Full Metal Superhero (Book 6): Explosive Arsenal

by Haskell, Jeffery H.

  Beyond them, the crowd is beginning to circle, murmurs ripple through the area and an ugly feeling takes over as random people from within the crowd start echoing Kate’s sentiments.

  “You’re gonna get more than a shove,” a young woman says.

  “Maybe you should meet a Th’un and see how they treat you?” An elderly man asks with a snarl on his face.

  “Did you lose an arm fighting them?” A little kid yells at the top of her lungs.

  Behind all of them, I see a man with a five-o’clock shadow dressed in a worn gray trench coat and sneakers looking on. He has a notebook out and writes furiously in it as things happen.

  “Kate,” I say again, louder. When she doesn’t respond, I focus hard on my panic, letting it run wild until I’m hyperventilating. It’s easy to do considering the situation is scaring the crap out of me.

  Kate’s pheromones are whipping the crowd into a frenzy; she’s gonna start a riot if I don’t get her out of here. I don’t want to open a quantum gate and armor up or use the light version of my armor installed in my wheelchair; that would just escalate the situation.

  The panic does the trick. Kate’s head whips around, sending her black hair flying, and she sees me. I silently plead with her to take me out of here. She nods, moves to my side and places a hand on my shoulder.

  “Fleet, get to the Spire,” she orders. He nods and vanishes in a blur of speed. A trail of dust and flapping clothes are all that’s left to tell which way he went. We’re only a few miles from home, and he’s there in seconds. We vanish a moment later—

  White light flashes by as we move nearly instantly through quantum space, followed by a wave of nausea that disappears almost as fast as it came.

  —Then we’re outside the Spire, next to Fleet, who’s holding the door open for us. I smile at Tony as Kate pushes me through. We’re across the lobby, past all my employee’s who are noticeably concerned about the scowl on Kate’s face and the remains of the red paint.

  She doesn’t speak as she pushes me through the lobby to my private elevator. With each step, I feel her aggravation and anger fading. Finally, we’re in the elevator, and as the doors shut, she turns to me.

  “Are you okay?” We ask at the same time.

  “Jinx,” I say with a smile.

  “Amelia, how can you be smiling, those people were horrible,” she says, her fingers curl into a fist as she talks.

  “Kate, it’s okay. Opinions are like IQs. Everyone has them, some are better than others,” I tell her with a smile.

  “That’s not how I heard it...”

  “Well, I’m trying to be a role model. I’m an adult now, can’t have people hearing me swear.”

  She grasps the chair as the door slides open to my apartment and she pushes me in. “Where to oh wise one?” she asks.

  “Shower, definitely shower.”

  As she pushes me toward my bedroom, I ask her the thing that’s been bothering me. “Why wasn’t I asked to be on the stage? They told me it was because I wasn’t in Seattle, but you were up there.”

  She lets me take the wheel as I go into my custom bathroom with adjustable height counters. I can’t see her from in here, but I can hear her just fine. “Epic, shower please, hot.” The shower springs to life as my companion responds.

  The shower is nothing more than an empty stall in one corner of the bathroom. All the sharp edges and corners are covered with durable padding. Most accidents happen in the shower after all. My chair pulls its transforming trick, lowering to the point where I can easily slide off of onto the floor.

  Kate hasn’t responded yet, so I shout out to her. “You still there?”

  “Yes,” she says leaning against the door. “I was just trying to figure out why they would tell you that...” She has her phone out, sadly not the super advanced one she used to have. All that tech went up in smoke with Category-7.

  “Amelia, have you been watching the news? Not the local stuff but the national media?”

  “Ugh. I think my clothes are a total party wipe,” I say.

  The shirt is sticky with drying paint, and I manage to get that off easy enough. Lucky for me, I don’t wear jeans. Wet jeans are the worst to remove, and a hundred times more so when wrapped around paralyzed legs.

  Once I toss my clothes in the corner for housekeeping to take care of, I ‘hand-walk’ into the shower. The hot water feels heavenly.

  “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”

  “Have you watched the national media?” she asks.

  I shake my head, letting the water do its magic. It’s weird seeing all the red swirl down the drain. Last time I saw that much I had broken a few ribs and was coughing up blood. The funny thing is, I can’t seem to remember when that was?

  “Epic?” Kate asks.

  Yes.

  “Have you been monitoring the news?”

  While I can monitor and review many streams of information, I am not omnipotent. I have algorithm's that tell me when things are important and... oh.

  “Oh? Oh isn’t what I like to hear from my AI,” I say.

  I apologize, Amelia. I have been busy with the new suit designs and updating our security here at the Spire, and our ongoing search for Major Force. I have several updates pending that I have not reviewed. Doing so has revealed what Kate speaks of.

  “And?” My annoyance is climbing to new levels. What are they dancing around?

  “I’ll tell her, Epic,” Kate says with a sigh. I can hear her just fine, but with all the steam I can’t see her.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Somehow, and I can’t be sure how or pinpoint when, but...” Her voice trails off like she’s trying to figure out how to tell me something I don’t want to hear. Like my dog died or something, but I don’t have a dog.

  “Spit it out, Kate.”

  She sighs again. “Amelia, the press has villainized you over Argentina, the Th’un, even the attempted coup in DC. They aren’t calling for your arrest, yet, but I don’t think it will be much longer.”

  Despite the hot water, my blood runs cold. So that is what the protesters were on about? They can’t be serious, can they? I mean I record everything I do, sometimes in three-dimensions. Epic uploads the vast majority of it to the DMHA or now the FBI, I guess. How could they think I’ve done anything wrong?

  Kate, as always, is in tune with my thoughts. “It’s not that you did anything wrong, Amelia. We all know if it weren’t for you we would be welcoming our Th’un masters right now. No, it’s that they need someone to point at and blame. They need you to be bad so they can feel better about themselves.”

  I shut the water off, taking the towel she hands me and wrapping it around myself several times.

  “But... I didn’t do anything wrong?”

  She shakes her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. “I don’t think the truth has anything to do with it.”

  I try—I really try—to ignore what the press thinks about me. With Luke vanishing last week, the mess at the award ceremony and everything else going on, I just don’t need this. I really don’t. Even here in my lab, my normal safe space surrounded by my computers, armor, and Coke machine, I still can’t shake my anger and frustration.

  “Epic,” I say between clenched teeth. “How could they possibly think we could ever sign a peace treaty with the Th’un? Lux risked everything to bring her warning to us in the hope we could help each other. Now they’re saying we provoked the Th’un?”

  Revisionist history. You know people will twist what has happened for their own gain. Hitler did not start World War Two; the Germans were the only ones responsible for World War One, the Civil War was not about slavery, it goes on and on.

  No one at any time during the Th’un invasion suggested a peace treaty or non-aggression pact was possible. Armchair generals after the fact are now saying it could have been possible. If it could have been possible, then the war with them was unjust and—

  “If the war with them was unjust, then they
can try to hang me as a war criminal.”

  They do not actually hang people anymore.

  “Know-it-all,” I say with a smirk.

  Takes-one-to-know-one.

  I wheel around the central computer station that looks like it belongs in a cheesy sci-fi with its octagon shape and multiple monitors. It’s just easy to move around is all. Currently, I have my MK VII combat Suit splayed out on the bench. It’s engineered with a unique double thick version of my titanium alloy, extra kinetic manipulators, and enough power to put me in orbit. It’s not as fast as my other suits, which is the trade-off. It’s my anti-Armory build I’m working on. Something to really mess with them when they come back at me. Next time I won’t be the one taking the beating.

  Are you sure it is wise to have a mass driver rifle on this version? I know you like the idea of the weapon, but once it is detached from the armor... if people were to figure out how to reverse engineer it the consequences could be dire.

  I nod at his comments. I know, but I’ve built in every safety system I can think of. The weapon will only fire if it’s physically connected to my suit and I’m in the suit. Epic has to unlock the firmware. It has not one, but three tracking systems in it. An RFID chip for GPS, a passive radio beacon that I can ping, and a capsule of tritium that will decay over a long period. Like, twelve years. I can trace that from just about anywhere. My worst-case scenario if none of those work is a dead man’s switch; if anyone tries to fire it when Epic or I am not around… boom. I could just make it not fire, but there isn’t a scenario I can think of where someone else would fire it without Epic or me being there to give them the okay. The weapon uses only ten megajoules, but it’s enough to punch a hole in a tank. I smile, thinking of the look on their faces the next time the Armory messes with me.

  “Okay, enough of this. Kill the news; I can’t control other people’s fears, only my own. Listening to some politically motivated talking heads who have never done an honest day’s work in their life pontificate about mine, isn’t going to help me.”

  With pleasure. Would you like an update about Luke?

  Excitement buzzes through me, and my hairs stand on end. “You have something?” I sit up straighter in my chair, all my worries about the news vanish at the thought of having Luke home.

  I have a 47% match in Branson, Missouri of all places. I do not have a theory as to why he would be there right now.

  “Forty-seven percent ain’t much buddy. What makes you think it’s him?”

  Gait analysis, height and build, mannerisms. I have several hundred hours of direct observation of Luke to compare against.

  “Then why such a low percentage?”

  I will show you.

  The big monitor that stretches across the far wall lights up. Traffic cam footage splits into six different squares, three top, three bottom. Epic highlights a figure moving from the bottom to the top, representing three different blocks as he goes from left to right. I can’t tell who it is; the angle is terrible. Whoever they are, they have a rain hat on and a large coat. It could be Luke. The figure is certainly built like him and even walks like a Marine.

  “I see what you mean. How long ago was this?”

  Ten minutes.

  “I guess we’re going to Branson, Missouri. Message Kate, let her know what we’re doing.” As I speak I roll over to the special chair I have installed in the wall. Grab bars allow me to easily transfer using my upper body. It takes a second, but I get myself seated comfortably. The chair rocks backward like a recliner and waits for me to start.

  “Epic, initiate!”

  Ten minutes later I’m breaking Mach 4 and leaving a long boom behind me as I hit twenty-thousand feet in the all-purpose MK VI. Flying has always been, and will always be, my favorite part of all of this. Even if I had to give up the hero gig, retire my armor or whatever, I’d still do this. Well, unless I was pregnant, but then Luke and I would have to have had sex for me to be pregnant and while I am not as religious as my mother, I’m certainly saving myself for when we’re married.

  I’m not sure where that thought even came from? I’ve never really thought about having children before. I can; it’s not like I’m infertile or anything... but kids? I’m twenty-one, biologically, twenty-two if I count my time as an Amelia-cicle. Which is kind of a stupid thing to think considering my mom was eighteen when I was born.

  Kids huh...? Well, when I find Luke, we can have a long conversation about our future. That thought brings a smile to my face.

  It doesn’t take too much longer for us to hit the Ozark mountains and start the process of slowing down and dropping out of the sky. Nothing like going four times the speed of sound to wake the neighbors. Epic checks Air Traffic Control and gives us the green light. I can’t say I miss the days where I was restricted to just Arizona. Being part of a national team certainly has its advantages.

  Flight path is clear. We will be coming in over Table Rock Lake.

  I double check my load-out. I have three all-purpose suits. The one I’m wearing which is installed permanently in the Spire. The lightweight one in my chair, and the third is in Emjet 01. I couldn’t put one in all three aircraft, so I settled on one Emjet that was just mine, and the other two for the rest of the team and the Spire employees as needed.

  My all-purpose suits are a lot like my MK 3.5 suits. A particle beam on one arm, Kinetic Lance, IP Cannon, AG Pod launcher, enhanced strength and shields of course. Upgraded with the new spray-on synthsuit and Animetal core like all my suits, and of course, it includes all the software upgrades and sensor suits.

  Branson is a small town of twelve thousand people east of Table Rock Lake. The lake itself looks more like valleys filled with water than an unbroken lake as we have in Arizona. The topography is vastly different than what I’m used to; lots of trees, hills, and valleys.

  Once Epic signals the all clear, we slow down to a few hundred miles an hour and come in over Branson from the southwest. The armor locks up, keeping me from exhaustion as the suit fights the wind currents to circle the city.

  “Okay, Epic. Go full active on all sensors. Tap into the local cameras, do whatever you have to do but let’s find Luke. I don’t want to leave Branson without him.”

  Affirmative.

  Screens open up on my field of view, adding my MK I eyeballs to Epic’s impressive list of scanning arrays.

  There are so many things about this situation that bother me. First and foremost, what could the gem want with Luke? I mean, I love the big lug, but he isn’t exactly a genius or a mastermind. He’s smart enough, but in a very narrow field of expertise.

  I double check the readiness of my ZPFM powered ECM. If it’s powerful enough to stop Ericsson and Heart, then it should free Luke from the gem’s hold. I hope.

  Twenty-seven percent match. Adjusting course.

  The suit rolls over, heading due west before diving down to two hundred feet. From this altitude I can make out the people beneath me. With the flick of my eyes, the HUD zooms in on different faces.

  Forty-one percent match.

  We drop down a little more. “Unlock the armor,” I order Epic. My limbs jerk free, letting me control the suit again. I stretch for a second, suppressing a yawn as I do. The street we’re flying over is full of people, mostly tourists it looks like, shopping in the local stores as people head for different theatrical venues that make up the towns largest source of interest.

  Why is he here, though? There isn’t anything he could want in this place, right?

  Eighty-four percent match… no ninety-three. Amelia, I have located Luke—follow the yellow brick road.

  All the screens vanish, replaced by one showing the rain hat-wearing figure in the too-big coat. He turns around for a second and my eyes go wide as I suck in a breath.

  “Luke...,” I whisper. He’s ragged. Large dark circles are visible under his bloodshot eyes. He looks like he hasn’t shaved since he left. “Epic... battle stations.” The HUD flips over from green to red. The
ZPFM switched to max power mode, energizing all the systems at once.

  I want to surprise him and not give him time to react.

  “Charge the ECM, full power. Activate the directional beam as soon as we land.”

  Will do.

  I punch the engines, hitting two hundred before throwing it all in reverse and slamming down on the asphalt right in front of the man I love. Concrete cracks under me from the force of my impact.

  “Hit it!” The HUD dims for a second as electromagnetic noise explodes out of my suit, disrupting every phone, camera, and anything else with an ECM signature larger than a pacemaker for a hundred feet. “Retract faceplate.” The mirrored faceplate retracts so Luke can see my face. His eyes go wide as I smile at him. “Hey stranger, wanna ride?”

  He opens his mouth then clamps it shut. His fists ball up, and his eyes fill with water.

  “Amelia,” he spits out finally. “You have to leave. Please, leave,” he pleads.

  “Luke, you’re free. I’m disrupting whatever hold the gem has on you. It uses alpha waves to control people and just like everyone else we’ve faced with telepathic powers; I can jam them!”

  I thought he’d be happy. The music would swell, we would hug and kiss, and then he’d come home.

  “No, Amelia, you don’t understand. It’s not controlling me. It doesn’t have to. Not anymore.”

  A crowd of people forms near us, cameras and cell phones flashing pictures. They can’t connect to the Internet or cell towers through my interference. Which is good—it will give Epic time to access their devices and delete anything that would compromise us.

  “Luke, what are you talking about?” I step toward him, closing the distance to put an armored hand on his shoulder. He bats it away as if I were trying to hurt him.

  “Back off, Amelia. I have to do this. If not...” he looks at me, his eyes pleading again. My heart hurts seeing his beautiful crystal blue eyes filled with such pain.

  “Luke, whatever the gem is forcing you to do, you don’t have to. We can handle it together.” Times like this I miss Epic being in my head. I know he’s scanning everything and trying to help in any way he can.