Chapter 32

Curtain Close

Glass crunched beneath Alexander’s boots as he approached the florist. The building had caught fire before the armored hero crashed through the window. Black smoke billowed from within.

He glanced toward the base of the stairs leading up to the museum, gauging the battlefield.

Everything had been going well before the heroes arrived. Damn them.

Reaching for his belt, he released the mini-drones, scattering them across the battlefield to record. They’d review the footage later, learn from their mistakes and refine their strategies. One drone, however, received a different set of orders. Its mission had little chance of success, but if successful the payoff would be worth it.

At the florist’s ruined display, he waved aside smoke and ash. His mask filtered it, but he held his breath almost instinctively as he peered into the haze. A groan of metal preceded movement as the armored suit lurched from the dark, fist drawn back to strike.

Alexander raised a hand and reached into its systems again. This time, something pushed back. Not the usual hardened implants or anti-technopath firewalls. Something else.

Someone else. The will of the suit’s pilot.

That’s new. Another technopath, but… different.

The suit slowed mid-stride, shuddering against his control. Holding it in place took most of his focus. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the first rider claw free of the burning wreck of a hovercar. He was on fire, but alive. The biker roared and charged.

Alexander wasn’t worried. He’d already determined the man was cybernetically enhanced and no stronger than the bounty hunters he’d fought in the sewers. He reached out again, grasped for the augments, and froze their servos with a thought. The biker locked up, halting mid-run. He looked absurd in his stillness.

Alexander turned back to the hero, still pressing her commands against his. The armor inched forward despite his efforts.

“We were fighting them,” he said flatly, nodding toward the museum. “You saw that. You know that. This could have ended with your help.”

A modulated voice answered. “You’re all the same. It doesn’t matter who you were fighting. You’re all villains.”

Alexander exhaled sharply. “You self-righteous… They’re murdering people! All we’ve done is survive Flashpoint trying to kill us.”

The second rider staggered upright, ripping off a broken helmet. Another augment, and with the same reckless fury. He charged blindly.

Alexander glanced back, gauged the distance, and waited. When the biker was where he wanted—

“BLACKOUT,” he commanded, targeting both augments and the suit.

His will rippled outward. Regulators, couplers, capacitors burned out. Power systems tore themselves apart. The bikers dropped, cybernetics sparking and going limp. Alexander knew they wouldn’t walk again without specialized repairs or full replacements.

The armored suit slumped as power failed. Then plates hissed open. Limbs split apart; the helmet retracted. A petite woman emerged from the frame, tethered by wires and tubes to her support rig. She tore free and stumbled before spitting blood. A short blade slid into her hand as she glared at him.

Alexander met her eyes. “I’m going back to the fight that matters,” he said, turning to leave. “Unless you really intend to stop me.”

Her gaze flicked to her fallen allies. The blade lowered.

He didn’t look back.

Augustus offered a hand. “So, Annie, are you okay?”

“Yep. Just had my lungs punched in. No biggie.”

She hissed as he pulled her upright. Her jacket was scorched, but her stance was steady. Arms, shoulders, and everything above was entirely metal.

Together they turned toward the stairs.

Mercy.

Skeletons hauled her upright. Her limbs spasmed as her body reset itself in jerks and snaps. A forearm cracked back into place. A knee twisted, then snapped straight. Her collapsed skull popped outward with sickening pulses of bone, plates grinding outward as the head reshaped itself.

She screamed as consciousness returned.

“Holy fucking shit,” Annie muttered. “Is she some kind of immortal zombie?”

Around them, skeletons closed in. Those dragging victims were slipping away down side streets in the distance. Too many to save. Unless they stopped the source.

Several skeletons charged, while others reformed slowly. One twitched violently, then snapped its eyeless gaze toward them and lunged.

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Annie met it head-on. Metal flowed, arms morphing into bladed hooks. She caught its strike, knees buckling under the force.

“Go!” she shouted through clenched teeth.

Augustus didn’t hesitate. He sprinted past, wand flicking arcs of force into the mob. Spines shattered. Skeletons collapsed. But the way to Mercy remained blocked.

She crawled now, panic driving her half-ruined body up the stairs one hand at a time.

“Like hell,” Augustus growled.

He smashed through the press of skeletons, throwing them aside with bursts of wind and brute force. One tried to grapple him, but he seized its spine and whipped it into the crowd, clearing space. Step by step, he pushed toward her.

The enhanced skeleton twisted, tearing itself away from Annie with a furious lurch. Trying to reach Mercy.

Annie was faster. She kicked its knee out from behind. As it stumbled, she threw herself onto its back and rode it to the ground. Her arms melded together, forming one massive, dense hammer.

Then she brought the hammer down.

Once. A shoulder cracked. Twice. The skull caved in.

It went limp, then crumbled to dust.

She gasped for breath. At the top of the steps, the puppet-master villain stepped from behind a pillar. Strings uncoiled from his arm, stretching and deforming until they wrapped around Mercy’s limbs. She screamed in pain as he lifted her into the air, carrying her away from Augustus.

“No, you don’t,” he snarled.

Augustus jumped. Midair, he twisted and drove his wand down. A thunderous blast cracked the stairs and hurled skeletons aside. The force propelled him upward, chasing the Puppeteer and Mercy.

Talia’s breathing was shallow. She had traded dozens of blows with the teleporting hero. Each clash left her closer to breaking.

His strength and speed marked him Tier 2. She had known from the start. Without Cognitive Resonance, she would already be finished. But it let her see everything: twitches of muscle gave away micro-adjustments in stance, every adjustment in his gaze revealed intent before it became action. She was his equal in skill, though, and matched him move for move, redirecting what she couldn’t meet head-on.

Still, he was pushing her to the limit.

Movement flickered at the corner of her eye. Augustus shot upward in an uncontrolled arc, carried by a blast of force. The puppeteer fled with Mercy trailing like a bloody marionette. And Ripper watched from the plaza, eyes gleaming. She saw how he studied Augustus with anticipation. A predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Farther off, Iron Nadya and Pandora clashed, fists against detonations, shockwaves splitting the air. Pandora reeled, sweat dripping down her painted face.

Talia knew what she needed to do.

She let the staff-wielder land a brutal strike to her hip, pain driving her counter. Her katana snapped upward for his throat. He blinked, vanishing ten feet away.

So predictable.

Talia spun, dropping the blade as her hand swept low. She hooked the half-full duffle bag with her fingers and flung it underarm at the hero.

As it sailed through the air she dove for the edge of the roof and grabbed the rifle with its bipod still deployed. She rolled and came up braced on one knee awkwardly.

No time for perfect aim.

She fired at Ripper who was mid-swing. The bolt spun him sideways, sending the lethal blade of wind tearing through a column instead of Augustus.

Spinning back, she intercepted the staff aimed at her head with the rifle; but she’d learned her lesson after losing the shotgun. She twisted the weapon as she blocked, allowing the staff to slide off and strike the rooftop with a loud crack.

Talia pivoted from her crouch, kicking the man’s knee out with a second crack.

He staggered, blinking away again. But this time it was a mistake.

The rifle was still functional.

She sighted. Exhaled. And pulled the trigger.

Iron Nadya pressed forward, her knuckles split and raw. Pandora ducked behind a column, detonations bursting with every step. She was sweating hard now, but grinning.

“You know, Pandora,” Nadya said, “our last fight pushed my fifth stat to ascension. Endurance. If you hadn’t figured it out already.”

Pandora wheezed. “So glad to be of service, you bloody golem. But it’s time for the finale, don’t you think, Ripper?”

Ripper turned his gaze on Nadya. “Right you are, dear,” he snarled, pushing down pain. “As always.”

He swept his arms, sending thick blades of wind slicing toward them. Pandora bowed theatrically. Ripper’s wind blades passed overhead. Iron Nadya threw up her own arms to block… only for them to tear past, slicing through a pair of columns behind her.

“CURTAIN CLOSE,” Pandora whispered.

Explosions erupted everywhere she had passed; from every spot she’d stepped, to every column touched. The very air itself rippled with fire as her technique detonated.

The ground shook. Then the rest of the columns collapsed.

The ceiling crashed down, burying Nadya under a curtain of dust and stone.

Augustus weighed the odds.

While the ceiling collapsed in a wave toward him, and the columns ahead of him exploded, his eyes remained fixed ahead. Mercy, being carried away by the Puppeteer. Her allies, celebrating as they retreated.

Dozens of skeletons had already escaped, dragging victims with them. Civilians. Innocents. Children.

The remaining horde was behind him, engaging Alexander and Annie. Talia was still alone on the roof, holding off one of the heroes.

And yet, he ached to continue the hunt. One quick portal and he could exit from the air over Mercy, close enough to reduce her skull to ash in her defenseless state. He’d surely die when the other three turned on him, full of rage and hypocritical fury.

The warrior in him thought it a fair exchange. The life of one old, washed up soldier that had long since lost his cause, balanced against the chance to eliminate a horror, a monster that had already left hundreds of bodies in her wake.

A deeper part of himself whispered: not yet. A sacrifice might be required in the end, and he might not know any other way to finish what they’d started here… but Alexander would. The young man had shown himself to be decisive and willing to do whatever it took.

He reminds me of…

Augustus slid to a halt, spun in place and conjured a portal directly beneath his feet. He dropped through and landed next to Annie in the street.

Alexander turned to him. “Auggy. Portal us to Talia. I know how to find them, but we’re leaving before Iron Nadya digs herself out and takes her frustration out on us.”

Augustus nodded and spun up the next portal.

That’s right. The fight isn’t over yet.

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