Chapter 6

FIRST SPARK OF WILL

Annie had been hauling ass for the nearest exit when she heard fighting in one of the rooms she passed. Sliding to a stop, she turned to investigate.

Two corporate bullies were beating on a wounded patient. Despite his obviously medicated state, and the fact that the attack must have been going on for some time, the poor bastard was holding on.

I am a goddamn superhero, she told herself, planting her feet shoulder-width apart, hands on hips.

“Hey!”

Her voice boomed across the room. She was pleased to see she had everyone’s attention.

She stared the biggest thug down.

“Pick on someone your own size,” she declared, delivering her catchphrase with gravitas.

The battered, probably mentally unwell patient laughed. Then began cackling to himself. The thug sputtered some nonsense.

Annie felt a flicker of concern. He really is a big one. She shoved it aside.

Superheroes don’t hesitate!

She charged, heart pounding with the righteous certainty of every comic book hero she’d ever loved.

The big tech barely had time to blink before she leapt onto his back. Her arm locked around his throat, her legs around his waist.

He cursed, staggered upright, the wounded man forgotten. His hands flailed behind his head, trying to pry the little goblin loose.

Below, Alexander felt another unhinged laugh bubble up. He pressed a trembling, bloody hand over his mouth, but the sound escaped anyway: half-hysterical giggling that sounded alien even to him.

The big tech lurched around, smashing into overturned trays, a scorched countertop, and into the edge of the cremation chamber itself. Each impact sent spikes of pain across Annie’s body, but she refused to let go. I am a goddamn superhero, she reminded herself, squeezing harder.

The second technician finally untangled himself from the pile of equipment. Pale with fury, he grabbed a folding chair and stalked toward Alexander.

Alexander tried to rise. He didn’t make it even halfway before the chair crashed down across his shoulders. His vision went white as he dropped, chin cracking against the floor. The giggling stopped.

This is it. I’m going to die in a room full of idiots.

Even collapsed on the cold tile, part of his mind catalogued everything. The woman’s hold was slipping. The big tech had her wrist, prying it away inch by inch. He was just too big. Too strong.

Alexander spat blood as the chair came down again. He tried to crawl, but his arms were too weak.

Annie’s panic rose. The collar bit into her neck, the suppression field smothering her powers. She twisted, but the big guy slammed her into the side of the cremation chamber. Stars burst behind her eyes. Her grip tore loose.

With a heave, he slammed her onto the ground. Breath blasted from her lungs. Before she could roll away, his knee drove into her stomach, one massive hand closing on her throat.

No—no no no—

She jammed a metal hand between his grip and her neck, choking and blinking through tears, hammering his head with the other. Solid metallic smacks against flesh and bone.

He barely flinched, bloodshot eyes unfocused, teeth bared in a snarl.

Across the room, Alexander forced himself to look past his own attacker and the chair about to finish him. He locked onto the woman’s gleaming metal hands, and the collar around her throat.

If she had her powers…

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The second tech raised the chair.

Alexander reached with his Technopathy, ignoring pain and exhausting, and felt the familiar technology whisper back. He pushed past its defenses, disarmed its failsafe, and commanded:

“Disable,” he slurred.

Annie didn’t notice at first. She was too busy punching, gasping, and struggling as her oxygen-starved brain began shutting down.

Then—

Her next punch transformed, metal reforming without thought. A blunt fist became a spoon.

It was the first shape she’d learned to form, back when she first received her power. Her parents had been proud. She hadn’t. She’d been trying for a sword.

The spoon jammed into the side of the technician’s neck.

He froze. His grip loosened. Blood gushed bright and fast from the wound.

Annie’s breath came in ragged sobs. She tried to pull the spoon-hand back, but it was stuck in cartilage and muscle. The big man gurgled, struggling to understand. Then he toppled sideways.

The other tech screamed and lunged past Alexander, chair raised high.

Alexander’s vision flickered. He couldn’t see straight. Couldn’t feel his body. But he could feel the medical arm bolted to the ceiling. An automated tool for administering drugs, probably the one responsible for killing his other self.

He reached for it.

The last thing he saw before darkness closed in was the arm swinging out in a single, brutal strike.

The chair never reached Annie.

The technician’s skull split open with a hollow crack. He flew sideways into a wall, slid to the ground, and was still.

Then there was silence.

Pain, Alexander decided, was probably good for the soul.

At least, that was what philosophers who’d never been in real agony liked to say.

Suffering builds character. Adversity reveals the true self.

He would have traded every ounce of newfound wisdom for a few minutes without it. His mind catalogued the injuries: contusions from the earthquake; shoulder dislocation and relocation; torn, bleeding hands from the cell door; shin bone; ankle sprain; beaten by a tablet, a canister, someone’s arms, a chair. He considered adding injustice to the list. Then decided against it.

For now.

He drifted between blessed oblivion and cursed consciousness. Someone was dragging him, his chin resting on a warm shoulder. He was content to nap.

“—and that’s Fortress. I mean, Skybreaker now,” a voice babbled in his ear. “Black armor and red cape, used to be a hero. Wonder what happened to him. The one fighting him is Star Titan. He does the plasma stuff, but he’s not breaking the shields fast enough because he’s too busy protecting the others, and—”

He tried to blink. His eyelids felt glued shut.

The voice continued without pause.

“—and that’s Victoria Cross with the diamond skin. Only reason she hasn’t been crushed yet, but oh my god you should see it!”

He lifted his head and opened his eyes.

It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

The sky spread wide, painted in blue, gold, and white.

And across it, titans danced a lovingly choreographed waltz.

Figures hurtled through the air, trailing flame and plasma. Bolts of energy screamed across the clouds. Wind whipped past, sonic booms marking the rhythm as colossi clashed.

Something bloomed hot in his chest. Not pain.

No… it was desire. He wanted to be up there. To be part of the dance. Wielding power beyond imagination, enough to challenge even the gods.

He frowned. That was his dead counterpart’s desire, not his.

Wasn’t it?

“—and that’s Obsidian Crow,” Annie continued breathlessly. “She’s the one with the black wings. Total badass. She can nullify momentum and drop you with a thought, though she usually only works solo, so it’s weird that she’s here.”

He let his head droop again. Even the sky was too much right now.

Still, his mind refused to idle. His rescuer had apparently chosen a direction at random, carrying him toward the parking lot’s far edge. Away from the rest of the fighting, but still not safe.

He tried to stand by himself. His ankle protested, spikes of agony running up his body, and he slumped back down. Without missing a beat, she shifted to keep him draped over her shoulder.

“—and maybe that’s why Skybreaker turned villain. Total PR coverup, because he saved like three hundred people in—oh!” She turned her head slightly, cheek brushing his temple. “Hey. You’re awake.”

He made a sound, half grunt, half exhausted laugh. He tried to stand again and barely managed it. She adjusted her grip, offering her shoulder in support.

It was awkward, leaning on someone a head shorter. Yet somehow they managed.

As they limped across the cracked pavement, he finally opened his eyes fully. Ahead, rows of hovercars waited, some dented but mostly intact this far from the fighting.

He felt a flicker of hope.

“I can get us one,” he rasped. “Just need a moment.”

Annie’s eyes widened. “You can hotwire a hovercar? That is so freaking cool!”

He didn’t correct her. He leaned more of his weight on her, closed his eyes, and reached out with the part of his mind that could make machines obey.

As Annie half carried, half dragged him to the nearest one, the hovercar’s side door swished open with a pleasant jingle.

Annie shoved him head-first into the backseat.

“I know how to drive!”

Spoiler alert: she did not.