Red Sky 3.2
"It only bought time," Faultline said. We were still at the laundromat. They debated on whether or not to load my damaged body into the bed of the pickup and drive off. Emma was frantic, but even though I looked like I was knocking on death's door Faultline and Shamrock kept their cool.
Emily held my hand but I couldn't feel her warmth.
"Dragon was right. She didn't have authority to issue the retreat. The PRT will scramble around a little bit and come back within the hour. By that time we'll be overrun."
"Everyone's getting to feed though," Emma said. She knelt down next to me. "I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner, master."
I coughed. It was the most I could muster while my vocal chords and throat repaired itself.
If the retreat was obeyed the downed heroes would be left behind. All my thralls will be able to find a victim to bite. I wasn't in a position to rescind the order.
Shamrock looked around. "How long will it take you to heal?"
Does she not realize I can't fucking speak?
"I-I don't know," Emma said softly. "Puncture wounds usually heal in fifteen minutes, but there's so many... and her wing is all messed up. Those take days to heal. I don't know."
"Tch," I coughed. "Track." I managed to spit out.
"What? What is it, master?"
"Tru—," I could barely spit. "—uck."
"Truck?" Emma turned around and looked at the pickup truck. "Do you want us to put you in the truck?"
I nodded. I wanted to get somewhere else as soon as possible, preferably somewhere hidden I could recover. Emma was right. There was no telling how long it would take for me to be able to walk.
No matter what the plan was or what we were going to do for the next hour, I couldn't count on participating. I had to be stashed away somewhere. That much I knew, but I couldn't give much more direction than that.
Emma picked up on what I wanted and had the others help me into the bed of the pickup. Shamrock drove with Faultline in the front. Both Emily and Emma rode in the bed with me, totting automatic rifles.
I layed against the cab and watched the streets go by as the truck sped up. The wreckage of the laundromat was soon out of sight.
Time's running out. There was no secondary plan or backup. We used every resource we could find to make so many paralytic bombs. There was nothing left to do except take this advantage and win with it. The game board was set and everyone made all their best moves.
Kings and Queens have been taken down. Dead pawns littered the streets. Only a few pieces remained. I had to win with those.
"Dragon's command is mostly being obeyed, I think." Emma said. "The only person who doesn't seem willing to retreat is Glory Girl. I'll send everyone over to her."
I couldn't respond but there wasn't much to say. One hero was nothing to worry about.
We bought an hour. If I'm lucky I'll be able to at least walk in that amount of time. As for Eidolon it's impossible to say. He could be back in full form within the hour.
"Someone put Taylor on," came Madison's voice from Emma's radio.
"She can't talk," Emma said.
"Then tell her to listen. It's great and all we got the heroes to run away but there's another concern. You said earlier that you can't master everybody. That leaves plenty of unconscious heroes and villains around who will rise in four hours seeking revenge. Also there's a time-stop bubble at the beach where a handful of villains and heroes will come back."
"Right, but that's not for a few hours." Emma said.
"It's a problem that's easily solvable now. We need to spend the next few hours taking those people prisoner. This retreat may only be temporary but there won't be a large response from the heroes. Their morale is too low."
I would have objected but Emma nodded and trusted Madison completely. Fuck. I can't let Madison take over, but I was completely helpless right now. The one thing I needed to do was issue orders. I trusted Emma, but Emma trusted Madison.
That wasn't something I could allow.
"The most likely response is a PRT one. Non-cape agents with foam guns and all that stuff. Those guys are a dime a dozen so they won't have a problem losing them. And they'll still cause us problems, especially if Calvert is leading them."
Too cynical, Madison. Too cynical.
"Master," Emma said. "Is this plan all right?"
It was good. That was the worst thing about Madison, and something I only realized recently.
Madison was a genius.
A sadistic, horrible genius, but a genius all the same. Her analysis was accurate and her plan would work. So I forced my body to grunt and nod and let Emma know to go ahead with it. I couldn't trust her, not even for a second. But I had to hope her goals aligned with mine.
Shamrock made a hard left turn and I slid into the side of the bed, Emma and Emily holding on to the side railing. Emma dropped her gun and it slid into my lap, but I couldn't use it.
"Company," Shamrock shouted as a PRT van shot past. There was a bull bar on its front and I guessed it tried to ram us. Its brakes squealed as it skidded to a stop and spun around to pursue us. We'd got a good lead on it but our vehicle was nothing but an old pickup nobody else wanted.
The PRT van had the advantage and quickly gained. Emily brought up her rifle and took cover behind the pickup's tail gate. She didn't fire immediately and Emma grabbed her gun and took a position alongside her.
"How are they conscious?" Emma asked.
She hadn't needed a gas mask like me, but Emily and the rest of Faultline's crew wore them to keep out the paralytic.
"If I had to guess," Emily said, "they're wearing masks too."
I'm surprised they all weren't to be honest. The local PRT should have been more prepared for me than they were. It's not like the paralytic was new. I've been using it for at least a month. Bakuda had even taken countermeasures for it, which now went unused.
Someone leaned out the window of the van and shot at us. The bullets ricocheted off the cab and the back of the truck as Emma and Emily ducked down. Emma also pulled me down but I was on my back already. I wasn't much of a target.
Emily returned fire when the bullets stopped but as far as I could tell nothing was progressing. Shamrock made a sharp turn to try to pull away from them, then another and another but the van kept pursuing.
The fact bullets were being exchanged made it pretty clear the situation was far beyond a typical parahuman conflict. Though that should have been apparent hours ago. I'd gone farther than villains are supposed to.
"Dammit," Emily cursed. "It's armored or something. I'm only wasting bullets."
"I have a magazine left," Emma said. "Probably not enough to stop these guys."
Emily rooted around in her bag and pulled out a grenade. "I have this," she said. "But it's really likely I'll miss."
I didn't recognize it as one of Bakuda's so it was probably a normal grenade. Emily held onto it and tried to wait for the opportune moment. Instead Shamrock made another wild turn and the truck's back tires started sliding. It wasn't a good drift. We lost a lot of speed and suddenly revealed the side of our car to the enemy.
They proceeded to shower it with bullets. The glass in the truck shattered as bullets smashed through it. I could hear tires squeal and white smoke rise as Shamrock hit the accelerator.
"I have an idea," Faultline shouted and opened the passenger-side door. "Spitfire and Emma, cover me. Shamrock, hug the right and then slightly swerve to the left. I want you to make a curve, do you get it?"
"Yes," she said and pulled the truck to the right. We almost rode up on the sidewalk.
On that cue, Emma and Emily took turns firing on the van. It was twenty meters behind us and closing fast. At the barrage it slowed but still kept pace.
Our truck then drifted to the left, Shamrock making a quick swerve and then a long arc to the right. I wasn't sure what was happening until halfway through the turn when we were in the middle of the road. Behind us a huge crack split open the pavement. Since Shamrock drove across the entire width of the road, that crack completely blocked the way.
The van's speed was too fast to stop in time. As soon as its front wheel lurched down into the maw Faultline opened the van's momentum turned it upside-down. The van skidded on its roof behind us, coming to a stop just as Shamrock made another right turn.
"You didn't tell me you could do that," Shamrock shouted. We were going over sixty and the wind forced them to speak loudly.
"I was only half sure it would work," she said.
Not only had Shamrock managed to evade the PRT, but she brought us to our destination. An abandoned apartment complex. There was a covered parking lot that obscured the vehicles inside, so it was a good place to stash the car. Shamrock pulled the truck horizontally across three parking spaces and turned it off.
We all took a few deep breaths.
I coughed. "G-Good work." It was hard to talk.
"Thank you," Emma said smiling. "Let's get you inside."
The apartments had been abandoned after Leviathan due to extreme water damage. It was one of many places that didn't recover and as such it didn't have electricity nor running water. The latter is why I and the other thralls liked it.
Emma and Emily laid me on a bed in one of the empty rooms while Faultline and Shamrock kept watch.
"Safe for the time being," Emily said. Despite that she didn't let go of her rifle.
I felt helpless. There was somewhere I could be and something I could do if my body hadn't been grated like cheese by Eidolon. Instead I was bedridden.
My self-healing had trouble knowing how to deal with such a severe amount of damage. The only thing it did right was stop me from feeling the pain. If I was in as much pain as I should be right now then I would be worse than useless. I would be a hindrance.
So at least I could bear it. And as long as it got repaired I could fight again. Just hurry up you stupid body.
Emily scooted closer. "I suppose it's only natural that the worst-case scenario's come to pass," she said. "I remember what it was you said when we were planning all this. 'If we really set off the gas, all bets are off.' And then Shamrock made some inane comment I don't remember."
I remembered it. She said she'd bet me her entire net worth it'd come to that. "That's my life," I said. The words were soft, but I could speak them. It would be false to say none of this was supposed to happen. But I played all my best cards when I would have preferred to save them. Shamrock probably hated me for that.
Emily laughed. "Maybe if we win today you'll finally catch a break."
"That would be nice," I said. But I doubted it would happen. If we won today someone would fight tomorrow. And the day after. That's how it is. No one ever stops. They keep fighting and fighting and fighting until they die.
"Shit," Emma cursed. She put her radio in her lap. "The PRT engaged Skiddy and some of his minions. Skiddy got foamed and the rest had to run away."
She turned to stare at me. "So get him back," I said. She didn't need me to tell her that, but she looked at me for direction.
"No, I mean, your leg..."
I looked at my left leg. It was the most damaged of all my limbs, only attached by some bone and a few muscle strands. When I usually healed the wound got smaller and smaller until it was gone completely. However, my leg was turning black.
My chest tightened and I gripped the sheets of the bed. "What's happening?" I asked. Not that anyone would know.
The black color grew until it covered my entire leg. But before the color crept up even further to my waist, the blackened leg fell apart. What used to be my leg turned to a black mush and puddled on the bed. All I could do was stare.
This is it. I'd pushed myself too far. My body couldn't keep up and now I am going to die. This was me dying. What was I thinking fighting Eidolon head on like that? I deserve this for being so stupid.
Bonesaw had said something along the lines of how my body protected me. But I shouldn't have counted on it to keep me protected no matter what. I had to meet it halfway and not do stupid things that could kill me.
I failed on that front and now I was dying. What else could it mean?
"Master, I'm very confused." Emma said. "That puddle, is it clumping up or something?"
The black puddle was indeed clumping up. But not into the shape of a leg. Instead it was clumping into little balls. At first I thought it was a trick of how liquid body parts would behave, but soon the entire puddle was twenty or thirty golfball-sized black orbs.
Something very strange was happening.
"A tank was just destroyed on the freeway between Fairview and Market," came a voice from Emma's radio. "By the PRT. Freeway's unusable."
I would have given that more thought if I wasn't focused on the bizarre nonsense that was happening to my leg. The balls were wobbling back and fourth now. Two rolled towards each other, melded together and then came apart again.
"Who'd we lose?" Emma asked into the radio, still completely focused on my leg.
"Bakuda's timestopped."
That was bad. Bakuda was our strongest asset. And now she was out of commission for half a day. Not to mention losing the tank. I may have to rethink the self-destruct time stops. While it did its job and made the PRT think twice about destroying them, if they'd decided the cost was worth it then there was no point.
Later. If I survive the next five minutes maybe I can think about that. The black balls that used to be my leg were still wobbling as if they were unsure about what to do next. A few more rolled around and smashed into each other, but they always broke up after.
Faultline burst into the room. "PRT's here," she said. "I don't know if we were followed or what, but they know we're in this apartment. Five vans parked outside. And two firetrucks."
I almost laughed at the firetrucks. Somebody over at the PRT knew my weakness. "I can't do anything," I said. "Can you hold them off?"
"Not for long. We had some ammo stored here but not a lot. Also it's the wrong type of bullet for the rifles so we're pistols only." Faultline shrugged. "I could cause some damage but it wouldn't stop them. Spitfire could help but she'd have to take off her mask and I don't know if it's sa—"
There was a smash from somewhere in the building. It was followed up by a loud hiss.
"Tear gas," Spitfire shouted. There was the pop of gunfire as the PRT engaged us.
I'm not sure what purpose the tear gas served. They should have seen the gas masks earlier, so all it did was cut visibility.
Faultline rushed out of my room to cause some havoc. The gunfire was accompanied by large cracks of concrete and earth being shattered under her feet.
Then the sound stopped. Emma held onto her radio with both hands and backed away from the door while I held my grip on my bed. The white tear gas leaked into the room but Emma and I were immune to it.
"Gun?" I asked.
Emma shook her head. "I gave it to Shamrock."
The person who came through the door to the apartment wasn't Shamrock returning the gun she borrowed. Nor was it Emily, Faultline or anyone else from the crew. It was a faceless soldier of the PRT in full garb.
They pointed their foam rifles at Emma and me and didn't hesitate to coat us with it. Emma tried to get in the way and protect me, but once she was taken down there wasn't much I could do except fall to the floor and try to crawl away. A pathetic act that quickly got me coated in foam.
"Wingspan, you are under arrest."
I didn't respond. I wouldn't have been able to break free of this foam even at my full strength, let alone right now while barely clinging onto life. There was nothing to do except resign myself to this fate of being foamed.
There was nothing else to do.
Minutes ticked by. The foam blocked my vision and I couldn't see what was happening, but I'm sure the PRT agents were guarding Emma and I. If Emma and I were down, Bakuda was time-stopped... who did that leave running the show? Squealer?
Ugh.
My body trembled. Being trapped in this foam was bad and I didn't even get to see what was up with those black balls. They've probably been thrown all over the place by now. I may as well write off my leg as gone.
I felt the foam being dissolved off my body until my hands were free. But before I could do anything with them they were shoved into a handcuff mechanism designed for brutes. I couldn't break out of it. They were going to do something with my legs too but upon realizing I only had one opted to leave it be. They also clipped something onto what remained of my wings.
More restraints were added around my waist and neck that I didn't understand the purpose of, but it would probably kill me if I tried to do anything. They finished off with a gag in my mouth.
Emma wasn't bound as severely as me, though she had many of the same capabilities. They probably only had one set of the major restraints. Emma didn't look able to break free though.
We were captured.
The foam dissolved and I could see those black balls lying over the floor, some smashed into puddles and others still wobbling. Useless. Whatever they were they were completely useless.
The PRT agents grabbed Emma. She was helpless to resist and carried out before the agents came back for me. Two agents grabbed me from either side and carried me away.
We were outside the door when it happened.
All those little black balls on the floor of the apartment sprouted wings. They sprouted wings, took to the air and swarmed around the room. The PRT agents dropped me from shock and went to draw their guns, but the swarm already rushed towards them.
No, not towards them, towards me. They flew towards where my leg used to be and smashed into the stump. In a second my leg was back and in perfect health. The PRT agents retreated and brought their foam guns back around to contain me, but I had a whole good leg.
I was still in the doorway, so I hooked my good leg around the door and used it to pull myself into the room. It bought me all of a second as the PRT agents repositioned themselves to shoot foam into the apartment. But in that second blackness extended all over my body. It spread from my good leg over my skin. It felt like I was being ripped apart.
The blackness burned my entire body.
The PRT agents fired their foam rifles at me again, the stream of liquid turning into foam as it came into contact with the air. That was the thing about those rifles. They were meant to be long range. A few meters had to be between them and me for the liquid to actually turn to foam.
Instead of the foam hitting me, I exploded.
Or at least that's what it felt like. My entire vision went dark. I could still feel myself, but I was out of control. My body was in a hundred places at once and none of them useful. I had no vision, no sense of hearing, no taste or smell. I could feel my body impacting things, but I didn't know what those things were.
I wanted the pain to stop. I really wanted it to stop.
The fucking PRT kept doing this. The heroes, the PRT, the villains, everybody. Everybody seemed wholly intent on causing me as much pain as possible. Even back at school Emma and the trio wanted to cause me pain.
I tried to pull it together. I didn't have control over anything. I wasn't even sure where my brain was or what allowed me to think. I was in pieces.
Together. I had to come together. Together.
Together.
It didn't feel like I had control, but the swarm got smaller. Closer together. The chaos more uniform and singular. I was in pieces, but the pieces moved as one. A single entity.
Vision was restored. I was outside in the hallway, PRT agents flanking me on either side. Before looking at them I took a deep breath and stared at my own body. I was complete again, exactly how I was an hour ago before Eidolon ripped me to shreds.
I didn't understand what happened but there was no time. A PRT agent stepped back and leveled his foam rifle at me. I could hear it hiss so I rushed forward. I darted right next to him and shoved him into the wall.
The rifle dropped from his hand as he smashed through the wall. I wasn't sure if the cracks were from the building being destroyed or from his bones, but there was another agent. I spun on my heel and dashed towards him next. His rifle didn't even raise before I punched him in his gas mask.
The mask buckled and crushed his face, which also buckled and was crushed into his skull. The PRT helmet flew off as the agent fell to the ground, blood pooling around.
I dashed down the hallway to try to find Faultline and the others. I hadn't meant to be so brutal but they weren't leaving me any choice. Those foam guns worked and would take me down if I let them hit me.
There were two PRT agents in the lobby of the apartment complex amidst piles of rubble and broken furniture. This was where the others made their stand. I could tell by the sea of spent bullets and weapons, plus the inordinate amount of bullet holes in all the walls.
The PRT agents weren't holding foam rifles. They were loitering as if waiting for something. They froze when they saw me, but I looked past them.
A body bag.
I tensed up. Was it one of theirs, or...?
One of the agents reached for his rifle and I closed the distance before he could get his hands around it. I smashed my shoulder into his chest and tore the rifle off his back. He was thrown across the room and out one of the already-broken windows.
The rifle wasn't a foam one, it was a real one. I spun it around at the remaining agent and pulled the trigger.
Click. God damn it.
The delay let the other officer pull out a pistol and fire. The bullets pierced through my skin, but there wasn't any pain. I could feel the impacts but that was it.
I rushed towards him as he unloaded his clip into me and reached out to grab him. He dodged, but I managed to snag his arm. Without knowing what else to do, I swung him around and tossed him. He hit a desk and tumbled into the wall screaming.
I should have paid more attention to him but instead I knelt down by the body bag and unzipped it. I held my breath, praying it wasn't—
—Emily.
Not her, I thought. My hands shook. Not her, anyone but her. She was the only one of us who was a good person.
Someone shouted outside. I forced myself to drag my eyes away from Emily's body. Out the window I could see several PRT vans parked outside, ten agents getting into there were two fire hoses aimed towards the apartment building.
I let Emily die. I stared at her body. She's right there, unmoving. Protecting me. It should be the other way around.
The rev of a car engine echoed as one of the vans pulled away, its tires screeching. It was larger than the others with a very secure back. The only reason it would be fleeing was if... was if there were prisoners in it.
I dashed outside and unfolded my wings, taking to the air. Two streams of foam and a shower of bullets came my way, but I was already in the air as they smashed harmlessly into the side of the apartment building. The firetrucks hadn't sprayed their water.
Emily is dead.
The van screeched away but I caught up to it as it rounded a turn. I landed on the hood. The driver hit the brakes to throw me off so I extended my wings and used the air resistance to keep me on.
I then propelled myself forward, punching through the windshield and grabbing the driver's throat. He had armor on but there was space between his helmet and body armor that I could slip my hand in.
He struggled to get away but once my hand was around his throat I squeezed until I heard his neck snap. All life left his body and he fell limp against the steering wheel, the horn blaring.
There's no time.
They won't retreat. I can't retreat either. Emily's body was in the building and the rest of my crew was in this van. I can't retreat. I can't.
This time I can't just flee. I had run away from Eidolon and Dragon's machine. I tried to hide in the shadows and wait them out, but I couldn't do that anymore. Not here. Not now.
I swung around to the back of the van and ripped the doors off, making sure Faultline and the others really were inside. All three of them were: Faultline, Shamrock and Emma. Only Emma looked conscious but all three of them had restraints. So they weren't dead.
Gunfire spilled towards me and I could feel bullets pelt my back. I kicked the PRT van sideways to give my crew cover while I turned around. The bullets still did damage. I could see the holes. But the pain was gone.
It didn't hurt anymore.
The PRT had to leave, but the only way they would leave is if I made them. I ran towards them and roared. They fired the foam at me, but there were only two streams. At my full power, with working wings and my full speed, I could dodge them. Dash to the right, dash to the left, leap up and coast with my wings. Even when they tried to anticipate where I'd be next I could change direction quickly.
The foam gunners had to be taken out. I reached the first one and not knowing what else to do, grabbed him and tackled him to the ground. A strong urge pulsed through me to bite his neck, but I didn't have time for that.
The other foam gunner already turned his stream towards me, willing to hit his friend with it. So I grabbed the man's throat and took it with me as I dashed away from the foam. I'm not sure how much of the man's body came with me, but it wasn't all of it.
I let go of whatever was in my hand and turned towards the next agent. There was blood over my body, but I didn't feel it. I had to get them to leave.
I reached the agent before he could move and grabbed the gun out of his hands. I heard one of his arms snap as I wrenched it away and then smashed it into his face. The gun crumpled from the impact.
That's when the firetrucks finally started spraying water. As soon as it happened I dashed away, the crippling fear it brought worse than it had ever been before. I took cover behind the prison van, tripping over my own feet.
The streams stopped when I was out of sight, but I was still shaking. Fuck. My weakness was even worse now. I hadn't even gotten wet.
We had chosen this apartment complex because there wasn't any running water. Which meant the firetrucks weren't connected to a hydrant. All they had was the water in the actual trucks. I didn't know how much it was but there was no way it was all that much.
I grabbed a rifle from inside the prison van. I'll do this the old fashioned way.
Once I could hold the rifle without shaking, I stood up and propped the rifle on top of the hood of the van. The agents near the firetrucks had to hold big hoses, which made them easy targets. After checking to make sure the rifle actually had bullets in it and the safety was off, I pressed the trigger as fast as I could.
I wasn't sure if I got any of the agents, but the hoses were torn and gushing water.
They wouldn't give up. The PRT agents didn't run away, they just drew their automatic rifles and pistols and whatever else they had and fired. The bullets ricocheted off the van.
"Stop fucking shooting at me," I yelled as I dashed out from the van and rushed towards them. I closed the distance in a second and killed an agent trying to aim a hose.
And then another one.
And another one.
And another one.
Why won't they just give up? How come no one runs away? There was only two left. They couldn't do anything. I didn't understand why they died by my hand.
They'll never leave.
That was the only conclusion. No one is going to leave me alone. Even when they should and it's in their own best interests, they will still come after me.
"I don't get it," I said to myself. The only voice left among a sea of carnage. Bodies and half-destroyed vehicles littered the road. Blood filled the cracks in the asphalt.
I walked towards the apartment. Towards Emily.
I heard the sound of one of the agent's radios."Come in unit two, status?"
The message repeated, the man on the other end sounding anxious. I grabbed the radio and pushed down the button, but I wasn't sure what to say.
For a few seconds I stared at it.
"They're dead," I said softly. "I'm done. I'm just done."
I wasn't sure if I would get a response, but after a few seconds the man spoke back. "Is that you, Wingspan? What do you mean?"
I threw the radio aside. It didn't matter. Only Emily mattered right now. She was laying there, dead. She was still there in the apartment resting snugly in the body bag. I've heard the phrase on television that sometimes people look like they're sleeping when they're dead.
It wasn't true. Something was clearly wrong. Emily was too still.
I knelt down next to her.
"Would you do it to save someone..." I asked myself.
My thralls are mostly themselves. Sure there was a different purpose forced on them: unconditional love for someone they may not even have liked before and a potpourri of physical side-effects. But it was better than dying, wasn't it?
We'd never discussed this. I don't know if Emily would have wanted me to bite her. If the only other option was death? But I just spoke with her minutes ago. There should still be enough time. There has to be.
Even if it's the wrong decision and she didn't want it I'd never know. I'd never know because from now on she would love me. So of course she would say it's what she wanted. It's impossible to know.
But she didn't deserve to die. Not like this.
I sunk my fangs into Emily's neck. To save someone, I would bite them. I lapped up her blood and drained her body. The infection would spread from me to her. This was the first time I'd bitten someone already dead. I didn't know if it would work.
But I had to try. When I was done I wiped my mouth and was attacked by guilt.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm so sorry."