In Hero Years... I'm Dead Delux Edition (45 page)

“People have lost sight of what is important, but they will regain their vision after tonight.”

“But they will never see what you want them to see, will they?” Sinisterion leaned back against a small robotic velociraptor. “They’ve forgotten that Capital City was built on what was once Haste Island, haven’t they? And they don’t know who Thomas Haste was, despite the monuments you’ve raised, the university chairs you’ve endowed, the charitable foundations you fund. It’s all been for naught.”

“They will remember. I will make them remember!”

“But not the
true
story. You’ll make them remember the myth.”

“That
is
the truth.” Nighthaunt stabbed a finger in my father’s direction. “It’s a pack of lies, what you know. Puma was wrong.”

“No, Puma was right. You and my son have more in common than we do.”

I shook my head. “Lies or truth, someone connect the dots.”

“Nicholas?”

“They’re your lies.”

“Lies, my friend, are complex, but the truth is simple.” My father straightened up, taking on the air of a mortician’s professional solemnity. “Thomas Haste, beloved industrialist, scion of Capital City, made a fortune in the war. Arnold Chase, a lowly accountant in Haste Incorporated, found evidence that Haste Arms Limited had gouged our government
and
had been trading with fascist forces during the war.”

Facts clicked in my brain. “They ran guns through Von Gurgen.”

“Very good, my son. There are even rumors that the President’s death was accelerated to prolong the war, enabling Haste to continue profiteering. Poor Arnold, who admired Thomas Haste no end, came to him with the evidence, convinced Thomas Haste had known nothing of the dealings. Haste thanked him and rewarded him by asking Chase and his family to enjoy dinner at a restaurant of his choosing that evening. Haste made all the arrangements. Including the hiring of an assassin to murder Arnold.”

“That is
not
true.”

“But it
is
, and you know it. Ben Frost, my uncle, murdered your parents in retaliation. Letting you watch, he figured, was fair since I’d watched my parents die.” My father’s eyes became dark slits. “But you didn’t know any of that, did you, until Puma sent you a note. What did he say?”

Nighthaunt stood, his cape shrouding him. “He commended your son to me, and asked me not to prejudge him, because he and I had come from the same situation.”

“Yes, your fathers were both arch criminals.”

“My father was
not
a criminal!” Nighthaunt’s shout reverberated and unseen bats flapped to more peaceful roosts. “This town would be nothing if not for my father. If would be nothing if not for my family. We created it, we built it. It is
our
city. It is
my
city. The old ways are gone. We will have peace and law and order because that is the way I
will
it to be!”

His hand came out from beneath his cape. He pointed a thick black cylinder at my father. Even as I drew and threw a shock rod, Nighthaunt hit a button. A black beam swept out, blasting my father from sight.

The shock rod flew true and knocked the cylinder from Nighthaunt’s hand.

His other hand whipped forward. Three of the older, lethal Spookstars spun at me. One hit directly over my insignia, but the ceramic trauma plate stopped it. The other two whirled off into the darkness.

I balled a fist. “Don’t imagine you’ll win.”

“Blood will out.” He leaped from the throne and attacked. He threw move after move at me.
Savate
, Krag Mava,
aikido
and straight-out karate. His arms and legs blurred. He came fast and, for a man of his years, extraordinarily so. I dodged most of the attacks, and blocked a few others. A couple of punches connected, but only glancing, and the mask absorbed the shock well.

I waited until I had his measure, then counter-attacked. I came at him straight forward, aiming kicks low. I had age on my side. I could hit harder, and his bones would break easier. I’d have added more punches to the mix, but my left hand wouldn’t cooperate.

We battled back and forth before his throne. Ducking, dodging, spinning and then attacking, we moved round and round. I tagged him with a punch and a kick, the latter catching him right over his big belt buckle. He retreated and rubbed his middle.

I went for him.

It was about halfway there that I realized the truth of the saying “Old age and treachery will beat youth and beauty.” Not that I was that young or beautiful anymore, but he was ancient and steeped in treachery. I aimed a kick at his right knee, but he whirled to the side, then flicked his cape over my face. I grabbed at it and yanked, tearing it from his neck, leaving me blind with both hands full of fabric.

A kick to the back of my right knee dropped me. He pounced, slamming with both knees on my chest. Ribs groaned. Two punches full in the face. And then, as the cape came away, he nailed my wounded hand with an elbow.

Pain arced, jolting me. That gave him all the time he needed. Nighthaunt yanked my cowl back, then pounded me again and again. Three more shots, blackening my eye, cutting my cheek and splitting my lip. Lights shimmered. He slammed my head into the stone floor.

He raised his fist one more time. “My city. Mine. Not a place for your ilk.”

I spat blood, staining his ghostly insignia. “The same ilk, remember.”

His fist fell.

I met it with my other shock rod. I hit the button.

Nighthaunt grabbed the rod and laughed. “Insulated.”

“You’re not the first.” I cranked the handle. The spikes shot out.

Spikes caught the Kevlar of his gloves, but didn’t penetrate flesh. He shook his head. “Armored.”

I tugged the handle toward me and twisted again. “I’ve been waiting for that, too.”

The battery immediately discharged all its energy into a second set of coils, turning the shock rod into a powerful magnet. Before Nighthaunt could rip his hand free, the shock rod yanked him up and back. It mashed his hand against his statue’s ankle. Various loose pieces of metal flew through the air. A Spookstar clanged against the rod and a fragment from the pendulum kissed his ribs.

Then the charged failed.

Nighthaunt dropped into a crouch. He pulled the shock rod from his glove as if it were nothing more than a burr. He studied the weapon for a second. “Live by the shock rod and you’ll die by it.”

I swiped at blood and got up unsteadily. “You’re a murderer, just like your father.”

He snarled and came for me. I’d expected the remark would enrage him. Getting him too furious to think was my only chance of winning.
 

As chances go, it turned out to be pretty crappy. I went to dodge and slipped on his discarded cape. I went down to one knee. Nighthaunt rose above me. “Now my city will be safe!” He branded my spike-festooned shock rod high in both hands, ready to dash my brains out.

Another Spookstar whirled through the air. Nighthaunt staggered. The shock rod clattered to the ground. He stepped back, a hand falling to his throat. He pulled the blade free and stared at it, disbelieving.

I don’t know what he wanted to say. His words came in red bubbles.

Redhawk limped off the pendulum shaft. “I had to. You’re not Nick. You’re not Nighthaunt. Not anymore.”

Nighthaunt’s hand went to his utility belt.

I swept his legs

He dropped onto his back.

And right on top of the shock rod.

Nighthaunt’s body tensed, then slackened. It twitched a couple times, then Nicholas Haste lay still.

Redhawk helped me to my feet. “How did your father…?”

“That wasn’t my father.” Shaking my head, I wandered over to the robot dinosaur and knelt beside Sinisterion’s body. I brought both his hands together, palm to palm, and twisted. My father’s shape quivered, then melted as nanites retreated into the rings.

Selene smiled and sat up. “That ray locked the costume, otherwise I would have done more.”

“You did everything that needed to be done.” I smiled, despite my face hurting. “Blue Ninja know you borrowed her rings?”

“She gave them to me, and reprogrammed them to look and sound like your father.” Selene stood and caressed my swollen cheek. “I figured Nick would be willing to confront his old foe, and I’d get a shot at him. You and Greg just got here first.”

“How did you know it was him?”

“Nick once showed me a painting he’d done. It was of Capital City. Very clean, everyone well dressed. I asked if it was from his childhood. He said it was his vision for the future. He said it was how he wanted to see his city again. That sense of possession stuck with me. The only man who would have the resources to
remake
a city was Nick, and only Nighthaunt had the skill to break the city.”

“What made you think of that?”

“The painting hangs the hospital lobby.” She shook her head. “I didn’t know if anyone else had figured it out, so I talked to Blue Ninja and here I am.”

“And the family histories?”

“Puzzled together from things I’d heard over the years. Didn’t click until I heard you talk about your father after he died.” She kissed my cheek. “And Nick was wrong. You’re not alike. Not in the least.”

I led her back to where Redhawk stood over his fallen mentor. I squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“I just couldn’t let him do it. I couldn’t let him murder you.” He shook his head. “I just wish there had been another way.”

“There wasn’t.” I hooked my good hand around the back of Redhawk’s neck. “He’d trained himself to save the city from one problem: crime. It was his whole being, and then circumstances all changed. His training was useless. He tried to make a comeback and failed. No one appreciated him or his father or his family. He didn’t lose a career, he lost his life and legacy. He desperately wanted all of it back.”

“Oh, Nick.” Redhawk shivered. “If anyone could have seen this coming...”

“One man did.”

Greg frowned. “Who?”

“Nighthaunt. Think about it. If he’d wanted to, he could have done all of this without pitting you and Constitution and me against each other. In doing that, in forcing us to come together,
he
gave us a chance to see what was really going on. Even though Nick had given himself over to his Mr. Big personality, what was left of Nighthaunt still sought to bring him down.”

I wasn’t
 
exactly sure if that was true, but Greg accepted it with a weary nod. “It makes as much sense as any of this.”

I got beneath one of Greg’s arms and Selene the other. “It was as you said. He wasn’t Nick. He certainly wasn’t Nighthaunt. We’ll leave Mr. Big here, at the feet of the man who ultimately was his undoing.”

Chapter Forty-one

We piled into the Chaser and raced back into the city. Cruising down into the Fishkyll River valley some fire was visible–most notably around City Hall–but there was far less of it than I would have expected. We came across the Allen bridge and headed directly west toward City Hall. Getting close, travel slowed because we no longer drove through empty streets.

Citizens walked those streets, and walked them with purpose. I expected the destruction to shock them into zombies, or gawkers with video cameras recording everything in hopes of selling the footage later. Even armed individuals, carrying bats and sticks, out to exact justice, that would have made sense.

But we saw nothing like that. Sure, here and there a gang member marched with his arms up within a cadre of citizens, but somehow the criminal looked more relieved than aggrieved. The citizens, as they gathered, greeted each other cordially, then moved together toward the locus of trouble. Along the way they gathered debris and litter, piling bricks together, dumping trash in the baskets they set right again. Several men undertook to straighten a street sign, and others lifted a car from the sidewalk and replaced it on the street.

I pulled the Chaser over. Selene freed the nanites again, but shifted things to take the form of The Scarlet Fox. Redhawk pointed at the Murdoch in a tavern’s window. We exited the car to take a closer look.

The Murdoch randomly scrolled through channels, but the image remained constant. It displayed the destruction wrought–shots taken from various private and municipal security cameras. Direct feeds from Terry’s armor, or Red Angel’s, supplemented the footage. The images revealed a ravaged city, but also a city where law was winning against the criminal element.

Jimmy’s voice narrated. “Citizens of Capital City, these are the images you’re not supposed to see. This is what has been done to your city. You have to get out and help. You have to support the life you want to live. You can’t wait for heroes, you must
be
heroes. You know what to do. All the triumph of evil requires is that good men do nothing. The
defeat
of evil requires good people to do
something
. Act for your city. Act now.”

I keyed my radio. “Guardian, what’s happening?”