by Ben Mason
“So I let the ballbuster escort me up like a precious maiden?”
“Keep calling me names and I might drop you on your head,” Siv said.
“I’ll take us up. All of us,” Christoph said. Taking a deep breath, staring at the glass dome of the ceiling, the gate of its metal ceiling locked in place. The circle of power spilled out, covering the ground, then Dominic and Siv.
“Tell us when,” Dominic said, testing his feet.
“That won’t be necessary,” Christoph said. Some of the fog had drifted past him, into him, and he accepted it. If he had been thinking, he would have stopped himself from showing a hand he was able to keep hidden. But he wasn’t thinking. He was relishing: the power, the pride.
The hunger.
He tried to hold on to the last thought, tried to examine it when all three of them came off the ground rising up slowly. Siv’s eyes sharpened, her shield held under her. Dominic’s eyes widened. “Nowaynowaynowaynoway,” he whispered over and over again as they moved higher and higher. Keeping his mind focused, Christoph nudged them to the right. Most people put the important rooms on the right-hand side. It was one of those societal things. When they reached the fifteenth floor, he carried them over the lip of the raised cream-colored steel railing and back onto the ground.
“I thought you said you were an expert?” Siv asked, quirking an eyebrow. There was a frown on her face, but her eyes were glittering.
Christoph gave her a wink. “I don’t feel that old.”
She blushed, and for the first time since Dominic had appeared on his front step, Christoph felt hope flare in him.
“Whatever,” Dominic said, trying to shake it off.
Scanning the floor, Christoph saw there were seven thick double-sided metal doors in front of them. All of them had runes carved into them: Chinese, Norse, and another language that made Christoph’s head ache when he stared too long. “Interesting protection.”
“We’re not sure where the last one came from,” Siv said. “They were welded in when we transported them. But they work wonders. It was part of how we got the world governments to give us all those copies.”
Dominic sputtered. “Did you say world governments?”
“No,” Christoph said.
“But Chris.”
“The answer is no.”
“But…but…it’s the whole WORLD’S governments!” he said, waving his arms in the air helplessly.
“Yes, and you can choose to take their secrets and survive to gouge them or you can accept our help and let it go.” He lowered his chin and gave his old student a glare like he’d done back when Dominic’s worst enemy was acne.
“You’re the worst.”
“That’s why they called me the scourge of Selenium.”
“Not remotely what I meant.”
“You boys coming?” Siv asked. She was down the curved walkway, moving toward the door opposite them. How she was able to tell was a mystery, as they all looked exactly the same. Even the runes. Walking fast, their shoes scuffing the marble and echoing along the column, both men hurried. There was something eerie about the lack of sound in such a large place. Christoph shivered. The frigid-air conditioning had started to work its way into his bones. By the time they reached the door she had pulled up a glowing keypad, punched in the door’s numbers, and started on unlocking the runes.
“This is going to take a second,” she said, lost in her work.
A dull thud came from up above. Then another. Then three more. The sound of metal being peeled back layer by layer came, muffled from by remaining sheets of steel, each time a little louder than before.
Chapter 18
Christoph’s jaw locked in a grim line as Dominic moved closer to the edge, his hands at the ready.
“Uh…Watcher, I don’t think we have more time,” Dominic said, his shoulders bunched up, ready to fight.
“Give me a second!” she said, her shield facing out away from her as she moved her other hand faster, trying to turn the runes of lifeless black to shimmering green.
Inside, Christoph felt as if all the noise had been turned down, the sound hammering from outside, the frantic chatter between Siv and Dominic. Inside there was the fog. Calling to him. Hoping whatever was on the other side of the gate came in before the door unlocked. Hoping to be called to battle again. Hoping it wasn’t a bunch of machines but creatures made out of flesh and bone and blood. Hoping—
He straightened his spine. “I am Christoph Holtz,” he whispered under his breath. “Gravitas. Master of mass and the best damn supervillain the world has ever seen.” Flicking his gaze over to his former apprentice, he was grateful he hadn’t been seen. There was one last chance to give a lesson on how to behave one’s self in battle.
Unbuttoning his coat, Christoph waited as the last of the steel was ripped from above and moonlight lanced down. A figure dropped from above, landing on the side of one of the steel dividers, standing perfectly horizontal on the sixteenth floor. Dominic’s infamous Bowler Hat.
The next figure dropped beside it. A doppelgänger. The other three were the same. They walked forward, their clothing hanging to one side. Their hats stayed in place.
Christoph felt his blood boil. They were defying gravity. They were defying him. Holding his hand out he uttered one word: “Fall.”
The metal ripped like tissue paper in jagged strips, dropping with the tweed-suited men. There was no crash. “Get ready. That won’t hold them for long.”
Holding his hands out at his sides, Christoph listened for any vibrations beneath them. The building was eerily silent. The one sound was the air-conditioning droning on and the echo of the din in his ears. “Siv, darling, how is the door coming?”
“You aren’t up to darling yet,” she said, her shield at the ready. Her fingers were racing across the runes. “And don’t talk to me. You’ll interrupt my concentration.”
“Well God forbid we do ack!” Dominic said as a hand broke through from the floor and grabbed him. Beneath Christoph the floor began to crack, and before he was able to move, it crumbled.
The air rushed past his face. Zipping past a few colorful blurs, Christoph realized what had happened. He was falling through fifteen levels of holes to the ground below. It had taken him six floors to realize this. A weight landed on his back, wrapping itself around his neck, arms, and legs like an anaconda. “You didn’t…buy me…dinner first,” he wheezed as he fought for air. He tried increasing his mass and found the limbs constricting him shifting throwing his focus off. He was going to die.
The sight of the floor burned itself into his brain as he moved closer and closer, struggling to breathe and not crush his face into the ground. Wrenching his neck free, he took in a deep breath—
And the fog rolled in.
Instantly he was aware of Dominic the two embedded men (or robots) in the wall, the other two holding him. He froze them all one inch from the ground, then let them drop the rest of the way. Swinging his head back, he felt the nose of his assailant turn into putty without the satisfying crunch. That was the problem of facing boneless opponents. One was never able to be sure he was making headway.
Tilting to the side, he increased the mass of his opponent until the man sloughed off and smashed into the ground. Dominic had thrown one of his opponents into a counter and was struggling to get up as he fought off the other.
Holding a hand out, Christoph lightened Dominic’s load. Literally. The robot shot up and out into the air. “Home run,” Dominic said, panting.
“Think he’ll make it to the moon?”
“Mars.” Dominic grinned. Christoph gave his own conspiratorial chuckle. For a moment they were back in the old days.
Two dark shapes swung in from overhead and landed crouched in front of them as the other two started to work themselves out of their tight quarters. The one in front of Christoph had made the mistake of being right in front of Vanguard. Vanguard who was frozen. Vanguard who, while frozen, was still plenty indestructible (or the nearest t
hing as far as Christoph was aware). Increasing the mass of the blue-emblazoned blunderhead, he saw the man drop and fall, face-first (that was an added bonus) right onto the robot and sink them both into the ground. His opponent writhed like a bug, unable to do a thing about it.
That left three.
Dominic swung his crouched opponent into the other advancing two, making them tumble backward. Christoph rushed forward and stood by his former protégé’s side. “I suppose it would be too much to ask for you to remember any of our old maneuvers.”
“You kidding? You drilled those things into my head. I still have nightmares,” he said. His hair was unruly, a wild patch of black tendrils. Beneath them his dark eyes were glittering. “How about ‘Atlas’?”
“Good idea.”
Lifting up the tossed tweed suit, Dominic lifted it over the other two, and his eyes flicked over to Christoph. Focusing on the robot, he kept increasing the mass. Fifty times. One hundred. The weight was coming faster than it ever had, not like water pouring out of a faucet, but rapids raging from a waterfall. Dominic was sweating under the strain, his face turning red, his features twisting with exertion.
The other two tweed suits staggered up, starting to get their bearings and (Christoph was impressed) adjusting their hats.
“Anytime you’re ready,” Dominic called out.
“Not yet,” Christoph said. Two hundred. Three.
The robots took one step forward.
Four hundred. Five.
“Now!” Christoph shouted.
Dominic let go. It caught the other robot square in the head flattening it and the neck like an accordion, crushing it like a half-melted horror from some forgotten wax museum. The other one dodged left and ran for them.
Dominic’s shoulders slumped.
The fog howled in Christoph, begging for more. Begging for blood. Dominic’s or his or every hero in the lobby, it didn’t matter. But if Christoph wanted more power, the price was clear. The fog needed to be fed. The pressure welled up in him as he saw the tweed suit charge and he pushed it aside.
It howled.
He ignored it, standing straight, ready to face the end.
The robot slammed into them both.
Christoph had been hit a few times before without making himself denser. They had been excruciatingly painful experiences. This one was no different. Judging from the sounds his body was making, three of his ribs were cracked along with one of his forearms, and his spine was creaking under the pressure. Not to mention bruising. Thankfully, no matter how badly he was beaten, purple matched well with black.
The tweed suit stood up, surveyed the data, then started to move over slowly to Dominic, who must have caught the brunt of the attack.
Christoph tried to get up. His mouth and nose tasted like copper. His tongue stung a little from being bitten. His body radiated agony. He wanted to get up. Twenty years ago he would have gotten up, even to save a black sheep like Dominic.
Now he was struggling to breathe. And the fog was nowhere to be found.
Dominic grunted at the robot. “Hey. Dickbag.”
It stopped and regarded him. “Up.”
It started to crane its neck when Siv came slamming down, shield first, a green meteor of fury pulping him into the ground. Her feet wobbled as she stood up, and her jeans were torn in some places that, while not indecent, made it hard for Christoph to look anywhere else. “I leave you two alone for two minutes and you go and try to get yourselves killed. You suck.”
“Debatable,” Christoph said, taking her hand, pain flowing down his sides as he got up. “Thank you for your assistance, Dominic,” he said, tipping his head to his former apprentice.
“Told you it’s Cerebrus.”
“How am I going to explain this when everyone gets unfrozen?” Siv said, staring at the carnage.
“What? I think it’s an improvement,” Dominic said, getting closer to Vanguard and the wriggling creature underneath.
“Don’t you even think about—” Siv started.
“Relax. I just want to see if I can get a clue as to who sent these.” Leaning forward Dominic’s hand touched the robot’s brow right as it and its three other companions froze, then melted into silver puddles.
There was no doubt Murakawa was behind it. It was a move straight from his personal manifesto. Christoph allowed a touch of annoyance on his face to hide his relief. It didn’t last long. The doors to the Watchtower swung open and a beaten and worn John limped in, his pistol pointed at Dominic.
“The robot took Julie. I have to trade it your friend Walt or it’s going to kill her.”
Chapter 19
“John, wait,” Christoph said hobbling in front of Dominic. Pain was lancing up his leg again, worse than before with Heat Streak. Worse than any other time in his life. His body was on fire. It hurt to talk, let alone breathe. “How do you know killing Dominic is going to bring her back?”
“Yeah,” Dominic said. He was squinting his eyes, obviously trying to muster the strength to tear the gun from John’s hand.
“Walt, move. Or is it Christoph? Seems you have a few different names I haven’t heard of.” The gun was starting to glow, a pinprick of light building in the barrel. “The man—robot—whatever—flew out of the sky covered in frost and snatched her up. It dropped a note telling me I had to bring Dominic down to First Selenium Trust. Not sure if it’s alive or dead, so I’m erring on the side of alive, unless you want to make that impossible,” he said, keeping the gun aimed at Dominic.
“I thought you sent that thing to space,” Christoph said, glaring.
“Not my fault you didn’t lighten it enough, Gravitas.”
The sound of a buzzing mosquito on nuclear growth hormones rang out, making the hair on Christoph’s arms and neck stand up. The blast had singed off the left shoulder of Dominic’s jacket, making the younger man stare at it in disbelief. “You shot me.”
“I shot at you. I’m no hero and if you don’t work with me I’m going to give you one hell of a rushed surgery.”
“You’re a doctor!”
“I’m a father.” He shot Siv a glance. “You understand.” She hesitated. The fight had left her weakened, albeit less so than either of her villain allies. If she didn’t help, there was no way of stopping him. “Please. She’s my one and only.”
Siv stared at Christoph then back at John and gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.
“Thank you.”
“I don’t believe this,” Dominic said. He held his hands up and Christoph could hear him trying to buy time. “Listen, John. I’m sorry. I am. I liked—like, like, okay? I like your little girl. She’s fun. A good kid. But Chris over here? He isn’t your average villain. Most of us—not me, but most of us—they’ll get rid of her anyway so there aren’t any witnesses. Now I’m willing to help you get revenge later. I’m good at that. But there is no way I’m letting you truss me up like a turkey and hand me over to some psycho.” He tried to smile and faltered. “What do you say?”
John eviscerated his left hand.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH, YOU SHOT ME,” Dominic howled in pain.
Pain the great motivator, which Christoph had taught Dominic to both respect and use. And he used it then. Falling down, he ripped the gun from John’s hands before scattering him like a bowling pin, tore the shield from Siv’s arm and smashed her with it, and twisted Christoph’s bad leg for good measure. He sprinted for the door, letting the adrenaline carry him outside and away before any of the group had time to pull themselves together.
John was the first up. He had flown across the room into the Voluptuous Volcano for a padded landing, and ran over to snatch his gun. His vest was stretched from the back where Dominic had pulled it. Christoph’s pant leg was much in the same shape, hopelessly stretched out. Siv had moved toward him, her shield rubbing her head. The glaze in her eyes screamed minor concussion, and Christoph had to fight to push the worry away. She was a professional. It wasn’t the first time she had t
o recover hurt.
John had picked up his gun again, checking the seamless angles of the gun for cracks or any telltale signs of breakage.
Testing his foot again, Christoph decided it was manageable to walk and not much more. He was wrung out and on the last dregs of his power. Whatever the crystal—
Serum. It was the serum. Not the crystal.
—had given him was wearing down. Unless he wanted to pay the toll which he most assuredly did not.
“John, wait,” Christoph said as his friend moved toward the door.
“What? That man’s running around, and if he’s right about whoever’s taken my girl, then I need to find my bargaining chip or she dies anyway.”
“I understand, John.”
“No,” he said quietly, “you don’t.”
Christoph stiffened. His teeth were clenched in pain, some of it physical. “I love her, too.” Christoph stared at his neighbor. “She’s the child I’ll never have.”
One foot facing the door, the other the lobby, John wavered. Then he moved back inside. “You have five minutes.”
Christoph turned to Siv.
“The door’s already unlocked. I should have the answers in three.” Her mouth quirked, her eyes sharpening. “Unless I need to drag you two deadweights up there.”
“That won’t be necessary, thank you,” Christoph said, giving her a bow. She took off, leaving the two men standing in the lobby. The sound of crumbling marble echoed and the smell of plaster and rubble drifted through the air.
“Do you believe him? About villains not being the same as you.”
Of course not, Christoph opened his mouth to say and stopped. John Kimble was a good man and deserved a decent answer. He thought of Julie Kimble, full of energy. How many of his colleagues, dead or alive, would he have trusted her safety with? Not Dominic. Franklin? No, he had abandoned Christoph the second it was convenient. Murakawa failed the list as well. And he had never been a villain to begin with. Not really.
Running down the list, Christoph faced a harsh reality.
