No Master Plan Here (Madness Runs in the Family) (22 page)

             
Denise slipped into the pilot's seat, setting her helmet down on the floor.

             
“You're in my seat,” Anansi said. Denise made a show of inspecting the seat.

             
“I don't see your name on it,” she said, kicking her feet up on the instrument panel. Anansi rolled his eyes and focused on the data streaming across his glasses again.

             
“So is the helmet gonna poke me in the back of the head, trying to interface with my brain?” Denise asked, her helmet in hand again as she poked about the inside. She found the ports that would connect with the neural interface.

             
“No, but it will need to calibrate with your eyesight. I'm ridiculously nearsighted and it compensates for that automatically.” Anansi crossed his eyes at Denise, giving her a stupid grin. She laughed. Anansi stood, gesturing for Denise to do so as well. “Let me check to make sure you're wearing it all right.”

             
Denise stood and Anansi began tugging at various places of the coat, the combat rig, and the belt. He felt a flush grow in his cheeks as he worked, despite trying to keep his mind entirely professional. Denise sighed and cupped Anansi's chin, directing his face to hers.

             
“You're doing everything you can to keep your mind off of sex, and I appreciate that, but you've checked my breasts four times already. I think I'm good.” Anansi nodded, sitting back down into the copilot's chair.

             
“You're going to have to use the voice commands for the teleportation rig and the displacement/invisibility field generator. Kay is pretty sure she can run the calculations for you while maintaining her own, so don't worry.”

             
“You're the one worrying right now,” Denise replied, sitting back down and kicking her feet up again. She tucked her arms behind her head. “We went over all of this back on Sanctuary. We don't need to go over it again.” Anansi flushed and nodded, shutting his mouth and focusing on the countdown timer until interception.

             
“Are you two decent?” called Kay as she walked in, a gloved hand over her eyes. She peeked out from between her fingers and sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. I was sure you two would be getting it on or something.” Denise and Anansi flipped Kay the bird.

             
“I think I liked her better when she was either a disembodied voice or a voice you could only hear,” Denise said, jerking her thumb at Kay. Kay huffed and stuffed her head in her helmet.

             
“Well I never!” she said in a tone of mock irritation and tromped back into the cabin to sit in one of the passenger seats. Denise shared a look with Anansi. They laughed until the countdown timer reached zero. Anansi brought up the radar display on the instruments panel, which showed a formation of aircraft below them and following a course approximately the same direction they had predicted. Anansi took off his glasses, placed them in a case, and tucked them into his coat. He put on his helmet and stood.

             
“Show time, girls. Let's rock.” Denise slipped on her helmet. She grabbed Anansi's hand, placing her head against his.

             
“Don't mess up, evil genius. Wouldn't want history remembering you as a minor footnote of a bad guy.” Anansi could hear the smile in her voice. He laughed and patted her on the rear.

             
“I refuse to plan for anything, even that possibility.”

             
“You're crazy,” she said with a shake of her head. Anansi smirked inside his helmet and activated his teleportation rig.

Chapter 24

             
Brianna enjoyed working on Air Force One. As a stewardess, she had a pretty relaxed job and good pay. The likelihood of anything going wrong, especially in this day and age with supers, was minimal. The plane's escort, in addition to two fighter jets that she couldn't ever remember the designator for, there was at least a squadron of supers. Today, in addition to the agents of SHIP that had foiled the villain Anansi, there was a group that called themselves Forcefire, a team of licensed vigilantes out of California. Brianna had met them before coming on board the plane. They all looked like supermodels and looked amazing in their spandex bodysuits. The ruggedly handsome Blazing Fury had given her his number.

             
There were many perks to this job.

             
Brianna brought a large tray of drinks into the conference room, where President Andrews was having a meeting with the agents of SHIP and the head of the Secret Service. They stopped talking when she entered, all looking up as the door opened. After a brief pause, they continued, and Brianna ignored their talk. If she were supposed to know anything about what they were doing, they would tell her so. The female agent, Spark, watched Brianna as she set drinks down around the table, like a hawk watching a mouse. It made Brianna uncomfortable. It felt like Spark wanted nothing more than to leap across the table and beat her down.

             
President Andrews thanked Brianna and dismissed her. Brianna nodded and left the room, glad to be out of the same room as Spark. She tried to convince herself that she was being ridiculous, but couldn't shake the feeling that Spark meant her harm for no particular reason.

             
Shaken as she was, she jumped violently when she heard a trio of thumps. They had come from behind her, in the hallway, where the Secret Service agents posted outside were stationed. She turned around to see three people dressed from head to toe in black and wearing smooth black helmets and both agents on the floor. One of them turned their head to Brianna, a pair of white circles over where the eyes would be on the helmet seeming to bore into her, judging her.

             
The helmet, the coat. Brianna knew who that was, but there was only supposed to be one of him, not three. Confusion stopped her from screaming immediately.

             
By the time she had realized what was going on, she was on the ground, staring at the ceiling. One of the Anansis was standing over her, and her muscles wouldn't move. The Anansi flexed a gloved hand, sparks traveling around it, and rejoined the others outside of her vision.

             
Brianna wondered if she would lose her job over this.

-~-~-

              “Shock gloves? Is that a new addition to the kit, or have you always had that?” Denise said. The conversation was being kept on a private channel between the helmets, ensuring that nobody heard the three but them.

             
“I brought them out because I haven't used them in a while and while killing a bunch of Secret Service agents would be easier, I'd rather not.” Anansi was adjusting his helmet display to see through the doors. Five people sitting around the conference table that could seat more. Kay had overridden the video feed from the security camera watching the door and set it to replay the same loop of empty hallway over and over again.

             
Other than the stewardess, it seemed like nobody knew they were here. Yet.

             
Anansi pulled a disc from his rig and fixed it to the door, spooling cable from the disc and attaching them to the ceiling and floor. He placed a grenade in the center of the disc in an indentation perfectly sized for it, pressed the button to activate the fuse, and started walking down the hallway towards the cockpit.

             
“What was that?” Denise asked as she followed behind him, keeping an eye to the rear for any movement.

             
“Cable trap and an anti-friction grenade. The trap should hold them inside for a bit, and when they actually do break through, it will detonate the grenade, which will make a field that reduces all friction to zero in the area. It's really funny.”

             
Anansi came up short as he entered the next room. A dozen Secret Service agents filled the room, sitting in seats facing away from the trio. They watched a movie on a television, an animated movie that Anansi recognized as Megamind.

             
He couldn't help but laugh.

             
A stewardess entered the room from the opposite side, pushing a cart of drinks and snacks. She stopped in mid-step, seeing Anansi across from her. She pointed, dumbfounded. Agents who noticed her turned to look, drawing the attention of more, until the movie was forgotten. Anansi smiled and dropped a pair of grenades into his hands.

             
“We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way,” he announced to the room as the movie entered a fight scene. The agents all shot out of their chairs, drawing handguns and pointing them at Anansi. Anansi's display filled with red triangles, marking each target.

             
Time slowed down as adrenaline hit his bloodstream. Anansi dove forward, tossing the grenades upward. His display showed Denise and Kay moving into the room behind him. Bullets started flying around him, trajectories altering just enough that those few that would have struck him sped harmlessly past. The grenades exploded, filling the room with light and sound that was automatically filtered out by Anansi's helmet. He tucked into a roll and came to his feet at the end of the room, beside two agents. He struck one man in his chest with an open palm, discharging electricity into his body and sending him falling to the ground in a pile of failing limbs.

             
The other man attempted to lash out with a kick. Anansi trapped the leg against his chest with an elbow and pulled the man off his feet, delivering a kick to the stomach that blew the breath out of the man. A third agent placed his gun against the back of Anansi's helmet and fired, but Anansi was still moving. The bullet ricocheted off of his helmet as Anansi swept the man's legs from under him and drove him to the ground with an elbow to the chest. He felt ribs break and his combat readout listed the man as disabled. For good measure, he shocked the man.

             
Anansi stood, ready to face more agents, only to see Kay and Denise standing back to back with no more targets. Anansi turned to the stewardess and held out his hand. “Mind if I get an apple juice?” The stewardess blinked and handed Anansi a cup of apple juice with one trembling hand. Anansi tapped his helmet in a salute. He patted her on the shoulder, which made her flinch, and proceeded on past her.

             
Anansi climbed a staircase leading up into the top deck. He bumped into a man in a pilot's uniform, spilling the apple juice on his shirt. The man started to apologize by reflex and was interrupted by Anansi grabbing him and twisting his arm behind his back, pressing him against the wall.

             
“You a pilot?” Anansi said, his voice hissing from his speakers. The man nodded dumbly, looking over his shoulder at Anansi. “Good. I've got a job for you, and if you do it, you will make it so everyone on this plane survives the day.” Anansi pulled the man's pistol out of its holster and tossed it away before shoving the man back towards the cockpit. “You're going to land the plane early.”

             
“Wh-why?” the pilot asked, looking in the direction of his weapon. Anansi shrugged and pushed the man again.

             
“Because I'm about to go fight a few supers and I don't want Archangel throwing me out into the sky. That and I don't really want to have all of you on my conscience if the fight breaks the plane.” The pilot opened the door to the cockpit and Anansi shoved him in. The other pilot looked up from the equipment, startled, and drew his own weapon. Anansi took a bullet to the chest, his shield failing to divert the shot enough to miss, driving him back a step.

             
Denise darted in the opening created and slapped the gun out of the pilot's hand and drove an armored fist through the intercom system. She shook her hand and nodded to Anansi, who returned the gesture. “You're getting sloppy,” she said teasingly.

             
“Yeah, probably. We should go back for the presidential group. No doubt they're aware of the issue.” Denise nodded and the two teleported.

             
They reemerged in a flash of light at the end of the hallway the conference room was in. Archangel was suspended in the air, spinning lazily in the air, wings closed, his face red as a tomato. Shards of door were scattered down the hallway, sliding as if across ice. He spun to face Anansi and Denise and his face grew even redder. Kay appeared on the far side of the hallway. Anansi felt her mirth from the link and rolled his eyes.

             
“I thought you said it was an anti-friction grenade,” Denise said, indicating Archangel spinning in the air futilely.

             
“It kinda is. It creates a field of, actually it looks like it's wearing off. I'll tell you later.” Anansi darted forward as Archangel dropped to the ground. He planted a booted foot on the hero's face and launched himself into the conference room, duster billowing behind him.