Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (45 page)

Heroes.  Why did they want to
become heroes?  Things were so much simpler as a villain; you just did whatever
you wanted.  You didn’t have to watch out for eight million potential targets
and the fifty incompetent idiots on your team every second of the day.

If he went, that would be the end
of his revenge.  It would be the end of his plan, and the end of his dreams of
being able to move on from his former life.

But, if he didn’t go…if he didn’t
go…then the innocent people of the city would die.  And at least SOME of them
didn’t deserve that…Okay…if he was being honest, almost
all
of them
didn’t deserve that.  …And the Consortium would most likely die trying to save
them.    

His family would die fighting
alone… Again. 

He loved his brother; would have
gladly died for him.  But he was entirely unwilling to risk Harlot to get
revenge.  If it came down to a choice, he’d choose her every time.  He had
already lost one family because he didn’t go with them on a suicide mission,
and he wasn’t
about
to let that happen again.  And this WAS a suicide
mission.  He had no doubts about that.  But if his family was going to die, he
was going to be right there with them.  There were worse ways to die than
fighting for the people you loved. 

He had never wanted to be a hero,
and circumstances had forced him into villainy.  All he had ever wanted to be
was the kind of man who would protect his family no matter what.  He had no qualms
or hesitation about dying for them.  If his life could save theirs, then that
was a fair trade. 

Wyatt let out a dramatic sigh as he
realized he had no choice in the matter.  The die was cast. 
Shit.

He swore again and took a note out
of his pocket.  Three left after this.  Damn.  Running out of them, which
wasn’t good.  That implied an ending, and Wyatt previously had no intention of
ending his crusade anytime soon.  He tore open the letter and read the familiar
scrawl: 
“See
.”

See?  What the hell did that mean,
Peter?  Huh?  You and your goddamn word games.  He was always like that, always
dangling his information just out of reach.  You’d reach for it, and then he’d
yank it back and make you try something new to get it.

Wyatt shook his head in aggravation
with his long dead brother.  How can you tell you were a difficult person to
get along with?  When you can still pissed people off, even though you’ve been
dead for four years.  Bastard.

He turned to go back to his room
and his eyes scanned over a TV showing the events of the day.  Dauntless
talking about something with another man, and then speeding away in a flash
like the giant…He stopped.

And his world crashed down him,
again.

Shit.  Shit.  Oh, SHIT!

He ran to the other room and popped
a DVD into the player and fast-forwarded to what he was looking for…

Peter walked past the TV camera and
turned around and waived at the camera.  “Make sure you see this.  This is
important.”  He walked the last fifty yards and stopped in front of the shadowy
figure, his head held high.  “Thought you boys were going to be late.”  He held
his arms out wide.  “Well, get on with it. I don’t have all day here.  Gimme
your best shot.”

Boys. 
Plural.

The man punched Peter in the chest,
and he flew back like a ragdoll, slamming into the sidepanel of a car.  He
would never get up from that blow.  Wyatt winced at the footage.  Watching the
live TV footage of your brother’s murder wasn’t really something he enjoyed
doing.  He rewound it and advanced it one frame at a time.  One man.  One man…then
TWO
.  Right as he brother was hit, a second man crossed in front of his
co-conspirator moving at tremendous speed, and delivering the blow.  He hit
Peter and was out of frame so fast that he had never even seen him.  He stared
at the blurry paused video image of the man a moment longer.

Dauntless.

Shit.  He grabbed another letter
and ripped it open.  Two left after this.  He looked down at the message,
already knowing what it would say: 
“It’s time to race, Rabbit.  Go tell him
I say hi.  Do it now.”

He walked towards the door and
towards the armory to get ready.  Now he knew why there were only two letters
left; those would be all he had time left to open.  This was it.  He was going
to end it…and he wasn’t coming back.

Mr. Sanderson expectantly stepped
in front of him.  “Ah, just the man I was looking for.  You have problems,
sir. 
BIG
problems.  Do you know that the ice machine on level B-12 is
broken?  I assume that you’ll want to take care of that
immediately
,
before we leave for our fieldtrip to the River of Blood?”

A
fly bit the head of a bald man, and he gave himself a slap trying to kill it. 
Escaping, the fly said mockingly, “You, who have wished revenge, see what you
have done to yourself to make the injury worse?”  The man replied, "I can
easily make peace with myself.  But you’re a contemptible insect who delights
in sucking human blood.  I wish that I could have killed you even if I had
incurred a heavier penalty."  The moral of the story?  Revenge will hurt
the avenger.

Wyatt stood in front of the
Fortress of Liberty, and stared up at the imposing façade.  He never liked this
place and he liked it even less now.  Rain poured down over his overcoat and
Consortium uniform.  He figured if he was going to die, he might as well wear
one of the damn things at least once.  He was apparently on a team again, so he
might as well die wearing their colors.  …He
still
refused to wear a
cape though.  He had to draw the line somewhere, and reluctant hero or not,
capes were STILL stupid.  He compromised by wearing a tie with the black
jumpsuit and overcoat.  One piece of fabric hanging off him was as good as
another, right?

Captain Dauntless walked from the
Fortress of Liberty where he was removing more of his mementos from his former
offices, and stopped dead as he saw Wyatt standing in the center of the
street.  Wyatt eyed him coldly and held up the note.  “My brother says ‘hi.’”

Dauntless frowned, realization
crossing his face.  “Does he?  Should have known he would have left you a crib
sheet for the future.  He always was a difficult one.”

“You have a difficult time killing
him?”

The man laughed.  “No.  No
difficulty at all.  You want me to show you?”  He stalked over to Wyatt.  “Because
I really don’t want to.  I’ve always liked you, Wyatt.  You were the one on the
team who really understood how things actually are.”

“And how’s that?”

“
Complicated
.”  Dauntless
nodded as if it was a hard truth.  “Life isn’t always heroes and villains;
sometimes the villains wear capes and the heroes have to wear masks.  I’ve had
to do a lot of things for this city that I’m not proud of, but it had to be
done.”

Wyatt eyed him coldly.  “Had to be
done?  You had to kill hundreds of people, my brother included, and it
had
to be done
?”

Dauntless’ voice rose in indignation. 
“What other choice did I have?  We can’t have the public trying to decide who
the villains and heroes are on their OWN, can we?  They’re sheep, Wyatt. 
You’ve always known that.  Someone like your new friend Vaudeville would just twist
their thoughts in a heartbeat and lead them down the garden path to ruin.  No. 
They need someone to make the choice
easy
for them.  They need someone
to protect them from themselves.”

“And that person is you, I
suppose?”

Dauntless shook his head and
stepped into the street.  “No, THOSE
people
are
US
.  That’s what
we do here, son.  That’s what we’ve always done.  We fight the world’s
villains, even if that means we have to create them first.”

Wyatt tossed his briefcase aside.  “The
only villain I’m stopping is
you
.”

Dauntless put his head back and
laughed.  “Oh please.  You think I don’t know about your little group’s plans
for their big assault?  I probably knew about it before
they
did.”

“I didn’t say them; I said
me
.”

“You?  Odd, I didn’t really take
you for the hero type, anymore.”

“I’m not.  You want to turn
yourself into a little tin god and enslave mankind?  I don’t give a shit.  I
never liked this pisshole city anyway.”  He pointed a finger at him.  “But, you
and me, we have a
private
matter to settle.  You killed my brother, and
now you’re going to try to kill my family.  I’m still enough of a hero to try
to stop you, and if that saves some innocent people in the process, good for
them.”

The other man pointed down the
street.  “Just walk away.  I have no quarrel with you, son.  I never did.  Your
brother was a necessary sacrifice for the greater good.  He had to die so that
people would remember that they were in danger.  Remember that there were
villains walking the world, and that people needed to be protected from them.  His
death was a necessary evil.  Move on.  Walk.  Away.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “I’m not
going to do that.”

“Why?  You can’t actually think you
have
any
chance against me.  I’m WAY out of your league.”

Wyatt smiled humorlessly.  “Oh, you
misunderstand me, Roger.  I have no delusions about how this fight is going to
go.  I have no doubt that you’re going to kill me; probably very soon and very
painfully.”

Dauntless squinted in confusion.  “But
you’re not going to stand aside.”

Wyatt’s expression didn’t change.  “No.”

Dauntless gave a resigned sigh.  “Very
well.” 

Dauntless slammed a fist into his
chest and Wyatt flew backwards into a lamppost.  Luckily, he was able to
partially deflect some of the force with a quickly constructed shield.  It still
felt like it broke a rib or two though.

Dauntless walked over to him and
looked down in pity.  “I really had to hold back on that one.  That was barely
a tap.  Like I said, I don’t want to kill you.  Walk.  Away.”

Wyatt got back up and formed a
broadsword.  “Well, if you’re not trying to kill me, that will make this easier
for me then.”

He swung the weapon and cleaved it
into the other man’s neck.  It was like hitting a mountain.  Dauntless just
stood there.  He wasn’t even cut by the blade.  He shook his head.  “You’re not
getting the concept of invulnerability, are you?”

Shit.

“Well, there’s invulnerability, and
then there’s
invulnerability. 
Just testing to see which you really have.”

Dauntless smiled.  “Well put.”

Dauntless punched him in the face
and Wyatt flew ten feet back, tumbling across the pavement.  He had probably
just broken his nose.  Good thing he was going to die soon, because Harlot was
going to be PISSED that Dauntless had just messed up his face.  He’d like to
say that this wasn’t how he expected the fight to go, but sadly, it most
definitely
was.  Hell, he was actually doing much better than he thought he would.  The
fight had lasted almost a minute so far.  That was
twice
as long as he had
anticipated surviving.

He got back to his feet as Dauntless
calmly strolled towards him.  “I really don’t feel like doing this with you.  I
really don’t.”  He nodded.  “So, I’ll tell you what.  I’ll give you one free
shot.  I want you to use that power of yours and give me all you got.  Come on,
it’ll be funny.”

Wyatt’s eyes went red with rage. 
Bastard.  That fucking son-of-a-bitch was laughing at him, now.  His brother’s
murderer was laughing in his face…Wyatt was angrier than her could ever
remember being.  He focused on his power and formed a small sword.  The smaller
the weapon, the stronger the blade.  His hand went white around the handle, and
he swung it at the other man’s face as hard as he could.  The razor sharp blade
crashed into his face…and shattered.

The man laughed again.  “Really? 
That was it?  I was really hoping for something better from you.  Maybe I was
wrong all these years.  Guess your father was right about you; you are weak.” 
He shook his head again in amusement and pressed his hand to his cheek where
the blade had impacted.  “That didn’t even…”

He stopped and looked down in
disbelief at the drop of blood on his fingertip.  His face contorted into a
frown of confusion as if he had just never even thought of the possibility that
he even HAD blood before.  The drop washed away as the rain continued to pour
down.

Wyatt smiled.  “Like I said;
there’s invulnerable and then there’s
invulnerable.”

Of course, the entire thing was
really only a paper victory.  The wound was miniscule; less than a papercut. 
Hell, Wyatt had cut himself worse than that shaving off his “evil” goatee an
hour ago, but it was a win.  …Sort of.  And that was enough for Wyatt.  Harlot
would be proud.  For the last ten seconds of his life, he would be the hero she
deserved.  The hero he had always wanted to be for her.  He could die relatively
happy, now.

Dauntless’ eyes narrowed in rage.  “I
was going to let you go.  I would have even let you join up with us again when
this was all over and we were back on top.”  He shook his head.  “But now?  I’m
going to hurt you more than anyone’s ever hurt.”

“You mean you’re going to make me
listen to one of your inspirational rap albums about civic pride, from that
album you released in ‘9…”

Dauntless punched him in the face
again and Wyatt flew down the sidewalk again.  Dauntless glided over to him to
haul him to his feet, and then punched him in the stomach.  Wyatt doubled over
in pain.  Dauntless picked him up and threw him through the plate-glass window
of a clothing store across the street.  Wyatt hit the back wall and fell onto
one of the glass displays.  He coughed and felt something warm and wet on his
lips.  Great.  Blood.  He had punctured a lung.

The cell phone in his pocket
jingled and he automatically answered it.  Probably some sort of delirium.  “…Yeah?”

Harlot’s voice boomed out over the
tiny speaker, and he held it away from his pounding head.  “Wyatt?  Where ARE
YOU!?!”

He coughed.  “Taking…care of…some
stuff.”

“Right.  And what stuff would that
be?”

He coughed again, and then frowned
at the specks of blood on the phone’s electronic display.  “Ummm…
personal
stuff.”

“Personal stuff?”  Her voice took
on a shrill incredulous tone.  “
PERSONAL STUFF!?!
  I tell you that I
need your help, you turn me down, and your only explanation is that you’re
doing ‘
PERSONAL STUFF?’”

He tried to sit up and winced as a
shard of glass jabbed further into his back.  He was having trouble moving his
right arm, so either his shoulder was dislocated, broken, or he had some sort
of neurological damage.  He tried to keep the pain from his voice, but he could
tell he wasn’t doing a very convincing job.  “Everything’s going to plan.”

He could practically see her beautiful
eyes narrow in suspicion.  “…Where are you
REALLY
?”  There was a long
pause.  “You’re there, right now, aren’t you!?!  AREN’T YOU!?!”

He pulled a shard of glass from his
leg and tossed it aside.  “I…don’t know…what you’re…talking about.  You
know
me; I’m not a hero.”

Another long pause.

“Yes, I DO know you.  Even when
you’re evil, you’re STILL the most heroic man I know, which is why I KNOW that
you’re…”

He cut her off.  “Good luck on your
mission.  I love you…goodbye.”

He hung up as she tried to protest. 
Damn.  He really did love that crazy evil girl.  Shit.  What an unfortunate
time to realize it. 

This whole thing had
always
been
about her.  He had been sitting in a shithole dimly lit hotel room a few months
ago, and he had sat on the bed, feeling utterly lost, and opened up a letter
from Peter.  It had simply provided the address of the Consortium lair, and
said: “
You need her
.”  At the time, he had assumed that Peter was saying
that he needed the Consortium for his revenge plan to succeed, but now that he
was facing imminent death, he was reevaluating that assumption.  Now he could
see that Peter had meant ‘
need’
in general, and need
Harlot
specifically. 
He needed her in his life.  Needed her to HAVE a life.  Needed her to live. 
She was exactly what he had desperately wanted his entire life.  Someone who
loved him; somewhere he belonged.  And now, Wyatt wanted nothing more than to
spend the
rest
of his life in that awful hole in the ground, surrounded by
her annoying loser family, just so long as she was there too.  He could put up
with anything…DO anything…to have her. 

The phone immediately rang again,
but he ignored it.  He sat up and took stock of his condition.

Well, at least Dauntless hadn’t
stopped going easy on him.  He was still alive, so Dauntless was holding back. 
This time it seemed to be more from a desire to keep him alive for as long as
possible to continue hurting him, but a pulled punch was a pulled punch.

Wyatt gingerly reached into his
pocket trying not to touch his battered ribs, and pulled out a letter.  “Come
on Peter…gimme something…please…”  One left after this. 

“
What are you?  Some kind of
pussy now?   This race isn’t over yet, Rabbit, so stop sleeping and go beat
that fucking tortoise!  Feel your power well up inside, because they don’t
build statues for the weak, Bro.”

Wyatt stared at it a moment.  How…
entirely
unhelpful.  Thanks, Pete!  Asshole.  When he saw him in the afterlife in a few
minutes, he was so going to punch him in the face.  Assuming they went to the
same place, which given Wyatt’s recent actions was HIGHLY doubtful.

Wyatt pulled himself back to his
feet and staggered back into the street.  Time to die like a hero.  He could be
anyone he wanted to be, and this was his choice.  At long last, he was the
person he’d always hoped to be.  This was a NEW man.  A Fabricator who had seen
the mire and dirt of this world firsthand, and there was no way he was going to
let anyone drown in its depths again.  THIS Fabricator could see the line
between right and wrong quite clearly.  THIS Fabricator had a family, and had
the love of a good woman, and no asshole in a cape was going to take that away
from him without a fight.  It was a fight he was going to
lose
, but he
didn’t care. 

He had never been a hero.  He
probably never would be, but he was going to go out there anyway. 
This
was the person who Harlot deserved.  …Sadly, he’d only get to
be
that
person for another minute or two, but still…  It was nice to be worthy of her
for a moment.