Blaze of Glory, Page 2

  He looked like the barista who made my morning coffee down at the corner Starbucks.

  The other aspect of seeming dazed was part of a game plan Mike and I thought up years ago. It worked best on new villains who didn’t clue into the fact that Mike was the sidekick and I was the superhero. Focus their attention on the big man in the iron suit and forget the little girl hanging off to one side. It grabbed high ratings every time we pulled it off.

  With a roar Mike set off both lasers from his arms, channeling the energy of the entire small nuclear reactor on his back into two devastating shots. In the past it’d been enough to knock the bad guy on his butt and give us the win. It was a one-time-only shot—Mike would be totally defenseless for five minutes after it—but it was a game-winner. Or it had been in the past.

  The dual blast caught our attacker square in the chest. I studied the alien fighter as the red light spiraled around him, enveloping him in what would probably be a lethal amount of heat and light.

  The man took a deep breath and inhaled the laser attack through his open mouth.

  Then exhaled it back at Mike.

  I saw the blast hit Mike squarely in the center of his chest plate. The metal buckled and screamed under the attack as the humanoid robot suit fell back onto the concrete. His arms flailed in the air as he tried to roll over—it’d always been one of the suit’s problems that hadn’t ever been fixed ’cause they never choreographed anyone turning him into a ten-ton turtle.

  “No!” Raising both hands, I focused all the trapped energy I had gathered into the palms of my hands. Fifty thousand volts of electricity and power and energy all aimed at one man. I’d never tossed that much at a single person before, usually only enough to send a shock through their system and shut them down like a taser blast. This was lethal, and I’d never had permission to use that much force before. I figured it was worth the extra paperwork.

  The release shot me back ten feet as the blue light sprang from my palms and nailed the stranger right in the chest, ripping what appeared to be a smile from his face. The jagged bolts shattered all over his body, bouncing from one point to another, one finger to another, to his head to his nose to his teeth and hopefully across his heart, shutting it down.

  I landed on my ass, gasping for air. Around me I spotted the electromagnetic waves from everything and everyone and began to suck them back into me just in case I needed a second blast to take this guy down. There wasn’t time for a full recharge. I’d never had to do this so quickly.

  “Sweetie…” Mike’s anguished voice whispered in my ear. “This guy’s packing serious heat.”

  “No kidding.” I snarled as the electrical cloud around the alien dissipated, leaving him in perfect condition. His damned shirt wasn’t even burned. Scrambling to my feet, I worked the waves back around me and into my hands again, feeling the sensitive metal fibers in the gloves begin to burn with the heat.

  “Don’t do it.” My Guardian rolled onto his side, pushing himself upwards with a weariness that translated through the burnt and scorched metal. “Save it, Jo.”

  “This guy’s got to go down.” Clenching my teeth, I fired off a blast, maybe half-strength if I was lucky. The alien rotated to stare at me, a confused look on his face.

  “Jo, you’ve got to get the hell out of here.” Mike moved to a kneeling position. His labored breathing was loud in my ears. “This guy’s not alone. Just got the word, there’s alien ships appearing all over the world. And they’re all dropping guys who are killing anyone and anything that’s thrown at them.”

  “What?” Scooping the waves up from around me, I raced to weave them together and into my palms.

  “The Alphas are dying.” Metal Mike lumbered to his feet, one steel leg shattered to the point I could not only see the damned skeleton that held it together, I could see Mike’s ebony skin. “Every nation’s sent out their A-list and they’re all going down.”

  “That’s impossible,” I blustered. “Impossible.”

  The stranger was watching me intently as I tossed another blast at his head. Raising one hand, he swatted it away, ignoring me and advancing on Mike.

  Mike jumped up and grabbed both feet of the intruder. “Jo, get out of here. If you stay here, you’ll be killed.”

  He slammed back to the ground, his feet digging huge holes in the concrete. The suit wobbled for a second before falling backwards, leaving Mike flat on his back, both metal fists clenched around the feet of the invader.

  “Mike!” I sent off another blast, the weakest yet. It bounced off the man’s head as he levitated back to stand upright on Mike’s chest.

  Mike kept his grip on the black leather shoes. “Just go!” he roared. “I’m setting this baby on overload. Maybe it’ll take this bastard out.”

  “What?” I moved a bit closer, sucking up another series of waves. “You can’t do that, you’ll destroy the city.”

  “Limited casualties.” The wheezing grew stronger in my ear. “It’s not a full meltdown; it’s all measured out. A feature we never thought we’d have to use.”

  The blond man was staring down at him with a puzzled look, almost of sadness, as the metal fingers kept a firm grip on the feet.

  “Jo, it’ll take out about five city blocks. Agency says it’s a go, so get the fuck out of here and save yourself.” A beeping began in my ear. “Less than a minute.”

  “I’m not leaving you here.” The weakest shot yet, barely enough to earn me a glance from the stranger.

  “It’s not an option.” The voice grew fainter. “Lyon’s down; you saw what happened to Black and Tan. Don’t be an idiot, someone’s got to rally the troops.”

  “The Agency…”

  “The Agency’s panicking. Everyone is.” Mike coughed. “Save yourself, then save the world. That’s always been the deal, girlfriend.”

  “Mike…”

  “Get your ass out of here before I take you with me.” He yelled in my ear so loudly that I instinctively shot into the air, obeying my Guardian’s last order.

  As I rose higher and higher I spotted the police and firemen racing to clear the area—obviously the word had gone out that something was going to happen, something bad enough that they didn’t mind sacrificing a few city blocks in order to stop these guys.

  A last, soft voice in my ear. “Hey, girl…kick ass for me.”

  A supernova appeared far below me, rising up to devour the buildings and anyone who wasn’t fast enough to get out of the blast radius. The shock wave rolled towards me, a shimmering ripple racing outward that I knew I couldn’t escape.

  So I rolled onto my back, stared up at the sky and let it carry me off into darkness where I could imagine I was safe in bed with Mike, watching another late-night brawl in Japan between Osuki and Gojira with the bad translations and the taste of hot buttered popcorn on Mike’s lips.

  Chapter Two

  There was something wet on my lips, something tapping and withdrawing and tapping again at my mouth. But it wasn’t Mike—it was something cold and wet and metallic and tasted like…

  I opened my eyes. A clump of grass flapped at me, anchored to a small sand dune. Right beside it a lazy wave slid up the beach and into my face then retreated, leaving an ugly green sludge beside me.

  Which had me skittering to my feet as fast as I could. I knew what that particular algae was and didn’t want to get any closer to it than I already had. As it was I had an overwhelming urge to throw up and start drinking bleach to disinfect every inch of my body.

  I was home. In Toronto, Canada.

  To be exact, on a beach near Parkdale—one of the smaller neighborhoods in the city. And when I say beach don’t think about Florida white sand and Bermuda blue oceans, think of a foot or two of gravelly dirty sand that leads into thin grass and then to parkland. Canada didn’t have a lot of great scenic beaches, but you made the best of what you had. Which also included many days where the beaches were closed due to too much E. coli wandering up from the lake and turning the wat
er into a biological terror for those brave enough to go out for a swim. There was a reason why public swimming pools were always full on the hottest days and the beaches empty.

  Shaking my head, I forced the last of the lake water from my ponytail and looked around. It was about dawn and I was miles away from the explosion, probably auto-routed in my near unconscious state after the shock wave had hit. Darned lucky too. I wasn’t usually that good at surfing the waves, as it were.

  My sneakers were soaked where they had been dragging in the water, and my feet felt like two dead fish. Squishing with every step, I made my way to the path and then up to the street corner only a few minutes from the lakeshore.

  Mike was dead. Of that there was no doubt. He had told me once about the possibility of him having to overload his suit, but I hadn’t really paid much attention.

  “It’ll have to be something bad,” he’d mumbled into the pillow as I watched the images on television. It was a rematch of Ace versus Downtown Brown, and I was curious to see if the Agency would change their mind and let Brown win this time. It was a long shot, but there was always a chance…

  “Why would you do that?” I glanced at the set, stealing more of the sheets away from him with a twist of my body. “It’s always fixed.”

  His cool blue eyes caught mine, grabbed them and held them. “Never take any of this for granted. Me, you, this…it could all change in an instant.”

  “Yeah. Right.” I waved him away. “Ace’ll take this one, you watch.”

  I had been right and he had been right. For all the good it did.

  The morning traffic had started along King Street, the red streetcars rumbling along the rails set in the concrete and delivering their pedestrian loads all over the city. There was a coffee shop on the corner of Roncesvalles and King just as I remembered, and I was in desperate need of a coffee and a newspaper along with a few dozen painkillers. Stripping off my gloves, I jammed them into the back pockets of my jeans. It would seem pretty conspicuous if I were the only one walking around with gloves on, given the warm weather, and the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself. Sure, I could have worn a mask, but the Agency liked to put a personal face on each of their heroes and villains, and a mask would have screwed that up. So the best I could do was try to blend in and hope that I came across as maybe a fangirl at best, a psychotic fan at worst. And I had plenty of both. If nothing else, superheroes fighting supervillains made for good reality television.

  Leaving a wet trail of steps behind me, I strode into the café, tugging my fingers through my ragged ponytail to give it at least an air of respectability. At least I hadn’t landed so far into the water that I smelled like a drunk.

  The shop had a handful of customers inside, two lovebirds cooing to each other over lattes and a senior citizen dissecting the daily paper while pontificating to no one in general about what was wrong with the economy. Another young man, probably a university student, was hunched over his laptop doing a two-finger tap dance on the keyboard.

  I looked up at the menu as I dug in my pocket, wondering if I had enough for a coffee. We’d never worried about taking money or identification out of the suite; we just didn’t. After all, we were superheroes.

  “What can I get you?” The blonde waitress smiled from behind the counter.

  “Ah…” A five dollar bill appeared in my hand from where it had been hidden in the deepest darkest recesses of my front pockets. “Just a small coffee, please.” I glanced at the television set mounted behind her. “Anything big happening?”

  She didn’t look up, pouring the coffee into a ceramic mug. “Other than the alien invasion, you mean?”

  “Yeah, that.” I grabbed the sugar dispenser and dumped an obscene amount into the mug. “Cream, please.”

  “Sure.” The waitress shoved a small metal pitcher towards me, gesturing at the television set. “Word is that they set off a bomb in New York. Killed a hundred people.”

  I choked on the coffee. She spun around. “You okay, sweetie?”

  “Yeah.” I coughed. “Down the wrong windpipe.” My free hand waved in the air. “Did they kill the alien?”

  “Not a chance.” She shook her head. “Bruiser came out on top, floating there like he hadn’t a care in the world. Flew back into the ship and now they’re just sitting there. Got another one over Washington. The President’s evacuated to some bunker somewhere, and she’s giving a news conference later on this morning. Up in Ottawa they’re hiding out somewhere waiting for someone to save them.” Her forehead furrowed as she looked at me. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  “I’m always getting that. Got one of those familiar faces.” I smiled, ignoring the jagged pain shooting through my heart. Mike hadn’t done anything but make the situation worse, if that were possible.

  The woman tapped the button on the remote. “CNN’s got the best coverage right now.” She let out a sigh. “Not looking good.”

  The bleary-eyed reporter stared at the screen from behind the news desk, her expression rotating from confused to distraught to exhausted. “Reports are coming in about these ships appearing all over the world over major cities and a single…man coming out. Despite repeated team attacks by superheroes and supervillains from around the world, none of these alien invaders have retreated. And many lives have been lost.” A series of pictures flashed behind him. “Ace, Arachnia, Heavy Harry, Tan, Desperado…” For a second I saw a flash of my own press shot, smiling at the camera. “Many others are missing in action.”

  I closed my eyes as the list went on and on. Some I knew, some I didn’t.

  “Metal Mike, Davie Lyon…” The words punched me in the chest, stopping my breath.

  “You okay?” I looked up to see the waitress watching me carefully. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

  “Yeah, well…” My hands gripped the mug tightly. “A lot to take in, you know?”

  “You’re telling me.” She leaned back on the counter, staring at the images as they continued the morbid roll call. “Always thought they’d be tough enough to defend the planet. I mean, they’re super, right? That’s why they call them supers.”

  “Right.” A throbbing began right behind my left eye, threatening to return the coffee with interest. I’d always been prone to migraines, but since my injury and the activation of my powers I was more susceptible than ever. It usually started up when I overstretched myself in a fight and pushed my limits. Nothing some good drugs couldn’t take care of.

  “Here’s your change. Don’t get too many American tourists in this part of town.” The woman stacked a pile of coins by my cup. “Just be careful. Where you from, anyway?”

  I forced my head up, trying to swallow the pain. “Niagara Falls.” It wasn’t a total lie.

  “Good thing it’s not New York City.” She jerked a thumb at the screen that was now showing the crater Mike had caused and the ship hovering nearby. “Not a good time to be abroad.”

  “No.” My headache exploded into a full-blown migraine. Grabbing hold of the cup, I took another deep swallow of the super-sweet drink. I didn’t have any identification, no passport…hell, I had nothing. And if I flew back to the penthouse suite, the Agency would be there and they’d want to know about Mike and… I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to stave off the pain enough to think.

  “We’re receiving reports that there has also been a series of concentrated individual attacks on supers. Ann Kowalski has the story.” The screen shifted to show a blonde woman with long curly hair standing in front of a hospital. The listing named it as being in Washington, D.C.

  “Tom, I’m here at Mercy of Angels hospital where there has been a startling development in the attack on the United States and across the world. Superheroes are dying both in and out of battle with the aliens; possibly from some sort of psychic attack.”

  Ace’s picture returned to the screen, the warm smile and blue eyes reminding me of why he had been so popular. “While we’ve seen so
me of our greatest heroes struck down in the prime of their lives in this epic battle with the invaders, other heroes have been seen dying even as they rushed to the fight.”

  Now I really felt nauseous. Putting down what I hoped was a reasonable tip from the fiver, I headed for the door. Behind me I heard someone, probably the old man, mutter something about “Damned illegal aliens.”

  If I hadn’t been working so hard not to throw up, I would have laughed. As it was, the cool morning air helped settle my stomach but did nothing for the aching behind my eye.

  And the fear growing in my gut. Reaching around to the back of my neck, I felt the plug there, waiting. Just waiting. And the clock had started.

  I looked for the nearest bus stop, digging out the last of my coins. It’d barely be enough to get me to where I needed to get, the only place I might be able to survive the dangers from outside and inside until I had a chance to figure out what to do.

  The streetcar was crowded and hot, the morning rush of students, businessmen and plain old hardworking people filling almost every available space. I managed to grab a single seat by the window, forcing the window open to enjoy the cool breeze and help keep the coffee down. A young man bumped into me with a thick knapsack, almost taking my head off.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes on the ground. Then he glanced at me, a bit more focused. “Say, aren’t you…?”

  “Nope.” The smile was forced through the throbbing in my eye and the rumbling of my stomach. “I look a lot like her, don’t I? I get that all the time from my friends, and they say that I ought to use it to get into clubs and all that…” I chirped, fluttering my fingers in the air. “I mean, it’d be so cool to be her and all, don’t you think?”

  The rambling went on for two more blocks until the fellow shuffled away from me with a curt goodbye, and the rest of the passengers studiously tried to ignore me.