Paranormals (Book 1) (25 page)

"This is
more
than some ‘childish’ fantasy about revenge. Oh, don’t get me wrong —
justice
makes up a healthy dose of every decision I make these days. But it’s more than that. The world’s been one messed up place since the Night of the White Flash, and the Paranormal Effect’s making things more and more
shitty
all the time." He thumped two fingers onto the essay for emphasis. "This kid’s right in more ways than he could ever know. What is it — more than two-thirds of all paranormals go rogue in one way or another? Something like that? Huh?"

Alan could have responded by this point, but he didn’t. He continued listening.

"Well,
I
for one don’t care for what that says about people. Or for the message that sends to all the Jeffrey Lawerences out there. The Paranormal Effect is still going on, Alan. We have no idea when, or if, it will ever stop — hell, we haven’t even figured out what’s
causing
it yet. And there are all these people out there, kids or otherwise, who are being taught that when you get an unexpected, new, dazzling power, you
abuse
it. Either you waltz through a bank vault wall, or you peer through a teenage girl’s panties with your x-ray eyes."

Steve paused deliberately now, almost goading Alan into trying to contradict him. Alan remained persistently silent, which suited Steve just fine.

"The morning my family was murdered," Steve said, his voice softer now, "I was wondering about my place in the world. And now I think I might have found my answers. I could use all the help I can get, but if you won’t go along with this, then I’ll just have to take my chances
alone
."

Finally Alan responded, but all that came out was a very weak, "Steve ... I would never want you to be
alone
, but this ..."

Steve smiled and stood very tall. "I may not have exactly gone paranormal, Alan, but I’m the closest thing
to
it now. And if no
paranormal
is going to grant Jeffrey Lawrence’s wish, then you better believe that this
cyborg
is going to tr—"

A
buzzing —
far more urgent than his intercom — cut him off. Alan jumped right out of his skin, then rushed back around the desk and punched a button. A computer monitor rose from the top of the desk.

"Security alert!" he panted. "The perimeter’s been compromised!"

"Have the authorities been advised?"

"Not yet — we have sixty seconds to determine whether or not it’s a false alarm, then the police, the FBI, and the PCA will be called."

"Disable it."

Alan’s jaw dropped. "
What?!
"

"Disable it," Steve repeated. "Give me fifteen minutes,
then
send out the call."

Alan shook his head. "No. Steve, we can’t—!"

"Yes, we can. Give me this chance, Alan. You owe me that much."

Alan looked very skeptical on that note, but when he sighed heavily, Steve grinned and removed his jacket ...

PCA

Waid flash-froze another security guard as her female companion, Zimmer, projected a force-bolt through the reinforced doors. Their third member, Elliott, skimmed over their heads — his bat-wings brushed lightly against Waid’s hair, and she didn’t bother repressing a shudder. She would have preferred to have dragged that big hunk who liked to be called Powerhouse along with her, but McLane wanted him to have time "to give his circumstances due thought." Elliott might be one
ugly
rogue, but at least he was loyal sans blackmail.

As Elliott fired off the EM grenade to burn out the warehouse’s defenses, Waid and Zimmer waited for the guards’ reinforcements that were sure to come. It only took them a minute to realize that the expected support troops apparently weren’t coming after all, and something about that did not sit well with Waid. She said as much.

"So what?" Zimmer muttered with a shrug — the short, squat woman loved to grumble, mumble, and murmur, treating apathy as though it were something to be proud of, and it drove Waid absolutely crazy. "So they’re respondin’ slower than we thought. You gonna look a gift horse in the mouth or what?"

Waid repressed the urge to flash-freeze
her
and leave her behind. She gripped her 9mm more tightly. "I’m just pointing out that it seems the almighty
Davison Electronics
would be more carefully—"

"Ladies!" Elliott called with a heavy lisp — his paranormal mutation left him with a bat-face as well as wings, and as a result he looked and sounded like a severe hairlip. "All clear!"

"Go in and help him," Waid ordered Zimmer. "I’ll keep watching out. Be ready to hustle out here on a moment’s notice."

Zimmer shrugged and disappeared into the warehouse. Waid forced herself to breathe easy and turned her silver eyes back to the surrounding grounds.

I’ll have to talk to McLane about her attitude
, she fumed.
If she doesn’t start— What was that?!

There had been movement, somewhere to her right. Something dark, glimpsed only in her peripheral vision. The whole area was pretty wide open, but aside from the other research warehouses, offices, and laboratories, there were also storage bunkers and bins and the occasional company car or van. Choosing to err on the side of caution, she flashed her eyes in that direction. If someone were trying to sneak up on her, she could only hope that they were looking her way at that moment, but she figured she had nothing to lose. After all, it took her eyes mere seconds to recharge their paranormal juice, or whatever it was that they did. Even so, she made sure her 9mm’s safety was off.

"Hurry it up, people!" she called over her shoulder while continuing to scan the area. "We might be getting company after all!"

At the last moment, she heard a sound somewhere above her. She ducked just in time to evade a black-booted foot — instead of cracking her skull, it merely scraped across her shoulder. The impact was still enough to spin her around, but she rolled with it and fired both her eyes and her gun in sync.

The figure neither froze nor reacted as though it were shot. It also twisted to the side and back around, coming into a fighting stance barely five feet from her and finally giving her a solid view of who or what she was facing.

And when she
did
finally see her opponent, she didn’t know whether to shoot again, flash him, or burst out laughing. Her first coherent thought was,
If Graham thinks
Lincoln
is funny, he should see
this
 guy!

Powerhouse’s
name
might have been straight from the comics, but this guy really took the cake. He wore a full-on super-hero costume, complete with a flowing black cape. It was sort of Superman-esque in style, but darker — it had
black
in place of red, and
gold
in place of blue. It also came complete with black forearm-high gloves and full-face mask, and in place of the famous chest emblem was an eye-teasing spiral, like something out of an E. M. Escher drawing.

Then she was back to business. "Nice try, kiddo, but your little fantasy’s gonna be pretty short lived." With that, she flashed him right in his pretty blue eyes.

And Waid was so confident in her paranormal might that she just stood there as Steve blinked at her in mild confusion, then hauled off and kicked her square in the jaw.

As the rogue dropped like a rock, Steve tried to reel in his adrenaline, but it wasn’t easy. His forearm still stung from where the bullet struck, but his uniform had done its job — he was probably bruised, but not bleeding. Whatever that flash from her eyes was supposed to do, he had either been protected by the psi-band he wore beneath his mask, or perhaps by his mechanical eyes themselves. Either way, it was extremely exhilarating to have beaten a rogue without even using his arsenal of visual weaponry.

His inner victory dance was cut justly short, however, when Zimmer emerged from the warehouse, took one look at Waid, and shot a force-bolt from the center of her chest. The bolt missed Steve by bare inches as he threw himself backward to avoid it, and it left him in a terrible position. Off-balance, he was unable to avoid the hideous bat-like rogue who emerged from the warehouse over Zimmer’s head and power-dived right into him. Winded, Steve tried to roll back to his feet again.

"I don’t think so," the frightening rogue lisped as he kicked Steve in the side. His micro-chainmail protected him from the worst of it, but it knocked him back down.

Groaning, Waid shook her head, spat out a mouthful of blood, and yelled, "Kill him!"

Producing a nasty-looking knife from his belt, Elliott moved in to do just that.

Steve wasn’t sure how safe he would be from the business-end of an edged weapon, and he wasn’t going to find out. He simply looked up from his position on the ground and fired his lasers. The thin red beams cut through the knife and sliced off half of Elliott’s thumb at the same time.

"Shit!" Zimmer cursed with atypical clarity. "He’s paranormal!"

Screaming in pain and rage, Elliott gaped at his mutilated hand, then threw himself down at Steve.

Here goes nothing
.

The air between Steve and Elliott suddenly rippled, and the rogue’s cries were cut short as his breath was squeezed from him. His arms collapsed into his chest. His ribs cracked, and the leathery flesh of his wings instantly began to discolor. When the vortex wave cut out at the end of its three-second burst, Elliott fell to his knees in a pitiful heap, unable to do anything more than choke precious air back into his compressed lungs.

Climbing smoothly to his feet, Steve faced the other two rogues. "That was the lowest power setting I have for that weapon," he informed them. "Would you like to see how
high
it can go?"

"Piss off!" Zimmer yelled, cutting loose with another force-bolt.

Steve responded instantly, countering with another vortex. This wave did not compress Zimmer, but rushed towards her in a concussive stream that would have done Shockwave of the PCA proud.

Her bolt and his wave collided, and it was no contest. Zimmer’s bolt ricocheted straight back into her chest. Her eyes bulged in their sockets and her mouth opened. She convulsed violently, a grating gurgle leaking from the back of her throat. Her hands clawed at her left breast, and then her eyes rolled back in her head.

Aghast, Steve rushed forward. He caught her just as her legs folded, and he lowered her to the ground.

"Jesus," Waid managed to whisper around her rapidly-swelling jaw, "I think she’s having a heart attack."

Steve felt for her pulse. It was extremely erratic — the silver-eyed woman probably wasn’t too far off target. Looking up into the night sky, he fired his lasers straight toward the Seven Stars in three short bursts. If Alan were watching as promised, he would know it was now time to call for backup. An ambulance would soon follow.

Looking around him, Steve took in the sight of three rogues in various states of defeat. Things hadn’t gone quite as he’d hoped, but in the end he
was
the only one left standing. It hadn’t been the kind of heroic success that Jeffrey Lawrence probably would have envisioned ... but at least he had
won
.

A flash of light reminded him that his opponents were
down
, but not necessarily
out
. He looked over at the woman he’d kicked and her eyes flashed
again
as she growled in frustration. Whatever her power was, she obviously wasn’t used to it not working.

She had recovered her 9mm and tried to bring it around to bear, but Steve leaped forward and pinned her wrist under his foot. She swung at him with her free hand, going for his groin, but he soon had her as helpless as he had Alan in his dad’s office just a short time ago. The woman, unable to move, cried out in anger and flashed her silver eyes one more time.

"You finished?" he asked her.