Caped (Book 1): The Burdens of Fate (34 page)

"I got it!" he strains through
gritted teeth, "I can't hold this together much longer. I'm ready, let's
go!"

"Then in...three...two...," he pauses
for a final confirmation. They lock eyes and he nods the go-ahead,
"...one."

They’re instantaneously shifted through space,
materializing a half mile above Groom
Lake, Nevada. A
bright light that fades in and out as it descends. His eyes adjust quickly and
Luis unleashes the nova-hot beam of energy down towards the desert complex; a
cylindrical column of light. The earth itself shakes and cracks. White light
illuminate the area like flood lights on a football field.

The beam liquefies the ground the moment it
makes contact, cutting through layers of rock and steel piled on top of one
another for more than eight miles below the surface. The sirens ring with a
maddening fervor that boarders on sentience, while streams of tracer rounds
illuminate the night sky as they fire in desperate efforts of futility.
Milliseconds too late. The moment after the beam was fired Luis and Raphael
were gone; and before the ground had even finished cooling, still burning with
a molten glow, their four targets had been acquired.

It's the joyous reunion of Nena and her family,
made in secret in a quiet penthouse suite of a lavish hotel in the Colorado
Rockies.

Meanwhile, many miles away, the last
trickle of cars embark
on a days-long caravan of people
shuffling to abandon the city they call home. And yet, among the millions that
chose to flee, a brave and stubborn few have chosen to stay. Rejecting the fear
so forcefully put upon them and banding together to defend their homes.

Just before six o'clock the planet quakes with
another sudden shift, this time possessing a loose idea of an epicenter. New England. Windows rattle but none crack, and in under
thirty seconds it’s already subsiding.

In the city, for those who have stayed, or
returned to join in the protest, it does nothing but fuel their passions.
They've gathered on the Bridges that lead into Manhattan, refusing to be
"sheeple"
bullied into evacuating. Defying the warnings and threats. Protest that
overflow off of the Great Lawn of Central Park and into the streets of
Mid-Town. Vicarious chants of "No more Nocs!" and "Nocs be
gone!" A sea of hatred and contempt. The glow of fire and police sirens
illuminate through the darkest areas of the city that never sleeps until the
sky slowly changes from dark gray; sprinkled with the few stars persistent
enough to force their light down through the thick luminescence of countless street
lights, around the clock office buildings, club life, the ever-present behemoth
of Time Square; and into the morning coos of pidgins, hails for the few brave
taxi's that remain, and many other things that indicate a people tired of being
afraid and ready to make a stand.

The police presence is almost unnoticeable
compared to that of the military, their tanks rolling up and down the

Franklin Delano Roosevelt Highway
that runs the length of Manhattan along the east
river, and the
Henry Hudson
Parkway
that does the same for Hudson. The roar of jets echoing high over
head play guardian to the last few private 'red-eye' flights taking off from
Kennedy International and the distant sight of the five Naval Cruisers slowly
making their way towards the Hudson Bay;
reinforced by thousands of infantry soldiers walking up and down the streets
amid scores of rowdy people. All actions that have proven futile in stopping
the worldwide trail of destruction.

Those that have chosen to stay are on their
own, they know this. The government already considers them acceptable
casualties. They've had many warnings and they will be given no more. When the
bullets fly and the rockets roar, pray; that is their best hope and they know
it.

And yet the most action the world has seen stems
from civil unrest and the preparations of the military. The sun has long since
set for those in Asia and Australia, the day is more than half over for those
in Europe and has yet to begin for those in the Pacific.

 

"So, a ceasefire?" Thomas confirms.

"For now," says the soldier, the only
one in the vicinity.

"Let's face facts, you're the elite team
and you failed. We aren't asking to work with you on this, we're giving you the
opportunity to work with us."

"Your proposal?" asks the soldier.

"We divide into teams and wait for their
first move," says Thomas. "We've got two people who've already fought
with them before, let them take point. You're there to provide the
reinforcements."

"That is one shitty plan, you sure you're
a genius? Besides, we already know what they're capable of and I already have a
team." A portal opens behind the soldier, "Stay out of our way,
amateurs."

"I don't suppose you'll tell us where
you're going?" asks Ivan.

"No, but we'll be back. You don't honestly
think we'll let you keep this little island, do you?"

"If we did you'd have known about us more
than five days ago," he retorts.

"What makes you think we didn't?" he
says, fully enveloped within the portal. It closes.

"I'm not going to lie, that doesn't make
me feel any better," says Michael.

"Yeah, and since when did you have any
sort of power besides that smart brain of yours?!" adds Prisca, "And
'Plan B?' Thomas, I think we deserve some answers."

"Plan A was me
not
getting involved
until the damn runner showed up, because no matter how
prepared
we think
we are, it all goes south in less than a quarter of a second. And by
go
south
I mean we all end up dead before we even have time to think about
just how
fucked
we are. Plan B was me keeping everyone alive no matter
what because, regardless of what's
smart
, I don't want to see any of you
dead! So please, let me know if that bothers you."

There's an uncomfortable silence. "Why'd
you have to leave it for Plan B?" asks Carter.

"Because I wasn't even sure I'd be able to
stop him in the first place," he responds. "But that's old news. The
sun's up on the east coast by now, I'm sure the fireworks are going to start
soon."

 

At 9:23am the crowds are more riled up than
ever, like wild beasts stomping the ground and bearing their teeth. People take
turns climbing a raised makeshift podium and proclaiming their love of
humanity, their family, their city, and their hatred of nocs. They taunt the
unseen aggressor, waving guns in the air and flaunting the might of the military.
Screams of, "America! The most powerful country on earth!" and other
foolish patriotic jargon.

Julius, the powerhouse, takes to the podium
with Luis at his side, shouting the interconnectedness of his generation;
"In the 90's the internet connected the world, but social media brought us
together in one voice!" Proclaiming the global will of the people to be
free from tyranny and oppression of any kind. The crowd feeds off the message
with vigor. They understand that this is the generation that became greater
than any individual. "The generation that understands that despite our
differences,
we are one!
"

The peak of his rant, and a steady voracious
chanting of "We are one! We are one!" He pulls his phone from his
pocket just as the final numbers countdown to zero; an alarm begins to signal
but is promptly cut off. There are a few scattered screams from the crowed as
people catch the vibrant moving ads of Times Square
give way to darkness. Confusion quickly turns to panic, and Luis, still
chanting "We are one!" erupts in a rapidly expanding ball of fire. He
burns so hot the metal stage begins to melt, flesh boils and chars until all
that's left of people are thin lumps of fragile coal.

Industrial glass cracks and melts out of the
windows, evaporating before ever reaching the ground. The steel frames bend and
melt, causing these towering structures to sway and crash into each other. The
scattered sounds of concrete popping and the random combustion of brick sing
through the area.

Their reaction time is impressive. Through the
thinning smoke and anti air explosives, Michael darts towards midtown and the
growing vortex of fire engulfing it. Down through the canyons of the buildings
until, like a meteor dropping out of heavens, he tackles Julius down through the
street and into the iron underbelly of the city; amid the tracks and trains.
Julius forces himself free and tries to retreat to a higher position but
Michael quickly recovers and tackles him back up towards the surface, tumbling
along the ground before gaining a firm grip, and throws him with great force,
out of the way; toppling through a dozen buildings before slamming into a wall
and being buried underneath a pile of rubble.

Michael eyes Luis, who's still covered in fire
from head to toe. Luis takes off into the sky, leaving the firestorm to
abruptly dissipate, and only the deep glowing hole burned into the center of Times Square remaining. Michael tails right behind in
eager pursuit.

With a lift from Prisca, Laurie lands near the East Side with a hard thud, standing at the end of a
trail of debris that extends for blocks. "You ain't dead, are you?!"
he yells into a pile of rubble that's still in the process of collapsing in on
itself.

Raphael watches unnoticed through cracked glass
from within a nearby café as military personnel converge on his location. The
sparse rattle of bullets crescendo to a low steady Roll, which Laurie ignores
with the exception of the thundering pang of cannon fire from the tanks. Laurie
makes his way over to the pile of concrete, glass, and steel, and begins to
rummage through when Michael and Luis whiz by overhead. Julius tears out from
beneath the rubble in a violent explosion, launching himself into the sky after
them.

Annoyed, Laurie huffs out over the radio that
his target's ignored him, Thomas gets a few chuckles out of it before telling
him to make his way downtown for a rendezvous. Laurie makes an easy leap to the
top of the closest building before making a larger one downtown. Raphael tails
him, moving to higher vantage points to follow.

Thomas repeats the message over the radio to
Michael who's at least two miles up and dodging a variety of scorching rays of
fire, aircraft rounds, and missiles.

Micheal takes a straight dive from cloud level
to the city streets, lined by a trail of pitch black explosions. Luis fires a
cluster of fireballs towards him while gathering energy for a larger attack.
One makes contact, sending Michael slamming into the ground while the other
fireballs explode onto the ground around him, engulfing him in a chaotic mess
of fire and concrete. It's quickly suppressed by a thick column of fire, which
Michael barely avoids. He tumbles violently out from the cloud of smoke and
debris before catching his bearings and beelining it down the canyon of buildings
that is Park Avenue.

Thomas and the rest of the crew anxiously wait
among the steady trickle of people running to the perimeter of the island.
Laurie lands and is quickly briefed on the plan... And at that moment the worst
possible scenario presents itself.

"Game over," says Yuri, grinning.
Having just materialized; his white track suit speckled with blood, and his
right arm soaked in blood; covered from his elbow down with tiny bits of bone
and warm flesh.

Thomas calmly whispers through the radio for
Michael to stay away, to which he give an irritated yet affirmative reply, soon
marked by another loud explosion as Luis and Michael tear off out over the
Atlantic.

"Your government has failed you, you are
alone. You will die alone," Yuri asserts.

A bloodied and lifeless body falls from the
sky, hitting the ground with a hard thud. First one, and then another, a steady
drum of bodies raining from the sky. Some are missing limbs, some, their heads,
and others simply with large gaping holes in their frame. It is the Alpha Team,
dead. Defeated before they even had a chance to make a difference, and further
enforcing the hopelessness of there situation. Like rubbing dirt on and open
and festering sore.

"We are progress!" roars Yuri, his
arms raised high in apparent victory, "And your resistance is at its
end."

The rest of the gang materializes behind him;
Raphael, Naim, Luis, Julius, and Telan, his eyes glowing and ready to fire.

Thomas' lips move ever so slightly, breathy
words that could easily pass for short nervous exhales.

"So 'heroes,' are you prepared to
d..." Yuri freezes in his tracks, mid-sentence, and already mere inches in
front of Thomas, anger screaming through every pore and wrinkle on his face,
his arms angled back ready to strike a killing blow.

A beam streaks across towards Thomas which
Laurie quickly moves in to shield him from.

Thomas gives the signal to Prisca and she
winces tightly as if in pain, almost completely shutting her eyes, gnashing her
teeth together, and holding tight any air inside her chest. A loud high
frequency tone floods the area with the entire opposing group toppling over in
pain. Raphael quickly jumps away.

Thomas tries to grip onto the frozen speedster
but quickly discovers he's intangible. He curses under his breath.