by Hayes, Drew
“I call this move the Johnny Cash. Absorbers do one at a time, right? If you want to get rid of my ring of fire then you’ll have to show yourself, Vince.”
No, she was wrong. He had to switch if he wanted to safely get past her defenses, that part was true. But there was still a way forward, a path to victory, for those willing to pay the toll. Vince didn’t hesitate. He ran through the flames, feeling a familiar sear on his skin as they burned his flesh. His reward for the burns was landing another punch to her ribs, this time much harder than a mere jab. Lucinda tried to jump away again, but Vince wasn’t giving her the chance. A kick to her knee sent her sprawling to the ground, and Vince was right behind. He pinned her legs with his knee, placing a fist against her stomach. The lights flashed on as Vince quit absorbing; he was going to need access to kinetic energy for this part.
“So, that’s it huh? You’ve got me pinned, that must mean you’re pretty sure this is done.” Lucinda was still calm, unnervingly so. Though her left arm had gotten pinned under her back in the fall, she was still moving her free hand slowly, almost at random. “This is the part where you try and talk me into surrender, right?”
“Maybe.” Vince leaned forward, grabbing Lucinda’s elbow and jam her free hand against the ground, eventually dragging it around behind her head. “But first I’m going to make sure you don’t torch me. Or did you think I wouldn’t figure out that you don’t actually need to aim directly at me to score a hit? Just a spark would do it, once you had the oxygen moved.”
Lucinda stared at Vince for several seconds, her arm twitching as she struggled to get it free. Finally, she went limp. With a weary sigh, Lucinda leaned her head back down to the ground. “Damnit. Thought that would buy me enough time to counterattack if I kept you talking. Fine. I’ve got my pride. I can admit when I’m bested; you’ve pretty clearly got me in a deathblow. It’s your win, Vince. I give.”
“And Vince Reynolds wins another match by locking his enemy in a deathblow! Looks like Lander is back on track.” Victor was as enthusiastic as ever; apparently unbothered by the destruction this last match had left in its wake. “Lucinda, please let Vince breathe normally again, and then both of you get over to the med rooms. Vince, you can skip depleting your energy source since your opponent gave up.”
Pushing himself to his feet, Vince enjoyed a deep, oxygen-rich breath as he helped Lucinda up. She was largely unharmed except for a few broken ribs. Now that he had a moment to think, Vince realized how much his face and arms hurt from running through the fire. The sooner he got to a healer, the better.
“How did you know?” Lucinda asked. “That I was bluffing to buy time, I mean.”
“I’m pretty good at fighting. Not much else, honestly, but that I’m good at. Part of that means getting a sense of what my opponents can do. Since you were able to guide the fire after it left your hand, it only made sense that you could still strike, even with your arm on the ground. Also, my best friend is a really good liar. It’s given me a lot of practice in seeing people bluff.”
“Kind of weird, but whatever works I guess,” Lucinda replied. “That was a ballsy move, jumping through the fire.”
“You’re really hard to fight. I had to do whatever it took. Besides, I’m used to being burned.” Vince hesitated, suddenly unsure of how much he should say about his past. “It, um, took me a while to get control of my power, so I burned myself a lot by accident.”
Lucinda chuckled. “Seems like you’ve got it well in hand now. You’re damn strong yourself, you know. Maybe too strong.”
“What do you mean?”
She stopped walking, looking at him with a surprising expression of concern. “Haven’t you noticed? Even if I technically gave up, so far you’re the lone student here to win both fights securing deathblows. You’ve got so much power that it seems like the only way you can stop an enemy is by killing them. I’m glad you’re on the side of the Heroes, but that’s a scary amount of power for anyone to wield.”
Vince followed as she started walking once more, suddenly feeling far less exhilarated about his victory than he had moments prior.
277.
It shouldn’t have been that surprising. Charles Adair, before he was a titan of industry, before he was the Hero called Alchemist, even before he was husband to Shelby Hill, had been a Lander HCP student. Four years of his life had been spent roaming the halls, using the facilities, and sneaking away into hidden lift entrances. So when it came time for him to create a secure facility, one capable of withstanding attacks from multiple Supers at once, what else would he emulate but the place he’d probably felt the safest in his life?
The above-ground building was just a shell, that much was clear now. It existed as a front, a place to store useless people and equipment, but more importantly it was there to slow things down. Globe and his team had wasted precious time hunting through the building, restraining guards and searching for Shelby, before they finally uncovered a hatch leading deeper into the ground. Of course Charles would leave an empty front for the curious to find, keeping the real secrets tucked away underground.
There was no way of knowing how far down they’d have to go, or what would be waiting for them there. Technically, Globe could just start ripping up the floors and bring his team all the way to the bottom, but that came with serious risk. Charles was wily; he may not necessarily store his darkest secrets on the deepest floor. And there was a very real chance that so much damage could compromise the structural integrity of the underground base. Shimmerpath might be able to portal them all out of danger while Globe held back a collapse, but everyone else down there would be lost, Shelby included.
Globe took point, stepping into the dark tunnel. With a thought, he generated lights that danced through the air, illuminating a concrete hallway that might as well have screamed “HCP-style-construction” for how much it resembled the world under Lander. He waited patiently while the rest of his team came through. Only when they were all in did Globe seal the entrance, turning the metal door into a solid hunk of steel by fusing it all together. It might slow them down getting out if anything happened to him or Shimmerpath, but it was better than risking a foe slipping through behind them. Besides, the others were amped up to potent levels. Most of them could manage an obstacle like that without issue.
They didn’t dally once the door was shut, racing down a hall as fast as they could. Time was the enemy. The longer they took, the more Charles would be able to mount a defense. And worse, every passing second brought them closer to the end of their amplification. Once that gave, this would be a far tougher fight. Their best shot was to have everything settled by the time they were back to normal.
Even as he thought this, though, Globe knew Chuck would never make things that easy on them.
* * *
The clang of the opening door was a surprise. Dinner wasn’t scheduled for several hours, and no one had been to visit since the last round of interrogations. Perhaps it was time for more questions, although what was left to ask he couldn’t imagine. Everything had been taken, his life’s work dismantled. What more did they think he had to give?
“Good morning, Crispin.”
The fellow who stepped through wore a dark suit with a black tie, and that plain outfit was quite literally the most remarkable thing about him. If Crispin blinked, he wouldn’t have been able to pick the man strolling into his cell out of a crowd. It might be an ability, or maybe he was simply extraordinarily ordinary. Whatever the case, he was something new in the routine, and Crispin was a fan of that.
“Morning to you as well, stranger.” Crispin made no move to rise from his prison cot, the white fabric of his jumper creasing as he slightly shifted position. This felt interesting, but someone being sent to secretly kill him would also fit that descriptor. Best to be on guard for now.
Outside the cell, there was the sound of yelling and running, to which the stranger paid only the barest amount of attention. “It seems we won’t have long to talk, I�
�m afraid. Even for someone as powerful and connected as my employer, there are limits as to what can be managed, especially on short notice. You’ll forgive me if I skip the formalities and cut to the chase. We have a job you’re needed for. Come with me, right now, and use your incredible gift. When the work is done, you’ll be able to walk away. Still a wanted man, of course, but one on the outside.”
“That’s all I get? A ‘job’ with no details and a vague promise of spending the rest of my life on the run? Not the most appealing of offers, and you skimped on the details.” Crispin paused, noting that the sounds of approach were getting closer. “Although I suppose that latter part is understandable, given the circumstances.”
“The work is simple. Someone is trying to break into a place my employer owns and he wants you to help his forces be strong enough to repel them. I’ve also been authorized to hand over a million dollars when the work is done. Seed money, to restart your life and perhaps make it out of the country where Heroes can’t reach you. But that’s all the information you get. The matter we’re dealing with is highly sensitive. I can’t even tell you where we’ll be going.”
A million dollars and a shot at freedom. There would be strings attached, there always were, however that was still good pay for a day’s work. “You know, when I was captured, the HCP dean who choked me knew that someone would come for me. He said that when this moment came, I should hide and refuse you, because he would stop at nothing to hunt me down and finish me for good.”
“Yet I notice you aren’t cowering under your cot.”
“No, I’m not,” Crispin agreed. He rose off the poor excuse for a bed, smoothing his jumpsuit out of habit rather than necessity. “I think I’d rather like the chance to prove him wrong. And pay him back for how I was treated at his hands. You’ve got a deal, stranger. Take me to your soldiers, and I’ll turn them into gods.”
The strange, plain man held out his hand, and Crispin took hold. They were gone seconds later when prison guards came rushing in to find only an empty cell.
278.
Shane had his mind made up; he was going to end this fight quickly. Keeping his ability to strike someone with their own shadow secret had been the right call during the first match, but after seeing Alice fight and hearing about Chad’s loss, it was clear that the stakes had been raised. He couldn’t afford to keep that tactic off the table for another round, especially not if Vince made it through his fight. One blow, at the start of the match, to get Shane into the next bout.
This was an odd field, one that looked like a deserted farm with a small patch of corn and a dilapidated barn. What had Lander used this field to train for? Probably better not to wonder, all things considered. Across the stretch of open, yellowed grass stood Shane’s opponent. She was watching his every movement closely, keeping careful tabs on how he held himself. From what Shane had gathered, she’d won her fight using a set of guns and rubber-bullets, meaning it was all the more important that he take her out quickly. As a Super without any kind of endurance abilities, getting shot by one of those in a vital spot would count as a deathblow. It spared the students from actual lethal injury by dealing with live-ammo, but it was still a humiliating way to go all the same. Shane couldn’t say it wasn’t a fair metric, though. The people they fought in the real world would absolutely have guns, and they wouldn’t be using rubber bullets.
“Introductions, please,” Victor commanded them.
“Lesley Huber, Weapons major. I’m going with the code name Dodge.”
“Shane DeSoto, Control major. My Hero name is going to be Styx.”
There was a brief pause before the crackle of static, and Shane couldn’t help but wonder if Victor was trying to build tension in the audience. “Very well then, time to begin!”
Shane didn’t delay for even a second. As soon as Victor gave the word, his sclera turned black as he willed Lesley’s shadow into movement. It arched up, ready to take out every muscle in the back of her calves with a single swipe. The blade jerked suddenly, slicing through the air… and connecting with nothing.
Somehow, Lesley had seen the attack coming. She’d flipped backward from a standing position, spinning in the air and keeping her legs out of range. It was an amazing move, so stunning Shane almost paused to admire it. Then he saw the glint of a muzzle in her hand as it raised to take aim. The idea was mad; there was no way she could land a shot like that while flipping backward. And yet, Shane still dove out of the way, barely avoiding the bullet that came racing through the air, directly on path with where his heart had been. He refused to take any opponent on this stage lightly, and it was an attitude that had just spared him a quick defeat.
Now on the defensive, Shane formed a barrier of whipping shadows around himself, similar to the technique he’d used against Professor Pendleton’s fog. Lesley had already landed and was still standing out in the open, gun raised, as she studied the frenzied barrier he’d surrounded himself with. One shot rang out, slamming against the edge of a shadow that cut it in half. A miss, but a closer miss than it should have been. How was she this good of a shot? Shane needed to figure out her power, and fast, if he wanted to have a chance of winning. But first, he needed to retake control of the fight.
A barrage of shadows swarmed around Lesley, striking from half a dozen different angles. Credit where it was due: the woman had chosen an apt Hero name. With seemingly no effort, she dove and ducked between the blades, still managing to fire off shots that came a little closer to breaking through his defense each time. Nothing took her by surprise, no matter the angle of the attack.
This wasn’t working. She was getting nearer to victory, while he was staying as ineffectual as before. Deciding it was time to use some strategy, Shane waited until her back was turned in a roll and then bolted for the withered patch of corn. Getting out of her line of sight should at least buy him some breathing room. Hopefully he’d be able to think of a new attack pattern with a few seconds of peace.
Shane made it into the corn without issue, rustling the stalks as he ran deeper into the paltry cover. He heard the crack of a gunshot seconds before the rubber bullet came tearing through the corn. The bullet slammed into his left forearm, smarting like hell but not leaving anything more than a bruise.
“Damn rubber bullets. A real one wouldn’t have been knocked off track by the corn.” Lesley sounded more annoyed than anything. And really, why wouldn’t she be? It was clear to Shane which of them had been running this fight since it started, so it was damn sure obvious to all the people watching. Shane had the power to animate shadows into living weapons while Lesley had a gun with fake bullets, and she’d driven him into hiding within the span of minutes.
Hunkering down, Shane reformed his barrier of shadows, hoping that the addition of cover by the corn would keep him safe. He needed to think of something. She was learning the timing of his shadows with every shot, and while he could make them go faster or slower with concentration, they’d default to a natural rhythm when he split his focus to attack. The bigger question was what the hell Lesley’s power was. She was able to avoid every attack he sent her way, often by less than an inch, and her aim was beyond good. So, a power that allowed surgically-precise dodging and near-perfect aim. Shane had grown up around Heroes; he’d seen a bevy of abilities in person and heard about more through his grandfather’s lessons.
The trouble was, there were too many options. Maybe she was using illusions to make him think he was attacking her while she carefully lined up shots. Or she was seeing through his eyes, knowing every move he was making and what his weak spots were. Hell, maybe she could look a few heartbeats into the future for all he knew. There just wasn’t enough information.
So what did he know? She favored ranged attacks, but she wasn’t a Ranged Combat major. Her training was in using normal bullets, since she hadn’t accounted for how the corn would affect the rubber ammo. The attack style she used focused on precision over quantity: every shot had been intended as a hit. Lesley d
idn’t waste her bullets. But why? If she fired more, she could have put extra pressure on him, maybe even scoring a few more hits. Was she starting off slow, taking a gauge of him at the start of the fight?
No; that might be true but it was only part of the explanation. Lesley chose her shots carefully because guns could only fire so many times before they needed to be reloaded, and that would be her most vulnerable moment. She was trying to delay it by making every bullet count. Shane hadn’t been keeping track of her ammo, and he had to assume she was using this chance to reload. In fact, that explained why he hadn’t seen any bullets fly by for several seconds.
His best chance was to make her drain the magazine again. Even if she had more guns and merely swapped them out, it would still be a moment where she was unarmed. That was the window Shane was aiming for, the short time where she’d be unable to counterattack.
Rising to his feet, Shane got ready to run. It was time to start drawing some fire.
279.
If Shane had been asked before the match whether or not he could keep the barrier of slicing shadows around himself while moving, he would have said maybe, if it was a skill he honed and practiced for a while. In the heat of battle, however, he didn’t waste time wondering if it was viable or not. Shane simply ran for all he was worth, forcing the shadows to keep up. The result was a barrier that was nowhere near as stable or potent as the one when he stood still, but that still was able to offer some manner of protection. Given the fight he was in, Shane would take any advantage he could.
Breaking out from the corn, Shane stepped into plain view, unsurprised to find Lesley already lining up her shot. If all he did was run, she’d hit him in no time. That was why the shadows around her sprang to life once more, swinging and slicing at Lesley’s body. By this point, Shane knew he wasn’t going to land a blow with such a casual attack. No, all he wanted to do was keep her on the defensive while she aimed, splitting her attention and making those shots a little less precise. Unfortunately, it was taking a lot of mental effort to attack, defend himself, and race around the field, so he couldn’t keep this up forever either.
