No Matter The Cost
Warmonger's Island – Wednesday
With the last of the pack restrained and stowed away in a storage closet, Jason took stock of his current situation. Both sleeves of his blue shirt now matched. Bloody and holey. He flexed his arm with no hint of injury restricting his movement. His leg had been hit in the thigh. That, too, was already healed. He put his full weight on it with no twinge of pain.
He cracked open the door and peered out. Nothing moved in the hallway that he saw. He concentrated on listening and heard nothing. “Sleep tight, boys,” he said to the fallen pack as he slipped out the door.
The corridor he was in had a high ceiling. It was about twenty feet high to Jason's estimate. The floor was scuffed with old painted lines and tire marks from golf carts, forklifts, or heavier transports. It was easy to note that the floor sloped downward at a gentle angle. Near as he could tell, down was towards the heart of the dome.
The lights above were few and far between. There were other passages that intersected the one he silently trod down. He had to duck into one to avoid the headlights of a golf cart when it passed him in the relative darkness. The cart was pulling a small personnel trailer. Four men sat in the cart itself, while six more rode on the trailer. The men were talking and laughing about something that Jason couldn't make out over the electric whine of the cart.
Once it was past, he slipped out behind it and followed. It's lights grew dimmer in the gloom, the further it traveled ahead of him.
Before long he heard voices coming from in front of him. “I swear, she's stacked!” It was a male voice. Jason didn't recall ever coming across a female dog soldier. “She must have about a fifty inch bust.”
“Let's think about that one. The woman is eight feet tall.”
“...and those legs,” first voice said. “Could you imagine having them wrapped around you?”
“Come off it, Burke. She'd snap you in half without even trying. Besides, from what I've heard, she plays for the other team,” the second voice said.
Jason moved closer to the doorway. It was a small office with just the two of them inside, from what he saw. One desk with a computer on it, a couple of chairs, and a small table with a coffee maker seemed to be the entirety of the room's contents.
“Whaddaya mean, Joe? Plays for what other team?”
“Titanium ain't inta guys, Burke,” a third voice said. “Heard she was seen smooching on dat hawk chick. Least dat's what Bolt says.”
“Oh,” Burke said. “At least I got pics of her down on the beach. I can sell them ta one of the girlie magazines. Maybe that, uh, what's that one? Under the Spandex?”
“Skintight?” Joe asked.
“Yeah! That' the one. Or maybe Naked Power,” Burke answered. “I got a video from the helmet cam. Swapped out the memory card. Got it all right here!” Jason saw a helmet-less dog soldier pat a pocket.
“Oh, man, ya gotta let me have copies, Burke,” Number Three said.
“Burke, she finds out you were out following her, much less taking pictures of her getting naked and sunbathing, you won't live long enough to sell them,” Joe told him.
“Tell you what,” Jason said, “you hand over the memory card, and let me borrow your computer, she'll never have to know that you took the pictures, Burke.” He stepped into the office.
Joe, sitting in front of the computer said, “Who the hell are you?” His hand moved slowly towards the grip of his gun.
“I'm the man Bauer is waiting for.” Jason pointed at the gun hanging off the back of the chair. “I wouldn't do that if I were you.” He picked up a coffee cup off the desk. Burke and Number Three were also reaching for their weapons. Jason threw the coffee cup at Burke. It shattered on his forehead.
A hook kick caught Joe on the side of his face when he tried to get his gun up. The kick sent him and his chair slamming into the wall. Joe spilled out of the chair, unconscious.
Number Three was bringing his assault rifle to bear when Jason grabbed the barrel of it. He forced the gun back until there was a snapping sound. Number Three's wail of pain was cut short by a palm strike.
He turned to look at Burke, who was obviously dazed. Jason closed the door of the office and pulled cuffs out of Joe's belt to restrain him with. Number Three followed while Jason kept an eye on Burke. There was blood leaking from his nostrils and both eyes were darkening.
Jason took Burke's cuffs and attached him to a pipe running down the wall. He left him in a sitting position. He fished the memory card out of Burke's pocket. A small crimson flash and it was gone.
He reached for the desk drawer and saw what he was looking for mounted on the wall over the desk. A map of the complex, complete with a “you are here” arrow indicating the office he was in, was hanging there. He looked it over. Most of it was marked “storage”. A few areas had been designated as barracks or other support facilities. The hall he had been walking down was the only way into the central dome. Between where he was and where he wanted to be was a large, open area that was designated as a day room. From the map, there was no way to avoid it. It also didn't look like there was any way to avoid further traffic in the hall from this point onward. He would have to trust to his luck.
He took a last look at Burke, Joe, and Number Three. He locked the office door and closed it when he left.
Luck seemed to be with him as he followed the painted lines. A large section of the wall had been removed to allow access. Carts were parked in and around the doorway. Jason moved stealthily between them as he moved past the day room. The room was large and outfitted like a cafeteria. Tables in lines with chairs to one side of them covered most of the floor. From the layout, it could also be used for briefings. Televisions were mounted high up on the walls. From the screen he could see, it looked like Monday night's football game between the Hudson City Thunderbolts and the Vibora Bay Hammerheads was being shown. Charlie Walker had told Jason about the game. The Hammerheads had only scored a single field goal the entire game.
He neared the far side of the opening when he overheard part of a conversation. “They just called in. The Guardians pulled out. The Blood Guard beat them off... I don't know... I said that I don't know... Look, we're here until we're told to pack up. Suck it up and deal with it.”
About time, Jason thought to himself.
Once past the day room the tunnel grew darker. The lights were farther and farther apart. As he neared the end of the tunnel he noticed a giant shadowed form in the dim light. The figure was roughly man-shaped, but it stood almost ten feet tall. It would easily have dwarfed Titania. Jason caught the glow of the thing's visual sensors.
The heavy exterminators, robotic orientation had been some of the worst creations in Warmonger's arsenal. They alone had racked up a serious number of kills against the world's heroes. They had been dubbed “hero slayers” long before anyone knew what their actual designation was.
The first ones had been heavily armored, but slow. The second, and last version seen before Warmonger had been nuked, had been faster and all of the weapon systems had been upgraded. The monstrosity before Jason would put those to shame.
Jason's eyes glowed red. Shadows altered with his vision. Colors contrasted like a monitor with the settings off. Way off. He saw the heat of a hot water pipe where the insulation didn't cover it completely. He saw the heat from an electrical junction box as the electricity poured through the cables. The only hint he saw from the HERO Slayer was the visual sensors. There was no heat, no hint of power going to the weapon systems.
He moved cautiously forward. He noticed the spikes protruding from the knuckles of the machine's massive fists. Under one arm was the barrel of some cannon. An emitter on the chest was covered by something clear. Whether it was part of a focusing crystal of a laser or some type of covering for a sensor array, Jason couldn't tell. A box-like structure near one shoulder appeared to be a missile rack. What he was looking at was a formidable machine of war.
He skirted the giant slowly. Running from the back of the machine's head were cables that terminated at a battery behind the robot's foot. He reached out and laid his palm on the armored thigh. Nothing. No vibrations. No hum of machinery. It appeared as if this HERO Slayer was set up purely for intimidation purposes.
He kept a wary eye on it over his shoulder. He moved quietly to the smaller pedestrian door set into the wall beside the massive garage door.
The door opened quietly into absolute darkness. Jason's altered vision allowed him some sight, but the distance was nowhere near what he would have preferred. Far distant was, quite literally, a light at the end of the tunnel. His eyes returned to normal.
Jason strode purposefully out onto the floor of the dome. In that moment he felt a kinship with the gladiators of old, walking out onto the sand of the arena, with the same intent. To survive. Whether the challenge would be other gladiators, or lions, or some technological nightmare, he would meet it head on.
The interior of the dome was massive. Such a structure one might expect to be measured in football fields. The dome could very well be measured in city blocks, with height enough to include skyscrapers. It was an impressive feat of architecture that, somehow, Warmonger had managed to hide from the world.
The floor appeared to be solid. He noticed no cracks or joins between plates. It seemed to be one massive piece. The soles of his shoes made no sound with his steps.
In what would be the center of the floor, still at a distance, was a raised area. It appeared much like a stage. Jason gave a quiet snort of amusement. An island on an island, he thought to himself.
Within minutes, Jason had crossed the distance. The stage was set. The map of the island with the colored indicators of the dog packs was there. Computer monitors ran around the circumference of the dais, appearing to hang suspended from nothing. Only one individual moved among the equipment.
“Major. Report. What's your status? Report, damn it!” Bauer barked.
“Hate to be the one to tell you, but Major Doberman can't answer you.” Bauer stiffened at Jason's voice. “Neither can Captain Rottweiler. Or Private Chihuahua. They're all taking little doggie naps.”
Bauer turned slowly. “Jason Scott. Not what I expected after all this time.”
“What did you expect?” Jason asked, stepping up onto the stage. “Bauer?” He turned the name over in his mind. “Pawn. Question there is 'whose pawn'? Warmonger's? Madacar's? Or Darque's?” He ducked under one of the monitors. “Steven Bauer. Ulysses Madacar's right hand thug. It must have been an interesting journey getting there.”
“Oh, you have no idea. I'm surprised you didn't come in here flying your colors.”
Jason gave Bauer a measuring look as he walked slowly around the stage, avoiding any equipment. “I really don't do that much any more. I kinda retired for a while. So, you're somebody's pawn. Steven. Did you choose that name, or did someone force it on you?” He glanced at the map in passing. “No. I'm thinking you took that name for yourself. To remember.
“If you wanted your ass kicked again, Artie, all you had to do was call.”
Bauer launched himself through a table with a snarl, catching Jason by surprise. His foot slammed into Jason's chest, resounding like slapped leather. Jason spun through a control panel and a monitor. He fell heavily, face down, on the arena floor.
“That looked like it hurt, Jase,” Bauer said. “Didn't happen to break a rib, did I?”
He got himself to his knees and spit blood as he stood. He expected the monitor to be broken. Of course, Jason would have expected to have bounced off the control panel, too. “Not hardly. I see you've had some training.”
“A little kenpo. Some Muay Thai. Some savate. I never was able to find out what style and discipline you studied, though,” he replied.
“It's an eclectic style. You'd be hard pressed to find other practitioners. What's with the slayer in the hall?”
Bauer quickly punched in some commands on a keyboard. “He's my... secretary, I guess you could say. He keeps the dog soldiers from disturbing me when I'm in here working.”
Jason jumped lightly back to the stage. He waved his hand through a monitor. “Hologram. Wainwright's work?”
“Virtual reality. The dome was Wainwright's testing area. It's a mixture of technological wonders. He never did tell me where he got it from.” Bauer stepped back through the table. “It's fascinating, really. The man was truly a master of his craft.” He caught his foot under the table and kicked it at Jason.
Having seen Bauer walk through the table twice, Jason was caught off guard when it impacted. He reeled back and slammed his head against the monitor.
“It's a matter of tractor and pressor beams. I really don't understand it all. It's like one moment an object is an illusion, and the next, bam! It's real!”
“That's...” Jason shook his head to clear it, “surprising, Artie. Those are some pretty big words you're using.”
“'Sing, goddess, the wrath of Peleus' son Achilles, a destroying wrath which brought upon the Achaeans myriad woes, and sent forth to Hades many valiant souls of heroes1,'” Bauer quoted.
“I hope you aren't comparing yourself to Achilles. The Iliad? That's way above the Dick and Jane books you were reading as a senior. Or were you only looking at the pictures even then?” Jason blocked the coup de pied chasse that Bauer threw at him. “I'm more thinking of Hesiod. Did you ever read Works and Days, Artie?” He parried a low punch and backhanded Bauer across the stage. “'He harms himself who does harm to another, and the evil plan is most harmful to the planner.'2 Do you get that one, Artie?”
It was Bauer's turn to spit blood as he stood. “Yeah, Jase. I get it.” He massaged and worked his jaw.
“What's this all about, Artie?”
“What do you think it's all about, Jase?” Bauer spat.
“It wouldn't have anything to do with me busting your balls, would it?” Jason said in an off-handed manner.
“You took what was mine!” he snapped out.
Jason took a step back. “You want to explain that one, Artie? Because I'm really drawing a blank on that one. I never took anything that was yours.”
“Sandy Wilson.”
“What about her?” Jason asked. He and Bauer paced each other, warily watching one another.
“She was mine!” he ranted.
Jason looked at Bauer in a confused manner. “Artie, that is so many different kinds of messed up, it isn't even funny.” Bauer's foot came down from a high kick. Jason sidestepped, caught his opponent in the chest with an open palm and he shoved Bauer backwards. Off-balance, Bauer hit the floor hard and slid, coming to a stop near the edge of the dais. “Sandy has been dead for more than ten years! She wasn't yours. She didn't even like you. After you and your little cluster of punks tried to rape her, if it was at all within her to hate, that was how she felt about you!”
Picking himself up off the floor, Bauer grinned to himself. “Well, that could have gone better. What about you, Jase? Do you hate? 'Sweeter it is by far than the honeycomb dripping with sweetness, and spreads through the hearts of men.'3”
“Homer wasn't talking about hate. He was speaking of wrath.” Jason resumed his wary pacing. “Do I hate? Why don't you ask Warmonger?”
“He hated your father,” Bauer snarled out.
“His hatred murdered my father and destroyed him,” Jason said.
Bauer launched a flurry of blows at Jason. “You destroyed him! You murdered him!”
Jason was hard pressed to keep up. His head snapped to the side and he saw stars. Blood flew from his nose and mouth. Bauer's foot slammed into his chest again, sending him flying once more. This time he flipped over a console and landed like a rag doll.
Through bloodied teeth, Jason began to laugh. “His hatred killed him, Artie. I just happened to be the implement his fate chose.” He slowly rose to his feet.
“In the warrior's code
There's no surrender
Though his body says stop
His spirit cries – never!4” Bauer sang, off-key.
“Artie, shut up! You still can't sing.”
Bauer was bouncing now, in time to the song running through his mind, from one foot to the other, believing he had Jason's measure. The monitor, the consoles, the tables, even the stage itself, vanished. Bauer landed lightly on a mat in the middle of a dojo. Weapon racks appeared from the aether.
“Why are you doing this, Artie?” Jason barked.
His eyes alight, looking like a host infested with a Goa'uld or just with madness, Jason couldn't be sure. Bauer laughed. “Why? I've studied you! I know all about you! I know how strong you are. I know what your powers are. I know what you can do. I know how fast you can fly. I've studied everything!
“I'm the yin to your yang...”
“You're more like the starch in my underwear,” Jason interjected.
Bauer continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. “I'm your arch-enemy! I'm the Joker to your Batman! The Red Skull to your Captain America! Syndrome to your Mr. Incredible!”
“I can get behind that one,” Jason said.
Bauer stopped and cocked his head to the side. “You like it?”
“Yeah,” Jason smirked, “yeah, I do. Syndrome died.” Bauer glared at Jason and growled. “What's wrong, Artie? Never considered that outcome?” He stepped up to the mat. “How do you want to do this? Armed? Unarmed? Your choice.”
“I can take you,” Bauer answered.
“Money. Mouth,” Jason said. “You know how it goes. Put up or shut up.”
Bauer grinned again. “'Put up'? I think I can find something to 'put up', Jase.” He waved his hand, palm down, as if wiping something off a table. His fingers worked as if he were tapping on a keyboard. Like a giant billboard, part of the dome lit up. An image of Sparx, spreadeagled and apparently unconscious, covered a quarter of the wall. “As you can see, I have adequately 'put up'. And, just to make it more interesting,” his hand moved downward as if pushing a large button, “you're now on a timer. You can't see it yet, up there, but there is a machine, a 'death trap' if you'd like, that will slowly begin flaying her alive.”
Jason's chin dropped and he glared at Bauer. “Whatever you do to her, she'll heal. Not as fast as me, but she'll still heal.”
Bauer shook his head slowly, “Oh, I don't think so. You see, with you it was trial and error. Through Spears, I'm sure you know about Spears, and Black Jack, I was able to introduce into you something that Nova Research came up with. It was intended to,” he grinned, “slow the healing process.
“Leah, on the other hand, there wasn't a lot of need for trial and error. I had her for the better part of two years. I know how her powers work. Probably better than anyone else. The ring she's mounted on? It's kinda like a capacitor. You plug a power source in and it sucks it dry. Every ohm, every volt, every erg of power she's capable of generating is being pulled out of her as fast as her body creates it. The ability of her cells to store a charge has been effectively nullified.
“She will die. Slowly. Most painfully, I would imagine. But by the time it's all over, she will be quite dead.” He lifted a sword from a rack and tossed it to Jason's feet. He took another off the rack.
Jason ignored it. “Use a weapon offered by you? Created by this place? I don't think so. First time I ram it through your heart, only to find that it's smoke and mirrors? No thanks.” Crimson power flashed. White Tiger's katana rested easily in his hand. “Two men enter. One man leaves?”
“Thunderdome? Apt, I guess, Jase.”
“Or 'there can be only one'. Either way,” Jason brought the katana up into a ready position, “it doesn't really matter. You aren't getting out of this alive.”
“Planning on killing me? You're a Guardian...” Bauer said.
“I quit,” Jason said simply, as a matter of fact.
Bauer pressed on, “A hero.”
Jason shook his head. “Sorry, Artie. Left my union card in my other suit.”
“You come here, as an honored guest, and you threaten to kill me in my home. Why?”
Jason considered Bauer. “I'm really beginning to wonder how many of you are in there, Artie. You don't seem to be making coherent conversation.
“I am going to kill you for the simplest of reasons. Had you come at me head on, just you and me, it would be one thing. You insisted on carrying out a mindless vendetta, bringing other people into a personal grudge.” Jason pointed at the image of Sparx on the wall. “For that, Artie, I am going to kill you,
“Coming in here, Artie, I only hated you. Now, I'm pissed.”
Bauer snapped his own blade upright. There was a sharp, metallic sound of metal striking coming from Jason's blade. The sound was not as pure as if both blades had been metal. Bauer stepped forward, jabbing the point of his blade at Jason's eye.
Jason moved to the side and forced Bauer's blade down. His foot snapped out, catching Bauer low in the ribs. Bauer spun and coughed. “That looked like it hurt, Artie. I didn't happen to break a rib, did I?”
“Asshole,” was Bauer's response. He came upright rubbing his side. He crossed blades with Jason once again.
Bauer began his offensive. His blade moved swiftly and surely. His training obviously extended beyond what he had told Jason. Jason was beginning to believe that Bauer's skill with a blade was less than his own until Bauer reversed a thrust, slipped inside his guard and sliced into Jason's bicep. Blood flowed freely before it was arrested by his healing.
The sharp pain gave Jason pause. Bauer forced Jason's blade back in that moment. He slammed his knee into Jason's thigh and shoved. Jason's leg buckled. Instead of falling down, like Bauer expected, Jason rolled backwards with the shove. He came up from the roll on one knee. He held the katana in an overhead guard position.
When Bauer did not immediately press the attack, Jason stood. They slowly circled, each looking for an opening to attack. Bauer feinted and was met by the steel of White Tiger's blade. Jason drew the cutting edge along Bauer's sword. He half expected sparks to fly.
Bauer pulled back and feinted high. Jason raised the sword to block and Bauer spun low. His blade burned across the inside of Jason's leg. Jason stepped back, putting his wounded leg behind him.
The point of Bauer's sword dug into the mat. One foot snapped out catching Jason in his leading ankle, followed almost immediately by Bauer's other foot slamming into his hip. Jason fell hard off the mat and slid, coming to rest against one of the “dojo's” walls. There was the vague sensation of moisture on Jason's back.
Phantom steel whistled through the air and was stopped inches from making another cut by the real steel of a samurai's blade. Jason rolled and his shin impacted behind Bauer's knee. Staggered by the blow, Bauer threw his arms out to steady himself.
With the moment's respite, Jason used the knuckles of the hand holding the sword and the open palm of the other to throw himself to his feet. He unconsciously wiped sweat off the open hand before resuming a two-handed ready position.
Blade whistling, Bauer turned to face his opponent. Jason deftly blocked the blow. He stepped closer to Bauer and twisted, slamming his elbow into Bauer's bicep. His arm numbed from the blow, he set a snap kick into Jason's lower back. Bauer pivoted. The sword in his hand moved to intercept Jason, stumbling from the kick.
Jason brought his own blade up in a rough guard position. The impact drove it back hard, leaving a red mark creasing his brow. Following up the wild blow, Bauer snapped a low kick at Jason's knee. He lifted his foot and took the kick on his shin. He stepped back; giving ground and quickly shaking his head.
Instead of pressing the attack, Bauer flexed his arm. “They make it look so easy in the movies.” He shook his hand loosely, trying to get the feeling back.
Shrugging his shoulders and setting himself once more, Jason prepared for the next round. Bauer danced lightly from foot to foot, shuffling his feet. The blade in his hand feinted. In response Jason barely twitched his sword in defense before Bauer pulled back.
Bauer's empty hand snapped out as if he were throwing something. A burning sensation set in high in Jason's shoulder. He glanced down at it, catching the ghostly form of a shuriken embedded there. His eyes snapped back to Bauer. His hand lifted to his wounded shoulder to find the throwing star gone. “Not playing fair, Artie. Then again, playing fair was never your style.”
The katana fairly sang when Jason moved in. Bauer took his blade back into both hands for his defense. Each slashing cut was deftly parried, steel meeting facsimile. Bauer forced Jason's blade away. Using his momentum, his foot came up in a high kick and caught Jason in the side of the face. Continuing his spin, his blade came around and drove through Jason's exposed back.
Forcing himself erect, Jason stood and fought the sword lodged within him. He turned towards Bauer and the blade slide out between his ribs. Air escaped from his ruptured lung through the cut in his side. Bauer looked wonderingly at him.
Grabbing hold of Bauer's arm, Jason drove the ancient steel of the tiger pommeled katana through his foe's body. Pain reflected on Bauer's face, with a scream he couldn't release. Bauer's eyes were closed tightly in agony.
Jason felt the katana shift. Bauer pulled away. The blade that had extended through Bauer fell to the ground glowing red. The handle dripped molten steel in Jason's hand. The wound in Bauer's chest bled steel and smoke.
Bauer opened his eyes. Looking into them was like looking into a blast furnace. Bauer grinned malevolently. “Oops.” His skin blackened and cracked. His clothes turned to ash. “I am stronger than you. I am faster than you. And I am better than you.”
Holding tight to his wounded side, Jason backed off. “You're also the second asshole it two days to make that assumption,” he said through gritted teeth. “I underestimated you and I played your game when I should have just ended this.” He dropped the useless piece of ivory.
Flame and smoke roiled thickly off Bauer's arm like a flamethrower. Where it struck the floor it stuck and burned.
Jason threw himself away from Bauer's blast, sliding across the floor. He rolled so as to be facing his opponent and lifted his arm. A crimson beam of force erupted from his palm. Bauer dodged the blast. The wall of the dojo flared when the beam forced its way through.
Bauer spared the virtual wall a glance as it faded away. He turned back in time to see Jason rising to his feet. A violet glow started beneath Jason's silk shirt. It grew brighter. Where it touched his clothes they changed. The violet light increased, enveloping Jason's form. When it was finished the light receded back to the charm hanging from the leather thong around his neck.
“Neat trick,” Bauer quipped. He tossed another flaming glob at Pulsar.
Feeling a quick jolt of surprise when he saw the orange gloves on his hands, Pulsar dodged the attack. He launched himself at the blackened form. “Not one of mine.” Bauer faded from view when another virtual wall appeared between them. He pulled himself up and slammed into the wall hands and feet. He recoiled off the wall, bounced once off the floor and stood ready. His eyes shifted, looking for any indication of his opponent. Once again he felt the sensation of moisture on his back and down his leg where he had hit the floor.
His mind went back over his adventures of the last two days. He noted his mistakes and realized what he should have done, instead of what he had done. Twenty-twenty hindsight and all that. Even the short engagement thus far with Bauer he had made mistakes. The truth of the situation was simply that Pulsar was nearly a year out of practice. Katas keep the movements and the physical memory, but without someone to spar with his timing was off. Exercising alone didn't impart the immediate urgency that facing someone that wanted to kill him did.
The dog soldiers were simple. One on one he simply outclassed them physically. A few at a time were a minor threat to him. More, well, a man can die if he's stung by enough bees.
Stacy's arm shouldn't have been broken. He fixed that, but still, he had misjudged their fall. It should have been a simple catch-and-flight. Guilt. He shoved that away. Don't have time for that right now. Maybe later.
He had misjudged Bauer from the beginning. He owed Leah an apology. Bauer obviously wasn't normal any longer.
How had Bauer gotten hold of Leah? She had been with the team. Of course the team should all still be on the transport and heading back to New York. He misjudged them. Somehow they had managed to bypass his programming. Trese. Had to be. Dani helped, but Trese found a hole.
His mind flashed back to the three m1025 scout vehicles. Bolt. Somehow Bolt was central to Leah's capture, Pulsar thought. Both their powers were electrical in nature, but Leah could fly. Bolt was a ground pounder. He could run fast. Not as fast as Lightning and he needed metal to skim across for speed. Three vehicles. Three packs. Bolt had help. It was the only thing that made sense to him.
“You aren't giving up already, are ya, Jason?” Bauer called out.
Pulsar tried to focus on where the voice was coming from. “Just reassessing, Artie. I'll be with you in a moment.” Enough. Time for here and now. I'll just have to step up my game.
He looked up. There wasn't a ceiling over him, but he didn't trust Bauer. Power flowed like a lance upward. He flew in its wake.
Twin gouts of smoky flame sought him out. Both coming from a single source. Bauer. Pulsar twisted, spun and dove, executing maneuvers like an aerialist. There was no trapeze for him to grab. There was no net to catch him if he fell.
A burst of flame across his path caused him to shift his flight. He felt heat close behind. He fired blindly following the trajectories back to their origin. The flames ceased immediately. He turned to face where Bauer had been. Again, his foe was gone.
“I thought you wanted this, Artie!”
Muffled, his answer came back. “Oh, I do, Jase. But my plan isn't to get myself killed. It's to kill you!”
Virtual reality. None of this is real. Just a figment of Bauer's digital imagination. Pulsar heard the roar of the flames and rolled. Heat seared him as it passed through where he had just been. He coughed. He found it hard to catch his breath. He tasted blood. Flames licked at his boots. Higher, he thought to himself.
Pulsar fell.
He slid across a city street and came to rest in the gutter. Water, dirt and other waste trickled past, disappearing into a sewer grate. He spit blood, remembering too late his full mask. The water flowing past his face was turning red.
He levered himself up painfully to his knees. Bauer walked out of a door a block down the street. The flashing neon sign read “Joe's”. Breathing was hard. His side hurt. The inside of his arm was covered in blood.
His hand was shaking when he moved it up his side. His fingers sought the source of the blood. Pain lanced through him when he found the deep open gash between his ribs. Part of his mind, disconnected from the pain, noticed that Bauer's footprints were burning as he walked.
“Almost over, Jase. Been a merry chase and I honestly can say I didn't expect it to end with you on your knees in the gutter, but it's really very apt, if I do say so. And you know? I do say so.” Bauer lifted his hand. A gesture Pulsar was familiar with. He'd done it so many times himself. Lift. Point. Release, and the power flowed.
His vision shifted. The city street faded out like a ghost. Virtual, he giggled. He was slipping into shock. Points of light came sharply into focus while other things grayed out. Even Bauer he was seeing differently. Heat coursed through his body. Something other was spraying in a fine mist from the floor. It reminded him of the mansion's sprinkler system. He realized the dome wasn't as high as he thought.
Pain lanced through Jason's head. Pain that wasn't his. From a distance he heard Leah scream. His chest hurt. All of it. Like someone turned a sandblaster on him.
“Hear that, Jase? We're heading into the endgame,” Bauer said. “She was sweet. She was a lot of fun, all the different things she was willing to do for me, but in the end, she was just a means to strike at you.”
“...something that Nova Research came up with. It was intended to slow the healing process.” Pulsar heard Bauer, but the remembered line came through clearer. His mind cleared with the pain that was not his. It had to be Leah he felt, but that made no sense to him. He fought the pain in his side. He fought gravity, inch by inch, getting to his feet.
He noticed blood ran all the way to the top of his orange boot as he brought himself erect. Not yellow any more, Sandy. All blood.
“Going to die on your feet, Jase?” Bauer asked.
He wobbled, but stood. “Don't plan on dying, Ar... Artie. Least... not this minute,” he rasped out. Blood was thick in his mouth. His mask. He had to take his mask off, but he couldn't remember how.
Leah's screams of agony continued.
Bauer pointed his fist at Pulsar. “Time to end you, I think.”
A sticky flaming mass shot out and struck Pulsar in the forearm. It spattered. Part sailed past him. Part splattered across half his face and burned. Power erupted from his arm like a shield, stopping the flow. His mask burned through. Blood burned. His eye ruptured.
With too much pain to deal with he stopped feeling. He still stood. He was still aware. Through his remaining eye he saw the bloody glove. He saw his power splaying off his arm, keeping Bauer's napalm away from him.
He saw a water pipe closer than he thought it should be.
Bauer stopped and lowered his arm. “You aren't supposed to be able to do that.”
Pulsar's power shifted. The flaming mass sloughed off his face to sputter at his feet. “Says the burning shit-pile.” His voice was calmer, surer than he expected given the circumstances. Behind the mask his eye tracked the water pipe until he saw what he was searching for.
He shut off the shield and threw out his hand. Power lanced forth, severing a sprinkler head from the pipe. Water gushed forth from the hole and began spraying from other sprinkler heads.
The water from above forced whatever was spraying from below lower. Bauer steamed where water hit him. The steam obscured his vision. Not so for Pulsar. The heat of Bauer's body stood out like a flare to him. Something popped from behind him. He dare not take his eye off Bauer.
“Endgame, Artie,” he said quietly. Crimson energy lanced out one last time. It struck Bauer in the chest and sent him flying. Bauer's body hit like a bursting melon amid the water. Steam continued to rise from where he lay.
Pulsar watched him for some moments. When he realized that Bauer was not, and hopefully would not be moving, he turned. His leg failed him and he fell heavily on his wounded side.
Up. Need to get up. He managed to turn himself and caught a glimpse of smoke. The smoke was coming from a machine. Beyond it was Bauer's ring and Leah. Got to get over there.
He lay there feebly trying to make headway towards Leah.
He coughed. Blood spattered into the water. Fly dammit! And he did.
It was slow and erratic, but he was flying. He caromed off the cannon Bauer had used on Leah, knocking it over. He came to rest at the base of the ring.
Cables wrapped around portions of it, like an electromagnet. More cables, or the ends of those around the ring, ran to restraints around wrists and ankles. Leah sobbed quietly. Her costume was a bloody, ruined mess. Her glove and boots were gone.
Part of his mind followed that thought while he tried to breathe. Contact. Ensure contact. Got to get mask off. Drifting. Focus! He managed to force himself onto his back.
“L...eah,” he managed to get out.
Her head bobbed. When she looked he noticed that her eyes were glazed. Pain and shock. Her body was shaking. “Jason?” she responded quietly. “It hurts so much.”
“I know. Gonna,” he coughed hard. “Oh, that hurts. Need to get you down.” He lifted his hand. In his mind he held his hand out strong, pointing at the cable holding one leg. In reality his hand wavered and when he released his power the blast passed between her thighs close to one leg.
Throwing caution to the wind, using both hands, he cut loose with four blasts. The first two severed the cables at her ankles. The third went wide. The fourth burned high, blowing through the upper part of the capacitor ring. He groaned and laid his head back dejectedly, preparing to rally his strength one more time.
He grunted with pain and surprise when Leah fell atop him. She whimpered with pain, her raw chest laying against Pulsar's.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered to him. “I never meant...”
He put his arm around her as best as he was able, given both of their conditions. He turned the ruin of his face away from her. “Is... it's alr... k.”
She lifted her head to look at him. “You aren't healing.”
“Gonna... take a litt... l'il time, s'all.” He tried to put a smile in his voice.
She laid her head on his chest, like she used to do so often, so long ago. “I'm cold. I'm not healing.” Fear crept into her voice, alongside of the pain. “Am I going to die?”
On her back, his hand began to glow. “No,” he answered quietly. “Not today.”
In his mind, the door that closed off the place that was Leah's slammed open.
1 Homer The Iliad bk I L.1
2Hesiod Works and Days L.265
3Homer The Iliad bk XVIII L.109
4Survivor Burning Heart 1985