Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (47 page)

Shit.  Redline was basically
invulnerable.  They needed someone who was ALSO basically invulnerable like
Gurrier or Meg over there to deal with him.  Poacher was tough as nails, and
crazy as hell, but he was in no way invulnerable.  Highly resistant to damage
and an extremely powerful member of the Consortium, yeah, but NOT invulnerable. 
That fight was NOT going to go well for him, especially since now he had just lost
his primary weapon.

Dammit, Syd…  Be careful…  Please God…please
be careful…

Wyatt coughed.  “Shit…he’s going to
blame me for that isn’t he?”

“Only if he lives, honey.”  She didn’t
have time to worry about whether or not Poacher was happy with which hero card
he was dealt in the shuffle.  Syd would have to take care of it himself for the
time being, she needed to focus on keeping Wyatt alive.  Not that she could
provide Poacher much assistance anyway.  Redline was WAY out of her league.  He
was out of
most
of the Consortium’s league, in fact.

She brushed a strand of wet hair
away from Wyatt’s bruised face.  “Don’t worry.  You’re going to be fine.  Just
fine.  I called the Mortician, and he’ll be here soon.”

Wyatt gave a raspy laugh and winced
in pain.  “Any…any other time, telling someone you called them a mortician,
would
not
be something which inspired much confidence in their long-term
health.”

Now that Redline had cleared a
path, several more heroes appeared in front of them, preparing to attack.  Blackguard
left his place standing guard behind her, and smiled.  He pulled out his sword,
and yanked the chain he was holding.  “I think it’s time we showed Wyatt here
why you’re called
The Chef
, Denny.”  He unhooked the chain off of the
lizard man’s collar and pointed to the group of heroes.  “
Bon appetit
.”

The reptilian villain eyed the men
for a moment, licking his lips with his forked tongue.  Then he let out a
shrill scream, baring his rows of razor-sharp teeth.  The scaly fan around his
neck extended and he charged at the heroes.  The men screamed and fled back
down the street as Blackguard joined in the pursuit.  “A-HA!  Let’s send these
landlubbers to Davy Jones, Chef! 
HAR-HAR-HAR!”

Mortician arrived a few minutes
later and began trying to tend to Wyatt’s innumerable wounds.  He frowned as he
tried to listen to Wyatt’s breathing over the sounds of battle.  “I’m starting
to think it wooooould be easier tooooo just let yooooou die and bring yooooou
back as a zooooombie, Fabricatooooor.  Yooooou have moooore broooken booones
than intact oooones at this pooooint.”

Wyatt laughed, and Harlot tried to
clean up his face with an alcohol wipe.  “How you feeling, honey?”

“Wonderful.”  He winced.  “Can’t
you tell?”  She kissed him and he smiled.  “Feel better now though.”  He took
her hand.  “I love you, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”  She kissed his
hand.  “Not as much as I love you.”

Mortician made a retching sound as
he filled a syringe with an unknown substance and injected it into Wyatt’s arm. 
“Yuck!  Let’s remember that there are ooooother peoooople here, huh?  I
doooon’t need toooo hear your sappy nooooonsense.”

The sounds of crying filled the
intersection and she turned her head to see Guilt Trip sitting on a park bench
with a heroine dressed in yellow and red crouched at his feet in a fetal
position.  Harlot recognized her as “Judy,” one half of the heroic team of
“Punch and Judy.”  Personally, Harlot had never understood that, as the woman’s
name was NOT Judy and thus it made no sense.  Marshall was casually writing
something down on a note pad.  “And how do you feel about the lives you’ve
ruined, Scottie?”  The heroine blubbered something which she couldn’t make out,
and Marshall shook his head sadly.  “Oh, but you HAVE, don’t you see?  All of
this is just like the ice cream you stole from your cousin Mary when you were
seven and got all over the pretty dress your mother worked
so hard
to
buy for you.  It’s.  All.  Your.  Fault. 
All of it.
  You’ve
disappointed your parents, the city, and brought nothing but shame to
yourself.  Shame and
guilt.
”  The woman continued to cry and said
something which caused Marshall to smile evilly.  “Why yes…I suppose suicide
would
be an answer, wouldn’t it?”  He shook his head in mock regret.  “But it would
take someone FAR braver than YOU to go forward with such a noble act…Even if it
WOULD end your torment…  Let you be FREE from the pain you’ve brought on
yourself and the world…”

Wyatt shook his head.  “I don’t
know how he
ever
lost his license.”

She scowled, raising her voice so
that Guilt Trip could hear her.  “Don’t you drive her to suicide unless she’s
REALLY evil, Marshall! 
It’s not right!”

The other man sighed elaborately
and closed his notebook with a snap, rolling his eyes.  “
Very well
. 
Let’s go get you a cup of coffee, Scottie, and you can rethink the choices
you’ve made in your life.”

He half carried, half dragged the
wailing woman from the scene, and Harlot went back to worrying about Wyatt.  A
flying hero suddenly swooped in at them, razor sharp talons extended.  She
threw herself over Wyatt to keep him from getting injured any further, and
grabbed for her grappling hook gun again.  She fired it off and the cord
wrapped around and around the man.  The strong rope became tangled in his wings
and he collided into the side of a building and disappeared in an explosion of
glass.  The gun was ripped from her hands in the process however, so now she
had no weapon.  Great.

Mortician ignored the battle and
poked at her shoulder as she lay on top of Wyatt.  “Yoooou’re gooooing to have
toooo get oooooff oooof my patient if yooooou want him toooo live.”  He began
sewing up a large cut on Wyatt’s neck.  “Remember…I said ‘IF.’”

A minute later, something large flew
into the intersection and smashed into several of the Consortium foot-soldiers. 
She recognized the hero, but didn’t remember what he called himself.  He was some
C-list guy from Jersey.  He smashed a huge rocky hand down, and crushed one of
the men and tossed another through a nearby building.  Several people and some
children fled from the gaping hole in the building’s wall and the rock monster
focused on them, preparing to strike.  Usurper jumped onto the creature’s back,
throwing himself onto the crazed hero before he could harm them.  “Come on,
man!  They’re KIDS!  That’s no way to…”

Whatever else he was going to say
was cut off as the hero raised both rocky fists and smashed them down onto
Brett.  She brought her hands up to her face in horror!  JESUS!  Brett!  He was
dead!  Oh God, everyone was dying!  They were all going to die!

Wyatt coughed again, looking
suddenly very worried.  “…You should get out of here.  Right now.”  He looked
up at her, his face ashen.  “GO.”

Mortician shook his head.  “She can
gooooo, but yooou’re nooot gooooing anywhere until I stabilize yooou and find a
gurney.”

She shook her head at Wyatt.  “I
won’t leave you!”

The rock monster continued to smash
the remains of Brett’s body into the street.  Her eyes began to fill with
tears…Poor Brett…He hadn’t even wanted to come today.

Wyatt kissed her hand.  “Hey…it’ll
be okay.  It was quick.  You.  Need.  To. 
Go
.”

A new figure walked into the
intersection; Narrator stood in front of the rock man, and looked down at
Brett’s remains.  His calm, even voice carried over the sounds of the fight and
the rain.  “Jamie looked down at the remains of his fallen friend and the
monster standing over him, and felt himself fill with rage.  A blinding rage he
had not felt since the summer of ’94, when he…”

The monster swung a fist out and
smashed it into Jamie’s face, sending him sprawling.  It advanced on him and he
backpedaled, holding his hand up to his jaw.  It was obviously broken.  Which
meant that he wouldn’t be speaking.  Which meant that he was now basically
powerless, as he couldn’t narrate anything to help himself escape.  SHIT.  She
got to her feet and prepared to go help him, but Wyatt grabbed her arm.  She
stared down at him for an instant, preparing to yell at him for trying to keep
her from helping her friend. 

He coughed.  “Help me up.  I’ll
distract him; you find that cannon that Poacher uses as a gun and circle around
to….”

Whatever his plan had been, it was
drowned by the rock man’s agonized screams of pain.  Her head whipped back
around to see Jamie resting against a newspaper stand, hands moving a mile a
minute as he was signing something.  She had no idea what he was saying in sign
language, but whatever it was that he was silently narrating, it was hurting
the rock man like hell.  Mortician saw her confusion and shook his head.  He started
taping up Wyatt’s head.  “All I can translate is “’
Pain
.’”

Another man ran through the
intersection, his body on fire.  Narrator turned his head and watched him race by
disinterestedly, not bothering to stop his narration signing attack.  A moment
later, flames arched over Narrator’s head and blasted at a shadow.  The shadow
screamed and revealed itself to be a man dressed in a black cloak.  The man
screamed again as the flames lapped at his clothes, and he ran from the scene
dropping a long knife which he had been about to stab Narrator with.  Multifarious
appeared, dressed in a gorilla suit, a tutu and carrying a flamethrower. 
Narrator looked behind him at the spot where his attacker had been concealed,
and then nodded thanks to Mull, hands still moving rapidly. 

The masked villain casually
strolled down the street towards Harlot, carrying the form of that OCD guy, who
looked like he had received a beating from someone.  Mull had apparently
rescued him from the other heroes, or perhaps had been the one who beat him in
the first place, and was now dragging him away to finish him off.  Personally,
Harlot thought it was the former.  That guy didn’t seem so bad.  A little high
strung, but certainly not beyond all hope.

She waved at them weakly.  “Hey,
Mull.”

The figure shook his/her head and
dumped the man down onto the street like a sack of flour.  “I am not
Multifarious.”  Dramatic pause.  “Today I am…am The…The…”  Mull stopped and
looked at Wyatt for help on a name for his new look.

Wyatt shrugged.  “No clue, man. 
Pick an easier costume next time.”  His brow compressed in thought, his eyes dazed
from whatever it was that Mortician had given him.  “How about the Go-grilla? 
The Bunn-erina? 
Gone Bananas?  
Wait…GOT IT!”  He gave a hacking cough. 
“
Pli-ape
.  You know, like the ballet move called ‘plié’ only done by an
ape!  Yep.  You’re The Pli-ape.”  He tried to clap his hands together in
triumph, but winced as it wrenched his dislocated shoulder and moved his
wounded chest.  “Shit, that hurt.  But that’s what you are today though, Mull.”

Mortician used tweezers to remove a
shard of glass of near Wyatt’s eye.  “If yoooou want toooo be blind,
Fabricatoooor, by all means, dooo that again.”

Harlot shook her head in amazement
at Wyatt’s love of coming up with villain names in the middle of their struggle
for life.  “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

He smiled.  “Just trying to help
you guys out, that’s all.”  He paused, his speech slurred and far away.  “Plus,
I’m kind of flying high on pain meds right now.  This stuff is
woooooonderful
…”

Keystone came sliding into the
scene propelled by some unknown force.  A second later, a hero dressed in
yellow ninja garb bounced towards him, ignoring the carnage already playing out
around them.  He raised the sword over Keystone’s fallen form, but Vendetta
tackled the man before he could bring the sword down.  The ninja kicked him in
the face, and punched Keystone in the throat as he stood up.  The man turned
and plunged his katana into Vendetta’s torso, but Vinny grabbed his hand before
he could pull the sword back out, trapping the man.  The ninja tugged on his
weapon several more times trying to dislodge his hand, and Keystone used the distraction
to swing his metal nightstick at the man’s head.  The blow connected and the
ninja fell.  Keystone leapt on top of him and brought the weapon down several
more times on the ninja’s skull, then spit on his bloody corpse and
straightened his police cap. 

Vinny slowly pulled the sword from
his body and staggered down the street towards Mortician.  “Um, Danny?  Got a wee
problem…here…mate…”

He collapsed and Mortician swore
and rushed off to see what he could do.  Behind him, a car barreled down on Keystone,
hit him and carried him off around the corner as he clung to its hood.  Bobbi
followed behind a second later in one of the Excessive Force’s old style police
cars, firing her service revolver out the window at the driver of the other
vehicle.

Harlot glanced up at Mull.  “Can
you please go help Keystone and Bobbi?  You can cut them off if you go down 3
^rd
.” 
Her eyes fell to the corner of an overhang above them.  “Look!  There are some
bees!  Use them to sting someone!”

Mull lowered the flamethrower in
confusion, and unslung it from his/her shoulders.  “
Today
I am Pli-Ape.” 
The facemask tilted to the side in an effort to understand what Harlot was
saying.  “Pli-ape doesn’t talk to bees; you’re thinking of
Hive Mind
.”

“…Oh.  Okay.”

He reached over to a parking meter
and ripped it from the cement with one hand, and then smacked it against his
ape paw glove like a club.  “Pli-Ape strongest monkey in jungle.”  He/she
pointed to the flamethrower.  “Like man’s fire.”  He/she pointed to the tutu.
“And…
ballet
.”

The masked villain took off down an
alley on the opposite side of the street and disappeared.  A moment later, the
whine of a jet engine filled the street and Wyatt’s eyes flew open, and he
tried to move his head to look behind them.  The sound got louder.  He sat
still; waiting.  The source of the noise rounded the corner and Wyatt quickly
formed a bar of psychic energy and tossed it at the Liberty Cycle as it tore
down the street.  The piece of telekinetic rebar flew into the spokes of the
cycle’s wheel, hit the fork, and the bike flipped, tossing its stunned rider
over the handlebars and down the street.  The hero tumbled into the side of a
building; unconscious.