Just Cause Universe 2: The Archmage (6 page)

“I think what he means is why someone would choose to attack it here, right in the shadow of Just Cause,” said Shannon.

“The Vending Machine Mafia isn’t known for its smarts. All that junk food and sugar is ruining their brainpower.”

“Jack, if you don’t knock it off, you’re going to be riffing to an empty room,” said Sally. “But I’m sure you’re familiar with that sensation. I’ll meet you guys at the pad. My boots are in my room.” She stepped lithely around Jack and sped down the hallway to the dormitory to retrieve her expensive, custom footwear. She took a few seconds to change into her costume. In a moment, she was garbed in her tight-fitting red bodysuit with the stylized yellow chess knight emblem. She pulled on her breathing mask and let it dangle at her throat, then stuck her goggles up onto her forehead where they’d be ready at a moment’s notice. Once she got moving faster than seventy or eighty miles per hour, she needed them to protect her face from windburn and airborne particulates. She saw the three horseshoes on her desk and hesitated. She was being silly, she told herself. Ridiculous. Time travel. She grabbed her two horseshoes and left the imposter behind.

The team’s custom jet taxied out of its hangar. The
Bettie
resembled a wide-bodied, heavily-armed and armored Learjet. Its engines could rotate downward to allow it to take off vertically and hover like a helicopter.

Most of the team had already assembled inside the jet except Sondra, who was on Command Center duty and wouldn’t leave it unless the team required her assistance. Juice was at a Homeland Security meeting in Dallas and wouldn’t be back until the next day. Doublecharge made final adjustments to her black and white costume with its stylized lightning borders. She would command the mission in Juice’s absence.

“Everyone’s aboard, Reed. Launch when ready,” said Doublecharge.

The former Alaskan bush pilot at the controls acknowledged over the cabin speakers. “
Roger, ma’am. Taking off now. Everyone hold on…
” The
Bettie
’s engines rose in pitch and intensity as the jet lifted straight up from the launch pad.

Sally could see Shannon’s eyes, lids half lowered, as they constantly strayed back toward Jason. Being a speedster, she didn’t build up to a slow burn; her anger and temper were quick to ignite and inside she blazed furious.

“Okay,” said Doublecharge as she held a headset up to one ear. “We’ve got at least six, possibly seven unknown parahumans apparently intent upon robbing the Denver Mint.”

Jack chuckled. “Such asshattery. Words fail me.”

“All right,” said Doublecharge over his interruption. “I don’t want this to turn into a free-for-all since the Mint is right in the middle of downtown. Police are trying to evacuate the area, but I suspect we won’t have that much time.”

“Doesn’t the Mint here just make coins? Not much profit in robbing that.” Switchboard looked out the window at the city rolling by underneath them.

“I already said that,” said Jason, looking goofy and proud. “Who’s the dumb jock now?”

“Nobody called you a dumb jock,” said Shannon.

Sally felt like sinking into her seat, knowing she’d uttered those very words only the day before. She hadn’t meant them in a hurtful way, but bringing that up would only drive more of a wedge between her and Jason, and Shannon was like a shark circling a tired swimmer.

“They also store gold and silver bullion,” added Shannon. “And there will be printing dies there as well.”

Insufferable know-it-all
, thought Sally.

“If everyone is finished… I’ll get on with this briefing, since we’re almost there already.” Doublecharge glared around the cabin, and a tiny lightning bolt crackled between her eyes. Everyone shut up. “Speed’s of the essence, here, so let’s try to keep this from degenerating into either a slugfest or a running battle. Teams of two: Jack and Sally, Jason and Shannon, and Switchboard with me. Take down your nearest opponent. If you can’t, call in another team and tag out. We’ll start from the outside and work our way in. Reed will give us a single flyby pass before landing. Switchboard and I will deploy out the lock then. The rest of you follow upon set-down. Standard public protocol from here on out.”

Standard public protocol meant they were only to refer to one another by their alternate identities: Crackerjack and Mustang Sally, Mastiff and Vapor, Switchboard and Doublecharge.

“
We’re over the Mint now
,” came Reed’s voice over the cabin speakers. “
I got two hostiles standing guard over, uh, some horses
.”

“Horses?” repeated Doublecharge.

“
Yes ma’am. Only… they look like they’re armored or mechanical or something
.”

“Get a camera on them and feed it in here, Reed. Stand by for airlock deployment.”

In a moment, the cabin’s viewscreens showed a group of seven entities. They
might have been armored horses. Or, like Reed said, they might have been mechanical devices. Two men in SWAT-level battle armor and cowboy hats stood guard over the mounts. They also had neckerchiefs, chaps, and spurs.

Jack burst out laughing. “
Morons! I’ve got morons on my team!
”

“
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
,” retorted Sally. “It’s been on the Westerns Channel all month.”

“Saw that, did you?” Jack rolled his eyes. In the five months Sally had been with Just Cause, he had yet to stump her with a movie quote.

“Switchboard, move out,” said Doublecharge. The two headed for the back of the
Bettie
, where a special airlock allowed the flying members of the team to enter or exit while the jet was airborne.
“Crackerjack, call the ball for the team when it’s on the ground.”
 

“Yeth thir, Captain Doublecharge, ma’am.” Jack kicked his heels together, crossed his eyes, and saluted.

Sally heard thumps from the rear of the jet as the airlock opened. Reed whipped the
Bettie
around to kill its forward momentum. Switchboard and Doublecharge dove toward the cowboys. Electricity crackled around Doublecharge’s hands as she ordered the two men to lie on the ground with their hands on their heads.

Sally’s stomach leaped into her throat as Reed dropped the
Bettie
down to the pavement below and grounded the jet right in the middle of the street. The bomb bay doors opened and Jack ordered everyone out. “Reed, stay on the ground on hot standby unless you start taking fire.”

“
Roger that
,” replied the pilot.

The two cowboys’ eyes bugged out when the
Bettie
landed. Sally saw they looked terrified by the appearance of Just Cause on the scene.
What did they expect
, she wondered as her perceptions sped into high gear to give her plenty of subjective time for consideration and internal commentary.
It’s not like we’d just stand by and let them get away with it
.

The pudgier cowboy raised his hands. At first Sally thought he was surrendering, but in a moment ribbons of energy flowed from them. The ribbons broadened to form a shimmering hemisphere over the robotic horses and the cowboys. The second man pulled a Nextel phone from his belt and shouted rapid-fire Spanish into it.

Sally waited, impatient for Jack to catch up with her. She disliked being partnered with anyone, because she always felt like she wasted time when she had to operate at “normal” speeds. And she was steamed because Doublecharge partnered Jason with
Shannon
. Sally stamped her feet like a racehorse chomping at the bit. Everyone seemed to move through the air as if it were as thick as molasses. She couldn’t stand it any more and made herself slow down enough to speak to Jack on a comprehensible level. “I’m going to scout inside real quick. Be back before you miss me.”

She zipped away as Jack said “Wait, what?” She’d leave the others to take care of the two cowboys outside. The fat one had force fields, which meant he’d be a little harder to take down. Or maybe not; Switchboard could probably put the man to sleep with his psionic powers.

Chaos reigned inside of the Mint. Despite heightened security measures implemented since 9/11, nobody had really ever expected terrorists to try to rob the Mint. Security had been arranged to minimize the risk of demolition, not robbery. Public tours of the Mint by were no longer permitted, but plenty of employees remained inside the building. A Mexican standoff had developed on the main printing floor. Three more cowboys—one actually a cowgirl—had taken some employees hostage and were using them as human shields against the armed Treasury guards.

Two more perpetrators dressed like the others were breaking apart machinery for the plates and dies inside. One of them had appropriated an entire roll of paper. Sally had to give them a little more credit than Jack had. He’d thought they were common bank robbers, especially given their whole Wild West motif. They weren’t bothering with the gold or silver bullion in deep storage; they were stealing the materials with which to print their own money, and the false bills would appear perfect to anyone except a Treasury agent.

Doublecharge had said speed was of the essence, and nobody was faster than Sally.

Nobody
.

She ran down the line of guards and pushed clip releases with one hand while she popped the chambered rounds out of the slides with the other. She’d practiced the technique for hours until she could perform it faster than even a seasoned gunman like Jack could pull a trigger. In spite of her speed, one guard got a surprised round off. Sally cursed and changed direction instantly, something she could do no matter how fast she was running. She could see the bullet spiraling through the air right toward a hostage. She slapped it aside with one of her horseshoes to send it toward a wall.

She paused in front of the guard who’d fired just long enough to disable his gun and waggle a reproachful finger in his face. Then she sped away and headed for the three villains who held civilian hostages. One of them twitched suddenly in her direction faster than anyone should have been able to with a motion almost a blur even to Sally.

Something wrapped around her legs, constricted, and she skidded hard into a printing press. Her goggles cracked with the impact.
At least it wasn’t my skull
, she thought in a daze. Blotchy stars danced in her visions from the force of the impact.
What the hell was that?
She looked down toward her feet. A sinuous ribbon of ruby-colored energy wrapped around her ankles and held them fast. The end of the ribbon curled away to end in the fist of a tall, reedy cowboy with a real soup-strainer of a mustache.

“
Usted la ha conseguido, Azote?
” shouted the cowgirl to the man holding the energy whip.

“
Sí, ella no puede escaparse,
” said Azote in satisfaction. He twitched the whip and jerked Sally sideways.

“
Hay más de ellos afuera
,” shouted another villain.

“There are more of us in here too, asshole,” called a familiar voice from high above. Sally glanced up and saw Jack perched in a high window, a pistol in each hand. “
Hablo español. Usted entiende inglés?
Let the hostages go and let’s go outside and talk this over
.
”

The woman glared up at him. She held something Sally thought was a ball bearing. Upon further examination afforded by her accelerated perceptions, she could see the woman had similar metallic spheres all over her costume. The way the woman brandished it, the little ball was obviously some kind of weapon. “No chance,
Americano
. Drop your weapons, or we start killing hostages
.
”

The energy ribbon around Sally wound further around her and constricted like a serpent. She gasped for breath and struggled against the crimson force.

Jack didn’t move. “Come on, this isn’t the way you want this to go. You’ve seen the movies… you know how it ends when you take hostages
.
”

“We’re walking out of here
,
” called the woman. “And you can’t stop us or we start killing them, starting with your friend.”

“Let’s make a deal,” called Jack. “You release all the hostages and you can take me instead.”

“No deal,” she said.

“Come on,” said Jack in his most convincing voice. “My team isn’t going to attack you if you’re holding me. Let’s just let you guys get out of here with a minimum of fuss and bother and let these poor people get back to their loved ones.”

The big man holding the roll of paper looked nervous. “
Él tiene quizá razón, Pistola.
”

“Shut up,
Cañón
,” hissed Pistola. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You guys know who I am?” Jack called to the security guards in English.

“Yes, sir,” replied one of the Treasury guards.

“Then you know I have the authority to order you guys to get the fuck out of here. Clear out. As of right now, this incident is under the jurisdiction of Just Cause and Homeland Security. You’re complicating things and people are going to die.”

The guards paused, uncertain what to do.

“Move it!”

One of the guards made a decision. “Okay, guys. You heard the man. We ain’t getting paid to stop supervillains.”

“But, Chuck…” started one of the men who plainly wanted to play hero.

“Shut up, Joe. I want to live to get my pension.”

The other man shrugged. “Good point.” The guards backed out through the doors to leave the printing floor vacant except for Jack, the cowboys, and their hostages.

“All right,” called Jack. “Now are you guys going to play ball or what?”

Sally twitched a little as she tried to find some weak spot in the energy ribbon binding her, but it held her so tight she could barely breathe. Nobody had ever managed to snare her when she was running at speed before. For the first time in her life, she’d found someone faster than her, and she was scared.

Pistola came to a decision. “All right, mister. You come down here and surrender and we’ll let these people go. Drop your weapons.”