It didn’t take long for the swarm of jets to head northeast towards Manhattan. From the information they had received from the police and images from the news, a plan was quickly devised.
“They’ve got the Terminal on lockdown at various points around it,” Terri said. “We need to take it back and secure the Park Avenue viaduct on 46th.”
“We’ll do that,” Effie offered from their jet.
“Great, thanks. We then need the viaduct taking on 40th. Any takers?”
“Ariadna and I will,” Ferris said.
“Thanks. Triplets, can you take back Lexington and 42nd, if I ping you that location to your jet? I need you to also help evacuate the Chrysler building.”
“We’re on it,” Mindy replied.
“Dylan and Pan, can you take Madison and 42nd?”
“Leave it to us,” Dylan said.
“Kimona, myself, Tobias and Do’Lânqwa will take the front so that they can then access and work their way in. There is a lot of different information coming from inside the Terminal so we need to be on our guard and watch out for fleeing civilians. The Sec has instructed the police to take care of the evacuation. Any questions?” she asked. There was no response. “Good. Make sure you’re all kitted up and look out for each other. No one’s dying on our last call out.”
***
The jets starburst from each other as they flew past One World Trade Centre.
Effie dropped Reuben and his bull off just above Madison and 46th so that her and her steed could approach on Lexington. When she landed, she whistled over a few police officers on their horses, which were dwarfed by hers.
“Look after the jet.” And she left, charging down the street without waiting for a response. She tore down the road, weaving effortlessly through the abandoned parked cars.
Reuben’s bull meanwhile was not weaving between vehicles. Instead, it just knocked them out of the way like they were no more than haybales as it ploughed undeterred in a straight line.
Very quickly they met in the middle, flanking the fifty strong crowd of armed Purists. Effie’s horse reared up on its back legs, neighing its own type of war cry and coming back down on all fours with a ground shaking stomp that sent some of the terrorists flying back. She already had her lasso out and swiped for the gunner who was turning his rifle from his spot-on top of an armoured truck.
Reuben sent his bull at full speed and full force at the side of another armoured truck, flipping and sending it flying into the corner of a building. He dismounted his beast and was rapidly firing the pistols he was dual wielding, jamming them back into his holster when they were spent, and flipping himself into the air.
By the time he landed in amongst a small group of Purists, he was already in berserk mode. “I can’t stand city types,” he snarled, lunging at the nearest and doing his very worst.
***
Meanwhile at the other end of the viaduct, a fully kitted up Justicia and Two Tone dropped from their jet which they had left hovering overhead, having activated the crowd dispersing frequency that pulsed down around them.
The fifty strong group of Purists who were stationed at the junction were struggling against the energy of the frequency and found themselves easy targets against Justicia in her purple jump suit.
Two Tone was able to get close enough to the ones he was fighting with, placing his hand over their face and stunning them with a bright light like one that peeks out from a photocopier, stunning them into unconsciousness.
***
Sediment Terri’s Falcon-One jet, carrying Agwé and Boy Beaver, and The Sheriff in his own Astral Jet, both came into land on top of the viaduct.
Terri caught a glimpse of her husband and his teammate dropping from their jet and wished that he would be alright.
“You all ready?” The Sheriff asked as they met on the road.
“I am,” Agwé said. Sediment Terri nodded and Boy Beaver gave an enthusiastic salute.
“Then let’s do this,” he said. Him and Agwé jumped down from the left side of the ramp whilst Sediment Terri and Boy Beaver dropped from the right, all landing on East 42nd below.
There were a lot more Purists holding the front, at least eighty, but between the four of them, they worked in sync.
Agwé knocked the top of two nearby fire hydrants, one on each side of the street, causing the water to erupt out of them. With just the slightest of will, she guided the fountains to snake and blast a dozen Purists down the road away from them.
Terri fought against a group, bringing earth from below the road up in snaking vines that she used to take out six.
Across the road, she saw a Purist get back up from having been water blasted and aim his gun straight for Agwé, who was preoccupied fighting some others.
Terri quickly brought up a wall just as he started firing. All the bullets deflected back and tore through him.
“Thanks Terri,” Agwé said when she realised.
“Sheriff, B.B, how are things looking?” Terri asked.
“Few more minutes and we will be safe to enter,” The Sheriff replied.
***
Further down East 42nd, Flip and Pan were giving their Purist foes an acrobatic and aerial beating as the two most flexible were using street furniture to launch themselves from to take out small groups.
Elsewhere, in the other direction outside the Chrysler Building, The Power of Three were organising themselves.
“You two stay out here, I’ll help clear the tall building,” Blane said to his brother and sister.
“You’re going to miss out on all the fun down here,” Mindy said as Blane flew to the main doors.
“Let’s light ‘em up,” Holt said to Mindy as they simultaneously started firing their brand of optic beams.
***
“Go!” Agwé shouted. “We got this covered. Time you went in!”
“Wish us luck!” Boy Beaver cheerfully called back as he and The Sheriff breached through the main doors.
Terri brought the viaduct ramp down and some earth up to block the entrance way. If her and Agwé failed to hold East 42nd, then they couldn’t afford for The Sheriff and Boy Beaver to be flanked from behind.
The foyer and Vanderbilt Hall with the Food Hall were empty, but with signs of disturbance. Food packets and stands were on the floor and other items from the shelves were broken underfoot.
It was in the main concourse that a twenty strong team of Purists were waiting for them.
“You freaks will not get past us!” one of them shouted, their commanding officer, it looked like, set behind the others.
The Sheriff scanned the group to establish their weaponry and threat to them. He was doing his best to ignore the fact that Boy Beaver was just a teenager still and had to rely on him looking after himself.
“I’ve been called a lot worse than that!” Boy Beaver shot back, stepping forward menacingly. “And you just try to stop us.”
The boy charged and The Sheriff backed him up, but he wondered if the teen was aware of the flame thrower at the back.
Gun fire went off, as The Sheriff had anticipated. They dinged off his armour and Boy Beaver had hit the ground in time, using his tail to springboard him up and in the air, landing directly in front of two shooters, knocking them down like pins.
The Sheriff punched, struck and blasted his Astral beam simultaneously, taking out as many as he could as quick as he could. He glanced over to check on the kid and was panicked to see him lying on the ground.
“Boy Beaver! Get up!”
A Purist was stood over him and about to stamp down on his head, so The Sheriff took off at top speed across the concourse and bowled straight at the Purist in time. Grabbing him, he flew him into the marble wall.
The Sheriff let go, unsure if the cracking he heard was the marble they crashed into or the skeleton of the Purist who was now lying limp on the ground.
Judging by the angle of their neck, it was reasonable to assume it was Purist bones breaking.
The Astral Sheriff heard a clicking sound which reminded him of the presence of the flame thrower that was still to be taken out.
Boy Beaver was on all fours, picking himself up, and noticed for himself the flame thrower was heading his way.
The teen got up just as the column of fire was blasted straight at him. The sound was tremendous and the heat and the smell intense, but in time, the boy leapt up, jumping again high above the fire, somersaulting in the air and coming to land just as the burst of fire had momentarily stopped.
“That was close, this is real beaver fur you nearly singed!” The boy charged and jumped onto the flame thrower nozzle and mid-jump, kicked the Purist square on the nose.
In the momentum, they both went down, the Purist dropping the nozzle and landing on his tank. Boy Beaver climbed off and reached for the nozzle.
“Are you ok?” The Sheriff asked, as he approached the Woodland Warrior, stepping over the bodies of the fallen Purists on his way. “I thought you were toast then.”
“So did I. Thanks for having my back there.”
“No problem.” The Sheriff came to the boy’s side and put his hand on his shoulder. He was still aiming the nozzle of the flame thrower back at the Purist who had tried to burn him. “Are you going to put that thing down now?”
“Why? He was going to barbeque me without a care. Why shouldn’t I burn him?”
“Have you ever killed before?”
“No. Not... directly. Although when The Lodge was attacked, I helped Agwé drown a whole bunch.”
“That is not the same. Here, you are looking into the eyes of the man you would be killing. Back at The Lodge, you had no choice. Here, you do.”
“I might have to kill Outbreak, you know, if you can’t,” Boy Beaver said defiantly.
“That is true,” The Sheriff considered. “But do you think the need to kill this man is the same as the one to kill Outbreak?”
Boy Beaver exhaled. “No, probably not.” He gave The Sheriff the nozzle and stepped away.
From behind him, the boy heard the click of the flame thrower coming to life and the screams of the man who knew that screaming was all he could do. He turned in time to watch as The Sheriff engulfed the Purist in flames.
“Wha-?!”
“Like you said, he had no qualms about doing this to you,” The Sheriff said simply.
“But what was all that to get me to not kill him?!” Boy Beaver couldn’t believe it.
The Astral Sheriff discarded the nozzle on the smouldering corpse and walked towards Boy Beaver. “I have lost count of how many times I have had to kill, but I still remember my first. It changes you, and I was a lot older than you are now, when I did it. If you have to kill Outbreak, then fine. When it haunts you, you can tell yourself it was the right thing… the only thing to do and that you did not have a choice. I did not want you to waste that on that anonymous Purist.” He squeezed the teen’s shoulder affectionately. “I have come here to finally end Outbreak’s chaos. Nothing and no one is going to stop me, and I did not want that Purist to get back up and get round behind us. There is too much at stake. Now, let us do what we came here to do.”
***
“Mindy! Holt! How are you doing down there?”
“We’re good. How’s the evac of the tower?” Mindy asked.
“Ok. There’s seventy-seven floors of this place and I’m already on sixty-eight,” Blane reported back.
The higher he got, the fewer people he had seen and they were all on their way out anyway. He ran back into the stairs to get to the 69th floor when he came across five Purist soldiers coming down.
“Oh. Oh hey there,” Blane said cheerfully as he took them by surprise. “What brings you up here?”
“Who are you talking to?” Holt asked, hearing the exchange through the communicator.
“Go fuck yourself,” one of the Purists bravely spat back.
“Well, that’s more of my brother’s thing,” Blane said under his breath as he lunged at the group.
“Ew, what is? Who are you talking to Blane, and what is more my thing?” Holt asked again, only hearing what his brother was saying.
Blane didn’t respond right away and blasted his planetary beam at the five, slicing right through them and killing them instantly.
“Sorry brother, I got told to go fuck myself.”
“Oh my God,” Holt groaned. “Who by?”
“Some Purists I came across in the stairwell.”
“They’re inside the building?” Mindy chipped in.
“Well they were. Technically, their remains are still in the building… but they’re very much dead right now, and there could be more.”
“Why are they all the way up there? The action’s in the Terminal,” Mindy wondered aloud.
“I don’t know, Mind! I didn’t give them a chance to say.”
“Well that’s just great. Go and see if there are any more in there,” she instructed. "And ask important questions before taking them out for goodnesses sake!"
“Yes boss,” Blane grumbled back.
***
Outside the entrance of the Terminal, Sediment Terri and Agwé were holding things down, on their guard for any more waves of Purist reinforcements.
Agwé had piled up the bodies and tied their hands to their ankles in case they came to and decided to have another pop.
A SWAT police officer ran down Park Avenue towards them. “Sediment Terri… Agwé. We have word from command…” he trailed off as a low flying GRAB Team jet came into view.
“Does anyone else see…?” Flip began asking over the communicator.
“Got a GRAB Jet coming in hot on us,” Effie added.
The one that appeared where Terri and Agwé were landed and out came Nauyerdunt and someone Terri recognised too well as Cryo Kasra from Alaska.
“Thanks for what you’ve done here, but we’re taking over now,” Nauyerdunt called out.
“Terri… I’ve got Size Queen saying they’re taking over from us,” Flip called out.
“We’re not leaving right?” Mindy asked over a transmission. “They don’t start for another week!”
“Wait a minute, keep them talking,” Terri said to her team. She turned back to Nauyerdunt. “And do what? The real work is going on in there and none of us are leaving until they finish the job.”
“Well we have orders,” Cryo Kasra said.
“…Terri, this hillbilly bitch is pissing me off,” Reuben said. “I’m not asking fer permission, just letting you know I’m about to drop her in the Hudson if she tells me she has orders to stand us down once more.”
“You can stick your orders and help us, or you’ll have trouble on your hands. I’ve got a Reuben itching for a fight.”
“Let’s scratch that itch for him then,” Nauyerdunt said.
“Engage them!” Terri yelled, her message going to the other members of The Collective.
“Move in!” Nauyerdunt also shouted to his teammates in the new Enhanced Monitoring and Accountability Team.
Across the checkpoints, The Rodeos fought with Budge, Flip and Pan went against Size Queen whilst Two Tone and Justicia went up against speedster Breakneck.
Nauyerdunt went invisible so Agwé countered it by making the fire hydrants spray out across the street, showing the invisible man’s outline.
Cryo Kasra, having the enhancements that provided them with cyrokinetic vision- the emission of heat-draining energy from their eyes, freezing anything on contact, blasted the gushing water Agwé was manipulating from the hydrants. The cold turned the water into razor sharp, structural and circular blades.
“Err… I didn’t know they could do that!” Agwé admitted.
“It’s ok! Holt, I think I need some of your sunshine here!” Terri said. “Swap you for Agwé!”
“Yeah, ok. We’ve got some old guy with an American flag on his chest who… keeps striking us… with... ow! Lightning!” Mindy called out.
“Is that…?” Terri asked as she punched Cryo Kasra in the jaw.
“I’ll head over now,” Agwé said, running off as Holt flew past her to Terri’s aid.
***
When Agwé arrived at the Lexington Ave intersection where Mindy was, she spotted a familiar face.
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“Old Glory!?” Agwé called out. He had his back to her so turned round.
“Ah, Agwé. I wondered if you would turn up.”
“What… What are you doing here? I thought you retired. I thought you hated what the Government did to you.”
“You know him? Mindy asked, descending carefully to stand by her side.
“Yeah, he’s the father of someone I know.”
“I’m... I'm just here following orders.”
“But why do you have those orders?”
“The heffa is down!” Reuben could be heard announcing.
“Breakneck too,” Two Tone reported.
Old Glory shook his head in resignation. He’d obviously heard from his colleagues the results of their skirmishes. “Look, I had no choice,” he admitted. “When Emele had cleansed the water at Allermond, Amber wanted her to be part of this new team she was making. I didn’t want that for her, but Amber threatened to impose restrictions on Emele and class her as a high risk Enhanced.”
“So you offered yourself instead?” Agwé realised.
“I’m her father. I needed to protect her. I had to do this.”
Agwé looked at Mindy and then at Old Glory. “We don’t want to fight. I don’t want to fight. We’re on the same team. You’re... You're just the newer version of it.”
“And I don’t actually want to fight with you either. I’ll call the team back, those who are still standing.”
Agwé and Mindy awkwardly cringed. “Yeah, sorry about that. We have a Reuben.”
“I’ve been saying we need more training as a team first, but Amber was pushing it all through prematurely.”
“Sounds like the witch,” Mindy scowled.
“We’ll go. You guys have it covered here,” Old Glory said. "We don't really start for another week."
***
Inside the Terminal.
“Now let’s do what we came here to do…” The Sheriff said.
“How are we going to find Outbreak now?” There are two levels of tracks here, up there and down there,” Boy Beaver explained. “He could be on any of the forty-eight platforms, Sheriff.”
“Well we know he’s on the-”
“Good afternoon beaver and alien, you’ve made it this far on your journey,” a voice boomed over the PA system. Outbreak’s voice. “The train leaving for a brighter future will be leaving in ten minutes. Search the screens for the right platform.”
“Brighter future? That sounds ominous,” The Sheriff muttered. He scanned the departure boards.
It was Boy Beaver who spotted the right time train. “There! It’s that one!”
They ran towards the right track in the hope of stopping Outbreak once and for all.
In the evacuation, most trains had left the platforms for safety, leaving the one Outbreak was supposedly on, sat waiting with its doors open. It was packed full of terrified passengers. Hostages.
And waiting for The Sheriff and Boy Beaver were fifty more Purists, armed to the teeth wearing gas masks and flanked a very smug and confident looking Outbreak.
“Welcome, you made it! And with minutes to spare!” He opened his arms with a warm greeting.
“Where is the train heading for, Fo’Vylrian?” The Sheriff asked.
“Not far actually,” Outbreak said. Then in a whisper, “…but it’s not the train…”
“.... But it is the people on it?”
“Yes!” Outbreak clapped, unable to contain his excitement. “Exactly!” he said again in a lower volume. “You got it! When these people get off and go about their lives, they’ll be spreading a highly contagious disease that will spread and grow and multiply, killing hundreds and thousands… And they don’t even know about it yet!”
“Why the fuck would you do that for?” The Sheriff spat. He shifted on the balls of his feet, comfortably getting ready to fight in an instant.
“Purity. A societal cleanse, with the greater chance of flushing out Enhanced people. That’s right, isn’t it?” he asked a nearby Purist soldier who nodded in confirmation.
“But that’s stupid, because you’ll be killing pure people too,” Boy Beaver said.
“A small price to pay,” Outbreak shrugged. The Sheriff hated when he shrugged.
“Governments will find a cure and just make a vaccine. They did it with the coronavirus years ago,” Boy Beaver challenged.
“Oh, but we have the vaccine already and produced.”
Boy Beaver looked over at The Sheriff in confusion.
“Why?” the grëhman asked.
“The Purists will roll it out to Pures within two months. But it could be sooner if…” Outbreak raised his eyebrows in anticipation The Sheriff working it out. But he didn’t get the response he was hoping for. “Oh c’mon! They can get it sooner if they turn against enhanced people!”
“There’ll be civil war across America,” The Sheriff muttered, the severity of the situation setting in.
“And hopefully the world over,” Outbreak added.
Boy Beaver angrily stepped forward, fists clenched. “I will not let that happen. I could just shout and warn them that they’re carrying this disease! Then that train won’t leave and we’ll kill you!”
“The kid’s got spunk,” Outbreak said looking at The Sheriff. “Maybe you’re right about the last bit, kid. You’ve kicked the asses of everyone in your way so far, you might just succeed… But even if you did tell everyone on the train what they have, it won’t save them.”
“Then I am done talking, and I am ready to fight.” The Astral Sheriff raised his hands and blasted two beams straight for two of the nearest Purists, knocking them back.
Boy Beaver, anticipating the moment, sprang into action. He was proficient in capoeira and cartwheeled into a group near him, performing an Au Sem Mão and taking out the closest to him.
He spun round, kicking out forward at the next in a move called the Bênçǎo at another.
A third Purist came for him, but Boy Beaver kicked his leg up, striking the man’s head in a Martelo, spinning to do a Martelo Invertido to the next foe.
With four down, the boy had a moment to gather himself, ready in the Ginga for the next round fancying their chance.
The next Purist charged, gun almost raised. Boy Beaver timed his next move with the Ginga, stepping into a low duck and sweeping his leg and knocking the gun away in a Meia-Lua Presa. Another Purist came from behind so the boy transitioned into a Pisão de costas, kicking out before The Purist could react.
A hand grabbed his shoulder spinning him around. Boy Beaver countered with a Joelhada, grabbing Purist head down on his knee, forcing it through the screen of the gas mask and knocking him out.
Straightaway, another closed in, and using his small stature to his advantage, Boy Beaver went into an Arrastão takedown, going in for a spear and taking the man’s legs out from under him.
Once down, Boy Beaver stamped on their stomach hard, winding them and preventing his foe from getting back up.
When Boy Beaver looked up, he saw The Sheriff put down the last Purist he was fighting with.
“Looks like we did it!” Boy Beaver panted.
“We are not done yet,” The Sheriff said, equally in a state of tired out. He pointed towards the train where, during the scuffle, Outbreak had moved to the safety of.
Outbreak started to sarcastically applaud the efforts of The Sheriff and Boy Beaver which caused those passengers around him to flinch uncomfortably at the apparent unhinged behaviour and concern for their own safety.
“You’ve done well, but you don’t give me enough credit. This isn’t the only train ready to leave. What? You’re surprised? I had to have a back-up plan, right, because now my chance of dying is a lot realer now that you wiped out my bodyguards. I just didn’t factor in the talking fuzz ball being here as well.”
“Another one? Sheriff, do you believe him?”
“Yes, I think he is not lying,” The Sheriff warned. “But then, I was wrong about him before...”
“A tough one for sure,” Outbreak teased. “Do you believe the liar?” He stroked his chin like a cartoon villain.
“I’ll go,” Boy Beaver said. “You’re better off here, finishing him.”
“But what if it’s guarded by another small army?”
Boy Beaver looked deflated, dropping his shoulders at the idea of having to do what he just did again so soon.
“Tick tock…” Outbreak called out.
“I’ll just fight them, like I did those,” the teen decided, feeling strong and brave.
“I know. Here,” The Sheriff pressed the badge on his waistband of the armour suit and within a second, it concertinaed back into the badge. He slipped the badge off his waistband and hooked it onto Boy Beaver’s, activating it with his fingerprint.
The suit engulfed Boy Beaver, fitting him perfectly.
“Holy shit!” the boy cried. “Fuck, please don’t tell Ulrika I swore. Both those times.” Boy Beaver wiggled in excitement and looked down at his hands, turning them over and examining the HUD in the helmet visor.
To The Sheriff, he looked like Ta’Balshén did when he tried a virtual reality headset for the first time.
“It doesn’t even smell in here! I thought it’d smell, Sheriff!”
The Sheriff managed a chuckle. “Go find that train and stop it if you can.”
“How will I get this off?”
“With my fingerprint.”
“Ok, well don’t blow up, or worse.” Boy Beaver said, turning and running off.
“You can fly in that too,” The Sheriff explained through the communicator.
“What? How?” The excitement was almost impalpable.
“Just think it.”
“… Ohhhhhhh holy shiiiiiiiit!”
The Sheriff, now just in the civilian clothes he had underneath his suit- black jeans and a burgundy tee shirt- stood and faced Outbreak.
He tried to ignore the fact he had never publicly revealed himself and here he was now in the presence of a few hundred New York commuters and tourists who now saw that he looked just like their captor, except with different coloured hair.
He just had to hope they were too scared and too fearful for their lives to photograph or film him. But then, these were humans after all, so they would probably still have their cell phones out.
The Sheriff strode purposefully to the carriage Outbreak was in, who in turn leant over to try to close the doors in time. Do’Lânqwa lunged, managing to get his fingers in the gap before they fully shut.
With ease, he prised the doors apart and stepped onto the train. The passengers cowered in fear and apprehension, squeezing themselves up against the walls or each other.
“You give grëhman’s a bad name,” The Sheriff snarled, punching Outbreak easily across the face. He stepped forward, grabbing Outbreak by the back of his shirt and head, and swinging him into the full-length floor to ceiling passenger handlebar.
Outbreak howled in pain as his nose broke, again, on impact. “It’s always the nose you go for!” he shouted furiously, clutching his face. “It was my best feature.” The incensed Sheriff rammed his head back in the pole again.
***
Boy Beaver quickly found the train, not far from where he just was. As he tried to stop himself flying, his coordination let him down and he fell down flat on his face.
Hoping a train full of people hadn’t just seen him do that, he approached it cautiously.
The doors were closed, locked in fact. He ran along the train to try another set of doors further up. The same, but this set of doors had a note on it.
“Sheriff, Sheriff! I’m at the train. There’s no one on it…”
***
“So you lied again!” The Sheriff roared, kicking Outbreak in the stomach while he was already down. “There is no one on the t-” but The Sheriff stopped to listen to what Boy Beaver went on to say through his ear. “…Shit. Warn the others and get up there.” He crouched down to Outbreak. “You are sick.”
“Well I had to give you something to work for. What? You thought you would just come here, stop me and save the day and all these people? Having the kid was cheating a bit and made it a bit easier for you.” He started to laugh. “But you couldn’t even tell that I was lying! Are you losing your touch? Are you sick?”
“You are so deranged that you convince yourself of the truth. It is unfortunate, but it reflects worse on you and your state of mind, more than my ability to detect falsehoods.”
"I'm just doing what I have to do to survive. This place is a cesspit."
"Survive? You would have been more successful not aligning yourself with The Purists," Do’Lânqwa reasoned.
"And be prisoner to your Government?"
"That would not have been permanent. You could have done good. Instead of causing harm, you could have cured it."
Outbreak shook his head dismissively. "I don't believe that would have been an option."
"I guess we will never know now. You have walked your path." Do’Lânqwa advanced towards Fo’Vylrian with a look of pure hatred on his face. A few of the hostages whimpered in anticipation of something awful happening.
He stood in front of the biological menace, who at this point gave an air of resignation. His bid to survive on this planet, doing what he could to be free and yet not be killed, had effectively come to the end of the line. And Outbreak knew it.
Putting his hands on either side of the evil grëhman’s face, Do’Lânqwa turned it sharply to the left, snapping his neck.
Outbreak's body fell in a heap onto the floor by Do’Lânqwa's feet.
It was down to the boy now.
***
“Guys, there’s a device! There’s a device in the top of the Chrysler building!” Boy Beaver shouted as he did the best he could of managing to fly through the concourse of the terminal. “I’m coming out through the main entrance!”
“I’ll clear the way!” Terri said, removing the earth and rubble that had ‘locked’ them in. As the ground flattened, Boy Beaver came torpedoing out. Terri and Holt were not expecting to see him in the Astral Armour.
“Why’s there a bomb in the Chrysler?” Terri asked as Boy Beaver flew past them.
“If Outbreak failed on the train with those infected people, then the blast was meant to spread the virus out through the air down on the city below. It’s a failsafe. The Purists hadn’t accounted on me helping The Sheriff.”
“That son of a bitch!” said Holt.
“Blane was in the building, right?” Terri explained as she ran towards the Chrysler.
“Well he did see and kill some Purists,” Holt added awkwardly.
“Jesus,” Boy Beaver sighed. “Well it’s in the spire, right at the very top. Where is Blane now?”
“Heading back up there, looking for whatever the Purists were up there for.”
Boy Beaver stepped into the road and looked up at the Chrysler building. “I suppose I’m going the express way up.”
“No, Blane will find it,” Mindy said.
“I’m going to fly it into outer space. I need to do it because if I can’t make it away in time, then I’m still immune to whatever is in it.”
With that, the armoured teen beaver took off, skyrocketing up the skyscraper from the outside, heading for the very top.
When he arrived, he blasted a hole in the steel spire, just enough to destroy the exterior and not the device itself.
“Sheriff, Terri… I’ve found it.”
“Kid you need to take it high into the thermosphere. Is there a timer on it?”
“Six minutes.”
“You’ll need eight.”
“Crap, Sheriff. I don’t need to know that.”
Behind Boy Beaver, appeared The Power of Three.
“You can do it. We’ll come with you and pull you further if we need to,” Blane said.
Boy Beaver didn’t hang around, grabbing the device and kicking back, taking the device towards the clouds with an escort from the triplets.
The speeds were exhilarating, nothing Tobias had ever experienced before. He was going higher and higher and luckily for him, the suit was able to regulate his oxygen.
“It has two minutes left!” Boy Beaver yelled.
Blane moved in closer, and took the hand Boy Beaver wasn’t using to hold the device. “Here, I’ll give you a boost!”
Boy Beaver felt a pull as he was thrown up by Blane, moving so quick that Boy Beaver started to feel the effects of G-force on his face.
“We’re past the Kármán line, Sheriff!” Mindy shouted.
“Keep going! Then at the last minute, get clear, including you, Tobias!” The Sheriff instructed from the ground. “You have been a hero today, and I want you back here to be a hero another day.”
“Thirty seconds,” Boy Beaver responded. “Guys, let go now. I’ve got a couple more seconds in me.”
The triplets obliged, not wanting to be near the blast themselves, not being as immune as the teenager was.
The three descended sharply, maintaining a watchful eye on Boy Beaver as he continued to rocket up, getting smaller as the distance increased between them.
“Ten… nine…” Mindy started to whisper to herself.
“Come on furry guy,” Holt urged.
“…five…four…”
And then an explosion erupted, balls of fire blooming against the black space.
“Tobias?!” The Sheriff yelled from the ground. “What’s happened?”
“The device went off. It just exploded, it went off a bit early,” Blane said.
“And what about the kid?” Terri asked.
“I... I don’t know yet. We can’t see him. We’re going up to check now.”
***
“Shit,” The Sheriff cursed, kicking over a trash can and running his hands over his head.
“Let’s just try to think positively,” Agwé urged, having met up with the others after leaving Old Glory.
“Yes, exactly. Tobias has got this. And Outbreak is dead. The CDC have already boarded the subway train and Tobias has saved New York. Whatever happens, he's done it. You both have,” Terri said, but she knew it was falling on deaf ears. He wasn’t hearing any of it, not until he knew the boy was ok.
He had to hear his voice.