The truth of the matter

3:00… 2:59… 2:58…

There was no more time to think this over. I had to attack.

I tilted the controller. Reading the altitude numbers- looking up at the monitor-looking at M-2’s point-of-view screen, I could keep my little electronic pal low to the ground, hidden in the mist. I tilted the controller forward and M-2 began to fly at that low altitude, brushing through the grass as he approached the knees of the blond Homelander standing guard nearby.

M-2 moved silently. The blond Homelander didn’t hear him coming. But if I was going to get a good shot, I was going to have to come up higher. I tilted the controller forward. The numbers ratcheted up as M-2 lifted into the air, up around eye level. Now I could see the blond guard’s face in M-2’s POV screen.

I glanced over at the monitor. The blond guy still didn’t see M-2 coming.

Just a few more feet.

I stole a glance at the clock: 2:30… 2:29… 2:28…

Then: “Hey!”

I nearly jumped out of my sneakers. The voice had come directly from the controller in my hand. I looked. I could see the blond guard in M-2’s POV screen. He had sensed M-2 approaching. He had turned. He had seen the little device flying through the air straight at him and had cried out, his voice caught on M-2’s microphone.

Now the blond guard pulled his machine gun off his hip. He was turning around to face M-2.

I pressed the Fire button.

The electronic blast shook the controller in my hand-just like the vibrating function in the Xbox controller. The flash of electricity hit the blond guard smack in the forehead. He gave a cry and went tumbling backward, the machine gun flying out of his hands. Then he was down-and M-2 was still hovering near the place where he’d fallen.

But now I saw on the controller map: the red dots were on the move. I could hear voices-shouts-coming through the controller’s speakers. Not only that: I could see by the readout that M-2’s blast had depleted his energy and the numbers were low-though they were already climbing back up as he recharged his blaster from his energy source.

I glanced up at the monitor. Waylon was barking orders into his shoulder mike. The other Homelanders were charging toward the place where the blond guard had fallen. They were bringing their guns to bear on M-2.

All of them, that is, except the guard at the bunker exit. He had lowered his machine gun and was standing at the ready, but he stuck to his position, blocking my route of escape.

The three other guards converged on M-2. I had to keep him moving or they’d blow him out of the sky.

I looked at the clock on the bomb.