by Lucas Flint
“No,” said Sagan, who had ceased speaking telepathically. “How is this possible? I thought you were just a weak little boy, yet somehow my mental attacks don’t hurt you at all anymore.”
Slowly rising to his feet, Beams had no answer for Sagan’s questions. All he could tell was that his mind was stronger than ever and that the alien force which filled his being made him feel as if he had just taken a refreshing cold shower.
“I’ll just increase the severity of the attacks,” said Sagan. “You thought I was going all out before? Then take this!”
Beams felt the intensity of Sagan’s mental powers increase tenfold, twentyfold, even a hundredfold, but for all the good that it did it might as well have been nothing. Again in his mind’s eyes, he could see Sagan shooting his big wall with a squirt gun, doing nothing more than wasting his time and making himself look like a fool.
Maybe it’s time for me to push back, Beams thought out of nowhere, the thought appearing to come both from within himself and without.
Taking a step forward, Beams held out a hand toward Sagan. Sagan suddenly cried out in pain and would have fallen over if O’Brian hadn’t caught him. Blood began oozing out of his nose and the President suddenly looked like he was on death’s doorstep.
“Sagan!” said O’Brian in a concerned tone. “What happened? Your nose …”
“I … I am not sure,” said Sagan. He sounded like he had just been stabbed in the chest. “I didn’t think the boy was a telepath as well, but somehow he pushed back against me.”
Beams cracked a smile as the answer came to him. “This isn’t telepathy, Mr. President. This is the power of the Dread God. And all who stand against the Dread God shall perish.”
Without further ado, Beams held out a hand and snapped his fingers. This time, he hit O’Brian as well as Sagan. O’Brian instantly died. He could feel her mind turn into nothing, but Sagan somehow managed to hang on. O’Brian’s body collapsed, as did Sagan, but Sagan managed to break his fall with his hands, though he was unable to stand. His nostrils were bleeding more furiously than ever, while more bleed leaked out of his eyes and even tear ducts as Beams’ mental assault tore through his own mental defenses like butter.
Dimly, Beams was aware that this attack had finally broken Sagan’s hold over the crowd and that the people had gone back to rioting, but he didn’t care. He just marched up to Sagan, who was grabbing a chair for support. But Beams kicked the chair away and, grabbing Sagan by the collar of his shirt, lifted him up off his feet and stared at the old man’s wizened face.
“Game over, Sagan,” said Beams. His eyes began crackling with charged energy. “Time for you to die.”
Before Beams could unleash his energy blast at Sagan’s face, however, he felt a sucking force behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Beams saw a dimensional portal had opened up behind him and was coming toward him fast. He dropped Sagan and tried to run, but the portal washed over him and for a moment Beams could not tell where he was.
In the next instant, Beams staggered out of another portal onto the other side of the stage. Blinking rapidly, Beams saw that he was still in Times Square, though the portal had teleported him to the opposite side of the stage. He wondered where the portal had come from before he noticed Hopper standing on the stage again, blood trickling down the edge of his mouth from where Beams had kicked him, pointing a gun at White Lightning’s head.
“You little bigot,” Hopper snarled. “You tried to kill our glorious leader, our great president, but I stopped you at the last second.”
“Only delayed the inevitable, man,” said Beams, taking a step forward.
But then Hopper drew the gun out from behind his back and aimed it point blank at White Lightning’s head. “One more step and your fellow Dissident gets it.”
Beams paused. His eyes darted from Hopper to White Lightning and back again. He could tell that Hopper was serious, willing to kill White Lightning if Beams moved any closer.
“Put the gun down,” said Beams. “Put it down now or else.”
“You’re not faster than me,” said Hopper. “My finger is already on the trigger. Even if you attack me now, I’ll pull the trigger and take White Lightning with me. What will you accomplish then, huh? Nothing, that’s what.”
As much as Beams hated to admit it, Hopper had a point. He had charged the stage solely to save White Lightning. Of course, he had also tried to kill Sagan, but that wasn’t happening right away. He cursed himself for not killing Hopper with his earlier blow, but he had no reason to believe that Hopper would have survived that attack.
Doesn’t matter, Beams thought. Unless I do something quick, White is going to die.
“Surrender and I’ll spare the boy,” said Hopper. “You’re clearly someone in need of reeducation. Or maybe execution. I still haven’t figured out what we should do with you, but it will be painful either way, as it should be.”
Beams gritted his teeth. He could shoot Hopper from here with his lasers or maybe hit him with another mental attack fueled by the Dread God’s power (which was something he’d have to examine later after he got out of this mess). But he knew that regardless of how he attacked, Hopper would just pull the trigger and kill White Lightning. It was a no-win situation as far as Beams could tell and he hated being in these situations.
“You’re awfully quiet for a bigot who nearly killed the President,” said Hopper. “Not that I blame you, because this isn’t an easy situation to get out of. But that’s exactly the point. The more difficult things are—”
Hopper never got to finish his sentence. He just abruptly stopped speaking. His breathing froze and his eyes were briefly wide before all of the light in them went away, leaving lifeless eyeballs that creeped Beams out.
Then, before Beams’ startled eyes, Hopper’s body began to disintegrate into dust, starting from his head and making its way down his body. His gun fell to the stage floor as soon as his hand disintegrated, and in seconds there was a small pile of dust where Hopper had been standing mere moments before.
Standing behind the dust, her face terrified and her hand held out, was Lauren. She was panting and sweating, her eyes wild with anxiety.
“Lauren?” said Beams in astonishment. “Did you kill Hopper?”
Lauren nodded shakily. “Y-Yeah. You know what my power can do. One touch and the person dies. Hopper didn’t even hear me come up behind him.”
Beams could not help but smile. “I thought you might have gotten caught in the riots! Did you follow me after all?”
“Not at first,” said Lauren. “Almost got trampled under all of the people. Just barely managed to get up here when I saw you were alone. Thought you needed help.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here anyway,” said Beams. He pointed at White Lightning. “Free White from his shackles. I’m going to finish off Sagan.”
Lauren nodded and bent beside White, putting her hand on his shackles, while Beams looked over at where Sagan still lay on the stage. He took a step toward Sagan, energy charging in his eyes again, but before he could take another step, he heard a gunshot go off somewhere very close by and then felt something hot and burning slam into his back and through his chest.
Gasping for breath, Beams looked down at his chest. A bloody bullet hole glistened under the lights on the stage and Beams realized that he had been shot, likely by one of the guards. He glanced over his shoulder and saw one of the guards he had knocked over earlier standing not too far away, pointing his gun at Beams with shaking hands.
That was the last thing Beams saw before darkness claimed his vision and he fell onto the stage, losing consciousness just before his head hit the ground.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bolt crouched low in the shadows outside of Sasha’s mansion. He didn’t need to crouch because Shade’s shadow powers hid the two of them very well, but he did it anyway out of habit. Sasha’s guards had already passed them by several times, not even glancing at them despite clearly being fully awake and
aware of their surroundings. It was an odd thing, watching large, heavily armed men who clearly had a lot of combat experience just walk past them like they weren’t even there.
I knew Shade’s powers were useful for sneaking around, but I never realized just how effective they were until today, Bolt thought, glancing at Shade.
Shade herself seemed perfectly at ease, though he noticed she was fidgeting with her hair. Not surprising. The two of them had been waiting outside of the gates of Sasha’s mansion for what seemed like ages, waiting for Greta to open the gates from the inside and let them in. Earlier, Greta had sneaked into Sasha’s mansion with the intention of briefly disabling the mansion’s security systems long enough for the two of them to break in. It seemed like a waste to Bolt, who thought that Shade’s shadow travel powers ought to be more than enough to get them inside.
But Shade had insisted that it was too dangerous to simply shadow travel into the mansion because she was unfamiliar with the mansion’s layout and was afraid they might end up in the wrong place. There was also the mansion’s security systems to take into account. While Sasha’s mansion was probably less secure than Monsoon’s mansion, the fact was that Sasha was just as rich as Monsoon and twice as paranoid about her safety, which meant that Greta, who was already familiar with Sasha’s mansion due to previous visits, had to disable her security systems to ensure the mission’s success.
The plan was simple enough, as plans tended to be. According to the intel which Greta had gathered, Sasha typically kept her laptop in a vault in her room. Sasha was actually in the mansion tonight, having apparently just returned from her trip to the Elastic Cave, but Greta had learned that Sasha also had her nephew, Michael, visiting and the two of them were watching a movie in the living room downstairs. That meant that Sasha’s room, which was on the third floor of the mansion, was completely empty and likely unguarded save for whatever automated security systems the mansion had, which would make it easy for the three of them to break into the mansion and get the laptop once Greta did her job.
“Don’t let yourself get too cocky,” Monsoon had told them before they left his mansion a little over an hour ago. “Sasha Munroe is a cunning and dangerous woman. She can be shortsighted at times, but she is no idiot and you would be foolish to underestimate her.”
Bolt had no trouble believing that when he remembered how Sasha had ordered Rubberman to kill them back in the Elastic Cave. He didn’t think it was likely they would find themselves in a situation like that again here, but there was no telling with that woman, and in any case, Bolt’s own past experience dealing with various supervillains and criminals was that it was never wise to underestimate them no matter how dumb or arrogant they seemed.
I miss my earcom, Bolt thought, feeling the hearing device in his right ear, though if Monsoon is right, then this earphone should keep us in contact with Greta.
“I’m bored,” said Shade suddenly, causing Bolt to look at her.
“What?”
“I’m bored,” said Shade again. She glanced up at the massive mansion towering over them. “What’s taking Greta so long? She’s supposed to be good at sneaking around, isn’t she?”
“About as good as you, I guess,” said Bolt with a shrug.
Shade’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, I’m actually quite good at my job. I’m one of the G-Men’s best spies, second to none. It’s why Cadmus trusts me so much.”
“Cadmus always seems exasperated about you whenever I see him with you,” said Bolt.
Shade grinned unexpectedly. “That’s just Cadmus being Cadmus. He can be a little too high strung sometimes if you ask me. I just like to lighten things up a bit. Not everything needs to be super serious, not even super serious government work.”
Bolt raised an eyebrow. “The girl who can control darkness is talking about lightening things up a bit?”
Shade rolled her eyes. “Ha, ha, very funny.”
“It wasn’t a—” Bolt was interrupted by a shrill ringing sound in his ear, causing him to tap his earphone instinctively.
“Hey!” said Greta’s voice through his earphone, her voice unusually loud. “This is Greta. Can you guys hear me?”
“Yes, we can,” said Bolt, flinching slightly at the volume of her voice. “How do you turn the volume down on this thing?”
“Volume?” said Greta. “Don’t know. Of course, these earphones are prototypes and I seem to remember Mr. Monsoon mentioning something about them having volume issues reported by some of the testers, but I’m sure we can figure that out later.”
Easy for you to say, Bolt thought, but aloud he said, “Are you in?”
“Yep,” said Greta. “I’m in the mansion’s fourth bathroom.”
“Sasha’s mansion has four bathrooms?” said Shade in amazement. “Why does she need so many?”
“Actually, it has six, plus a secret seventh one that I think no one is supposed to know about for some reason,” said Greta. “Not as impressive as Mr. Monsoon’s mansion, though, which has eight.”
Is this what the rich spend their money on? Bolt thought. Installing an unnecessary number of bathrooms into their mansions? Does money make you obsessed with bathrooms or something?
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” said Greta. “Everything is clear, as far as I can tell. I’ve managed to briefly disable most of the mansion’s security, so you guys should be able to sneak in without being detected.”
“Briefly?” said Bolt. “Why not disable it forever?”
“Because that would just arouse the suspicions of the guards,” said Greta. “On the other hand, if we disable it for just a couple of minutes, they’ll probably just write it off as a minor glitch, not worth investigating or thinking too much about. It’s a trick my dad taught me when he was still alive and it’s really effective for sneaking into highly-protected places like Sasha’s mansion.”
“You’ll have to teach me that trick sometime,” said Shade. “Might be helpful.”
“Oh, sure,” said Greta brightly. “It’s pretty easy to do. You just need a basic understanding of hacking and—”
“Girls, you can exchange makeup tips later,” said Bolt, interrupting Greta. “Thanks for the update, Greta. We’ll meet you in Sasha’s room later.”
“Sure thing, Bolt,” said Greta. “And please try to remember the volume problem with the earphones. That way, we can tell Mr. Monsoon about it and he can relay this information back to McCoy Robotics’ R&D team.”
“Sure,” said Bolt, tapping the earphone and cutting it off. He looked at Shade. “Ready?”
Shade nodded. “Of course.”
Shade pressed her hands on the ground. A pillar of shadow rose from the ground, raising them both off the ground to the top of the walls surrounding Sasha’s mansion. Bolt grabbed Shade and flew them over the top of the wall, Shade still using her shadow powers to keep them hidden. They were heading toward the uppermost right window, which, according to Greta’s information, was the window to Sasha’s room. They landed on the balcony outside of it and Bolt let go of Shade, who walked up to the glass doors separating the balcony from Sasha’s room and paused before them, studying them with her hand resting on her chin.
“Are they locked?” said Bolt as he walked up beside Shade.
Shade shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I was just trying to make sure they weren’t booby-trapped or something like that. Sasha seems like the kind of woman who would take all sorts of strange precautions to make sure no one could break into her room and steal her stuff. Reminds me of this Saudi prince whose palace I once had to break into on a mission for the US government.”
Bolt frowned. “I didn’t know the G-Men went on foreign missions. I thought you guys just handled domestic stuff.”
“Typically we do, but every now and then the feds need us to go to some Third World hellhole and do something there,” said Shade. “Ask Cadmus about his adventures in Zimbabwe. Or don’t, because he’ll probably kill you if you do.”
Bolt w
ondered briefly why the US government would feel the need to send Cadmus to Zimbabwe, of all places, but pushed that thought out of his mind for now. “Let’s just get the laptop and leave. We don’t have much time to sit around and talk.”
Shade nodded and pushed open the glass doors. They opened silently on well-oiled hinges and the two of them stepped inside and looked around Sasha’s room upon entering.
Unlike Shade, Bolt did not have night vision, but thanks to the bright lights outside, he could see the room well enough. It was a large and ornate room, much fancier than Monsoon’s, though unlike Monsoon’s, it was not divided between an office and a bedroom. A massive four poster bed with lush purple blankets and soft pink pillows stood in the center of the room, while the walls were painted a shiny white and covered with pictures. They looked an awful lot like family photos to Bolt. One of them showed a very young-looking black girl who had to be no older than six sitting in a wagon and smiling, while another showed a teenage black girl wearing graduation robes standing under the arm of a middle-aged black man who looked like her father. There was also a large photo of a black family, with Sasha standing out due to her distinctive blue pantsuit.
“Family pictures,” said Bolt in surprise. “Sasha didn’t strike me as a family woman.”
“Guess she must be the family matriarch or something,” said Shade. “Or maybe she just likes to think she is. In any case, we didn’t come here to look at family pictures. We came here to break a vault. Where is it?”
That was a good question. A cursory look around the room showed no obvious location of a vault. Wherever the vault containing Sasha’s laptop was, Bolt bet it was well-hidden.
“Maybe it’s behind one of the pictures,” said Bolt. “Like in the movies.”
“Life isn’t a movie, Bolt,” said Shade, “but I guess they’re worth checking out. I’ll look under the bed and behind the dresser while you check out the pictures.”
