by Ben Mason
“We need to head back to the Watchtower. We can break the freeze if we use their fail-safes. Unless Murakawa turned them off, at least outside the city?”
John holstered his gun. “No such luck. I tried calling several times. Wendy didn’t answer. Neither did anyone else.”
“Let’s move,” Siv said, shouldering past both of the men, moving so fast it was a struggle for John to keep up. Christoph decided now was his chance. He moved in closer, his feet protesting the entire time as he closed the distance.
“Siv?”
He saw the muscles in her back tense.
“We need to talk.”
He ended up doing most of the talking with her asking fewer and fewer questions as the story went on. By the end she wasn’t speaking at all or—judging from how red her face was—breathing much either.
“Well?” he asked after he was finished.
“I should punch you in the face.”
“That’s all?”
“I should punch you in the face so hard you fall into the sun.”
“Ah. The old standby. Vanguard used it a few times, if I’m correct. Or Light Beacon. He played a little fast with the rules too, didn’t he?”
Siv flinched. Her features softened. “Dominic?”
“Dominic.”
“We didn’t know until decades later.”
“Before or after Beacon’s brain aneurysm?”
“Right before.”
It took a second for the words to register. “No.”
Siv slowed her pace, matching it with his. Her voice was low. “He was going to take down all the Watchers stood for. We—we made a choice. I’m not proud of it. Kind of like you, huh?”
“Exactly like me,” Christoph said. He sighed, the anger leaving him. Staring at the woman he had loved for so long, he felt…nothing. She was attractive—gorgeous—but many of the qualities he had admired about her were ripped away. He saw in her face the hurt as she saw the change in him. She must have been coming to the same realization.
“I guess no date night,” she said.
“Not for a little while at least. Give it time. Another fifty years?”
“Well now—” she started to say before the building next to them burst into dust. In the haze were glittering teeth, sickly yellow-green eyes, and a vicious growl.
“Clifford?” Christoph asked.
And the dog lunged.
Chapter 26
All three of them ducked as the dog rushed forward. Siv’s shield came up just in time, the energy sparking as the claws raked over it. Landing on the other side, Clifford wheeled around, destroying the fronts of the shops and houses around them.
“Odin’s Blood,” Siv said.
Christoph tried to think about his dress shoes. He didn’t want to throw up on them. It seemed Murakawa had been able to test the crystal. And what it had created was hideous.
All of the dog’s hair was shed, the skin purplish, the veins glowing green. The eyes were the color of puss, a hideous light coming out of them, sick with anger and fear. A bubbling foam came from the mouth, and when Clifford growled there was a whimper in the back of his throat. There were scratch marks over his nose and the front of his chest. Self-inflicted.
His eyes moved over the three and settled on Christoph. His back legs tensed.
If you’re not busy. The doctor had always had a morbid sense of humor.
John’s gun went off several times. Clifford shrugged the blasts off, not bothering to notice.
He leapt forward, cuffing one paw at Christoph who rolled to the side. His stomach was screaming in pain, and he struggled to get up.
But deep inside the fog reeled forward, working to restore him. Pulling him toward the dog.
You promised. Promised blood. Next time. Its tendrils shoved forward like a tidal wave.
Standing up, unbuttoning his jacket. He had seen Clifford’s eyes. The dog was at war with himself. He needed to be put down like the loyal beast he was. And he had promised next time. “Fine,” he said.
The fog danced and quivered with joy. It was a spectator in the arena, ready to watch the bloodshed.
“Siv, John, the dog is focused on me. Any ideas?” he said as he lightened his mass. Suddenly, the fog was willing to help him…up to a point. The pain was still intense and he had a fraction of the power he needed.
“Watchtower. I can activate the defenses,” Siv said.
“And this,” John said, throwing his gun.
Christoph caught it.
“Good luck, Chris,” John said. He and Siv ran off. Clifford’s eyes tracked them for a second.
“It’s rude to stare off when you have guests, Clifford,” Christoph intoned. He moved closer and the stench of the dog got to him. The drool had been replaced with decay. Death, rotting from the inside out.
“You deserved better than this,” he whispered.
For a moment, Clifford’s eyes softened and the overgrown puppy was back. His tail wagged once before freezing, his body stiffening. The foam was pouring from his mouth like a waterfall, bits of blood leaking from cut gums.
Christoph held out his hand, motioning with his fingers. “Come.”
The ground cracked and they were off.
In his youth Christoph had played the occasional game of pinball (back when it cost a quarter for a game). Now he felt he was the silver ball, landing on rooftops, pushing off from fire escapes, moving left and right a step away from being ripped apart. The gun was useless and the fog was holding back any more power. It wanted him as the rabbit. It wanted chaos and death.
Well, it was going to have to wait another day. It wasn’t the first to wish him ill tidings, and ancient power or not, it wasn’t going to be the last. Besides, they had never traded first names. You weren’t allowed to die from some nameless foe.
Keeping an eye on the center of town, Christoph moved closer to the Watchtower. The glittering ugly waste of electricity was impossible to miss. When he was within two blocks of it the lights started flicking on and off.
He breathed out a sigh of relief. Leaping forward, he felt claws tugging at the back of his shoe. His leg moved with it and his shin lit up in agony. All of his power left him and he tumbled onto a rooftop face-first, his rump sticking in the air.
Ah, well, at least there was no one around to take pictures. Struggling to stand up he dusted his clothes as Clifford moved in. He held up one finger as he checked his pocket square and did his best to fix his hair before deciding it was hopeless. Standing (barely) before the large dog, he gave one nod. “I’m sorry, Clifford. I failed you.”
The dog paced forward, turned his head, and opened his jaws, letting out a blast of raw, rotting breath. His teeth were at Christoph’s throat when his head exploded into flames. The rest of the body followed quickly.
Vanguard hovered above, his eyes glowing red.
“You’re not still sore about the whole ‘using you as a human club thing,’ are you?” Christoph asked. Vanguard moved closer, the red turning white-hot.
“I’ll take that as a yes. But listen, there are more important problems. Murakawa—”
“Kill,” Vanguard rasped.
Christoph stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening.
Vanguard didn’t kill. He never had.
Murakawa had done it. He had taken over the mind of the greatest superhero ever.
He struggled to try to think of a solution as the Watchtower’s windows shattered and the rest of the Watchers poured out.
Chapter 27
The chaos behind them provided the distraction. Whatever control Murakawa had over Vanguard’s mind wasn’t nuanced. Then again, the big, blocky moron never had been the sharpest tool in the shed.
Christoph ran toward the fire escape, or limped, truthfully. His leg felt as if it had fallen off and been glued back on haphazardly. He wasn’t going to make it. Not unless he had another distraction. He fired John’s gun in Vanguard’s face. The Watcher turned back to face him, eyes glowing
.
Okay, not that. Definitely not that. What kind of gun prototype didn’t work on the most dangerous supers on the planet? When they hauled him in for questioning after this was all done (assuming he survived), Christoph planned on complaining about their shoddy equipment.
Vanguard swung down, landing hard on the roof, the sonic boom cracking the concrete.
“You know, that’s someone’s roof as well,” Christoph said.
“Kill,” Vanguard said.
“My, you’ve gotten dumber since the last time we met. You used to say whole sentences. Remember?”
The blue veiny meathead curled a fist and held it up, twisting it back and swinging.
He hit air as Christoph adjusted his weight and dropped down several floors, landing in a La-A-Boy recliner on the ground floor and smashing it to pieces. Fortunately, there had been no one in it. Unfortunately, there was a large woman on the couch beside it, screaming right in his ear.
“You can see me?” Christoph said.
“GET OUT,” she shrieked before screaming incoherently.
Not good. Civilians running around while the greatest hero of several generations went wild was a recipe for disaster. Christoph rammed the front door, ripping it off its hinges.
“Oh hell,” he whispered as he saw what greeted him. Not actual hell, of course. Christoph had been to an actual hell. One of those magical dimensions so worshipped by death cults (who managed to make wearing black look terrible). It had been filled with bones and ripping flesh, despair, and the kind of screams that, if he thought about them too long, forced him to stay up until sunrise.
This, he decided, was much worse.
The Watchers were attacking each other, the stronger heroes ripping heads off bodies, smashing others into paste on the sidewalk. Buildings were coming down and debris was flying everywhere. The sky was filled with so many people it looked like a cloud of mosquitoes. The noise and the screams were deafening. Thank any force above it had been after working hours when Murakawa froze the city. Otherwise the body count would have been unthinkable.
Christoph hurried down the street toward the Watchtower, dodging heroes. Above him he saw Vanguard tearing the throats out of…out of…
Out of two villains.
Oh hell. Oh hell, hell, hell.
It wasn’t Vanguard or even all the heroes. It was every super in the city.
Murakawa was making them kill each other. A sick knot formed in his stomach and he moved faster to the tower. There was no telling what had happened to Siv or even to John. The supers weren’t aiming for civilians, but they weren’t trying to avoid them either. And with Dominic being the fulcrum, there was a chance of that changing.
A shadow covered him as a block of ice came down from above. It was the size of a tank and it was moving too fast. Christoph closed his eyes.
When he opened them, Siv stood there crouching with her shield. One side of her stomach was red with blood. “That’s two you owe me, Chris. Date or not, you owe me dinner.”
“Done,” Christoph said as they started moving away from the violence. “We need to find Murakawa. He started earlier than I imagined.”
“How did he get everything set up so fast?”
“No idea. He’s good, but no one’s that good. How’s John?”
Siv smashed the Hood Fly with her shield like a bug. “Said his head is buzzing. I think whatever put these guys over the edge is contagious.”
“And you?” he said, pointing to her injury.
“A few cheap shots as everyone rushed to barrel outside. There isn’t a single person left. I think if we get back we can set up the shields and commandeer a ride out of here. I’ll need a minute. Think you can give it to me if we get any attention?”
Christoph shook his head. “Whatever power I have left from the crystal is either gone or keeping me together. I’m guessing it’s the latter.”
“Well then, I guess we’ll have to be lucky,” Siv said as they came to the base of the steps. “Keep a lookout and if someone swings in, duck.”
“I will not leave you,” Christoph said, holding the marble handrail for support.
“You always were too noble for your own good,” Siv said, shooting him a smirk. It was hard for him to tear his eyes away. Minutes ago he had been sure he was no longer attracted to her. Now he wondered if their attraction was based on their occupations, on the juxtaposition.
Probably something unhealthy in that.
As she started chanting, Christoph pushed to expand his radius, first to try to magnify the gravity around them, then to reduce it. Each time he got the same exact response: close to zero. It would have been embarrassing if there had been anyone watching. So instead, Christoph watched helplessly as his city fell apart. The sky was red with energy beams being thrown back and forth, figures falling like stars in meteor showers every few seconds. A city of monsters unleashed.
Murakawa had never wanted to take over the world. He had wanted to end it. Just like Dominic. Just like whatever was in the fog and the crystal.
The fights started to edge closer.
“Any day now, Siv.”
Her chanting didn’t stop. It did sound angrier. He was going to get reprimanded later for messing with her concentration. Again Christoph tried to extend his power, focused on the pain in his leg, tried to use it as fuel. It felt as if it was hovering far above him, deep off in the sky out of reach.
Some of the block types (they were called “zeroes” for their lack of powers by the classless) started moving in. Christoph fired John’s gun and picked them off. His aim was atrocious, hitting them in the arm or the leg more often than not. Meaning they were able to scream.
A blue blur broke his concentration. Vanguard. The man was cutting down his friends and foes, slicing them in half as he cut past the speed of sound. He was weaving closer. He stopped dead in front of them, his head starting to turn.
“Done,” Siv said. “Because of the damage, it’s going to take a few seconds.”
“We don’t have them.”
Vanguard’s eyes glowed. Christoph stepped forward. This was his punishment to accept. “Let’s get it over with.” At least he had the right suit on.
Vanguard fired.
Siv’s shield came around, the runes activating. For a second red mixed with green as they battled for dominance before negating each other, knocking both Siv and Christoph backward. She landed in his arms.
His hands felt hot and the smell of pennies hit his nostrils.
No.
Staring down, he saw her breathing, saw the red mess of her shirt.
“Siv?”
She didn’t respond. She was in shock.
“Siv, please,” Christoph said. Then he said something he had never said before: “I can’t do this without you.”
She didn’t answer him as Vanguard approached. He heard the sluggish whine of the runes charging, the dim light starting to build. It was taking too long. They weren’t going to make it in time. They were going to die.
Chapter 28
Christoph saw a blue outline because of the tears in his eyes. For all his talk, for all his position in the community (no matter how long it had been), he was going to die a sobbing mess, holding a woman he had once loved and hadn’t been able to save.
So it was true. There really was a sharp drop-off when you got older.
“Kill.”
“Sure, go ahead and give the DA an easy indictment,” Christoph said. He refused to close his eyes. If he was going to die, he was going to face it. His one hope was that the gore would ruin the spandex. One last bit of revenge even in death.
Wummmmm. The sound was low and intense, making Christoph’s shoulders tense. Vanguard dropped, grabbed his ears, and fell down, his mouth opened in a silent scream. Around them, several supers were hit with blue bolts of energy, the same kind as in John’s gun. A team of men in black with silver high-tech torcs around their necks rushed in. One man with silver hair (quickly turning white) and steel-
blue eyes with plenty of secrets led them. In one hand he held a silver box the shape of an old cassette player. If cassette players came from outer space and threw off orange light.
“Come on. That isn’t going to hold him forever once he finds some insulation to stuff his eardrums.”
“I thought you said they were putting you out to pasture,” Christoph said.
“Yeah, well, a good catastrophe needs old foxes as much as it needs young lions,” Robert said.
“How did you find us?”
“Your friend John left us a message. We were already getting ready to suit up when Murakawa whammied the whole world. Made it easy.”
“Everything’s gone sideways.”
“That’s what happens when you mess with mind control,” Robert said, tapping the torc. “We had this built just in case. We’ll give your friend one once we’re inside.
Scrunching his eyes, he stared at the building. “What’s the ETA on these runes’ activation?”
“Ten seconds ago.”
Robert touched the torc at his neck and mumbled something. The other men in his unit started moving back, keeping up a high rate of fire. The last one got in before the field went up as four supers rebounded against it harmlessly.
“Come on,” Robert said, “let’s get the lady inside.”
The medic bay hadn’t been completely destroyed. John had worked as best as he was able to keep Siv comfortable, which meant an IV drip and some nanites to stabilize her. After he and Robert had left, Christoph stayed behind.
Even with the wreckage the place was sterile and clean and too white. It smelled of burnt wires and ozone and magma, meaning the Voluptuous Volcano had stormed through on her way out. So much destruction and in the middle of it was a small bed with a woman who seemed even smaller. The blood loss had made her shrink, her skin yellowing, having lost its healthy glow.
