Chapter Eleven
To keep myself amused, and above all else, distracted, I practiced my flying abilities. My sudden burst of speed during the fight with Corruptor, I reasoned, wasn't going to be a fluke, spurred on by adrenaline. However, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get my speed up past my normal snail-pace. It didn't help matters that I wasn't really thinking about my flying skills, or lack thereof.
I was worried about Emily.
Okay, so she may be able to take care of herself. And, okay, she may be a member of the Brotherhood, which probably allowed her to carry a Fire Sword. And, yes, she wore a gun under her suit, and sure, she had toned up and worked out a lot since she had left me. How much of that mattered, though, with a gun to her head?
'Absolutely none', I said to myself, and flipped in the air. 'Sure, Sammy might not be Corruptor, but he's been acting very strangely.' I paused my motion, and hovered upside down for a moment. 'But how would he have learned anything? Who else does he know in Paragon except me?'
I sighed, and righted myself.
Had I sent my girlfriend off to her death? Very likely.
Was she willing to go, and aware of the risks? Absolutely.
Did I have to like it? Certainly not.
Could I do anything about it?
My eyes drifted over to my power belt, sitting on the dresser. I could go back to the tailor and get a new costume, one that worked like a disguise. Pad out the stomach to give me a gut, make me look like an elderly man, just out for a stroll in the park…and then, if Emily were in danger, switch back to the Fire Guardian outfit and attack the attackers…even Sammy, if it came down to it.
I drifted slowly towards it, weighing up the pros and cons. Emily might never forgive me if I did. Then again, Emily might not survive to forgive me if I didn't. If it was a trap, and this offshoot group, whatever they called themselves, were expecting a superhero…then one lone woman armed with only a gun, and maybe a Fire Sword…was in danger.
'Oh, hell.' I frowned at my reflection, before grabbing the belt and putting it on. 'I'm a Hero, now. It's what we do.'
Throwing open the plate glass window, I jumped out and hit the belt, the costume's forcefields rising as rapidly as the ground below me. Just before my head was encased by my helmet, I pulled out of my dive, whipping dead leaves and strewn newspapers in my wake. The people walking on the ground all turned and stared for a second.
"Look! It's him! It's the Guardian!"
'This', I grinned to myself, 'Is something I could get used to very quickly.'
Atlas Park at noon. Deserted? Something was very wrong, here. Usually teeming with life, from newly arrived Superheroes, to normal citizens walking around, to the Hellion gang members looking to rob people of their money…there was nobody in sight. I glanced at City Hall from my vantage point atop a skyscraper, and was oddly disturbed by the sight. Nothing was wrong…the flag made from Statesmans' cape was still flying in the wind, flapping without a care. In the far off distance, there was a blimp floating around. Everything was serene, peaceful…dead.
Tapping a few keys on my wrist mounted pad, I turned my vision to infrared. Nothing. There was nobody in sight…wait.
'There.'
I zoomed in with my eyes to get a better look, and flicked my vision back to normal. It was Sammy, looking around, nervously.
'He should feel nervous.' I glared at him, unseen. 'The traitor.'
But where was Emily?
My questions were put out of mind when a large black car sped up the road, screeching to a halt in front of my former friend, and a door opened. I watched as Sammy peered inside, spoke to someone…how I wish I had super hearing…and got in.
As quickly as it arrived, the car drove off.
I snapped my head around left and right, and saw no trace of Emily. Fearing the worst, I jumped off the skyscraper, and flew off in pursuit, trailing a fair distance away so as not to be spotted.
From: Story Filed
Body:
Susan, whilst I can appreciate the 'human interest' aspect of this story, I must say, I wonder to your personal level of involvement. I realise that you were one of the orphans assisted by The Tucker Foundation, and so I must ask you if the backstory to Jason Tucker is entirely relevant. Everyone knows who he was.
Regards,
Thomas Newromain
Editor, Paragon City Times
I had followed the car for hours, to a warehouse on the outskirts of Talos Island, and waited, watching. The car had entered the warehouse via a loading bay door, and now, all was still. That is, if you don't count the armed guards performing patrols, the searchlights in seemingly random patterns, and the machine gun emplacements on the roof.
This wasn't going to be easy. But then, easy isn't the way of a Superhero. I tried to calculate the best way in…the best being the least risky. However, I just couldn't figure it out. With the December sun quickly going down (not that it was ever really up) and the guard's low visibility, I figured my best course of action was to blow the searchlights, then attack the guards from behind, whilst trying to figure out a blind spot for the machine gun emplacements. I would be swift, I would be silent, I would be a ninja…
'I'd be dead before I took out the second spotlight.' I mused. 'Oh, sod it.' I leaped down, aiming myself at the roof, Fire Sword igniting as I noticed the momentary shock in the faces of the guards, a split second before they opened fire.
From: Story Filed
Body:
Tom, whilst yes, I was left an orphan, that has no bearing on my story. The Fire Guardian was a real, accessible person. I know you must have seen the footage of the speech he gave at the Christmas Party before those troopers attacked, and he was nothing but nervous. The fact remains that, although he had superpowers, he was new to them, and he wasn't even considered a 'Protector Of The Innocents'. That's why the story seems so interesting. Please re-consider your position.
Regards,
Susan Daniels.
The guards were dead. The spotlights were destroyed. It was safe to enter. If only I could get up. I struggled to get to my feet, my head spinning so much I wished I could throw up. However, I knew any excretions would get caught in the forcefield of my costume.
'Oh, wait' I thought deliriously. 'I don't have a costume anymore'
It was true. Somehow, my belt had been damaged in the attack, along with the rest of me. My right eye wasn't working properly, and kept cutting out, and my torso was bleeding. I tried to focus my attention away from it, but the pools of dark, near black blood on the floor, from the dripping wounds on my chest were the only thing keeping me alert enough to remain conscious.
'I'm coming for you, Emily.' I said to myself. 'Even if I die trying'
Somehow, I knew that was a very real possibility.
The sound of marching feet made me look up, and before my brain could realise what was going on, I was inside the warehouse, surrounded by Corruptor's men. The dragged me forward, and dropped me unceremoniously at the foot of what seemed to be a throne room. There, sitting on the throne, directly in front of me, was Sammy, a large evil grin on his face.
I stared at him…at my best friend…my betrayer, and tried to stand. "You…you bastard. I'll kill you!"
A voice from behind me rang out. "That won't be necessary, Jay."
My left eye drifted down, and I saw what the voice meant. A large knife…identical to the one that killed Frank, and carried by members of The Brotherhood, impaled Sammy to the throne.
Sammy was dead. Corruptor was dead. But…who?
I forced myself to turn around. There, not three feet from me, was Corruptor.
I was wrong.
Part of me wanted to cry for Sammy, although I know he would have mocked me for it. I had dragged my best friend into this…
'No, mate'. That internal Sammy I had from time to time whispered in my ear. 'You didn't drag me into this, I went willingly, remember?'
I wished I could. However, events, times, people…they were all blurring into one. 'Just hang on!' That little Sammy inside my head urged me. 'Hang on, you little bitch.'
I glared up at Corruptor…the real one, armour and all, and spat a globule of blood at him. It spattered against his boot, and I felt a half-second of satisfaction, before that boot drove sharply towards me, kicking my unprotected ribs, and knocking what little air I had out of me. I collapsed on the floor, my face grinding against the metal walkway, and tried to keep Corruptor in focus, although he was fading in and out.
"Who…who are you?" I forced myself to say.
Corruptor tilted his head. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out by now."
He hit a blue emblem on his belt, and his armour started to melt away. 'Just like my costume!' I realised to myself.
I stared up at Corruptors head, watching as best I could as the helmet faded into nothingness.
Emily stared down at me, smirking, and I knew everything was over.
From: Story Filed
Body:
Susan. If you want the story printed, it will be. The dead best friend, the warehouse fire, all of it. Tell the world that Fire Guardian was a new hero to Paragon, but that Jason Tucker was a hero to everyone long before he put on a costume.
The fact remains that nobody cares about dead heroes.
Regards,
Thomas Newromain
Editor, Paragon City Times