’s head.
Got you, you bastard, Jackson thought.
The superhuman screamed as a white glow seemed to permeate his skull, and he slammed into the ground. A moment later, the entire area shook violently, shockwaves rolling over Washington and shattering buildings.
Then an unearthly silence fell.
Jackson had only a moment to realise that he’d succeeded, that Hope was dead, before the darkness overwhelmed him. He collapsed into unconsciousness.
Chapter Forty-Five
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” a voice said. “How are you feeling?”
Jackson slowly managed to form words as he opened his eyes. “Basil?”
“None other,” Basil said. “You’re in a military hospital somewhere in Virginia. How are you feeling?”
“Dizzy,” Jackson said, as he started to sit up. “What happened?”
“Emergency medical teams found you in the rubble of the White House, alarmingly close to the blast zone,” Basil said. He still walked with a limp, Jackson noted. “You and the snipers were the only survivors from the deployed team.”
Jackson stared at him. He’d known that Ron and Chris and Captain Lane were dead, but the others? Some of them should have been hidden from Hope’s rampage—but then, it was quite possible that Hope had shattered the buildings they were using for shelter. God alone knew how many people had been killed in the final moments of absolute chaos.
A thought struck him. “And the President?”
“Dead,” Basil said, grimly. “Most of the captives in the White House died when Hope brought the building down on their heads. A couple survived, including Mr. Harrison—I believe he wants to debrief you when you’re feeling better. The Vice President came out of hiding and was sworn in by a local judge—the entire Supreme Court is dead, too. It’ll take us years to recover from the damage Hope inflicted.”
He smiled. “Fireman survived, although Hope did manage to stun him in the battle,” he added. “He rounded up a few dozen superhumans to help with clearing the wreckage and pulling survivors out before they died.”
“I wondered what had happened to him,” Jackson said, shaking his head. Carefully, he stood up, feeling a twinge of dizziness. “What’s going to happen now?”
“God knows,” Basil said. “Team Omega has been effectively annihilated. All four Captains are dead—along with the Sergeants. I don’t know if the team can be effectively rebuilt...”
“It will have to be rebuilt,” Jackson said. “What happens if the next mad superhuman is an out-and-out bastard?”
Basil nodded. “Where were you the day Kennedy was shot?”
“I was an egg in my mother’s tummy,” Jackson said, dryly. “I wasn't even born when Kennedy was shot.”
“I suppose not,” Basil said. “Was your mother born when Pearl Harbour was bombed?”
Jackson glared at him. “Is there a point to this?”
“Yes,” Basil said. “Everyone thinks of those events as ones that changed the world. We have people dating their lives from before and after Pearl Harbour was bombed, or President Kennedy was shot. Even if we weren't directly involved, we knew that the world had changed. Right now, the world changed after Hope attacked Washington DC—things are never going to be the same again.”
“I see,” Jackson said, slowly.
“Superhumans changed the world, but we were slow to realise just how much they changed the world,” Basil said. “I don't think that we wanted to think about it. The first set of superhumans were either heroes or outright villains; Fireman and Slaughter, for example. After that, things became more complex, and we worked out ways to control and neutralise most of the superhumans—the Young Stars might have been drug addicts, but they weren’t a threat to society. Even the ones like Dreamy Girl weren't a real danger.
“But now, the self-delusion has been torn away and we’re left to admit that with superhumans like Hope, we’re reduced to praying that they’re good guys. And even the good guys might have their own ideas about how to save the world, save the human race...and so now everything is changed, once again. What happens if we can’t find a certain method of taking out those superhumans when they pose a problem?”
“We die,” Jackson said, finally.
“Rule of the strong,” Basil said. “Back in the days of knights and castles, a strong man with a strong castle and a force of loyal henchmen could control vast swathes of territory and be damn near impossible to dislodge. The poor, suffering peasants couldn't do anything but obey; even if they wanted to fight back, they didn't have any real weapons. It wasn't until gunpowder and cannons made castles vulnerable that that era came to an end, yet even Sam Colt couldn't equalise the entire world. Places like Libya existed and inside revolt seemed impossible. And now we’re back to the days of knights and castles...
“In hindsight, maybe we should have panicked more when Fireman and the others first appeared.”
He shook his head. “Most of the government being dead means that there will have to be emergency elections. And most of the people who are standing up and running are doing so on anti-superhuman platforms. I don’t think we’re going to like the way they’ll take the country, or the world.”
Jackson frowned. “But we do have technology,” he pointed out. “Maybe we’ll find a technological answer.”
“Maybe,” Basil said. “But right now, technology isn’t providing a complete answer. What happens to the world if we never find a solution?”
***
Chester had been luckier than he cared to admit. Hope, for whatever reason, had ordered him held in a sealed room in the White House. That room had been knocked down along with the building, but it had protected Chester long enough for him to crawl out. After he’d been recovered by one of the emergency teams, he’d been flown to meet with the Vice President and assist him in regaining control over the country. It wouldn't be an easy task.
“I want you to tak
e control of what remains of the SDI,” the Vice President had said. It would be easier said than done, now that General Kratman was in a coma. The overt team was dead, and much of the covert team had gone underground. Some of them might take the opportunity to vanish completely. “We need to develop new superhuman defences as quickly as possible.”
New York had shown a remarkable outpouring of sympathy for the dead superhumans of the SDI, now that Hope and the Saviours had been destroyed. The remains of the SDI building were surrounded by citizens maintaining a silent vigil, while those who had worshipped superhumans right from the start were claiming that the SDI had merely been pushed into another universe and would one day return to Earth. Chester would have liked to believe that that was true, but that was a comic book answer. The real world didn't have superhumans, no matter how powerful, coming back from the dead. Only one superhuman could make anything like that claim and he was, technically, a zombie animated by his own will.
Team Omega Page 44
