Project Northwoods (60 page)

“Wanna get me a new gun?” she asked. He looked at her, and she nodded over at the side mirror.

He smiled. “You know it.”

He slammed on the brakes and swerved to the right as Allison kicked the door open. The Enforcer was practically inside the ambulance as she grabbed him and yanked him in. The motorcycle hit the door and fell away in a shower of sparks.

Her pull was enough to make the Enforcer drop his pistol on the floor. With her new gun in reach, she balanced the man on her foot and kicked him out, his body slamming into a parked car. Moments later, a fireball smashed into the door and tore it free from its brackets despite Mat pulling the wheel to the left.

Colonel Morant fell behind the ambulance, watching as Spark patrolled the sky above them, lobbing his incendiary gifts in an attempt to slow them down. In a moment, Catalina Capone would be behind him, no doubt waiting to pepper him with bullets. Not that it mattered at this point. All semblance of order and justice had been supplanted. The blanket order to kill villains… it was unthinkable in this day. Right now, they were fighting for their lives just as every hero was doing in return. The pitched battle he had overheard on the radio was a horrifying callback to the dark days of Apartheid South Africa… or even the United States in the last days of the Silver Age.

They were killing his men, yes, but he had to draw the line. “Overseer, I need to speak with Arbiter,” he said, moving forward to outpace a burst of gunfire.

“Colonel Morant.” Arbiter’s voice was unhappy. “I trust you have good news.”

“I need you to contact the police…”

Arbiter cut him off. “Are you admitting your inability to kill the fugitives?”

“I am trying to bring them to justice!”

“As am I, Colonel.”

The pause was just long enough to watch Spark send a laser-like beam into the side of the ambulance, carving a neat black line in the metal. The driver maneuvered the vehicle away, and the attack inadvertently blasted a civilian vehicle into slag. “I know where they are heading. I just need to organize a blockade…”

“Stand down.”

The words made a chill run up his spine. “What?”

“You are to return to Fort Justice immediately.” Arbiter didn’t need to explain what was being mobilized. Morant’s gut twisted.

“You can’t be…”

“That was not a request.”

He fought the urge to curse, but slowed down to a stop as the ambulance continued darting to avoid Spark. The roar of another motorcycle’s engine filled his ears, but he didn’t turn. Catalina sped past him, laughing wildly before arcing back to a stop twenty yards away. She faced him, revved the engine, and ruffled her wind-swept hair. “Lucky you, colonel.” She flipped him the bird, gunning the machine again. The rear wheel spun, pivoting the cycle in place before she hopped on and sped off down the way. “You ain’t on the list!”

Morant watched her go, her final words echoing behind her. It would only be a matter of time before they reached the outskirts of New York City proper. From there, finding them would be a lost cause.

“The last Enforcer has fallen back!” Talia shouted. She clamped her hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Good shooting.”

He thinly smiled and nodded.
It was easier when I knew they weren’t live bullets,
he thought as he glanced at the blue mark on the magazine. In the off chance an Enforcer lost control of the motorcycle and died in a twisted heap because of his marksmanship, he could rationalize at least some of the guilt away.

“What about the fire guy?” James asked. Talia looked back at him, mostly stunned at the fact that he was still there.

As if to answer, Spark darted downward behind them, spinning like a tornado. With a punishingly loud
crack
, the Bestowed hero shot toward them. Arthur brought the gun up to get him off their trail, but all he succeeded in doing was forcing the hero to dart around as he effortlessly dodged the bullets. Talia brought her gun up and squeezed the trigger, keeping up the barrage as Arthur’s magazine ran dry. With a click, her gun followed suit.

Talia and Arthur quickly shut the doors of the ambulance as Spark gathered billowing columns of crackling, hungering flame. With a squeal of superheated air, the metal tore free and slammed into them as the concussion wave threw both bodies and debris back. They screamed as the molten air and metal seared them, scalding their hands before they got enough leverage to kick the doors away. The twisted parts fell out of the gaping hole in the ambulance and, with a sudden orange flare, Spark launched himself toward the vehicle, knocking the detritus out of the way. With another wave of heat, he was inside, clutching the sides. He was handsome and blond, his skintight black suit marred only by a circular oval with a smiling fireball in the middle. His brown eyes flashed among the villains, waves of heat radiating from his form.

“Alright,” he growled maliciously. “Where’s the daft bitch who killed my brother?”

“Is that rhetorical?” James asked. Talia and Arthur glanced at him, not sure if he was trying to antagonize the hero or if it was just a tragic coincidence.

Spark darted and grabbed James by the neck. Almost immediately, the collar of his shirt withered under the intense heat radiating off the hero. James wailed in pain as his skin grew a deep red underneath Spark’s grip.

“James!” Talia shouted, moving toward the hero. She had barely taken her second step when she was met with a wall of heat, the force of it knocking her back.

“Now, this idiot will die unless you tell me where Catalina is.” James suddenly wailed in a higher register, his neck blistering underneath Spark’s palm.

Allison apparently just realized there was an interloper and turned around. “What the…” she started, bringing up a pistol. Spark flicked his free hand and Allison dropped the gun. “Damn it!”

Arthur turned to her the moment it happened. “Allison, get rid of the gun!” He dove over the seat and grabbed for the weapon, squealing at the heat as he picked it off the floor. The gunpowder of the bullets started to ignite by the time he was able to throw it out the window, the loud and rapid pops forcing an already swerving Mat to bolt hard to the left.

“Love that trick,” snickered Spark. “Now, then… Catalina?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

Answering him, a bullet tore through the shoulder keeping James pinned in his grip. He grunted as blood splattered Talia and the newly-released James. Spark spun around and moved toward the ragged hole. The motorcycle sped up, darting out of the way when he launched a fireball at it.

“Take that, bitch!” he shouted as Arthur leapt from the front seat, a magazine of ammunition in his hand, and jammed it into the hero’s belt. Spark turned at the sensation, but not before Arthur hurled himself against the larger man, knocking him out of the ambulance and tumbling to the street below.

With a roar, an aura of flame pulsed around the now-standing hero. The heat was too much for the ammunition tucked into his utility belt, and it exploded, sending him crashing to the pavement.

“Really hope those were live rounds,” Arthur said.

Catalina heard Spark scream above the motorcycle’s whine, and she turned as the familiar orange gave way to an angry whorl of violet plasma. Adrenaline, heartbreak, and pain had given way to another level of his Bestowed biology. Catalina and the ambulance were his first targets. The cars nearest to Spark exploded, their gasoline tanks rupturing with the sudden change of pressure and heat.

She brought the motorcycle to a complete, squealing halt, unslung her rifle, and aimed carefully down the scope, straight at Spark’s heart. He seemed distracted by his new gift, his body coping with it, learning to adapt to it. She watched as Spark’s suit began to melt and bubble, unable to keep together under the new extremes of his Bestowed ability.

She pulled the trigger and the gun roared.

Nothing happened.

Again.

All she did was get his attention.

The bullets are melting
. She revved the engine and spun around, peeling out as she heard the shockwave of his takeoff. Catalina caught up with the ambulance and glanced to her side mirror as the hero approached faster than she thought possible. He wasn’t lobbing anything at his target; instead he got in low, near the ground, trailing its every move.

She had to think of a plan, otherwise they were all dead. Her eyes flitted over the buildings and down the road. A sign for the freeway caught her eye. Further up the way, the on-ramp lowered to the highway carved below the rest of the landscape. Revving the engine, she pulled further ahead and saw there was another overpass down the way. Catalina reached up for her earpiece. “Mat, take the northbound exit!” she shouted as she leaned down, pushing the motorcycle to go faster.

“What about the very enraged guy following us?” he asked, swerving to the side, only to have the hero follow suit.

“It’s fine,” she said dismissively. She hit the corner hard, leaning into the turn and leaving the ambulance to fend for itself. She made her way above the highway, glancing back to watch her companions just turning down the ramp. She’d need more time, and that meant driving to the
next
overpass.

Fuck
.

The buildings whipped by her until she slowed to make the turn. She wheeled the bike in a tight turn, slamming her foot on the ground as she watched Spark and the ambulance. The hero swept above and dove on top of the vehicle… probably trying to cook everyone inside. Catalina pulled her only explosive grenade from her belt and lobbed it in at the concrete barrier erected to prevent people from doing what she had planned. The bomb exploded, sending shrapnel into the air. She revved the engine as the smoke cleared.

There’s a good chance this is going to be the greatest thing ever,
she thought. She revved the bike.
Or I’m going to die horribly.

“I hope that’s you boss, ‘cause we’re cooking in here!” Mat shrieked on the headset.

She gunned the engine, squealing the tires as she lifted her foot from the ground. The motorcycle shot forward and went through the clearing she made, going airborne before rapidly losing altitude. She let go as the ambulance moved toward her, the motorcycle twisting as her weight fell away.

She fell, hard, on the ambulance, the force of the impact ripping her shoulder out of its socket. Her other hand shot out and managed to snag a handle on the top of the too-hot vehicle in a death grip. The motorcycle fell on the ambulance before crashing into Spark, blasting him off his perch. The man and machine toppled, end-over-end, hitting the pavement as the ambulance sped onward. With a final violet flash, the hero’s heat cooked the motorcycle’s gas tank, and it exploded.

The orange burst of flame swallowed the purple flare whole, shards of shrapnel ripping into the hero’s heart.