Seven Wonders (21 page)

  He had to pick his way carefully across the roof of this block − the whole area was divided by open-air courtyards and glass ceilings, the perfect design for hot summer evenings − but with a renewed enthusiasm to teach that sonovabitch who the new boss was he found his way forward with surprising speed. He jumped a couple of courtyards and then one of the glass ceilings, but misjudged the timing slightly, his foot missing the support beam and landing on the glass instead. He heard the glass crack, but not break, and as he hopped forward onto a studier surface he chuckled at the thought of fifty diners looking up at the sound and seeing the city's new superhero chasing his quarry. The thought tickled him, and at the next courtyard he powered higher in his jump than was strictly necessary, making a head-over-heels somersault in mid-air, and smacking down on the other side on his knee. The old building vibrated, enough to rattle some wine glasses, Tony thought. He was almost having fun.

  His focus snapped back. The Cowl was gone, out of sight. Shit. Tony skidded to a halt, surveying the block in front. He was almost at the next street, at the opposite side of the Gaslight Quarter. A couple of streets farther up, the light from the street below was particularly bright and flecked with red and blue. It crossed Tony's mind that it was probably the police, but a second later distraction came as something pushed his head, at speed, into the brick of the chimney next to him.

  The chimney cracked but stayed upright. Tony blinked the dust out of his eyes and cried out in surprise before finding a gloved hand at his throat and a second forming a clenched fist in his peripheral vision. Tony turned, but was pinned in place; straining his eyes to the right he saw only a black silhouette and hooded head. Something was said in a hoarse whisper, but before Tony registered the words the raised fist connected with his jaw, pushing not just his head but his entire upper body clean through the chimney. Off balance, Tony was pushed off his feet, bricks exploding around him as the chimney collapsed entirely. The rubble pummeled Tony's head, although now the hand around his neck was gone. After a few seconds, he shook his head clear and raised himself back upright, spitting the dust from his mouth. There was a hiss from nearby, and Tony looked up.

  The Cowl stood, arms folded in a classic, action-figure pose that Tony suspected he might have practiced in front of the mirror. It was imposing and impressive, designed to strike fear and dread into the city's general populace.

  Tony realized with a start that that used to be him.

  He'd been the guy on the street running for cover when the Cowl flew low overhead, the one ducking into a shop doorway when the Cowl's sidekick Blackbird sped down the street on her motorbike, one hand on the accelerator and the other reaching back, emptying the magazine of an MP5 at pursuing police. Tony felt his heart racing and took a moment to calm. He wasn't tired from the chase, far from it, but he regulated his breathing and relaxed his muscles. There was a tight feeling in his chest, one of excitement. And, perhaps, despite himself… fear.

  But things were different now. He was the Cowl's equal, he knew that from the little to-do down at the bank. Tony was prepared to do whatever was necessary to stop him. The Seven Wonders weren't prepared to neutralize the Cowl, the last supervillain on the Earth, or they'd be out of a job. Tony wasn't like that. Tony was the Justiciar for a reason. And that reason was standing right in front of him. This was it. His big moment.

  The Cowl didn't move when Tony took a step forward. The naked mouth and chin under the Cowl's mask were fixed in an arrogant snarl, not dissimilar to Aurora's smirk made famous by countless television appearances and promotional material. On Aurora it was the carefully calculated expression of grim determination. On the Cowl it was the smile of an asshole who thought he knew better.

  "The 'Eight Wonders' doesn't quite have the same ring to it, does it?" The Cowl's teeth shone in the dark, the flash of white matching the blank ellipses of his eyes and the only things that weren't jet black against the night sky behind. Even the famous red sigil on his chest was invisible.

  Tony paused and leaned back slightly, biding his time, choosing his moment. He was going to tear this motherfucker's head off, there was no doubt about it, but he wanted to play the game, just a little. He was on the same level now.

  Tony – the
Justiciar
– straightened up and lowered his voice to match the Cowl's own theatrical growl. It seemed like a good way to disguise his real voice. And, hell, maybe it sounded pretty cool too.

  "You'll have to explain that joke," said Tony. Then before he could stop himself he added: "Creep" and instantly regretted it. This wasn't a comic book show-down.

  The Cowl laughed. Tony was a little surprised, as it wasn't an evil, calculating chuckle. Of course not. The Cowl
wasn't
evil. Nobody was. Everybody in the whole world was the center of their own life drama. Everybody was their own superhero, everybody was a good guy. It just so happened that the Cowl's "good" was the opposite of most people's. Even the tag, "supervillain", had been given to him by the news media of San Ventura. Not even the Seven Wonders had ever used that terminology. As far as the Cowl was concerned, he was the city's benefactor and savior.

  Huh. Just like Tony. Except Tony knew he was right and the Cowl was wrong.

  "Superheroes are regulated," said the Cowl. "Self-regulated, sure, but that means you're either with them, or against them. You're the eighth Wonder, or you're a crook like me. Which is it, boy?"

  Tony balled his fists and raised himself up on his toes, ready to charge. "The 'boy' that took down the Cowl, that's who. You can call me the Justiciar."

  He sprinted forward, allowing just a touch of flight power to push him forward over the roof and towards the Cowl. He moved quickly, too quickly for the Cowl it seemed, who hunched over ready to take the impact force. Tony's shoulder connected with the Cowl's lower abdomen, forcing the air from the villain and causing a cracking sound so loud Tony thought they'd stepped onto another glass ceiling. It was like the bank all over again; remembering what had happened on their first encounter, Tony cleared his mind and concentrated on what he was doing.

  Tony kept up the pressure, pushing the Cowl across the roof and impacting the cinder block outhouse of an emergency stairwell exit. The wall buckled inwards, but stayed intact, and Tony bounced back, ready to block the Cowl's attack.

  Nothing. Tony tiptoed like a boxer for a moment, then relaxed his posture. The Cowl tried to pull himself from the wall, and eventually succeeded but not without quite some effort. Disengaged from the split concrete, the Cowl toppled onto one knee and breathed heavily, sucking the hot night air. Tony thought he heard a nasty popping sound with each gasp and he could see his quarry was favoring one arm as he supported himself in a crouch.

  Tony saw his opportunity. Somehow he'd hit harder than he intended and had incapacitated the Cowl, even for just a minute. This was more than the Seven Wonders had ever managed. He
was
more powerful than them, this proved it.

  Well, holy shit and praise Mary.

  Tony grabbed the Cowl's hood and yanked him to his feet. Immediately the Cowl twisted and threw an awkward punch towards him, but Tony ducked to one side and the fist flew past his face and into only empty air. The Cowl grunted with the effort and the arm fell loosely back to his side.

  Tony lifted the Cowl's face to his own. The Cowl laughed, showing a mouth full of blood. Tony's heart raced at the sight, but caught up in the moment he chose not to dwell on the level of violence he was inflicting. He let go of the Cowl, who sagged on his feet before Tony punched once, twice, three times, and ended with a kick that sent the Cowl tumbling over and off the roof, down into the street below. A second later he heard the villain hit the pavement, and then he heard running, booted feet. The red and blue lights continued to flash. The police were on the scene. They must have had reports about the chase and had swept in.

  Well, good. He'd done it. He'd taught the Cowl a lesson and had dropped him right in the lap of the police. He straightened up and dusted the rest of the brickwork from his costume. Time to introduce himself to the SVPD, but rather than walk and jump, he flew upwards and backwards, keeping out of sight of the street below, then once he'd reached what felt like an appropriately impressive height, he flew forwards and descended vertically with his arms folded, as he'd seen Aurora and the other flight-capable members of the Seven Wonders do many times. There was something to be said for making the right entrance.

  He touched down, looked around, and realized his mistake. The blue and red light hadn't been flickering at all, it had been steady: the red halo of Aurora, the blue glow of the Dragon Star. Tony had landed behind the Cowl, who lay in a crumpled heap on the ground.

  On the other side of the supervillain, the Seven Wonders stood in an arrow formation, Aurora at the head, flanked to his left by the Dragon Star, Bluebell and Linear, and to his right by Sand Cat, Hephaestus and SMART. Bluebell and Linear looked surprised, Sand Cat angry. The Dragon Star lifted her huge golden staff in one hand and floated about six inches off the ground, her wide hood and white clock swirling behind her in some invisible field streaming off her weapon.

  Tony stared. Holy shit. What had he been thinking? The Seven Wonders were, well,
superhuman.

  Aurora stood with arms folded. He stared at Tony, white eyes unreadable but his aura pulsing scarlet in what, to Tony, looked like a decidedly pissed-off way. The Cowl's words came back to him and he suddenly felt very small and in a lot of trouble. Superheroes were regulated, and he wasn't a member of the Seven Wonders.

  Bluebell stepped forward, breaking the superhero formation to kneel beside the Cowl's prone form. The supervillain stirred, pushing himself up from the ground. He saw Bluebell looking down at him, and smiled to show his injuries. Bluebell's eyes widened at the sight of his bloody mouth, and she looked first at Tony, then back at Aurora.

  Oh
shit
. Tony puffed his chest out but it was more to make himself feel better. He could escape, get away, live to fight another day. The Seven Wonders now had the Cowl in custody, and they surely couldn't deny the opportunity to lock him up and recover whatever it was he'd dumped on the roof before he'd jumped on his pursuer. His job was done, for now, and maybe later he'd approach the superteam and introduce himself properly, in better, more controlled circumstances. Yes, that was a good idea, now that he had shown his mettle. He was well disguised in the costume Jeannie had made for him, so they couldn't find him in his civilian identity. Up, up and away, no problem.

  Aurora started to speak but Tony was already half a mile away and didn't catch all of it. He ground his teeth in concentration, shooting straight up as fast as possible. After five minutes he looked down, and didn't see any glowing superheroes following him. He was high in the stratosphere, where it was freezing and the air was thin. But he wasn't making that mistake again, either. He stopped his flight, relaxed, and let gravity pull him back towards San Ventura.

Bluebell rejoined the Seven Wonders, and none moved for a while. The Cowl pushed himself into a sitting position and spat blood onto the pavement.

  "Is this it?"

  Aurora unfolded his arms.

  "You're hurt."

  "It'll heal. But it's Blackbird. She's hurt and she's not like me. I need to get her back to… to my facility."

  Bluebell glanced at her husband, who nodded and refolded his arms.

  "Where is she?"

  "I left her on the roof."

  "Then go," said Aurora. "We will meet again."

  Following their leader, The Seven Wonders jetted skywards, leaving the Cowl bleeding in the alley.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Bluebell paused. The sharp clicking grew in volume and the doors to the conference room slid open. The Dragon Star padded in, her footfalls silent but her powerstaff ringing loudly against the hard floor of the Citadel. The five other heroes assembled at the elliptical table watched their colleague walk in and take her designated chair, a few nodding in acknowledgment before returning their attention to Bluebell.

  The Dragon Star sat stiffly, staff making one final
clack
before being held upright and still. She glanced up, and saw that Aurora's attention wasn't on his wife, it was on her. But the white eyes and set expression – the famous, odd smile, half grim determination, half arrogant condescension − made his face impossible to read.

  Bluebell resumed the briefing, placing the thumb and forefinger of one hand against her forehead and her short, spiky blonde hair. She rose maybe six inches from the floor as the air above the center of the conference table shifted and blurred as the event replay was resumed.

  "There!" An empty conference chair was left rocking as Linear blinked into existence on the opposite side of the table to where he had just been sitting. His silver-clad form melted into a shiny blur as he spun around the table several times, examining the three-dimensional replay from several angles.

  "What do your eyes tell you, speedster?" Hephaestus now, stroking his ringlet beard with a massive hand, his chair creaking as he leaned his bulk back into it. All eyes moved between the Greek god and the slightly fuzzy outline of Linear, who was buzzing with excitement.

  All eyes except Aurora. The Dragon Star tilted her head down slightly, letting the peak of her hood cut the top of his face from her own view. She didn't like the attention.

  Did he know something?

  Linear's form solidified as he slowed down and he pointed at the playback. "Back one-fifteenth of a second, Bluebell. One-fifteenth more… There it is."

  Hephaestus harrumphed theatrically.

  "There
what
is?"