New Olympus Saga (Book 1): Armageddon Girl (23 page)

Face-Off

New York City, New York, March 14, 2013

Condor’s vessel emerged from the East
River like a monstrous sea creature, scaring the shit out of a ferry full of
commuters.

“We’re going to be on YouTube before
breakfast,” I grumbled.

“I’d better be. I could use the
publicity,” Condor replied. “I haven’t flown this baby in over a year, so it’s
good to know it can still make an impression.”

“You have maintained it regularly,
right?” Christine asked nervously. She clearly didn’t like flying very much.

“Of course,” Condor said as the ship rose
over the river, shedding water like a duck. The Condor Jet was a big,
odd-looking thing with a bird design including a beak on its tip, but it could
travel under water and in the air, where it could outperform an F-42 fighter. Condor
went on in a tour guide voice. “On your left, you can see the Brooklyn Bridge.
It looks like we have stopped traffic, but that shouldn’t last long. New
Yorkers don’t impress easily.”

“Is the Condor-plane supposed to be
vibrating right now?” Christine said. “Because I can feel it vibrating right
now.”

“The VTOL system does generate a bit of
turbulence, unfortunately,” Condor said. “As soon as we get some altitude I’ll
fire off the turbines and it’ll be a smooth ride, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve always liked the vibrations
myself,” Kestrel commented from the copilot seat, and Christine scowled at her.
Well, scowled at Kestrel’s back. It was a pretty cute scowl, I thought.

I watched the New York skyline as it
receded away, and wondered if I would ever see it again. I hoped my friends
would be all right without me. Father Alex had agreed to leave town for a few
days. My friendship with him was largely a secret, but I didn’t want him to
take any chances, not if the Russians and Ukrainians were looking for me. I’d
spoken briefly with Cassandra that morning, despite her instructions not to
contact her. She’d been expecting my call, of course, and assured me she would
be fine and proceeded to admonish me not to call again. I still worried.

“Fasten your seat belts, ladies and
gents,” Condor announced. A few moments later the aircraft started
accelerating. The stealth system kicked in, wrapping the aircraft in an energy
field that rendered it invisible to radar, cameras and even the old Mark I
eyeball. The vibrations stopped and the flight settled into smooth,
imperceptible movement. Christine relaxed visibly. “We will arrive in Chicago
in one hour and twenty-five minutes. Thank you for flying Condor Airlines.”

“That’s pretty fast,” Christine
commented. “We’re not going to have time to watch an in-flight movie or
anything. Too bad, I kinda wanted to catch Oliver Stone’s
True Patriot
.”

“Don’t bother,” I said. “It’s full of
mistakes, even a few outright lies.”

“Oh, okay. I got the basics on the
Patriot and how he became President after Kennedy before I fell asleep by the
computer. So what’s so wrong about the movie?”

“Not much, except it implies a Neo
conspiracy destroyed Kennedy’s presidency during the First Asian War, which led
to his losing the election to Ray Stephens. Kennedy was something of an
anti-Neo guy – he pushed the Parahuman Registration Act – but it’s kind of a
big leap to claim Stephens’ victory was a ‘bloodless coup.’ There are no ‘vast
Neo conspiracies.’”

“Well, not that we know of,” Condor commented.
“Of course, if you listen to the wilder conspiracy theories, all Neos are
working together to form a planetary government. Blame Daedalus Smith and his
stupid ‘New World Order’ speech back in ‘81. He might as well have started
spouting off about the Illuminati.”

“Yikes. I just wanted to watch a movie,”
Christine said.

“Sorry. It’s just that a lot of people
hate us, and it pisses me off,” I admitted. “The media has a love-hate
relationship with Neos. You get the tabloids treating us like superstars on the
one hand, and regular newspapers ready to pounce whenever a Neo screws up or
commits a crime on the other.”

“I can kinda understand people being
afraid of Neos,” she replied. “I was on Hyperpedia all night, and there’s some
scary stuff out there. You have the Ukraine and like half of China under Neo
dictators, you have that guy in Mexico...”

“
El Presidente
, yeah,” I agreed.
“But he gets elected democratically every time.” Of course,
El Presidente
had been winning elections for over fifty years.

“Sure, but he still pretty much gets to
do whatever he wants. I found like twenty parahuman dictators all over the
world. Africa, South America, that Papa Doc guy and his army of Neos and
zombies in Haiti…”

“The Legion put a stop to that. Now Haiti
is a pretty nice place to visit,” I said, and belatedly realized I was
defending the Legion. Normally I would piss all over those sanctimonious pricks
unless they were on fire.

“That’s the thing: Neos had to rescue
Haiti from other Neos. Muggles – regular people, I mean – don’t stand a
chance.”

“Most Neos do their best not to infringe
on the rights of normal humans,” Condor said. “And we do our best to hunt down
the ones who think they are above human justice. In fact, when we have more
time, young lady, you are going to take my course on Parahuman Ethics. It’s not
quite as long and boring as what properly bonded and licensed Neos get, but it
covers the basics. Short version: you are not better than anybody else just
because you have powers. If anything, you have an obligation to use those
powers for the betterment of all.”

“’With great power comes great
responsibility,’” Christine said, clearly quoting something.

“Exactly,” Condor agreed.

“A very wise man said that in my world.
On the other hand, another wise man said ‘Power corrupts, and absolute power
corrupts absolutely.’”

“We can only hope he was wrong. Because
there are a lot of people with great power – over five thousand confirmed Neos
– running around. And sure, a lot of people would love to see us gone, but
we’re here, they’d better get used to it.” Christine snorted when Condor said
that, for no reason I could fathom.

“She’s got a point, though,” I felt
forced to admit. “Most of what we do is clean up messes other Neos made.”

“But we are cleaning up those messes. That’s
my point.”

“I’m sorry I’m being so negative,”
Christine said. “You guys have been great, and from what I read Neos have done
incredible things for the world. I guess whenever someone shows me a silver
lining, I start looking for a cloud.”

“Can’t blame you for that,” I said. “This
ain’t no utopia. It’s a miracle some dickhead with more power than sense hasn’t
blown up the planet. We’ve had Neo-created plagues, tsunamis, earthquakes and
giant monsters, and every couple of years it seems some asshole decides to try
and take over the world.”

“Could be worse, I guess,” Christine
said. “It could happen every week.”

“We do what we can, and usually the guys
who pull that crap don’t get a chance to do it twice.”

“Oh. In my world’s comic books, villains
usually keep coming back.”

“Here they get the death penalty, and
they typically don’t come back from that.”

‘Yikes. Harsh.”

“Once you catch somebody after he’s
killed a couple hundred innocent people, you really don’t want to risk him
getting out and doing it again.”

“Okay, still harsh, but I guess that
makes sense.”

“I’m pretty sure whoever kidnapped you
also has some world-changing plan in the works,” I said. “And when I find them,
they won't be making any more plans, ever.” I was full of shit, and I knew it
even before the last words were out of my mouth. I was a holy terror when it
came to beating up local gang bangers or Neos in my own weight class, but I
wasn’t going to stop a planetary conspiracy. At best, I’d die trying, and dying
while trying is a loser’s way out.

Christine didn’t say anything for a
while. Just as well.

Hunters and Hunted

New York City, New York, March 14, 2013

In retrospect, killing the Mafioso had
not been a good idea.

Archangel sat back on his armchair and
listened to the local lackeys’ excuses. His temporary headquarters was an
office that belonged to a pimp from Belarus. The Brooklyn location was more
convenient than the secret facility in Manhattan, and closer to his underground
contacts, contacts like the very pimp whose office he’d appropriated and the
other drug-dealers, racketeers and general scum he was forced to work with
until they found the girl. Archangel briefly considered killing one of them
pour
encourager les autres
, but resisted the urge. For one, it would make a mess
on the carpet. For another, they probably couldn’t be any more afraid of him
than they already were. Drive too much terror into a man's heart and he became
unpredictable.

“We have spread the word, and we have
photos of the girl out on the streets,” the current lackey said, unaware of his
close brush with death. Well, perhaps not wholly unaware, considering how much
he was sweating, even for a fat pig from Minsk. Archangel’s reputation was well
known in certain circles.

Kill one man, and you are a monster. Kill
a few thousand, and you become a legend.

“What else?” he asked.

“We are searching for the vigilante,
Face-Off. It is not easy. He operates throughout the city, and he can alter his
appearance.”

Anonymity was a powerful defense. Once a
target’s location was known, it could be attacked, no matter how well-defended
it was. The Mafioso he had killed might have had some idea where this Face-Off
was. There was also the matter of retaliation once the Mob found out the fate
of their boss. Both points indicated that killing Bufalino had been an error.

He was reluctantly relieved that Mr.
Night was not directly overseeing this part of the operation. The disgusting
toad would have made some pointed remarks about Archangel’s mistakes, and it
would have been hard to resist the temptation to cut him down to size.
Archangel had tried doing just that once before, shortly after making his
acquaintance, and the results had been… suboptimal. Best to avoid the
temptation to try again.

He needed more assets. Fortunately, they
were due to arrive soon.

Archangel patiently listened to his
lackeys’ reports, which revealed nothing of much value. The interrogation of a
handful of Mafiosi had revealed nothing more than what he already knew or
suspected – Bufalino had held on to the girl as a bargaining chip, and the
faceless vigilante had taken her. If that imbecile had kept to his part of the
bargain, the mission would have been accomplished already. Killing him had been
the right thing to do, he decided.

“We have visitors, sir.”

“Show them in.” The promised
reinforcements were here. Archangel watched the newcomers with interest. 

The man and woman walked in side by side,
looking in different directions so that between them they could scan the whole
room. They made an odd couple, a towering bearded Cossack and a petite Japanese
female. Archangel knew from the files he had read that they were a couple as
well as a team, lovers and killers.

He examined the man most intently at
first, for he was a living legend who had changed the history of Archangel’s
Motherland. The newcomer was a hulking brute, well over seven feet tall, his
massive physique hardly concealed under the bulky black overcoat he wore, his
brown hair and beard long and casually groomed, framing a harsh Slavic face.
Archangel recognized him from old black and white pictures of the man standing
over the shattered remains of a Panzer IV, holding the tank’s turret over his
head like a trophy.

Medved, the Bear, the man who killed
Stalin and with him the Soviet Union, met Archangel’s eyes unflinchingly.

Strange. Not too long ago, as Neolympians
measured such things, Archangel would have charged Medved and slashed him into
quivering gobbets of flesh, or tried to. But the young boy who had grown in the
dying remnants of the USSR and the chaotic Ukrainian puppet that followed its
downfall was long gone now. The boy had become the man known as Archangel, and
Archangel now served the Ukrainian overlord who had done as much as this
hirsute giant to destroy the
Rodina
. Things changed. One learned
to adapt or one was crushed by the changes.

“Medved,” Archangel said, nodding his
head at the giant. He turned to his companion. “And Lady Shi,” he added,
acknowledging the woman. “Welcome.”

If Lady Shi was offended by being greeted
last, she gave no sign of it. She was beautiful like a porcelain doll, her
delicate features cold and impassive. Archangel saw the way Medved looked at
her, and belatedly realized she was the more dangerous of the two. He had
misjudged her, a justifiable blunder given the history surrounding her gigantic
companion, but a blunder nonetheless.

“Archangel,” Lady Shi said in perfect
English. “The Iron Tsar’s little hatchet man. You do know my Bear has no love
for Russians, do you not?” She smiled, and for a second Archangel caught a
glimpse of the madness and fury behind the cool façade. Behind her, Medved
tensed slightly, and violence and death became imminent.

One of the men in the room didn't react
well to the insult to Archangel. Arseny Bogdanovich was a young hothead, and he
instinctively began to reach for his gun. Most likely he wouldn't have pulled
out the weapon – only the truly insane drew a gun on Neolympians of this
reputation – but nobody had a chance to find out. Lady Shi reacted to the
sudden move without ever taking her eyes off Archangel. Her left hand moved
with blurring speed and a glowing star-shaped object flew from her outstretched
fingers and sliced through Arseny's neck. His severed head landed with a thud
on the carpet, followed a second later by the rest of his body.

“Nobody move!” Archangel shouted before
things turned into a bloodbath. “Arseny shouldn't have drawn on a guest, even a
rude guest.”

“My apologies for the rudeness, Archangel-san,”
Lady Shi said, giving him the bow an equal bestows on another she has offended
slightly. “I repay it with the removal of a man who clearly lacked the common
sense not to provoke me into action.” Her grin widened.

Archangel smiled back. Here was a woman
after his own heart, a stone cold killer who loved what she did. He preferred
pliable and submissive bed partners, but someone like her would make for a very
entertaining diversion. The damn Bear was a lucky man. “You know who I work
for, and I know who you work for,” he said politely. “Circumstances have forced
us to work together. I suggest we make the best of it.”

“Yes,” Lady Shi said pleasantly, and
Medved relaxed minutely. “We all will be the best of henchmen. Our lord and
master commands it, and my Bear and I owe him everything.”

It was odd that Medved had not ended up
in the service of the Iron Tsar like so many former Heroes of the Revolution –
and a few Teutonic Knights, for that matter. He would have made a good addition
to the Iron Guard. The reports Archangel had read indicated the big Cossack had
disappeared after the war and emerged decades later as the agent of a
clandestine American organization. That organization was now working with the
Tsar, so in effect the Bear was finally serving him. Lady Shi was the Bear's
true mistress, however. Archangel would be sure to remember that. 

A couple of men removed the mortal
remains of the unfortunate Arseny and dropped some newspapers over the pool of
blood he'd left behind. The carpet was ruined, of course. Oh, well; it was
bound to happen eventually.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable. If
you want any refreshments, they will be provided.”

“So, you are looking for the woman from
another world,” Lady Shi said after they sat down and had their drinks served
to them.  “But she is protected from normal means of scrying, correct?”

“Unfortunately, that is true. Among my
men I have a psychic sensitive and a clairvoyant, and neither of them has been
able to find her.”

“I have some small skill in these
matters,” Lady Shi said modestly. “But I will not try to find the girl. I will
concentrate on her rescuer, the man with no face.”

“If he is with her, he is likely
protected as well,” Archangel objected. In fact, he had tried the exact same
thing and his psychic hounds hadn’t been able to locate him at all, either.

“My talent also allows me to see where he
has been, not just where he is now,” Lady Shi explained. “I will lead us to
wherever he makes his lair. Perhaps the girl will be there. Or perhaps someone
there will be able to tell us what we need to know.”

Archangel nodded. “That is good. We are
off to a good start.”