by Hayes, Drew
“Me? Maybe,” Violet replied. “There’s no chance Alice is flying anyone though. She looks like she might puke in the potted plants. We thought this was our last push so she put everything she had into it.”
“Vince and I are still pretty far east; we gave up moving toward Violet’s team in order to cut off a gang of reinforcement Sims. Unless anyone is closer, we may be the best option.” Chad sounded as calm as usual, though it wasn’t quite as comforting this time around. The pretend stakes were a little too high for just a voice to soothe anyone’s nerves.
“Then break off Sim engagement right now and run that way. I’ll try to crunch the numbers and give us a new time estimate, but I’ll be guessing at best so you have to hurry. Violet, take to the sky and try to meet up with them. There’s still a chance to pull this off yet.”
213.
“Disengage from the Sim fight” was easier said than done. There had been twenty of the damn things, and even after several minutes of fighting, Vince and Chad had only halved that. They could have gone faster if they were killing indiscriminately; however, since they’d thought their job was to delay, both had stuck to non-lethal options. Now, suddenly the fate of the world was back in play, and it was on them to deal with it – partly because they were the closest, but also because it had been their mistake that kept the world in danger. If they’d gone for the kill then this whole thing would have been over with time to spare. Maybe there was a lesson in that, although it wasn’t one Vince felt like dwelling on in the moment.
Not while there was work left to be done.
“Do we run?” Vince yelled over to Chad, who was sliding his bone blades into the pseudo-spine of another Sim.
“They’d chase us, and that would only make the battle we’re running toward harder. Do you have enough electricity to stun all of them? That could buy us enough time to get away.”
Vince would have felt more comfortable if he’d had a little extra juice on hand, but they didn’t really have the time to talk over every option. Better to just try and then figure out something else if it failed. Backing up to get as many targets in sight as possible, Vince took a careful breath, charging up his electricity as fast as he could, and then let fly a torrent of bolts. Using a scatter-shot wasn’t as precise as aiming – it was uncomfortably akin to what his power did before he learned to control it – but the upside was that he could hit a larger number of enemies at once. The air crackled as bright blue light seared through it, some bolts hitting only the ground but most smashing into a Sim.
He didn’t get all of them; these units were better than some of the older models they’d fought. But at least seven of the remaining ten fell to the ground, momentarily stunned. Before Vince could speak, Chad had darted over behind one of the three still standing and cleaved its head from its torso. The man was a blur, tearing through the last three Sims like a whirlwind of bone and death. When Chad stopped worrying about striking with mercy, he was a whole other level of terrifying.
“Let’s go,” Chad called as the last Sim’s head crashed to the ground. Go they did, sprinting away from the Sims, some still recovering while others were permanently swept off the battlefield. “Will, do you have a destination for us?”
“Not yet, our target is being moved,” Will replied. “Just head east for now, and I’ll give you more precise directions when you get closer.”
“How are you holding up over there?” Vince asked. He couldn’t imagine how they’d have done this without Will, and he dearly hoped Shane and Thomas were keeping the team’s most important asset safe.
“We’re fine. Things are little bumpy, but I’ll be here to guide you until the end.”
* * *
While not traditionally a fan of lying, Thomas could see the value in Will’s falsehood. The others had enough on their plates; they didn’t need to split their focus worrying about something they wouldn’t be able to help with.
The truth of the matter was that a lot of Sims were heading their way – somewhere between forty and fifty from what Will’s drone had picked up, with others potentially joining the mob as it moved. The more Sims Shane killed, the more seemed to hear the distress calls and start heading their way. He’d done an incredible job so far: horrifying, but still incredible. But this was too much to ask of any one student. When that mass of Sims arrived, not even Shane would be able to hold the line, no matter how much he insisted otherwise.
“Shane, just hang on for a few more minutes,” Will called through the dome. “I’ve reached out to everyone who was nearby and they’re on their way. Selena’s group will be here in about two minutes, with Roy’s people not far behind. If you can last that long, you’ll have help.”
“Tell them to take their time; I don’t really need the assistance. I’ve got this.” Shane sounded confident on the other side of the dome, but Thomas could see the worry in his eyes. This fight had been draining, and no one had taken on more Sims than Shane. He had to be feeling it, but he was still planted in the alleyway, refusing to give an inch. Thomas might be able to help out a little bit when the action started since he could make the dome grow appendages to swing about, but focusing on defense would limit him greatly. Shane was going to need help; it was just a question of if he’d be able to hold out until it arrived.
The clacking of keys was almost melodic as Will directed his remaining drones across the battlefield, trying with all his might to gather a little more information to help the others. Without throwing so much as a single punch, Will had unquestionably proven himself the MVP of this trial, win or lose. They needed him, and would until this was over. Thomas and Shane had to make sure nothing got to Will, or else the whole thing might very well be done.
“Finally!” Will clapped his hands and rubbed them together, reading the data on his screen with a triumphant grin before tapping his earpiece. “Chad and Vince, I’ve got good news. The Sim has stopped running and holed up in a location. Let me zoom in a little closer with my drone and I’ll get you details. It looks like the building is on 20th Street, across from a courthouse. You’ll know it because it’s a… oh come on. Haven’t they taken this far enough?”
Thomas couldn’t quite make out Vince or Chad’s reply, but he watched as Will closed his eyes and drew in some deep breaths before responding. “Because it’s cruel. Because it’s unnecessary. And maybe because it’s something that’s come up before, if I’m honest. It just sucks is all. The building you two are heading toward is an orphanage, complete with what look like Sim-children who are trapped inside with the bad guys. To save the world you have to fight your way through a building full of orphans, because apparently whoever sets these tests up is more sadistic than I realized.”
Through the dome, Thomas could see the first of the giant group of Sims step into view, causing Shane’s shadows to stir. As he watched more of them appear it occurred to Thomas that for someone so smart, Will probably should have caught onto the staff’s sadistic streak much earlier than this.
214.
“An occupied orphanage. Really. Even for Dean Blaine, that feels a touch over the top.” It was a testament to Chad’s cardiovascular system that he could speak so clearly while still running at a full sprint through the city streets. Vince could keep pace thanks to years of training, but making conversation during the run was a little more than he could manage.
It wasn’t until they slowed down, their destination appearing at the edge of their view, that Vince was finally able to reply to Chad. “It’s not sadism. It’s punishment. You and I had this guy dead to rights; the trial should have been over with time to spare. Instead, we did a sloppy job with the capture, assuming that just because we didn’t see any allies the Sim didn’t have any to call on, and because we didn’t secure him properly the world is still at risk. Those orphans would still be in danger, whether the Sim holed up in there or not. All of that because we didn’t take a little extra time to make sure our target was cut off from any help.”
“Perhaps. Or p
erhaps it is punishment for the fact that we left him alive. Killing is the only way to permanently neutralize a target; if we’d done it he could have never threatened anyone again.”
“But he gave up,” Vince pointed out. “I’ll accept that we made mistakes today, and if the class fails the test then the blame rightfully should be on us. I’ll never believe that killing a person who has no willingness to defend themselves is the right thing to do though.”
“I’ll admit it rubs me the wrong way as well, hence why I didn’t chop his head off.” Chad glanced toward the orphanage, still too far away for Vince to see clearly, and let out a resigned sigh. “Yet the world remains in danger, and the fault for that lies on us. My sense of morality has had to grow and evolve since starting our education here; this may be one more aspect of it. At the very least, are we on the same page for this fight? No more second chances.”
It was slow and begrudging, but Vince nodded his acceptance. Things were different this time around; they probably didn’t even have the time to be gentle if they wanted to. With no accurate idea of when the clock was restarted, they were flying blind. All they could do was stop the Sim as fast as possible, which almost certainly meant going for the kill over the capture. They gave the Sim a chance to end things peacefully, and he’d used it to fool them. That was all the mercy they could afford with the world in the balance.
“He’s not alone this time. I can make out three adult Sims standing near the door, and we’d be idiots not to assume more were inside. Our best bet is probably to stick with the same strategy: you go at the front hard while I slip in unnoticed and try to execute the target.”
“Won’t they know you’re coming as soon as they see me?” Vince asked. “We just used the same tactic; they’re bound to expect it this time.”
“Whether they expect it or not is irrelevant,” Chad replied. “The point of stealth is not to be able to slip past people who aren’t expecting you; that’s a relatively simple skill to learn. No, the point of being adept at stealth is to slip by an entire room of people looking specifically for you by sneaking right behind them. Trust me; if you can hold out on the front, I can make it inside.”
“Chad, I know you’re not really one to overestimate yourself, but are you sure? Bet the world on it sure?”
This time, the response was delayed as Chad took another long look at the orphanage. “I may fail. That’s possible no matter what the mission or opponent is. Life takes unexpected turns, and it’s always possible my abilities won’t be enough. However, if we both try to storm the front then they know where we are and can figure out how to deal with us. By getting inside I can take them out one at a time, sowing uncertainty and panic. Nothing is guaranteed, but I truly believe this is our best path to victory. That said, you may have the harder job this time. We don’t know how many Sims are in there or how powerful they are. You might charge the front only to find yourself staring down an army.”
It was possible, Chad was certainly right. And while plenty of the Sims went down like cannon fodder, the ones in this trial so far had been a little tougher. If this was the final boss fight, the guards probably wouldn’t be pushovers. And that was without even taking into account that they had an entire building of innocent civilians to hide behind, which would definitely make the fight even more complicated.
“How long do you need me to keep their focus so you can get inside?”
Doing mental math faster than Vince could ever dream of accomplishing, Chad swirled a few numbers around his head and came up with a figure. “Two minutes, minimum. One for careful approach, one for infiltration. After that, I’ll have a whole building to work in.”
“Then I’ll last for at least two minutes, army or not. No matter what you see or hear, don’t worry about me. Just focus on the task at hand.”
Chad smiled, a surprising expression in a situation as grim as this one. “Of all the things I thought to concern myself with, the idea that you wouldn’t prove capable to the task never crossed my mind. Are there any other questions, or are you prepared to start?”
Vince could think of a dozen more ideas or plans that might be worth discussing, however he brought up none of them. They could spend all the time they had left standing around, tossing out ideas that might ultimately prove slightly better than what they were planning yet would never have the chance to be tested. Planning was for when there wasn’t a clock bearing down on them, threatening the end. Today, a rough idea and action were better than comprehensive planning and delay. Win or lose, at least this way they had a chance to try and save the world.
“I’m ready when you are.” Stretching his arms, Vince uttered a phrase he would have never expected to say in the entirety of his life. “Let’s go storm the orphanage.”
215.
Thomas’s teeth were gritting as he focused everything he had on keeping the dome intact. This gang of Sims – this army, really – was smarter than the previous ones. They were keeping their distance, testing the defenses, and only sending in a few small groups at a time. Some had even set up on other buildings’ roofs and started sending ranged attacks toward Shane and the dome. Individually, each strike was tough, but combined they were starting to test the limits of what Thomas’s energy could endure. While he was holding strong for the moment, eventually he’d get worn down. When that happened, Will would have no protection from ranged attacks.
“Wow, they are really coming after us.” Will glanced up from his console, toward the orange barrier that he wasn’t able to see through. “There are a ton of them out there. You’re not going to be able to hold out for long, are you?”
“I’m not done yet,” Thomas said, nearly spitting the words as he endured yet another round of ranged assaults hitting his dome.
“But you will be soon. And perhaps I’ve done all I need to. Maybe we’re better off if I close up shop and we flee to a safer location.” Will’s hand started toward the top of the console, clearly intent on shutting it down.
“This guy has slipped past our people once already. Until he’s down for the count, we need you. Don’t worry about the Sims out here, that’s for Shane and me to deal with. You just focus on guiding Vince and Chad to the one trying to blow up the world.” Thomas didn’t feel as hopeful as he sounded, but he said the words anyway. Being stalwart in the face of hopeless odds was part of what Heroes did, and it wasn’t like they were beaten yet. So long as he and Shane were still standing, there was hope. Granted, he didn’t know how things could turn around, but supposedly there were others coming. Once they arrived, the options would widen considerably. Thomas just had to hold out until reinforcements appeared, and he was determined to do just that.
He would keep Will safe until victory, reinforcements, or a brain hemorrhage arrived.
* * *
“That is a fucking lot of Sims.” Roy didn’t quite let out a whistle, but it was close as he peered from the alley toward the swarms of Sims converging on Will’s location. “Do we go in swinging?”
“No, the ones on the ground aren’t the real issue. Our big problems are the Sims shooting down at Thomas’s barrier.” Alex pointed up to the nearby roofs, where occasional blasts of energy could be seen firing off toward the bright orange glow of the dome. “If we can take those out, Shane can probably keep holding the alley.”
“Wait, Shane’s been holding the alley by himself? I assumed Thomas was pitching in too.” Camille was somewhere between impressed and doubtful as she surveyed the thick crush of mechanical bodies once more.
“Every now and then when one gets close, but Shane hasn’t let many come near enough for Thomas to even hit,” Alex told her. “This might be the first time he’s gotten a trial that played to his strengths. But not even he can deal with all these enemies sniping them, so we need to get rid of the ranged attackers. I can levitate us to the roofs, but they’ll probably start fighting back as soon as they spot us, or double down on trying to break Thomas’s dome.”
“So you need a dis
traction?” Roy asked.
“Less distraction, more target. We need someone to make too much trouble for the ranged Sims to ignore so that they have to start going after that threat instead of us or the dome. It won’t be a very pleasant job, since the brunt of a Sim army will be attacking you.”
“You can stop selling, I’m already in.” Roy gave his bat its usual test swing as a big grin slipped across his face. “Hershel may be the smart one, but I’ve got a PhD in kicking up shitshows. If you want trouble, there ain’t no better Super you’ll find to cause it. Just give me the word and I’ll get this party started.”
“I guess whenever you’re read–”
Alex didn’t even finish the sentence before Roy hunkered down in a squat and then leapt into the air, letting out a squeal of what sounded like excitement in the process.
He flew forward without any real trajectory, over the heads of the Sims who were turning to stare at the lone figure barreling through the sky. When Roy landed, he came down right in the center of the Sim formation, crashing onto a couple of units who crumpled into broken electronic bits under his boots. One swing of his heavy bat knocked all of the nearby ones away, and with a little bit of breathing room Roy decided it was time to address his audience.
“Hey there, shitheads. My name is Roy, and I came here to get revenge on every fuckin’ clock radio that ever woke me before I was ready. Y’all can line up orderly for your ass-kicking or come all at once, it makes no difference by me.”
While the Sims were thrown into chaos, Alex and Camille snuck away from Roy’s launch point, making their way toward the ranged Sims’ roofs. They’d asked for a distraction, and Roy had damn well delivered, but that was still a lot of opponents, even for him. If they didn’t hurry, Roy might go down before the job was done, and once that happened they’d have a much more difficult task ahead of them.
