by LE Barbant
“Eight months ago, a strange woman contacted me regarding a job. She offered all kinds of money but, as you can imagine, I was hesitant.”
“Actually, I can’t imagine. What was the job?” Chem asked.
“Oh, I thought you knew. Didn’t you come to disrupt the project?”
“Only inasmuch as the project decided it would be prudent to take my gilled friend here.”
Sylvia laughed. “I thought you had come to rescue us. Good thing we were at least an afterthought.”
Chem grinned. “Sorry, honey.”
The woman tucked strands of long black hair behind her ears. Her smile was warm, like an old friend’s. Rita thought she looked too young to have a sixteen-year-old daughter.
“Before being taken captive, I worked for Bio-Org, a nonprofit working to create various technologies for people with physical handicaps. As you can imagine, I had skin in the game.” She nodded toward her daughter.
“And you were good, huh?” Rita gurgled.
“You might say I was the best. When I refused to work for them, they just took me. Literally. A large bald man asked me to go with him. When I said no, he threw me over his shoulder.”
“Lots of those large bald men walking around Pittsburgh,” Chem said.
Sylvia gave the chemist a strange look, then took in the river. Rita assumed she was reveling in her newfound freedom. “And, when I refused to help, they took my baby. I had no choice.”
“No choice in what?” Rita asked.
“I made those suits. I didn’t know what they were using them for, but I assumed the worst. I hated the thought of my work being used for evil purposes.”
Chem looked down at his shoes. For the first time since she met the man, he was speechless.
Rita filled in. “They were terrorizing the city. They hurt some folks. They hurt a…friend of ours. But we don’t know why.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure we figured that out as well.” Chem added; his weird silence didn’t last long. “After you were taken, our friend Willa showed up, along with a speechwriter for Mayor Dobbs. Apparently the man was squeezing information from Dobbs’ other political aids. He told us that Dobbs had been investing city funds into weird tech outfits and that he’d been gathering strangely personal data about Pittsburghers. We put two and two together and figured that he was somehow connected with that drone and these tech suit douche bags. So, we made it as obvious as we could that Willa and Elijah were going to confront Dobbs, hoping that he’d pull in his armored bodyguards for protection, leaving me free to come rescue you.”
Rita sat on her heels, letting the cool water rise to her neck as she tried to understand the convoluted plan. It made sense that Dobbs was connected; after all, the fake monster attacks only helped him in the polls. But there was still something nagging Rita.
“But how did you know where to find me?”
“Elementary, my dear Watson,” Chem smiled, clearly enjoying his role as expositor. “Willa tracked Dobbs to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, and that happened to be only blocks from where Robert Vinton was murdered.”
Sylvia placed a hand on Chem’s shoulder, a concerned look on her face. “You said your friends were trying to draw those thugs in my suits out. They won’t stand a chance.”
Chem shrugged. “Elijah and Willa make a pretty effective team. It’s a fine line between monsters and heroes. Together, they’re stronger than Dobbs realizes. Plus…” A cocky grin crossed his face. “We have a secret weapon.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Dobbs’ technological entourage moved into place between him and the heroes. The two smaller suits came equipped with nasty-looking automatic rifles.
Willa and Elijah took a step back toward the door.
“Not exactly what we had in mind,” Elijah whispered.
Even in the full light of the office, Willa could understand why people thought the big fighter was Elijah in monster form. Over seven feet tall, the entire body of the suit was covered in plate armor. And according to Elijah, the thing was even stronger than he was.
They were outnumbered, and Willa realized she’d have to take care of the other two. They were human size, and although their faces were shielded by armored masks, their bodies were partially exposed. They would be faster, but less impervious to assaults.
“Look, this is between us and the Mayor. Why don’t you just power down or whatever, and we won’t have to hurt you?” Elijah’s tough guy routine needed some work. They aimed their rifles at him and began to advance.
“OK, I’ll take that as a no.” He turned to Willa. “Ready?”
Willa focused on the words, praying her magic would respond in the way they had planned. If she failed, their night could get a whole lot worse.
“Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?”
Elijah groaned. She could feel heat emanating from his body. He doubled over with pain.
“Don’t stop,” he yelled through gritted teeth. She hadn’t planned on it.
“In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand,
dare seize the fire?”
The sound of ripping cloth accompanied Elijah’s screams. His voice deepened into a roar as he grew a foot in height, molten steel dripping from his body. He took a step forward, and Willa felt the floor shake under her.
“Looks like you’re ready,” Willa said.
Before their adversaries could move, Elijah kicked the coffee table. The element of surprise worked perfectly; one of the exoskeletons took the solid wood table in the chest. He crashed into the corner, evening things up for the heroes, if only for a moment.
Elijah ran full-force at the larger of the remaining two. Willa heard a cacophony of metal on metal as she positioned herself for battle.
She and the soldier circled each other. Her eyes narrowed as she watched for his first move.
Naturally, he went for his gun.
As the mech soldier swung his piece toward Willa, her foot was already on its way. She timed her kick well. Her training had not been in vain.
His shot went wide, riddling the wall behind her with bullet holes. Willa followed through with an elbow in the gaps of the exoskeleton.
The soldier doubled over at the hit.
The words were already on her lips:
“Her words did gather thunder as they ran,
And as the lightning to the thunder
Which follows it, riving the spirit of man.”
The power of the poem blasted the soldier across the room. Willa smiled, pleased with her development. But her self-approval faded as she saw the other smaller soldier pick up the table and hurl it.
There was no time for defense. Will dove out of the way, barely avoiding the wooden discus. She scrambled to her feet, drawing forth another spell to use against the fighter.
An explosion sounded behind her. Elijah and the giant metal soldier disappeared through a newly made hole in the Mayor’s office wall.
Willa turned in time to see that both of her grunts were now on their feet, moving toward her.
Oh, crap.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Sheetrock and wood burned as Elijah crashed through the wall and out of the Mayor’s office.
Shit, this guy’s good.
Elijah stood and landed a shovel hook into the soldier’s side. The punch knocked the man back, but not down. He advanced as Elijah readied himself.
Elijah focused on the fire burning inside of him and called on it. As his temperature rose, the pain had transformed into a feeling of power; his heat wasn’t a weakness but a strength.
The metal warrior came in with his own flurry of punches. Two landed, but Elijah’s molten skin absorbed most of the impact. He aimed a wild haymaker at Elijah’s head. The tank was stronger than Elijah,
but not as fast. The historian ducked the punch and with a quick sidestep wrapped his arms around the mech suit, pinning one arm down with an enormous metal bear hug. He squeezed like a python, putting every muscle he had into the attack.
Elijah bellowed, heat pouring off of him.
The soldier’s plate armor turned light pink and then an amber red. A faint hissing emerged from the inside of the suit. His enemy struggled. He elbowed Elijah with his free arm, but Elijah took the blow without letting up. A scream, deep and mechanical, emerged from speakers somewhere on the suit. The yell was something born of pain mixed with rage. Elijah concentrated, knowing this could end the skirmish.
More heat emanated from his body.
Like a runner crossing a marathon finish line, he felt his energy fading with the expending of power.
The scream deepened. The mech suit struggled in his grip. The soldier changed tactics and gripped Elijah’s wrist. Hand like a vise, the suit squeezed. Elijah tried to block out the pain.
In one swift motion, the brute lunged forward, pulling Elijah off his feet. Unbalanced, Elijah’s hold weakened, and the tank slipped free. It turned, slamming both arms into Elijah’s body. He crumpled like a rag doll, landing on his back with the three-ton tank on top of him.
The tables had turned, and Elijah Branton was nearly spent.
The room erupted as the mechanical warrior drove its fists into the side of Elijah’s molten head.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Tim Ford rounded the last set of stairs and pushed open the doors to the Mayor’s office suite. Sounds of Armageddon rang through the hall as the century-old building shook around him. He was entering a battle of monsters that fought like gods. As in his days in the military, fear gripped him. He wondered if he would walk back down those stairs under his own power.
A thick metal chain was wrapped around his arm.
Facing one of these beasts had nearly killed him last time. Even with Chem’s serum coursing through his veins, he wouldn’t enter into a fight like this unarmed.
Nevertheless, he was eager to see what the chemist’s enhancements could do. Even while he feigned weakness in front of the drone, the formula that Chem and Willa had cooked up rapidly changed his body. The pain in his fractured leg subsided, replaced by a strength he had never known. They had warned him that the serum wouldn’t last, but the high was worth whatever consequences he would face. Right now, Tim felt like he could chew through a brick wall.
As he entered the room, he saw the monster—the same one he had met on the streets of the Steel City—straddling what looked like a volcano. The suit was hammering the dark glowing form below it.
Shit.
Ford leapt into action, catching the giant machine on an upswing. Even with his extra strength, he barely moved it. But Elijah took the opportunity and with a powerful upward punch he knocked the tank off him.
Elijah scrambled to his feet, and without looking at Tim, his molten friend yelled, “Help Willa.”
Whether it was his old-time sense of chivalry or his awe at Elijah’s powerful form, he complied, turning toward the sound of battle beyond.
He made the right decision.
The poet had a hand extended at one soldier. Her lips were moving. The man was stuck, frozen like an ant in amber. She dropped the spell and took a defensive pose as the other suit attacked.
She was good, but they were wearing her down. Magic and physical training wouldn’t hold up against two trained fighters outfitted in DARPA’s wet dream. These suits were years ahead of what he had seen used in the military, and the men operating them knew what they were doing.
“Well, shit, Zatanna,” he said, running toward the scene. “Looks like you need a hand.”
Tim intercepted the attack with a crack of his chain. The metal splintered the helmet’s tinted visor.
“What do you two douche bags say we make this a fair fight?”
Willa renewed her efforts against the soldier before he was able to recover from whatever spell she had cast on him.
The other focused his attention on Tim. The crack in his dark visor only added to his menacing appearance. “You’re the shit I kicked around the other day, aren’t you? Looks like I’ll have to break both of your legs this time.”
“Give it your best shot, asshat.”
He grabbed the loose end of the chain in his free hand as the soldier ran toward him, the suit easily doubling the man’s speed. But Tim was ready for the attack and with his chemically enhanced reflexes he dodged to his right. The soldier was thrown off guard by Tim’s inhuman quickness, and Tim caught the man’s arm in the arc of the chain. Pulling with everything he had, he spun the arm behind the soldier’s back and shoved him against the wall.
Tim’s newfound power was intoxicating, but the soldier’s mechanical strength still gave him an upper hand. The suit pushed off the wall with his free arm, pivoted, and landed a violent backwards kick to Tim’s chest. The ex-merc staggered from the blow, taking several steps back.
The exoskeleton attacked again, his fists two rockets. But Tim could handle a fight like this. He countered with a well-aimed jab. His chain-wrapped fist hit home, between the metal and cables of the exoskeleton. He felt a rib give way, but Tim’s attack was unrelenting, volleys of punches targeting the man’s kidneys.
A groan seeped from the helmet.
“That’s right, you’re still just some dude under that cheater suit, aren’t you?”
The soldier crouched in a defensive position, which gave Tim the opening he had been waiting for. He vaulted over the grunt and grabbed onto a thick cable running from the suit’s shoulders to a pack on its back. As he landed, he pulled hard, the momentum adding to his strength. Sparks flew as the cable gave way.
The man took one step forward, then dropped under the weight of the suit. He strained, trying to get up, but the weight of several hundred pounds of dead mechanics dropped the man to the floor.
Ford walked behind the Mayor’s massive desk and flipped it on top of the man.
“Nature wins.” He grinned.
With one suit down, Tim turned to help Willa. But she was gone; the fallen body of a beaten soldier was all that remained.
Tim knelt; pushing two fingers up underneath the helmet, he found a faint pulse.
“Just in case,” Tim said. With gritted teeth he jerked the cable from the soldier’s pack. If the man came to, he would likely be in no shape to fight, but without his armor it wouldn’t matter anyway.
Clanging metal drew his attention to the adjoining room. Tim raced for the foyer.
“Eli,” he yelled.
The metal monster had Elijah pinned against the wall. His friend’s feet dangled inches from the ground.
“Holy shit,” Tim muttered.
The armored man turned, catching a glimpse of Ford. Elijah’s legs started to kick and jerk. Tim wasn’t sure if asphyxiation was a possibility for Elijah in this form, but he didn’t want to find out.
He fashioned his chain as a whip, and snapped a wave of steel at the soldier. The links clanged off the armor.
No response.
This would take something more.
He wrapped both fists and applied the iron knuckles to the back of the soldier. Tim wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard something like a gravelly laugh.
The thing swatted at him like a fly and sent Ford flying into a row of filing cabinets.
Dazed, he crawled to his feet. There has to be a weak spot.
“Hey, Johnny 5, finish him off so I can have your full attention,” Tim yelled.
As the man turned, Tim kept his eye on the crease between the full-face helmet and the breastplate.
Bingo, bitch.
Turning back to Elijah, the soldier squeezed tighter.
Without sparing a moment, Tim sprung. Crossing the room in three steps, Tim jumped onto the back of the giant. He flipped a loop of chain around its neck, and shifted it into the perfect spot.
He pulled with all the str
ength he had and everything Chem had given him.
Dropping Elijah, the tank groped at Tim hanging off its back, its bulky arms struggling to reach. The suit tried a different approach. Turning, it drove itself backward into the wall. It battered Ford—crushing him between the metal armor and early twentieth-century plaster.
“Come on,” Tim yelled, pulling harder on the chain. He knew the chain was biting at human flesh. The two were racing to see which body would submit first.
A second time, and the soldier left a Tim Ford-shaped hole in the wall.
Stars passed in front of his eyes. Whether Chem’s serum was wearing off or the assault on his body was just too much, he couldn’t tell. Tim looked across the room. Elijah lay motionless. He knew that if he didn’t end the fight soon, the tank would.
As the large suit slammed into the wall again, Tim reached out, grabbing for anything he could use.
His hand found a piece of dangling lath.
“Last chance. Stop this now!” Tim pleaded.
For a fourth time the tank rammed its passenger.
Tim was losing his grip on the chain.
He had no other choice.
Forgive me.
Tim closed his eyes and stabbed the makeshift dagger between the armor’s plates. The wood sunk deep into flesh; blood pumped out of the crack. Ford’s aim was true; the jugular was severed. The thing was human after all.
Tim let go and dropped to the floor. Hands on his knees, he tried to catch his breath as the suit stumbled forward.
It hit the floor and reached its enormous hands for the broken wood sticking from its neck. Failing, its arms dropped.
A faint voice crackled from the distorted mechanics. “Tim…”
A sick thought hit Ford harder than any attack from the tank.
Kneeling over the figure, he pulled on the helmet, finally wrenching it loose.
“No. No. No,” he screamed at the face as its blood slowly drained.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“Dobbs,” Willa screamed. “Come out, you coward. Face me.”
