“They also store gold and silver bullion,” added Shannon. “And there will be printing dies there as well.”
Insufferable know-it-all, thought Sally.
“If everyone is finished… I’ll get on with this briefing, since we’re almost there already.” Doublecharge glared around the cabin, and a tiny lightning bolt crackled between her eyes. Everyone shut up. “Speed’s of the essence, here, so let’s try to keep this from degenerating into either a slugfest or a running battle. Teams of two: Jack and Sally, Jason and Shannon, and Switchboard with me. Take down your nearest opponent. If you can’t, call in another team and tag out. We’ll start from the outside and work our way in. Reed will give us a single flyby pass before landing. Switchboard and I will deploy out the lock then. The rest of you follow upon set-down. Standard public protocol from here on out.”
Standard public protocol meant they were only to refer to one another by their alternate identities: Crackerjack and Mustang Sally, Mastiff and Vapor, Switchboard and Doublecharge.
“We’re over the Mint now,” came Reed’s voice over the cabin speakers. “I got two hostiles standing guard over, uh, some horses.”
“Horses?” repeated Doublecharge.
“Yes ma’am. Only… they look like they’re armored or mechanical or something.”
“Get a camera on them and feed it in here, Reed. Stand by for airlock deployment.”
In a moment, the cabin’s viewscreens showed a group of seven entities. They might have been armored horses. Or, like Reed said, they might have been mechanical devices. Two men in SWAT-level battle armor and cowboy hats stood guard over the mounts. They also had neckerchiefs, chaps, and spurs.
Jack burst out laughing. “Morons! I’ve got morons on my team!”
“Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” retorted Sally. “It’s been on the Westerns Channel all month.”
“Saw that, did you?” Jack rolled his eyes. In the five months Sally had been with Just Cause, he had yet to stump her with a movie quote.
“Switchboard, move out,” said Doublecharge. The two headed for the back of the Bettie, where a special airlock allowed the flying members of the team to enter or exit while the jet was airborne. “Crackerjack, call the ball for the team when it’s on the ground.”
“Yeth thir, Captain Doublecharge, ma’am.” Jack kicked his heels together, crossed his eyes, and saluted.
Sally heard thumps from the rear of the jet as the airlock opened. Reed whipped the Bettie around to kill its forward momentum. Switchboard and Doublecharge dove toward the cowboys. Electricity crackled around Doublecharge’s hands as she ordered the two men to lie on the ground with their hands on their heads.
Sally’s stomach leaped into her throat as Reed dropped the Bettie down to the pavement below and grounded the jet right in the middle of the street. The bomb bay doors opened and Jack ordered everyone out. “Reed, stay on the ground on hot standby unless you start taking fire.”
“Roger that,” replied the pilot.
The two cowboys’ eyes bugged out when the Bettie landed. Sally saw they looked terrified by the appearance of Just Cause on the scene. What did they expect, she wondered as her perceptions sped into high gear to give her plenty of subjective time for consideration and internal commentary. It’s not like we’d just stand by and let them get away with it.
The pudgier cowboy raised his hands. At first Sally thought he was surrendering, but in a moment ribbons of energy flowed from them. The ribbons broadened to form a shimmering hemisphere over the robotic horses and the cowboys. The second man pulled a Nextel phone from his belt and shouted rapid-fire Spanish into it.
Sally waited, impatient for Jack to catch up with her. She disliked being partnered with anyone, because she always felt like she wasted time when she had to operate at “normal” speeds. And she was steamed because Doublecharge partnered Jason with Shannon. Sally stamped her feet like a racehorse chomping at the bit. Everyone seemed to move through the air as if it were as thick as molasses. She couldn’t stand it any more and made herself slow down enough to speak to Jack on a comprehensible level. “I’m going to scout inside real quick. Be back before you miss me.”
She zipped away as Jack said “Wait, what?” She’d leave the others to take care of the two cowboys outside. The fat one had force fields, which meant he’d be a little harder to take down. Or maybe not; Switchboard could probably put the man to sleep with his psionic powers.
Chaos reigned inside of the Mint. Despite heightened security measures implemented since 9/11, nobody had really ever expected terrorists to try to rob the Mint. Security had been arranged to minimize the risk of demolition, not robbery. Public tours of the Mint by were no longer permitted, but plenty of employees remained inside the building. A Mexican standoff had developed on the main printing floor. Three more cowboys—one actually a cowgirl—had taken some employees hostage and were using them as human shields against the armed Treasury guards.
Two more perpetrators dressed like the others were breaking apart machinery for the plates and dies inside. One of them had appropriated an entire roll of paper. Sally had to give them a little more credit than Jack had. He’d thought they were common bank robbers, especially given their whole Wild West motif. They weren’t bothering with the gold or silver bullion in deep storage; they were stealing the materials with which to print their own money, and the false bills would appear perfect to anyone except a Treasury agent.
Doublecharge had said speed was of the essence, and nobody was faster than Sally.
Nobody.
She ran down the line of guards and pushed clip releases with one hand while she popped the chambered rounds out of the slides with the other. She’d practiced the technique for hours until she could perform it faster than even a seasoned gunman like Jack could pull a trigger. In spite of her speed, one guard got a surprised round off. Sally cursed and changed direction instantly, something she could do no matter how fast she was running. She could see the bullet spiraling through the air right toward a hostage. She slapped it aside with one of her horseshoes to send it toward a wall.
She paused in front of the guard who’d fired just long enough to disable his gun and waggle a reproachful finger in his face. Then she sped away and headed for the three villains who held civilian hostages. One of them twitched suddenly in her direction faster than anyone should have been able to with a motion almost a blur even to Sally.
Something wrapped around her legs, constricted, and she skidded hard into a printing press. Her goggles cracked with the impact. At least it wasn’t my skull, she thought in a daze. Blotchy stars danced in her visions from the force of the impact. What the hell was that? She looked down toward her feet. A sinuous ribbon of ruby-colored energy wrapped around her ankles and held them fast. The end of the ribbon curled away to end in the fist of a tall, reedy cowboy with a real soup-strainer of a mustache.
“Usted la ha conseguido, Azote?” shouted the cowgirl to the man holding the energy whip.
“Sí, ella no puede escaparse,” said Azote in satisfaction. He twitched the whip and jerked Sally sideways.
“Hay más de ellos afuera,” shouted another villain.
“There are more of us in here too, asshole,” called a familiar voice from high above. Sally glanced up and saw Jack perched in a high window, a pistol in each hand. “Hablo español. Usted entiende inglés? Let the hostages go and let’s go outside and talk this over.”
The woman glared up at him. She held something Sally thought was a ball bearing. Upon further examination afforded by her accelerated perceptions, she could see the woman had similar metallic spheres all over her costume. The way the woman brandished it, the little ball was obviously some kind of weapon. “No chance, Americano. Drop your weapons, or we start killing hostages.”
The energy ribbon around Sally wound further around her and constricted like a serpent. She gasped for breath and struggled against the crimson force.
Jack didn’t move. “Come o
n, this isn’t the way you want this to go. You’ve seen the movies… you know how it ends when you take hostages.”
“We’re walking out of here,” called the woman. “And you can’t stop us or we start killing them, starting with your friend.”
“Let’s make a deal,” called Jack. “You release all the hostages and you can take me instead.”
“No deal,” she said.
“Come on,” said Jack in his most convincing voice. “My team isn’t going to attack you if you’re holding me. Let’s just let you guys get out of here with a minimum of fuss and bother and let these poor people get back to their loved ones.”
The big man holding the roll of paper looked nervous. “Él tiene quizá razón, Pistola.”
“Shut up, Cañón,” hissed Pistola. “I know what I’m doing.”
“You guys know who I am?” Jack called to the security guards in English.
“Yes, sir,” replied one of the Treasury guards.
“Then you know I have the authority to order you guys to get the fuck out of here. Clear out. As of right now, this incident is under the jurisdiction of Just Cause and Homeland Security. You’re complicating things and people are going to die.”
The guards paused, uncertain what to do.
“Move it!”
One of the guards made a decision. “Okay, guys. You heard the man. We ain’t getting paid to stop supervillains.”
“But, Chuck…” started one of the men who plainly wanted to play hero.
“Shut up, Joe. I want to live to get my pension.”
The other man shrugged. “Good point.” The guards backed out through the doors to leave the printing floor vacant except for Jack, the cowboys, and their hostages.
“All right,” called Jack. “Now are you guys going to play ball or what?”
Sally twitched a little as she tried to find some weak spot in the energy ribbon binding her, but it held her so tight she could barely breathe. Nobody had ever managed to snare her when she was running at speed before. For the first time in her life, she’d found someone faster than her, and she was scared.
Pistola came to a decision. “All right, mister. You come down here and surrender and we’ll let these people go. Drop your weapons.”
Jack leaped down to the printing floor. Another man might have broken his legs in the drop, but Jack’s invulnerability protected him from harm. He set his guns on the ground and kicked them gently aside, then undid the clasps on his combat harness and let it fall to the floor. He smiled, put his hands on his head, and took a couple of steps forward. “Let the hostages go.”
“I don’t know, Pistola. He’s got something planned. I don’t trust him.” One of the cowboys was actually another cowgirl, Sally realized, but with a butch haircut and square jaw.
“Quiet, Espada. I’ve got it under control.”
Jack waited patiently as Azote extended another energy ribbon around him and soon he lay on the ground next to Sally, trussed up like a rodeo calf. “How are you?” he whispered.
“Hurt.”
A worried expression crossed Jack’s face. “You going to be all right, kiddo?”
“I don’t know.” She was glad her goggles were cracked; Jack wouldn’t see her tears of fear and frustration.
“You shouldn’t have run off like that,” he chastized.
“I’m a speedster. Running off is what I do best.”
“Good point. So what’s the plan?”
“What do you mean, what’s the plan? Don’t you have a plan?”
“No.” Jack gave her his best infectious grin. “Do you?”
“Idiot.” Sally grumbled. In spite of her dismay, Jack’s indomitable spirit made it difficult for her to remain miserable.
“You people get out of here right now,” Pistola shouted at the hostages. The hostages, stunned, looked around helplessly. “Mierda, tengo que tirarlos para hacer que entienden? Move it before you get shot, dumbshits!”
The prisoners headed for the exit, first tentative, then in a mad panicky rush. Pistola watched them go, and then turned to look critically at her new hostages. “Llévelos, Puño. Vayamos a los caballos.” Pistola slipped some printing dies into her belt.
The largest of the cowboys easily lifted both Sally and Jack under his arms as if they were no more than bags of charcoal. Jack looked up at him pleasantly. “Hi, handsome. In town long?”
“Qué? No… no entiendo,” stammered the huge man.
“No hable con él, Puño,” ordered Pistola. “Consiga listo para luchar. Get ready to fight.”
The five robbers activated their various parapowers. Ball bearings whizzed around Pistola like miniature planets. Fresh ribbons of red energy crackled from Azote’s hands. The bonds he’d laid around Sally and Jack showed no signs of weakening. Sally wondered how many ribbons he could maintain before his control started to waver. Espada’s forearms lengthened and stiffened into bony, razor-sharp blades. Puño’s hands were full of Sally and Jack, but he was probably just as tough as he was strong and wouldn’t shirk from fighting when it erupted. Cañón, who was almost as big as Puño, hefted the large roll of paper as easily as if it had been a balloon.
“Going to just ride off into the sunset while the closing credits roll?” asked Jack. “Retire to Bolivia and have a whole flock of little pistoleros?”
“Shut up!” Pistola screamed.
“Are they outside?” Sally mouthed to Jack. He winked back.
“Do you see anything?” Espada whispered to Pistola as she scanned the street outside.
“No… that’s what worries me. Escudo and Cuchillo are gone. So are the horses.”
A cool breeze played across Sally’s face. She didn’t think much of it until she also saw a trail of mist float past as well. Jack’s smile grew wider as he saw it as well. “Well I sure hope nothing bad happens to you guys.” He spoke with emphatic clarity. “Especially to the guy holding the red energy whips.”
Sally got the hint and gathered herself for a quick getaway. Even tucked under Puño’s meaty arm, she could still shake herself free of his grasp by shifting her weight at top speed. All she needed was a moment of freedom from Azote’s bonds. She knew Shannon was in the room with them; an ace in the hole, but without any offensive powers. All she could do was become invisible and insubstantial. Sally didn’t see how Shannon could possibly be any use, or what Jason could see in the little slut for that matter. Her temper rose quickly through the dull roar in her head.
Shannon materialized suddenly to one side of Azote. She faded into vision and solidity, already spinning around in midair, one leg tucked underneath her and the other whipping around toward Azote’s head. She caught him by surprise before he could react with his whips. Shannon’s foot connected with his jaw. It sounded like a baseball bat striking a punching bag. Azote’s eyes rolled back in his head as he tumbled to the floor, unconscious or maybe dead. Sally caught a glimpse of a superior grin on Shannon’s face before she faded from view again, just as one of Espada’s arm-blades cut through the space in which she’d stood.
“Wow,” said Jack, just their bonds faded into nothingness. Sally shook herself free at super-speed. For Puño it would have felt like trying to hold onto a jackhammer. She dropped to the ground and immediately ran to the far end of the lobby to get her bearings. Her head still buzzed from her collision with the printing press. With a crash of glass, Jason smashed through one of the arched windows into the lobby. Sally smiled. He loved to break stuff and lived for good brawls. From the look of excited anticipation on his face, he was ready to go toe to toe with whoever dared stand up to him.
Doublecharge flew in through the broken window. Electricity spat and crackled off her hands. “Just Cause,” she announced. “Surrender now.”
“Entrega, amigo,” suggested Jack to Puño. “Usted lo sentirá si usted no hace. Give it up, dude.”
“We can take them, Vaqueros,” cried Pistola.
Shannon appeared right behind her, one of Jack’s guns to
uching the back of Pistola’s head. “I’d reconsider if I were you,” she said.
Puño released Jack and put up his hands. “Don’ shoot, I give up!” he managed in heavily-accented English. Espada and Cañón realized they were outnumbered and out-powered and likewise surrendered.
Pistola spat on the floor in fury and put up her own hands.
“Babe,” said Jack with a cheerful lilt, “You should have just stayed in bed.”
Several minutes later, Switchboard supervised the administration of sleeper sets to the would-be bank robbers. Sleeper sets were a safe way of keeping parapowered prisoners unconscious. They transmitted a signal into the wearer’s brain that induced a coma. The bandits would be kept safely asleep until a Deep Six transport could collect them and take them to the prison where they would await their trials.
Sally sat off to one side and suffered a paramedic’s examination. He checked to make sure she hadn’t suffered any overt ill effects from Azote’s powers or her hard collision with the printing press. As he worked, she watched as Jack recounted Shannon’s takedown of the energy whip-wielding villain to Jason. Jason shared in conspiratorial laughter with Shannon and Jack. Each guffaw felt like an icy dagger in Sally’s heart.
“Well, miss, you took quite a knock on the head,” said the paramedic as he shut his diagnosis case. “I’m calling it a mild concussion. Have you ever had one before?”
“Yeah,” she replied. “A few months ago.”
“You need to follow up with your own doctor. Multiple concussions can get pretty severe over time. You might think about wearing a helmet and mouth guard to reduce the risk of further traumatic impacts.”
“Okay.” She had no intention of doing any such thing, but the paramedic didn’t need to know that; he was only doing his job.
“I can’t find any injuries related to the… whatever you called them. Energy whips?”
Just Cause Universe 2: The Archmage Page 5
