Blackjack Wayward (The Blackjack Series) (48 page)

“FTL, is that you?” I asked, moving closer to the lip and looking for him, hoping he wouldn’t make a move to give us away. FTL’s phosphorescent armor hid his face, so no one would know what he was doing, but at the moment, he was looking around and drawing too much attention.

“Who is this?”

“I’m a friend. I’m here with Superdynamic and some others,” I said. “By the way, stop looking around so much, okay?”

“Klavess, nausca!” he exclaimed in a language that would be more at home on Shard World than here on Earth. “I need to know who this is.”

I moved away, hiding under the huge shadow cast by the first mecha. A large bonfire illuminated the area, casting a flickering light near me so I turned my back to the mecha and slowly inched around one of the massive legs.

“I can’t tell you right now,” I said, knowing I couldn’t admit I was Blackjack to a dude I had fought twice before. He was a newcomer on the super scene, so I couldn’t expect him to have heard the true story from Apogee, or to understand that things had changed, that I was on the same team now.

“That’s not good enough,” he said.

“I’m right here. Up top with all the villains. I’m moving toward Zundergrub. Do you believe me now?”

“I can’t pinpoint your location. What kind of scrambling are you using?”

I stopped beside a bunch of people near the bonfire, taking a moment to pause. Someone thrust a pitcher of beer in my hand, and I took a long swig. The cold, effervescent fluid felt like a splash of water on a hot summer day. A woman walked up to me, a villainess I couldn’t recognize, and beckoned for me to return the pitcher. I handed it to her, not realizing I had almost drunk the whole thing.

“Thanks,” I said.

“I know you, right?” she asked, with a heavy drunken slur her voice.

“I’m the White Knight,” I said, borrowing the name Dr. Retcon had used for me. “What’s your name, baby?”

She smiled, drinking the beer, and came closer.

“Hundred a fuck, fifty a blow. You wanna party?” the villainess said, sliding into my arms. She was just attractive and trashy enough to capture my attention.

“Who is that?” FTL asked, and only then did I realize I was on open comms with him.

“Sorry, Angel. I got an appointment with the big man,” I joked to FTL, slipping out of the woman’s grasp.

“Faggot,” she said.

“Not sure who that was,” I told FTL. “I’m under the first mecha, I said. I’m about to come to the lip, dude in a black shirt and a white blanket on my head. Kinda hard to miss.”

I inched over, walking past a group of people sitting around a hookah, and came as close to the edge of the pit as I dared. I didn’t look down; in fact, I kept my attention on the folks in the hookah circle, apologizing as I carefully walked over them.

“I see you,” he said.

“Okay, here’s the plan. I’m going to walk up to Zundergrub and throw him down to you. You catch his ass and hold him hostage until he releases the others.”

“I don’t like your plan.”

I laughed. “I bet you don’t.”

“It’s an incredibly nearsighted plan. There are too many villains and soldiers around, what’s to stop them from killing you?”

Moving past the circle, I walked in a direction away from the pit, away from Zundergrub in the hopes to come around the second mecha, from behind the doctor. He was about twenty feet from the farthest leg of the second mecha. A hollow feeling settling in the pit of my stomach and a pang at the back of my throat as I neared him, knowing that if I could get close enough to him, this fight might be over in the time it would take me to throw him down to FTL.

“It will work,” I said in a vain attempt to sound confident. Zundergrub was surrounded by a cadre of supers, the two mecha, and his red demon monster. FTL had every reason to doubt I was going to get close.

“Perhaps.”

I looked up at the eighty-foot mecha. “Have a little faith.”

I wiped the sweat from my brow as I approached the nearest leg. The robotic creation was standing beside another large bonfire where some villains played music while others danced. From the smell of marijuana, I could tell most of this group of villains was having a good time. Most of them wouldn’t notice my assault on Zundergrub until it was too late.

I slipped past a nuzzling couple, pondering the dichotomy of the college-like parties surrounding a concentration camp reminiscent of the Third Reich.

Ironically enough, the area right behind where Zundergrub stood was rather sparse. Near him was the defensive throng, and farther away were twenty or so villains at the campfire, two small groups of villains, and one group of a half-dozen soldiers. But there was a dead zone between Zundergrub and the rest, probably because someone had parked a pair of mecha so close.

I swallowed hard, knowing that the plan might be stupid, but maybe it was simple enough to work.

“Spread the word down there,” I said, hoping he was still listening. “Make sure Coach, Nitronic, and Brimstone Bobby are on the ball,” I said, mentioning the three most powerful supers Superdynamic had identified. Coach in particular could turn the tide with her mind control powers. It made no sense that she was captive. Nitronic had phasing speed powers and could devastate the mecha by himself, and Brimstone Bobby, while a bit unpredictable, could level ten villains with every one of his lava blasts.

“Okay, give me a moment,” he said, and I casually strolled across the legs. I was close enough and the crowd here was sparse enough that I had to move slowly, pretending as if I had to take a leak to make the distance between the mecha’s huge legs. I was behind the nearer leg of the closest mecha to the doctor. The only thing that stood between me and Zundergrub was his personal guard. A group of villains moved into the shadow of the red demon, including anthropomorphic fox and badger supers who were tormenting a young hero I couldn’t identify. The sad fellow had his hands tied behind his back, reeling in pain as the furry villains stabbed at his arms and legs with their claws. I felt like going over there and smashing furry heads together, helping the kid out, but I would make a commotion too close to Zundergrub. I’d get caught in a second.

“Stranger, are you still there?” FTL came back.

“I’m here,” I said, making sure to talk softly enough that no one could hear me.

“We’re ready,” he said. “Coach has a few of the villains under her control already, so be careful with your distraction.”

Someone grabbed me from behind and ripped my makeshift mask off. I turned to see the American Indian villain standing there, a tomahawk in hand.

“I knew it,” he said, rearing back the weapon, his attack drawing the attention of the fox and badger villains.

I didn’t hesitate, dodging the attack by dipping my body left and letting the blow swing past. I countered with a left hook that caught him under the chin. I was careful to check my strength, fearful that my blow would decapitate him, but the Indian was a tough bastard, big and strong. He spun with the force of my punch, slamming the tomahawk against the side of my face.

I clenched my teeth from the painful blow and reached forward, grabbing the bead straps on his arm and slamming my face into his. His face exploded in blood, the blow knocking him unconscious in my grasp. I let him slip to the floor, but the damage was done. I’d been spotted. The stocky badger snarled at me, moving in my direction, with his fox buddy in tow. If Zundergrub’s defensive retinue heard the commotion, I was done for.

I hurried, turning my back on the badger and peering around the edge of the mecha leg, hoping that no one had noticed. One of his goons was looking in the general direction of the ruckus, but hadn’t warned the others. This was my chance. I made my move, walking right at him.

I could hear the badger behind me, growling, shuffling, coming closer, as I walked to the first of Zundergrub’s guards. He was Asian, with the wide shoulders and rotund frame of a sumo wrestler and the matching Chonmage hairstyle. He didn’t recognize me, which was a blessing; he came at me with the false belief that he could stop me alone.

“You can’t be here,” sumo guy said.

“You make sure you catch him,” I said to FTL.

“Make sure your throw is accurate,” he replied.

The goon grumbled something in Japanese, with a low, guttural growl, and as a response, I slammed my two fingers, Three Stooges-style, right into his eyes, grabbing his mouth to muffle the painful groan. I then dug my knee into his bountiful stomach and threw him behind me at the badger villain. The anthropomorphic man-creature dodged the sumo wrestler with ease, but it did delay him long enough for me to turn on the next goon.

There were ten or twelve left, spread out so I only had a couple of them directly between me and Zundergrub. Another one felt the commotion and turned, but he was off to the side so I ignored him, moving to the next guy, a seven-footer with broad shoulders. I drove my foot into the back of his right knee and grabbed his face, spinning him backward. Again his scream was somewhat muffled, but he was so close to the others that they were warned.

Everyone turned on me.

I shoved the groaning man into the next nearest defender, toppling both. Ahead of me a huge guy readied a punch, but someone else tagged me from behind, shoving me into him. I grabbed his shoulders and hurled him aside, making a small gap appear, just enough for me to squeeze through.

“Here I go,” I said, pushing through, despite ripping threads of my T-shirt as someone else tried to restrain me.

I shoved against the last two goons, pushing both aside and standing right behind Zundergrub. I could see FTL below, looking up and ready for my move. All I had to do was grab the old man and throw him down there.

It was all ready, the plan had worked, we were going to win. With the doctor in the pit, FTL would have enough to make most villains surrender, and with my distraction, they could turn a leaderless flock of villains into a routed horde.

Racing closer to the doctor, I felt time slow, like the reverse of a Cool Hand bubble, and felt the heavy pounding of my heart resounding against my ribcage. Behind me was mass of humanity grasping and clawing at me. I had no time to waste; in moments I’d be restrained and the plan would be shot to hell.

I made it to the doctor and was looking at the back of his bald head, close enough that I discern the spattering of liver spots, a sprinkle of dandruff flecks. Close enough to feel an onslaught of memories flood forth from the back of my mind. I saw fleeting images of Cool Hand’s last moments, Apogee blood-soaked, near death, Dr. Walsh’s chest exploding outward and her father’s madness almost ending the world. As the flashback washed over me, I felt a broiling conflagration well inside me. I clenched my teeth, straining against their roots and brought my arms around his neck, putting him in a headlock. Zundergrub gasped, unable to breathe, and his fingers clawed at my arms. Without another word, I did what I had to do.

I broke his neck.

Chapter Forty

He twitched twice, and was limp.

I turned him around, hoping that he would see me in his last fading moments, that he would know who had killed him. I wanted to see an expression of shock and disgust, hoping he would see the satisfaction on my face, but his eyes were already losing their sheen, his mouth was agape and drooling.

He was gone.

It didn’t matter if he knew. Zundergrub would go to the afterlife ignorant that I was his killer, that I had travelled across the whole world, from the pits of hell itself, to find and kill him. It didn’t matter anymore. He was dead, once and for all, and nothing else mattered.

“Zundergrub is dead!” I yelled, lifting his body in the air and hurling him at FTL below. Someone grabbed me from behind, but a rearward elbow sent the person reeling. I expected more resistance, a wave of bodies to wash over me, as his guard exacted their revenge, but other than the one guy, no one attacked me. Instead, an ill silence spread across the place.

“He’s dead!” I yelled, a teary ebullience overtaking me, forcing my voice an octave too high. “Zundergrub is dead!”

I shot a glance behind me, at the guard, and saw a few of them rushing at me, fighting to get through most of the others, who just stared at me in confusion. Most others just glared at me, stupefied and glassy-eyed from as far as the other edge of the pit, wondering where they were and what they were doing.

Then it hit me: some of these villains were Zundergrub’s thralls, victims of his mind-control powers. In my estimation, half the villains were under his control. The rest were genuine followers, too crazy or stupid to know that Zundergrub meant to end the world, or too foolish to care.

The willing participants were bereft of a leader, and had a target for their growing anger and frustration.

Me.

Before I could take my next breath, they swarmed me. Hands clutched and tore at my clothing, fingers stabbed at my face. In the fraction of a second I had, I scanned the edge of the pit and saw the shocked faces of everyone who wasn’t too high or drunk to notice. I had killed their leader, decapitated the snake, but the fight was only beginning. FTL, to his credit, caught Zundergrub and pretended to hold him hostage, as he and the rest of the heroes struck hard. Nitronic, as I had expected, took to the air and rammed into one of the mecha, toppling the thing onto a host of villains. Those who could scattered, but many were caught under the thousand-ton behemoth. Coach was also ready, firing a dozen visible silver threads from her cranium at the villains she had managed to take over before I killed Zundergrub. These puppets turned on their friends, making things even more confusing. Brimstone Bob also sprung to action, firing off lava-borne volcanic rocks at the biggest congregations of villains. Others jumped or flew out of the pit, ready for action, including Doppler, Carbide, and Silverstone, who charged me.

I saw them coming, but there was nothing I could do as a wave of flesh overtook me, toppling me to the ground. It reminded me of Hashima Island, at the very end, when I had broken the walls down and surrendered to the heroes. These were the believers, the inner core of Zundergrub’s army. Through the crowd, I saw Doppler hover toward us and fire his convection waves at the whole bunch, compressing time and space, and pulling all of us toward him. A few villains fell into the pit, unable to combat Doppler’s attractive powers, only to be surrounded by non-flyer heroes and pounded to a pulp. Carbide charged in, unaffected by Doppler’s power, slashing at us with his diamond-hardened karate chops. He kicked me in the face, knocking me back with surprising strength, and moved toward the next target, at ease in the role of skirmisher, striking at everyone at once. Silverstone rose in the air like Doppler, spreading her arms wide and unleashing a hailstorm of crystalline jagged shards that tore into the host of enemies. We were caught in the midst of two competing forces, between Doppler’s power tugging us toward the pit, and Silverstone’s pressing storm, ripping at flesh and clothing, pushing us away. The combination was a gut-wrenching push and pull, and more than one villain emptied their stomachs, clawing at the pavement or each other to fight the effect, screaming in agony as the torturers had the tables turned on them.

The second mecha stitched the area around us with a fusillade of small rockets, a thousand tiny explosions tearing into our horrible reality. Doppler saw it coming and threw a defensive shield around himself and Silverstone, but Carbide, along with several of the villains around me, caught the brunt of the blasts.

Freed of the hero’s effect, I rushed the mecha, jumping over the corpses of villains who only moments ago had been crushing me underfoot. I also ran past Carbide, his body torn to pieces. The mecha pilots saw me and fired an auto-cannon, but I was beneath it before it could track my position. One of its huge legs rose, bending at the knee, the foot large enough to cast me into darkness, but that was just what I wanted. I caught the downward stomp, feeling the force of the blow push me down and cracking a deep pit into the pavement. I lifted upward against straining servos and motors, spinning the leg at an odd angle, forcing the whole mecha to lose its balance.

I tried man-handling the thing onto the largest clump of villains possible, but by now most were scrambling, avoiding the fight altogether or running for their lives. Only the crazies were fighting. The mecha was too heavy for me to maneuver, and as it swung around with its hip pivot grinding metal on metal, the momentum carried it onto the other fallen mecha. It crashed to the ground in an ear-jarring symphony of mangled metal, causing a minor earthquake and raising a cloud of dust and debris.

I looked around for another target, but most of Zundergrub’s heavy guard were dead or pinned, as Silverstone’s power worked through Doppler’s shield. They stayed close to each other, the perfect combination of offense and defense, the shield able to deflect every bullet or missile shot in their direction while Silverstone’s hail crippled or suppressed all but the toughest foes.

Unfortunately, I was one of the few standing people in their near vicinity, and she made sure that her pelting rocks and shards caught me. My skin was tough enough to withstand the assault, but I cringed at the raw ferocity.

The last of Zundergrub’s guards, a guy so big he dwarfed me, was unaffected by the crystal hail. He grabbed me from behind and threw me. I flew through the air, slamming into the leg of one of the fallen mecha, spinning twice in the air and crashing against an overturned vehicle.

The goon jumped the distance, landing next to me and helping me up, rearing back for a bone-crunching haymaker. I tried to dodge, but the shot caught me in the right shoulder, slamming me back into the crumpled car. I swung out, using the momentum that pushed me forward after the impact to strengthen my blow, but the big guy was a good fighter. He slipped left of my right cross and punched me in the temple so hard I almost faded out. In that moment’s confusion, he picked me up, much like I had Zundergrub a moment before, and threw me into the wreckage of the two mecha. I slammed into the heavy armor, leaving a deep indentation, but the momentum swung me over the wreckage and back almost to the same spot where I had killed the doctor.

I started to get up, but Silverstone saw me and dropped a jagged hailstorm on me, forcing me to protect my face. The big guy jumped atop the mecha’s midsection and saw his advantage. He swung his arms out, readying another jump that would bring his whole weight down on me.

Then I noticed a silver thread trailing from the back of his head. He was one of Coach’s puppets.

“Wait!” I said, but the goon jumped anyway. I rolled away, barely missing the stomp, and came to my feet.

“Coach, it’s me....” I said, trailing off, not knowing how to identify myself. To tell her I was Blackjack would earn me no favors.

The goon moved forward, ripping off the remnants of his shirt and jacket and clenching his fists tight, walking through Silverstone’s hailstorm without a care.

“I’m the guy that was helping FTL!” I said, backpedaling away, but I ran into something, and before I could turn around, I realized I was in a full nelson lock.

It was the Indian villain, and he was strong enough to hold me. Nothing I could do would ever break his hold on me.

“Kill him,” my captor told the goon. The Indian was fighting my efforts to get free and holding me up at the same time to give the goon a sweet target to get a good blow in.

The goon came forward and paused, though his face was utterly expressionless. He looked at me, then the Indian.

“He killed Zundergrub, take his fucking head off,” the Indian said.

The big guy reared back, putting everything into the blow. I couldn’t get out of the lock despite my massive strength, nor could I twist in any way to avert the incoming shot. I just closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, and hoped I’d get a chance to return the favor.

The blow landed, knocking me and the Indian back a dozen feet. Our bodies were like rag dolls, flopping about before crumpling to the ground. I stood, expecting to feel the stinging pain of the punch, but instead I looked over and saw the Indian’s face caved in.

The goon was still devoid of expression, but as I came to my feet, I saw a few heroes closing in, landing around me, forming a circle.

Nitronic was there, as were Silverstone and Doppler, and soon most of the remaining heroes approached me. I saw Coach standing behind FTL, her silver threads trailing off in every direction, including the goon that had dropped the Indian and a few other villains ringing her like Zundergrub’s guardian posse. She was a tall, thin woman, maybe in her mid-fifties, with short blonde hair ringing a severe face. Her blue eyes regarded me as one would a trapped pest.

“You should have run,” she said.

I laughed. “If that’s what passes for ‘thanks’ these days, well ... then you’re welcome.”

“Careful, he’s dangerous,” said Nitronic, and I didn’t know whether to be humbled or ashamed. They circled around me, adding to Coach’s mind control army to give me no chance at escape.

Chaos raged around us as heroes exacted revenge on their captors. Some, like a flamer called Pyromancer, scorched his enemies to a crisp, spreading his burning flames without care for friend or foe. In his defense, he had been one of the poor souls enduring torture when I had made my move. Others, like Defiant, found their lifelong nemesis (in his case, Maggot) and resumed their quarrels. A few heroes, like FTL and Technometer, used their ranged powers to scare the throng of villains away.

For their part, few villains stood and fought. Psychlok grew to huge proportions, transforming into a thirty-foot-tall man-lizard with mottled blue skin and a red slashing pattern on his back. His skin was near invulnerable, but alone the heroes were slowly overwhelming him. Satanica was another who didn’t fear any of us. She swung her Deathlash about, throwing curses and using her lifeater aura to rip the soul from anyone who got too close. A couple of heroes had dared, and their lifeless bodies lay at her feet, nothing more than denuded bone and dust.

This bunch of heroes was only concerned with me. They had caught Blackjack, and they weren’t letting me get away.

“I’m who you have to thank for being free,” I said, standing more upright than I felt, after the pounding I had received.

“We can take him between all of us,” Siverstone said, getting ready to attack.

“No, you can’t,” I smiled.

“Easy, buddy,” Coach said, making sure a few of her toughest puppets were between us. “Look around you. It’s over. Your boss is dead, and the rest of your buddies are captured ... or dead. Just turn yourself in and we’ll figure this out.”

A huge boulder flew overhead, making us all duck. Psychlok was giving them a hell of a fight, using churned-up pieces of concrete as missiles against FTL and other fliers.

“I’m here with Superdynamic,” I said, hoping he’d be listening, hoping he’d have my back, but the son of a bitch let me go down in flames. This way, I wouldn’t interfere with his plan for the White House. This way I was neutralized and he could be a hero, without me to worry about.

I thought of my boots, and didn’t figure anyone here who could catch me. FTL and Technometer were fast fliers, but their attention was on the huge monster, Psychlok. I could be halfway to New York City by the time they realized I was gone. The problem was Coach – she would mind-control me the instant my boots came alive.

I could attack her first, drop her before she got a hold of me, but there were others to contend with. Doppler could hold and keep me still if he got me early enough. Nitronic was a flier, but I had never seen him go that fast. I could probably outrun him, but I couldn’t out-distance his powerblasts and I couldn’t risk a lucky shot destroying my boots.

Still, there was an easy way out. I could get away, fly back to Superdynamic and rub it in his face. Thanks for the help, asshole. But something kept me from running. Maybe it was the thought of always running. I was probably just an obstinate bastard who didn’t know better, because, facing off against an overpowering group of heroes, I just laughed, inviting the fight.

“You people are so goddamned stupid,” I spat, my voice growing louder and louder. “I just saved you. I killed that piece of shit, the one that’s behind all of this, and now you want to fight me? Huh? Because of something that happened a year ago?”

Coach raised her hand, stilling me. Perhaps because of her age, because she was known as a serious hero, I quieted.