Project Northwoods (81 page)

“No. Too many innocents,” she told herself, eyeing the group of mercenaries.

None
.

“In the relative term,” she corrected.

Examine. Insides.

The squadron moved slightly, and Zombress felt that the energy had changed. She stepped onto the lip of the building. “Maybe next time.” She extended the middle and index finger on her right hand, then proceeded to draw a complex symbol in the air. “What do you think, black or red?” The voice had slithered back into the recesses of her brain, banished by her willpower. Meanwhile, the SERAPHIM were joined by their leader and cohort, dragging Steven and Morgan out by cuffed hands. Her left hand made a silver indentation in the air, right in the middle of the hieroglyphic she carved with her right hand. She knelt down, nearly off the edge of the building, then leapt through the symbols.

The moment she passed through them, she was rocketing at high speed toward the middle of the mercenaries. In the middle of the journey, she felt the costume she was wearing transition to a loose red leather outfit with a black scorpion running the length of her back. After all, such a monochromatic meeting needed a splash of excitement.

She landed, shattering the pavement. She stood upright, the members of SERAPHIM taking a step backward at her incursion. A smirk crossed her now ruby red lips. “Who’s first?”

The mercenaries behind her charged. Zombress backflipped, passing between them effortlessly. Feet on solid ground, she pinwheeled forward and slammed her foot down on one combatant’s head, sending him thundering to the pavement. The other turned only to have the Queen of the Dead snag him by the neck and toss him into another of his waiting comrades. She snapped a look toward another squad member, who trained his gun on her.

His trigger finger twitched, and her hand shot upwards to carve out her shield glyph, the bullets smashing into the invisible wall. The slap of rubber against concrete behind her alerted her to an attack, which she countered by falling to the ground and dropping the protective shell at the same time; the rounds intended for her smashed into the would-be assailant behind her. From her prone position, she cradled her chin in her hand. “Three, zero, Zombress!”

She slipped away in a quick roll as three SERAPHIM ran to her. Now she was on her feet, carving another symbol in the air. The three closed in as she cocked her hand back. “
Heart breaker!
” she shouted, swinging her fist forward. The floating glyph shattered into three pieces when she struck it, each shooting toward an individual mercenary. The impact of the blow threw them backward into the trucks before they thumped to the ground, unmoving.

The last gun-toting member of the team moved into position. Zombress sprinted toward him, already making symbols in the air as he opened fire. Her perception of time seemed to slow, and there they were, the speeding bullets reduced to moderately aggressive skipping stones. Without breaking stride, she leapt and landed on the first round to reach her. Jumping off that one, she landed on another before leaping once more and landing, feet first, on the mercenary’s face. Time snapped to its normal pace, and the poor dope’s face was crushed under the blow. He was sent to the ground, pinned between the pavement and Zombress’s boots.

She smiled, cocked an eyebrow, and stepped off her victim’s face before turning toward the stunned commander. The entire event must have lasted less than ten seconds, not to mention that last bit was so fast no one could have processed it. Zombress started toward Morgan and Steven, the commander pushing them backward in response. Heroes were beginning to converge on the action. “Well, I’ve had my workout for the day,” Zombress said. She stuck out her hand, expectantly. “I’ll be taking my companions, now.”

“Queen of the Dead,” the commander snarled, taking her scarf off. “Arbiter will be most pleased when I bring you in as well.”

Zombress cocked her head in irritation. “Someone’s in the mood for a little girl-on-girl, then?”

The woman’s free hand flicked up to her ear. “Thanatos here. I require backup.” A smile cracked her face, making her eyeless visage seem all the more alien. “I think I’ll gag you first.”

The villainess was unimpressed. “Kinky.”

The scarf snapped out, faster than Zombress anticipated, and raked across her face. Thanatos carried through and swept the weaponized neckwear out again; this time, the intended victim saw it coming and ducked under it. While the woman was still trying to carry through, Zombress leapt at her, punching her across the face. Their flesh met, and a flash of agony ripped through the villainess’s hand, and she staggered backward.

Without a pause, Thanatos lunged at her, swinging blows at her head and chest. Any time she blocked or countered and skin contacted skin, the immediate area would flare up in agony. Zombress needed space, and, in a move she quickly regretted, grabbed the other woman’s armor and headbutted her on the nose, shattering her opponent’s face but making her stagger in pain from both the toxic skin and the helmet and eye-wear combo Thanatos was wearing.

The commander took the opportunity to swing her weapon in an arc. It snaked around Zombress’s neck, swooping around before the blades bit into her flesh. Thanatos yanked, throwing Zombress to the ground in a spiral as blood sprayed from the freshly opened wounds. She got onto her knees as the SERAPHIM swung the scarf out again. The villain’s hand shot out, grabbing the fabric and yanking Thanatos toward her kneeling form.

Zombress leapt from her crouched position, fist up, aiming toward the commander’s chin. The blow was forceful enough to flip the woman in the air, and she collapsed to the ground on her belly. The villain rose to her feet, clutching the wounds in her neck. She reared back and slammed a boot into the prone woman’s side, sending her onto her back. Before Thanatos could move, Zombress brought her foot onto the SERAPHIM’s neck. Immediately, the woman struggled against the weight on her throat. “I’m a bit distracted at the moment, what with the blood and all.” Silver strands of something were worming their way around the hand she clamped to herself. “But don’t take this as a sign of not having earned my full attention.” A moment later, she reared back and firmly planted her foot down, finishing the fight.

Zombress pulled her hand away from her newly-repaired throat and flicked the blood free from it. Other Bestowed had it easy with their healing – she had to concentrate on it if she was conscious. Casually, she regarded the scarf still wrapped around her other hand. “You are going to make a sewer crew very happy one day,” she mused. The villain wound the scarf around her neck for safe keeping as she crossed to Morgan and Steven, glaring at them.

“Sorry,” Morgan muttered as Zombress pulled apart the zip-ties binding her hands.

“What were you thinking?” Zombress scolded, all mirth gone from her voice. “I told you to stay put!”

“I had nothing to…” Steven started as his rescuer turned to him to free his wrists.

“Shut up,” Zombress snapped. She turned toward Morgan. “If we get separated, head to the Super Villains’ Guild.”

“What?” Morgan asked as Zombress began to carve symbols into the ground. “Why?”

“I need answers. Answers I intended to get alone.” Zombress was growing aware of more eyes on her as even more heroes were gathering, gossiping. “But since you two blundered out of the safe house, I have no choice but to drag you along to the Mob, don’t I?” It was only a matter of time before an onlooker would attempt to overtake them, heroic embargo be damned.

“What is your deal, Zombress? We’re involved in this thing, too.” Steven huffed in annoyance, his eyes scanning the growing throng.

“
She’s
a valuable part of this thing.” She glared at him as she finished the symbol in the ground. “You’re just an idiot tagging along.” She stood upright and slammed her foot into the ground, making the symbol glow brightly. “
Song of the Dark Mother
!” she shouted, flourishing her arms toward the sky. The greenish orb wafted from the sigil, then burst.

By the time any of the heroes recovered, they would be long gone.

Thanatos had held onto consciousness long enough to hear that they were retreating to the Super Villains’ Guild. She may have lost them now, but she would find them again… not only the Queen of the Dead, but the Italian Mob and who knows who else. The momentary defeat would grant them the ultimate tactical advantage.

THE MAGICIAN

ARBITER STARED OUT THE WINDOW OF HIS OFFICE,
watching the heroes below meandered through the streets, aimless and lost. It would have been discouraging if any of them had managed to distinguish themselves. They were children of an age of privilege, devoid of any true struggle or definition. He sneered as memories of his public humiliation in the eighties surfaced. These heroes would learn to feel the sting of their lives being ripped away from them, if only to have their resolution tested. He had no interest in those who were heroes ‘just because,’ the precedent which had been set with institutionalization after he had destroyed Desecrator. Heroism was a calling, not a career.

That day of mortification would soon be forgotten. After he was triumphant, the stain of villainy would be scrubbed from New York once and for all.

The squeak of floorboards behind him betrayed his new commanders’ growing impatience. He looked over his shoulder, catching the three SERAPHIM in his peripheral vision. “Are you sure about this intelligence?” he asked, directing the question toward the tallest of the three.

Thanatos stepped forward, nodding. “Yes, Arbiter. I stake my life on it.” Her shattered lip hadn’t quite stitched itself together, the red blotch angry enough to distract from the rest of her visible face.

Arbiter’s scowl turned toward something approaching a smile. He turned to face them fully. “There is no need for such grandiose gestures.” Skirting the desk, he approached the mercenaries. “Have any of your scouts confirmed this?”

“They’re on their way,” Athena answered, cutting off Thanatos.

Arbiter approved of their eagerness, their ability to work together yet compete for the same goal. “Your insistence on going after the highest probability targets alone displays a cloying lack of tactics.” The women didn’t flinch, but remained in their rigid posture. “Do you care to refute this?”

Siren snapped forward half a step. “The villains that Athena and I approached were Tier One and should have been no match for us. Unforeseen elements prevented me from successfully apprehending Jack Cleese and Weston Marsh.” She cast a glance at her comrade. “I cannot say the same for Athena.”

“The bitch took me by surprise!” Athena snapped, turning toward Siren. It was a passionate gesture, the result of camaraderie gone awry.

“Enough!” Arbiter growled. Athena slowly returned to her position, her eyes barely moving off of Siren’s face. “The speed with which you discovered the malcontents is impressive, and had you succeeded in their capture, we could very well have ended this struggle without bloodshed.”

“We understand the implications, sir,” Thanatos said.

Arbiter turned back toward the window. “We have been brought to this impasse by villains. They have given us no recourse.” The pause was thick with tension as his fists clenched. “If what you say is true, Thanatos, we have the most likely location of where the vermin shall retreat in order to organize further murders. Once your men confirm the location, all patrols need to be pulled from the area.” He turned back to the assembled SERAPHIM. “I hope the deviance from orders you displayed is not endemic to those under your command.”

“Understood, High Consul,” Thanatos said with a nod. The three of them snapped a salute, to which Arbiter responded with a nod. Quickly, they turned and exited, Zealot waiting patiently for them to leave before pushing his way into the room.

The door shut behind him of its own accord before he saluted Arbiter. “Sir, Overseer has finished his diagnostic scan of Freedom’s Sword and its integral components in the Guild.” Arbiter nodded, solemnly, as though the words barely registered. “It is ready to fire at full capacity within the hour.”