Seven Wonders (26 page)

  "The Omega gangs are 'out of hand', says police chief Charles Gillespie. Speaking with the mayor on the steps of City Hall, Gillespie today said that the criminal gangs – who take their name and colors from the symbol worn by the Cowl – are entrenched in several poorer areas of the city, terrorizing residents and causing millions of dollars' worth of criminal damage. Gillespie took the opportunity to publically call on the Seven Wonders to take decisive action, as the problem was now beyond the capacity of the SVPD to deal with effectively.

  "Investigators tonight are looking for a suspicious car seen driving in the Tempest County area following the latest of a string of arson attacks…"

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

San Ventura mornings in summer were generally foggy, the hot air sweeping off the desert inland mixing with the cool air from the Pacific, the resulting condensation dumped right on top of the coastal city. For those up early enough, before the thick gray mist was burnt off by the Californian sun, it was a pleasant relief from the egg-frying temperatures overnight. The cooler temperatures brought joggers, commuters, and old people out for a walk through one of the city's many parks. Early morning in San Ventura was the best part of the day.

  Tony stood at the kitchen basin, looking out of the small window at the mural on the flat cinderblock wall of the building opposite. The ocean scene was a peculiar mix of Sixties surfer art and traditional Japanese illustration. It was beautiful, and perfectly positioned to be enjoyed from the row of apartment buildings that lined this side of the street. That it hadn't been whitewashed by the city wasn't too much of a surprise. San Ventura had a strong art community, and while the mural was probably listed on a chart of graffiti problems, the city council would have given a tacit agreement to not get around to erasing it for, oh, thirty or forty years.

  "Hey," said Jeannie, padding into the kitchen. Tony turned from the window and smiled, then reaching out, took her hands and spun her around to embrace her from behind. With his arms around her waist, he planted a kiss on the back of her neck.

  "Hey yourself." He said, then: "Time for tea. Hot and black!"

  Jeannie shook her head and laughed. "The one time of the day the temperature is livable, and you want a hot drink? Are you sure your superpowers don't include retarded in the head?"

  Jeannie pulled away, and Tony smiled knowingly at her as she turned back around. He held a finger upright in a mocking gesture of silence, then grabbed the electric jug. After filling it from the faucet and replacing it on its base, he touched its metal side with his hand. Almost at once, the sound of boiling water echoed from inside, steam billowing from the spout. Five seconds later he had poured the water into a teapot, the side of the still disconnected electric jug glowing a faint orange.

  "Wow!" Jeannie's faked surprise made Tony laugh. Mouth wide, she raised her hands to her face in pretend shock, then almost jumped on Tony in a bear hug. "You're my hero! Superhero tea-maker extraordinaire!"

  "What
ever
." Tony laughed and they kissed. After a while he extricated himself and moved to the sink to finish making his tea. He glanced up out of the window instinctively. Now there were a couple of black vans parked in front of the mural. It briefly crossed Tony's mind that this was odd, as it was a no-stop zone, but he also knew that parking violations in this part of town were not uncommon.

  "I'm on the afternoon shift at work today," he said, still looking out of the window. "How's your head? You feel like doing anything this morning?" The bruise on Jeannie's forehead was fading fast but he knew that a bump like that took a while to come right.

  Jeannie leaned back against the counter. "Yeah… no… maybe. It's early! How do you manage to be so alive after just two hours' sleep, anyway?"

  "Tea and apples!" Tony opened the small fridge and took out a small red apple. "They can make up for a lot of lost time, you know. People think coffee is the answer.
Uh-uh
." He waggled his finger again. "Apples. Tea. A magical combination."

  Tony stirred the teapot, and the apartment front door exploded inwards. He dropped the apple and jerked his other hand, overturning the pot and sending scalding hot liquid across the bench and splashing Jeannie's bare feet. "The
fuck…
?" was all he managed before the shouting began.

  The door had come completely off its hinges and was buckled at the center, and lay at an angle like a makeshift skateboard ramp. In the corridor beyond, Tony could see a black-clad, helmeted man step backwards, pulling a two-handed battering ram out of the way as two similarly attired comrades rushed in. These ones were carrying formidable automatic weapons, their laser-assisted sights firmly pressed against their protective goggles, eyes expertly trained along the stub barrels. Four letters in bold white advertised their affiliation across each armored chest.

  SVPD.

  Tony blinked. Yesterday, superheroes. Today… this?

  Behind them, lingering for a moment longer just around the edge of the doorway, were two plainclothes police – detectives; a man, dark and Latino, and a platinum-blonde woman − with black Kevlar vests strapped over their shirts, regular pistols held close and at the ready. Both wore clear protective eyewear.

  "San Ventura Police Department! Do not move! Do not move!" The command from one of the armored police was screamed at Tony's direction, and seemed perfectly unnecessary. Tony was frozen in shock, hand and arm still outstretched from when they had been holding his freshly brewed tea. He blinked away the dust from the shattered door and glanced over his shoulder, towards the kitchen, but Jeannie was nowhere to be seen.

  The two detectives moved into the apartment. Both kept their guns pointed at Tony as the heavily armed cop who had given the order gestured for his colleague to explore beyond the room. Behind, the male detective backed off a little, and started looking around the room. His companion's gaze never shifted from Tony.

  "Where's Jean Ravenholt?" she asked.

  Tony coughed. The question was something of a surprise. Apparently, they weren't here for him, they were here for… wait, what?

  "You mean Jeannie? What do you want with her?"

  The male detective paused in his survey of the room. "This your apartment, Mr Prosdocimi?"

  Tony nodded. The female detective adjusted her grip on her gun. "We don't have time for this. Is she here? We'll turn this place upside down if we have to."

  Tony's mouth twisted into a smirk. He just couldn't help it. He saw the reaction it provoked in the detective, one of surprise and suspicion, her head moving back a little as her eyebrows dipped together over the bridge of her nose.

  Three guns? Easy.

  "Something funny?" asked the male detective, casually stepping closer.

  Condescending prick.

  There was a cry from the kitchen. Tony turned to see the armored policeman return to the front room, machine gun in one gauntleted hand, the other wrapped around Jeannie's upper arm. She looked pissed, but didn't struggle.

  The female detective adjusted her aim, moving her gun from Tony to Jeannie.

  "Jean Ravenholt, aka Blackbird, you are under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder, terrorism, conspiracy to commit terrorism, treason, conspiracy to commit treason…"

  "Blackbird?" Tony interrupted the detective's recitation of charges. Nobody spoke. The detective's eyes flicked up and down Tony, standing barefoot in pajama bottoms and black T-shirt.

  "Somehow I don't think you're the Cowl, but we're taking you in as well. We have you on CCTV from the California Cooperative Bank."

  Tony ignored her, and took a step forwards. All four guns instantly moved in his direction. The policeman who had used the battering ram appeared in the apartment's doorway, his own gun now raised.

  Tony glanced sideways at Jeannie. Her demeanor had changed, her face now white, eyes wide, her whole body trembled gently in the policeman's grip. Tony's expression had turned from surprise to anger.

  "Tony, it's… I…"

  "Y
ou're
Blackbird? You're the Cowl's bitch? What the
fuck,
Jeannie? Please tell me she's full of shit." He jerked his head towards the female detective.

  Jeannie took a step backwards. Tony watched the fear spread over her. Things began to make sense: her schedule of training, her mysterious job, how she had access to the tech required to make his Justiciar costume. All of it. It all made sense. Clearly his new superpowers – which, somehow, she must have had a connection with – including gullibility and falling for any old made-up shit.

  Tony clenched his fists and Jeannie flinched. Tony saw the look in her eyes. She was afraid, not of the police. Afraid of
him
. She knew what Tony was capable of now.

  Huh. Superpowers. It had to be her. This might have been a strange city where weird shit could happen, but it couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Tony shook his head, amazed that he could have been so blinkered.

  The male detective sniggered. "Hold on, lovers, save it for the station. Officer?"

  The first armored policeman stepped towards Jeannie, unhooking a set of powercuffs hanging from his belt as he did so. The restraints were wide manacles, complete with mini keypad control and winking LEDs, and had been developed by Hephaestus for restraining superpowered criminals. Given that Blackbird and the Cowl were the only two left, and had been for a couple of years, Tony realized this must have been the first time they'd be used in quite a while.

  Tony kept quiet, ignoring the cops, and returned his stare to Jeannie. A hundred emotions coursed through him: anger, jealousy, love, and fear were just a selection.

  "Tony, we need to get out of here." Jeannie's voice was low, not a whisper, but quiet and slow, emphasizing each word clearly so there could be no misunderstanding. "I know somewhere we can go," she continued. "I can explain everything."

  Tony just shook his head. The cop with the cuffs paused, then raised his gun again and took another step forward.

  Jeannie looked at Tony. Her eyes were wide, pleading, but otherwise she seemed calm.

  "Please, Tony.
Please
."

  "Enough already," the female detective snapped. "Let's go."

  "Fuck you." Tony's hands flew towards the cop with the cuffs. One hand grabbed the gun, the other the man's forearm. He flicked upwards, bending the gun barrel and snapping the man's hand almost off. The policeman screamed and hit the floor on one knee. As his helmeted head got close to Tony's right knee, Tony kicked outwards, sending the man careering full across the apartment to slam into the wall. The man slumped in the corner, and didn't move again.

  One down.

  The two less-protected detectives stepped backwards as one, towards the front room's large main window. Showing years of ingrained police training, they raised their pistols in unison, and after a perfunctory warning shout, began firing, not even pausing for surrender. At the same time, the cop in the doorway opened up, sending high caliber rounds two at a time, almost experimentally, perhaps realizing that Tony was no ordinary civilian but unsure how much punishment he could take. The one holding Jeannie spun her around and forced her to the floor on her front, shielding her with his own body.

  The bullets were hitting Tony, there was no doubt about it. In a few seconds his black T-shirt was torn and smoking. He took a moment to focus on the hot water tapping on his skin as the slugs were compressed to molten slag, and dripped off, burning away his thin clothing as they did so. The pistol rounds were surprisingly sharp, but felt small, like someone flicking his skin with a fingernail. The automatic weaponry packed more of a punch, each burst of paired bullets more like being hit by a fast-thrown tennis ball. He closed his eyes, counting the shots, nostrils flaring as the tangy smoke from the burning cloth of his top curled around his face.

  The detectives stopped shooting first. Sensible. The woman was on a radio. Standing ten feet away, Tony reached out with one arm, and the radio's plastic casing split in the detective's hand before the device was wrenched from her grip and tossed against the wall.

  They really weren't prepared for anything like this, Tony thought. As he accelerated towards the cop in the doorway at half the speed of sound, he considered how botched the raid had been. They clearly lacked any more operational intelligence than a basic connection between Jeannie, Blackbird, and − somehow − Tony's apartment. Blackbird was only moderately powered, and they'd come with powercuffs and small arms. That was it. Which meant they had no idea that the Cowl's girlfriend was also shacked up with the Justiciar. They had no clue who Tony was. The female detective had recognized him from the CCTV footage, but there had been something in her eyes, a sign of sudden recognition, of hesitation. They hadn't been expecting him.

  Tony brought his arms up and hit the policeman with his own body at Mach 0.7 before stopping almost instantly. There was a surprisingly loud and wet crunch as the man's chest imploded, his head thrown back and helmet knocked clean down the corridor with the force of the impact. Tony spun and flicked out three globes of blue plasma, the force of their impact sending the policeman's burning body after it.

  "Tony!" Jeannie's cry for help refocused him. He was beginning to enjoy himself, but he snapped out of it. Destruction was addictive, it seemed.

  Already the male detective was radioing for superpowered assistance − Tony swore as he realized he'd overlooked the second detective's radio − and there was a very real possibility that the officer pinning Jeannie to the floor would get nervous and not look when he started shooting.

  Tony took three steps forward, his bare feet sticking slightly to the melted carpet which had been seared an inch into the floor by his burst of superspeed. The officer was lying directly on top of Jeannie. Without a second thought he reached down, grabbed the man by a booted ankle and, swinging him directly upwards, embedded him in the ceiling. He was still moving, so Tony pulled him back down, snapped his automatic weapon clean in half, and broke his neck in one clean sequence of moves. Dumping the body, he carefully helped Jeannie up, concentrating on winding his superstrength down so he didn't throw her across the room too.