Just Cause: Revised & Expanded Edition Page 2

  “Move out, Lucky Seven,” said Spark.

  Sally thrilled to those words. In the six months since she’d joined up with the Seven, this was only the second time they’d been called out on an emergency. The first time was to assist with rescue and recovery efforts after Hurricane Isabel smashed into the East Coast.

  She’d spent years training for this, her first potential parahuman combat. Three years of her life had been spent under the tutelage of the Academy combat instructor. Before that, her mother and grandmother had coached her on the unique methods a speedster could use against opponents like disarming their weapons before they could be used, wrapping them in yards of tape or rope in mere seconds, and pummeling them with fists like machine gun bullets.

  Spark’s motorcycle screamed out of the garage, weaving in and out of holiday traffic. Sally and Carousel kept pace with him, one clad in scarlet and the other in naught but nearly-frictionless metallic skin. A younger Sally might have charged ahead—she was fast enough to cover the distance to McCormick in less than a minute—but years of training had tempered some of her natural impetuousness. She would stay with her team and follow the orders of her commander.

  Her mother had warned her about going solo in a combat mission. It’s easy to run ahead of everyone else, she’d said, to think that just because you’re faster, you’re better. Use your speed and accelerated perceptions to think before you act. You have the time. Use it wisely.

  Sally reminded herself of the basic combat tenets taught at the Hero Academy, all of which boiled down to: protect the innocent, support your teammates, and come home alive.

  Good advice, she thought. She intended to follow it to the letter.

  Chapter Two

  “When soldiers have been baptized in the fire of a battle-field, they have all one rank in my eyes.”

  -Napoleon Bonaparte

  December, 2003

  Chicago, Illinois

  Traffic clogged the roads for miles around the Convention Center as people tried to get away and emergency vehicles tried to get through. Sally and Carousel scouted ahead at high speed to find the best route for Spark to steer his motorcycle. Finally, they reached an impasse as the throng of evacuated conventioneers and onlookers became too thick to avoid.

  Spark brought his cycle to a halt, dismounted with an acrobatic leap, and uncoiled his whip. He swung it up into the air and snared the flying Bullet, who wrapped one of his huge hands around the tip. Spark’s momentum continued unchecked as Bullet lifted him up and over the crowd. Sally and Carousel picked their way through the thick crowd beneath the flyers.

  They reached the police line in seconds, where officers struggled to keep curious people back from the buildings and helped others maintain an orderly exit. The members of the Chicago Police Department looked relieved as the Lucky Seven heroes arrived on scene.

  “Fill us in, Lieutenant,” said Spark to a short, stocky woman who wore a helmet and armored vest.

  “It’s a giant robot thing,” said the officer. “It entered the main exhibition hall and began firing off tear gas canisters. Cleared the place out pretty fast.”

  Sally looked around and noticed many people in the crowd were coughing, with red faces and streaming eyes. Her breath mask would give her some protection from gas but it didn’t have a self-contained air supply, so she’d get a dose of whatever it was too.

  “Do you know what it’s after?”

  “What it’s after? Not at the moment. Security converged on it but it’s carrying some pretty heavy weaponry and they couldn’t get close to it.” The lieutenant pushed her helmet back and wiped sweat from her brow even in the freezing temperature. “We’ve got four officers unaccounted for, and there may be civilians stranded inside. Goddamn, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  A whine of feedback and a thrum of distortion filled the air as Stratocaster and Juliet materialized out of the sound and appeared right next to Sally.

  “Not late, are we?” Stratocaster flashed a tight grin at Spark.

  “What, did you stop for a latte and biscotti?” Spark snorted in derision.

  Stratocaster patted his vest pocket. “I saved you a couple. You want one with almonds or white chocolate?”

  Spark didn’t bother to reply and instead turned back to the lieutenant. “Has anyone possibly got a picture of this thing?”

  She nodded and pulled out her cell phone. “One of the missing officers was able to send this from his phone before we lost contact.” She held it up. The Lucky Seven members all crowded around to get a look. Sally strained to see past Bullet’s bulk, and just caught a glimpse.

  The blurry image showed an angular humanoid figure in dark blue and gleaming chrome, with four arms and two legs and a large bulky object on one shoulder. It was caught in the act of firing some kind of weapon from one of its intermediate limbs. A gout of flame jetted out and washed out part of the image from overexposure.

  Sally drew in a sharp breath. She knew this figure; he had haunted her dreams since she’d been old enough to understand what had happened to her father and who was responsible for his death.

  Destroyer.

  Destroyer had taken away half her family before she was even born, and she hated the coward inside his powered armor because of it.

  Destroyer.

  She whispered the name aloud and felt her perceptions accelerate out of fear. When she ran and moved at super speeds, her perceptions and thought processes accelerated as well, allowing her mind to keep up with her body. It could be a hindrance in a non-combat situation though, as everything seemed to slow down around her. She forced herself to calm down so she could still interact with the others.

  Spark confirmed her identification. “That’s got to be Destroyer. High-tech battlesuit and weapons, clearing out a science and technology expo. Just his style.”

  “But why is he still here?” asked Tremor. “I’d think smash-and-grab would be more his style. Why hang around to risk facing us?”

  “Because he never has,” said Juliet. “He longs to test himself against anyone and everyone. What better opportunity to face us than by attacking this facility?”

  “It has to be more than that,” said Spark. “He could have drawn us out anywhere, anytime. There must be something here he wants. Let’s make sure he doesn’t get it.”

  Sally trembled at high speed. She was terrified of Destroyer. He killed without compunction, without mercy. He’d killed her father.

  Now he was here, ready to kill her and her new friends.

  “Let’s go,” said Spark. “Stay alert, don’t bunch up. Bullet, Tremor, Trix, flank him and keep him from escaping. Carousel, Sally, try to disarm him. Juliet, if you can shut him down telepathically, do it. Strat—”

  Stratocaster slid his fingers down the strings of his guitar as sparks of energy danced away into dimensions unknown; he knew his role.

  “Lucky Seven, let’s roll!” Many of the onlookers took up the battle cry, made famous after fifteen years.

  The long lobby of McCormick Place was eerie and dark, only lit by emergency lighting. Sulfurous tendrils of bitter gas twisted around their feet as they entered. Sally adjusted her breath mask a little better to cut out the worst of the acrid stink.

  Spark uncoiled his whip and held it in both hands. At a moment’s notice, he could flick it out and send an electrical charge through the bare wire braided into the leather. Sally didn’t think it would do much damage against a heavily-armored villain like Destroyer, but Spark carried himself with such confidence that it made her feel a little braver.

  Stratocaster’s fingers still moved across the strings and fretboard of his guitar, but he’d muted the volume and only a slight purplish glow emanated from it. The others advanced with careful purpose, ready to let their powers fly.

  The silver-skinned Carousel whispered to Sally, “I’m scared.”

  “Me too.” Sally felt the muscles all through her torso tighten and clench at the approach of combat.

  Two
of the large doors leading to the exhibition hall had been wrenched off their hinges and the frame twisted into a semblance of some bizarre modern art sculpture. Beyond, Sally could see the flickering firelight of burning displays and carpeting.

  The Lucky Seven moved into the main hall. Right away, Sally noticed two security officers slumped against the wall, their uniforms blackened around smoldering holes in the chests. She pointed them out to the others. Juliet knelt down beside them, opening her mind to seek signs of life. She looked up toward Trix. “They’re both alive, but fading fast. Can you get them out?”

  He nodded, raised his hands, and willed his power to function. Sally’s ears popped as air rushed in around the two victims and gently lifted them as if they were on an air hockey table. He turned and guided them out, leaving eddies of smoke and gas in his wake.

  A crumbling sound echoed through the main hall over the crackle of flames. Sally caught a glimpse of motion overhead. Her perceptions shot into high gear and she realized a large chunk of cement was hurtling toward the group. Carousel reached for Spark to shove him out of the way. Sally wrapped her arms around Juliet, strained to overcome stubborn inertia, and yanked her to safety.

  Having done her best to protect Juliet, Sally checked on the others. Overhead, Bullet moved with glacial slowness to intercept the tumbling debris, one fist cocked in preparation to smash it into gravel. Tremor dodged upward, and Stratocaster thumbed his volume knob up. Satisfied that there wasn’t anything she needed to do, Sally relaxed her perceptions and the world snapped back up to speed.

  Bullet plowed his fist into the cement and shattered it into fist-sized chunks. The others dove away and cried out in surprise.

  With a whine of high-powered servomotors, Destroyer stepped through a burning display, a metallic demon. Humanoid but with four arms, the fifteen-foot-tall suit contained a small, angry man who gloated over the havoc of his own creation. All blue metal and chrome, the battlesuit looked like the nightmare of a Japanese toy designer, except Sally knew there was no whimsy at all in the sharp angles. In all the years since his debut in 1977, Destroyer had only ever lost to Just Cause once, and that was in his first battlesuit, built from junkyard wreckage.

  “WELL LOOK WHATI’VE FOUND.SNOWWHITE AND THESEVENDWARVES.” His voice modulated through high-end speakers into earth-shaking tones. “I WONDERED WHENI’D RUN ACROSS YOU SO-CALLED HEROES.”

  “Surrender, Destroyer. We’ve got you outnumbered. Power down your suit and exit it before we peel it off you.” Spark stood defiant despite a tear in the side of his suit. Sally could see a stain of blood on his side and wondered how badly he was hurt.

  Destroyer laughed, a mirthless chuckle that echoed off the high ceiling of the main hall. “I’VE FOUGHTJUSTCAUSE AND WON TIME AND TIME AGAIN,SPARK.WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOUR PITIFUL LITTLE CLUB CAN STOP ME?”

  Bullet and Tremor took up positions over Destroyer. Stratocaster played a low, throbbing riff, building power with each strum of the strings. Carousel touched Sally’s elbow. Sally turned to look, startled; she’d been almost hypnotized by Destroyer’s sheer size. Carousel held out a two-foot-long piece of steel rebar. She must have picked it up from some of the debris. Sally took it, feeling clumsy and awkward with it, and wondered how she’d ever disarm Destroyer with such a simple tool. “What about you?” she whispered to Carousel.

  Curved blades like scythes grew from the metal of Carousel’s arms to extend past her hands like deadly ribbons. “I’ll be fine with these.”

  “Last chance, Destroyer. Surrender,” called Spark.

  “YOU’RE BORING ME,” said Destroyer, a hint of glee in his voice. “LET’S FIGHT!”

  Destroyer didn’t wait for the Lucky Seven to make the first move. The unit on his shoulder swiveled and a missile the size of Sally’s arm burst out of it to impact point blank on Bullet. Instead of exploding in flames, the missile burst into a sticky, ropy substance that wrapped around Bullet’s arms and legs to cocoon him in less than a second. Destroyer pummeled him with a heavy metal fist the size of a mailbox and sent the enshrouded hero crashing into the ceiling in an explosion of ceramics, glass, and masonry.

  Tremor hit Destroyer with a blast of concentrated vibratory energy from one side while Stratocaster launched dissonant power chords at him from the other. The shoulder unit ripped away in the combined blast. Unfazed by the double-sided attack, Destroyer crowed “Suck on this, heroes,” and dropped a small spheroid onto the floor which flashed into smoke when it hit.

  Spark yelped as his batteries shorted out. Sparks shot from Stratocaster’s guitar as the internal circuitry melted into so much slag. It must have been an electromagnetic pulse bomb, thought Sally, to have shut down all the electronics.

  The guns mounted on Destroyer’s intermediate arms chattered as he fired large-caliber bullets toward them all. Sally and Carousel ran faster than the arm could track after them. Sally glanced up and saw the air around Tremor shimmer as she transmitted vibratory power through it at the battlesuit. Destroyer swung a gun at her and she barely had time to form a wall of vibration waves in front of her to deflect the bullets. Destroyer stepped toward her, firing nonstop, and drove her backward toward the wall.

  Sally saw an opening and ducked around Carousel to move in close to Destroyer. Although his intermediate arms were higher than she could reach, he’d stepped close enough to the wall that she could try a maneuver she’d practiced many times at the Academy. She accelerated in the blink of an eye and rushed at the wall on an oblique angle. She stepped up onto the wall and pushed off it to drive herself higher, the rebar raised and ready. Her perceptions fluttered into overdrive as she drifted toward Destroyer. A bullet left the mouth of the gun on a plume of smoke and flame, moving with the gentle pace of a curling stone on the ice. Sally ignored it and stuck the rebar underneath the gun barrel, put her feet against the intermediate arm, and heaved.

  Her mass was slight but her momentum was terrific, and she felt the barrel move as she levered it up and away from the firing mechanism. The gun discharged again, but this time a fountain of sparks erupted from it as the bullet lodged inside the barrel and twisted it into uselessness.

  Carousel attacked from the opposite side and sliced through the other gun’s firing mechanism with her wicked sharp blades. Destroyer reacted with the cold precision of an automatic, computerized response. His primary arm swung down and caught Carousel across her legs as she retreated. Sally heard a snap that made her feel ill. Carousel screamed in android pain and crumpled to the ground. Sally avoided the opposite descending arm only because she was faster than her friend.

  Given a momentary reprieve from Destroyer’s onslaught, Tremor blasted her powerful vibratory energy at the battlesuit’s head. Sparks flew from it in all directions, making a noise like a rotary grinder. Sally tumbled to the ground near Carousel, whose legs canted off in unnatural angles. She grabbed underneath her friend’s armpits and pulled her to safety while Destroyer was busy with Tremor.

  “It’s all right, you’ll be okay,” Sally gasped, trying to catch her breath.

  Carousel weighed next to nothing. Or maybe the adrenaline gave Sally unusual reserves of strength as she dragged the moaning speedster to safety behind a pile of debris. Sally had basic first aid training from the Hero Academy, but everything she had learned flew away in her panic. All she could think of was to keep her friend warm. Even androids felt shock, didn’t they? She zipped over to a display that hadn’t yet caught fire and snagged the cheap curtains.

  “Here,” she said. “I’ve got to wrap you up.”

  “Do… do what you need to,” whimpered Carousel. “It hurts. It hurts so bad.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sally couldn’t imagine how bad her friend’s injuries might be. She’d never been seriously hurt herself. Carousel’s broken legs terrified her. “Can you turn off your pain sensors?”

  Carousel nodded and her face grew serene and calm. “That’s better.”

  Sally nodded and wiped away tears she didn’
t have time for. “I’ll get you some help as soon as it’s safe.”

  “Go get him,” said Carousel. “I wish I could be more help.”

  “Just don’t die.”

  “Androids don’t die. They just go into p-permanent hibernation.” Carousel managed a wink.

  “Well, don’t do that either.” Sally glanced toward Destroyer. Tremor blasted bursts of vibratory power at him while dodging shots from his secondary cannon. Spark tried to cut Bullet free from the goop that enshrouded him. Stratocaster, powerless without his guitar, stayed under cover as much as possible. Juliet likewise could do very little to help in a straightforward combat situation; she couldn’t get close enough to Destroyer to try to shut his mind down with her telepathic powers. Trix was still missing in action.

  The Lucky Seven were about to lose the fight.

  Sally had to do something, but didn’t know what. “Hey, Destroyer, over here!” She leaped out from cover and brandished her piece of rebar to distract him enough to let Tremor get a telling shot in on his armor suit. He cut loose with a hip-mounted chain gun that swiveled to track her almost as fast as she could run away. Bullets chipped into the floor just behind her with every step. She skidded around a corner and gasped for breath.

  Angry tears blurred her vision. She felt helpless and afraid. What good was running? After more than ten years of training to be a superhero, she didn’t know what to do. Destroyer had made a mockery of the Lucky Seven and they would be very fortunate if all of them survived.

  Sally banged her clenched fist against her forehead. “Think. Think!”

  She stepped around the corner just in time to see a device detach from the back of Destroyer’s leg, hit the floor and bounce up into the air, spinning like a top. She dove behind the corner once more as the device exploded with a bang so loud it took her breath away.

  Underneath the ringing in her ears, a floor-shaking thrum echoed amid the destruction. Sally staggered to the edge and peeked around the corner. Destroyer had picked up a large case and fired his boot rockets. She wondered what was in the case but had no time for curiosity; somehow, she had to prevent his escape. The others lay sprawled amid the wreckage. She hoped they were only unconscious.