by Nick Svolos
“Be careful out there,” I said. “Now, go get ‘em.”
“You got it,” she smiled. She leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Make sure your friend there deletes that picture.”
I whispered back, “I’m on it.”
After Herculene left to join Ultiman and Bill in the shelter of the stadium seats to our right, I returned to my post behind the wall under the press room window. “Ratna, please delete that photo you just took.”
“Aw, it’s a great shot. Human interest.”
“I know, but one of the things you’ll learn from working around these people is that you never expose their personal lives. Most of them don’t have much of one to begin with. Once you cross that line, they’ll never work with you again.”
“What about the villains?”
“They’ll just kill you.” I grinned.
She glanced down at the field, and turned back to her camera, deleting the last photo. “OK, done.” She went back to looking at the field, “So, you and Herculene, huh?”
“No, me and the woman to plays Herculene when the world needs a hero.”
“Is there a difference?” she asked.
“All the difference in the world,” I said. “That’s why you delete photos like that.”
XVI
Ratna and I tensely watched the field as the Angels maneuvered into position. Gale and Mechanista continued to stand on either side of the fifty yard line, smiling as if sharing some secret joke.
The wind began to pick up again and flowed around the pair in a counterclockwise direction. Apparently, Gale had decided to switch it up. I hoped Mentalia would notice the change in direction. I said a silent prayer for The Angels. They were down a man, and the number of their enemies had doubled. With SpeedDamon engaged with Mechanista, that left four to do what it had taken all six to accomplish before.
Ben Jefferson and his team joined us moments later. He had six Angel Security people with him, all armed and looking fresh. They joined us in the press room and the wall beneath the window got rather crowded. “What’s the situation?” Ben asked.
“The team’s getting into position. Should start soon.” I explained the plan The Angels were about to execute.
Ben nodded. “Got it.” To his team he said, “We’ll sit tight here until the fireworks start. See if there’s anything we can do to help.” He sent the team to cover the doors to the press box and huddled down to watch the scene below with me and Ratna.
“You got a containment team somewhere?” I asked. “If they manage to pull this off, you don’t want to give them time to recover again.”
“Yup, they’re down there in the tunnel.” He indicated the west arena entrance. “We were moving in to secure Gale when Suave went down. Had to pull back in a hurry. Wish we’d have had another minute before Mechgirl showed up.”
I shook my head, “You’d have never made it. This whole thing was another trap. Gale wanted the team to take her down, give Mechanista a clear shot at The Angels when they were standing around out there on the field.”
Ben gave what I said a few seconds thought. “Damn. Crenshaw’s been one step ahead of us all along. How’s she doing this?”
“Ultiman built The Angels, and she knows Ultiman. She knows all your moves.”
Ratna interrupted our conversation. “Hey, who’s that up there?” She pointed her camera up and to the left and snapped a few photos. Ben and I followed her gaze and saw six figures landing on the northwest lip of the stadium. They were all dressed in black, and had gold badges embroidered above their left breast.
“Looks like the ERD. FBI superteam. I guess Ultiman called for some backup,” Ben said.
My blood chilled. Gale was one step ahead of us again. Again, her words came back to me. “And soon, I’ll kill you and hand these wonderful bullets over to the government.” Ben was wrong. It was the ERD, but they weren’t here to help The Angels.
Before I could share my realization, I saw movement on the field. SpeedDamon, like Ben, must have taken the arrival of the ERD as a good sign, for he began zig-zagging across the field in a lime-green streak, working his way to Mechanista. The robotic Omega fired several shots, but failed to even come close to hitting the blurred speedster. On the edge of the Coliseum, the ERD took to the air and started flying toward the field. Gale’s winds started to pick up speed. Below us Ultiman, Herculene and Three Dollar Bill started running at the pair on the field, shielded by Mentalia’s projection of psychic energy. Bolts of lightning crashed down on the shield, only to be carried directly to the ground and away from the rushing trio.
“No, he didn’t.” I said. “He’s not wearing a communicator. The ERD’s here to help Gale.”
Horrified realization dawned on Ben’s face as a plan formed in my mind. A crazy plan, but the only one I could come up with that might do some good. I fumbled my phone out of my pocket and dialed a number. “Ratna, can you operate a television camera?”
She grinned with pride. “If it has a lens, I can work with it.”
Before I could continue, a voice answered my call. “Rico Chavez.”
“Rich, it’s Reuben. I’m at the Coliseum, and I need to get on the air. How’d you like to make history?”
He sounded suspicious. “I’m back on the air in sixty seconds, man, make it quick.”
Down on the field my fears were realized as the ERD revealed which side they were actually on. One of them opened with a narrow pair of ruby-colored laser beams from his eyes, which caught Ultiman and burned a line across his chest. Two more broke off from the pack and sped towards Mentalia, who was sheltering under the luxury boxes as she had during the first part of the fight. A smaller, female ERD agent shouted at Herculene and Three Dollar Bill, knocking them from their feet with a blast of sonic force. The remaining two Feds hurled themselves at the Ultiman, one of them with fists ablaze with orange fire.
There wasn’t much time, so I explained the bare minimum. “The Feds are attacking The Angels. Now, do you want the story or not?”
I could hear from his breathing that he was in motion. “Sure. Can you get to our box?”
“I’m right beside it. What’s the code?” As he told me the code, I got to my feet and started trotting toward the booth, “OK, be ready to pick up our feed in sixty.” I punched the code into the pad by the Telemundo door. The door unlocked and I went in.
“Reuben, this better be good. See you on camera,” he said as he hung up.
Ratna was close behind me as we entered the television booth. “Reuben, what the heck are we doing?”
I smiled as I started turning on the studio equipment. “We’re gonna show those bastards that the pen is mightier than the laser eye beam.” Ben joined us and I directed him to the in-studio camera that they use to show the commentators at half-time. I reached over, turned it on and checked the focus. “Just keep that focused on me. Ratna, you’re on the field camera.” I found the producer’s earpiece and stuck it in my ear. I could hear Rich and a producer arguing over our sudden change in programming. I looked out the window, ignoring the fight, and saw the Jumbotron was still displaying my earlier message about Mechanista’s position. The equipment in the scorer’s booth was still working. Outstanding.
I stuck my head out of the studio door and called one of the security men over. I pointed behind me to the scorer’s booth, “Just inside that busted door is the Jumbotron feed panel. Look for a knob labeled ‘Feed’, and switch it to ‘Telemundo Broadcast Two’. Below that is a button that says, ‘Sound Feed’. Make sure it’s lit.” The confused guard looked at Ben for confirmation, who just shrugged and nodded. The man raced down the hall.
I went back in the booth and pressed the buttons for both feeds and a handheld microphone. The producer in my ear said in Spanish, “It’s coming through now.”
I moved to a spot marked out on the floor with blue duct tape in the shape of an ‘X’, lifted the mike to chest level and said, “Can you hear me?”
The producer’s v
oice said in the earpiece, “Yes. Two video and one voice coming through clear. Rico’s introducing your piece now. On in five. Four.”
The last three beats were silent and a red light on each camera turned on. Rich’s voice came into my ear in Spanish. “We’ve just learned that the federal government is involved in a battle with The Angels. We now go live to the Los Angeles Coliseum, where Reuben Conway of the Los Angeles Beacon is standing by to tell us about the ongoing situation. Reuben, are you there?”
Behind me, on the Jumbotron and the other big screens around the stadium, my face appeared. I struggled to speak in the best high school Spanish I could. “Yes, Rico, I’m here.” My voice echoed in the stadium, competing with Gale’s storm. I continued, “I’m here at the L.A. Coliseum where the FBI’s Enhanced Response Division has just launched an unprovoked attack on the local supergroup known as The Angels. You can see the battle on the field behind me.” A monitor on the wall relayed the feeds we were sending out. “Herculene and Three Dollar Bill are engaged with two members of the ERD team, and Ultiman is holding off attacks from two more. Another two are fighting Mentalia under the luxury boxes. Mechanista is armed with a special type of bullet, developed by Galestorm Technologies. One of these bullets was used to kill Phoenix Fire at the OilCo refinery the night before last. These bullets are designed to kill otherwise invulnerable supers such as her and Ultiman. For the moment, SpeedDamon seems to be keeping Mechanista off-balance by drawing her fire.”
Rico asked, “Do you have any idea why the FBI is involved?” I could hear the excitement in his voice. He knew a good story when he saw it.
“It appears the government wants these bullets and has decided to support these supervillains to get them. The Angels were already engaged with Gale and Mechanista, attempting to stop a revenge plot that involved using these cape-killer bullets to kill Ultiman.”
“Is this connected what happened at the Angel Tower downtown earlier this morning? And are you speaking of the hero Gale that fought in the Korean War?”
I took the second question first. “Yes, Rico. Gale is still alive, and out to kill Ultiman and his team. And yes, the attack on the Angel Tower was part of the plot, but it actually began two nights ago at the Wilmington refinery.”
“My God, Reuben, we were told Omega was behind that.”
“Actually, they were patsies for Gale, possibly with the complicity of the Federal government. She hired a registered bounty hunter by the name of Longshot to plant a bomb on the storage tanks and kill Phoenix Fire with one of these cape-killer bullets. She convinced Omega to ambush The Angels as they tried to control the fire and rescue the civilians injured by the blast. Longshot is now in police custody.”
“I see. Can you tell us what’s happening in the fight?”
I turned to the window. “The situation doesn’t look good, Rico. Right now, I can see that Three Dollar Bill is down, and I think, yes, there are two ERD agents carrying Mentalia. She’s limp. I can’t tell how badly she’s hurt. Gale is hurling lightning bolts at Ultiman as he struggles to hold his own against the two agents engaging him. One of them is using sonic blasts and the other is leaping in to strike at Ultiman with flaming fists. He keeps dodging out in time for Gale to hit him with more lightning. Herculene is battling with a man who is shooting laser beams from his eyes. They appear to be stalemated, at the moment. Wait! One of the ERD agents appears to be staring at the Jumbotron.”
This is what I was hoping for. Everything hinged on getting some of the ERD agents to turn. I turned to the camera, waved and said in English, “Hi, I don’t know who you are, but you’re fighting for the wrong team, agent.”
I turned back to the fight and shifted back to Spanish. “Rico, the woman with the sonic blasts has broken off from Ultiman and is shouting something at the agent who is not taking part in the fight. She’s pointing this way. Yeah, they’re flying over here. Rico, I think we’re about to have company here in the Telemundo booth. Stand by.” I pulled the microphone away from my chest and shouted in English to the guards down the hall, “Incoming! Don’t resist, just back away and let them come in!” I said forcefully to Ben, “Make sure you get this on camera.” He nodded.
The press box shuddered as two pairs of booted feet landed heavily on the external landing. The Angel Security men ran past the studio door to take up positions in the press booth, and I heard the ERD team come down the hall. I switched back to Spanish. “Rico, we are now being joined in the broadcast booth by two members of the FBI’s Enhanced Response Division,” I said as the pair of black skinsuited agents entered through the door. They wore full facemasks to conceal their identities. The female one entered first, shouting “Shut this down. You are all under arrest!”
I immediately recognized the irate woman’s voice from the voicemail she left for me the previous morning. She was Special Agent Wells of the FBI. The Telemundo producer sussed out what I was doing and informed me that we were live on all local stations and most national networks. Ben shifted his camera to show them to the viewing public.
I had to get her off-balance, get her to make a mistake. The only weapon I had was the truth. I hated to do it, but I had no choice. For the first time in my career, I decided to break my rule about not outing people’s IDs. “Special Agent Wells, how nice to meet you,” I said in English with a broad smile. Wells jolted backward at the mention of her name. “We’re not shutting down. This is a constitutionally protected activity. Would you care to give a statement explaining your unprovoked attack on The Angels?” I gripped the microphone tight and stuck it in front of her mouth. “I don’t suppose you speak Spanish do you?” I added.
She slapped my hand away, no harder than a normal woman would, I noted. I held on to the microphone and stuck it right back in her face. “I’m sorry, Special Agent Wells, I don’t think our viewing audience heard you. Can you repeat your explanation of the actions your team has taken in support of a supervillain that your bureau put on the FBI’s Special Persons Most Wanted List yesterday?”
The woman glared at me and growled, “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, Conway, but either you shut this down, or I’ll shut it down and you along with it. Permanently.”
“Special Agent Wells, that sounds like a threat.” I smiled innocently. Time to turn up the heat. I turned back to the camera. “Rico, a super-powered official of the United States Government has just issued a threat to murder an unarmed and credentialed reporter engaged in performing his constitutionally-protected work.” I turned back to Wells, “I have to ask, are you looking for your own spot on the List?”
“You asked for it,” she said and drew in a deep breath. She screamed, and I was shoved back against the thick plastic glass by a wave of sonic force.
I dropped the microphone and tried to cover my ears, but it didn’t help much. My left ear was ablaze with spiking pain. My right was a little better, being protected by the earphone, but not by much. Ben and Ratna were spared the full force of the blast—Wells had focused it on me—but the noise had both of them doubled over and clutching their ears in pain.
My head was ablaze with agony. My eyes vibrated from the sonic force that engulfed me, and my vision began to darken. The blast pinned me against the window, and I could dimly see cracks start to form in the plastic. If she kept this up much longer, I’d be blasted out of the booth and plummet to the stadium seats below. Assuming I lived that long, I probably wouldn’t be getting up.
With what little strength I could muster, I turned my head to face my attacker. Wells continued to shout her sonic death scream, and something within me wondered if she’d ever stop to take a breath. As my vision faded, I saw the other ERD agent, standing stock-still behind Wells.
He was my only chance. Struggling against the pain and the looming darkness, I croaked, “Please, you have to stop this. You know this isn’t right.” The window behind me began to give way.
The screeching stopped. I slid down the cracked and bowed plastic window, and I saw Wel
ls fall to the ground. The man behind her had clubbed her to the ground with a pair of meaty fists in an overhand blow from behind. My right ear made out the voice of Rico competing with the ringing in my ears. “Reuben, are you alright?”
I shook my head, trying to clear it and make some room for thoughts to fight their way past the pain. “I’m alright. Can you hear me?” I said in Spanish into the microphone as I struggled to my feet. Looking to my makeshift broadcast team, I saw Ratna and Ben slowly recover and get back up. “We’re all a little banged up, but we’re fine. One of the ERD team has knocked Agent Wells unconscious.” I looked over to the ERD agent who saved us and switched back to English. “Thank you, agent.”
The man reached up with one meaty paw and removed the mask from his head. His light brown skin was hideously pockmarked and a thick, black mustache, flecked with grey, covered his upper lip. His head was bald. He was about a decade older than he was the last time I’d seen him, but I instantly recognized him.
He was Baron Guapo.
“I did what I had to do,” he said in Spanish. “I did not know about these bullets. They told me The Angels had gone rogue and started the refinery fire themselves. I knew it was a lie, but I went along with it anyway. It is not safe to refuse their orders.”
Ratna called out as she made it back to her feet, “Oh God, they’re all down.”
Baron Guapo and I went to the window in time to see Gale land a final salvo of lightning on Ultiman. He fell on his face in the center of a smoking expanse of turf, blackened by the electrical discharges that Gale brought down upon him. The rest of the Angels lay, battered and defeated, on the field. Of the remaining ERD agents, only two were standing. The wind and rain died down as Gale raised her fists to the dark sky in victory amid a cacophony of triumphant thunder and lightning. Mechanista was getting to her feet by the twenty yard line, and she strode over toward where Gale and the ERD agents stood.
Ben cursed and abandoned his camera. He grabbed his rifle and called out to his squad as he ran from the studio. I heard them run from the booth to mount a last-ditch defense of the fallen Angels.
