Blackjack Villain (The Blackjack Series)

by Ben Bequer

  Clawed hands erupted from the ground beneath me, ripping into my pants and legs, dragging me under. Not beneath the ground, but beyond to another place, a cold and shadowy world, from which I felt I would never be able to leave.

  “No!” I heard above me, far above, and looking up I saw a masked face, Underworld himself, cursing and raging against others that I couldn’t discern. “I have him!” he yelled, but figures interposed themselves between us.

  Looking down, the dark world made itself clear to me, and when I landed another figure came closer. A lithe, nearly nude woman, covered only by a silken sheet that did a poor job concealing her sensual features. All was visible except her face, which she turned away from me ever so seductively. I was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, and the ground beneath me obeyed my will. In an instant, I was upon her, my hands on her naked shoulders, pressing her close to me. Her smell was intoxicating, her touch overwhelming, so much so that I ignored the bleak landscape, a pale powdery world devoid of any features, of any life.

  “Damn, you,” someone shouted from above, though the voice was only a hint, a whisper in the far shadows. “He’s mine! I have taken him!”

  And as faint as the voice was becoming, that was all far above me, and I cared not, as the woman turned her face to me that crooked smile, her pink-dyed hair and glowing blue eyes regarding me once more.

  It was Influx.

  “I knew you would come for me,” she said, but I released her, shocked at first, then horrified as her features changed. From exquisite to desiccated, from beautiful to dead, her form transfigured and she appeared to me as a corpse lost to the North Atlantic seas. As she would be if I were to find her now; her eyes glazed over, milky white and dead, and her lips peeled back, consumed by millions of tiny invertebrates and thin, pale white crabs that she vomited from her mouth.

  “He’s with me,” a different voice railed from far above, but so loud it echoed through the land.

  Influx’ features were pleading, begging, but her form was coming apart, as if the creatures that poured from her mouth were all that she was made of.

  “Damn you! Damn it!”

  Influx reached out to me, her sad face decompressing like a balloon with its air slowly let out. Her hands touched my chest, but I recoiled, and a moment later she was gone and only a small pool of vomit, blood and dead crustaceans remained. At the same time something pulled me out, away from this place, and in a flash, I was there, lying on my knees before Underworld. We were ringed by the heroes, who were held back by uncertainty, because behind me, Apogee was beating the crap out of Underworld.

  * * *

  By the time I got my bearings and was able to stand, Underworld was unconscious at Apogee’s feet. The rest of the heroes were also confused. Apogee was one of them, one of their most famous, and now she was helping me. Rumors of her ‘condition’ must have circulated, but now they were seeing her betrayal in the flesh, and it shocked and appalled most of them.

  “You ok?” Apogee asked. I could only imagine how I looked right now, but apparently it wasn’t a pretty sight.

  “I’ll live.”

  She stepped over Underworld to stand beside me.

  “When they come, fight back to back,” she began. “We’ll fight our way back to the others.”

  “Which begs the question; where the hell are they?”

  “Get ready,” she said, as the host that circled us grew antsy, and the first of them came at us.

  The first was a caped fellow in USA colors and a bright silver helm. He flew right at me, like FTL had before him, but landed at my feet and swung at me. I stepped aside and readied for a punch when Apogee jumped in and knocked him out with a blind side shot. Behind her was a huge guy, far bigger even than Epic, charging in. I covered her back, rushing forward to intercept and put a shoulder into his chest. I wrapped him up and put all my momentum into him, feeling bones and tendons popping in his chest as I landed atop him. He let out a gasp as his consciousness faded. I picked him up, the idea to toss Epic still in my head, and threw him at a pair of Mexican heroes, dressed as meso-American gods Quetzalcoatl and Huitzilopochtli. They were rushing Apogee, wielding scepters and maces, but I bowled them over with the big guy, and they collapsed in a cloud of feathers and dust.

  “We’ve got trouble,” Apogee said punching and flailing at our enemies when they came closer. She clocked one, knocking him unconscious as, I turned to see a huge Mech moving up to the rear rank of the heroes. It was a gleaming silver metal man, tall enough to cast a long shadow over the whole island, sporting weapons from shoulder, head and arm sponsons, and wielding an enormous flaming sword.

  The head of the huge Mech was an armored cockpit for the two pilots who viewed us through small view screens that formed the eyes of the beast.

  “I got an idea,” I shouted at her, punching back one, then two heroes that had come up to us. “Remember when you threw me out of the arena?”

  It took her a moment to remember.

  “You’re crazy,” Apogee reached over, grabbed my belt, and hurled me up at the Mech’s head. As I floated in the air, the pilots swung the sword and tried to catch me. I twisted my body, barely avoiding the blade, but the shift in the Mech made me almost totally miss its head. Instead, I slammed into a communication antenna jutting from near where the left ear would be. I grabbed in desperation for anything that would keep me from falling, snagging a long cable held down with ties. My feet slipped and I dangled precariously off the side of the Mech’s shoulders but I managed to catch myself, and after a moment, rise to my feet.

  It was then that the gravity of the whole situation hit me. From that great vantage point, I could see the throng of heroes surrounding Apogee below. There were twenty or thirty of them, mostly frontline fighters. Though they were careful with her powers, and none of them were in her league, they only had to only put her down (so they could ‘fix’ her afterwards). The bunch was steadily circling her, encompassing her like wolves before the kill.

  Buzzing in the air like annoying gnats were a dozen or so flying heroes, some rising up to take care of me. Amongst them was Atmosphero, who peppered the air with lightning, trying to drop me without destroying the Mech. With him were Battlestone, Dragonfly, Flamestar and FTL, amongst a few others I couldn’t recognize.

  Down the hill were more heroes, in a sort of hastily formed command bunker. Taking command of the assault were Captain Miraculous, Bad Karma, and Brigade. Around them, most of The Sentinels prepared for another assault, as well as a dozen or more newcomer heroes. Near Epic’s jet were more landing craft, and ringing the island were several hover vehicles, taxiing in to land. Farther out, formations of fighter jets circled Hashima, though what planes and what country they came from, I couldn’t determine.

  Behind us, up a gentle sloping hill, was Retcon’s building, the only structure that fully remained standing on the entire island. It had sloughed off its outer appearance, though, and now looked like an egg-shaped concrete ovoid, a column of bluish-whitish Telluric energy roared from an opening at the top, then rose into the heavens, lighting the world with the protective shield as Retcon had predicted. The energy had a web-like pattern to it, spreading like its milky web across the sky.

  I turned back to the task at hand, as lightning tore at the Mech near me and bullets ricocheted around reminding me of the danger I was in. I climbed up, and as I cleared the edge of the shoulder, I found myself staring down a blaster weapon sponson that was turned inwards at my face. A surge of greenish energy formed at the back of the barrel, and I instinctively grabbed the weapon, braced my feet, and twisted it on its base, grinding the metal with a loud, agonizing squeal. I aimed the weapon and a moment later it coughed a belch of greenish plasma at my new target, the command center.

  The explosion destroyed several computer centers they were setting up, and sent the whole bunch reeling for cover. I couldn’t help but laugh as I saw Brigade come back up for air and curse at me.

  But I had no time
to gloat. Below, Apogee was in trouble.

  I found my footing again and looked for a good hand hold near the neck area of the mech. There was a lip of armor on the head that overlapped the neck, concealing the ball and socket mechanism that allowed the cockpit to turn. I reached down and grasped it, hoping they wouldn’t rock the head sideways and clip my fingers, probably ripping them all off. I gave it all my strength, my hands ripping the metal upwards, and feet digging down into the armored shoulder pads, but the head of the Mech slowly began to rise out of the socket.

  I didn’t realize I was roaring as loud as I was, and a few of the flying heroes, seeing what I was doing tried to stop me with their ranged powers. Atmosphero raked my body with lightning, which only served to enrage me further, and give me more strength. With a loud crunching sound, and a popping of wires and cables, the head ripped out of the rest of the body, finally coming clear free and rolling off the back of the Mech trailing smoke and exploding wires. The rest of the big metal man lost all control and hydraulic power, and rolled forward.

  “Geronimo!” I shouted as the Mech crashed down towards the scattering heroes that surrounded Apogee and at the last second jumped off to smash into the rocky ground.

  The terrain shook horribly, raising a cloud of smoke and ash all around. A hand grabbed my shoulder and helped me up, and half expecting it to be one of the heroes, I reared my opposite arm back for a punch. But it was Apogee, covered in a thin layer of dust, but otherwise unharmed.

  “You ok?”

  I nodded, still a bit woozy from the fall, and from Epic’s beating. Down the hill, through the shadowy dust cloud, we saw the heroes were forming again.

  “That was pretty awesome,” she said, her hands still on my shoulder and arm.

  “Let’s go find the others,” I said, and ran up the hill.

  “Lookout!” she yelled and tackled me, as a bullet tore through the air above me slamming into a column nearby and demolishing it.

  “Thanks,” I said, helping her up this time and running off in a low crouch to avoid further attacks.

  “Probably Sharpshooter,” she answered. “One of Brigade’s boys. Guy has a rifle with bullets that can drop anything.”

  “I thought we snagged those guys but I saw Brigade at their command post,” I complained, but as we rounded a corner, we saw the reason.

  Cool Hand was lying on the floor, blood thick down his chest and stomach, pooled around him. His face was pale, and hands shook as we came up to him. Behind was the shattered form of Mr. Haha 2000, a pile of metal, wires, shredded kimono and pieces of his rabbit head. The servos churned and spun, denoting that he still had partial power, but his form was destroyed and useless. Around Haha were a dozen dead or dying demonic imps.

  I reached down to Cool, lifting his head to face us. He smiled faintly, blood spatter on his lips and mouth as he softly gargled the word, “Zundergrub.”

  * * *

  “See to him,” Mr. Haha sputtered, with a hollow, far away voice, noticing my hesitation. I knelt beside Cool, and felt for a pulse, but couldn’t find it. His face was pallid, spattered with his own blood, his hands shaking as they found the collar of my ripped shirt.

  “It was...Zee, man,” he spat.

  “Easy,” I tried soothing him. “We’re going to get you some help.”

  But with what strength remained in him, he gripped my shirt tightly and pulled closer.

  “He’s,” he started, but the rising motion drained him. His eyes rolled back slightly and he almost lost consciousness. I cradled him, blood from two nasty chest wounds pooling onto my chest.

  “Zee’s got...that knife,” Cool managed as his strength faded with every lost drop of blood. I instantly knew what he was talking about. Zundergrub had Shivver’s dagger, the weapon that had killed Influx and almost finished me as well. With that dagger, I was vulnerable. It was the one thing that could pierce my skin easily.

  He had played us all, and now, when things were at their direst, Zundergrub was unleashing his terrible plan. I looked up the hill towards the massive door to Retcon’s lab, but Zundergrub wasn’t visible. Indeed, he was master of shadows, with strange powers over them, and now he had a weapon formidable enough to defeat me.

  “B-,” Cool groaned but then his face twitched, almost into a smile, and he was gone. He died in my arms.

  Time seemed to stop for me, as I lay my friend down. I felt a stream of tears flowing down the side of my face, torn into a mask of anguish. After all we had been through; I never thought it would end on the side of a dusty hill, covered in my friend’s blood. Cool’s face was peaceful, as if he was taking a nap.

  “Zundergrub attacked us when you charged in,” Haha said, though his voice wasn’t localized anywhere near the remnants of his head. Servos complained and whirred as the animated metal pile tried to gain some mobility, but his only partially functional extremity was one of his arms. The rest of his body was shattered and crushed.

  “He stabbed Cool, while his pets attacked me from behind. We were helpless.”

  “Where is he?” I said in a voice so menacing that I almost scared myself. I felt a welling of anger and a twitch in my lips. My face turned into a scowl and my fists clenched so tightly it felt as if the bones of my hand would snap.

  Mr. Haha pointed up the hill, and I started that way, but he extended his arm telescopically, with far more agility and speed than I would have expected and clasped my left wrist around the remnants of my old watch. His tendrils circled my arm and tore into my skin. I fought it, and Apogee stepped forward, thinking me under attack, but it was over in a second. Mr. Haha’s limbs collapsed in a dusty pile, and the robot was still.

  Remaining on my wrist was a thin band of fibrous metal with a small block of twisted steel settled where the watch head would normally be. There was no movement, nor any sign of a power source, until it suddenly spoke.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I catch a ride,” my wrist band called out with Mr. Haha’s voice. “Temporarily, of course.”

  “What the hell?” Apogee cried out, holding my forearm and taking a closer look.

  “Let’s not stand around and dilly dally,” Haha continued. “We have to stop Zundergrub.”

  I looked down at my friend’s corpse, shook my head softly, and headed up the hill.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Dale” Apogee said, running next to me.

  “I’m going to kill him,” I howled back, the tears now gone, replaced with a burgeoning rage that would only be fulfilled with Zundergrub shrieking for mercy.

  Apogee kept looking back, keeping an eye out for approaching heroes.

  “It’s not him I’m worried about,” she said.

  I followed her gaze and saw a few heroes staying close, looking for an opportunity.

  “They better not fuck with me now, so help me.”

  “Dale,” she protested but her attention was suddenly drawn ahead and she came to a stop.

  We came up a set of stairs, a few yards from the huge open gate, and a figure dropped from the sky between us and the entrance.

  It was Nostromo.

  “Are you ok?” he asked, seeing me, battered and bruised as I was.

  “Zundergrub is going to betray Retcon,” Apogee said speaking for me at a moment where logic and reason failed me. I didn’t want to talk, or to explain a damned thing, I wanted to find Zundergrub and crush his skull in my hands.

  Nostromo was confused, “I saw him run inside.”

  “We have to stop him,” she continued.

  He shook his head, and only then Apogee and I realized that he was injured himself, sprayed with his own blood from a gaping wound on his chest.

  “I’ve closed my gate, and Apostle’s,” he said wistfully.

  “Where is he? Zundergrub is far more powerful than we had imagined. We’ll need to warn Apostle and the others,” Madelyne started but paused herself when she saw Nostromo’s pained facial expression.

  “We’re all that’s left,” he said chok
ing on the last words. It was apparent that I wasn’t the only one who had lost a friend today.

  Above us, the blue/white telluric energy billowed from the opening above the Retcon structure. It spread outward, per Dr. Retcon’s plan, and spilled across the horizon, like a warm blanket covering the Earth. Within minutes, it would cover the visible sky, within hours, the whole planet.

  Then Nostromo’s expression changed. He looked up, seeing something we couldn’t; farther than we could, with his enhanced perception, and near god-like vision.

  “She’s here,” he announced.

  “What?”

  He looked at me, forcing a smile. “Keep an eye on Alec, will you? He’s the last friend I have left.”

  “Wait,” Apogee protested. “Who’s here? The alien is here?”

  He looked back up, “We had expected it. We figured she would try to stop us.”

  “Will the shield stop her?” I asked.

  “Not yet. It’s not finished.”

  He was silent and again gazed right at me.

  “It’s been nice to know you,” Nostromo said, and before I could reach out to grab him, to stop him from the madness I saw in his heart, he shot up in the air, leaving a purple trail of energy, arcing across the sky so fast that none of the flying heroes, or defensive craft could even respond. He was a beautiful streak of energy, headed for an encounter with a force he couldn’t defeat, a power that dwarfed his own.

  A man with more courage, I have yet to meet.

  “Come on,” Apogee shouted, and grabbed my arm to wake me from my momentary reverie. Apogee half dragged me the last few yards to the gate, when I saw a flash of red from a distant rooftop, Sharpshooter, taking aim at me again with his deadly rifle.

  “Careful!” I said, turning and rushing towards the door, but inside was Dr. Zundergrub, a grim expression on his face, his eyes two twisted pools of black tendrils as he unleashed his power. But he wasn’t directing it at us, so much as through us, and shooting a glance back, I saw a shroud of Zundergrub’s black, inky power swirling around Sharpshooter’s head, as the doctor exerting his will on the sniper.