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part #38 of Out of the Box Series Series
The flames ran in reverse, crawling down the sides of the tower. Shattered glass that lay sprinkled in the snow and ash on the street flew up, dazzling in the faint sunlight and reconstituted into windows all those floors above.
“Go on,” I said, motioning to Oberheuser. The last of the flames were sucked back into the glass, and the sky was impenetrably dark above, day having crawled back to night. “You take the elevator up.” I looked up the reflective glass. “I'm flying.”
Oberheuser looked at me funny. “Should I not wait until he is done?”
“Only if you want to deal with the crowds in the lobby and all the security guards when time resumes,” I said, beckoning him to follow as the first hints of night were starting to fade in exchange for the last light of yesterday. He nodded, and went inside as the lights in the lobby began to flicker back on, the city beginning to show the first signs of a return to life as time continued to crawl backwards.
He was only gone a few seconds when I felt the pain that had been aching through my whole body seemed to fade, and I stood up a little straighter. I shook out my broken hand; it still hurt, but not as bad.
There you are, Brianna's voice echoed in my head. You sure you want to do this?
“What alternative do I have?” I muttered under my breath, where I knew Akiyama couldn't hear it.
Leave. Flee. There was a pause. Just kidding. Let's go kill these chicks and then embark on our new life in exile.
“I've done it before,” I said, already weary at the thought of what was to come. “It'll be...”
But I couldn't even bring myself to try and say anything positive, because it would be a dirty lie.
Instead I rose into the air, up the side of the IDS tower, heading for the roof.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty
Amanda Wampler
IDS Center
December 22nd
2:12 P.M.
“Ah – ah – ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” Amanda Wampler screamed in the small security office of the IDS tower, running her hands over herself as the strangest feeling of her skin being scorched seemed to vanish like a phantom in the night.
She was sitting in her chair in the tower security office, clamping onto herself beneath that security uniform. She could have sworn–
“It was so real,” she whispered, watching the monitors. But it hadn't been real, had it?
Had it?
“Twice,” she whispered, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could almost feel the residual burn on her skin from whatever...whatever the hell she was remembering, picturing, imagining. Like a nightmare she couldn't wake from.
Her eyes locked onto one of the security monitors on the building's Marquette Ave. entrance, and she saw a woman standing there, so familiar, and then–
Amanda blinked.
Was that...?
Sienna Nealon. She was pretty sure that was Sienna Nealon.
Was that what this awful feeling was from?
That sick, stomach-churning sensation of death, of clammy flesh, of burnt skin and something gone awfully wrong?
“That's her,” Amanda whispered, reaching for the phone. “She did this.” She dialed 911 with haste, and when it was answered on the second ring she could hear the chaos in the background of the call center, but started speaking over it anyway, because she had to get this out. “Hello, yes, I'm at the IDS tower in downtown Minneapolis, and Sienna Nealon is here.” She looked back at the screen. “I think she's about to do something terrible.”
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One
Ariadne
“Hey, did you hear?” Helen McHale knocked on the frame of Ariadne's door. In spite of the traffic, the people fleeing, the outrageous things going on downtown, she'd stayed at her desk all day, chugging away at her pile of things to do.
And it was definitely not at all rooted in the fact that she didn't want to think about the trouble Sienna had gotten herself in. Not at all.
“Hear what?” Ariadne asked, putting on a weak smile.
“Sienna Nealon just flew past the window in the bullpen,” Helen said, smirking.
Ariadne stared at her blankly. “Like...going past to get to the zoo again?”
“No, straight up,” Helen said, clearly excited by this new piece of choice gossip. “Like she was heading for the roof.”
Ariadne stood, pushing her chair back. That sickening feeling that had been with her, that sense of death hanging around just outside her reach, felt so much more prevalent and grim now than it had moments before.
Sienna was here?
Now?
“I have to go,” Ariadne said, grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair and heading for the elevators.
“Go?” Helen called after her. “Go where? Ugh.” She grabbed her stomach. “Ohhh, I feel sick all the sudden...”
Ariadne ignored her. If Sienna was heading straight up, maybe she was coming here, to the roof.
Maybe to talk to Ariadne.
She had to know. Putting aside that clawing feeling in the pit of her stomach, she stepped into the elevator when it dinged and hit the button for the fifty-first floor, and let it carry her up.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two
Scout
Scout had a secret tucked behind her as she slipped back up to Drusilla, a little something she'd picked up last time she was out. It was heavy in her waistband, a dart gun she'd gotten when she'd burned a police officer to death outside the airport.
A little something she had a feeling she'd need, one way or the other.
“Why are we still here?” Drusilla asked, slumped against the side of the rooftop garage that held the staircase and the window washing equipment. She rubbed her stump of a shoulder. “It's so cold.”
“We have to wait until nightfall to escape,” Scout said, keeping her glee under wraps. She'd been counting the minutes, and they had to be close now. Drusilla's last shot had been at around seven o'clock that morning. It was over six hours since it had worn off, and not a hint of radiation had leaked out of her, at least that Scout had seen.
And she'd been watching. And waiting.
“I want to get out of here,” Drusilla said. “I don't feel right. Like something is...something is wrong, so wrong.”
Scout didn't feel bad at all. She felt exhilarated, actually, like she was close to getting what she wanted. The dream of Minneapolis turned to a wasteland, the blight of human life wiped out in its bounds?
Sounded like a damned good start to her. It made her head buzz with joy at the possibilities.
“It'll be all right,” Scout said, not putting much soothing into it. Meta powers worked better when you were agitated, and by that measure, getting Drusilla riled up was a good move. “You're probably just worrying that Sienna Nealon is coming for you. It's natural.” She hid the smirk she felt. “Because she is.”
Drusilla's breath came out in a hard gasp. “Why would you say that?” She turned her face away from Scout. “I can't get – I don't want to be all stressed out–”
“But it's true,” Scout said with a shrug, clasping a hand on her wrist. Maybe a memory or two stolen would wind her up even more, get the ball rolling. “We shouldn't deny it. Sienna Nealon wants to kill you – well, to kill us–”
“Truer words were never spoken,” came a voice echoing over the rooftop.
Scout turned, and with a clang, a figure landed on the air conditioning unit on the far edge of the building. Looking down at them, past the antenna equipment...
...Was Sienna Nealon.
“Oh, no,” Drusilla whispered.
“Oh, yes,” Scout said, unable to hide her grin, her hand on the dart gun behind her back, the moment she'd been waiting for now at hand.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Three
Sienna
It took me a grand total of three seconds after floating over the edge of the IDS tower and opening my big, stupid mouth before I had buyer's remorse on that idea. Why hadn't I told Akiyama to freeze time so I could just kill Drusilla and Scout while they were motionless? It wasn't like I hadn't already done that more times than I could count today. Sure, it wasn't very sporting, but the Marquess of Queensberry rules shouldn't apply when the life of cities was in play.
But I'd already said something (stupid), and I had a gun in my hand, wrath to spare, and a metahuman leech on his way up to help. Or possibly betray me.
Yep. Some real regrets as I set down on the rooftop, staring at Drusilla and Scout. Maybe a case of nerves, too.
“I can smell your blood,” Scout said with a wolfish grin. She'd interposed her body between me and Drusilla, who lay against the side of the square structure that stood above the rest of the roof. “Had a rough day, Sienna?”
“Not as bad as the one you're about to have, Scout,” I said, clutching the Glock tightly in my weak hand and imagining myself putting the sight picture right in the center of her chest and pulling the trigger.
“Why won't you just leave me alone?” Drusilla cried, lifting her head up. She sounded strange, vacant almost, and I knew in that instant that Scout had been draining her, manipulating her.
“You escaped from prison this morning, Drusilla,” I said, trying to keep my voice low, even, but with a hint of compassion now that I knew what was up. “Scout's a succubus, and she's draining you to steal your powers.” Scout flashed a grin at me, unashamed. “I'm guessing there are some gaps in your memory.”
“I don't...what?” Drusilla blinked. “No...”
“I thought you seemed a little different than the last time we talked,” I said. “Back then you knew you'd killed people, and that you needed to be imprisoned. The Drusilla I left would not have broken out of prison on her own.”
“She's not the Drusilla you left,” Scout said. “Just like I'm not the Scout you first met in South Dakota. I'm stronger now, and so is she.” She waved a hand around, letting it drift near her hip. I half expected to see her go blue, channeling that damned plasma she had, at which point I'd need to fire, because the moment she covered her skin over in it, my ability to drill her with a bullet would be over. It'd melt before reaching her.
“You have no idea how little I care about your villainous development,” I said, shaking my head. “You were a piece of shit when last I saw you, Scout, and you're going to be a piece of shit until the day you die.” And I lifted my gun, lining the sights up right over her heart. “Which is today, by the way.”
I fired as she reached behind her, hand disappearing into her waistband and emerging with something. I heard a pop beneath the thunder of my gun going off, and I readied myself, putting the sight back on target, ready to fire again–
When I felt a sting in my right arm.
Looking down, I saw colored fletchings and a long black body the length of two cigarettes.
Man, I could really use a cigarette.
“Ohhhhhhhhh,” Scout groaned, blood trickling down her chest. She held a hand just beneath her breastbone, where I'd drilled her with a 9mm round. She looked right at me, pained, and said, “I think you shot me in the heart.”
Her skin began to glow, clothing evaporating under the blue plasma, and I fired and fired again, hoping to land another round before she could complete the transformation.
No good. She was completely covered from head to toe and floating inches above the rooftop, her body sealed in an impenetrable shield of hot plasma.
My gun hand wavered, and the weight of the Glock became greater even as the aches and pains and surging sting of my shoulder, my side, and my broken hand began to lance with pain.
I'd just been depowered in a fight with the second most dangerous meta on the planet.
Well...actually, number one now...because I had none of my own to fight with.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Four
Hampton
Jeremy Hampton couldn't shake that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that something terrible was about to happen, even as the SWAT bearcat ground to a stop in front of the immense glass-and-steel IDS tower in downtown.
“Ever been here before?” Miller asked as they popped out into the cold, wintery street. The winds here weren't as bad as Chicago, where Hampton lived. There the damned wind coming off the lake would cut you to pieces. Cold, icy pieces.
Kinda like Sienna in that respect. Which...
“Came down here on dates when I was living here,” Hampton said, shouldering his weapon and looking up, up at the commanding heights of the building. Was she up there?
A gunshot.
Well, if that wasn't confirmation...
“She's trying to save you all.” A weak voice came from behind him, causing Hampton to pivot in the middle of the street, Miller next to him raising his own weapon.
An Asian man lay sprawled on the sidewalk, dressed slightly more dapper than your average homeless person. He shivered in the cold, and a deep-seated exhaustion presented itself in the lines on his face.
Was there a threat there? Hampton didn't think so. His hands were exposed, no weapons in them, no hint of glowing fire or lasers or burning plasma.
“This guy on our list?” Miller asked, not lowering his weapon.
“Don't remember seeing his face on the escapee mug shot collection,” Hampton said, keeping his gun barrel down but his finger near the trigger. “What are you talking about, man?” That grinding discomfort in his stomach, that precognition that something bad was afoot, it just wouldn't go away. “Sienna Nealon's dangerous. Just stay out of this, okay?” He waited for a reaction.
There was none. The man just sat there, staring at him, seemingly a thousand miles away in his thoughts.
“All right,” Hampton said, keeping one eye on him as the thumping of chopper blades sounded overhead. “Here comes recon. Let's gear up and wait for their report. The second we get confirmation, we'll head up and...” he looked at the Asian man, and could tell he was being listened to, and carefully. “...deal with the problem.”
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Five
Sienna
Smoke poured out of the center of Scout's chest as her blood spurted out only to be instantly vaporized by the blue plasma covering every square inch of her body. She was on her knees, not a bare spot on her I could shoot that would finish this thing. The dart gun that had been in her hand a few seconds earlier was black slag melting into the rooftop.
There was no sign of Oberheuser as Scout pushed unsteadily to her feet. She drifted a foot above it a second later, floating in the air.
“Don't let her get me, Scout,” Drusilla whimpered. She pushed herself against the side of the building, as though inches more distance between us would protect her.
I shut my eyes and shook my head as the sound of a chopper that had started in the distance began to draw desperately close, popping up over the edge of the tower, partially obscured by the antenna in the middle of the rooftop.
“Sienna Nealon!” a loudspeaker blared from beneath it. The MPD logo was etched across the side. “Throw down your weapon and surrender!”
“Or what?” Scout asked, wavering a little on her feet, malicious grin creasing her lips. “What do you think they're going to do to you if you disobey?”
“Guess I'll find out,” I said, not lowering my weapon and expecting a shot in the back at any second from the chopper. I kept my gun pointed squarely at Scout, hoping for an opening.
“Nah,” Scout said, chest still steaming. She raised her hand, a glowing ball in her palm, and she flung it like a fastball, so quick my human eye almost couldn't follow.
“No!” I shouted, spinning to look as the ball of plasma hit directly at the spinning rotor.
It struck just below the whirling blades, and the effect was immediate. The rotor lifted off, spinning up into the air as the helicopter itself went the opposite direction–
Disappearing beneath the lip of the tower, trailing fire as it went crashing to its doom.
And there wasn't a damned thing I could do to stop it.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Six
Hampton
The police helicopter came down in a flaming wreck, crashing at the intersection of Nicollet Mall and 8th Street, sending pedestrians and local traffic screaming out of the way before it landed and exploded, a cloud of fire and debris pluming across the area.
“We have a police helo down!” Hampton shouted into his mic, which was tied into the local police frequency. “Repeat, police helo down.” He looked up to the summit of the IDS tower, some fifty floors above. “Looks like Sienna Nealon shot it out of the sky.”
“She doesn't have plasma bursts,” the older Asian man said, surprisingly forcefully given how laconically he was splayed out against the side of the building. “Surely you know this.”
“I don't know what she's got anymore, pal,” Hampton said, one hand on his gun and the other on his mic, turning his attention back to the top of the building. “All I knew is we gotta get up there and stop her. Let's move o–”
He felt something move behind him and Hampton turned. The Asian man was on his feet, and there was a look on his face that sent a shiver through Hampton's very bones.
The older man shook his head very slowly. “You do not see.”
And then...he was gone.
“But I will make you see.” The voice came from seemingly everywhere and nowhere, all at once.
Hampton kept his gun at his shoulder. “Does anyone have eyes on a middle-aged Asian man in a rumpled suit...?”
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Seven
