by Drew Hayes
Clearly, it was time for a change in strategy. Hephaestus began to chase Apollo once more, but as she did, she also poured as much power as she dared into the speaker on the front of her helmet. There was no way Ivan wouldn’t hear her, but that was all the better. The more he had to listen to, the more she might be able to reach him.
“Hey! Apollo! Slow it down!”
Ahead of her, his curly head bobbed in surprise, and he flipped over to face her for the first time. This distraction nearly cost him his head, as Ivan materialized in front of Apollo, taking a mighty swing for his cranium. A last-second dodge kept the cape in one piece, and he whipped around to swing past Hephaestus.
“Get out of here! Fornax is on a rampage. No one is safe.” This point was rather well-illustrated as Ivan slammed into a nearby building as he tried to tackle Apollo from the air.
Hephaestus caught a good glimpse of her teacher for the first time as he spun around to take new aim. Her hope of reaching him dimmed. That wasn’t Ivan. Even in his Fornax days, he’d never looked like that. His bloodlust was so thick it was nearly a fog. The red runes in his eyes gleamed with madness. He might be too far gone even for her to reach. Should she have brought Rick along with her? Surely the sight of his son might have dulled the rage enough for Ivan to retake control. But as she watched him vanish, Hephaestus felt unsure. Ivan might not even recognize his kids in this state, which made it all the more unlikely that he’d remember her.
“I said run!” Apollo yelled at her from nearby, hovering and making a “shoo” motion with his hands. This time, he didn’t get away with pausing. Suddenly, Ivan was behind him, slamming Apollo out of the sky with a vicious punch to the back. A streak of light marked his fall, which culminated in a shower of earth as he slammed into a mercifully evacuated local park.
For just a moment, Ivan hung there, watching Apollo fall, and then he looked up, meeting Hephaestus’s eyes through her helmet. She could actually feel his thirst for murder rippling through her soul. Her courage nearly broke.
Then he was gone, down on the ground, standing on top of Apollo. Whatever he had planned, it was going to be brutal, and probably not take too long. Even if Ivan wanted to make it last, he was too drunk on fury. Apollo had seconds to live—at most a full minute. While Hephaestus wouldn’t be too broken up about his death, the moment he croaked, Ivan would be on the move again.
Now or never, this was the best shot she was going to get. She needed to strike... but fear made her heart waver. What would going down there really accomplish? He was so far gone, she doubted he could ever hear her, let alone understand what she was saying. Most likely, all she’d really accomplish was dying a few seconds before Apollo and everyone else that Ivan vented his perceived loss on. With the memory of Ivan’s burning eyes fresh in her mind, Hephaestus fed her thrusters, took aim, and flew as fast as she could.
Directly away from Ivan and Apollo.
Chapter 86
The speedometer in the corner of her helmet’s display read around two hundred and fifty miles per hour when she began the wide turn back to her target. Not exactly impressive by meta-human standards, but it was about as good as her current suit could handle. Maybe later, if such a time existed for her, she’d look into ways to put more oomph in her rockets. Right now, this was the best she had. It would just have to be enough: for her and for Ivan.
Hephaestus tore through the air, adding a few more miles per hour now that she was on a direct course. She was rapidly approaching the park where she could now see Ivan looming over Apollo, who looked a lot bloodier than he had less than a minute before. She poured on the speed, locking on to her target and refusing to falter. If she paused now, even for a moment, her courage might never rekindle enough to go through with this idiotic plan. It occurred to her that this might be a good time to say a prayer, but since the man she was racing toward proclaimed to have eaten a god, Hephaestus wasn’t quite sure how much good that would do or who would be listening. Instead, she stretched out her left arm, said a silent apology to the suit she’d worked so hard to build, and phased completely into fire-form.
Like the left hand of a vengeful god, Hephaestus rocketed down from the sky and smashed directly into Ivan’s face, fist-first. Her gauntlet and most of the left arm shattered on impact, sending her reeling through the air for a brief instant before she went crashing across the park’s well-cared-for grounds. Sparks flew and countless warning screens flashed in her helmet; the meta-suit had just taken far more damage than she’d built it to withstand. Hephaestus didn’t wait for it to finish bounding across the grounds; already turned to living fire, she slipped free after the second bounce, reforming to a human-shape as she took in Ivan and Apollo.
The cape looked far worse than she’d seen from above. His legs and right arm were broken, and she could see ribs sticking out from his torso’s tanned skin. It had been less than a minute and Ivan had done so much damage—too much longer and she’d be looking at a corpse.
Broken as Apollo was, however, he was not her central focus. Ivan stood over the fallen hero, but Tori realized with a combination of joy and terror that she’d succeeded in turning Ivan’s head. It was probably more out of annoyance than pain, but she’d done it: she’d gotten his attention. Now she just had to make good use of it.
“Ivan, it’s me.” Her eyes scanned the streets and sky, but no cameras were in sight. Not really a surprise. Ivan and Apollo had been hard enough to follow with a flying suit; the average news van didn’t have a shot in hell. “It’s Tori. Your kids are safe. The building didn’t hurt them; I got them out in time. Rick and Beth are safe.”
Those glowing, terrible eyes lingered on her for a few moments longer, then began to turn back to Apollo. Acting on sheer instinct, Tori hit Ivan in the face with a torrent of flame. It surely didn’t hurt him, but it was bound to be bothersome. At this point, she’d settle for pissing him off enough to make him listen.
“Listen, dickhead! I didn’t race across Ridge City twice, stand under a falling building, and crash my suit just so you could ignore me.” She ceased her attack, and, in what she could only hope wouldn’t be the dumbest mistake of her life, shifted back to a full human-form. What did it really matter? Ivan could kill her either way. She still wore her Hephaestus mask, the only piece of the costume she’d had time to slip on before donning her suit, but otherwise she was clad in her usual sweats and t-shirt that she puttered around the lab in. It left her feeling a bit idiotic, like a child playing dress-up with a mask rather than a certified villain, but she pushed that feeling away. This was not a time for doubt. Costumes didn’t make the meta.
“Are you listening to me, Ivan? Ivan Gerhardt? Father of Rick and Beth Gerhardt, who are both still alive. Get your shit together, Ivan. You would never let me slide for going this far out of control. You’d smack me on the back of the head and mutter about the importance of keeping one’s power in check. God damn it, Ivan, you don’t get months of being that smug and proper only to lose your shit like this.”
To her surprise as much as anyone’s, it was working. The personal attacks kept Ivan’s shining eyes focused on Tori, rather than Apollo. He was listening, which was good; she just didn’t know if he was hearing her. What little optimism she possessed wavered; Ivan had shifted toward her and drawn back his fist.
She knew that stance. It was the one he’d used on her the very first time they met. He’d held back as much as possible before punching her, and even though she was in fire-form, he’d still nearly killed her. If he let loose as things were now, she’d be lucky if there was even enough pulpy residue left of her to bury.
“Oooh, getting aggressive. Am I supposed to be scared?” She was, in fact, terrified, and it was only thanks to Ivan’s self-control lessons that she kept her voice from quivering. Showing weakness was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Not right now. “Can you hear me in there, Ivan? How are you going to explain to Rick and Beth that you killed the nice young woman you introduced them to? Because that’s something you’
ll have to do. They’re alive, you willfully-deaf bastard!”
Those damn eyes were locked on her and the fist tightened. If she hurried, there might still be time to run. Probably not far or fast enough, but it could buy her a few more precious seconds of life. The human brain, even a meta one, was hard-wired for self-preservation, and in that moment, any action that might allot her a few more moments of breath seemed like utter brilliance.
“You won’t attack me.” She sounded a lot more sure than she felt, but given that she was standing instead of running, perhaps she was surer than she realized. “You can’t. I am a full member of our guild, and I have done nothing wrong. If you strike me, you break the code. I don’t care how pissed you are, I don’t care how much control Ivan’s lost. He won’t let you do that. Ivan loves that damn, annoying, fucking code more than anything except his kids. He won’t break it. He won’t kill his own apprentice. He—”
Without her suit, Tori couldn’t even see the movement, but as a blast of wind struck her, she thought for an instant that she’d been wrong, that Ivan had hit her, and that he had done so with such power that she only registered the force, not the pain. But then she saw his hand, still balled into a fist, fewer than two inches from her stomach. His face was directly in front of her, and it was no longer smiling. Now it was pinched in visible pain as an internal war waged inside him.
Reaching down slowly—the last thing she wanted was for him to think he was under attack— she laid her hands on top of his quivering fist. “Ivan. It’s okay. They’re safe. But the city is going crazy. You once told me that Rick saved the world because he gave you the desire to protect it. Well, right now, they need you to save their home, to make sure they stay safe. They need you. I need you. The whole damn guild needs you. So please, quit fucking around with the pity party and get your ass back in the driver’s seat.”
His eyes closed for barely longer than a blink, but when they opened again, they were different. They were still black with the red runes in place, but the gleeful shine had gone out of them. A small tear made its way from the right eye, leaving a trail of smeared blood as it fell down his face. Bit by bit, the fist in her hands opened, and finally gave her fingers a light squeeze.
“Tori... thank you.”
It was only when she heard his voice that Tori let out the breath she’d been holding since she landed. Ivan was back. The day was far from over, and they still had a lot of shit to slog through, but just knowing her teacher had returned made the idea of it all the more bearable.
“Yeah, well, you technically saved my life once. I’m not big on owing debts.”
“I meant for saving my kids,” Ivan replied. “Though keeping me from killing everyone in the state is also appreciated.”
“The state? You were that off your rocker?” Tori asked.
“If anything, I’m being conservative in my estimate. There are certain aspects of my power I might not have told you about.” Ivan looked down at his hands, almost as if he were realizing for the first time that they were coated in dried blood. “I was just so mad when I saw that school go down. What about the other children inside?”
Tori looked away from Ivan for the first time since she’d landed. Before a word left her lips, one of his blood-covered hands fell gently on top of her head.
“Forgive me. That wasn’t a fair question to ask. I’m sure you did all that you could. Those who were lost are not marks on your soul. That honor belongs to the ones who endangered them in the first place.” Ivan turned from Tori to Apollo, who was slowly trying to stagger to his feet behind them.
“Ivan...” Tori warned.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got control of myself again, and I won’t be letting that go anytime soon. That said, I am still rightfully pissed off, and I feel that Apollo has some explaining to do.” He looked past Tori to the dented and smoking remains of her meta-suit. “Think your Hephaestus model will still function?”
“Maybe. Took a hell of a beating coming in, but most of the damage was confined to the left arm.”
“Go see if you can get it up and running,” Ivan ordered. “Apollo is going to fill me in on exactly what’s happening, and then we’re going to start the counterattack. Murky as the last half hour has been, I still recall seeing hordes of crooks roaming the streets, attacking our people. As a councilor of the guild, that is something I simply cannot allow to stand.”
“So Fornax isn’t done for the day?” Tori asked. Though the words came out teasing, there was a serious undercurrent of fear beneath them.
“Fornax is long dead; today he was only briefly resurrected. No, my actions now will simply be as the guild guard dog.”
“Maybe I should call you Spot, then,” she replied.
“That sounds like the sort of joke Balaam would make. I don’t plan to be nearly that lovable.” Ivan turned to Apollo, who’d managed to brace himself against a tree and was watching the exchange with a mix of relief and confusion. “Think less Lassie, more Cerberus.”
* * *
Dapper Doll struggled under the weight of the multi-armed meta-human that had pinned her to the street. She’d made it through ten gang members before this one had caught her from behind, twisting her limbs before she could counter. Struggle as she might, without the ability to move her hands, she was nearly powerless.
Her attacker used one of his two free arms to pull out a long, dangerous-looking knife.
“Always wanted to see what was under that pale skin.”
At those words she redoubled her efforts, but it made no difference. The weapon inched closer to her stomach. She was seconds away from wearing her guts on the outside when a red blade burst through her attacker’s throat. No... that wasn’t right. It came out of his throat, along with two more from the back edges of his neck. His eyes widened as the three blades made a single circle, sending his head toppling down onto her chest.
The scream left her throat before she realized it would be more prudent to keep her mouth shut, given that the exposed neck would be showering her with blood in seconds. That shower never came, however. Blood fired up like a geyser, rising through the air until it flowed into a thick, red bubble oozing down the street. As the blood vacated her dead attacker, a small symbol flickered into view below the remains of his neck, glowing for less than a second before it faded from sight. Dapper Doll shoved the corpse off her, careful to avoid the knife, and pulled herself up to see what was happening.
All along the street, gang members were sinking to the ground, heads neatly parted and blood draining from their bodies. Every drop of it flowed toward a figure walking calmly down the street. Her raven-black hair was held back by a helmet which matched her armor, all the exact color of the blood seeping out of her headless victims. She paused her saunter to reach into the bubble of red liquid that trailed her. When her hand emerged, it gripped a massive scythe, far larger than she should be able to wield, and the bubble grew a bit smaller.
Turning with her new weapon in hand, she and Dapper Doll at last locked eyes. Her gaze housed a pair of sclerae that were full of blood, long streams of it running from their corners and soaking her face.
“Morgana La Faye. The Blood Witch,” Dapper Doll whispered. Though this particular villain had come along before Dapper Doll joined the AHC or was ever a meta-human, she was still famous, even decades later. With the power to manipulate blood, even as it pumped through other’s bodies, she was regarded as one of the deadliest meta-humans in known history. While others might have been stronger, Morgana could kill with a single thought.
“I thought you were dead.” Dapper Doll wasn’t sure if she was about to die or not. The adrenaline from her last encounter was still tingling in her veins as she stretched her fingers and prepared to go down swinging.
“Get ready for a lot of that today,” Morgana replied. Her voice was surprisingly pleasant, given that she was walking amid a sea of corpses that she’d created. “But you don’t need to be so tense. My orders are to deal with the vio
lent criminals. Capes are off-limits unless they make themselves a nuisance.”
With the body of her would-be killer still laying at her feet, Dapper Doll felt certain that she’d rather have the Blood Witch on her side, at least until they restored some order to the streets. Maybe someone could bring her down later—Erinite didn’t have any blood, so he could give it a shot—but Dapper Doll getting beheaded in the street wasn’t going to help the AHC or Ridge City.
“With you as backup, I think we’ll make short work of this,” Dapper Doll said at last.
Morgana smiled, a feature that would have seemed gentle if not for the bloody tearstains framing her face. “I am only the first of our backup. Rest assured, very soon Balaam’s followers will see why our guild has so few uprisings.” She swept her blood-scythe through the air, testing its heft.
“This is a mistake that I will make sure no one is ever stupid enough to repeat.”
Chapter 87
Chloe didn’t really have much of a plan as she raced forward, watching with wonder as Beverly clotheslined both of the bigger metas into a wall. Even the fire-pants thing had just been a stroke of luck. How could she have known that the woman in the weird dress and shoes would be a braggart? Still, she would take luck over nothing, especially after watching that woman kick a freaking dragon across the street. One of those attacks and Chloe was a goner. She really needed to think of a phrase that lent itself to being indestructible. Especially as she ran forward with no actual idea of how she was going to stop this woman.
The fire was slowly going out; Chloe’s best guess was that it needed fresh lies to keep it fueled. Nevertheless, her enemy was still distracted. With nothing else up her sleeve, Chloe decided to play the odds. If she was making a stupid, suicidal rush anyway, she may as well get some cosmic aid on her side.
“Fortune favors the bold,” Chloe whispered. Instantly, the flames upon woman’s leggings went out. She looked around in surprise just in time to see Chloe run up and shove her in the chest. It was a lot like shoving a brick wall and had the predictable result of sending the barista sprawling to the ground instead of her intended victim, arms already going numb from pain.
