Seven Wonders (31 page)

  Standing before the destroyed plate-glass window, Tony uncurled to his full height, his long scalloped cloak sweeping across his front in the wind blowing in from fifty stories up. The breeze tugged at his hood, giving glimpses of the tight skullcap and half-mask underneath.

  "Well now, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." Conroy stepped out from where he had been sheltering behind SMART. As he moved forward, Jeannie dropped her fists and tilted her head in obvious surprise.

  Conroy walked as close to the inside of the energy barrier as possible, and reached out a finger to touch it before pulling away and instead clasping his hands behind his back.

  "Hello, Blackbird. I assume Cowl the second is something to do with you. Looking good, supervillain, even if I do say so myself." He looked Tony up and down, nodding appreciatively. "Very dramatic. Great design, isn't it?"

  Tony hadn't moved; in truth he was beginning to panic. Attacking the Seven Wonders head-on sounded great back in the Lair but was now looking like a fucking stupid idea. Of course, that was why Blackbird had been the sidekick and the Cowl the boss – you could never trust a sidekick to come up with a plan. But there was something in Conroy's words: the hood, mask and swirling cloak… it had a power all of its own. Tony's fear fell away, replaced by confidence. Their entrance had certainly taken the assembled heroes by surprise.

  Tony smiled at Conroy and dropped his voice to an imitation of the Cowl's characteristic growl.

  "I thought the Seven Wonders had, y'know, seven members. You know this guy, Blackbird?"

  She stepped back carefully, retreating along her side of the table top before hopping delicately off the end and moving backwards to stand beside Tony. She nodded, and when she spoke her voice had a low, metallic quality.

  "Geoff Conroy, superpowered billionaire playboy, city benefactor, and he who used to be the Cowl." She laughed, the sound filtering through her mask like somebody rubbing bricks together. "Powerless, defenseless, he crawls to the good guys and begs for help. Pathetic."

  Truth be told Tony was impressed with her attitude, but then he supposed she'd had years of practice at playing it cool. Even as she stood beside him, she'd struck a pose, legs apart, balled fists held low, head held up, the winged mask elegant and arrogant. She was a pro, no mistake about it.

  Tony spoke, and taking a leaf from his partner's book, kept his voice low and even so as not to betray any emotion or surprise he felt at discovering that the Cowl hadn't left the city but had apparently swapped sides as soon as the going had got tough. Estimating the odds, he decided to take down the least-powered heroes first, which meant − apparently – Geoff Conroy, the former Cowl's powers now residing within him. Tony had wanted to rid the city of the Cowl, that was the whole point, but now seeing him switching allegiance to save his own skin, Tony felt even more disgust. Murderer and terrorist to… what? Superhero? Eighth member of the Seven Wonders? What did that say about him, or perhaps more importantly, about the superheroes themselves? Could you change sides so easily? The Cowl was an evil killer, not someone to invite around for afternoon tea.

  The Dragon Star twisted her staff into a fighting posture. Tony saw the opportunity, the microscopic breach in the energy shield as the field emitted by her alien device realigned itself. From a standing start he flew forward, several inches from the floor and at near-supersonic speed, punching through the gap in the shield and tackling Conroy, forcing the superteam to separate. Pinning him with one foot, Tony brought the heel of the other down on the floor. The marble split under his boot, then shattered as the structural integrity of the floor failed. Tony leaned down and grabbed Conroy by the shoulders, before accelerating downward in flight, crashing through the floor.

  In an instant, Aurora dropped his energy barrier and jumped feet first into the chasm, followed quickly by SMART, blue rocket jets firing from the bottom of its feet to control its descent.

  Blackbird stood alone. The remaining superheroes were formidable opponents, although Bluebell seemed to be preoccupied attending to the detectives. Of Linear and Sand Cat, there was no sign; she presumed they had followed the other two, the speedster racing down the stairs and Sand Cat freefalling through the floors in her spirit form. Hephaestus and the Dragon Star stood together, ready for battle. Behind them, the two detectives and Bluebell were talking. Blackbird focused her mask audio on their muffled conversation, but only caught the meaningless end of it before they both darted out of the room, leaving Bluebell to face Blackbird.

  Blackbird braced herself. As she tensed, she saw the Dragon Star bringing her powerstaff to bear. She smiled behind her mask.

  "Bring it, bitch."

  There was a crack and the wind from the broken wall gusted, causing Blackbird to sway on her feet. Then she heard a soft sound behind her, and spun around in surprise.

  Linear stood behind her, arms folded, his sleek silver suit gleaming in the sunlight.

  "That's no way to talk to a young lady."

  Blackbird dropped to a battle stance, but she knew it was pointless. She was a champion fighter, but had only slightly augmented strength and agility. Against Hephaestus, the Dragon Star, Bluebell and Linear, she had no chance. The attack was possibly the biggest fuck-up of her entire supercriminal career.

  Then again, if she was going down, she could at least break a few of their bones in the process.

  She curled her left hand into a fist, said a quick prayer to the goddess of advanced body armor, and with a feint to the right hooked Linear from the left. The speedster fell for it and was propelled backwards, crashing awkwardly onto the glass-covered floor near the smashed window. Less than a second after her punch landed, Blackbird's mask picked up movement behind her as the Dragon Star shifted her grip on her powerstaff, bringing the weapon to bear as she jogged forward. Blackbird kicked backwards, throwing herself completely off balance but pushing the powerstaff back into the hero's face, to which it connected heavily. She too stumbled backwards, Bluebell stepping forward and around her as the Dragon Star collided with the conference table. The all-American beauty, all blonde hair and blue eyes, had a face as dark as a storm.

  "Oh, Blackbird," she said with a smile. "I've been waiting for this for a
long
time."

They fell. As they did, Tony thought back to the bank robbery, to the first time he had met the Cowl in person. So, this was just like old times. He tightened his grip around Conroy's chest, letting just a fraction of superstrength leak out. Even with the too-long cloak flapping around his head, he heard a rib crack and Conroy yelp in pain.

  The conference room had been fifty stories up. Tony's intention was to kill Conroy, but he wanted to do it with his own hands. As soon as he had broken through the floor he'd spun onto his back, holding Conroy above him as he pushed himself downwards, flying through floor after floor after floor, rending steel-reinforced concrete like tissue paper. He wanted Conroy dead, but he also wanted to frighten him a little first, terrorize him as he had done to the good people of San Ventura when he had been wearing the hooded mask, the famous cowl that had given him his name and that Tony now wore himself. Tony was pleased with the irony.

  Twenty floors and the whole building shook. Positioned above Tony, Conroy had escaped major injury, but the flying debris that swarmed around the pair as they crashed through the building caught his legs and arms. Already his new costume was dirty and beaten. Tony assumed that he was now completely unpowered, which meant no matter how impenetrable the armor was, it wouldn't stop Conroy from hurting.

  Twenty-five floors. They weren't alone. Tony was looking directly upwards over Conroy's shoulder. Above, the red glowing form of Aurora, arm outstretched as he flew downwards, his speed flaring his ever-present energy aura into a comet tail. From this distance, Tony could still see the smug smile, the blank white eyes, and the flaming hair pulled into the trail.

  Farther up, a flickering, diffuse blue glow that hid whatever it was that made it. But it was growing bigger − Tony assumed it was the Dragon Star, or one of the other energy-based heroes.

  Aurora and the blue glow were getting closer. Thirty floors. Tony put the gas on and sped away and downwards, the next floor exploding as he pushed through it. Faster. Forty floors, forty-five floors, then… space.

  Tony swore and jerked a look behind him. Had he miscounted? No, it was the atrium, a five-story-high space filled with prismatic light. Which meant the next impact was going to be the big one.

  The air around Tony and Conroy flashed red. Tony looked back up, and saw Aurora gathering energy from his comet tail and throwing plasma balls. But not
at
Tony,
behind
him. The plasma took a few seconds to dissipate and with careful timing, Aurora was managing to place them so the expanding globes hit Tony from behind, quite effectively keeping his hostage from harm. For Tony it was only a minor inconvenience, but it stopped him from concentrating. Which, he realized too late, was entirely the point.

  Tony was also right about the next impact. This was the atrium floor, street level, the concrete thicker and laid onto a stronger steel framework that provided ground level support. Tony twisted and took the impact with a shoulder instead of his back. The shockwave vibrated through him to Conroy, who cried out in surprise and pain. But Tony didn't let the floor stop him, he powered downwards, rubble exploding out from around him. Two lower levels, much like the ones above, then space again. Tony was in unknown territory now, with no idea how far down the Citadel sublevels went. But he wanted to reach the bottom, and then bring the entire structure down on the Cowl. Flashy, theatrical, unnecessary. The perfect death for the last supervillain on Earth.

  The space through which they fell confused Tony, so he turned to the vertical and slowed their descent to get a look. They were in another open chamber, larger than the atrium above but a similar shape. At floor level, the circular walls were lined with large blue server cabinets, LED indicators flickering red and green. From the ceiling hung various arms, chains, harnesses in a dozen different sizes and shapes, clawed arms and mobile platforms. The floor itself was mostly empty space, with only a few wheeled trolleys and cabinets scattered around. It looked like some kind of laboratory or, more accurately, a factory floor.

  The workshop was illuminated evenly and brightly by a large circular portal in one wall. At three stories high, it was a brilliant white and yellow swirl of light and heat. The green metal door, three yards thick at least, was ajar. In front of the maelstrom, far too close for any normal person to be able to stand the heat, stood an old-fashioned blacksmith's anvil, and a bath of quenching oil. Tony realized where they were – the workshop of Hephaestus. Everyone in the city had heard of it, although none had seen it. It was too dangerous, nobody except the superheroes − and even then only four out of the seven − could enter the workshop. This was the Nuclear Forge where Hephaestus made superhero weaponry and armor. Where he had designed, shaped and hammered a robotic superhero, SMART, into being.

  Tony touched down gently, releasing his bear hug around Conroy but keeping hold of him by one arm. Conroy didn't struggle as he was too busy shielding his face from the furnace. Tony wondered how long it would be before Conroy succumbed to the radiation, and then it occurred to him that he wasn't even sure he was safe himself. This wasn't the best place for a fight. If he brought the Citadel crashing down on top of his enemy, the furnace would go up and take out the entire city. That certainly wasn't the intention.

  "Justiciar!"

  Tony looked up and then dragged his hostage backwards, towards the Forge. Aurora swept down, hitting the spot where Tony had stood with one knee, cratering the workshop floor. He stood immediately as SMART descended on its blue rocket motors behind him. Tony looked at them both from under his hood, the famous cowl fluttering in the hot wind thundering from the open Forge behind him.

  Aurora took a step forward, but seeing Tony retreat an equal distance, stopped and stepped backwards. He held a hand out, but not in anger.

  "Tony, we must leave the workshop. The radiation level is too high for normal people. You and Paragon are in great danger if you do not leave now."

  Aurora was one of the heroes who
could
enter the workshop. Hell, he could take a walk through the furnace, which would do nothing but recharge his energy aura. SMART was built here; the Forge was its home.

  But maybe Aurora was right. Tony felt beads of sweat sliding down his forehead under his mask. He didn't sweat, not anymore, not since he became a superman. Seems he wasn't radiation-proof. Conroy practically hung from his grip, his legs bowed and eyes half-closed. A few more minutes and he'd be unconscious, the radiation poisoning irreversible. Paragon? Now there was a crappy superhero name.

  This wasn't the plan. The plan had to be spectacular, historic.

  Aurora spoke again, but Tony wasn't listening. He was looking up at the angled ceiling of the workshop, estimating a route. He swung Conroy by the arm, curling him into his chest, and launched himself at a seventy-degree angle. Fist held in front, Tony split the ceiling of the workshop and powered upwards.

Aurora and SMART watched his flight until the rubble from the ceiling stopped falling, but neither launched to follow. A shard of sunlight from the street above stabbed downwards, spotlighting Hephaestus' anvil.

  Aurora touched his ear. "Hephaestus, the workshop is breached. Seal the damage to prevent contamination of the city. SMART and I will be in pursuit."

  The communication crackled, reception affected by the radiation. Eventually the Greek's deep bass answered in the affirmative.

  Aurora aimed for the ceiling breach, and looked over his shoulder at SMART.