Project Northwoods (107 page)

A flash of shadow preceded the gantry shaking. Dark Saint rose from his crouch in the walkway, staring at his son. “You’re bleeding internally,” he said coolly. “You’ve fractured multiple bones and yet you fight on.” He smiled. “I am so proud of the tenacity I’ve instilled in you.”

“How can you even call yourself a hero?” Arthur asked, trying to keep him talking until the sprinkler system activated. “Aligning with Catalina, wholesale murder… you’re irredeemable.”

His father scoffed. “The ends always justify the means.” Dark Saint gave a sinister smile. “And it isn’t like I wasn’t planning on killing Catalina for the murder of all those heroes.”

Arthur squinted at his father. “You paid her. Their blood is on your hands.”

“Semantics.” Dark Saint drew his hand back and summoned a fireball. In a quick overhand pitch, he hurled it at the unprepared Arthur. Instinctively and meaninglessly, his arms went up to defend himself, only to feel a sudden spray of water douse him. The fireball hissed in the water before slamming into him hard enough to send him spinning against the handrail. His shoulder ached, but the fire had dissipated in the deluge enough to render it relatively harmless. His father calmly ran a hand through his hair. “Technology is such a waste,” he muttered.

Arthur pushed himself off the railing as his father leapt at him and stutter-warped around him, punching his kidneys in the back, then the front, an aerial punch to the head, an uppercut as he fell downward, a punch to the back of the head, another punishing aerial cross, a thundering kick to his gut which launched him backward into a waiting palm which tossed him into the air. Airborne, the assault continued, blows raining on his body from all directions, culminating in his father appearing above him and smashing him into the floor before flipping off him and landing on his feet.

The gantry shook and groaned before, one by one, the cables snapped. Dark Saint lost his balance and stumbled backward as the walkway shifted and the rear fell to the floor. Arthur dug his hands into the metal walkway and pulled himself up, toward the still-horizontal portion. A hand wrapped around his leg, and he looked behind as his father stood as straight as he could, probably intending to hurl him to the floor. Arthur kicked down on his father’s hand, hard enough for Dark Saint to impulsively release it and somersault backward to the ground.

The walkway gave as Arthur pushed himself toward the stable area, his chest up and over the ledge as the rest plunged onto the computer banks below. It took a great deal of effort to haul himself up, the iron taste of blood pooling in his mouth. Finally, he was able to roll onto his back, feeling the water spray on his face. His head lolled to the side, looking at the countdown on the monitor. Four minutes, thirteen seconds.

Bracing himself on the handrail, Arthur managed to pull himself upright and stagger along toward the back of the room. The gantry buckled, and Arthur looked over his shoulder. His father, gasping, stared back at him. Arthur sprinted, feeling a numbness spread over his body as he tried to gain distance. His father collided with him, grabbing the back of his neck. Momentum carried them a little further before Dark Saint spun his son around and gripped Arthur’s neck tighter. Anger flicked across his face as he lifted Arthur into the air, shoving him over the handrail and over the computer towers.

He looked into his father’s eyes, seeing no sympathy as his own hands fought for purchase on the water-slicked forearms. “I had hoped to rule with you,” he said. Arthur’s eyes rolled back as his limbs slacked to his sides. His hand brushed against the stun-rod and tightened around the grip. His eyes flickered open. “But I suppose I’ll just thank you for the weapon and send you on your way.”

Arthur flicked the baton and activated it, Dark Saint’s eyes going wide as he saw the droplets of water hissing off the surface of it. He pulled Arthur toward him to gain leverage as his son brought his own arm back. Dark Saint shoved Arthur away as Arthur threw the baton. The weapon burst into brilliance against the metallic armor, sending Dark Saint to the floor as it fell after him. Arthur was falling away as the baton hit the metal gantry, an explosion of electricity flowing around his convulsing father, water conducting the charge into his exposed flesh.

Arthur didn’t feel the impact so much as he heard the pop of bones as the corner of the computer tower jammed into his ribs. He fell away and landed on the floor, the warm slag of one of the towers oddly comforting him. If he could just fall asleep, he was sure that everything would be better. He rolled onto his back as the sprinklers finally shut off. His head fell to the side.

“Arthur?” someone sighed in his ear. “Arthur, please, get up…” His vision started to blur as a shadow fell from the ceiling. He swallowed as darkness swirled over his eyes.

In a brilliant burst of pain, he was brought back to reality. His father was hefting him in the air, wobbling but still alive. “As long as you’re alive, you are going to watch me do this to your friends.” Throwing Arthur toward the monitor, he crossed to the console, reaching into the manual controls. “A fitting reward for defiance.”

“Manual control activated,” Overseer announced, bringing up the targeting system and globe.

“No…” Arthur croaked. Thirty more seconds… he failed with half a minute.

Something clanked on the floor and cracked into his side, but he couldn’t bring himself to see it. As Dark Saint wheeled toward the noise Julia shouted, “Step away from the console,” redirecting his attention. A swollen eye and bloody nose didn’t prevent her from aiming an ornate, single-shot pistol at her father.

He sneered in her direction. “I should have killed you properly, it seems,” he snarled, stepping away from the targeting computer. Arthur’s hand went limply toward whatever Julia had thrown at him, fingers playing over the leather handle of something heavy.

“Manual targeting lost. Twenty seconds remain until automatic targeting is activated.”

“What makes you think I won’t just bat those bullets out of the way again?” He chuckled. “By what miracle do you expect this to work?”

Julia smirked as best she could as Arthur got to his feet, shakily. “I have a hunch,” she said. Arthur leapt forward, bringing the Bowie knife down and into the exposed area between his father’s neck and shoulder. The hero shrieked in agony as Arthur released his grip. Dark Saint whirled around and blasted his son off his feet with a telekinetic shot, throwing him into a mass of twisted metal. He snarled and reached for the hilt when a grappling hook exploded through his gut, paralyzing him. With a whir of retracting cable, he was thrown off his feet and spun as the hook tore its way free. His face slapped against the cold floor before he weakly pushed himself up, hands slipping in his rapidly pooling blood. The cold metal of a gun barrel pushed up and against his forehead, forcing him to look into his daughter’s eyes.

“I liked you better when you were dead.” Julia squeezed the trigger, and her father fell away with the burst of gunpowder. Holstering her pistol and grapple gun, she rushed toward her brother. She fell to her knees and skidded the rest of the way.

Blood trickled from Arthur’s mouth in a constant stream. “J… Julia…” he muttered.

“Automatic targeting engaged. Three minutes until activation.”

“Arthur, dad’s gone,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Can you stop this thing?” she asked, looking over her shoulder

“No… it’s… too late… we have to wait…” She looked back at him. He had pushed himself upright in a slouch. She gasped in horror at the glance of a sharp metal chunk embedded in his gut.

“Arthur… fuck, no, no!” Her eyes flashed up to his. “We need to get…” Dark Saint gurgled wetly behind them, flailing limply. Julia sneered in disbelief. “How is he still alive?”

Arthur pawed at her, drawing her attention. “Must be… m… mimicking… Zombress…” He looked at her, swallowing roughly. “Run. He’ll kill you.”

Her good eye welled up. “I’m not leaving without you.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I thought you died once today.”

“I… I… love you… Julia,” he managed. He smiled, even as he shook in pain.

She tried to hold back her tears but failed. Julia stood and ran to the back of the room. As she neared the exit, she looked one last time at her brother. After a moment of hesitation, she ran.

“All for nothing,” Dark Saint growled, rising to his knees. His face, bloodied with glistening white bone still shining beneath the knitting flesh, glared at Arthur like the specter of death.

Claymore, hands bound behind his back, sat in the back of an Enforcer van he was sharing with five SERAPHIM as they waited to be transported to a holding facility. They talked amongst themselves about their alibis, leaving him alone with his thoughts. How had everything managed to go so wrong? He was supposed to be a hero, the greatest one since… well, since ever. But everything was dashed now. Even if he was acquitted, he was marked for life.

A bleeding and bruised Enforcer closed one of the back doors, shaking his head at the lot of them. “You’ll be on your way to your new home shortly.” He grabbed the other door. “Buckle up.”

As the heavy doors closed, Claymore saw the familiar red-haired girl, backpack hanging from her shoulders, dart between a pair of Enforcers and yank an earpiece off of one without breaking stride. The burgled officer slapped at the side of his face in annoyance and turned, but didn’t appear to see the girl charge toward the Heroes’ Guild. Claymore’s heart stuttered as he stood up and screamed, “Wait!”

The door slammed in his face with a hollow, metal clang.

Arthur was shoved violently against another computer tower and propped upright against it. Dark Saint shook violently as he moved, trying to keep his body intact. Arthur was twitching as he felt the blood drain from his body, leaving him cold. His father grabbed his head and shoved it back. “You’re going to want to see this!” he shouted, turning toward the green iris of Overseer.

“Requesting satellite data,” Overseer announced as the timer clicked to 1:45:00.

“It will all be over soon,” Dark Saint said to himself. “The dream has become reality.”

Arthur watched the screen, watching as Overseer presented a globe. It zoomed in over New York, and a red dot flickered into existence. “Primary satellite data acquired.”

Arthur’s eyes closed. “Please…” he whispered. “Mollie…”

Stair didn’t hesitate shoving open the bloody door to the security office. “Mollie, please tell me you hear me,” she said, hoping the earpiece she lifted off the Enforcer was functioning. She scanned the empty room, the blood heading to the card maker. She raced to it and took one of the blank cards from a nearby stack before inserting it into the machine. “Come on, come on, come fucking on!” she shouted, practically bouncing in place.

“I am glad you got my message,” Mollie sighed, startling the girl. “Get the card and head to the basement. I will guide you,” the computer chirped as soon as the keycard popped out of the reader.

“What about you, Mol?” she asked, yanking the keycard free and sprinting out of the room.

“Keep the wireless modem on and I will jump in when we are not going to die.” Mollie cooed as the girl ran toward the nearest stairwell. “I apologize. I meant to say ‘if’.”