Team Omega (42 page)

Wong had nerve, Hope had to admit.  “What I did was nothing more than what everyone did, before you took over the country,” he said.  “Lobbyists have been seeking to convince politicians to support them ever since the day Washington was founded, in exchange for campaign contributions.  You say that these are bribes; I say they’re the cost of doing business.”

He sat down and waited.

“You are quite right; what you did is no different to every other lobbyist in Washington,” Hope said.   At least this case was fairly simple.  “However, it is our intention to stamp such practices out, root and branch.  The fact that you realised that you could go further in your competition-crushing practices than anyone else doesn't mitigate your guilt.  I sentence you to ten years hard labour in a work camp in the Congo.”

There was a pause while Triple A removed the prisoner before the reporters started muttering into their microphones, recording their commentary for the news.  Hope could hear them; some were desperately twisting their words to avoid having to condemn what he’d done, while others were bluntly informing the public of what it all meant. 

No one was very comfortable with telepathic evidence, least of all the people who had no mental defences, but it did cut through the bullshit.  Besides, the Redeemer had once told him that most people had deep, dark secrets that were actually pretty tame.  Who really cared what porn they watched when they were home alone?

The next prisoner was someone Hope would have preferred to keep until later, but he had already been the target of an FBI investigation that had been derailed when Hope and the Saviours took over the United States.  Congressman Patrick Kent had been involved in a murky sex and murder scandal that had blown up in his hometown, with accusations that Kent had hired someone to murder a prostitute who had been demanding blackmail money in exchange for keeping her mouth closed.  It was all based on rumours, but Kent’s political enemies were pushing it hard, intent on bringing him down.  And while American law didn't allow telepathic evidence to be used against a suspect—at least not without the suspect’s permission—Hope had no such compunctions. 

“Congressman Kent, your mind was scanned concerning the charges brought against you by the FBI, as well as others,” Warrior Girl said.  The Redeemer had had to dig deep to pull out the information.  Kent wasn’t a telepath, but his mind was a morass, almost a natural defence against telepathy.  “You had sex with Angela Murray on nine occasions while you were a freshman Congressman.  Once she realised that she could blackmail you, you decided to order her death, a murder which was carried out by Wade Terns, a known assassin for hire and a suspect in several cases before his untimely death last year.  You are unquestionably guilty of murder, sexual misconduct and corruption.  Quite apart from paying for the murder of a prostitute, you also took bribes, worked to pervert the course of justice, and accepted a very large commission from an aircraft corporation to buy a jet the USAF didn't want in order to save them from bankruptcy.”

She smiled.  “Do you have anything you wish to say in your defence?”

“Telepathic evidence is not admissible in a court of law,” Kent said, finally.  He sounded punch-drunk, although no one had touched him since he’d been pushed into the prison camp.  “You cannot charge me on those grounds...”

Hope shook his head.  “I’m afraid we can, and we will,” he said.  “You were elected to a position of trust by the American public, and you betrayed that trust.  In order to ensure that others considering similar courses are deterred, I sentence you to death.  The sentence will be carried out this afternoon.  In fact...”

He broke off as his communicator started to buzz.  “Hope, we have a problem,” Mainframe said.  His voice was sharp, angry.  “The main prison camp is under attack!”

Hope cursed.  “I understand,” he said.  The camp was guarded by mutants, not enough to stand off a major attack by soldiers who wanted to carry on an insurgency against Hope and the Saviours.  He’d need to reinforce them as quickly as possible.  “Call the others.  I’m on my way.”

Chapter Forty-Two

“They could have made a better mousetrap,” Matt muttered.  The Saviours had taken over a stadium on the outskirts of Washington and turned it into a makeshift prison camp.  Inside, his senses picked up hundreds of people, all captured as they attempted to flee Washington.  Most of them had worked in Washington before they were captured and the Saviours hadn't managed to get around to processing them yet.  The Saviours hadn't even bothered to tell their families that they were prisoners, leaving their nearest and dearest to fear the worst.  “I make fifteen mutants on guard duty, and one actual superhuman.”

“Hypersonic,” Lee muttered back.  “Using to be in Department 14.  Flies fast enough to cause problems for anything she hits.”

He looked back at his small group of superhumans.  “We get in, we take out the guards, and then we free the prisoners,” he reminded them.  “Hope and the Saviours will be on us very quickly, so we fight long enough for the prisoners to escape. Then we break contact.”

And hope that the rest of the plan goes as we want
, Matt added, in the privacy of his own thoughts.  The Saviours were dangerous opponents; fanatical enough to risk their lives in battle, smart enough to understand that battles weren’t as important as winning the war.  And Hope could be on them in seconds if he flew straight from the White House.  The televised trials proved that he was there, thankfully.  Team Omega would have its chance to get inside the building without having to contend with a Level 5 superhuman.

Lee drifted up into the air and grinned.  “Go,” he ordered, and flashed towards the prison camp.  Hypersonic had been sitting on the roof, gazing at the prisoners; her face betrayed no trace of the turmoil inside her mind.  Lee hit her before she could react, slamming a fist in her face; it smashed right through her skull.  Her invulnerability depended upon her flight and she hadn't even been moving when Lee had hit her.  Lee dropped the Russian flyer’s body on the ground and started to work on the main gates. 

He always tried to avoid killing people
, Matt thought, as he ran down and followed the others towards the mutants.  They were screaming for help as they passed out weapons and prepared to fight—and some of them would have powers of their own.  One mutant belched a ball of fire towards Jack Lofting, who jumped up and over the fireball.  Jack landed in front of his opponent and slammed a fist into his chest. 

Lee was still working on the gates.  Someone had used heat vision to weld them shut, preventing the prisoners from escaping.  It took a minute or two, but Lee wasn't about to be denied.  He tore the gates open and threw the debris at the final mutant, who collapsed under the impact.

“Everyone out,” Lee barked.  “Run
into
Washington and go back to your homes.  Run!”

The first prisoners started to emerge from the stadium.  They were a curious mixture of male and female, wearing clothes that had started to stink in the three days they’d been kept prisoner.  The stadium was useless as an emergency prison in the long term because it just wasn't large enough to provide sanitary facilities for so many people.  No doubt the prisoners had been on the verge of panic, only kept in check by the presence of the mutants. 

Matt stepped back as the trickle of prisoners turned into a flood.  Washington was a large city, and the prisoners were only human, but most would probably be able to hide in the crowds.  Maybe they’d need a bath or a shower first, he told himself, as the prisoners started to run, some heading
away
from the city.  Someone like Hope could probably
sniff
them out, given time.

“Portal,” Lee snapped.  “Here they come!”

Matt saw a man and a woman emerge from a glowing square of light, the woman carrying a pair of swords in her hands.  Warrior Girl looked just as he remembered from the last time they’d met, although she hadn't called herself Warrior Girl then.  The last Warrior Girl had been murdered in the same killing spree that had claimed the life of Marvin Lofting—but then,
she
would never have stood for Hope claiming the right to rule over the United States.  Her replacement was less of a hypocrite, but more of a danger.

“You,” the man shouted.  His body seemed to shimmer before he split into three identical beings, each one carrying a fighting stick and a shield.  “I
knew
you weren't a simple reporter.”

Matt braced himself as Triple A advanced on him.  The superhuman was strong and fast, although nowhere near as powerful as Hope or Lee.  But one mind covering three bodies gave him the ability to perfectly coordinate his—their—attacks, as well as other advantages that weren’t so useful in a combat zone.  And he had his weaknesses.  Matt produced his own fighting stick from his trench coat and carefully extended his senses to touch Triple A.  As always, the multi-bodied superhuman confused him; unlike others, his three bodies were completely identical.  He smiled as Triple A lifted his sticks.  All he had to do was accept that the superhuman was in three places at once, and work with it. 

“I don’t know what you are,” Triple A said, “but you have to know that you are not going to get away with this.  Surrender now, and we will be merciful.”

“You don’t have to talk like someone out of a comic book,” Matt said.  He sensed Triple A’s flush and built on it.  “What is it with superhumans these days?  They spark—and then they start talking like Superman, or Batman.  Why can't they just be themselves?”

Triple A hissed and sprung forward.  Against anyone else, it would have been decisive, but Matt read his movement and jumped forward.  For a brief moment, Triple A was vulnerable.

Matt brought his stick up into the middle body’s groin.  Maybe Triple A could share pain out over his three bodies, limiting its effects, but it wouldn't be enough to stop a stick in the groin from being extremely painful. 

All three bodies screamed, giving Matt a chance to deliver a knockout blow to the left body.  It tumbled to the ground just as the third body slammed his stick into Matt’s back.  Matt gasped in pain, brought up his foot and kicked back, right into the third body’s knee.  His target staggered, overwhelmed by the pain, giving Matt an opportunity to knock him out, too.

The middle body, still groaning in pain, rolled aimlessly on the ground.  Matt finished the job by knocking him out too, something that had probably been a relief by then.  Triple A’s greatest strength was also a weakness, providing pain kept surging from body to body.

He heard a yell.  Jack struggled to fight Warrior Girl, who had deployed her unbreakable lasso to catch Jack’s feet from under him and knocked him to the ground.  Matt wasn't too surprised; Warrior Girl had had plenty of experience fighting other superhumans, and Jack had almost none.  The training sessions hadn't touched superhuman combat yet.  Ideally, Jack wouldn't have seen combat for another year or two, even if he
was
Marvin’s son.  Bringing him along would have been a poor decision if they hadn't been so desperate for manpower.

Picking up one of Triple A’s shields, Matt walked over to Warrior Girl and struck at her back.  She heard him coming, of course, and swung one of her swords to block him.  Matt danced back as she took her foot off Jack’s neck and slashed out with her other sword, forcing him to catch the blow on his shield.  Up close, he could see the lust for combat that had followed her into superhumanity and her icy determination to do whatever seemed best for women.  In the Congo, she had been Hope’s merciless enforcer of the rights of women—and if she’d stayed there, few would have opposed her.

“Give up,” he said, as he blocked her next swing.  She'd practiced against tougher opponents than him, but they hadn't had his ability to read her and know what she was planning almost before she knew it herself.  But she moved with such speed, her blades slamming into the shield time and time again, that it was hard to keep up with her.  “You can't win this...”

High overhead, he heard a thunderclap.  Hope had arrived.

***

Hope barrelled through the air towards the makeshift prison, trying to sharpen his eyes to see what lay ahead.  There were prisoners running for their lives, a handful of superhumans already engaging Triple A and Warrior Girl—and a pair of mutant bodies on the ground.  He couldn't see Hypersonic, but the signs weren't good.  Her powers might not have protected her if she’d been caught by surprise.

Something
moved
below him.  Before he could react, a fist slammed into his chest, a fist driven by power equal to his own.  Hope was flung straight up, high enough that he could see the curve of the Earth and stars overhead.  His chest seemed to hurt worse than it had when the superpowered assassin had tried to kill him, even though nothing was broken.  The only time he’d felt anything comparable was back when he’d been in the SDI, honing his powers against America—and America was dead. 

The other superhuman appeared below him. Hope dodged, letting go of his grip on the air and allowing gravity to pull him down.  His opponent wore no costume, nothing to signify who he was or who he represented, but Hope had no difficulty recognising his face.  Fireman, one of the first superheroes—and one of the few who might be an equal match for Hope.  He struck out, automatically, only to have Fireman catch the blow and use its momentum to send Hope speeding towards the ground. 

Of course—Fireman had beaten Slaughter to death.  He'd forgotten more about superhuman combat than Hope had ever learned.

They closed together, each trying to land a blow.  Hope felt stunned as blow after blow landed, each one shaking his body even if it didn't tear through the skin.  Fireman seemed unaffected by his blows, but that had to be an illusion.  Hope had hit him hard enough to shatter a building; maybe he was weakening, or maybe he was just imagining it.  Fireman’s clothes were shredding as Hope tore them apart, yet his body seemed untouched.  And he kept raining blows on Hope.

“This is madness,” Hope managed to say, as they fell low enough for their voices to carry.  “You have to stop this!”

“You are a spoiled brat with no concept of limitations,” Fireman said, sharply.  There was no give in his voice at all, no sense that he might not be able to stop Hope from completing his mission.  “Did you ever stop to think about what you were doing—or did it just seem logical and right to you?”

Hope slammed a fist into Fireman’s face, sending him plummeting several kilometres towards the ground.  He would have liked to stay where he was and admire the continents below, but Fireman was too dangerous an opponent to give him time to recover.  Hope plunged after him, only to be caught and forced down himself in his opponent’s unyielding grip. 

For a moment, their powers were in direct competition, their fall accelerating well past the speed of sound. There was only a second’s warning before they crashed into the ground hard enough to set off an earthquake. 

Fireman lost his grip on Hope as they crashed, which was the only thing that allowed Hope to catch himself and return to the skies.  They’d smashed in Nevada, alarmingly close to Las Vegas.  The world-famous resort city, crammed with casinos and partly owned by the mob, was shaking under the impact of the earthquake they'd created.  He could
hear
the sounds of people screaming as buildings toppled and great fissures opened up in the roads; gas pipes broke and blew up, sending streams of fire billowing into the sky. 

The ground shook below.  He jumped back just before Fireman burst out of the ground and slammed a fist into his jaw.  Hope went flying, vaguely aware of smashing through a small ghost town abandoned since the days of the gold rush.  Then Fireman was on him again, each blow sending shockwaves running through the ground. 

Their battle seemed pointless, yet it was the only way to stop either of them.  They’d managed to secure most of the tactical nukes before they could be dispersed into the hands of the insurgents who refused to give him a chance to save the world...

“Damn you,” Hope managed.  He wasn't physically tried, but mentally tired, unwilling to continue the fight.  In the distance, large plumes of smoke were billowing up from Las Vegas.  “We don’t have to do this!”

“Then leave this country,” Fireman said.  Hope couldn’t tell if he was winded too, or if he was just pausing long enough to try to talk Hope into surrender.  “The power you lucked into didn't make you king of the world!”

“You
knew
how badly your government had been corrupted,” Hope shouted back at him.  Their argument would be heard for miles, even by mundane humans without enhanced senses, but he no longer cared.  “You stopped them from using Slaughter as a weapon.  Why aren't you with me on this?”