Ex-Heroes

Fourteen NOW

Cerberus cranked her speakers and her voice boomed across the street. “You want to talk, be quick. That other truck’ll be back in a few minutes with reinforcements.”

The bald Seventeen barked a laugh and gestured to someone out of sight. Half the chains dropped from the front of the garbage truck.

The beast darted forward, its talons scraping on the pavement, and got yanked back by the remaining chains. Even dead, it was fast. When the ex moved, the silver pendant bounced on its bony neck, half-bound by the collar they’d put on it.

“Is that what I think it is?” whispered Andy.

“Yeah,” Cerberus said. There was a metallic hiss to her voice when she whispered. “That’s Cairax.”

“Shit.”

It was hairless, and death hadn’t changed its leathery skin much from the splotchy purple of a fresh bruise. It was still gaunt, and even with its curved spine it was as tall as Cerberus. Its head was like a monstrous deep-sea fish, with cloudy, saucerlike eyes bent in a permanent scowl by the thick brow ridge, and a forest of fangs and tusks jutting out past its lips. The long, spidery fingers each ended in a knifelike claw. Its tail dragged on the ground, the barbed end twitching now and then.

“You and I both know they didn’t hear your radio,” the bald man said. “So you’ve got about ten minutes for that truck to get home and another twenty to get back here.” He pointed down at the beast. “How many people can he kill in that time?”

Cairax lunged again and the garbage truck shook as the chains went tight.

A quick blink shifted her screens and gave her picture-inpicture of the rear-view cam. She could just see Andy’s profile behind the lift gate. “Who’s hurt?”

“Jarvis is bleeding pretty bad but I think we’ve got it. Ty …I think Ty’s dead. Half his throat’s gone.” There was a pause. “We’ve got four guns on Cairax’s forehead.”

“He’s bulletproof,” hissed Cerberus. “He’s mine. Get baldy.”

The Seventeen banged on the roof of the garbage truck with the AK’s stock. “You all done whispering over there?”

“You wanted to talk,” she thundered. “Talk.”

“Here’s the deal,” shouted the bald man. “They all drop their guns, you get out of the suit, we take everyone hostage, and you all get to live.”

“Hostage?”

“Our chief wants one of your people. And all the guns you’ve got in your little film-studio fort. Your ninja-woman boss trades the man and the guns for all of you. Everyone goes home happy.”

“And then we’ve got no weapons and you march in.”

He barked out another laugh. “No weapons? You looked in the mirror, big girl? Your side has all the best weapons. You’ve got all the living weapons.”

“And you’ve got some dead ones.”

“A few,” he said with a smile.

* * * *

“The Boss of Los Angeles,” repeated Stealth.

Within the cell, the ex nodded. “You want to hear it all now or you need a minute? I know this messes with people the first time they see—”

“Speak.”

“Game’s changed. We’re expanding and you’ve barely survived until now. You can keep your home here on one condition.”

“Which is?”

The ex held up his arm and pointed a pale finger past her. “We want him.”

Gorgon raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

“You’ve fucked with the SS since you first appeared,” said the dead ganger. “We owe you big time, all of us. We’re going to torture you for a month, bleed you a drop at a time, and then choke you with your own balls. And after you die, you’ll come back and we’ll do it all again.”

“I’m shaking,” said Gorgon.

Stealth held up a hand. “Who is your leader?”

“He’s the Boss of LA, head of the Seventeens. He rules this city except for one little fort here in Hollywood.”

“That does not tell us who he is.”

“Everyone called him Peasy on the news,” grinned the dead thing, “so that’s what he’s been using.”

A long moment passed before Stealth tipped her head. “Is there any more to this message?”

“Figured you’d send a team out for the truck we spiked last night. Some of our people are taking them hostage right now. You get them when we get the eye-guy.”

“I doubt that will happen.”

It grinned, showing off the pentagram. “I don’t. Got a few superpowers of our own these days.”

* * * *

Cerberus shifted, her feet scraping on the pavement. “And if we don’t feel like being hostages?”

The bald man looked down at the straining thing on the front of the truck. “I let the demon loose and take anyone it doesn’t eat.”

“It’ll go after your people, too.”

He shook his head. “No,” he grinned, “it won’t. Any other clever ideas?”

She heard a faint scrape and looked back again. Another rifle barrel had slid out, peeking over her shoulder. She switched back to main view and tried to see the bald man’s eyes behind his sunglasses. “I’m thinking I could throw your big bad truck half a block once I tear the demon’s head off,” she growled.

“You got to get current, big girl,” the Seventeen said. He slung his AK back over his shoulder and waved his arms at the buildings around them. “You’re still thinking then, not now. We’re the way things are, the way they’re going to be from now on. We’re the majority. You need to get out of this superhero-survivor mentality if you plan on seeing Christmas.”

Her arms ached for the cannons. One burst would turn the bald man to mist. A cloud of red mist with boots.

“So, I see a lot of guns aimed this way,” he said. “You want to drop ’em all, or are we going to do this the fun way?” Again with the stupid grin.

The titan flexed her fingers, wrapping them into armored fists the size of footballs. “It’s not going to be fun.”

“Matter of opinion. Any last words?”

“Yeah.” She glanced up at the sky. “What took you so long?”

The bald man looked up and the air exploded into flames between them.

St. George landed in front of Big Red , inhaled, and spat a second cone of fire at the Dodge. He leaped back up, twisting in the air over the pickup, and threw more flames down on the people in the truck bed.

The Seventeens screamed. A few leapt from the Dodge, and as they did it blossomed into a ball of light and heat. The tree branches above caught fire.

Another leap carried the hero back to the garbage truck. The demon flailed at the air in his direction. Gunfire washed over the street. The rounds chimed as they struck Cerberus and wrinkled St. George’s clothes. A few sparked off the pavement. His new sunglasses exploded into shards of black plastic.

Some spotty return fire came from Big Red . The Seventeens crawling from the burning Dodge winced and threw up their hands.

The bald man stood on top of the truck and grinned. He swung his AK down and emptied the magazine at St. George. The hero’s leather jacket shredded apart.

“HOLD YOUR FIRE!” bellowed St. George. Smoke poured from his mouth as his voice echoed on the street over the gunshots, the sound of the burning truck, and the cries of the wounded Seventeens.

The bald man’s AK ran out of ammo and locked. He shrugged and tossed it down into the truck. “Give it a rest,” he called out to his people.

“So,” said St. George, “let’s review. You’ve just wasted a bunch of ammo, we did not. We’re bulletproof, your people are not. We’re near our base, you are not. Did I miss anything?”

“I’ve got the demon,” said the bald man.

“Then set it loose,” St. George said. “If you really think a zombie version of Cairax can take two heroes who were both better than him when he was alive, go for it.”

The bald man’s smile faltered.

“Just keep in mind, the minute you do, the kid gloves are off. Right now you can all walk away. You unleash that thing and we take it and you apart.”

The two men stared each other down across the dusty street. A curl of smoke twisted from St. George’s nostril. Cairax leaned forward again, snapping the chains tight.

The bald man nodded. “This one’s yours, dragon man,” he said. He stomped twice and the huge truck began to back away. “Just remember if Peasy doesn’t get his man by—”

A crack echoed on the street and the Seventeen’s glasses leapt from his head. The bald man tumbled back into the garbage truck and it came to a halt with a hiss of brakes.

Billie lifted her eye from the sights.

Fire flashed in St. George’s mouth. “What the hell was that?!”

She shrugged. “Cerberus said to take him out.”

“What?”

“Before you got here,” explained the armored titan.

“Things changed. They were leaving!”

“So what?” said Billie. “They just killed Ty!”

One step put St. George at the truck. He yanked the rifle out of her hands, twisted it into scrap, and she flinched away. “They kill,” he shouted at her. “We don’t. Not unless there’s no other choice. We’re the good guys. We’re supposed to be better than them.”

“They killed Ty,” she snarled. And then her eyes went wide. “Hey, dragon man,” called someone behind him. The bald man.

He was back on top of the garbage truck. A gory hole spread across the side of his face. The eye hung low in the shattered socket, and the flesh had peeled back to reveal the ivory teeth set in his jaw. The slow blood was dark and clumpy.

His good eye leered at them from a sunken socket. Without the sunglasses, they could see the chalky irises and wide-open pupil. The eyes of the dead.

“As I was saying,” he said, “Peasy gets his man by the end of the week, or we grind your home into the mud. You got me?”

St. George stared up at the dead thing. “What the hell are you?”

“New rules, dragon man,” the ex said. “We’ve been playing by new rules for months and you’re just finding out now.”

The hero landed on top of the garbage truck next to the dead man. Down in the bin, a score of rifles leaped to cover him, but the bald man waved them away. Up close St. George could see the ragged flaps of flesh Billie’s shot had made, the dark veins under the skin, smell the decay. The ex grinned at him through its mangled face.

“End of the week,” it said. “The boss gets what he wants, or you all die.” It reached up and gave its mangled face a prod. “You might want to get in a little target practice before then.”

The ex stomped his foot again. The truck beeped as it backed up to Marathon. St. George stepped back, gliding down to the street. The bald man gave him a salute as the truck turned and rolled back out to Western.

Cerberus thudded up next to him. “He’s an ex.”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.” He glared up at her. “Where the hell do you get off telling them to kill people?”

“We were outnumbered and outgunned. We did what we had to.”

“Do it again, Danielle, and I will peel you out of that suit and scrap it with my bare hands. Clear?”

“Don’t get all high and migh—”

“Luke,” he bellowed. “How many extinguishers are you carrying?”

“Just the one we brought with us. We stripped most of them out last night.”

He pointed at the flaming Dodge. “Somebody get that fire under control. The rest of you spread out. Standard watchdog. Try to raise the Mount again. Get Mean Green back out here with some more firefighting gear.”

“ Road Warrior ’s already got two extra extinguishers on it,” said the driver.

“Whoever can get out here first. Last thing we need is a major fire running loose in the city.”

There was a single gunshot from the truck. Billie lifted her pistol from Ty’s forehead and rammed it back into her holster.