Blackjack Villain (70 page)

A plasma bolt slammed into my chest, and it merely exploded harmlessly, shredding my shirt. The weapon couldn’t hurt me, so I stood up, and charged Brigade right back. His eyes widened, not in fear, but in excitement, and we crashed into each other.

Brigade was strong, made even stronger by his formidable armor. The servos and controls strained, but he was my equal in a shoving match with his weapon as the focus. The plasma cannon was a sturdy gun, almost four feet long and thick with metal, and covered in scratches and dings from many battles. But it was paper in our hands, and tore to pieces. I clasped his right wrist and he gripped mine and we pushed, our faces inches from each other, spittle and sweat spraying across the narrow divide. He went to head butt me, but I swung him, almost making him lose his balance, so he thought otherwise and we continued our wrestling match.

His eyes flashed down, and before I could follow, he inched sideways slightly, and matching him, my left foot slipped on a bare patch of concrete. He pushed me backwards and I stumbled away from him, giving him an opening.

But instead of charging in, Brigade dove out of the way shouting; “Paper, end this motherfucker.”

A fellow atop a nearby building, wearing armor even heavier than his bosses’ and wielding a massive rocket launcher fired at me and my world turned to red and white. I flew through the air, propelled by the sheer force of the explosion, and careened against the wall of a far building, collapsing part of the structure and sliding down to the floor.

“Deadliest weapon in the world; a Marine and his rifle,” Brigade said, recovering first. As I wearily came to my feet, he drew another weapon, a small pistol, and fired at me, but instead of a bullet or plasma bolt, it shot a thick laser beam. I expected it to slice my arm off, or tear a hole right through me, but it did nothing of the sort, instead leaving a small red dot on my chest.

“Hit him again!” Brigade shouted, and then I knew it wasn’t a weapon, it was a target designator for his rocket launcher companion on the rooftop.

Another rocket raced towards me, and I had no time to do anything. As I scrambled to find cover, the missile crashed into me, and again I was engulfed by fire and thrown into the air.

When I came to my feet, Brigade was running closer, as I was obscured by smoke and dust. He saw me and smiled, aiming his laser at me again. My shirt was in shreds, only a few strings across my chest, so I ripped it off and stood tall atop a mound of rubble.

“Come on,” I taunted the rocket launcher guy. “Hit me again!”

And he did. Again I was rocked and sent soaring across the island, but this time we were farther down the hill, and I reckoned too far from the range of Brigade’s associate to give him line of sight.

As I expected, Brigade came closer to re-target me, but this time I was ready, and sprung my trap. I came to my feet with a huge boulder, and as soon as I saw his armored form approaching through the smoke, I let lose my improvised missile, slamming it right into his chest.

Brigade collapsed and I was on him in a second, knocking him down and putting my right knee on his chest.

“You can give it, buddy,” I said, rearing back to clock him, “But can you take it?”

He screamed, covering his face with his free hand as I started coming forward. So frantic was his fear that I held my punch. I looked down at my other hand, which had him pinned as I straddled him, and I saw that the grip had crumpled the armor, tearing it partially off his chest, revealing his muscled torso.

“You win!” he screamed. “You win!”

I released him and stood, realizing the awful truth. He was strong, and skilled, bearing many years of training in all forms of combat. But outside of his armor, he was a man. Had I struck him in his unprotected face, I would have killed him instantly.

“Call your boys off,” I demanded.

He nodded and ordered his troops to surrender over his radio.

“I thought you were going to kill me there, man.”

I smiled, “I thought I was too.”

* * *

It took us awhile to gather together the remnants of The Sentinels. As it turned out, they were marginal supers like Brigade, augmented with powered armor and heavy weaponry, made deadly by years of training and coordination. But they were otherwise regular men and women. A few were injured, including one who had tussled with Mr. Haha and received the working end of a rusted old katana through his armor, but they had several medics to handle their wounds, and the man looked like he ultimately would live.

We had a brief respite, and even though the fight against The Sentinels was brief, it had taken a toll. I was already tired and had to commandeer a canteen from one of our enemies to quench my thirst. I’d been shot, blown up and beat up, and while my skin was tough enough to handle the battering, I was ready for a cold one and a long nap on the couch. I was covered in grime and dirt, and my clothes were holding on by shreds, and I had to find a replacement t-shirt. Again, my combat boots were fine, and would live to see another fight.

Cool Hand was hit with shrapnel as he and Zundergrub attacked the opposite flank, and his wound, while minor, bled quite a bit along his midsection. He used his temporal powers to contain the bleeding, then we got one of The Sentinel’s medics on the job, and they put a dermal patch on the wound, securing it with a strong tape the resembled a clear Saran wrap.

Doctor Zundergrub was fine, but his yellow imp was dead, and in his grief, he showed more emotion than I had thought him even capable of. He was actually crying, though he tried to hide his grief from me.

Mr. Haha had taken a beating, but you wouldn’t tell from his upbeat attitude. His kimono was strewn with bullet holes, and singed to black on the back, and one of his rabbit ears was half-shot off.

“Scratch another for the Impossibles,” Haha said.

Cool Hand, getting the wrap around his midsection by a pretty Sentinel medic pulled out a case of cigars from his backpack and plopped one in his mouth.

“THE IMPOSSIBLES,” he said boasting. “I like that. You like that, angel?” Cool asked the medic, but she shrugged and finished her task. “You, B?”

I shrugged.

“I like it,” he said with a tone of finality, as if it was decided. “Team has to have a cool name to work.”

The Sentinels were almost twenty, and while I had beaten their leader, Zundergrub, Cool Hand and Mr. Haha had beaten the rest of the team. Later I would find out, that while I was squaring off with Brigade and the fellow he called Paper, Haha charged the entire defensive perimeter The Sentinels erected after the fall of the building, and gone weapon hunting, using his katana to destroy armor and weapon alike. While distracted by the flashing blade of the whirlwind rabbit man, Cool had used his temporal bubbles to slow most of the defenders, while Zundergrub’s yellow monster imp drew the fire of those that remained, until they could be suppressed by Mr. Haha.

A quick plan, hatched together in desperation, and we were once again victorious. Cool Hand was right to be cocky, and I didn’t care to ruin his good mood with reminders of his fear as the fight began. We hadn’t lost a single fight, not yet.

But we had lost.

I don’t know why at that moment, watching Cool puffing on an unlit cigar and Zundergrub grieve over his dead pet, and hearing Haha describe the fight, I thought of Influx. It’d been only a few days since her death, but it seemed a lifetime ago since I had held her in my arms as her blood and life ebbed away.

In essence, that was the moment we ceased to be The Impossibles, or whatever Cool Hand thought to call us. We were a bunch of guys, with some slight relationships, trying to survive whatever came next. Had she lived, things would have been different. We’d be cogent, a tight team. She was a good leader, and would have pushed Retcon’s agenda harder, keeping us closer to the line. But she died that night in Germany, at the hands of Gentleman Shivver’s terrible weapon, and we were forced to go on without her.

Her death had changed everything.

There are a few moments in our lives, seminal turning points, where our decisions one way or the other lead us into completely different paths. Influx’s death was one of those moments, leading me to doubt what I was becoming, fear it even. The experience of knowing Apogee the last few days had changed everything, irrevocably, but the passing of Influx had set the stage.

Little did I know that another such moment, one that would change my life forever, was around the corner.

* * *

Not too long after we had rounded up The Sentinels, and secured them in a far corner of the island, a gleaming silver plane flew overhead. Cool Hand was the first to spot it, but it was Apogee who identified the sleek ship.

“That’s Epic’s ride,” she said her demeanor suddenly turning grim. “The Superb Seven are here.”

“If you want to go back to Retcon’s base...” I said, letting it linger in the air.

She shook her head, and walked away from me, returning to our defensive location.

Epic was falling for our trap, landing his extravagant craft exactly where we wanted, on the only open field near us.

Behind us, in the area protected by Baron Blitzkrieg and his Dogs of War, gunfire broke out, combined with some heavy explosions. I was tempted to head that way, to see how they were doing, but the sight of Epic’s silver ship hovering down for a landing gave me pause. I walked after Apogee, leaving Mr. Haha, Zundergrub and Cool Hand as they secured The Sentinels with special manacles that Haha had provided for us.

“Hey,” I shouted, rushing towards her. But even though she was only walking, she was able to keep me at bay with her speed power.

I finally reached her as Epic’s plane was starting to land. She crouched behind our make shift bunker, where we would lay in wait until the trap was ready. I jumped in but she shot me an angry glance, as if I should leave her alone.

Like an idiot, as I always do when I’m nervous or unsure, I joked.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a good costume maker, huh?” I said, mocking the fact that I was wearing my second shirt of the day, and my pants were torn and dirty. She, on the other hand, wore a true super costume, and while it was partially damaged, it had fared much better than my off-the-shelf clothing.

She glared at me but slowly her face softened. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Well, when this is done, we need to exchange numbers, you know? Because this whole ‘fighting almost naked’ thing is getting old,” I said motioning to my body.

Her smile was forced, and she didn’t bother looking at me, instead gazing at the landing craft. The ship extended her landing gear, and gently touched down.

“Madelyne, if you have any power over yourself, and you want to take this opportunity to escape, you should.”

Apogee shook her head, and I could tell she was fighting back her tears.

“You didn’t betray them,” I said, trying to follow her thoughts. “It was Zundergrub that-”

“It wasn’t Zundergrub.”

I sat back and nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, crouching at the lip of our bunker, her gaze intent on the landing craft. “Whenever I’m near him, he has some sort of hold over me, I don’t understand it. Even now, I feel his will upon me. And yes, when he told me to help you, it was an order I couldn’t...”

“You don’t have to explain,” I started.

“...that I had no way to avoid. But his power runs deeper, Dale. It’s something...”

“I’ll get him to end it,” I promised. “I’ll crush his fucking skull if I have to.”

She shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks. I came closer, to hold her, to consoler her, but she changed her posture, stopping me in my tracks.

“Even through all that,” she continued. “I knew that I had to get to the bottom of what you guys were up to, of what Retcon was up to. That was my mission, and Zundergrub’s power couldn’t stop me from that. But in spite of all that I stayed for another reason, Dale.”

Madelyne closed her eyes, and wiped her tears, then gazed at me in a way I couldn’t fathom, nor explain. She held me with her green eyes, gently, like one would a baby.

“Like you, I was becoming something...” she paused, struggling for the word.

“Dark?”

“Ugly,” she corrected. “And it wasn’t just Pulsewave’s death. It was something from before. I was becoming like them. Like Epic and Superdynamic. Arrogant and pompous...and empty.”

I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant.

“And now it all comes full circle,” she said. “I have to face them, you see?”

I nodded, “I feel the same way.”

Apogee looked back at Epic’s ship, which had now landed and the main hatch was swiveling down, turning into a stairwell for the Superb Seven to debark.

“San Felipe, you said?”

I laughed.

Chapter 28

It took Epic almost five precious minutes to debark and start up the hill. He and his Superbs came towards our position as if on a Sunday stroll, more concerned with the cool group walk than whatever they were facing.

While they weren’t expediting, I noticed that they were no longer “Seven” (or “Six” since Apogee had crossed the line). Epic had replaced Apogee with four others, three that I recognized and one that was a stranger to me. He wasn’t all that clever, and for certain not in a hurry, but Epic wasn’t stupid. We’d handed him a terrible loss, on live television no less, and now he intended to come out on top.