Project Northwoods (57 page)

Tim’s eyes snapped open. “Let’s go!”

They ran toward the wall of water, the mass shifting and moving along before it collapsed before them. And suddenly, there they were, the many which Morgan had somehow seen. The Enforcers were in rank, the frontmost recovering from being bowled over. The second row, still standing, raised their rifles to open fire, but Tim and his companions were leaping over the rising Enforcers – Tim making sure to send his foot into the face of the one in front of him – and smashing headlong into the officers.

Immediately, he lost sight of his team, but it wasn’t about coordinating attacks; it was about carnage. Tim was smashing his way through the officers, arcing his fist across the face of one, straight kicking another, grabbing the vest of a third and twisting him around before bringing his fist down as hard as he could on the man’s sternum. It was only a matter of moments before he was surrounded, but it was exactly what he and his fellow brawlers needed.

It made guns useless. Friendly fire was too great a risk.

The telescoping batons were out, about half of them snapping with electricity. One sparking cudgel swung at shoulder level at Timothy, who easily ducked under before he grabbed the outstretched limb and punched upward toward the elbow. The joint snapped and the Enforcer shuddered backward in agony before Tim grabbed him by the neck and yanked, spinning in place and pulling the officer off his feet, through the air, and releasing him into an advancing crowd.

A standard baton smashed him on the back of head, forcing Tim to grab hold of the attacker’s wrist and spin them in front of him. He squeezed, feeling the bones shatter before he released his victim and kicked him hard enough to send him flying backward. Tim briefly saw the Bearorist leaping at an Enforcer and knocking the victim to the ground, tearing at the assault mask before kicking up and off the downed man into another one. He couldn’t help but smile. It was kind of fun in an ultra-violent kind of way.

Two Enforcers bellowed from behind him, compelling his attention. The two were charging, metal batons at the ready, when Tim launched himself toward them. His hands latched around their throats before they could react. He threw one to the ground while his grip tightened around the other. He stomped down on the grounded Enforcer before yanking the baton out of the throttled officer’s hand. Releasing him, the man wobbled in the rain before Tim brought the baton smashing on his face, sending him spinning into the mud.

“Behold the fury!” someone shouted behind him. Tim whirled around as a black armor-vested man rapidly closed the distance between them, an improbably large sword flashing in his hand. Quickly, the attacker swung the huge weapon and Tim instinctively swung the baton to intercept only to have the metal rod sliced in two.

The man recovered from the swing by carrying through with the momentum and spinning to bring the blade around again. Tim closed what gap between them remained and brought his arm up to interrupt the swing. The man’s arm connected with Tim’s, giving the villain time to deliver several quick jabs to the swordsman’s chin. Each one would have downed anyone un-Bestowed unless they had trained to withstand such punishment.

Tim was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and headbutted to the ground, the blow briefly breaking his nose. The swordsman reared back for an overhead bisection and swung downward, hard, as Tim rolled backward. The sword sunk into the mud as Tim got to his feet and leapt forward, bringing his fist down on the other man’s face and sending him rocketing to the ground. Taking the opportunity to pin the hero beneath him, Tim leapt on him knees-first, then pounded his face repeatedly. His victim tried to move, but Tim was incredibly dense, owing to both his super strength and nigh invulnerability.

It took an Enforcer body-slamming him off his target to make him slide off. It must have been like running headlong into a wall, because Tim felt the Enforcer’s collarbone shatter at the impact. The two spilled onto the earth, Tim rising as the officer screamed at the bloodied hero rising from the mud: “Claymore, are you okay?”

With a grunt, Tim leaned over and gripped the Enforcer by the vest and heaved him into a group of his fellows with their backs turned to him. The officer was clearly incapacitated, no point in keeping him around as a roadblock. Before he could turn around, a red-uniformed hero leapt at him, punching at his face. Tim’s head snapped along with the blow while he reached up and clamped onto the back of the hero’s neck. Tim brought the man’s face down, hard, on his knee, and he slumped, gurgling, to the ground.

The man the Enforcer had called Claymore shrieked behind him, and Tim darted to the side as he spun around, narrowly avoiding being cleft in two. The speed at which the swordsman moved was impressive, but all Tim had to do was wear him out… or lure him toward his allies. Tim ducked under a horizontal blow and tackled into Claymore, picking him up and running into more Enforcers, bowling them aside before he tripped and pile-drived the hero into the ground. Tim toppled on top of Claymore before rolling off and aiming a high kick at his face.

Claymore rolled aside and rose as Tim’s foot came crashing into the mud. He stood, brandishing his sword like a battering ram. Tim couldn’t extricate himself in time – the sword point stabbed into his gut. The pain was intense, radiating, and made all the worse as Tim’s opponent lifted him into the air and slammed him downward, sinking the sword further through him and into the earth.

He met his attacker’s eyes through the agony of having an unnecessarily large blade embedded in him. He saw something flicker in the hero’s eyes… doubt, maybe… but he didn’t look pleased with himself, that was for damn sure. The little prick let the handle go, took a shaky step back, and looked at his cohorts.

“One down!” he shouted, pumping his fist in the air. The gathered Enforcers shouted their approval and pumped their fists once, twice… then stopped. “What’s…” He spun in place. Tim was reaching toward the twin ‘sword-breaker’ spines on the blade. With a twist, he snapped them off, brought his hands further up, and did the same for the crossguard. Then, one hand reaching up, he pulled himself up, along the blade, hand-over-hand. “What in the name of heroism…” Claymore took a step backward as Tim forced the grip through his body, up and over, and then fell by the sword’s side. The entire thing was now stained with blood as Tim got to his feet, snarling with rage. He grabbed the sword and, in one deft pull, yanked it free from its earthen scabbard. Claymore smiled. “Nigh-invulnerable.” He began to circle Tim, flexing his muscled arms in anticipation.

He leapt at Tim, anticipating an attack that didn’t come. Instead, Tim flicked the blade upward as he spun, slicing off three fingers and a chunk of Claymore’s right, outstretched hand. Claymore was already doubling over in agony when Tim swept low, cleaving off his right foot at the ankle. Claymore was screaming as he rolled onto his back, eyes rolling.

Tim looked up, the surrounding Enforcers taking a step backward as he raised the sword into the air. “For villainy!” he shouted before bringing the blade down.

A gunshot rang out, and the sword exploded out of his hand. Tim flicked his wrist and turned toward the origin of the sound. The Enforcers parted as Julia appeared in the rain. Her gun still smoked as she popped the cylinder out, pulled the expended round free, and slid in a new one. Her eyes did not leave Timothy. It was a strange sensation, looking at her resolute face, knowing what he knew about her, knowing how he had felt about her, once… what had seemed like ages ago. He had seen her naked, known her physically, tasted her lips and body… and yet here she was, gun now fully loaded and decidedly his enemy.

The pause hung between them, the sounds of combat seemingly far away. The rage he had felt moments ago was gone, replaced with… a feeling he couldn’t explain. “Hey,” was all he could say.

“I didn’t have to miss.” Julia raised her revolver and aimed it in his direction, one handed. She pulled the hammer. “And I won’t again.”

It didn’t matter how nigh-invulnerable he was, repeated heavy caliber blasts anywhere would do serious damage… at least enough to render him unconscious. He cautiously took ponderous steps toward her. “Julia.” His hands were up.

“Gunslinger,” she corrected.

“You know this isn’t how it’s meant to be.” He smiled widely, hoping to make her falter in her confidence.

If it worked, she didn’t show it. “Back off, Timothy.”

He made a face. “First name basis all around, huh?” Tim chuckled. He gestured to the Enforcers as Julia suddenly became acutely aware of their presence. “They know about us?”

“Shut up,” she warned, her voice low.

“How we…” he stuck his tongue out, as though embarrassed about mentioning it. “You know?”

The Enforcers were either engaged elsewhere or too far back to hear as he approached, the officers backing away between the soon-to-be dueling hero and villain. Nevertheless, Julia sneered with anger. “Tim, stop this. Right now.” Her chin quavered. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said quietly.

“You won’t.” He leapt forward and grabbed the gun out of her hand. Spinning, he brought the revolver around toward her, but she had drawn her spare weapon and was raising it to his face. Tim lurched forward, bringing his free hand up to deflect her gun as she did the same. The guns reported, loudly, and Julia brought her pistol across Tim’s face. He brought his arm across hers and pulled it downward, toward the ground, as the guns barked again.

They continued, moving together and against each other in each motion. Julia brought her hands up and over, sending them spinning away and aiming their guns at each other. He lunged at her, gun out like a dagger, and she parried with her own pistol, sliding it closer to his face as his revolver grew closer to her. His trigger finger twitched and she squeezed in response, each gun roaring off.

Then he was crouching, trying to knock her legs out from under her. She leapt over his leg in a sideways flip, landing with her gun aimed at him. The gun thundered, but Tim had somersaulted backward into a crouch before she could adjust her sights. Now Tim was launching toward her, his momentum unstoppable considering his massive weight advantage. He collided with her, and they smashed into the ground.

Julia was pulling at him, forcing his momentum to carry him up and over until she ended up on top of him. She tried to bring her gun toward him, but his hand found a grip in her vest. He yanked her left, slamming her into the ground, then right, the mud slapping wetly at her back. Then, he rose to his feet and pitched her into the air.

She sailed into the rain soaked-skies, ten feet above the fray, gun firmly in hand and aiming it at Tim. Her gun flared as Tim brought up his own and fired, the shots going wide. She fired again as she began to plummet toward the ground, and he responded in kind.

She landed, hard, in a crouch. Her teeth gritted as her shins ached from the impact, but she stood her ground. “Give. Up. Timothy.” He could barely hear her above the rain. Slowly, he brought the gun up toward her.

“You’re out of bullets, Jules.” Shock spread over her face before disappearing. He could see her eyes flicker, mentally recapping the number of times she had pulled the trigger. He wavered for a moment, watching her. He un-cocked the gun and brought it to his side. “Next time, don’t shoot my girlfriend.” He turned to face the crowd of Enforcers, most of them engaged with other villains.

He could see Father Fistmas bashing his way through a few Enforcers while at least two clung to his back, beating his head with batons. Three of the Eighth Street Bros were still up and fighting. He couldn’t see the Bearorist anymore, but…

Someone kicked out his leg from beneath him, and a Bowie knife pressed up against his neck. He felt the blade bite against his skin, not entirely dissimilar to the sword against his flesh earlier. The heat of another’s body prickled at his ear. “Please, Tim… don’t… don’t continue this fight. I don’t want you…”

“To die?” he interrupted. “I know. Otherwise, all those rounds would have hit me.” He reached up and grabbed her, yanked her up and over his head, and sent her sprawling on the ground beneath him. Her face was contorted with pain and… something else. He felt an ache in his chest at the sight, but he rose to his feet. “I’m sorry…”

Suddenly, he was hurtling through the air. He hit the ground at high velocity, feeling his shoulder snap out of place. He kept rolling, end over end, until he managed to land on his feet, and even then it took several meters to stop.

Tim gazed upwards at Arbiter, the hulking man gently offering his hand to Julia and pulling her upright. She backed away, her eyes shifting between her employer and Tim, clearly unable to process just what to do. Arbiter’s attention snapped to Timothy, his body turning to face the villain.

“It seems we have a troublemaker on our hands,” Arbiter boomed, although it was probably his standard volume.

“You know, if you were this lonely,” Tim began, snapping his arm back into place, “you could have just called.” Tim laughed before spitting in the mud. “This kidnapping shtick is just
so
desperate.” He hoped he sounded as confident as he did in his head, but there was no real danger of intimidating Arbiter and he knew it.