Corpies (Super Powereds Spinoff Book 1) (51 page)

Only four teams were left, Wild Bucks being one of them, but Owen would not be around to see the results. He had his eyes trained on the field when he heard a familiar voice tickle his right ear. He betrayed nothing as it spoke, though his eyes turned across the field to Deadlift, who met his gaze. Owen gave a slight, nearly imperceptible shake of his head, and then turned to face his team.

“I have to head out for a bit. There’s a situation, I’m tough, you all know the drill.” He kept his tone neutral, almost bored, as if he’d forgotten to pick up milk and was now saddled with making a trip to the store.

“The duty of a Hero is never done,” Galvanize said, giving Owen a knowing smile. “We’ll be sure to make apologies for you in any post-event interviews.”

“Ten bucks says he’s faking it just to ditch the press,” Hexcellent ventured.

Owen said nothing, merely rose from his spot on the bench with his team and jogged off the field. Only when he was safely below the stadium did he speak, and this time it wasn’t to anyone nearby. At least, not so far as he was aware.

“Dispatch, this is Titan. I’m clear from being overheard. Deadlift and his team are staying at the tug-of-war to keep from panicking the crowd. What’s the situation?”

“Three companies of robots, all approaching the city from different directions,” Dispatch said, somehow still calm despite the news she was relaying. “One seems to be en route to Brewster’s downtown, one is moving north with destination unknown, and the third. . .” Her voice, always careful and detached, wavered for the barest of moments. “The third is on track to arrive at the charity event within fifteen minutes.”

“Sweet Jesus, we’ve got a couple thousand people here,” Owen muttered, turning back to look at his team. “Give me their coordinates, I’ll intercept that one.”

“Negative, those are not your orders,” Dispatch replied. “You are to group up with Jeremiah, Gale, and Aether to meet the robots heading for downtown. Modus Operandi has begun efforts to track the central signal that controls the robots; getting closer to them will expedite the process. Once the target is located, your team is to move immediately to take out the controller.”

“I’m not leaving my team or these civilians unprotected.” Owen stood in the bottom floor of the stadium, listening to all of the people moving around above him. There were more outside, a thousand or so individuals with no idea what danger was marching toward them.

“Nor would anyone ask you to,” Dispatch told him. “We’ve got three other Hero teams already heading to your location, plus Wild Bucks will be on defensive duty after Deadlift leaves to join up with your group. They will easily be in place long before the robots arrive, and I should add that many are better suited to protection and handling multiple enemies than you are.” She wasn’t quite snippy—Dispatch never veered that far off course—but it was clear from her tone that she didn’t appreciate being questioned.

“That’s. . . fine. I mean, good. Sorry, Dispatch. I’m just worried. Can I at least tell my team to evacuate?”

“You need to be moving, Titan. Your team is safer there, under the protection of trained Heroes, than they would be navigating the streets. All other communication networks have already gone down, just as expected. Jeremiah believes that we are only seeing their first move of the day. We have no idea where the next one will come from, or what it will be.”

“Shit.” Owen began moving once more, jogging forward out of the stadium and into the bright afternoon light of the fairgrounds. “Do we even know what they’re after yet?”

“Currently, there is only speculation,” Dispatch said. “However, as downtown is a location where an attack will draw immediate response, and given the current composition of people in the fairgrounds, Modus Operandi has put forth the theory that they are seeking out situations that have the greatest concentrations of Supers.”

“More refinement?” Owen jumped to the side to avoid a small crowd as he hurried through an exit gate. In spite of the need to move, he made sure to give them an apologetic wave and reassuring smile. If people panicked or caught wind that things were wrong before the other Heroes were in position, the whole place could fall into chaos. That was why Deadlift had to finish the contest: they needed to keep people from realizing things were headed south.

“It is possible. The second most likely possibility is that the refinement has been finished, and this is the end-game.”

“No way. . . someone is trying to purge Brewster? That seems spectacularly ill-advised.” Owen raced down the streets, now officially out of the fairgrounds and able to stop pretending he wasn’t rushing for all he was worth.

“True, but no logical strategy makes sense with these tactics so far,” Dispatch agreed. “The DVA is calling in as many Heroes as possible to Brewster to assist with the attack. Currently, the orders are to protect the civilians, destroy the robotic troops, and try and discern what their main objective is.”

“In that order?” Owen asked.

“For everyone else, yes. Your team is to prioritize location of the controller and its destruction above all else,” Dispatch informed him. “Though, until that location is found, you are to work in the same way as all the other Heroes.”

“Guess that’s something.” He understood the need for the greater good; no Hero could save everyone, so they had to prioritize saving as many as they could. That said, Owen had never found peace with ignoring people in need. He still did it, because that was how he saved thousands at the cost of dozens, but it still ate at him every time he had to do so. At least he could do his part for a while. Hopefully, by the time they were supposed to split off, things would be under control enough that the other Heroes could handle it.

Owen sprinted down the street, hurdling intersections with the barest of effort, doing his best to ignore the stares as he leapt over cars and people. All thoughts of discretion went out of his mind as he barreled across the roads. There was no telling how long it would be before the attack started, but every moment of delay had the very real risk of costing someone else their life. He refused to be too late to help.

No matter what, when the robots arrived, Titan would be there to greet them.

99.

Downtown Brewster, while not fully recovered from the most recent battle, was in substantially better shape than Owen had last seen it. Whether it stayed that way for long would depend in equal measures on luck and the costumed men and women who were already gathered in front of him, many transporting civilians out of the area in large groups. Seeing the humans being evacuated eased Owen’s nerves a touch; he’d been in enough metropolitan battles to know that sheltering in place wasn’t always a safe strategy. With the normal people gone, the Heroes would be free to focus on neutralizing the threat, and that would be safer for everyone.

Most of the other Heroes were familiar to Owen in that he’d seen them in his research, though he couldn’t always pair a name with a costume. Several, however, he was certain didn’t usually work Brewster. It appeared that Dispatch was right: the DVA had decided to swell their ranks. Were he a younger man with a more vulnerable sense of pride, Owen might have felt slighted at the idea that what Brewster had on hand wouldn’t be enough. Instead, he merely thanked whatever divine force was watching over them for the extra help. These robots could be a handful, and the presence of every able body available would mean less death and destruction.

Spotting his temporary team was easy enough, since Gale was hovering in place ten feet off the ground, eyes closed and hands lifted skyward. While he didn’t know exactly what she was doing, Owen could still read the mood well enough to approach slowly, lest he disturb something important. Aether and Jeremiah both turned as he approached, the latter holding up a finger to his lips, then whispering, “She’s trying to get a sense of where they’re coming from.”

“How?” Owen’s tone matched Jeremiah’s, as soft as he could make it while still being heard.

“Feeling the air currents, seeing if they hit unnatural obstacles,” Jeremiah explained. “Can’t do it for people, but a giant herd of robots would be distinctive.”

“You both know I can hear you and that I don’t actually need silence, right?” Gale opened one eye and glared down at them before turning her face skyward once more.

“Huh, you don’t? I sort of just assumed.” Jeremiah shrugged and went back to a normal voice, forgoing the gentle whispers. “Anyway, Dispatch has been tracking the robots’ general movement, but there are limits to how much detail she can get us. Once Gale determines exactly where the attack is coming from, we smash up the first wave since the damn things always come in multiple waves, but try to keep at least one functional. My people are doing their best to track the signal, but so far they’re not having any luck, which means our best shot is to tap into one that’s still active.”

From his pocket, Jeremiah produced a device that looked roughly like a ballpoint pen someone had covered in glue and rolled in electronic debris. “Assuming I can figure out which part of the robot is the receiver and jam this in, we’ll have our location in less than a minute.”

“Can’t you just sift through the wreckage of one?” Aether asked. “These things don’t go down easy and keep fighting as long as they’ve got limbs and power.”

“Wouldn’t do me any good. As soon as the robot is down it deactivates itself, burning out its receiver,” Jeremiah said. “We’ve gone through the remains of nearly a hundred and it’s the same every time, nothing but a burned out box of circuits. Hell of a self-preservation mechanism, I have to say.”

“Then how do you know it won’t self-destruct when you try and jam that pen in it?” Owen asked.

“We don’t. Shit, given how well they’re built, the damn things will almost certainly do just that. But if it does work, then it makes our job way easier and saves a lot of people. Seems like a gamble worth taking, don’t you think?” Jeremiah seemed oddly sincere with the question, as though he’d listen to whatever objections Owen could voice. The big man had none, however, because Jeremiah was right. Even if it would probably fail, there was little risk to trying, and the payoff was high enough that it justified the time spent.

“When the first wave is broken, I’ll snap the limbs off one and hold down its torso,” Owen offered. “It might still have some tricks up its sleeve, though, so be careful.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a lot tougher than I look,” Jeremiah replied. “Might even be tougher than you.”

Before Owen could call into question the likelihood of that, Dispatch’s voice sounded in his ear. “Titan, I wanted to let you know that the first defensive teams are in place at the fairgrounds, and that Deadlift is headed in your direction. He’s being brought by a Hero with flying abilities, so arrival should occur in less than three minutes.”

“Thanks, Dispatch.” His team was safely under the protection of fellow Heroes, and the last member of their hunting party was en route. It wasn’t ideal—no situation where masses of destructive robots were about to attack could be—but it was as good as he could hope for. Part of him wished he could be with the PEERS to make sure they were safe, but they were in good hands. Aside from the Heroes present, they were plenty strong and smart themselves. He trusted in them to survive and to help where they were needed. If the tug-of-war had shown him only one thing, it was that none of those kids were the type to just roll over and die. Which reminded him. . .

“Hey Dispatch, you don’t happen to know who won that tug-of-war event, do you?”

“My understanding is that the Wild Bucks took the final win of the competition, although it was a tough one.”

“I’ll have to congratulate Deadlift when he gets here,” Owen muttered.

“Yeah, that might need to wait a bit.” Gale’s eyes were open again, and she was lowering herself to the ground. Cupping her hands to mouth, she yelled her next words, which were miraculously carried on the burst of wind she sent out at the same time.

“Everyone! Robots are approaching from the southeast and will probably break into view around Eighth Street. If you’re a Hero, prepare for battle. If you’re a civilian still here, start running north. There’s a lot of them coming and they’ll arrive in less than two minutes!”

“That is a damn handy trick,” Owen told her, shifting his view to the street where robots would soon be appearing.

“It’s useful, but a little more imprecise than I’d like.” Gale, always confident and sure in herself, chewed on her bottom lip and glanced at the sky nervously. “Dispatch, are we seeing any movement besides the robots? Something big coming from the east?”

Though he hadn’t been the one to ask the question, Dispatch’s reply still crackled in his ear. “Negative, based on our surveillance and satellites everything is clear. Do you have other information?”

“No, I just thought I might have felt something,” Gale replied. “It was only for a moment, though. Like I said, trying to use air currents as a sensor is imprecise.”

A high-pitched whine filled the air, and the unmistakable sound of metal feet pounding on pavement echoed toward them from the southeast. All eyes turned as muscles tightened and abilities were made ready.

“Imprecise or not,” Owen said. “It looks like you got this part right.”

The explosion from behind him, to the northwest, took everyone by surprise. A horde of robots erupted upward from under the streets, immediately attacking the Heroes nearest to them. Seconds later, the wave they’d been expecting burst into view, and just like that the collection of Supers was flanked on both sides by their enemy.