Chapter 17

Blackout

“You want me to drive?” Annie asked suspiciously.

Alexander glared at her, incredulous that she’d chosen now to argue.

“Yes, Annie! Get over here and take the wheel!”

She narrowed her eyes. “But you hate my driving…”

“This is not the time!” he growled.

Lights and sirens screamed behind them. Half a dozen police hovercars pursued their stolen Lux Aero. They had taken too long to shake Iron Nadya. She was capable of leaping from rooftop to rooftop with bursts of raw strength, plummeting toward them like a missile every time they slowed.

With her edge in speed over a straight path, Alexander had been forced to turn down every other street, dodging her increasingly dangerous attempts to crush them into the road. Within minutes the police had caught up.

Annie clambered over him, letting him slip into the backseat.

Something crunched under his hands. He looked down to see the seat littered with crumbs and peanut shells.

“What? How did you make such a mess back here after using it once?” Alexander asked, exasperated.

“Dunno!” Annie replied cheerfully. She grabbed the wheel, sitting up straight so she could see over it while reaching the pedals. The car immediately began swerving through traffic under her chaotic touch.

Alexander ignored the motion, focusing instead on the police vehicles closing in behind them.

“Hey, uh, Alex…” Annie mumbled mid-turn. “My implant says I just leveled up my Density’s output, control… and some other stuff.”

“Hm? Explains how you sent that supe flying,” Alexander replied, distracted. “Mine did that earlier when I was dropping from the balconies.”

The car swerved as she glanced back at him. “You did what?”

“Had to get out somehow,” Alexander huffed. “Now focus. Head for the expressway tunnel.”

He reached out with his senses, tracing circuits and protocols inside each pursuing hovercar. Multitasking over this distance strained his mind, a trickle of blood running freely from his nose, but he pushed past it, sidestepping the countermeasures designed to block powers like his.

Initiate emergency engine shutdown. Override safety protocols.

The hovercars shuddered and dropped, metal screeching as they skidded across the road. Sparks flew as they spun out of control.

“Awesome!” Annie shouted. “Now you just need to do something about—”

She swerved violently. Alexander saw the road ripple as Iron Nadya smashed into it, missing them by meters and blasting asphalt into the air.

“—her,” Annie finished, eyes still on the road.

He’d been thinking about this ever since she started chasing them. Only one solution seemed possible.

“Annie, drive straight,” Alexander said firmly. She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “I’ll tell you when to swerve.”

He could see her disagreement, but she sped up hard into the straight. She was more focused now than he’d ever seen her..

Alexander pressed his face to the rear window, tracking the arc of the superhero overhead. Every attack she’d made so far was direct. She might be tough, but she wasn’t versatile. Bombardment was the only way she could keep pace with the hovercar.

He kept tugging at his weapons, aligning them with the plan in his head.

Iron Nadya fell toward them again. He swallowed hard, nerves spiking at the knowledge of what would happen if her aim landed true.

He waited. Timing would be everything.

“Now, Annie!”

She wrenched the steering wheel to the right. The luxury car groaned, but executed the maneuver precisely.

Iron Nadya struck the ground, knee and fist first, hand reaching for the vehicle. Fingertips scraped paint.

Then her head snapped toward a horn blaring—

A pursuing hovercar slammed into her, metal and carbon fiber crumpling as it carried her into a building. Dust, brick, and mortar exploded outward. He sent the second vehicle crashing into the building after her, just to be sure.

Annie turned down another street, heading straight for the tunnel.

Alexander’s last glimpse as they rounded the corner was of Iron Nadya, furious, bending and twisting steel as she stepped free of the wreckage.

As their hovercar shot into the expressway tunnel—cutting beneath the city’s central business district—Annie glanced sideways.

“Why here?” she asked. “They’ll have a blockade waiting at the other end.”

Alexander pulled himself back into the passenger seat. “I know. But a hovercopter was tailing us outside my range. The tunnel’s the only place to lose it.”

“Which means you’ve got a brilliant plan to get out of here, right?”

He wiped his bleeding nose with the back of his hand.

“Something like that. Pull into the emergency lane at the big bend coming up.”

He gave a serious look. “And no distracting me until we get there.”

To her credit, Annie only nodded and turned back to the road. She might not have known what he was up to, but she understood the stakes as well as he did.

Alexander leaned back, closed his eyes, and reached out.

The tunnel was alive with signals: hovercars, implants, cybernetics, overhead lights, cameras, sensors. His Technopathy stretched fifty meters with minimal ease by now, but walls reduced the range. This would be the first time since the prison cell that tried pushing beyond that limit.

Sixty meters. Seventy. Ninety. One hundred and twenty. Almost two hundred.

A buzzing vibration built inside his skull. Blood streamed from his nose again, dripping from his chin.

Focus.

He trimmed the sensations. Ignored implants and radios. Blocked out tablets and dozens of unfamiliar devices. Eliminated sensors and everything else until he was down to three types of electronic purpose.

Overhead lights. Cameras. Autopilot systems.

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Time was running out. Annie was already slowing into the bend, his reach now grasping for everything around the corner as well.

He gritted his teeth and lashed out at the remaining devices with every remaining bit of willpower.

Now or never. Help us disappear.

Without meaning to, he released the power with a command that shaped intent.

“BLACKOUT.”

Machines obeyed.

Overhead lights flickered and died. Cameras went dark. Autopilot systems seized, hazard lights blinking as every vehicle slowed to a stop.

Annie shouted something, but he couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears. She pulled them into the lane and braked just as his blackout rippled down the tunnel.

Emergency lights flickered on.

Annie scrambled from the driver’s side, rushed to the other door, and hauled Alexander from the passenger seat. She slung him over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Metal rippled down her body, plating her legs up past the knees.

Despite the urgency of the situation, she didn’t forget what was important: her katana.

“Alex, where’s the rest of your brilliant plan?” she demanded, spinning to scan both directions. Red lights revealed chaos in either direction: vehicles stopped for hundreds of meters.

“Door,” Alexander croaked. “Maintenance tunnels. They link to the hyperloop station above.”

Annie was already running. She thought about kicking the door down, then realized that would defeat the purpose of the chaos Alex had unleashed. Instead, she slid to a stop and pressed a hand to the lock. Metal seeped into the mechanism, shifting pins until it clicked open.

She carried him inside and relocked it the same way.

The next twenty minutes blurred for Alexander, broken only by the ache of Annie’s shoulder digging into his ribs as she cornered or climbed stairs.

By the time they reached the hyperloop platform, and she had helped wipe the blood from his face, he was steady enough to walk again.

As they waited for the train, Alexander turned to Annie with an important question. Her clean cowboy hat was perched on her head, katana strapped to her back. But something was missing.

“What happened to the go bags you were buying?”

She froze.

“Annie?” Alexander prompted.

“Uh…” She scratched her cheek. “I might have left them in the trunk of the car.”

He couldn’t even blame her. He hadn’t thought about them either until now.

“So, that was pretty cool… what you did back there,” she said quickly, changing the subject. “One moment you’re slumped with blood all over your face, then your eyes snap open, sparking electricity, and you’re like—”

Dropping her voice in a poor impression of him: “Blackout.”

He considered it. “Yeah. No idea where that came from. It just slipped out. But… I think naming it helped. Almost like it made it more real.”

“Ooh! Check your implant. I bet it gave you cool points.”

Alexander frowned, not remembering any notifications. He pulled up the interface.

[ Veritus Praxis Neuroadaptive Noetic Implant: Series 1 – Ascensus ]

Welcome back, Alexander.

Notifications have been withheld to avoid distraction during open hostilities.

Would you like to receive status update notifications now?

> Yes.

Confirmed. Increases have been combined where applicable.

Agility + 2%

Willpower + 1%

Technopathy — Efficiency + 1%, Control + 3%, Output + 5%, Adaptation + 2%

Electrokinesis — Efficiency + 1%, Control + 1%, Adaptation + 3%

Congratulations, Alexander. Continue your Dream.

You have created your first named technique, merging aspects of Technopathy and Electrokinesis.

Named techniques may be declared aloud to amplify their effect, extending beyond base capabilities. Such declarations require Intent to Declare. Without intent, the technique will function at its standard level.

Blackout

Reach into all Machines of your choice within range. Deactivate all or selected functions. Because of the nature of your Technopathy, you bypass all mundane defenses. Electrokinesis allows the deactivation to pulse outward, potentially reaching targets beyond your initial range.

Ineffective against Ensouled Machines unless your Will overcomes that of the owner.

They traded notifications silently, not needing to say a word.

According to Annie, most of her gains came from the single hit she landed on Iron Nadya, with a smaller increase in MetaMetal’s control from picking the lock.

Processing Speed + 1%

Perception + 1%

MetaMetal Adaptation — Control + 1%, Output + 2%

Density Flux Control — Efficiency + 1%, Control + 1%, Output + 1%, Adaptation + 1%

“Every increase came in combat or under stress,” Alexander muttered. “It’s almost like—”

“Exp!” Annie shouted. “We’re totally leveling up.”

He wanted to argue, but couldn’t.

They sat in silence until the train approached.

“So, where we goin’?” Annie asked.

He frowned. Amidst the chaos, he’d nearly forgotten the new weight pressing on him. He knew what needed to be done but hesitated to say it. He didn’t know how Annie would react.

Annie waited.

“Frank was taken into custody because of us,” Alexander said.

She gasped.

“I need to—”

Annie jumped to her feet, hands on her hips. “We’re going to rescue him!”

He stared at her, dumbfounded at how quickly she decided. But also proud. She didn’t wait to be asked. She acted.

You can’t buy that kind of loyalty.

Smiling, he nodded. “Yeah. We’re going to rescue him.”

Talia was a product of discipline and patience.

Well, that, and a verbally abusive mother. One who first demanded she become a doctor, pushing her to graduate medical school at sixteen. Six years later she completed her neurosurgery residency.

Superpowers had been the obsession of the time, and her mother had jumped on it. Why you no superhero yet? Doctor old news! What I tell my friends, ah?

Money was never a concern. And Talia was curious, too, which was an unusual emotion for her. Most feelings had long since been buried in the pursuit of excellence and recognition from a mother who was never satisfied.

She signed up for the injection. And she’d been one of the lucky ones, receiving two completely unique yet harmonic powers.

She’d been equally unlucky, though, as neither of them were suitable for combat. Her dream of becoming a hero died before it began.

She returned to neurosurgery at one of the best hospitals in the world. Her powers made her a prodigy. For a while, it was enough. Even her mother’s nagging every birthday and holiday call began to weigh less.

Until the attack.

A small-time villain had taken a hostage in the emergency room over some minor slight. The hero that responded had reaped the lives of hundreds when he lost control of his flames, which burned through concrete and steel until they hit a gas pipe.

The court had ruled it an accident. Survivors and families were given a paltry sum of credits and an apology, written by the hero’s manager.

Talia discovered her capacity for rage was bottomless. She stalked the hero and his friends for months, studying their habits, their secrets. What began as revenge on one turned into many. Before long she was a vigilante with a rising bounty.

When AEGIS and STEPS captured her, someone in power had seen value in her abilities and leashed her. She hated it. But she hated the idea of a life in prison more. This cover up was exactly the sort of thing she despised, and she hadn’t yet decided which outcome she was hoping for. On the one hand, Santiago Systems might have had valid reason to redact a freshly awakened superhuman… on the other hand, what gave them the right to destroy the lives of people that had done no wrong?

And if they’d done it to one, who knew how many others were sitting in cells for the grand crime of simply existing?

So she waited, perched across the street from a dive bar called The Hollowed Die. Or maybe The Hallowed Die. The sign was too filthy to tell. She sat on the roof of a shuttered veterinary clinic, a black raincoat pulled over her head to ward against the drizzle. Rows of hoverbikes lined the bar’s exterior, their riders occasionally visible through dirty, backlit windows.

The bar was owned by Augustus Greaves. According to her research, Augustus and Frank Vitale went way back, once serving together in the elite Space Force Orbital Recon Ranger Division. All records of their unit were blacked out. She’d received two warnings to keep her nose clean when she tried digging.

That wasn’t important though. What mattered was Frank’s purchase a week before his arrest: three cutting-edge implants from a boutique firm that operated out of the European District. Augustus had brokered the deal. She had found one implant, burned and useless. That left two unaccounted for.

Most likely in the hands, or heads rather, of the two fugitives.

Given Alexander’s lack of social ties, Augustus was the only person he might reasonably turn to. And she had an inkling that he wasn’t the sort of person to flee while Frank did time for him.

She had turned up one other connection: Julia Delvane. But with her family’s reputation, and the woman’s own position, there was no chance Alexander would be stupid enough to approach her.

Which left Augustus Greaves, owner of The Hollowed Die. She had a feeling that he’d soon be receiving a visit from one, perhaps even two, fugitives.

Talia would be right here waiting when he did. And finally have her answers.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep