Two

Nerve Centred

Or: “In Which We Meet Nerve In A Not-So Sleepy English Hamlet.”

“Nerve is one of our best. What he lacks in social graces he makes up for by being simply the best damned soldier we ever made. I think… he’s probably one of the most sensitive as well. But don’t mistake me. He’ll get the job done.”

Attributed to [REDACTED], circa October 2028.

Marwood, England, April 4th, 2035.

There were an unusually large number of reasons why no one in their right minds would ever have asked the man called ‘Nerve’ what his retirement plans were. The most important one being that no one ever asked what any of his plans ever were – he was an altogether solitary sort of chap at the best of times, and not even someone who was as admittedly myopic and cynical as he was could call a brand new apocalyptic war ‘the best of times’.

Leaving that aside, Nerve also had a reputation. It was always a bit odd for him to think about that reputation in terms of being called a ‘supervillain’, but that was the technical term now, wasn’t it? He was a ‘supervillain’: a man with powers beyond those of ordinary people. He had Abilities, and the man who had stopped him back in the day had also had Abilities. The fact that his abilities amounted to little more than being fast, strong, and not feeling much in the way of pain made little difference to most people. Nerve was Not Normal.

Even after serving his sentence (albeit a commuted one based on him being a walking box of classified information), he had never been able to settle for a normal life. Part of the NDA he had signed (in exchange for never publicly talking about all the aforementioned walking box of classified information) meant that he had a small stipend that allowed him to live a very quiet life in a very small English village. Before this war business had happened – really, before this Aeclisse business had happened, including the war with Primus, the arrival of Regalia Sol, and all the accompanying nonsense that he still didn’t understand or want to – he had been more than content to simply live in that village and have nothing to do with the outside world ever again.

Beats being shot at, beaten up by Spalding, or poked with Starfall corp’s needles.

That, of course, had been before. These days, things were a mite different – as the marching soldiers in plate armour he could see coming down the street of his home village indicated. He was holding a sniper rifle, sitting at a top floor window of the local village hall and staring down the scope at the column of Aeclissian ‘Union Guard’ as they marched.

Twenty five soldiers, he thought, his analytical mind observing the approaching group of soldiers carefully. A single Commander – not a “Captain”, likely a sergeant or whatever the Aeclissian equivalent was – backed by a collection of their troops. A few with their long-range weapons (Nerve had never bothered learning what they were called) and more with spears, swords and shields – all of which were magically enhanced, Nerve knew.

Still, enhanced or not, they’re no match for me.

It hadn’t been difficult to arm himself when things started getting dicey – he had more than a few underworld contacts who had been happy to drop off some extra crap for his arsenal, not to mention a few passing supply convoys where things fell off the back of a van, which was a nicer way of saying it than ‘got stolen’… though in truth, more than a few passing soldiers recognised Nerve from the old news reports about his ‘exploits’, so there were some actual cases of ‘falling off the back of a van’ too.

It had also been surprisingly easy to convince the people of the village to trust him when he started telling them where and how to hide. And he really had been surprised about how well they took everything – after all, he was Nerve, the ex-Supervillain who had once tussled with Reflex of the Guardians. That was the sort of reputation that a man didn’t, generally, get past in a small, gossipy village like this one.

But on the other hand, if they know someone is competent at what they do, they’re less likely to ask questions, he thought. I guess war makes strange bedfellows of us all, or whatever the fucking saying is.

He allowed the thought to cause the twitch of a smirk, but quickly stopped the amusement. He took a tiny, almost imperceptible breath, and centred himself.

Hold the breath, he thought. He took aim at the officer at the head of the column. Hold. Hold.

The officer at the head of the group turned, bellowing some order or another. Then, as if by serendipity, the idiot took his helmet off -

Oh.

It wasn’t a he. It was a woman – or at least sure as hell looked like a woman – with long brown hair tied up behind her head in a ponytail. She was beautiful, but had a long, thin scar down one cheek. Yet her face was close enough to hers that he hesitated for a fraction of a second…

But only a fraction.

Nerve, centred. That’s what she would have said. The memory was vivid in his mind as a bullet lanced out from the muzzle of the sniper rifle. He had customised the rifle carefully – silencer, muzzle flash dampener – but he knew he had a maximum of one more shot before he had to move.

The officer’s head turned into the bullet, which lanced right through her eye socket and back out the other end. She stopped still for less than half a second, her body registering what had happened, before slumping to the floor. Before the soldiers could react, Nerve had fired again, a second shot lancing through one of the soldiers carrying a ranged weapon. Blood sprayed from the thinner armour around his neck, and he fell to the floor.

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The reaction from the Aeclissians was so slow that Nerve actually managed to get a third shot off, taking out one of the troops with a shield. Not the best bet, as it happened, because the remaining soldiers with projectile weapons seemed to have gotten a bead on his position, and were firing at him.

Quick exit time, then.

Getting up and racing to the next window over was his best bet, at least if he wanted to get one more shot off. It was a relatively decent distance away, but unfortunately whoever was calling the Aeclissian’s shots was encouraging them to think creatively and fire at all the windows.

Just my luck I’m fighting smart people, Nerve thought with a grimace. Fine, plan B.

He quickly bolted down the stairs, moving to the back door of the village hall before racing for the local church. It was the second best bet he had as far as vantage points went. Behind him he heard the shouts of his enemies – as well as the bark of one or two Starfall-model automatic defence turrets he had left lying around, the little portable miniguns giving the illusion of manned resistance in the village hall just a little longer, giving Nerve time to get to the door of the church and run up the stairs of the tower. The harsh sound of the turrets continued, but Nerve ignored it as he set himself back up.

The road from the village hall to the church was hidden enough that he had not been seen, and he saw the enemy troops milling about the hall, surrounding it as though laying siege. Clever – they had cut off the back exit not two minutes after he had escaped through it. If he hadn’t been who he was, he might have had problems.

But he was, and so instead he took aim again.

Nerve, centred, he thought again as a soldier with a battleaxe came into his sights, the Aeclissian swinging at the back door to break it down. He fired. The man fell. The Aeclissians didn’t seem to register that the shot hadn’t come from the village hall, and so Nerve got three more shots off before they realised he was firing from elsewhere. It was another two shots before whoever was left in charge finally figured out where Nerve was shooting from. By that point, there were only ten or so left – the turrets must have killed at least some of them. But the rest… there was no way he’d get to another vantage point before they reached him.

Close quarters, then, he thought grimly. Fine.

He dropped the sniper rifle and drew a single heavy-calibre pistol from a holster, before moving to the staircase of the church tower. He could hear shots from the remaining enemy projectile weapons impacting the building, but he was far enough away from the window that he didn’t need to worry. Then he heard banging on the door.

Here we go.

The first soldier who burst through the door had a heavy axe – he took a bullet from Nerve’s pistol straight between the eyes, which was impressive considering he was wearing a helmet. Before he’d even dropped, Nerve had grabbed the axe from slackening fingers, before hitting the soldier immediately behind with it straight in the chest plate with enough force that it went through the heavy plate armour and sent the Aeclissian sprawling backwards, gasping for air. Nerve brought the pistol up and fired again, and another two Aeclissians went down, blood spraying from wounds to the sort of small-yet-vital areas that meant they were going to be dead in the next two minutes. In a way, Nerve almost felt like he was moving on autopilot.

I mean, I am, he thought bluntly. This was almost the boring part. His body knew what to do – when to move, when not to move, when to dodge and when not to dodge. He just had to let it happen.

The Aeclissians weren’t terrible fighters, when it came down to it. He had to duck slashes, sidestep thrusts and hacks, and more than once only his superhuman reflexes saved him from what would have been a very nasty end. But after a few minutes, it was all over.

They were all dead.

Their bodies were sprawled around him, bullet wounds in all the vital areas (Just like they taught you, Nerve). Something in Nerve was buzzing. A tingle, like a niggling afterthought, except deep in his muscles. He took a breath, trying to steady himself, but it wouldn’t go away. Only after a moment did he realise it was because he could still hear movement, further in the village. He brought his pistol up, careful not to move too quickly in case he was about to deal with a dozen more Union Guards.

Instead, however, a platoon of regular old Earth soldiers appeared.

Their uniforms were black, the sort of utilitarian military fatigues that a dozen different paramilitary and pseudo-military groups used. Nerve did not lower his pistol as their leader – a dark-skinned woman with sleeveless fatigues – spotted him, held up one hand to keep her team back, and approached him.

“Are you Nerve?” she asked.

Nerve said nothing, but did not lower his pistol.

“I’m Clark, Lisa Clark,” the woman said after a moment. “We were sent here to find you. We’ve come with an offer.”

“Not interested.” Nerve still did not lower his pistol. “Goodbye.”

Clark wet her lips, apparently not satisfied by that answer. “Look. My bosses sent me out here to find you. They’re not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. We can make this easy, or we can make this hard.” She half-shrugged. “Your call, pal.”

“Well, unless you’ve got Spalding with you,” Nerve said flippantly, “there’s not much chance of you getting me to come quietly.”

Clark gave him a rueful smile. “Beg to differ.”

And then Nerve felt a cold metal blade at his throat.

“Move, please,” a harsh, strangely-accented female voice hissed in his ear. “I really want you to.”

Nerve scowled. Clark smiled. Nerve dropped his pistol, and it landed on the ground with a heavy clatter.

“There, see?” Clark said. “Told you.”

***

After that, they bundled him in the back of an Armoured Personnel Carrier without much ceremony. The woman who’d had a knife to his throat turned out to be a woman with white hair, dark purple skin and a blindfold over her eyes, a perennial scowl plastered on her face.

“Don’t mind Shayla,” Clark said. “She looks like that with everyone.”

‘Shayla’ made a soft ‘tsk’ sound, but said nothing. Nerve could appreciate the silence, at least – being taciturn was half of how he had survived, too.

“What do you want from me,” he said to Clark.

Clark only chuckled as the APC began moving. “That’s a long story, Mr Nerve.”

“‘Nerve’,” Nerve said, grimacing. “Just ‘Nerve’. No titles.”

Clark nodded once. “If you say so, Nerve.” She paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Look, I have to ask – why were you in this town?”

Nerve did not answer. After a moment, Shayla made another ‘tsk’ sound.

“He wanted to be left alone,” she said, her voice a husky growl.

Clark frowned at her. “How’d you know that?”

Shayla turned her head, her sightless, blindfolded eyes looking directly at Nerve.

“He’s a warrior with nothing left to fight for,” she said. “I know that feeling very well.”

Nerve snorted. Sure you do.

Shayla made another ‘tsk’ sound. “He will be perfect.”

For what? Nerve thought, but since Clark had been vague and reticent on that point, he didn’t see any reason to ask again. Everything would likely work itself out, and whichever suit wanted the famous Nerve to do something, they’d show themselves soon enough.

“Hey,” Clark said after a moment. Nerve looked at her, and she had a surprisingly friendly smile on her face. “Welcome to ESP.”

Nerve only frowned. Who?

***