2.19

“Let’s go, let’s go, move out, people! We’re supposed to be arriving in about ten minutes, so get moving!”

The thunk of heavy footstep and rustling of machinery fills the garage as USMW infantry files into their respective vehicles. Engines spark and roar in unison, filling the space with a sort of frantic cacophony.

My own boots join the ruckus as I walk out onto the thick concrete floor and towards an open vehicle occupied by my team.

That’s Jet, and Decagon. Someone must’ve told him we’ll be out all day, because he looks pissed. He’s also wearing the exact same outfit he wore to the meeting, plus a pair of sandals.

Nearby, Commander Burke cuffs some younger guy over the head. “Stop whinin’ an’ get in the fuckin’ truck.”

He sighs. “Your vehicle’s over there, missy,” he says to me.

“Uh huh.” He follows along, barking at the squads loading up around us as I head towards my van. “So, are you gonna be joining us?” I ask.

He snorts. “Nah, I’m plannin’ to live long enough to collect my pension. Git.”

I step up and into the van, and he slams the door behind me.

The engine starts, and the machine rumbles.

—

“Still nothin’. Stand by,” Burke’s voice crackles over the radio. My team, Team Four, sits in the back of our vehicle, trying to pay attention to our comms without falling asleep.

We arrived at the location, or rather a little ways away from it, at around seven-thirty this morning. We’ve been sitting around waiting for about three hours.

“This is boring as fuck. Why didn’t they ask Tony t’ do this? I swear to god that guy could sit stone faced for hours,” Decagon complains.

He’s been complaining the entire time. Initially, I’d wanted to maintain an air of professionalism in front of the USMW officers.

“Who the fuck is Tony, dipshit?”

Obviously, this is not viable. Jet whacks the older man on the shoulder to emphasize her question.

“Hey — can you stop hitting me?! Tony’s — Megalith! You know Megalith, right?”

I do know Megalith. The third and final super in the USMC’s arsenal, at least here in Westpoint. He can control rocks. Big rocks.

“Hah? I don’t watch the news, stupid,” Jet fires back, whacking him again. At this point I think she’s doing it to fuck with him.

“Why not —“

The radio crackles. “We’ve got contact. All units, mobilize.”

One of the USMW officers chuckles. “Ready to beat some bandits?”

Decagon squints. “You’re a ghoul, y’know that?”

“We have visual via Rook’s intel. Looks like…” There’s a crackling. “The target is identified, tall latin-american male with graying hair and a trench coat. Accompanied by one of the constructs on file…”

Burke’s voice trails off for a second. “Construct One identified. Second construct unregistered. Additional surveillance via Rook has also detected seismic activity consistent with Construct Two’s behavior. Team Two, caution is advised.”

He clears his throat. “Panda members registered as Highlander and Runick identified. They are secondary. Stick to the objective.”

“Team One, deploy,” Burke starts.

“Team One, deploying,” I hear Rook reply.

“Roger. Team Two, deploy.”

“Team Two, deploying,” I hear Shield Warrior bark.

“Roger. Team Three, deploy.”

I hear a voice I don’t recognize filter over the comms. “Deploying.”

“…Roger. Team Four deploy.”

That’s us. I wait for Decagon to respond.

He blinks, slowly.

“…Team Four. Deploy.” Burke sounds annoyed.

Decagon lolls his head back. “Ugh! Fine!”

“Deploying, deploying! Whatever,” he mutters into his earpiece. Decagon hauls himself from his seat in the vehicle, stretching his back while Jet and I step forward and push open the doors.

We hop off the edge of the van, onto the hard concrete of a parking lot. “Roger. All teams, assume breaching positions,” Burke orders.

“God, he’s such a hardass.”

Jet and I both break into a sprint as soon as we hit the tarmac. I’ve studied the layout Burke sent us fairly extensively, and our assigned entry point is a back entrance straight ahead. Jet follows my lead.

I take note of the USMW vehicles dotted discretely around the building, and the stream of drones floating into position above them. Team Two’s meant to be covering the exits, Team Three will breach from an entrance on the other side of the building, and Rook will break in through the roof. Of course.

“Red — Red, I was thinking, and —“ Jet interrupts herself in order to propel herself forward with a burst of flame. “We really need to ditch that guy.”

“Which guy,” I ask pointlessly as we reach the entry point and crouch next to the doorway.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“You know which guy! I mean, really, look at him!”

We both turn to watch Decagon struggle to run in sandals.

I sigh. I hadn’t really wanted another infraction so soon…

“Fine. First chance we get.”

She grins. “Yes!”

Decagon reaches the entry point, huffing. “You girls… are really… killing me here,” he chokes out. “Cut a guy some slack, yeah?”

Our radio crackles. “All teams, prepare for breach!” I stand up and grip the door handle.

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

Decagon pushes up his glasses with the heel of his hand. “Welp. Showtime.”

“Breach!”

I wrench the door open.

Standing in the motel hallway are five tall men wearing black combat uniforms accented in a deep red and trimmed in a slick gold. They all wear full-face helmets and carry assault rifles that look straight out of a hard sci-fi book.

Decagon’s glasses slide off his nose a little as soon as he removes his hand.

“Shit.”

All three of us frantically dive out of the way as the crack of gunfire and the sharp sound of bullets whizzing past erupts from the doorway.

I hear shouting over the radio. “Team Three reporting! We’ve encountered a squad of heavily armed mercenaries — breach delayed!”

“Guess we’re not the only lucky ones!” Decagon shouts, grinning. “Looks like 12th Hour Dogs. Almost had me there!”

Then, he starts to glow.

Just slightly, a thin shimmering veil of gold emits off of him, moving in shifting streams of small gossamer light. As the gunfire drops off, he peeks his head around the door frame, ducking under another stray gunshot.

“Peekaboo!”

The shimmering veil around him sharpens into a thick ring of golden light, spewing waves of heat and distorting the air around it. A number of superheated rays of light pierce through the doorway, turning at unnaturally sharp angles and slicing straight through the mercenaries’ weapons.

“Much better. Now, uh, just sit tight for a bit, alright?”

The beams thin, losing some of their intensity and curling in on themselves in jagged spirals wide enough to cage all five of the mercs together.

The heat wafting off of the beams is stifling, not to mention the thick half-ring shimmering around him.

I try to keep my silence, but I find my will quickly degrading. “How — what the fuck does that have to do with a ten-sided shape?!”

“That’s what I told my PR team!” He shouts, strolling in through the doorway, and shifting his lasers to force the mercs out of the way. “Now come on, we might still finish before seven-thirty.”

—

We advance through the run-down motel, eyes darting over the crusty lining and peeling wallpaper, tensing at every flickering light and creaking floorboard.

Or, at least, Jet and I do. Decagon seems content to stroll through the motel like nothing’s wrong, hands in his pockets, shimmering with bending streams of golden light.

It’s annoying. I share a commiserating look with Jet.

“Mercs in the next room,” He mentions idly.

I stare at him. “How do you know.”

He shrugs. “You don’t hafta’ believe me.”

Jet ducks back behind him and tries to get my attention with a jerk of her chin. I nod towards the door supposedly leading to a room of mercenaries. She shoots me a thumbs up.

I roll my eyes.

Decagon walks up to the door and casually swings it open.

Another five mercenaries stand with their backs to us, seeming as if they were in the middle of a conversation. As soon as they see us, they twirl around, raising their weapons.

“Hey, fellas — woah!”

Jet swings her arms back and puts her flames on full blast, rocketing past the group of mercs, tackling one as she flies by, skidding to a landing on the rugged carpet and breaking in to a run.

Using her stunt as a distraction, I drop into a crouch, favoring my right leg.

I instinctively grit my teeth. Hope this works.

Flexing a muscle I hadn’t had before today, I launch myself past the mercenary group.

Something in my leg stretches, snaps into place with a sharp crack, and suddenly the limb’s extended. Wind rushes past my face and steam spirals around me as I put on a short burst of speed, only barely catching myself against the moldy floorboards some distance away.

Somehow, I manage to remember to reorient myself and start running.

“Ugh, seriously?! You guys…!” I glance behind me just in time to watch Decagon almost effortlessly duck and weave between bullets and frenzied attacks. Golden beams occasionally dart out and slice through weapons, or to limit movements, emitting a low drone.

We round the corner into another hallway before he has a chance to recover. Keeping up our current speed, I tap into the radio. I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to be going up.

“…encountered by friendly suppression drones, top floor third hall…”

Good enough for me.

Another few corners and we run into — and past — one of Rook’s drones, a new model with a large lens attached to the front.

I hear Rook’s robotic voice filter through my earpiece. “I’d hoped you would retain something from our earlier conversation.”

“I did!” I fire back. “This time I’ve got the chairman’s kid with me!”

Jet flips me off.

“Got any tips for us,” I continue. “Where are we headed?”

Rook sighs over the radio. “Head straight here,” she starts, and I direct Jet with my other hand while she speaks. “Then take a right at the end of the hall. There should be a stairwell to your left. Take that to the top floor. Team Two is holding off the larger construct in the alleyway outside, and I’m taking care of the two Panda operatives, but there’s a possibility of a separate combatant participating elsewhere in the building.”

“…Got it.”

“Please try not to be a problem.”

“Too late.” I switch off my radio.

We sprint straight down the hallway, following Rook’s instructions as fast as possible until we reach the turn.

Rounding the corner, we come face-to-face with another group of five mercenaries.

And, inexplicably, just as we run straight into this heavily-armed group, another small-time villain skids into the hallway at the exact same time.

Clockwerk.

Their attention seems split. I try to get over my shock and make eye contact with the shorter girl. It’s hard, what with the helmet, but I see her eyes sharpen and hope we’ve come to the same decision.

Jet leaps, fire leaving a burning streak behind her, and barrels boot-first into the nearest merc’s skull with a crack, sending him flying.

Clockwerk crouches, pulling something from her pocket and aiming it towards another two mercs. I hear a small click as her hand moves, and the contraption blasts open, wrapping her targets in a weighted net. They drop their weapons, stumbling to the floor and struggling to move.

I take the chance to step towards one of the last mercs, batting away his weapon and deflecting his responding attack. I can tell he’s well-trained, but thankfully not superhuman. I push past his defense with brute force and punch him in the throat.

While he goes down wheezing, the last mercenary aims her assault rifle and fires a couple precise shots, piercing my chest twice and just barely grazing my skull.

I twitch and activate my power, trying to stabilize, as Jet launches herself into a flaming roundhouse kick, knocking out the last mercenary immediately.

“Red!”

“Oh wow — is she gonna be okay?”

I have extra calorie bars in my pockets, so I can afford a little more stability in my repairs. I burn extra fat and muscle near the injured sites, enough to completely repair the fundamental structure, even if it leaves a nasty scar.

I leave the head wound alone. It’s not serious.

Dropping my power, I straighten my posture and reach for a calorie bar.

“Woah. Creepy,” Clockwerk comments. I ignore her.

“I’m fine,” I grunt, pushing past Jet and stepping over the felled mercenaries towards the door. I lift my helmet a little to take a bite. “No time to hang around, y’know. Let’s keep moving.”

Jet looks hesitant, but she follows me as I yank open the door and start sprinting up the stairwell.