Just Cause Universe 3: Day of the Destroyer (37 page)

“We already have a problem,” said Faith. “You and your partner up there on the roof. What’s he going to do, shoot us? You’re so gung-ho about going after a murderer. Are you ready to become one?”

“Don’t push me to find out. Now get your hands up.”

Faith hesitated. Her eyes flicked downward at super speed. Her radio was right there on her belt, only inches away from her hand. If she was fast enough… “I’m unarmed,” she said. “Never carried a gun. There’s no finesse in one.”

“It’s amazing what people will do when you’re holding one, though,” said Simmons. “Hands up, hero.”

“Do as he says,” Faith said to Shane and Gretchen. “Trust me.” As her own hands came up, her left hand flicked to her radio. She hoped the motion would be so fast that neither Simmons nor his partner on the rooftop would see it. Her thumb found the Send switch and locked it on.

No bullet smashed into her. Simmons didn’t seem to notice the small traitorous act. Even Harlan, who Faith now knew was working alongside the Federal agents, didn’t respond to her motion. Now she just had to stall until someone could come and help.

Just then, she realized that the night’s events had decimated Just Cause. A citywide blackout and one psychopathic thirteen-year-old had humbled and defeated the world’s greatest superheroes.

There might not be anyone left to come to their aid.

#

Harlan stared at Pony Girl and Gretchen. Hatred washed through his system, flushing uncertainty and doubt away. Pony Girl had helped take down Destroyer; he owed revenge against her. He didn’t know how or when he would exact it, but he would have plenty of time to plan and resources to implement it.

Harlan’s attention turned to Gretchen. Her lithe form filled the smudged Just Cause coveralls in a nice way. He still felt great attraction toward her. If only he could turn her, she would still be a good ally. Maybe she could teach him all the intricacies of sex, one great mystery about which he had yet to learn anything substantial. But then he remembered she’d been holding hands with the Con Ed guy. She’d made a choice, and it wasn’t Harlan.

Her loss.

His attraction to her crumbled as he realized she’d probably been fucked by that asshole. She was no better than the whores who worked the street corners in Harlan’s neighborhood.

Perhaps after Destroyer’s rampage, they might take their business elsewhere. Harlan knew that he’d begun to effect the change in society he so desired. All he needed was more time and another suit.

A stray thought of Reggie crossed his mind. Irlene must have found her by now in Harlan’s junkyard. He wondered if his security systems had gotten any of the superheroes. He doubted it; they’d been designed to defend against those on foot, not those who could fly. He’d never repeat that mistake again, he told himself. He didn’t need the junkyard lab anymore. The Feds would give him a real workshop, with legitimate tools.

He considered that Reggie was safe for the moment with Irlene. Just Cause wouldn’t harm her just to get back at Harlan, but he didn’t think that would last long. His first action once this standoff was over would be to rescue his little sister and bring her with him to a new safe place. He’d raise her the best he could, take care of her needs, and ensure she would be safe.

And she, of course, would be grateful.

“All right,” ordered Agent Simmons. “Ms. Gumm, step away from the others and come here.”

“I’ll stay here, thanks,” she said. “I think I’m safer in Just Cause custody.”

“You think?” mocked Harlan in derision. “What would you know about thinking, you stupid bitch?”

Gretchen’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“I can’t believe I even liked you,” said Harlan. “We would have been great together, and then you had to go get involved with some… some power guy.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” said Gretchen. “You’re just a kid, Harlan.”

Harlan bristled. “I’m more of a man already than most guys will ever be. Him included.”

“Shut up, kid,” ordered Simmons. “Last warning, Gumm. Walk away from Pony Girl and surrender.”

“Or else what?” called Pony Girl. “You going to start shooting at us right here in the shadow of our own headquarters? Gun us down here in the plaza?”

“If I have to,” said Simmons. “I’m representing the federal government here, and you’re breaking the law.”

A distant flash of blue and white caught Harlan’s eye. It wasn’t a cloud or puff of smoke floating in the breeze. It moved with a purpose. He gasped as he remembered what Pony Girl had just said. She wasn’t just talking; she was giving directions.

“Oh shit! Incoming!” screamed Harlan.

#

Tommy headed out toward the sea. He wanted to just cut loose, start a real tornado or something. He was so upset he felt he could easily launch a hurricane if he tried hard enough.

How could everything have gone so wrong in a single day? His hopes of love with John had been dashed. A woman who could have become his friend had died by her own hand, and with her dying words chastised Tommy for having the gall to save her life.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the sun as it pushed up past the horizon; he didn’t wish to see the city below, burned and broken at the hands of its own residents. What was wrong with people that they were so quick to turn on each other? Were they inherently savage, no better than beasts, without morals or creeds?

No. He wouldn’t believe that. There was still hope; there had to be.

And yet, over the flapping of his cape in the breeze of his passage, he fancied he heard Miranda’s voice, shouting at him, accusing him of his failures from Beyond.

Then he realized the voice was coming from his radio. Still angry at himself, at Miranda, at the world, he was tempted to ignore it. Or better yet, he could hurl the offending device into the sea and be done with it.

He pulled the radio from his belt and looked at it in distaste, ready to pitch it away, and perhaps likewise to pitch away Just Cause with it. He couldn’t keep being a hero when he no longer believed in those ideals.

“
You going to start shooting at us right here in the shadow of our own headquarters? Gun us down here in the plaza?
” The voice on the radio was Faith’s, he realized. She was in trouble.

He didn’t hesitate. He wheeled about and poured on the speed, blasting toward the World Trade Center plaza on a sheet of hurricane-force wind.

As Tommy approached his destination, he caught a glint of sunlight on glass and motion from a spot on a rooftop where none should be. He flipped sideways in his headlong flight just as he saw a muzzle flash.

Pain hit him like a fist to the ribs, knocking the breath from him. It radiated outward like fire spreading across a fuel spill. He’d been shot!

The sniper wouldn’t get a second chance. Tommy recognized Agent Stull as he closed with the rooftop. The pain in his side forgotten, Tommy blew the rifle out of Stull’s hands with a precise blast of high-pressure wind. Stull staggered and went for his sidearm.

Tommy was having none of it. Repercussions be damned. He blew Stull right off the roof. The agent yelled as he spun out into open air, and yet still retained enough presence of mind to squeeze one shot off at Tommy from his pistol, which missed.

Tommy created a downdraft, the kind that hurtled jets down hundreds of feet in seconds, and used it to pound Stull into the plaza with the force of a small meteorite.

He’d never killed before, and he searched his soul for any feeling of remorse or contrition and found none.

Black spots started to tinge his vision. Tommy looked down to see his blue and white costume had gone crimson as blood pumped from his body with each beat of his ice-cold heart. He grew dizzy and the plaza spiraled up to meet him as with his last energy he slowed his plummet to wafting down like a dead leaf before succumbing to the darkness.

#

At Harlan’s warning, Gretchen saw the federal agent covering them stiffen. Despite her weariness, she started to call on her power once more to defend her and those she cared about. Then a gunshot rang out from overhead and Shane tackled her, knocking the wind out of her.

Gretchen gasped like a fish out of water, trying to regroup herself enough to use her power.

Pony Girl never hesitated. The moment the agent’s attention was overhead, she charged at him. She staggered on burned and blistered feet, but even limping, Pony Girl was faster than everybody.

Harlan flung a fistful of shiny things at the ground. From her vantage point on the cement, Gretchen could see they were nuts and ball bearings. She had no breath with which to warn Pony Girl.

The speedster stepped on one and lost her footing. She skidded across the cement, shedding bits of skin and costume as she bounced to a stop.

Gretchen gasped as Shane held her tighter. “Get off,” she said. Shane rolled to one side and she sat up, ready to stop the agent from shooting Pony Girl while she was down.

Except his gun wasn’t pointed at the speedster on the ground; it was pointed right at Gretchen. The look on his face said it all. She was going to die at his hands.

A body hit the cement hard enough to crack it. Chunks of flesh and bone scattered outward from the point of impact. The agent staggered back in shock and disgust, and then horror as he recognized his erstwhile partner.

Tornado slumped down to the plaza from overhead, his costume bloodstained from a wound in his side.

Shane grabbed Gretchen’s arm. “Run, while you can,” he said.

Gretchen had no intention of running away. She’d spent far too much time running the last few days. It was time to stand and fight. “Go help Tornado,” she said. “I’m the only one left to stop that guy.”

“Oh goddamn, goddamn!” Madness tinged the remaining agent’s blood-spattered face. He backed away, his gun hanging forgotten at his side.

Harlan grabbed Gretchen’s arm. “I got her,” he said.

“Get off me!” she screamed, and flung him aside.

A Swiss Army Knife appeared in his hand. He unfolded the blade. “Kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!”

And then he was small, the size of a Barbie doll. Imp dropped from the sky and slammed a heavy trash can upside down over him. “I’m sorry, Harlan,” she cried.

Galvanized into action, the federal agent raised his gun again and pointed it at Shane, whose back was turned as he knelt down beside Tornado.

“No!” Thunder roared between Gretchen and Shane as she used her power to pull herself toward him faster than even Pony Girl could run. The blast of air flung her across the intervening space and slumped against him just as the agent fired. She raised her hand, letting the power loose one last time and imploded the agent like the rat in the sewer. The instant vacuum rent and tore him to shreds.

Gretchen smiled at Shane. “It’s okay,” she said. Her voice sounded strange in her ears, breathy and bubbly at the same time. “I stopped him.”

Shane gasped. His arms went around her as the world spun. She couldn’t feel them. She couldn’t feel any pain.

She couldn’t feel anything.

“Oh God! Gretchen!”

She found it hard to reply. She couldn’t seem to draw enough breath. “I’m sorry… Shane. I would have… loved to be… your girlfriend.”

The world got brighter and whiter and Shane called her name over and over from many miles away.

Chapter Twenty-Two

July 14, 1977, 6:00 AM

Faith hobbled through headquarters on her turned ankle with the help of a crutch. She’d cried a little for Gretchen, but she was too exhausted to grieve for the girl she’d barely known who died protecting her friend. She’d given a statement to the police to explain the injuries to her teammates and the two dead federal agents. At least, she thought she had. She was so tired she really had no idea what she’d told them. Whatever it was, they seemed satisfied enough not to press further.

Lionheart returned to headquarters with his ribs taped up. He stayed a discreet distance from Faith, for which she was grateful. Instead of the warm afterglow of lovemaking or the excitement of a shared secret, she was wracked with guilt.

She checked in on Shane. Bobby had set him up in a small side office where he could rest and recuperate, telling him to take as long as he needed. He sat at the table, his head pillowed on his folded arms, and slept. Her heart went out to him. He’d taken Gretchen’s death particularly hard. From what Faith gathered, the two had become close over the course of the day, and she’d sacrificed herself to save his life.

“How’s he doing?” Faith turned to see Bobby standing in the hall.

“He’s asleep,” she replied. “Poor guy.” She took a deep breath. “Bobby, I’m sorry I screwed things up tonight. First that horrible kid with his machine burning down Harlem and then Gretchen and the Feds. I’ve left a hell of a mess to clean up and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure things are right.”

“It’s a mess, that’s for sure. Dead federal agents attract the wrong sort of attention from the government. So do thirteen-year-old psychopaths. It’s bad enough we’ve still got Son of Sam running loose out there somewhere. New York gets enough bad press without stuff like this going on.” Bobby sighed. “It’s only going to get worse from here.”