by Jay Phillips
“616,” the teleporter yelled across the distance. “I need you to stop right there.”
The Detective didn’t slow down; he continued his measured pace towards them.
The teleporter held up a piece of paper. “616, I have here an arrest warrant for you signed by Supreme Chancellor Rogers himself.”
The Detective continued his pace towards them, neither speeding up nor slowing down, just moving forward.
“You,” the teleporter said as he repeatedly waved around the piece of paper, “are under arrest ”
The Detective continued walking. He could feel his anxiety building, allowing his oversized adrenal gland to begin pumping, pushing adrenaline throughout his body.
“If you are not willing to come peacefully, these three men behind me,” the teleporter pointed to his armed companions, “have instructions to terminate you at their discretion. You are coming with us one of two ways, alive or in a body bag.” The teleporter smiled a smug-filled grin.
The Detective continually moved forward, less than twenty yards away now. He could feel all of the adrenaline pumping through his heart, into his extremities. He was faster, stronger, and any fear or dread had evaporated from his consciousness. The short, fat guy spoke again, but The Detective couldn’t hear a word above the sound of his own tempered breathing.
“This is your final warning, 616,” the teleporter yelled. “If you come any closer, these three men will be instructed to---”
The Detective didn’t allow him to finish, pulling the gun from his coat and firing a bullet into each of the armed guards’ heads, killing them instantly before any of the three could even raise their weapons above their waists. The Detective leaped the remaining distance, grabbed the teleporter by the back of the neck, and slammed his face hard against the concrete ground, breaking the man’s glasses and nose simultaneously.
The Detective placed the barrel of his gun against the back of the teleporter’s head, while still holding a hand against the back of his neck. The smell of urine suddenly filled The Detective’s senses, and he looked down to see yellow liquid pouring from the teleporter’s pants.
“I’m sorry,” the teleporter cried, blubbery tears and snot flowing from his eyes and nose. “I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want, just tell me. I’ll do it. Please don’t kill me, please.”
The Detective pushed the gun barrel hard against the other man’s skull. “First,” The Detective said, “stop fucking crying. It’s really fucking embarrassing. You’re a grown ass man. Second, you have exactly five seconds to tell me everything you know before I put a goddamn bullet through your motherfucking brain.”
“I don’t know anything,” the teleporter mumbled, the tears still flowing.
“One.”
“I’m sorry,” he said between his snubs. “I’m just a clerical work---”
“Two,” The Detective said as he pulled the gun’s hammer back.
“Please, God, no!” the teleporter screamed. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Please, please, please, just don’t kill me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” The Detective said, his voice remaining calm even as the smell of piss was about to make him sick. “Exactly who called in this order on me?”
“It came from The Agent himself.”
“Anyone else have a say in this or just Rogers?”
“Just the Chancellor,” the teleporter blurted out. “I swear; I swear.”
“How did you know where I would be?” The Detective asked, pushing the gun as hard against the crying man’s skull as he could without breaking all the way through to the other side.
“We were told you would be going for the red sports car parked on top of this garage. That’s all we knew. I fucking swear.”
“Stand the fuck up, you whiny ass piece of shit.” The Detective pulled the teleporter up by the back of his neck, the gun never leaving the back of his head. “You have until I finish my five count to teleport me where I want to go. If you suddenly grow a pair, and I end up someplace other than where I want to go, half a fucking second after we get there, I pull this goddamn trigger until I run out of bullets. You understand me?” The Detective noticed the abnormal amount of obscenities escaping his lips, but he decided to forgive himself this once. He was a tad bit angry.
“Wherever you want to go,” the teleporter mumbled through his tears. “I promise I will take you wherever you want to go. Where do you want to go? Please don’t kill me.”
The Detective pressed the gun harder. “Take me to Psychosis’ estate. I have several questions for a pretty white haired lady I know.”
“Steven Quincy’s estate? The Chancellor had all of their servants sent away. I don’t think now is a good---”
“Three.”
“I’m sorry!” the teleporter screamed out. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t shoot, please. We’ll go, right now. Please, let me live. I don’t want to die.”
“Just shut the fuck up,” The Detective demanded, squeezing the back of the teleporter’s neck harder. “Teleport us there, and don’t make me ask again.”
The teleporter nodded, and the two men disappeared, leaving three corpses and a pool of urine as the only remaining evidence of their time there.
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Journal Entry
[Found on page 54]
Note: The following is an memo sent to the last President of the United states from his Secretary of Defense during the war. I found the file inside of Barren’s computer, and I have no idea how he was able to attain it.
To: President Brooks
From: Secretary Wilson
RE: Cure
Mr. President, I have news concerning your request for a cure for the mutations caused by the M-Virus. According to my top researcher, a temporary cure has been found which will disable the abilities of any superhuman for approximately five to ten minutes. For example, if the formula was used on Agent America, a man who currently possesses advanced levels of strength and a body which is virtually impervious to harm, he would, after receiving a dose, be rendered completely powerless for around five minutes, and for those five minutes, he would be vulnerable to injury or death.
According to the research, the formula can be mass produced in two separate forms, a liquid which can be injected and an inhalant which would require the subject to breathe it in. The research team is currently in the process of designing the machinery required to mass produce the two separate formulas. With your permission, they could begin production on the vaccine within a matter of days and have it placed into our soldiers hands in a mere few weeks. If this works as the research seems to indicate it will, we will finally have a weapon against the superhumans whose powers have rendered normal weaponry completely ineffective (ie: Agent America, The It, etc.)
By tomorrow morning, I will have all of the research and the official write-up on your desk, and hopefully, you will agree with me and see this as the turning point in this war we have both been waiting on.
Wilson
_______________________________________________
The machine’s booster rockets activated, and it straightened itself in mid-air. It flew straight towards the ground and directly at Metal Girl. The sound of his punch to her face, the sound of metal on metal, was like a church bell ringing, and it echoed across the estate as she flew fifty feet backwards.
Metal Girl landed hard against the ground, then gathered herself as she slowly stood to her feet. “Not bad,” she said as she rubbed her jaw. “I’ll hand it to you, that was probably the hardest I’ve ever been hit.”
The armor landed on the ground. “It won’t be the last time.”
“Now don’t get cocky,” she replied as she walked towards him. “I said it was hard; I didn’t say it actually hurt.”
“This suit still has a few tricks I haven’t tried yet.”
“You better figure them out fast,” she said as she suddenly began to run at him. “Cause you’re going to b
e dead in a few more minutes.”
She threw a right hook at the armor’s helmet, which connected and caused the machine to step backwards. She followed with another punch from her left. The Iron Knight caught her fist and held it as tight as the suit would allow, refusing to allow her to pull it back.
“That’s always been your problem,” the computerized voice said. “You’re strong, but you have no idea how to fight. You’re slow and clumsy, and I can telegraph every move before you make it.”
“Telegraph this, bitch,” she yelled as her right hand landed another punch to the faceplate.
It knocked the machine back a bit, but not enough to make it let go. She threw another punch which it easily caught, squeezing her right fist as hard as it did the left, then ramming the suit’s helmet and face plate hard against the bridge of her metal covered nose, then again, and again. The fourth time, a small amount of blood trickled from her nostril.
“Finally,” it said, “someone made you bleed.” The machine twisted and slung her as hard as it could, sending her crashing through the front of the house, leaving a mass of wood and brick crumbled on top of her. It walked towards the house.
She pushed the remnants of her living room off of her body and stood up. “You are not getting to him.”
“Would you die to save that bastard?” The Iron Knight asked as it walked.
She moved to meet it before it could enter the hole it had made in the house. “I would die; I would kill; I would do anything for him. I love him more than my life, your life, life itself.”
“It seems you are even dumber than I ever gave you credit for.”
She laughed as the sun reflected from her metallic face. “I’m dumb? You came here in the armor of I man I cared about, a man you killed, thinking I would roll over and let you also kill the man I love, and you have the audacity to call me dumb.” She ran the difference between them and punched it in the chest, sending the machine backwards.
It crashed hard against a tree. The Iron Knight armor struggled to move into an upright position. “So I see you’ve got a total of two moves: punch me in the head or run and punch me in the chest. ”
“And what have you got?” she asked, still picking rubble from her shoulders. “You can’t shoot me; you can barely punch me. You’re already dead, and you don‘t even know it.”
“Oh, I know it,” the computerized voice replied. “And now that we know you can bleed, maybe I’ll come over there and cram an incendiary grenade down your throat, and we’ll see if your insides are made of metal too.”
“If you think you can, little man, why don’t you give it a try?” She ran directly at the machine.
The Iron Knight selected the suit’s repulsor ray and held out the armor’s right palm in her direction, firing a wide beam of light into her torso. The beam sent her flying backwards, and she crashed through the house again.
“Had enough yet? You could just give up and let me kill the bastard, and we won’t have to go through this whole dance.”
She stood up and climbed from the remains of the house that had once been the kitchen. “Give up? I’m just getting started.”
“Step out of my way, and I’ll allow you to live. It’s the last offer I’ll ever give you.”
“That’s your offer, asshole?” she replied with a smile. “I’m supposed to just walk away and let you kill my Stephen? I’ll send me and you both to Hell before I’ll let you anywhere near him.”
“Then we’ll finish this your way.” The Iron Knight armor began to walk in her direction. Then, without warning, two men teleported onto the estate, appearing less than a hundred feet from where the armor stood. Instinctively, the machine raised its left wrist gun and fired several bullets toward their heads.
_______________________________________________
In the blink of an eye, The Detective went from the rooftop of a garage to a scenic yard in front of a mansion, which seemed to be located somewhere in the middle of the woods. He turned towards the teleporter in time to see a bullet pass through the man’s forehead and out of the back of his skull, spraying the brains all over the freshly mowed grass. Before the teleporter’s dead body could hit the ground, The Detective dove to his right and landed on all fours, avoiding several more bullets. He looked up in time to see the Iron Knight suit fire several more rounds at him, rounds he dove again to avoid.
“Detective” the computerized voice beckoned him, as the monstrous suit turned in his direction. “I warned you before what would happen if you concerned yourself in my affairs.”
The Detective rose to his feet. “Oh, this is awkward. You think I’m here to stop you from killing this lot.” He placed his gun back inside his coat. “Yeah, I’m past all of that. Seriously, kill them all; I really don’t care. I‘m just here for The Ice Queen.”
“Forgive me,” the machine replied as it aimed both of its wrist guns at him and began to fire, “if I don’t believe you.”
Oh well, The Detective thought to himself as he dove past the newest wave of bullets being fired in his general vicinity, so much for the honest approach.
The Detective watched as the Iron Knight armor flew hundreds of feet into the air, where it stayed, staring down at him and the red haired woman with metal skin.
“Is he always this homicidal or is this something new?” The Detective asked the woman he assumed was Metal Girl.
She lowered her head away from the sky and looked at him. “Who exactly are you?”
“Me?” The Detective answered. “I’m nobody.”
Before she could say anything in return, the mechanized battle armor flew down from the sky and slammed into Metal Girl, sending her flying across the estate. She landed hard against a patch of trees which stood on the edge of the forest, ripping several of them in half as she tore through. The armor landed, turned back towards The Detective, and fired more bullets which barely missed their intended target.
The Detective wound up on all fours next to the badly damaged house. He scurried to his feet, placing his back against the wall facing away from the armor. He moved his head around the corner and looked at the man trying to kill him. “I wasn’t lying,” he yelled. “I’m just here for Ice. You can do whatever the fuck you want with the rest of them.”
With a slow pace, the machine walked towards him. “She is one of them; she has to die as well.”
“Well, there’s the rub, I guess,” The Detective replied. “You see, I need her alive for a while until I can get some answers.”
“She will not tell you the truth.” The armor continued walking toward the house. “The Seven never tell the truth. They take anything and everything within their reach, killing, destroying, without repercussion, without penalty, and no one has been able to stop them, until now.”
“I understand your pain there, chief,” The Detective answered as he took the gun from his coat and pulled it up next to his chest, completely unsure what good a pistol was going to do against this metal behemoth. At least it made him feel better for a moment. “Once I ask my questions, you’re free to do with her whatever you wish.” The Detective was unsure if the last statement was a lie or not. Maybe he would help Ice fight; maybe he wouldn’t. It seemed to all came down to what she had to say for herself.
The Detective heard the sound of a female voice from behind the machine. He looked around the corner in time to see Metal Girl talking to nothing and nobody. “I’ll do what I can,” she said to no one in particular. Then, before The Iron Knight could react, she ran towards it, lowering her shoulder and ramming into it from behind. It landed a few hundred feet away.
Suddenly, as a disembodied voice spoke inside of his head, The Detective realized who she had been talking to. “Hope has provided you with a distraction. Now hurry into the house; I have need of your assistance.”
“Please go quickly,” Metal Girl said, turning towards The Detective with a look of desperation covering her metallic face. “Steven needs you.”
“Where is he?�
�� The Detective asked, not really wanting to help but filled with a mixture of curiosity and a desire to get himself out of the middle of this two person fight.
“Upstairs,” she answered.
He turned to his right and made a hard dash for the door located at the other end of the wall.
_______________________________________________
Journal Entry
[Found on page 37]
Note: The following is a transcription of a video found on Barren’s computer, recorded from his penthouse. It was taped on the day Steven Quincy was shot through the spine by an assassin’s bullet during The Seven’s victory rally outside of the new capital building, just days after the end of the war.
(The recording begins with an empty apartment, but within a few seconds, Barren appears in the room, dragging Metal Girl into the room by her upper arm.)
Barren: Get your ass in here, young lady.
Metal Girl: (ripping her arm away from Barren) Let me go, and stop talking to me like I’m a damn kid.
Barren: You’re fucking eighteen years old. You are a damn kid. Now sit the hell down until I can figure out what to do with you.
Metal Girl: (yelling) Fuck you! I need to be at the hospital with Steven.
Barren: What you need to do is sit your ass on the couch until you calm the fuck down. You cannot, I repeat, cannot act like that in public anymore. We are in a precarious position here, trying to balance whatever peace we’ve achieved, and you cannot be at the hospital, threatening to kill the doctors if they don’t fix your boyfriend.
Metal Girl: (sitting on the leather couch, holding her face in her hands, tears pouring down her face) I need to be there. I need to be there for him. He would do the same for me.
Barren: (walking to the bar in the corner and making himself a drink) He’d probably leave you for dead then trade your ass in for some other prepubescent piece of tail.
Metal Girl: (yelling again) Fuck you, Anthony! You have no idea what you're fucking talking about.
