by Matt Cowper
One of the techs lurched out of his seat and rushed over to Nightstriker. He quickly removed his glasses and wiped sweat from his forehead before speaking.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but you need to see this,” the tech said. “The Giftgiver is broadcasting some sort of announcement!”
“Well, he didn’t spend very long licking his wounds,” Nightstriker said. “Display it as a hologram so we all can see.”
The tech returned to his seat and tapped a few buttons, and a holographic image appeared in the air. One of Z City’s local stations was showing what was apparently a live feed of the Giftgiver. The logo in the corner of the feed told them that the Giftgiver was using YayTube to address the masses.
“The day of reckoning is at hand,” the Giftgiver said. With his mask, robes, and jabbing forefinger, he looked exactly like a religious fanatic. That wasn’t the effect he was going for, Nightstriker was certain, but someone who was unprepared and ruled by emotion usually ended up looking like a fool or a fanatic. “We have skulked in the shadows for too long, and we have suffered too much at the hands of an indifferent society – and at the hands of those false heroes called the Elites. Today we remake the world, starting with Z City! We will excise the corruption, cruelty, and baseness that is poisoning our society. You cannot stop us; we are too many, and you villains are too few. Surrender, and embrace this new order – or my Purifiers will take steps to neutralize any and all opposition. History is calling us, and we will not ignore the summons.”
The Giftgiver’s feed ended, and the news station that had been playing it moved to a breathless analysis of his words. Talking heads practically shoved each other aside in their eagerness to denounce this “anarchist.”
Most times, Nightstriker would have ignored the commentators’ hyperbole and righteous outrage. Now, though, he knew the threat was genuine, immediate, and could not be overstated.
“Purifiers, huh?” Buckshot said, spitting out a wad of chew. “So he finally has a name for this little band of Commies.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Blaze said. He formed a fireball in his right hand and stared at Anna. “Purification sounds like something right out of the Nazi Germany.”
“Sir, we’re getting reports of widespread violence in Z City,” the sweaty tech said. “These Purifiers have laid siege to city hall, apparently captured the police chief, and are again attacking the financial section of the city. Law enforcement officials as well as the superheroes who’ve responded are already overwhelmed.”
“Show us,” Nightstriker said.
Holographic images flicked through the air: explosions, civilians rushing for cover, dozens of the Purifiers overwhelming the superheroes who tried to stop them, even entire buildings crumbling to rubble. A map of Z City floated by Slab, with red dots denoting the danger zones. The larger the dot, the higher the danger. The dots covered every area of the city, from Bootheel to the Garden, and more sprang up every second – and they all were growing like tumors.
“Holy shit,” Blaze said.
“The whole city looks like it’s being blown to hell!” Metal Gal said.
Gillespie was already barking at the techs, commanding them to notify anyone – human or superhuman – capable of aiding the fight in Z City.
“So it’s begun,” Nightstriker said. “The final battle…do you understand what’s happening, Anna? The Giftgiver has let my escape and his recent defeat enrage him. He wants vengeance, and he wants it now. Is that still someone you want to follow?”
“I…I don’t know,” Anna said. “I still––”
“If you don’t want to use your powers to help us,” Nightstriker said, “can you at least tell us where you think the Giftgiver is located? Look at these reports, Anna. Look at the violence, the mayhem. He’ll destroy the city if we don’t stop him.”
“I’m sorry, Nightstriker,” Anna whispered. “But I don’t know…I just don’t know. I need time to think….”
“We don’t have time to think,” Nightstriker said. He walked over to Gillespie and leaned close so only she could hear. “We have to mobilize. Keep trying to persuade her, and keep me informed. The minute she agrees to help us, release her and send her to our location.”
“Is that wise?” Gillespie whispered back. “She could lie just to get free, and then attempt to kill everyone on the Beacon.”
“She won’t,” Nightstriker said. “She may waver and decide against helping us, but the legacy of Miasma terrifies her. Trust me, Gillespie.”
“All right,” Gillespie said, nodding. “I’d rather be down there with you all, but if you need me here, I’m here.”
“I do. Anna is too important.” He turned back to the Elites. “This is it, people. I dislike using the term ‘apocalyptic,’ but the threat Z City now faces is as dire as I’ve ever seen. We need to find the Giftgiver and take him down. Hopefully cutting off the head of the snake will cause his followers to lose heart. If it doesn’t, we’re going to have a long battle on our hands.”
“Well, how do we find the sumbitch?” Buckshot said.
“Gillespie will continue interrogating Anna and the other superhumans we’ve captured,” Nightstriker said. “If that doesn’t yield fruit, we’ll have to figure out another method, perhaps by capturing more of his people. You there! Where is the battle raging the hottest?”
“Uh, at city hall,” the sweaty tech said. “The Purifiers are still trying to capture the mayor, but various superheroes have set up a solid defense. They won’t be able to hold out for long, though, because more and more Purifiers are arriving on the scene.”
“Then we go there,” Nightstriker said, already jogging to the door. “Elites! Move out!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Blaze
Sam had never seen so many superhumans in one location. He thought their previous battles with these Purifiers had been hectic and jam-packed, but they were just minor tussles compared to the literal conflagration raging below.
City hall was under siege, and though the building had been designed by the same architects who’d designed MegaMax Prison, it was still taking a beating. Z City was a hotbed of superhuman activity, and this wasn’t the first time government buildings had been assaulted, but Sam had never seen so many chunks blown out of city hall, or so many scorch marks staining its exterior.
A courageous band of superheroes had formed a perimeter around the building, and set up on the roof. But there were so many projectiles being shot at them that they might as well have been lined up in front of a firing squad. Sam saw two heroes fall as he rushed through the sky, his fire trailing behind him. He didn’t know their names; they were probably the mostly anonymous middle-tier heroes who did a lot of the grunt work, but got little recognition.
Fire poured out of him, and he knew he was superheating the air for hundreds of yards around. He didn’t know if those two heroes were dead or not. If they weren’t dead, they’d still fallen in the line of duty, and would have serious injuries to deal with.
He’d be happy to enact vengeance for them.
He flew over to a group of Purifiers who’d taken cover behind an overturned tour bus. They stopped firing their blasts or conjuring whatever they were conjuring and gaped at him.
“It’s one of the Elites!” a woman with translucent skin said.
“Yeah, that fire guy!” a man said. He raised his hand, and red energy swirled around it. “Take him out!”
“I don’t think so,” Sam growled.
He held out his own hand, and focused all his fire into one ball – the Galileo Ball, the special attack that would blind anyone who didn’t have shielded vision. The ball grew to the size of a soccer ball, then a refrigerator, then it was almost the size of the ruined tour bus. It was the largest Galileo Ball he’d ever created, by far.
He wondered if it was powerful enough to cause true blindness, and briefly considered lessening its strength. He quickly decided against it; there were superhumans who could he
al blindness. If this group did suffer damaged vision, at least they’d be out of the fight. They could get healed up later, once they were locked up in MegaMax.
The Purifiers howled and grabbed at their eyes, and stumbled into the rubble and bus. A few fired their projectile powers, but they hit nothing but empty air or the sides of buildings.
Sam looked up and saw something large, gray, and heavy plummeting earthward. He turned off the Galileo Ball and waited – and Slab crashed down into the group, creating a sizable crater and actually causing the tour bus to bounce. Most of the Purifiers went flying, but a few must have had strength, durability, or an ability that kept them from being dislocated except by even more extreme force.
Slab was ready to dole out some extreme force, however, and he slammed his rock-fists into the few who were still standing, knocking them in various directions and through various buildings. In just a few seconds, all the Purifiers near the bus were disabled. Slab brushed off his arms and gave Sam a thumbs-up.
“That’s worked twice so far,” Slab said. “It’s a good combo. We need to think of a cool – er, hot – name for it.”
Sam grinned. “We can brainstorm all you want later, Slab. Now, though, Nightstriker wants me airborne along with Metal Gal.”
“And he wants me on the ground plowing through these punks like a steamroller,” Slab said. “Well, then, as they used to say in the olden times: fare thee well, Blaze.”
He waved and lumbered towards another group of Purifiers. They’d seen their compatriots get trounced, but they weren’t retreating. The energy-slingers began blasting Slab, but the rocky superhero just ran right through the barrage like they were pelting him with water balloons.
Sam flew towards the roof of city hall, fighting back the urge to help Slab. The guy was tough, and Nightstriker was nearby – somewhere; how their leader could sneak around in such chaos baffled Sam – and Buckshot had set up in the fifth-story window of a nearby building, and would be dropping Purifiers like clueless deer with his sniper rifle. Nightstriker had reiterated that lethal force wasn’t authorized, but as intense as Buckshot had been, Sam wouldn’t have been surprised if he slipped a few “real” bullets into the rifle’s chamber.
Up above, Metal Gal had engaged about a dozen flying Purifiers. About half had energy abilities, and a few had abilities where they basically kamikazed into their opponent like cannonballs. Two of them had bird features mixed with their human bodies, and seemed to be able to do nothing except zip about as a distraction.
Metal Gal was performing admirably, but Sam knew it would be foolish to float there and marvel at her combat prowess. This wasn’t a training session or a brawl with a handful of supervillains. More airborne Purifiers could appear at any second, and tilt the odds against Gal. Sam concentrated on his Fire Shield, making it so dense it felt like ultimatium was surrounding him, and flew directly towards one of the kamikaze Purifiers.
The kamikaze superhuman noticed him and smiled. He fired up his own red-orange protective barrier, and rushed to meet Sam’s charge. Good – he was cocky, and that would be his downfall.
They crashed into each other like two colliding meteors. A flash of heat and light filled the sky, its intensity comparable to the Galileo Ball Sam had just created. Sam felt his Fire Shield bend slightly, and panic jolted him, but then the shield sprang back into place. A shockwave ripped outward, breaking any windows that hadn’t already been broken in at least a two-block radius, and nearly knocking everyone out of the sky, including Metal Gal.
Sam floated there, unharmed, while the kamikaze superhuman hurtled down, unconscious, smoke trailing from his broken body.
One of the bird-like Purifiers swooped down and caught him. The others stared at Blaze in awe and, yes, horror. Sam didn’t know exactly how he looked, but as hot as he was, he probably looked like a shimmering flame more than a man.
“Anybody else want some?” he yelled.
No one did, it seemed, but Sam suspected they’d recover their nerve fairly quickly. He created two giant fireballs and tossed them at the Purifiers, downing five of them in an instant. Metal Gal’s blasts took out three more, and the rest wisely grabbed their unconscious comrades and retreated behind a building a few blocks away.
Metal Gal drifted over to Sam and touched him on the arm, the heat melting part of her body. “That was awesome! You’re getting more powerful all the time.”
“Thanks, babe,” Sam said.
“Oh, are we at the babe stage now?” She grinned at him, and her eyes glowed pink, and Sam could vividly remember their previous night together – then he pushed down his libidinal thoughts and focused on the city hall rooftop.
“Let’s get down there,” he said. “That one superhero is waving at us. They probably need reinforcements.”
They both flew to the rooftop, where dozens of superheroes had set up. Unlike the Purifiers, these superhumans were clad in bright spandex and sometimes elaborate masks. It looked almost ridiculous to see this many superheroes in one area, like a circus, but then Sam realized he was wearing a bright costume himself – and the superheroes were fighting with everything they had, and didn’t deserve to be mocked.
The superhero who’d waved at them jogged over. He had on a purple-and-black costume with a purple cape trailing behind him. He didn’t have the stereotypical muscular hero’s image; he was gaunt, and his long black hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a week.
He also wasn’t wearing a mask, and this surprised Sam – but as the man approached, Sam noticed cuts and bruises on his face. It looked like his mask had been ripped or blasted off during the fighting.
“Wow, the Elites!” the superhero said, looking at them like he was about to ask for their autograph. “It’s good you all are here. We’re defending city hall as best we can, but there’s so goddamn many of these crazy revolutionaries!”
“We came here because this is where the fighting is hottest,” Sam said. “But it’s bad all over the city. Have you seen the Giftgiver? If we can capture him, we might be able to snuff out this uprising.”
“I haven’t seen anything up here but flying Purifiers and energy beams,” the man replied. “No one groundside has seen anything either. If that white-robed asshole is nearby, he’s hiding like the coward he is.”
“Of course he’d hide,” Metal Gal muttered. “Well, it seems like you’ve got projectile users up here. It’s a good plan – blast away from the high ground. Are you one of the energy-slingers?”
“No, I play a different role,” the man said. “I’m here in case any of the flying insurrectionists try to land – like that one!”
One of the Purifiers had landed on the edge of the roof and was eyeing the superheroes like she’d just hit the jackpot. Neon green energy literally dripped from her thin figure; likely some sort of toxic waste or acid-type superpower.
The purple-and-black garbed superhero brushed past Sam and Metal Gal and reared back, like he was going to throw a pitch. Then his arm elongated and his fist raced towards the Purifier. The neon green superhuman’s jaw dropped, then the fist slammed into her stomach, knocking her from the rooftop and out of sight.
“Name’s Mr. Flexible,” the superhero said as his arm whipped back towards him. “I’ve got an elastic body, as you can see.”
“Nice!” Metal Gal said. “I can do stuff like that too, if I absorb enough material.”
“I know,” Mr. Flexible said. “You’re a lot more versatile than me. I mean, you can form a banging body like that. Wow!”
He ogled Metal Gal unashamedly, even extending his arm and wrapping it around her shoulder. Gal frowned, and her eyes glinted red, but Sam stepped between them, making sure his Fire Shield was nice and hot.
“She’s spoken for,” Sam said, “and you shouldn’t be flirting in the middle of a battle this serious anyway.”
Mr. Flexible quickly removed his arm from Metal Gal, and he took two big steps backwards.
“Spoken for? So you two….?” He sh
ook his head; the way it flopped around, Sam would’ve thought his neck was broken if he didn’t know about his powers. “All the good ones are taken…anyway, I apologize. We do need to focus on the fight. You know, you two would be a big help up here. Do you want to join us? You can handle pretty much anything with those fire powers, and Metal Gal can transform into a shield and protect the weaker energy-slingers, all while firing back herself.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Sam said, subsiding his Fire Shield a little, “but Nightstriker has a different plan.”
At the sound of the legendary superhero’s name, Mr. Flexible abandoned the characteristics of his name: he became as rigid as stone.
“Nightstriker?” he squeaked. “What’d he say?”
“This is where the fighting is concentrated, so it probably means the Giftgiver thinks this is the most important point in the city,” Sam said. “Taking over city hall would be a great propaganda victory for him, right? But like you said, he’s hiding, letting his foot soldiers do the work. We don’t have time to go hunting for him. So, we’re going to put up a good fight – then we’re going to give him city hall.”
“Give…him?” Mr. Flexible said. “And you say Nightstriker came up with this?”
“Think about it,” Metal Gal said. “He’ll surely come out of the woodwork if city hall comes under Purifier control. He’ll want to broadcast a message to the world gloating about his success. Once we know he’s here, we’ll resume the attack, retake the building, capture the Giftgiver, and end this.”
Mr. Flexible’s head swerved from Sam to Metal Gal. “You make it sound so easy. Suppose he ain’t even here? And do you really think we can storm this building once these nutjobs get set up in it? This place is stout. We’re holding off the enemy with limited numbers as it is. If they get in here, they’ll be able to defend it with ten times the manpower. I don’t think – hey!”
