Three weeks later
Saturday, February 4th, 2017
Training Facility Echo
Level 0 – Changing Rooms & Showers
It had been a good afternoon, sparring with her friends.
As usual, Megan pulled off her sweaty T-shirt, shorts, and underwear before stepping into the shower. The showers were already occupied by other girls, including Stephanie, Shannon, and Saoirse. Megan joined them, enjoying the hot water which soothed her aching limbs. Just as Megan was washing her hair, Shannon noticed something.
"Hey!" Shannon announced, "Little Megan's getting serious."
Megan was confused for a moment, before she saw where Shannon was looking. Quickly, Megan pulled her arms down to her sides, a look of embarrassment crossing her face. Shannon winced.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you, Megan – see?"
Shannon rasied her own left arm and Megan could see the outline of a small rod just beneath the skin. Megan frowned.
"A little thirteenth birthday gift from Urban Predator," Shannon explained. "We all got one when we turned thirteen – the girls, I mean."
Saoirse stepped over and she showed Megan her own arm.
"Cool!" Megan said without thinking.
"They wanted us to be able to fuck without getting pregnant," Shannon explained.
"Sorry, I didn't. . ." Megan began.
"We're fine with it," Shannon reassured the girl. "Besides, it just means Marc and I can fuck till the cows come home."
"Which the cows never seem to do," Saoirse mused with a raised eyebrow.
"My vagina gets lonely," Shannon grinned.
"Dirty bitches!" Stephanie growled.
"I'm certain you'll be doing the deed, one day, little Stephy," Saoirse teased.
Even Megan laughed at that one as Stephy swiftly stepped out of the shower.
Level 1 – Dining Room
Xiāngxìn and Kendra spent a lot of time together.
Ever since Kendra had come back on the scene and Xiāngxìn had appeared at the Safehouse, just two weeks previously, the pair had rarely been apart. For the first time in eighteen months, the two girls were back together as real friends and both as Trainee Operators. Kendra had a lot to learn, to catch up with her friend, but Xiāngxìn was very happy to spend the time bringing Kendra up to speed. Only, Xiāngxìn had a second pupil, Billy – Kendra had insisted on it.
Lin and Xiāngxìn had both received their ID cards, just that morning, as had Kendra and Billy. Xiāngxìn had the alter ago of Tao Wu while her sister, Lin, was Tao Tei. Both were named after two mythical Chinese 'evil-beings'. Kendra had been beside herself with happiness when she had been confirmed as a Trainee Operator. So many years had passed with her striving desperately to become a Predator, or at least something better than a Yellow. Mindy had agreed to allow Xiāngxìn to train both Kendra and Billy in mixed martial arts. Mindy had been amazed by the high skill level Xiāngxìn showed when sparring, even to the point that the little nine-year-old girl had swiftly taken both Stephanie and Abigail off their feet in a two-on-one fight. Mindy had enjoyed watching that fight as putting down the Dubious Duo was not an easy task, not least leaving both totally speechless – a near-miracle in itself.
Willow had finally come out of her shell, full-time, mainly due to the need to train and supervise her wayward younger sister. Willow could be seen most weekends, supervising the training for the younger Fusion members. Working with Willow, Rachel and Saoirse spent much of their own time ensuring that Panther Squad was progressing in their training, assisting where required. There were eleven members of Panther Squad, far outnumbering each of the other squads. Only four of those trainees were Predators, and they were mainly there to learn the ways of Fusion before being elevated to an operational squad. Mindy was keen to ultimately have four operational seven-person squads available for Fusion to muster.
From another table, Mindy studied the younger members of her team and she grinned as she saw how happy they all were. All had suffered unhappiness and distress of some kind in their young lives. They came from so many backgrounds, and not even the same culture, but they worked and played together like they had all been friends for a lifetime. Whomsoever coined the phrase that laughter was the best medicine, was absolutely right. Mindy loved to hear laughter and she loved to see people smiling. Mindy enjoyed the fact that it was thanks to her, in the main, that they were able to relax and be children, not having to worry about being hurt or abused. Even the older kids who were expected to behave in a more mature fashion enjoyed a good laugh. That included the likes of Lucy and Willow, who were seventeen and sixteen, respectively. They could often be found with Hailee and Kelly, nineteen and eighteen, laughing conspiratorially about something at some corner table, then grinning fiendishly as they teased the hell out of the likes of Megan, Shannon, or Stephanie. None of the teasing was unkind and the older girls knew how far to push it before their target became upset.
On the negative side, so many youngsters in close proximity tended to cause friction and a few arguments, not to mention an increased scope for plenty of practical jokes. On that subject, the Predators had to be strictly controlled as what they saw as a 'joke' was often (just about always, actually) very dangerous. Shannon had been given the once over by her father for detonating a flash-bang as part of a booby-trap for Jamie and Abigail. As a result, Jamie had received some nasty burns to his left wrist which had taken a week to heal. Stephanie had found herself grounded for a week after Dave had caught her preparing a flour-filled letter bomb intended for Saoirse. As for young Becky, she and the unfortunate Razor had been caught out when they had ventured into a part of Safehouse E which was forbidden, and both had emerged covered in furnace oil from a ruptured fuel tank. Both had required some major scrubbing to remove the thick, tar-like substance.
Ultimately, Becky had endured a major tongue-lashing from Chloe, not to mention a one-month grounding with hard labour.
That night
Southwest Chicago
The Flea Market on South Ashland Avenue was enormous.
It was also a great place for dubious activities after hours. Naturally, Fusion found the site to be a very desirable place to kick ass! That night, Piranha and Ember were out together. At South Wolcott Avenue, they turned left off West 43rd Street and entered the Flea Market from the back entrance. They moved slowly, without lights, relying on the low-light cameras mounted on their motorcycles which then fed what they saw directly into the heads-up-display in their helmets. Piranha was worried – it was too quiet . . . way to quiet. There was no movement, no activity, nothing. The place was covered in a thick blanket of fluffy white snow with more falling steadily.
"This isn't right," Ember commented as she slowed her KTM 690 Duke R to a halt and looked around.
"Stay sharp, Ember," Piranha said as she dismounted from her Yamaha Tracer 900.
As the two vigilantes moved through the semi-darkness imposed by the ancient pole-based lighting which did not adequately light the facility at night – hence it was very rarely used after dark. That was also what made it a magnet for the common criminal. To their right, they had a load of containers and their associated handling equipment including trailers. As they approached a second entrance, the Predator-trained vigilantes paused and with Ember covering Piranha, the older girl moved forwards, checking that the area was clear . . . only it was not as clear as expected – there were tyre tracks in the snow which were being filled by the snow. As they cautiously followed the tracks, they found a Chicago Police Department cruiser . . . and it was riddled with bullets, the jagged holes extending from hood to trunk. Ember raced to check on the two officers inside – they were both dead, their necks ripped apart by a blade.
"What are these?" Ember asked as she checked out spray-painted markings on the hood of the car after sweeping off some of the gathering snow.
Piranha froze as she recognised the markings and she swiftly drew both of her pistols, extending both of her arms out to forty-five degrees on each side and circling around, scanning in all directions. Ember did the same, unsure of what had spooked Piranha.
"Hit Girl, Piranha. Lock everyone and everything down, right the fuck now!"
..._...
Hit Girl did just that.
"Lock everything down!" she ordered as she rode through lower Chicago towards Piranha and Ember.
As was current standard operating procedure for Fusion, no one went out alone, except for the senior members – Hit Girl, Kick-Ass, Shadow, and Jackal – who would always be monitored should they get into trouble. Battle Guy and Hal had designed a grid system which allowed vigilantes to be supported by other teams close by but keeping to their own grid square to avoid any unexpected meetings or blue-on-blue encounters. As soon as the alarm was raised, Hit Girl, who was out with Shadow, accelerated for her team members who were possibly standing into danger. From the south, Kick-Ass and Jackal moved in with Wildcat, Trojan, and Hellcat on their left flank. Other teams at Safehouse F, just two miles distant, were put on standby to deploy at a moment's notice.
As Hit Girl entered the Flea Market, she felt exposed; the place stank of a trap. She immediately pulled up her Ducati Multistrada motorcycle and dismounted, drawing the two halves of her bō-staff and joining them together to form her trademark weapon. She could see the CPD cruiser and her two vigilantes fifty yards distant, but she did not approach.
"Speak!" she ordered.
"Terra and Nova," Piranha announced. "A pair of fucked up mercenaries. I've heard of them and their work, but never met them. Little is known, except that they were both trained by some of the best. They are fucking psychos, and apparently anything goes – they don't give a shit about collateral damage. They make me and Stormy, even good old Hit Girl, appear sane and normal."
"Less of the old," Hit Girl growled.
"I concur," Battle Guy chipped in over the comms. "The images sent by Ember match intel we have from Los Angeles. The intel was flawed in that we believed the pair to be on the west coast, but it looks like they are here."
Hit Girl's earpiece clicked, and she heard the voice of Kick-Ass.
"Approaching from the north."
Hit Girl turned, pulling off her helmet, and she watched as Shadow sat astride her Suzuki V-Strom 1000 ABS, keeping a wary eye open. Then, from beyond Shadow a dull roar was heard, and the black shape of Critter could be seen edging slowly across the Flea Market, headlights doused and relying on night vision equipment to see. Mounted on the back of the large off-road vehicle, Jackal's Triumph Tiger 800 XCA stood ready. Hit Girl saw the danger and she braced for the attack, even as the lighting began to click off, section by section.
"It's a trap!" she growled over the radio.
..._...
As everything went black, Hit Girl felt right at home.
The darkness was your friend. Nobody moved as they listened for movement, for any kind of sound which would tell them where the enemy were. Vigilante and Predator alike, were trained for just such an occasion and they worked as one. The snow tended to accentuate any sound as well as dampen those same sounds. It was next to impossible to move in the snow without making a sound, but there was nothing, no sound at all. The parking lot was gigantic and empty – no one could hide in plain sight which just left the main building.
Shadow was also attempting to figure out what the hell was going on. She had removed her helmet, uncovering her ears. Her hands had sought out her bow and quiver of arrows. She did not like the tactical situation one bit and her mind screamed at her to run, but she was disciplined, and she was not about to leave her best friend without support. Then out of nowhere, she heard a humming sound, high-up, it sounded like. . .
"Zip-wires to the light poles!" Shadow called out over the comms as she nocked an arrow, brought the bow around towards the sound and loosed the deadly shaft.
She instantly nocked another arrow and loosed the shaft in the direction of the same sound. She heard a yell from her first arrow and then another as both arrows struck their targets and two bodies dropped to the snow. Swiftly, Shadow kept nocking and loosing arrows at the humming sounds but there were too may of them. There had to be a dozen or more heading towards the light pole a dozen yards from Shadow – many more than she could shoot down. Hit Girl cursed herself for missing it, but that was the benefit of hindsight and she mentally congratulated Shadow for figuring it out. Hit Girl ran for the nearest light pole and she began to attack the individuals descending towards her.
Beyond Shadow, Kick-Ass jumped out of CRITTER and he pulled out his twin Ko-Wakizashi swords. Jackal was feet behind, his Ninja-To in hand.
..._...
Wildcat, Trojan, and Hellcat appeared on the scene and instantly dove into the battle with blades drawn.
Wildcat wielded two blades: her Katana and matching Wakizashi. She had trained for months to be able to wield both blades in battle. Trojan was overseeing Wildcat and Hellcat, protecting their backs with his bō-staff. Hellcat was remarkably skilled with her own Wakizashi as she cut through the attackers.
The attackers were clad in pale grey body armour which protected the important parts of the human body while still allowing full movement. They were armed with a mix of melee weapons varying from medieval-style swords to those from the far east. All were armed with more modern firearms, mainly pistols, with the odd compact sub-machine gun in evidence.
As they fought, none of the three were aware that they were being watched.
..._...
High above the fight, two eighteen-year-olds monitored the attack unfolding in the snow below.
Both were clad in dark grey full-body armour which covered them from head to toe. One was male and the other female. The female carried a pair of FN Five-seveN Mk2 pistols mounted above the waist behind her back. A brace of four additional magazines featured in pairs, mounted on each upper thigh. Each calf bore an eight-inch tanto blade while a twenty-eight-inch-bladed Katana was mounted on her back tipped over to the left for drawing over the left shoulder. As for the male, he carried the same pistol in a holster on his right thigh with four extra magazines on his left thigh. His upper body armour was heavier than the female's and he bore two weapons on his back. The first was a vicious German war hammer with a flat slightly crenelated head as well as an opposing slightly curved spike. The second weapon was a German combat falchion sword. Together, the pair were very imposing with the male standing a good four inches taller than his female comrade-at-arms.
Neither was very impressed by their hired help. They had been promised hardened mercenaries who would be skilled at hand-to-hand combat. Though the Fusion vigilantes were outnumbered, they fought like they were not bothered by the number issue. In their research of Fusion, both had learnt that Fusion often fought against the odds – and won. Both had opted to monitor the fight from afar until they were certain of the outcome. While the outcome was not certain, the trap had been successful, to a point. That the vigilante known as Shadow had correctly figured out the assault and then taken down five of the mercenaries, killing two, was not a major issue, but annoying, nonetheless. It was also a problem that the top four members of Fusion, had turned up to backup the younger members. Kick-Ass was wading through, taking strikes, but returning the same and more – he was all but indestructible. Hit Girl moved like she was on a dance floor – not a single movement wasted – as she used her agility to combat her lack of brawn. Jackal was ruthless and he tended to support Shadow, guarding her back and hacking down anyone who dared to come close . . .interesting, they thought.
Each of the nine vigilantes who fought below were at the top of their game and highly skilled. It was obvious they trained hard and were trained by the best. The females all showed signs of having learnt from Hit Girl – certain movements were unmistakeable. Wildcat was one – she was acrobatic in her fighting style, often jumping to attack an aggressor from behind or to the side. Wildcat and Hellcat appeared to be the youngest fighting. They had both identified the senior members without problem, but the younger members were often unknowns. However, each tended to wear a unique combat suit with unique weapons. If you were close enough, you would be able to see the nametag identifying said vigilante, however, should you get that close, you were usually dead. The two who had been the first on the scene were Piranha and Ember – both renowned fighters, although Piranha was relatively knew to Fusion, but very highly skilled and ruthless. Together with Ember, the pair flowed as they fought, indicating that both had trained together for some time. It was highly probably that Ember had learnt her skillset from Piranha.
"It is time to enter the fray, Terra," the female said, her voice electronically distorted.
"After you, Nova," the male replied, in an identically distorted voice, as he waved his partner forward.
Together, they both dove for individual zip-wires.
..._...
"Incoming!" Jackal shouted as he caught sight of the two newcomers to the party.
Jackal and Kick-Ass ran to meet the newcomers. Kick-Ass registered a crack in the air, but he ignored the sound as the newcomer's appearance appeared to come unstuck. Jackal observed one of the newcomers suddenly twisting as they came down the zip-wire before jettisoning their harness early and Terra took Jackal in the chest with his boots, sending the Fusion vigilante flying backwards onto the snow-covered ground. The other newcomer actually fell a dozen feet to the snow-covered ground after their zip-wire came apart. Nova rolled onto the ground beside Jackal who was already regaining his feet. Nova faced off against Jackal, without a hint of apprehension, her Katana catching each strike from Jackal's Ninja-To. The girl was good, Jackal thought as he parried another blow from her Katana – strong too.
Terra had Kick-Ass' full attention as he swung in with his hammer and falchion, both colliding with Kick-Ass' Ko-Wakizashi blades. Kick-Ass was taking his time, studying the newcomer and how he fought. He was also studying his combat suit, armour, and weapons. Later on, he would brief Battle Guy so the uber geek could create a new profile within the Fusion computer system. Terra was strong, and he would bring the hammer down with devastating force. Kick-Ass had already clocked the vicious spike on the reverse of the head, but he wasn't overly amused by the seemingly blunt end, either. The presence of the hammer had Kick-Ass wishing he had his shield with him, instead, he had to rely on his blades and the heavy armour on his upper arms.
Hit Girl was also observing the newcomers, even as she fought a masked mercenary. The newcomers intrigued her, and she wanted to learn everything about the pair who were obviously highly skilled in strategy as well as in fighting. For them both to be able to stand up to Jackal and Kick-Ass was something – and it was worrying. Hit Girl did not like the combat hammer at all, knowing that just one strike could break bones, even if their armour prevented anything more serious. Somebody had put some thought into selecting a weapon which could cause a lot of damage to a human body without or without the protection of armour.
It was time to bring back the shields – they were cumbersome and heavy, but they could stop a strike from that damn hammer.
..._...
High above the action, Leon was preparing her perch.
Leon had a commanding view over the developing fight, and she was keen to assist where she could. As she lay down, she pulled a mottled grey hessian coat over herself to hide her position. Nothing would be visible, and the snow would settle on the hessian, producing a natural look to anybody with a set of binoculars. Her favourite weapon was her choice of long rifle that evening. The $38,000 British-made Accuracy International L115A3 sniper rifle was state of that art and deadly at over two kilometres. The .338-calibre Lapua Magnum round was deadly and could strike the target at extreme range with the same force as a .44-calibre round fired inside a room. It would most certainly take you off your feet, if it did not drive a massive hole straight through your body or just blast your head apart.
Leon scanned the fighters below as well as the surrounding buildings searching for anything which might cause problems for herself or Fusion. Her job was two-fold. She was to provide overwatch for her colleagues, taking out threats and providing targeted assistance, be it to take out an entrenched enemy, or to shred the engine block of a truck. The second part of her job was to provide a counter-sniper capability and protect her team from that psychologically damaging threat. Everyone was scared of snipers, scared of the unknown source of a bullet screaming in to take a life. Leon had just begun to scan the scene below when she had caught sight of two shapes sliding down zip-lines to the ground. There was just time to snap off a single shot before both shapes hit the ground fighting.
"Damn!" she growled as she worked the bolt to load the next round.
She was certain that she had caught one of the targets, but obviously not as both were fighting steadily. With consummate skill, Leon scanned the fight, searching for a suitable target. The fight was in full flow meaning that it was difficult to get a bead on a target without a friendly getting in the way. Her keen hearing caught a very dull crack and through her scope, she saw a pile of snow jump into the air, an inch or so from Wildcat's right foot. The crack had to have been a bullet, sub-sonic as the bullet struck around the same time as the sound. The snow and the steady breeze were deadening the sound too, preventing any echo which could indicate the direction from which the bullet had come. There was a sniper nearby and they were attempting to strike her friends.
There was little time to search out the opposing sniper, so to protect her friends, she would have to become the target.
..._...
Wildcat never noticed how close to losing her right foot she had come.
The young vigilante fighter was enjoying herself. While she enjoyed fighting criminal scum, she enjoyed taking down serious criminal scum all the more. Mercenaries who fought against Fusion were fair game, so Wildcat went to town on them, relishing the blood which arced from severed arteries to create intriguing patterns in the virgin snow. Her blood-spattered blades swept in planned arcs and often connected with flesh, then bone, and then flesh again as a limb suffered a traumatic amputation.
Being a caring vigilante, Wildcat would often follow up with a strike to the heart, thus putting the new amputee out of their misery.
..._...
Leon fired off two rounds in rapid succession, taking the head off one of the mercenaries and putting a hefty hole in the chest of the corpse as it fell.
The opposing sniper would not be able to miss the falling, headless, corpse and instantly begin looking for Leon instead of targeting Fusion on the ground. Leon had painted a virtual big arrow indicating the direction towards her perch as the body had fallen away from the bullet impact point. Then she jumped as something struck her sniper-perch and she saw a neat groove appear in the woodwork a foot to her left – she was being counter-sniped! Leon did not react; she stayed perfectly still. There was a slim chance she had been seen, but she did not think so. There was every chance, though, that the opposing sniper was simply searching potential perches and he might have caught the double muzzle flash.
Leon had an acute sense of her surroundings which had kept her alive for a long time. The groove beside her was level which meant that the bullet had to have come in at approximately the same height as her perch, reducing the potential options for the sniper's location in that part of town. The horizontal angle of the groove also told her from which direction the bullet had come. However, the sniper may have moved after the first shot . . . or not moved at all. With incredible patience, Leon scanned the buildings opposite her, starting in close and moving away. It took a few minutes, but then she caught a dull flash about fifteen-hundred yards distant. She reacted instantly, traversing her weapon slightly to adjust for the distance, the wind, the snow, and a myriad of other factors which could push the bullet off course as it headed for its target on a ballistic arc.
The sniper was barely visible and there was a spotter – a lethal combination. Leon did not have a spotter that night, so she had to rely on her own skills to find her targets as well as taking them out. The sniper was scanning just to the left of Leon and his rifle was moving in her direction – he obviously knew what he was doing, but he also had a second set of eyes looking while he worked out potential perches for a Fusion sniper.
It was a race to put a bullet on target.
Eight hundred yards to the east of the flea market, two prone forms lay atop of a tall building, providing support to their colleagues on the ground.
The knowledge that there was another sniper had come as a rude surprise but not totally unexpected as they had both been briefed that Fusion possessed a sniper team. It was also obvious that the brazen shots had been a distraction. However, there was no easy way to hide from a sniper, especially if you too were a sniper. Somehow, the other sniper knew that they were about, but not precisely where, or they would already be dead. Jadyn was spotting that night and she was searching for any sign of the opposing sniper, but she had not found a thing. As Robyn looked through the scope attached to her sniper rifle, slowly scanning, she caught sight of something – atop a building beyond the flea market.
"Sniper!" she called out. "Ten degrees left."
Jadyn turned her tripod-mounted scope and focused on the enemy sniper.
"I have the sniper – perfect hide," Jadyn commented.
"Taking the shot," Robyn said as she squeezed the trigger.
The hollow-point bullet cut through the air, covering the fifteen-hundred-yard distance in a little over four seconds.
The bullet flew straight and true – actually, that statement was not technically accurate as the bullet followed a ballistic or parabolic path which described a gentle curve through the air. As the bullet reached its target, the tip burrowed into the nasal bone, pushing on into the brain. The tip of the bullet mushroomed as it burrowed through the woman's brain-matter before blasting out of the rear of the skull through the parietal bone. The bullet was well on its way towards expending its energy on the rooftop as the destroyed head began to sag to the same rooftop.
"Sniper down!" Leon growled as she shifted targets.
South Packers Avenue
The young police officer had been sent to investigate reports of unusual noises at the commercial premises, but he had found nothing out of the ordinary.
"That's a wild goose chase, over here at South Packers – everything here's okay," he said into his radio. "There's nothing here, Sarge."
"Okay, call it a night and head back on patrol."
Just as the officer was starting the engine of his police cruiser, something thudded onto the hood before a head shattered the man's windshield. The shock scared the living daylights out of the officer, and he stomped on the gas pedal sending his vehicle flying backwards and into a parked truck. The body on his hood was bleeding profusely from a gaping wound in the chest. It took several minutes for the officer to focus his stunned mind and to call in the unexpected event. Finally, he climbed out of his wrecked vehicle and stared up at the building which towered above him.
Reluctantly, he figured that he would have to climb all the way to the roof.
The Flea Market
Ember was in her element.
The girl so enjoyed the adrenalin rush associated with fighting. Any opportunity she could find to be out on the streets, fighting to protect herself, her friends, and the city. It felt so good. Teaming up with Piranha was like being back with a friend, kind of. It was a seemingly tranquil scene, what with the snow flakes dropping all around them. However, the prone bodies and the blood scattered around the otherwise virgin snow tended to hint more towards something horrific and barbaric than tranquil. Ember could care less about the blood on her boots or the dead bodies. She had no problem with the blood dripping from the blades of her bō-staff as she searched for another target.
However, it seemed that vigilantes were now outnumbering the mercenaries, most of whom lay dead or injured in the snow.
..._...
As their support dwindled, it was swiftly becoming obvious to Terra and Nova that their initial foray into Chicago was not going too well.
However, they were not finished as they executed one of many prearranged plans to break from the fight and make their escape. It would not be easy, but they were both highly trained. Trained by the best to fight those who were perceived to be the best. They had endured four years of intensive training and they were not about to allow themselves to be killed before they could cause massive damage to Fusion. After a quick study of the battlefield, Terra and Nova moved away from their supporting forces, slowly so as not to indicate their actions to the ever-vigilant Fusion vigilantes. The loss of their sniper support had been unexpected at best and disastrous at worst. That had been their primary extraction plan, using the sniper to cover an escape. Instead, they would have to resort to different tactics. Together, at a prearranged signal, both armour-clad individuals pulled out a pair of cylindrical devices from their utility belts and pulled the pins before throwing the flashbang grenades in four different directions, but close to the Fusion vigilantes.
Those grenades were followed up by a pair of spherical high-explosive grenades.
..._...
"Grenades! Get down!"
The warning from Leon had every Fusion vigilante diving for the ground even as the flashbang grenades detonated all around them. Then came the dull crumps of the two high-explosive grenades as they detonated, sending a concussive shockwave out in all directions closely followed by devastating shrapnel travelling at astonishing speeds. There was a single scream followed by a yell of pain and then nothing.
Their masks protected them from the bright flash, their eyepieces instantly darkening as the electronic devices detected the devastatingly bright light. The crash of the explosions was partially blocked by their earpieces. The disorientating shockwave caused some light-headedness and Ember rose shakily to her knees, her head ringing. Beside her, Piranha was doing the same and surveying the scene around her. The mercenaries, along with their leaders were all gone.
"Sound off!" Hit Girl ordered as he rose to her feet, pistols out as she scanned the immediate area for threats.
"Kick-Ass!"
"Ember!"
"Piranha!"
"Hellcat!"
"Leon!"
"Trojan is up but Wildcat is down!"
"Jackal . . . is good."
"No, he bloody isn't! Shadow is in the green."
Hit Girl looked in the direction of Trojan, appalled to see him leaning over a prone form lying in the snow. To their right, Jackal could be seen clambering to his feet, before sagging to his knees and then slumping back to the snow-covered ground.
"I'm okay – my armour prevented any major injury," Jackal growled. "See to Wildcat."
Shadow was not happy, but Jackal was moving and talking while Wildcat was not.
Two hours later
Training Facility Echo
Level 1: Medical Centre
Megan felt like she was floating.
None of her senses were reporting anything useful. Where was she? She struggled to remember anything that might help her figure out where she was and what was going on. Then she heard a sound – a voice.
"Wake up, you lazy bitch!"
Then another voice.
"Stephanie, that's not nice."
"She's the one lying in bed."
"She was hurt.
"Big deal – been there."
Megan found her senses coming back online and she could feel herself lying on a soft mattress. She could feel cool air on her face. She could smell clinically-clean air and disinfectant. She could smell sweat. She could hear the sounds of industrial HVAC droning and she knew that she was in a Safehouse, deep underground. That meant that she was safe.
"What's all the fucking noise?" Megan demanded as she forced her eyes to open.
"Hello, Auntie Megan!"
Megan saw her niece's face appear in her field of vision.
"I'm in hell," Megan mused.
"Funny!" Stephanie responded. "She's fine – time to move on."
"What happened?" Megan asked.
"You got blown up by a grenade," Curtis told Megan. "Hurts doesn't it?"
"Just a bit," Megan responded as she began to remember events. "Am I all in one piece."
"You seem to be," Jen commented as she pushed through Stephanie, Curtis, and Mindy. "Curtis has checked out what he deems essential and he seems satisfied."
"You were thrown quite a distance by the shockwave," Mindy stated. "The snow cushioned your landing, but it knocked you out for a while."
"Not much to damage in that thick head of hers," Paige commented dryly from over by the door. "Marcus and Damon send their love."
"Thanks, Mom."
"You will spend the rest of the night in here," Jen said. "Curtis can stay with you, but no sex or other shenanigans."
"Yes, ma'am," Megan grinned.
"Right, now that the drama's over, I'm off to bed!" Stephanie said as she gave her aunt a pat on the head. "Sleep Tight, Megan."
"You too, Steph," Megan replied as she felt her eyes closing.
Several miles away
Terra was not pleased as he gingerly eased off the lower half of his combat suit.
Indeed, the adrenalin associated with battle had meant he had not realised that he had actually been wounded. He knew that something had struck him, but he had not expected a bullet to pierce his armour – it had to have been that goddamn sniper, he thought as he checked out the gouge in his lower leg.
"That looks sore," Nova commented as she emerged from her shower.
Terra looked up at the awesomely curved body of his partner, water dripping off the supple curves of her skin. It was their usual response to the adrenalin surge which was, even then, dissipating in their bodies. Terra pulled off the remainder of his clothing before tenderly teasing the ridged nipples pointing in his direction. Nova hugged her man, feeling something hard pressing into her stomach. They kissed passionately, allowing the night's tension to disappear as they focussed on each other and the love which existed between them. Each loved the other more than anything else on the planet and they would each die for the other should that event ever occur. They were as fanatical about their love as they were about taking down any threat to their existence. They did not see themselves as vigilantes. They were mercenaries, fighting on behalf of the highest bidder. They were also not afraid to cause collateral damage should that be the cost of accomplishing their mission. They would only get paid if they accomplished their mission.
That night's action would cause a reduction in their fee, but not by much. The mercenary pair always ensured that their deal would result in a partial payment should things go wrong, thus ensuring their continued ability to live in the lap of luxury. Though they were just eighteen, the couple were deeply in love with themselves, each other, and money. They intended to be millionaires by the time they turned twenty, and multi-millionaires by the time they turned twenty-five. The pair had their sights set on being able to retire by the time they were thirty and then, maybe, start a family. However, until then, they had work to do.
Terra swept up Nova into his arms and he carried her to the bed, dropping her down, and then lying down atop her.
Training Facility Echo
Level 2: Recreational & Briefing Space
Stephanie found Chloe with Joshua seated on a couch.
Beside them, Becky lay fast asleep, a blanket keeping her warm. Stephanie winced as she saw Joshua's bruises which existed on his face, torso and stomach.
"They look worse than they are," Joshua grinned when he saw Stephanie's expression.
"Is he okay?" Stephanie asked Chloe with genuine concern.
"Yes, his head is too thick to get damaged, but he's bruised to hell," Chloe explained.
"Megan's awake and seemingly normal," Stephanie commented.
"Normal?" Joshua enquired.
"Swearing, belligerent, bitchy."
"That sounds like a normal Megan," Chloe grinned.
"I don't like seeing my friends hurt," Stephanie complained. "Those grenades they threw were not very nice."
"I don't think Terra and Nova really care who they hurt, to be honest," Joshua commented.
"Those two are going to cause us a lot of problems," Chloe agreed. "Mindy wants us to be patrolling with shields."
"Those things are bulky and heavy," Stephanie pointed out.
"Yeah, they are, but that axe of Terra's was a nasty weapon," Chloe agreed.
"Ah, well," Stephanie breathed. "Such is the life of a vigilante."
"Such a veteran!" Chloe laughed.
"Hey, Shadow, I was a Predator three months before Dave and Mindy rescued your sorry backside from that alleyway. I was kicking arse while you were still figuring out which hole your tampon went in."
Chloe scowled, knowing it was true.
"You been reading my file?"
"Not officially," Stephanie grinned.
Sunday, February 5th
Training Facility Echo
Level 0 – Primary Training Area
The following morning saw a new face in the Safehouse.
At least, it was new to the regular members of Fusion. As Wildcat hobbled past with Trojan close behind, they noticed a young woman sparring with Piranha. There was something vaguely familiar about the young woman, but Wildcat was unable to place her. Hit Girl was leaning against the rail off to one side, watching, as Wildcat and Trojan sidled up either side of her.
"Who is she?" Wildcat asked.
"Tigress," Hit Girl stated without any further explanation.
"She's got some nice curves on her," Trojan commented.
"She has," Wildcat agreed. "Not that you're supposed to be looking at them."
"What do you urchin's want?" Hit Girl growled, secretly glad to see Megan back on her feet.
"Just wanted to know who the new girl was, is all," Wildcat explained.
"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," Hit Girl chuckled.
"You could try," Wildcat grinned back.
Wildcat lapsed into silence as she watched the sparring. While not up to Piranha's standard, the girl was skilled enough to give the veteran Predator a run for her money. Piranha was experienced at matching her skill level to the person she was fighting and therefore get the most out of a training session. Finally, the pair finished, and they walked over to grab a cold bottle of water from a cooler.
"Hi, Wildcat," the young woman said in greeting.
"You know who I am?"
"I've seen you about Megan Williams."
"Aaah!" Trojan exclaimed. "You left school, last summer."
"I know you from somewhere else, too," Megan said.
"You helped rescue me from some bastards during last year's Battle of Chicago."
"This is Arya Anderson, otherwise known as Tigress," Hit Girl offered.
"You fight well, Tigress," Piranha grinned.
"Dad taught me to fight when I was very young."
"So, how are you involved with Hit Girl?" Trojan asked.
"I could tell you," Tigress grinned. "But then I'd have to kill you."
Trojan looked over at Hit Girl who simply shrugged.
Early that afternoon
Glenview
Mindy went upstairs to check on the dubious duo.
As she climbed the stairs, Mindy could hear music pounding. The door to the British Sector was partially open. Inside, it was dark except for the desk light on Stephanie's desk which illuminated Stephanie and Abigail who were busy dancing to Bruce – and singing along:
You can't start a fire sitting 'round crying over a broken heart
This gun's for hire
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
You can't start a fire worrying about your little world falling apart
This gun's for hire
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Hey baby
Mindy applauded as the track ended and both girls jumped a mile. Both girls grinned foolishly as Stephanie put down the hairbrush she had been using as a microphone.
"Very tuneful, girls," Mindy grinned.
"We were bored," Abigail explained.
"It was so peaceful without gobshite. . ."
"Stephanie!"
"Well, he gets on my nerves," Stephanie grinned. "Yes, I love him, but he's still a gobshite."
"Well," Mindy chuckled. "I am free of you two gobshites for tonight – you both behave, please."
"Hey, it's us," Stephanie quipped.
"Not helping your case," Mindy grimaced as she headed back down the stairs.
The sound of pounding music returned, and Mindy grinned:
I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation
You're living in the past it's a new generation
A girl can do what she wants to do and that's
What I'm gonna do
An' I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation