Blackjack Wayward (The Blackjack Series) (49 page)

“Blackjack,” she began. “I don’t know much about you, but I do know that you escaped captivity along with everyone else here. I also know that you were put away for some serious stuff.”

“Then why help you? If I’m one of Zundergrub’s boys, then why kill him? Besides, there’s no time for this. Superdynamic and his team are headed toward the White House; they’re trying to free the President. They need your help, dammit!”

“Maybe you turned on him,” Nitronic said, slightly adjusting his ready pose. “Look, it’s easy. Surrender or we pummel you.”

I laughed again, “Take more than you guys to bring me down.”

“We’d take you easy,” Doppler said.

“Then why are you waiting?”

Coach shook her head. “Enough of this crap,” she said. A silver lash whipped the distance between us with such speed that I was barely able to flinch.

Memories flashed by my consciousness, like she was flipping through the card catalog of my life, one instance at a time. She was there at every important moment. When Atmosphero showed in the middle of the armed robbery I tried to stop, my first heroic effort gone wrong, Coach was one of the bystanders, watching as the hero stitched me with lightning from head to toe, only to drop to one of my trick arrows. When Influx, Cool Hand Luke, Mr. Haha 2000, Zundergrub, and I had crossed weapons, pantomiming the knights of the round table, Coach’s visage replaced that of a figure in one of the paintings. When Gentleman Shivvers slit Influx’ throat, Coach’s face reflected behind a blood-spattered mirror. When I sacrificed myself for the others, for Apogee, on Shard World, climbing the rocky outcropping and firing off my remaining arrows at the incoming Mist Army horde, Coach’s features were concealed by the helm of one of the onrushing Pig-gorilla warriors. When Zundergrub betrayed us at Hashima, when he mind-controlled Sharpshooter, commanding him to fire his weapon at Dr. Retcon’s daughter, Coach was there, her face reflected in the rifle’s scope, her cold expression softened, becoming almost tender as she watched Retcon grieve, then descend into madness. And as Zundergrub fought me, toying with me as Apogee bled to death, as Retcon used the machine he’d intended as Earth’s salvation to murder every living soul on it, Coach was a gleam in Retcon’s insane eye, staring at me from within the vortex of Telluric energy, watching as I fought for the woman I loved and a world that would come to despise me.

When she released me, only a split-second had passed, but in that time, she had seen my full experience and knew me better than anyone. She was gentle in her probing, but despite that, I felt dizzy and physically ill. I doubled over, fighting the urge to free my stomach.

“Easy there,” she said, reaching out to hold my arm when I stumbled forward. “Yeah, that can be kind of a rough trip.”

“Coach?” Nitronic asked, not sure what she was doing.

“He’s all right,” she said, though I wasn’t sure if she was referring to my character or just commenting on my reaction to her powers.

“Wish you had warned me,” I said, but Coach just laughed.

“What do we do with this guy?” Silverstone said, inching closer, ready to throw her powers at me once again.

I tried to stand as straight as I could, to be as imposing as I could, in case one of these guys got the funny idea to take me down while I was under Coach’s spell, but she just stood in front of me, her arms on my shoulders as if about to embrace me.

“You okay?” she asked, squeezing my deltoids.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Coach chuckled. “Hell of a thing.”

I smiled.

“Can you stop Mighty?”

“I think so,” I said, suddenly remembering where I was, what I was supposed to do.

“Then go,” she said. “We’ll clean this up and help that General fellow the best we can.”

She released me, stepping back to join her heroes. Her mind puppets ran off to join the fight against the remaining villains, leaving her undefended.

“Let him go,” Coach said as I was about to engage the rocket boots.

I gave her a curt nod as I lifted off, her voice fighting against the roaring of my boot thrusters. “He’s on our side,” I heard her say before she turned her attention to the remaining villains.

I took to the air, keeping low and slow, though the thrusters left an easy trail of smoke to follow in my wake. Superdynamic was still silent on comms, and I couldn’t reach anyone else from the team. I guess he had decided to close me out.

Instead, I tried to draw a straight line in my head from the rendezvous site where the chopper had crashed to the White House and tried to match that vector on a parallel, hoping to find Battle. I flew at treetop level over a street of demolished brownstones and saw several fallen supers that drew my interest. A few hundred yards away, a few tanks opened fire into some wrecked buildings, and I could see a horde of army guys shooting at anything that moved.

Landing, I saw the South Korean villain team K-POP, their dozen or so members strewn about the area with various injuries.

They were a posh bunch, dressed in successively more ridiculous costumes, blue velvet fabric, sequin and rhinestones. The heavy of the group, BIGBANG, was split in half, as if cleaved by a huge blade. The wounds were cauterized, which made me think of Templar’s grand cleaver. Most of them were seriously injured, including one fellow I couldn’t recognize whose body had burst outward like an overripe melon. Their leader, D.i.s.c.o., was sitting atop a large rock, holding a wad of his torn clothing against a wound on the side of his head. Another of their conscious members, former JV pop star Hyula, raised her hand at me, charging her palm with raw energy. She was dazed and bruised, but she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Seeing her about to attack me, D.i.s.c.o. lowered the rag, curious to see what was going to happen.

I lifted a chunk of building, a concrete baseball weighing perhaps a quarter ton, and made ready to throw it. Hyula dropped her hand, covering her face as she began to cry. D.i.s.c.o. held the cloth back to stem the bleeding on the side of his head and sighed, resigned to his fate. I tossed the rock aside and ran toward the heavy gunfire.

Ahead was Superdynamic’s group, taking cover in the wreckage of nearby buildings. They were surrounded by a full company of army regulars, including a Bradley M2 and two Humvees, raking their position with high-caliber fire and TOW missiles. Moe was in front of the rest, giving the army guys a clear target away from the team, but he looked weary, exhausted. The others huddled deep in a nook, at least one of them injured.

Superdynamic had warned us: these were just rank and file soldiers, following orders, however deranged they might be. We needed to measure our response against them, but they were killing my team. I landed behind the Bradley, drawing fire from a few nearby soldiers, their AR-15s pelting me like heavy rain, but I ignored them and lifted the IFV from behind and hefted it into the park. One of the .50-caliber gunners on a Hummer turned his attention toward me, but I fired the grapple gun into one of the heavy wheels, the solid metal spike penetrating the thick armor with ease, and gripping the corded metal line, swung the rope in a wide circle around me, the Hummer’s tire’s rending concrete and earth as it skidded, lifting off the ground with the force, and flying in the same direction as the first Hummer as I let go. They collided in an explosion that blossomed high above the gutted buildings lining the street.

I ripped back at the grapple, tearing a wheel off the Humvee lying upside down in a charred wreck. A press of the winch recoil button sent the bouncing tire back to me, and I now had a makeshift shield. The soldiers in the area pulled back, peppering me with fire as I ran toward the fallen helicopter.

As I came around the corner to their defensive position, Moe’s fist flew at me much too fast for a guy his size, and with equal speed he pulled up when he saw me. He held both arms up defensively, blowing out a deep breath. I clapped his shoulder, trying to be friendly, and he nodded somberly. Mirage was working on Ricochet’s chest, weaving the flesh and bone back into place with his miraculous powers as the boy squirmed in Focus’ arms.

“They just started shooting, man,” Moe mumbled.

“Where’s Superdynamic?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Something hit him before we crashed.”

“Damn.”

A shot rang out, slamming into my back and stinging like hell. I turned and saw a trio soldiers running around our flank covered by a guy with a SAW who opened up on me. Moe ducked back under cover, but I strolled toward him, using the Humvee’s thick rubber to protect me. I grabbed a massive piece of concrete debris and hurled it with an echoing roar toward the trio, a cloud of red mist the only trace they ever existed, the concrete’s momentum carrying it through two buildings before the sounds of its crashing ended.

The SAW guy’s mouth dropped agape, but he yelled something and let his weapon rip, so I ripped the tire off the grapple and threw it at his position with similar results.

“We have to move,” I said, walking back to the team. ”They’re just going to radio our position in and overwhelm us.”

Moe nodded. “What about the little guy, man.”

Ricochet, in his pain, looked over at me, fear settling over his eyes.

“We have to leave him.”

“I won’t leave him,” Mirage said, still hard at work.

I looked down the street, noticing half a dozen soldiers crossing about a hundred yards away, and beyond them another tank rolling at us.

“Remember the plan,” I said.

“You’re not in charge, damn you!” Mirage spat. “We don’t follow your orders.”

I didn’t have time to respond as something landed next to me, chucking me to the ground before I realized it was a villain. Moe didn’t hesitate, adding a “bitch” to the full body right cross that sent the super flying half a block into and through a nearby building.

I came to my feet, noticing a few more hovering above us.

“That’s the way,” I said, and let Moe help me up.

“We can’t stay here, Chen,” he told Mirage.

“I need five more minutes,” Chen said.

Templar drew his ridiculously huge glowing sword and stepped forward, ignoring a few scrapes and cuts that required Mirage’s attention.

“I’ll hold them back,” he said, his voice cold and severe.

“That’s crazy,” I said. “There’s a bunch of supers up there.”

“We’re close, though,” said Moe. “Must be less than a mile if we hump it.”

“Focus, you and Ruby stay with Chen and Rico,” I said, figuring Moe, Templar and I were the real remaining heavy hitters on the team. We could at least try to make it to the White House. “Okay, let’s go,” I said, running off into the street.

The instant we left cover the soldiers opened up on us. Bullets bounced off my skin, and Templar spun his massive blade creating a protective shield. Moe had a different response to the incoming fire, he just took it, and the bullets seemed to get sucked into his body after slamming into his heavy skin. At the same time, and so subtly I almost missed it, he grew proportionally to the mass he was inheriting.

Templar fired a bolt of crackling energy from his weapon that had a mind of its own, twisting around corners, making sharp turns, bouncing off one, then another soldier, dropping them in fits of agony as violent electrical charges worked through their bodies.

“They won’t be harmed seriously,” he said, noticing the incredulous look on my face.

Freed from the barrage, we broke into a jog and took an alleyway around the incoming tanks. We followed Moe, who seemed to have a better grasp of the city. Just as we cleared the street, the tanks opened fire, blowing the area behind us to smithereens, raising a cloud of smashed brick and debris.

We came out the other side of the dark alley to see Superdynamic doing battle with more than two dozen super-powered enemies.

Chapter Forty-One

We didn’t hesitate, wading into Superdynamic’s light show as solid light and lasers flared out of his suit, circling around his torso and arms, wrapping around one of his attackers, the energy flaring bright, spikes shooting from the cocoon in loose ventral currents. Raw screams registered in my ears just as the flaring light stopped, the villain hanging in mid-air for a moment before hitting the ground in a boneless heap.

I ran up to the biggest guy, slamming my heavy boot into his knee, blowing out the joint. I followed up by grabbing his belt and lifting him off the ground just as a heavy thudding came to a stop behind me. I turned to see an eighty-foot tall mecha stop and bring its weapons to bear on me.

I threw the super at the mecha just as a half-dozen missiles fired off at me. The super caught some of the attack before slamming into the mecha’s chest, but the world around me exploded into fire as the mecha unleashed its full fury, opening up with more rockets and a dozen shoulder-mounted mini guns.

“Blackjack,” I heard someone scream above the hum of machine gun fire and the roar of explosions tearing up the ground, spitting up asphalt, dirt and rock. After what seemed like an eternity, the fusillade ended abruptly. Looking up, I saw Moe using one of the mecha’s arms as a battering ram against its torso. Superdynamic was lashing out near and close with his beam energies, holding the machine in place, peeling its armor back with dozens of lasers. Templar dove into the air, carried aloft by the magical eddies of his sword, impaling the mecha with a single thrust through the chest, the sword hilt digging deep into the armored monster. The robot tank erupted in an explosion that sent Templar flying back, but he just spun gracefully in the air and landed on his feet with the skill of a gymnast.

The remaining supers retreated, staying close enough to remain a threat. Moe ran over, helping me to my feet.

“You all right?” asked Superdynamic, brushing the dirt from my head and face.

“That was some shit,” Moe said of the punishment I took.

“Only hurts when I laugh,” I said, in a vain attempt to lighten the moment.

“Mirage, you online?” Superdynamic called into the comm system. “Dammit, I couldn’t reach General Hinds,” he said to us before Mirage interrupted.

“I hear you loud and clear. We’re on our feet, moving southeast down some back alleyways.”

“Sending you our telemetry, Chen. You remember how to use the tracker?”

“I’ll get us to you,” Focus said. “We’re two blocks north of you.”

“Okay, we’re waiting for you,” Superdynamic said, then turned to me. “You sure you’re all right?”

I nodded, still shaking out the cobwebs.

“Those MAV-1’s are motherfuckers,” Moe said, referring to the military designation for the mecha we had just fought.

Moe drew into his coat and pulled out a thin flask.

“Here, take a shot of this. It’ll warm your balls.”

I took a swig of what turned out to be whisky.

“Good stuff,” I said and took another drag. “Sorry about splitting up back there.”

Superdynamic smiled. “You saved my life.”

“Where did you say General Hinds is?” Templar jumped in, ever to the point.

“About a mile that way,” Superdynamic said, pointing toward the southwest. “They’re not making any progress. General Maxwell’s forces have circumvallated the White House, and they’ve formed a fortified contravallation around the city against Hinds and anyone who might stop them.”

“Like I know what the fuck that means,” Moe grumbled.

“What it means, my dear friend, is that we have to try to help General Hinds get through. Last I heard on radio chatter, their column of tanks is headed up 14
th
Street across the bridge. They’re in sight of the Washington Monument but facing off against a few of those things,” he motioned to the fallen mech.

“Hell, they’re almost through,” I said, thinking back to my limited knowledge of the capital. The monument was just south of the White House on the National Mall, due east of the Reflecting Pool, between the Lincoln memorial and the Capitol. But we were north, with the White House between us and General Hinds’ offensive.

Superdynamic patched us into the comm and we could hear some of the chatter.

“We’re closer to the White House,” I said. “Might as well go there first.”

Behind us, about a mile back, a tank turned the corner. The commander stuck out the top hatch, and when he saw us, he yelled down to his crew. The tank wheeled toward us, leading a column of M-1 Abrams tanks.

“That was the plan,” Superdynamic said, “But now it’s not looking feasible.”

“Why’s that?” I said.

“Lord Mighty is keeping the skies clear around the White House.”

“That’s a motherfucker,” Moe grumbled, echoing what we were all thinking as we looked up and saw a figure hovering over the White House, like a lone sentinel, watching all approaches.

I’d stood next to Lord Mighty, felt the imperious grace with which he carried himself, and I dreaded the next few moments. We were less than a mile from the White House and through the alleys we could see the ruins. But to get there we’d have to sneak past the man who could easily bear the title of greatest hero alive.

Except he wasn’t a hero anymore.

Whatever madness had overtaken him, induced by Zundergrub or not, he had changed sides and now stood against us, an impassable obstacle.

He floated a few hundred feet in the air above the wreckage of the White House, angled away from us, lording over the city and, by extension, the world, letting us all know what would come of his wrath should he choose to impose it upon us.

A strange silence surrounded the area around the White House ruins. None of Hinds’ troops had made it this far, and we had already passed through the outer ring of General Maxwell’s circumvallation. A few super villains flew above, but none dared come any closer, proof that Mighty wasn’t allowing anything near the White House.

“Everyone ready?” I asked, my eyes never leaving the floating figure.

“Templar, port in,” Superdynamic said, motioning to the younger man. “See what’s left in there.”

Templar held his sword tight and closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer before summoning a vortex of whirling magic that carried him away from us.

I expected Mighty to catch wind of this, to notice and flash into the White House to stop Templar’s magical transportation, but he did nothing.

Superdynamic motioned to me. “You can do it.”

He was scared. This wasn’t a bunch of psychotic villains, sub-powered and chaotic, like the ones we had faced and beaten so far. Mighty was the most powerful force left on earth, and if I couldn’t stop him, then no one could.

“I got him,” I said, knowing it was a one-way trip, conjuring up the courage that Nostromo had showed on Hashima when he had hurled himself against the Lightbringer.

He nodded, squeezing my arm, and then looked back at the horde of villains that were following us.

“I gotta admit,” he said, low enough so only I could hear. “I wasn’t sure I could trust you.”

“You thought I was going to pal up with Zundergrub?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I did what I had to do,” I said, meaning murdering the doctor.

Superdynamic stared at me for a long time, trying to find the right words, before deciding to let the moment pass and looking back at the pack of villains behind us.

I followed his gaze; there were at least a hundred of them within a block of us, staying back in large part because of Mighty, but also because we had put a hurting on them. They figured that once we got closer, the big guy would come down and show us a thing or two, and then they could pile on. I wondered why they still fought, with Zundergrub dead. Maybe they didn’t know and still hoped to curry his favor. Maybe they thought they could still collect on my bounty. They sat back, watching from the street, atop rooftops, or from the air.

“We see what the kid says when he comes back,” I said, also speaking low enough so only Superdynamic could hear. “If the President is still alive, you guys go in there, find her and Templar ports her out as far as he can, then try to make it to General Hinds and his boys. The rest of us and whatever’s left in there, we make a final stand and try to make it look good.”

Superdynamic nodded.

“It’s all contingent on you getting his attention,” he said, pointing to Lord Mighty.

I smiled. “I have a way with people.”

He cracked a grin too, but I could sense his tension. We were the last line of defense. If we failed, it was over. Hinds and his boys couldn’t fight off all those villains by themselves, and with us gone, little would stop Zundergrub’s horde from taking the White House, regardless of what Lord Mighty did. If the President was taken, or killed, the damage would be done. The world would fall to chaos.

It was up to us.

Templar’s magical field popped, bringing him back to us.

“So?” Superdynamic asked, the anxiety evident in his voice.

“I talked to the President. She said–”

“Is Apogee there?” I said, taking Templar by his arm with a sudden force that surprised the others. Moe was about to intercede, but he just put his head down.

“Yeah, she’s there, man,” Templar said, anger laced through his tone. I let go and he took a step back, keeping a wary eye on me. “The Revolution is down to her, Damage, and Dominus. The rest are dead. They’ve got a couple of other supers, and maybe thirty kids with rifles.”

“Jesus!” Moe said, shaking his head.

“Apogee’s tried getting the President out a couple of times, but Lord Mighty’s stopped her, even against all of Revolution.”

“Mt. Fuji’s dead?” I asked, wondering about Revolution’s resident tough guy, a big Sumo wrestler guy who could turn to stone and was thought to be tougher than anyone. Apparently, not tough enough to stand against Lord Mighty, as Templar confirmed.

“Yeah, he’s dead, Bamma’s dead. Jasper and Snaps.”

“Damn,” Moe said, doubling over and leaning on his knees, bewildered at the butcher’s bill. I didn’t want to tell him that the day was still young. More of us were going to join the list of fallen before it was all done and through.

“You tell Apogee the plan?” Superdynamic said.

Templar looked at us, evidently trying to find the right words. “She doesn’t like it, Super. But she’ll go along. Most I can port in a jump is a half a kilometer or so. Most times I’ve ever ported is three in a row, but that was by myself.”

“You have to get the President out,” Superdynamic said. “Port her southeast toward Hinds and his people by the bridge. Hopefully Mighty’s too busy to track you once you port.”

“What about the rest of us?” Moe said.

Superdynamic pointed back at the horde of villains.

“If they attack, that’s our job. We join up with Apogee and her people and fight as best we can. They’re a bunch of damned cowards, so drop a few of the bigger names and the rest will scatter.”

He looked over at Ruby, Focus, and Mirage, who were running out of an alley to join us, and clapped Moe on the shoulder. “Chen will make all the difference. With his help, we’ll get in, trust me. Once we’re inside, he’ll be able to keep us up, and with his illusions we’ll have the upper hand. I’ve identified 127 of the 138 villains that are nearby. None of them are formidable enough to defeat us if we work together. You okay, Rico?”

Ricochet chuckled, “My suit’s acting funny, Dee.” He winked at me. “It’s too fast for me to react in time. But I’m cool.”

“I know this is a lot to ask,” Superdynamic went on, “but we’re all that’s left. Get inside and we’ll be fine. Apogee has Damage and Dominus, and you know those two guys are big time. The key is Mirage, though. Ricochet, you, Focus, and Ruby watch his back, keep everything off him. Moe, you and I are backup on Lord Mighty.”

“God in heaven,” Moe said, his face blanched at the prospect of facing the man-god.

“Yeah, I hope he’s listening, too. We need his help now more than ever. If Mighty gets past Blackjack, we’re the last line of defense.”

He looked at us once more, settling again on Templar.

“Templar, you get to the President and port her out, get her out of this place. Don’t worry about anything else, you understand?”

Templar nodded, his face stern, concealing all signs of fear or nerves. The others might have been worried or even panicked, but they were ready, even if it meant they would die in the next few minutes. Rookies or not, Superdynamic’s team were good people.

“Everyone ready?” asked Superdynamic, placing a flat hand in midair at waist level; Chen placed his atop, and one by one the rest did as well. Despite the direness of the situation, my mind flashed back to Influx, Cool Hand, Haha, and Zundergrub standing just like this, the image fresh from Coach’s probing, and I couldn’t help but wonder at being the only member of that team still alive. Superdynamic looked at me, his mouth quirked to the side in the barest hint of a smile, and I couldn’t help but smile a bit on the inside as I placed my hand atop the pile.

“Hell of a thing,” I said.