by C. C. Ekeke
Once they got patio seating, Quinn decided to ask Annie for Johnny’s help after they’d ordered.
Annie didn’t touch the menu, glaring across the table. “Something you forgot to tell me, friend?”
Quinn, fingering her hoop earrings, sensed hostile vibrations. “Sorry?” she asked, unnerved.
“I ping SLOCO Daily to have you cover the opening of a new winery my agency reps,” Annie stated, arms folded indignantly. “Guess what I learned?”
Quinn cringed in embarrassment. “Oooh jeez—”
Annie cocked her head to the side. “You no longer work for SLOCO Daily.”
“Annie—”
“What the actual fuck, Quinn?” Annie whisper-yelled heatedly. “They fired you after those amazing Vanguard interviews? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Quinn rubbed at her forehead and sighed wearily. “It’s complicated, sweetie.” She hadn’t told anyone outside work about her firing. Non-work friends. Her aunt and uncle. Her parents. Combined with the shame, she didn’t want anyone’s pity or judgment. Plus, besides asking for Johnny’s help, Quinn wanted Annie far away from this. But she couldn’t reveal that.
Annie’s nostrils flared. “Then simplify. And don’t ‘sweetie’ me!”
“They fired me,” Quinn admitted, with shoulders hunched. “For insubordination.”
Her eyes lifted to see Annie’s dawning comprehension. “Cause of the Titan story.” It wasn’t a question.
“SLOCO Daily won’t touch this story,” Quinn replied. Even discussing this made her blood sing. “But I’m getting close to something huge.”
“Why do you have to investigate this?” Annie demanded, louder than necessary. “Let the police handle this. Or The Vanguard?”
Quinn shook her head defiantly, jostling her thin hoop earrings. “Can’t, Annie. This story’s too important. I can’t explain it because of too many unknowns.”
Annie rolled her eyes, tugging at her ponytail. The latter was a habit whenever Annie got nervous or worried about someone. “Quinnie, I love your bravery. Above that, I love you.” She leaned over the table, squeezing her friend’s hand. “But this story cost you your job and nearly got you killed at Paragon's. For once, don’t be brave…”
Guess I’m not getting Johnny’s help… Angered, Quinn yanked her hand back. “You sound crazy.”
Annie looked stung. “If wanting you safe sounds crazy, then call me certifiable.”
“I have to finish this, Annie,” Quinn pressed. She thought her BFF understood this story's importance. “A murderer is walking free. You know that’s how I’m built.”
“I know how you’re built,” Annie exhaled in frustration, throwing a hand up. “You've clearly forgotten.”
Quinn disliked her tone. “What?”
“Hanging around these superheroes made you think you are one,” Annie snapped. “Newsflash, Quinn. You’re not!” That drew stares.
An approaching waiter wisely pivoted to another table.
“Wow…” Hurt rushed up Quinn’s chest. “Who are you to judge my choices, friend?”
“Meaning?” Annie snarled.
Quinn almost stopped herself, but pettiness overrode restraint. “How many wine bottles did you empty at Carmelo’s?”
Annie turned pale and gasped.
It was a low blow. Quinn didn’t care. “Johnny and I had to carry you back to your car. Getting that hammered on a weeknight isn’t like you.” It was her turn to interrogate. “What’s going on?”
Annie snatched up her purse, stood up, and marched for the patio’s exit.
Quinn watched her go, momentarily stunned. Other patrons' murmurs filled the silence, along with a strange far-off buzzing.
“Are you kidding?” Not to be rudely dismissed, Quinn hopped up with her purse and stormed after Annie’s longer strides down the sidewalk. “You’re walking away?”
Annie whirled around, her face contorted with hurt. “I’m trying to save you, and you call me a drunk!”
That stopped Quinn cold. “I did not…” The guilt was stifling. But she clung to her anger over Annie doubting her. “So you can bash my business, but I can’t check you on yours?” Quinn threw back, getting in Annie’s face. The distant buzzing grew nearer.
Now Annie wouldn’t even look at her. “Quinn…” Her features emptied.
“Don’t you ‘fake celeb sighting’ me to change the subject! I taught you that!” Quinn seethed.
“Quinn!” Annie grabbed Quinn and spun her around. The reporter stared, baffled at what she saw.
Then understanding struck and Quinn’s eyes went saucer-wide.
A swarm of humanoid-like androids soared across the burnt-orange skies in their direction. Actual flying androids, hence the obnoxious buzzing. Their bodies were sheathed in silvery armor, their faces expressionless save a glowing red slit across where the eyes should be.
Mistura's patrons all pointed in fascination. People on the sidewalk stopped and stared. These people had probably seen countless superhuman battles, hence the blasé reaction to a robot swarm.
Quinn’s issues with Annie were forgotten. Whatever these robots' origin or purpose, her gut lurched in fear. Grabbing Annie’s arm, Quinn dragged her alarmed friend back into Mistura. They hopped over the gate despite a waiter’s protest, and onto the patio…
Then a thick crimson beam sliced through the air, punching the sidewalk Quinn and Annie were just on with batter-ramming force. Chunks of scalded cement flew in all directions.
Screams erupted outside and inside Mistura. Quinn and Annie shrieked, dashing back inside.
Suddenly, a barrage of crimson blasts lanced down from the skies. Now everyone scrambled to get away from the attack. Quinn, all five-feet-four of her, got bowled over in the frenzied exodus.
The dozen more androids landed on the small Paso Robles street with glowing hands raised, visor slits glowing merciless red. And they discharged beams of bright death on any pedestrian or car in sight. Quinn couldn’t look away from the growing number of lifeless bodies. Some had blackened holes punched through them. Others fell in charred pieces.
Quinn went cold all over. She’d never seen death up close. In the depth of the numbness and the chaos churning around her, Quinn knew staying still meant death. She stumbled upright, searching for Annie through screams, laser blasts, and fleeing people. She quickly found her friend cowering in a corner, shrieking hysterically. “Oh my God! Oh. My God!”
Quinn shoved through the crowds with all her strength to reach Annie. “Hey.” She crouched and grasped Annie’s shoulders. “C’mon. Let’s go!”
Annie didn’t move, staring at nothing, shrieking in Spanish.
Quinn slapped her. “Giaconda Machado!” Annie recoiled, gawking back.
“You and I aren’t dying today. On your feet!” She pulled Annie upright and dragged her toward Mistura’s front entrance, where everyone else headed out of.
A stray beam cut through the restaurant’s entrance, impaling a fleeing waiter in the sternum. He flailed jerkily before slumping forward, never rising again.
More screams, including a few death shrieks. Bystanders spilled back into Mistura.
Quinn pulled Annie back. “Sooo, not that way,” she remarked dryly, glancing over her shoulder. One or two restaurant servers headed for Mistura’s rear. She whirled, pulling Annie with her. “We’ll reach our cars through the back.”
The frightened pair dashed for the back, Annie overtaking Quinn…
An explosion ripped Mistura’s rear apart. Quinn went flying. Several pained moments later, she lay face down on cold cement floor, ears ringing.
“Oww.” Groaning, she pushed up to her elbows. Head to heel, everything ached. Her hearing was slow to return as she surveyed the destroyed eatery.
Walls blown out, air clogged with smoke, furniture shattered. Sunlight kissed Quinn’s face from the restaurant’s ripped-open rear.
She clutched her throbbing skull, seeing several bodies sprawled amid the rubble. She
then found Annie.
Quinn scurried on all fours toward her motionless friend, wincing from pain stabbing up her left wrist. “Annie? You okay? We gotta move.”
Annie lay prone, covered in dust and flecks of debris. She looked asleep except for the finger of blood crawling down her forehead from her scalp. Even more troubling was the red wetness pooling on her white shirt near the stomach.
As Quinn held Annie’s face, her heart skipped a few beats. “Annie?” Her friend didn’t respond or move. Or open her eyes.
“Nonono!” The chaos around Quinn became background noise. “Wake up, Giaconda!” She cradled her best friend’s head against her chest. Unshed tears stung her eyes. “Please!” she pleaded softly.
The arrival of two shadows from the rear drew her gaze, human-shaped with thin red slits on their faces.
Quinn gasped, gently placing Annie back on the ground. The red shirt stain now colored the left side of her stomach. The androids marched toward her, stepping over bodies and debris. Terrified as she was, Quinn threw herself over Annie’s body. She was no hero, but Quinn wouldn’t let them touch her BFF.
Regardless, cold metal fingers yanked Quinn off her friend like a small infant. She thrashed and shrieked in vain. The android holding Quinn studied its prey with that unemotive glowing slit. The second android knelt over Annie, palmed her entire face, and squeezed.
“No!” Quinn wailed, reaching for her friend.
The android holding her raised its free hand, which glowed fiery crimson, about to discharge. But Quinn’s fear was for Annie alone, even as her end neared.
Suddenly, she heard several sharp objects slice through the air, followed by many loud thunks.
The android’s hand stopped glowing.
Quinn fell, landing on her bottom. She whipped around in bafflement. The human-like android stood frozen, six flechettes of dazzling light puncturing its face and torso.
Quinn stared at the second android smothering Annie. Its smooth silver head had been shredded to sparking ruins. Both androids keeled sideways and fell, destroyed.
Quinn scurried to Annie’s side, gaze locked on her fallen attackers. Soft angelic light filled the devastated restaurant. Quinn turned, recognizing this radiance.
A shapely woman stepped into view, dressed in a high-collared white costume covered in silvery religious symbols. Glowing angel wings spread out from her back.
“Seraph?” Quinn’s gratitude nearly overwhelmed her. If Seraph was here, then the Vanguard must be too. Already she heard the chaos outside Mistura waning. Then came Robbie Rocket’s roaring jet propulsion overhead, Vulcan’s fierce battle cry, Wyldcat’s yowl, and Sentinel barking orders.
“Down!” Seraph barked, all business.
Quinn ducked straightaway. The superhero swung her wings like meat cleavers. The sound of shredded metal screeched in Quinn’s ears. Behind her, another android hit the ground, bright sparks fountaining from where its head used to be.
With the danger averted, Seraph lunged forward and embraced Quinn. A hug from Seraph felt like being wrapped in pure springtime warmth. “Are you injured?” she whispered.
Quinn didn’t care about herself. She untangled from Seraph and scrambled back to Annie, who'd grown unsettlingly paler. “My friend—” she began, raw and wavering.
“Good god!” The voice drew Quinn’s focus to the smoking entrance. Morningstar filled the doorframe with her figure-hugging golden uniform. She took in the bodies with horrified eyes. “Is that you, Quinn?”
“Bauer?” Sentinel exclaimed behind her. “Quinn Bauer is here?” A rocket’s roar cut off as Robbie Rocket landed in the remains of Mistura’s rear. He tapped his flight goggles, shaking his shaggy ginger hair. “Got the last of them fuckers!” Rocket smiled seeing Quinn. “Hiya, Bauer!” he hailed, like they were friends.
Now Morningstar, Seraph, and Robbie Rocket crowded her space, asking about her condition all at once. “My friend’s hurt!” Quinn shouted over them, gesturing wildly to Annie. “Help her!”
“Let me see.” Morningstar crouched beside Quinn and shouldered her aside. Before the reporter could protest, Seraph held her still by the shoulders. Morningstar’s eyes burned eerie green, the glow washing over Annie’s body thoroughly.
“She’s alive but unconscious,” Morningstar concluded with a magnificent toss of loose golden locks. Her eyes returned to normal. “No broken bones or anything. But the puncture wound looks bad.” The superhero gestured to Annie’s stomach, the white shirt soaked in red. “Debris is lodged inside.”
Quinn’s relief was quickly drowned out by dread. “How…how do you know that?”
Morningstar’s features turned grim. “X-ray vision. Something I’ve been honing the last few weeks.” She glanced at the bodies around them and shuddered. “She needs to get to a hospital soon, though.”
Sentinel now entered in his grey military light armor and masked helmet. Quinn flinched at the towering robot trailing him, then relaxed. She knew Dynamo, Vanguard’s cobalt-blue and yellow android AI.
Sentinel took a stern assessment of Annie and glanced up at his robot teammate. “Can you move her?”
Dynamo’s emotionless red eyes bored into Annie. “Not advisable, but yes,” he stated in digitized tones.
“You get examined too,” Sentinel ordered Quinn, who didn’t protest. She wouldn’t leave Annie’s side.
Sentinel gestured to Dynamo. “Get Bauer and her friend to a hospital while we triage this area, ASAP.”
The armored android marched forward, scooped up Annie’s lifeless body in one arm and Quinn with the other, then marched out of Mistura’s front door.
Outside, Quinn no longer saw a quaint row of bistros and shops. She saw a warzone.
Dismembered and sparking bodies of sixteen more silvery androids littered the streets. The human body count appeared far higher. Outnumbering both were bystanders hurt from stray blasts, explosions, or shrapnel. Quinn spotted Wyldcat slinking around in her catlike uniform tending to the injured as the wails of ambulances loomed. She could barely look at the damage to so many Oldtown Paso shops. The superhuman disaster insurance companies were about to make another fortune. Why? Quinn wondered, a lump in her throat. Why did these androids attack here?
“Hold on.” Dynamo’s digital voice alarmed her. She looked up at beady red eyes on the android’s simple face. “We’re heading to the closest hospital.”
Quinn watched Annie sag forward in Dynamo’s iron grip. Her friend’s complexion was corpse-like.
Panic seized Quinn. She clutched her friend’s limp hand, squeezing tight. “Don’t die on me,” Quinn demanded, tears falling freely. “I need you alive.”
Moments later, Dynamo rocketed away from battle-scarred streets into darkening skies.
Chapter 26
“Can’t I just pick you up?” Hugo asked, cellphone pressed to his ear.
“I wanna look good tonight, not windblown chic,” Presley emphasized on the other end. It sounded like she was getting dressed. “The Uber says half an hour.”
“Fine,” Hugo grumbled. He preferred Presley’s normal appearance, but would respect tonight’s rare girliness. “See you soon.” After hanging up, Hugo appraised himself in a hallway mirror. Black unbuttoned vest over a thin-striped white button-down with a loose purple tie. Dark jeans and fresh sneakers for dancing. His spiky hair was perfectly tousled thanks to Grace cutting it yesterday. He grinned at his reflection. “Tonight’s gonna be so bomb.”
His eagerness increased when his hypersensitive ears caught Simon and Grace parking outside.
When Hugo opened the door, Grace entered and hugged him. “You look photoshoot fresh, G-Mama,” he commended. Grace's outfit included a mustard-yellow crop-top hoodie paired with green-and-purple sequined basketball shorts. And by her footwear, Hugo knew she’d be tearing up the dance floor. Typical Grace. Her curly locks, pulled back in an up-down hairstyle, had the top teased up.
She looked at Hugo, then Simon behind her in a near-identica
l vest/button-down combo. “Twinning?” Grace stated. “Which of us is your date, Simon?”
Simon scowled. “Don’t be hating our friendship goals.” He and Hugo high-fived, low-fived, then military saluted each other.
Grace shook her head. “You two are such dorks,” she teased lovingly.
As the trio conversed, Hugo's fear of Presley no-showing swelled. It’s happened to me before.
Then he heard the rideshare pull up, and all those fears vanished. Hugo opened the door and felt like someone had dropkicked him in the face. Presley wore a black strapless corset, accentuating the cleavage, the tutu displaying some killer legs. Her makeup, which she rarely wore, was Goth-chic but sexy. Presley’s short, choppy hair was lacquered down on the sides, the top teased straight up in a kiss curl streaked with fiery red. Hugo noticed and promptly shut his open mouth.
Presley beamed at his reaction. “Guess I don’t need to ask how I look.”
Hugo scooped her up with one arm. “You look amazing.” He gave Presley a slow, sloppy kiss. She responded eagerly, arms and legs wrapping around him. Everything he could’ve ever wanted.
“Kissing a random before introducing her?” Simon scolded. “Rude.”
Hugo placed Presley down, unable to stop smiling. “Sorry.” Giddy and nervous, he introduced Presley to his snickering friends and younger brother. Two worlds colliding. He’d warned Presley beforehand that Grace didn’t know he was a super. After AJ took pictures, the quartet headed to Simon’s car.
“Let’s make some memories!” Simon crowed.
“Hang on.” Presley stopped, gesturing at Grace. “Are those sequined basketball shorts?”
Grace nodded proudly. “Designed them myself.”
Presley gave her a lingering onceover, draping an arm around the girl's shoulders. “Find another date, Hugo. I want her.”
Grace arched a seductive eyebrow. “Hey, girl…”
“Hands off my G-Mama!” Simon interjected before entering the driver’s seat.
