The Suns of Liberty (Book 2): Revolution (14 page)

The staircase was silent. Debris
from the wood, the plaster, the wallpaper hung in the air like fog. “Be
careful,” Watson sighed and stepped forward.

Suddenly…

A glowing whip snaked down from
above with blinding speed, wrapped around an officer's neck, and pulled him off
his feet. He screamed all the way up. He rose four floors in seconds.

Then, he dropped.

Straight down the center. Arms,
head, and legs thudded the railing as he fell. Landed with a crunch
.
He
lay at the bottom in the eerie glow from the streetlights.

He didn’t move.

The officers opened fire again.
Lighting up the dark. Shooting blindly, terrified. They emptied their guns.
Rolling cartridges and debris clattered in the dark. Then a deafening silence.
They waited. No one moved. Ten seconds. Twenty. Half a minute.

Lithium stepped out
.

For a moment they looked completely confused. They
probably thought they’d been shooting at Lithium all along. Clay Arbor figured
they were all shitting their pants about now. So the big man finally spoke.
“Just turn around, boys. He's all mine.” Arbor had monitored Watson's precinct
for days. He had the intel on the Timbecks and knew Davey's condition. He'd
paid a Guardsman off to stake out the station house and had gotten the call the
moment Watson and his crew had left for the newspaper office. Sometimes he even
impressed himself.
Clay Arbor wasn't the top Special Forces commando for
nothing.

“Where the hell did you come
from?” Watson protested.

“Council wants him taken alive,”
Arbor shot back, letting them know he was aware of their purpose.

“Get out of the way, Lithium.
We'll shoot you if we have to.” Watson was trying to sound tough. Impressive
under the circumstances.

“Let me tell ya a story, boys.
Before you were sucking the placenta outta your mommas’ wombs I was killin'
women, children, and little puppies for my country. In hellholes that would
make you shit your pants. What makes you think I'd give a second thought to
killin' any o’ you?”

That made them take a step back.
For a moment they just stood there. Then Watson made a lunge for his ammo.

Arbor opened his palms, and an
intense light struck them all in the eyes. They collapsed. When they opened
their eyes again they were changed men. Dumb smiles spread across their numbed
faces. Happy zombies. Arbor bent down, gave Watson's face a pat.

“Don't worry, son, it's only
temporary.”

CHAPTER
24

C
lay Arbor
turned, jammed a button on his belt. The same light burst from his boots, and
he propelled up the stairs. They contained a lithium-powered rocket system.
They allowed him to fly short distances, like a jet pack. Or he could make long
leaps. This was a combination of the two.

Four floors up, Revolution
ascended the stairs three at a time. He was fast. But no match for Lithium's
jets. The big man tackled him in midflight from behind. A linebacker sacking a
quarterback. Arbor snatched him up, not skipping a beat in his flight. They
crashed through a window at the top of the stairs and spilled out onto the
roof.

They tumbled and skidded across
the slate. Punching, pulling, grabbing. Each snagged a handhold on the bulky
metal armor of the other. They both lunged for the throat. Squeezing reinforced
steel—a deadlock.

Lithium's armor was a different
design than Revolution's. It made him slightly stronger but less protected than
his rival. Despite Arbor’s more flexible armor, Revolution still retained a
slight edge in that category. Taken together, it made them perfectly matched
adversaries.

Lithium's muscle won out. He
pushed, and they stumbled for the wall. He lurched with power and slammed the
Revolution against it.

Or he tried to. Revolution was
more agile. Just before Arbor could make his move, he twisted the big man
around. Their momentum carried them. They crunched into the wall together.
Shards of concrete showered them. They crashed down onto the floor of the roof.

Revolution spun away. Leapt to his
feet, Arbor a step behind.

The big man fired his boosters and
rocketed into him.

Revolution ducked as Arbor swung
with his right. The big man grunted in anger as he missed. But his left
uppercut cracked across blue helmet. Revolution sprawled on the slate.

Arbor landed hard just in front of
him as Revolution again spun and found his feet. Dazed, his world spinning, he
shook it off. His eyes refocused. A throwing star slid into his hand. A
compartment on his armored sleeve slid shut. He slung the star at Arbor…

…who ducked it expertly just as it
started to glow. As the big man evaded the shuriken, the Dark Patriot made his
move.

Revolution leapt into the air with
augmented power and planted a cracking boot heel directly into Arbor’s chest.
He felt something give, move, tear. The big man crumpled and toppled off his
feet and rolled backwards.

In a second Arbor was back up—and
pissed off.

In fact, he'd had enough. No more
holding back. He aimed his hands and blasted the lobotomy beam, full power,
right into the Revolution's open eye shields. The light shown in his eyes. A
deer in headlights.

Arbor waited for him to fall.

Revolution just tapped his eye
slots. No effect.

Arbor growled.

Then he grinned.

What he did next took Revolution
completely by surprise.

He raised his arm, and a jet of
bright orange flame erupted from a steel turret just above his right wrist. The
power of the blast ripped Revolution off his feet and threw him across the
roof. The heat was suffocating. This was far from their first tussle. But it
was a weapon from Arbor he'd never seen before.    

Stunned from the heat, he picked
himself up, nunchaku in hand.Arbor fired again.

Revolution spiraled the nunchaku.
They glowed.

The flames shot across the roof. Revolution
blocked them with the glowing nunchaku. The blaze ricocheted straight up,
making a great L-shape of fire, and dissolved harmlessly into the air.

But then the nunchaku’s glow
faded. They were out of their charge. Revolution flung them at the big man, who
simply swatted them away.

“C'mon, damn it!” Arbor stampeded
across the opening. He lifted his arms.

Revolution could see turrets on
both wrists. Both aimed at him. They sparked orange inside. He prepared to take
the blast. This was going to hurt. Then, out of nowhere...

Thwap! Thwap!

Two darts sank into a soft spot in
Arbor's armor between his bicep and forearm. The big man looked confused. He
grimaced at the darts in his arm.

And then his heart beat.

Arbor sunk to his knees as Spider
Wasp zipped by him at high speed. Ward brought himself vertical, slowed the
thrust of the engines, and landed gently right next to Revolution. “Okay, so I
followed you. Just couldn't wait for our date.”

“I don't need a Robin,” was the
only reply.

Arbor was trying to rise. He
grimaced. Took a look at Spider. “In ten seconds this roof is gonna be crawling
with SWAT,” he grunted.

Ward swiveled like he'd heard the
voice of the devil. His eyes went wide when he saw Arbor trying to stand. His
mouth dropped open. No one had ever gotten up from even one dart, let alone
two.

Revolution nodded to Arbor.
Lithium was giving this Spider Wasp guy quarter. It was a classy move. He
turned to Spider Wasp.

“Get outta here. Go! Not your
fight.”  Pain from the flame blast clipped his words.

“All right.” Ward nodded. “But
this isn't over. You need my help. I
have
to talk to you.”

“Later,” Revolution groaned.
“Later.”

Ward blasted off but quickly
swerved behind a nearby chimney, landing quietly. He settled in to watch.

Back on the roof, Arbor was on his
feet. He yanked out the darts and seemed to shake off their effect. From fifty
yards away, Ward's mouth fell open again. “No way!”
Oh shit!
Had he said
that out loud?
 

Doors on the roof behind Arbor flung
open. A dozen SWAT members filed out, bazookas on their shoulders. Revolution's
eyes went wide. This was a serious attempt to capture him. He was impressed.

Painkillers were pumping through
his bloodstream. A few more seconds and he would feel better than new. The
long-term effects of these concentrated, accelerated drugs had yet to be
tested. But he was not worried. For him, there would be no long term.

But he did have a problem in the
short term. He was surrounded.

Arbor shot him a grin. “No way out
of this, friend. The man who faces down armies. It was myth that had to die
sooner or later. You had a good run, but now it's over.”

The SWAT team closed in on him.
Hunkered, staying low, weapons aimed, creeping forward. He had nowhere to go.
Ten feet from him. Five feet. Four. He steadied his stance, drew up his arms,
prepared his defense. And then…

A windstorm hit.

A news helicopter rose behind
Revolution with a mighty gust. A small tornado engulfed the crowded roof. The
area was flooded in light. The SWAT boys all shielded their eyes, tried to keep
their bazookas steady. The chopper hovered above; a guy leaned out taking
video.

From somewhere along the
Revolution’s armored wrist, a high-powered intelli-hook, or
i-hook
,
zoomed out trailing an impossibly long cord. I-hooks weren’t really hooks at
all, but steel cables that could morph to nearly any form needed and used
magnetized microfibers that allowed them to cling to nearly any surface. The
“intelli-” part referred to the AI that was programmed into the hooks that
allowed them to scan and adjust to different surfaces as needed.

Ward watched with stunned
amazement as the i-hook lanced into the night sky. It wrapped around the
copter's landing skids, locked on, and right on cue, the chopper took off, hoisting
Revolution up and away.

Several officers opened up on him
with handgun fire but Arbor waved them off.

“Cease fire! For chrissakes, you
wanna bring down a
Media Corp
chopper?”

The officers swallowed hard and reholstered
their weapons. The Media Corp logo was emblazoned along the side of the
chopper. Big as day. In the chaos they had failed to notice. No one wanted to
have to explain to the Chairman of the Freedom Council itself why they had shot
down one of his choppers.    

Ward looked on in awe from behind the chimney. It
had happened again. Just in the nick of time the Revolution had found a way out
of what should have been an impossible situation. He wasn't just good.

“That's one lucky son of a bitch!”
Ward said to himself.

Arbor turned to pursue. The chopper was pulling
away fast. Arbor reasoned its pilot had figured out he had nearly bought the
farm and was getting the hell out of there. “Track that copter!” Arbor yelled
back to the men behind him.

“Yes, sir,” the SWAT leader
replied. But Clay Arbor didn’t hear him. He was already airborne. Arbor's boot
rockets blasted him into the sky as he leapt after Revolution. But his charge
was nearly used up. The big man reached outward. He could feel his jets giving
out. They sputtered and spit. But he was hurtling through the night’s dark void
toward the chopper. Blasts from the tail rudders whipped his face. Revolution's
cape was only a few feet away. Arbor stretched his iron-clad arms; his fingers
reached out. He felt the cape flutter against his glove—just missed. And then
he realized he had no idea how high up he was.

Or how far he would fall.

He looked down and saw a high roof
mercifully close. But then his breath caught in his throat. He shielded his face,
braced for impact.

Arbor crashed through a rooftop
greenhouse. Glass, dirt, and plant matter flew across the tar surface. The big
man tumbled and slid, rumbling to a stop with the debris all around him. He
looked ahead, pain pulsing from his chest. In the distance, he could see
Revolution drop and roll onto a high-rise and disappear into the shadows. The
copter arced away out of sight. The big man wiped dirt and plant matter off his
face; his voice was just a grunt: “Jesus!”

CHAPTER
25

S
ix
nights later, the man now known as Spider Wasp leaned against a different
chimney, on a different street, overlooking a different alleyway. It was the
choice of the Revolution, and this was date night. Ward had actually had two
dates that night. One with a sexy blonde—which had gone very well; the other
with a sexy...
tank?

He spent a few minutes considering
whether Revolution's armor could be classified as vehicle, body armor, or
something else. Then he realized that it was now a full thirty minutes past the
time Revolution had given him to meet.

Ward sighed. “Okay, we make a
date, I get all cleaned up, and where are you? Out with other girls?” Digging
deep, he tried his best Antonio Banderas, which was not very good: “Damn you,
Revolution!”

Something cracked behind him.

“Not the first time someone's said
that.”

He spun. Revolution was right
there. Two feet away.

“Good God!  You're spooky,
you know that?”

“Thank you for the other
night.” 

“You were lucky. Again. You know,
I won’t always be there to bail ya out, big guy.”

The joke fell flat. Revolution
just stared at him for several seconds then shrugged. “I don't need a partner,”
Revolution said, anticipating his pitch. “You fight criminals. I fight crime.
And that starts at the top. With the Freedom Council.”

“We both know things are getting
out of control. Even you couldn't stop State Street. You need help.”