It had only been a matter of weeks since I had begrudgingly accepted the gift of the vocalizer. That same day, I had promised myself I wouldn’t degrade into spouting cliche one-liners in the midst of battle. Now, the League had provided me a suggested list of phrases to use. An extensive one.
As soon as my boots dug in and took me forward, all those practiced lines evaporated. For all that I wanted to play the part for the League, there was still a learning curve to it. Once I had committed to doing things my way, the old habits came immediately to the surface.
I snaked between headstones, moving up closer to the henchman who had moved away from my hiding spot. Whatever advantage I had stealth-wise would be short-lived in such an open space. The quicker I could cut down the numbers of those opposing me, the better.
There were three figures in range. One facing directly away from me, only a dozen or so feet ahead of my current position. Second was more to the left and further back, glancing at the third who was inspecting the tomb on the right. It was the second one that saw me first, his masked face turning to me just as I emerged from a row of shorter headstones.
Nerve shot blasted out, striking him in the chest. He dropped what he was holding, clutching at his torso as he toppled, his brain imagining his ribcage burst open even though he had little more than scratches from the attack. I collided with the one right in front of me before he could spin around, launching him straight into a gravestone. Left arm extended, the grapple shot out at the third as he went to draw his pistol.
Foam expanded and hardened, pinning his forearm to his side. Empty shell left the side of my gun-arm as I racked a new shot. Rappel line drew the furthest one closer to me. Before either of them had recovered, I fired into the head of the one by the tomb and set the foam to dissolve. Just as the cartridge left the chamber, I then swung down at the clambering henchman and struck him in the face, cracking his porcelain mask and probably his nose.
A short series of events that rang out like the crack of thunder.
“We’ve got company!”
Very true. Before they had a chance to finish that sentence, I had pulled the pins of two smoke grenades from my chest. A large cloud of gray blossomed around me, obscuring the area. Flashes of bright red zipped through, illuminating the dense smoke as the henchmen fired their weapons. I was no longer there, however.
Clara kept the map updated as the criminals changed positions. They appeared to be creating a semi-circle wall around Bonemeal. Staggered slightly, using the graveyard as cover, just as I was. Although I hadn’t bothered tracking their Threat Level, it seemed as though they had a little more experience and skill than I had been expecting.
While they continued to pierce the smoke with their potshots, I had moved deeper into the graveyard, ducking behind cover to circle around toward the northern tomb. Dropping the villain early would at least give me a morale victory that could cause the henchmen to break. If the goons tried to run, I had some confidence that the cops would be waiting outside the park to scoop them up.
A few shots of me working alongside the police would do well for my image. Gross.
Several more shots burned at the stone where the super-heated plasma struck, filling the area with an odd chemical smell. My re-breather cut most of it out, and as their blind-firing died down, I stopped and rolled behind cover. Other than the sound of cooling stone cracking, there was an amount of silence that washed through the area. Something I didn’t want to interrupt by moving.
My muscles tensed up as a rising hiss rolled around my ears, forming words.
“More fresh bones? Did the League send a lackey to become food for Lo’pit?”
The voice was unsettling, as if Bonemeal was sitting right beside me behind this large grave marker. He must have some way of projecting his voice. Before I could even send Clara a question mark, a notification pinged through, giving me some exposition.
>Lo’pit (loh~piy): An old god, known as the Great Vulture, Lingering Demise, and the Prophet of Inevitability. Modern worship is all but nil, with most of the churches and sects following him dying out around 6-700 years ago. Lo’pit is said to be a hoarder of the dead, valuing those who had unique lives over those who lived a more mundane existence. Sects were often divided in belief about whether Lo’pit desired the death of all things, or aimed at celebrating life through death.
I skimmed through the text as quick as I was able. Short story seemed to be Bonemeal was a crackpot. While I knew I shouldn’t be such a cynic given I knew that Belle seemed to have a very real connection to a deity—or at least a powerful benefactor—the fact that this villain was trying to rob a wealthy tomb with his powers soured me on taking him seriously.
Their volley of plasma had helped burn away at the smoke cloud I had left, assisting it with dissipating a lot sooner than I would have liked. If I was still standing there, at least. A team of three of them started to approach the location, breaking away from their defensive wall.
“It will be easier if you showed yourself now, maggot-food.”
My expression dulled, realizing that I’d have to put up with this lunatic whispering in my ear for as long as I wanted to do this the stealthy way. The League probably wanted me to jump atop one of these plinths and monologue to the bad guy before duking it out with them in a fair fight. I’d get the results they wanted and look fucking good doing it… but I now came to terms with my inability to hit the pantomime side of the job. They should just be thankful I wasn’t straight up murdering everyone here.
Perhaps not a thought helping my case.
I blinked away the distracting thoughts and checked the map. Three more seconds, perhaps. The League was going to hate me. My left hand rose into the air, holding the small trigger with detonation button. One deep breath as the small dots moved into the area now shaded red. Clara really was good at this sort of thing. I pressed the button.
The plastic explosives left on the gravestone before I had escaped the cloud of smoke erupted. Not close enough to the approaching henchmen to kill them outright, but between the blast-wave and shattered stone debris, they received enough damage to put them down. Six of the thirteen goons out of action already.
Plenty of expensive collateral damage, I was sure. The dead wouldn’t care.
“Fool! Lo’pit seeks to pluck the thread of your mortality. Played like an instrument until… something comes along to snip the wire.”
The temperature of the area dropped suddenly, and I tensed up so as to not shiver. It wasn’t just the ground where I was sitting sapping away at my body heat, but the air itself felt chilly. While my brain tried to pick out if this was a magical spell or not, a message from Clara took my attention away.
//Clara: Villain is approaching. Be wary of
//Clara: Dive left.
I did as she commanded immediately, without question. Hitting the cold ground, I rolled forward to get as much distance from my place of hiding as possible. As I righted to a crouch behind another set piece, I noted briefly that this area wasn’t so cold. A flash of blue filled my vision, as a long object spun straight through the gravestones, rotating in the place I was just sitting before it returned like a boomerang.
It was maybe a little early to sus out what was going on, but I was willing to bet that Bonemeal had an ethereal weapon that he could throw, and the chilling effect was forewarning for where he planned to launch it. A leap to assume as much after one instance of the act, but part of my brain was confident about this. Of course, I had Analyze, so maybe understanding superpowers had seeped into me passively.
In too much danger to continue patting myself on the back, I needed a plan. Plasma shots began raining down around the area. There was no chance they could hit me while I remained behind this cover… but that was the point. Suppressive fire, while Bonemeal charged up his next throw.
//Clara: Weapon appears to be a scythe. Summoned, and not physical.
//Clara: I recommend avoiding it.
A rather glib statement from her, given the circumstances. It hadn’t felt magical, so casting Dispel on it was out of the question. My brow furrowed as my brain switched tracks to something adjacent and potentially more actionable.
The League of Heroes wanted me to pull this off for pre-loading social media engagement, but with that device blanketing sound and vision into the graveyard, I wasn’t sure how much footage they could easily get. It was somewhat likely they had their own drones in here, or something else that could remain hidden. Alternatively, I was doing all of this for no gain.
//Dubs: Cloaking device?
//Clara: There’s a wheelbarrow-sized device that might be the cause.
//Clara: Now marked on the map.
A quick glance told me that two of the robed thugs had remained near it, closer to the center of the graveyard. Whatever it was, it must be important. Unfortunately, it was also out of my reach currently.
“Your writhing heartbeat betrays you, venomous worm.”
Asking Clara if there was a chance she could stop my heart for a moment was probably a dead end I wouldn’t escape from. Fitting place for such a dire ploy, however. My eyes went around to the surrounding gravestones as the temperature dropped once again.
I suppose I should start taking this seriously.
Flash grenade illuminated the area, the ringing daze fading from the criminals to reveal another cloud of smoke where I had been hiding. Scythe went out, piercing through the cover along the way but doing no damage. Plasma shots peppered the area, but not all of them went directly for the wall of gray - as they had anticipated I would have moved.
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As the scythe made a return journey to Bonemeal, a second Flash grenade went out. It was a long shot to expect the villain to have been put off by the bright light and miss the catch of his weapon. In fact, he had probably still caught it deftly. He probably would look incensed or overconfident, were it not for the next few seconds.
The faux darkness washed away from the area, some ambient noise filtering in to our little arena. Lights from the surrounding streets and buildings filtered down, painting the scene in dim illumination. The drone wobbled as it escaped the scene of the crime, climbing higher into the air now that the obscuring dome had been deleted.
More than just recon, she was providing tangible assistance to the fight. The first Flash had been so that she could dive into the smoke cloud without being spotted. I had attached an EMP grenade to the hovering drone with a small amount of the expanding foam. A risky maneuver, but she had then dived into the location of the unknown tech box as the second Flash covered her movement.
It looked as though she had received a bit of damage herself, but the drone stayed aloft.
//Clara: Moving to basi..c output. M…inor damage.
//Clara: Maint…aining map.
Her comms were coming through, distorted slightly, but I got the gist of it. It had been enough, and now it was up to me to mop up. The morale of the criminals would have taken a hit. Exposed to the city at large. If I wasn’t mistaken, there were flashing lights of emergency vehicles painting the buildings on the street opposite past the treeline. Their time was up, and they knew it.
I took the moment of brief confusion to really sell it. Shutting off the thinking part of my brain for a second, I swung myself up, standing up on one of the wide marble plinths. In clear view of all.
[Desecrating the dead? Looks like you made a grave mistake.]
There was a small chance those present would die of cringe, but I was willing to take that risk… even if I would regret it long term. Instead, most of the henchmen took a while to take me in. I must look quite the sight. A mix of technology and sinister tactical gear, draped over with a thick wasteland survivor theme. Not a hero, I’m sure their initial thoughts were.
“Kill him!” Bonemeal seethed, at the breaking point with how inept his goons had been this whole evening. Now I got to see him in all his glory as well.
A robe, like his gang's outfit, but more ornate. Faded blue and silver, with dark feathers sewn into the long sleeves. He was pale and bald, with eyes that screamed desperate mania and lack of sleep. The rest of his face was covered by a mask that resembled a long beak. Gold and sharp. His right hand held the ethereal scythe while in his left a human skull glowed a light blue.
Threat Level 50.
About where I expected a villain on his level to be, all things told. Definitely a potential danger to me if I let him get the upper hand. I tried not to think about how high Roxy’s Threat was compared to this graverobber.
His simple instruction was enough to bring the remaining goons out of their worried stupor. Despite me quickly dispatching several of them, they saw the villain’s ire as more of a threat than whatever I had in my chamber. Nerve shot.
Rather than jump down immediately, my synapses burned with fire as I activated Reflex. Adrenaline pumped around, mixing with the stims from the pack in my neck. I fired the shotgun on repeat, at much greater speed than was usually possible. Seven shots before my brain sunk back to normal speed. The empty shells bounced from the marble and down onto the soft ground.
While I was usually an expert shot, the amount of minor cover in the area was an issue. Three of the henchmen took enough damage to knock them out, while a fourth only imagined he had lost use of his left arm. A shot toward Bonemeal had just been absorbed by some manner of shielding. I was filled with plasma shots more than jealousy over his protection.
Taking the hint, I dove from my precipice into a hard roll, jolting my body as I slammed into the next piece of jutting stone. Three plasma shots had struck me, and the smell of melting leather filtered through my re-breather, drowning out all other odors. Two torso shots, and one to my left arm—each absorbed by my outfit—still burning away.
The cooling temperature just made the points of burning energy even more prominent, and I grimaced. Twice I had escaped the scythe with a little misdirection and a handy dive. My feet were out-of-place due to my awkward roll, and Bonemeal would anticipate Smoke or a dodge again.
“Nowhere to run, little heartbeat. Lo’pit judges your soul worthy of ascension.”
I grunted and rolled my eyes. With my V-Force drive humming up to full power, I stood up to face him.
The scythe came out, spinning like a top as it flashed through the gravestones between us. Blue light flickered as it dealt no damage to anything until it reached me. I watched as it spun through my legs before returning to the villain. It was ethereal. I took the gamble that if it didn’t damage the stone, then it wouldn’t be able to sever my legs.
I was… partially correct. One of the rolled dice was cocked.
A chill ran through my legs. Not sharp, but as if I had stepped into a freezing pool of water. I went to step forward, but could not. Ethereal arms emerged from the ground beneath me, clawed hands grasping and raking at my legs. Frozen in place, feeling the scratching clutches of the damned, but my clothing was untouched.
As agony wracked through my limbs, I raised my gun-arm up to the cackling Bonemeal.
[A hero does not run from those who cause injustice. Let this be a judgement of your own villainous actions.]
He looked as though he didn’t agree with my statement and was about to object, but the crackling energy humming through my shotgun couldn’t wait for a monologue to begin. Mentally, I clicked the trigger. End scene.
Triple shot exploded from the end of the barrel, three doses of Tazer that overwhelmed whatever shield he had up. Bonemeal shuddered and flinched as the arcs of blue crackled along him, blackening parts of his robes.
Still, it didn’t drop him.
With a growl, he recomposed himself, bringing up the skull in his left hand. Pools of bright red gleamed through the empty eye sockets as some manner of doom leveled my way.
A spell, which I canceled out with my own Dispel. Then my gauntleted fist met his face, the mask shattering as I knocked him out. The piercing chill clawing at my bones started fading from my legs. My heartbeat rang in my head. The rest of me was on fire, after having used the emergency combat dose on my stims to power my legs through the ethereal restraints.
Maybe doing that just so I could run up and punch him in the face wasn’t the smartest choice. It was for the cameras, though. After spouting whatever nonsense I had said, it looked good to back it up with waltzing up to the bad guy and clocking him in the mouth. Viewers would love it.
I shook out my hand and looked over to the side. The rest of the henchman had made a run for it. The flashing lights in the park and locked gates had sealed their fate, and as soon as the sound of sirens started up, I relaxed. Although, that could be the come-down from the stims wearing off. I would sleep well tonight.
The drone hovered down beside me, still wavering as if it was drunk.
//Clara: I’m going to d…ock and switch to n…orma…l comms.
I stood in place, my own energy sinking away as she haphazardly moved the drone into the attachments on my backpack. As it powered down, it was lifted into a vertical position and clipped in.
//Clara: That’s better. Great job, Gunquake.
//Dubs: Thanks. You too.
//Clara: I’m going to need to twist some arms in regards to drone upgrades.
//Dubs: What about this tech?
I looked at the sparking box of… whatever the cloaking device actually was. Feeling rather tired, I wasn’t sure exactly what I could do with it. Too large to carry, and I wasn’t likely to even get it past the wave of authorities out in the park.
[What do you think?]
My brain was too shredded to visually type out a message to the techie again. An ache still ran through my legs as they warmed back up, but it didn't feel like any permanent damage had been done. No doubt Bonemeal intended to stick me in place and then repeatedly scythe or use one of his other actual spells to get rid of me.
//Clara: Check the side. I believe I saw something.
Against better judgement, I kneeled down. My eyes went over the side of the partially broken machine and clocked what looked to be a serial number.
//Clara: Scanned. This one is fried, but that’s a lead, at least.
//Clara: Your vitals are lagging due to withdrawal, but you’re unhurt.
//Clara: Take a breath while you deal with the League and come home when ready.
I nodded and stood back up with an extended sigh. Not too bad, all things considering. Nobody had died. There was some minor damage to some of the graveyard, but compared to being looted, I was sure this was a decent outcome. The League would probably blame it all on Bonemeal and his lackeys.
With little else to do here, I set off towards the gates. With the amount of light now reaching the graveyard, I could see that the gates had been cut back open. The henchmen I hadn’t shot were on their knees, hands behind their heads as a group of cops restrained them.
I wondered how likely it was I could just skirt on by without being spoken to.
“Gunquake,” a voice off to the side stopped me in my tracks, just as I stepped into the now very cluttered park.
My head tilted to the side as I turned to glance at who had addressed me. A uniformed woman, her blonde hair tied back beneath a black cap. She had sharp features and a cold intellect within her eyes that told me she knew what she was doing. Held some authority, no doubt.
“Captain Therta. I’m head of the subgroup of the central police force that deals with taking in minor villains, hero and police interrelations, and pretending that something will eventually change in this city.”
Her facial expression didn’t budge at all, so I wasn’t sure how much of that was a joke or the truth. She had the look of someone who was long term exhausted, but was devoted to her role. I jerked my thumb backward as a squad of heavily armored police marched into the graveyard.
[They’re all yours, then. A few injuries, but nothing dire.]
“Appreciated.” Captain Therta’s eyes finally left me to glance behind. “Looks like you got off lightly as well. Good. We always appreciate newbies who are effective and can do as they’re told.”
I took some offense to… pretty much all of that. Perhaps that was partly due to my souring mood. Before I could vocalize a response, some clamoring from the side of the park drew both of our attentions.
“Ah,” she said. “The actual trauma of the night.”
The press.
A barrier went across the entrance to the park, a waist-high wall with armed police stationed every few feet, keeping any of the public from getting in. Several figures were crowded around, various types of cameras or recording devices shining lights over toward us. Toward me.
The Captain shook her head and brushed her jacket off. “We’ll keep them at bay. You can head out the back way. They would have gotten a few shots of you, which is probably all that the League wanted. A job well done, soldier.”
I grunted and waved her off, not caring to engage further. More important than the little games and connections I had to start maintaining, I had a message from Roxy.
//Roxy: You killed it, Dubs x
//Roxy: So happy for you! I’m on my way back home now x
//Roxy: Will get that bubble bath started up ;)
//Dubs: You are an angel.
That sounded divine. I deserved it; I was sure. My mind dragged behind me as I passed through the exit, away from the lights and noise, down the street alone again. My bike was waiting for me there. It started up with no issue and took me down the road.
//Clara: I’m signing off for now.
//Clara: Need to bathe and decompress before Rockslide gets here and pesters me.
//Clara: Closing comms, but message if anything comes up, Gunquake.
//Dubs: Take as long as you need, I won’t be long.
With how tired I was, I actually had a hunger burning within me. Without being able to stuff food down my throat, I was in a bit of a bind. Nevertheless, I found myself pulling over to the nearest shop. A small indoor market partially closed due to the time of day. Even if I couldn’t absorb it till I got home, just buying it might help me feel a little contented and not so grumpy.
I switched the bike off and stepped off onto the pavement. My eyes hesitated in my lens as I went to message one of the pair, before thinking better of it. They deserved some rest, and I’d see them soon enough.
Before stepping toward the illuminated door of the shop, I paused and instead looked over to the opposite side of the street.
A tall building stood. Not unlike many others in the city that I had passed. Windows shuttered, with some minor graffiti on the worn boards. An office due for refurbishment, or something similar. That wasn’t what had drawn my attention, however.
There was something dragging at my conscious brain, similar to when I knew Silhouette was lurking around. It was different, not quite the same. I wanted to say… dangerous.
Leaving my bike behind, I crossed the road to satiate a different hunger now growing within me.