Blackjack Dead or Alive (The Blackjack Series Book 3)

by Ben Bequer

  To protect him from me.

  “Jesus, Dale!” I was shaken from my reverie by Apogee, who with the slightest touch sent me reeling, pitched face down on the ground. She turned me on my side and I felt her touch my back, her hand coming back drenched in blood.

  “You okay?” I said, screaming in pain, only now realizing something was protruding from my back.

  “Oh, Jesus,” she said, easing me down.

  “What’d I do now?” I joked, only then realizing the blurring edges of my vision. “Oh dear,” I muttered.

  “You’ve been hit, Dale. Sit still while I find-” she said, then stopped. Her face was inches from mine and I saw her go from fear to scowling rage. I turned to look, getting an upside down glimpse of a figure casually strolling away from us, toward the bundle of Secret Service agents that were fighting with the crowd to get Ashbourne to safety.

  It was Brutal.

  “Stay here,” she said, peeling herself off me and charging her fist.

  “Hit him before he charges up,” I said, but Apogee was out of earshot before I finished the first word. She rushed Brutal in a second and hit him with everything she had.

  And he didn’t flinch.

  Brutal stopped as the purplish anima Apogee hit him with faded into the ether and smiled as he glanced at her. He smiled and laughed, reaching out with his power, an invisible hand that slapped her across the campus.

  “Apogee,” I shouted, rolling on the ground and now lying on my belly.

  He didn’t relent, turning his attention to the Senator’s detail. The men scattered, flung about like ants, their life energy trailing off in green wisps that raced into Brutal’s chest, leaving Ashbourne lying on the grass, helpless.

  “Don’t do it, Brutal,” I shouted, climbing to my feet. The muscles in my back sang their displeasure, my legs felt rubbery and wobbled as they held my weight. I probed my back, my fingers running over the offending protrusion, jutting out of my ribcage, near the small of my back. A guttural scream followed a sharp tug as I tore the object out of me.

  I fell to my knees again, a bunched fist the only thing keeping me upright. I opened my blood soaked hand and saw the source of my agony. It was a bullet the length and width of a beer bottle at its base. The thing was coated with my blood and at the tip, a pointed bore still rotated, bits of my flesh were encrusted in the threads, dripping on the grass.

  “What the hell?”

  Brutal laughed, “Meant for the Senator, Blackjack, and through anything – and anyone that got in the way. You’ll have to accept my apologies.”

  I forced myself back up as he cackled, master of the moment. It was then that I realized what was happening around us. We were in a vortex of his power, a mini hurricane whipping the campus grounds with a howling fury. Brutal, Ashbourne, and I sat in the eye of the vortex, while the rest of the world was caught in the whipping currents, grabbing for handholds or being flung away at terminal speeds. My worst fears come to life. Brutal was already fully charged.

  It was over and there was nothing I could do.

  He watched dawning realization spread across my face, and threw his arms wide, his victory sealed. He was going to kill Ashbourne, me, everyone else on campus; there was no end to it.

  Apogee.

  “No,” I said, falling again to my knees. “Please, no.”

  Senator Ashbourne lay on the grass, shielding his eyes from the sharp winds and debris as it encroached on our peaceful buffer. He knew his fate and was ready to meet it with stoic calm. He would suffer and die, but Brutal would be denied the satisfaction of seeing the man brought low.

  Brutal took a step towards Ashbourne, maintaining the vortex with zero effort and said, “Oh good, the old man wants to meet his fate bravely. What do you think Blackjack? How long before I can get him screeching? Let’s start a pool. Winner gets to pull his arms off.”

  Apogee attacked him in a purple detonation, following up with an attack so fast and savage, I thought, for a moment that it might break through. Brutal didn’t move, never tried to defend himself, and though the force of her blows knocked him around, he never lost his balance. She broke away from for a second, charging her purplish anima banner for another go at him.

  Then he retaliated.

  Apogee skidded to her knees, tumbling to the edge of the vortex, screaming as he drained her life force. I looked around for help but no one else was near, no one was within Brutal’s power vortex. It was up to me.

  “No, Apogee,” I roared, and engaged the rocket boots, digging my foot hard into the throttle. Flames exploded from my feet, and I crossed the distance between us in a second, grabbing Brutal by his hair. We crossed the barrier his vortex winds created, tearing through them as it died in a whoosh of air, the crashing through a building.

  I got control of my boots and angled the control surfaces to ascend over the campus. We tore through the sound barrier once, then again, as I adjusted my grip onto his chest. Five seconds after takeoff, we were traveling at Mach 10, and my boots were taking us faster and higher.

  He didn’t fight me at all.

  Not like he had to. In a few seconds we would break the lower atmosphere, and I would run out of oxygen and die. Then he could return to the party. His power could transport him back to Ashbourne in an instant. I mean, what was I doing after all? This wouldn’t stop him at all. If anything, I was helping him, giving him a boundless power source to drain from. Well, it was Apogee’s plan wasn’t it? Get the guy away, anywhere but where he could hurt innocents. And then there was the added time it would give the heroes to gather themselves back at the school. At least there was that.

  I gripped him hard, my hands under his armpits now, squeezing into his flesh, but from the smile on his face, he was unbothered. Instead he stared at me the whole time up, as I fought against the wailing winds.

  “Blackjack,” he mouthed, his face dripping with disgust, halting our ascent with a violent jerk that rattled me like a marionette on strings. He slipped from my grasp, hovering feet from me, while also holding me in place, even as thrust poured from my boots.

  “They will never love you, Blackjack,” he said with an amplified voice that resounded through the clouds. “Never. To them you’ll always be the bad guy, and nothing you do will change that. You know how important it is to cultivate a villain to them? It’s everything, man. Why can’t you see that? They need the bad guys out there to keep everyone afraid.”

  “You’re totally insane, you know that?” I said, aiming my thrust in his direction, trying to get closer.

  “I’m the only sane person out here. I’m the only one that’s doing something about it. Well, I’m tired of talking about it. I’m going to go back down there and show them what they really have to fear. I’m going to-”

  I got close enough to grab him by the coat and hit him three times, fast strong shots, catching him in the head. He didn’t react, didn’t even flinch.

  “You can’t hurt me, Blackjack. You killed the only person that ever stopped me, darling.”

  I was about to punch him again but he let his head dangle back, as if he was enjoying the wind in his hair, his eyes closed, his face peaceful.

  “I’ve been dreaming of this day for decades, you see?”

  And he started draining me.

  I’d felt the coldness welling inside me before, back in Amsterdam, but this time it was different – so close, so focused. His power ripped into me, like a gutting hand tearing through my skin and flesh, his power grasping clumsily for my soul. I tried closing my eyes, but the harrowing glow burned past my eyelids. I could hear and smell my flesh searing, and a hollow scream as his power overwhelmed my ability to withstand pain. I was fading, dying.

  He came closer, clasping my face in his hands.

  “I lied, you know, about being okay with you killing Mighty,” he said, reveling in the ecstasy as my life energy surged into him.

  “I did,” he continued, reenergized as he swam in unlimited power. “It fucking brok
e my heart when I heard he was dead. You denied me that pleasure and that gnaws at me. I wonder how you would handle it – to have your dreams dashed by some nobody with a cheesy cape.”

  Brutal’s eyelids fluttered and he threw his head back, as if in orgasmic bliss.

  “My, my. Aren’t we full of surprises, Blackjack,” he said. “So much to feed from.”

  Then I remembered Bloodstrike, her ecstasy when she drained me. And Claire, who had more control than either Bloodstrike or Brutal. She could have feasted on me, drained me dry, but she didn’t. If anything she nibbled. At times, she seemed almost scared to do it. Could Brutal have a top limit? And if so, what would happen if he got too much?

  “More power than you can imagine,” I said, straining against the agony, fighting to pronounce every vowel. “I was in the presence of a Lightbringer. They made me more powerful than you’ll ever become.”

  His smile faded a little and I pressed on, “That’s right. I’ve been to Shard World.” I was unsure if he would know what it meant, but I went on. “Same as Retcon and the Original Seven.”

  “Is that so?”

  “That’s what has them so scared of me,” I said, groaning, fighting the urge to fade, to surrender to the urge to sleep. “That’s why I’m higher on the list than you. Why they didn’t give a flying fuck about you until I put you on the map.”

  Belittling him did the job. Enraged, Brutal engaged his power full-bore, his eyes widening as he saw no limit to what I could give him. We were at the epicenter of a nuclear storm vast enough to be visible across the globe. The sheer amount of energy he was absorbing was astounding, yet I was giving him more than he could handle.

  “Yes,” he said, straining, groaning. “Yes!”

  I clawed at him, grabbing at his face as the pain became white-hot, blinding, numbing my senses, deafening me to my own screams. He laughed, swathed in unconscionable power swirling through him, seeming to have no limit to his ability to drain me.

  “YES,” Brutal screamed, enraptured by the force raging through him. He was more powerful now than he had ever been.

  The first crack opened across his right cheek, branching across the smooth shaven skin like lines on a map. He seemed unaware of it, bathed in an illuminated glory, but I saw them, spreading, slices of light streaking from his face. Brutal released me and spread his arms wide, accepting everything I had to give as we floated high above the world. My boots were long dead and I was breathing fire, drenched in our combined energies.

  Beams of raw energy spilled from his eyes like beacons, and he regarded me as a god, as a Lightbringer might.

  “How are you doing this, how are you still alive?” he said. “Who are you?”

  The fissures spread across his face and neck, and slivers feathered off into the wind. His eyes widened as the pain began to envelop him. He was glowing like a burning star, streaming and iridescent. Gravity reasserted itself as he lost control of his power and we were falling. His clothes burned away, along with his hair and fingernails. Every orifice was backlit by bright green light as his body failed to metabolize the energy he had absorbed.

  “It’s too much” he screamed, as the first beam of energy transected him like a green lance. “It’s too much!”

  His body was a web of cracks and creases, overloaded cells burning as they died. Another small explosion erupted, this time from his leg, the beam grazing my arm as we both flailed, searing the skin. The skin split along his back, revealing a spinal column that glowed vibrant green, his blood evaporating before it hit the air. As the energy tore him apart, pieces at a time, I realized it wasn’t going to dissipate.

  He was going to explode.

  I looked down and saw a maze of green and grey. There was a city down there, and here I sat with a bomb falling into their midst. I desperately triggered the throttle in my boots to no avail, and he was in no condition to control his descent, even if he wanted to. A few feet separated us, and I didn’t have more than a few seconds, so I pulled my arms in tight, pointed my feet and angled into him. I did too well, sailing past him. I kicked my legs out in front of me, throwing my arms out, barely catching him by the left arm and leg.

  He was below me, his screaming dug deep into my brain, the loose energy flaring off his body burning me wherever it touched. I saw the city racing towards us over his shoulder, and I wrenched my hips hard, spinning at the waist and heaving with all of my soul, using all of my strength and momentum to hurl Brutal into the sky. He flew away from me diagonally, the sky big and blue, ready to accept him. The explosion tore open the sky, the force tossing me into an awkward tumbling spin as viridian flames ravaged me.

  And it was my turn to fall.

  I have to admit a peaceful calm came over me. The flames had bit deep enough that my nerve endings had been scorched away, so there was no pain. I didn’t know how high I was, but I was certain I had already reached terminal velocity, about a hundred and fifty miles an hour. I had passed the point where the curvature of the earth was visible, so it wouldn’t be long until I slammed hard and it would all be over.

  Yeah, this was the way to go – out like a light.

  I drew my limbs in tight and managed to halt my spin, and got into the typical skydiver’s position, spread eagle, cutting through the air. When I tossed Brutal, my own course had changed, and now it looked like I was over water, just off the coast of some land mass. I had rocketed up as straight as I could, but factoring the rotation of the earth, I must have drifted a few miles East over Vermont, and just at the edge of my sight was the coast with towns like Portland, Biddeford, and Brunswick. My fall would be visible for miles, like a meteor crashing into the water, but no one would see it, and no one would recover my body.

  This wasn’t like the fall from the ruined C-17 a few weeks back. Instead of having a parachute to slow my fall, however damaged, I was going to hit the water fast enough no superpower would save me.

  I was naked save for a sliver of seared clothing on my body and the remnants of my wrecked boots. I could build anything out of anything, but the leather was blackened and charred, wires melted and useless. I had nothing to work with. My left boot sputtered and flamed, the plasma cell still active and complaining, but without the rest of the device, a busted power supply wasn’t going to be any good.

  Closing my eyes, I settled in for the inevitable fall, thinking back to my brief conversation with Mirage on the subject. The sonofabitch had been right to question Nietzsche. Soon I was going to prove his point in spectacular fashion. But in a way, I was right as well; I had met my fate and changed it. When folks would talk about me in the future, they’d remember a guy who died trying, who died standing in the way of bastards like Brutal and innocent folk.

  Coach would smile when she heard what happened here and say something about a falling star burning bright, or some such other college football metaphor. I think she’d approve of what I did.

  My only regret with Jeff was never having a chance to hash things out with him, to find out whether he was a friend. I’d do things different with him if I had another chance. Hell, just have a fucking beer with the guy.

  Same with Epic. Jesus, to even be thinking that…

  I guess I’m going to the grave with few friends. The only other guy that would mourn me probably died saving my life back on Utopia, but if he was still alive, wandering the streets of Los Angeles like some mad, homeless person, Black Razor would hear of my death and be truly saddened. Then again, he’d probably confuse me with someone else.

  Delphi would just shake his head in disgust, disheartened that I never followed his philosophy; make a living without making waves. I was a bad pupil to him – a bad friend, to him and to Serpentis, who’d cry with sorrow and happiness that I was gone from her life forever.

  Apogee would grieve for a while, but she’d also move on fastest than most. She was a resilient girl and some other beau would come around to tickle her fancy. It ate at me that it would end before we even had a chance to get started
, but a guy like me, and a woman like her – it wasn’t meant to happen.

  As I fell, I hoped they got their act together in the future, got ready for the Lightbringers. I wanted to be there when they came, to thump the first one I saw in the face and remind them that we’re not going down that easy – that we’re not joining their little menagerie without a fight. I guess it’ll fall to other, greater minds. If Jeff turns to it, he’ll think of something. Maybe that’s what the tower has been all this time, a preparation for the inevitable fight where there will be no heroes or villains, just humanity against an unspeakable evil.

  Looking down, my track had changed drastically in the past few moments, a heavy crosswind taking me toward the coast. I was drifting so much that I would fall over a landmass. Not that it made much of a difference. A mangled body made for good press, I guess, and bonafide confirmation of my passing would bring comfort to a lot of people. I had a vision of Apogee running until she found me, the only one who cared enough to look, but I didn’t want her to see me like that.

  Below there was a small town, nearing quickly. There were people down there, unaware of the crashing lug that was going to fall on their heads. And the plasma cell was unstable, ready to go. I could let it go, rip it from my grasp, but light as it was, it would be more beholden to the crosswinds that were bringing me ashore. And in falling there was no guarantee the thing wouldn’t blow.

  I reached for it and turned my back to the ground, just a few seconds from passing the lower clouds in my descent. I figured I had less than two minutes to disengage the device, somehow. My last act wasn’t going to be to kill a few thousand people in the explosion. No, I wasn’t going to have that.

  The cell was enclosed, but with a simple twist, I ripped off the cast and looked at the gleaming power it emanated. My brain locked up, and I couldn’t think quickly enough of how to turn it off. The plasma emitter was the obvious idea, but ripping it out would release the plasma reservoir, and when the superheated gas sparked, it would go up like a roman candle.