The Post-Humans (Book 1): The League (34 page)

Ian smiled and nodded. “Yeah, but Ath-Dog, you were a creative badass when you were a kid.”

“What the hell happened?” Cynthia teased Athan.

They would often discuss art and argue about what was considered beautiful. Ian preferred his video games.

He loved video games.

A tap on steel ended the conversation; it was the signal that Brad had told them to listen for.

Ian rolled up his sleeves, Athan straightened his tie and Cynthia rolled the silk gloves off her arms. It was time for their surprise break in.

Athan, Ian and Cynthia were to enter the warehouse by the back and prevent any of the criminals from escaping. Brad, Cal and Kiranda were going to use the front door and draw most of the attention.

“Let’s go. Cynthia you get the door, I’ll cover you. Ian, you do your thing and get into the action, or prevent it, whichever.” Athan said nodding to each of his comrades.

The League’s members didn’t wear special costumes but concealing features was a good idea, and they needed to feel comfortable. Ian moved so quickly during missions that no one saw what he was wearing either way. He just worked in jeans and a hooded jumper. The others wore black typically.

“Very specific, mate.” Ian grinned. “I fancy being the first one into the fight tonight, Bro, long time since I’ve played with the opposition.”

Ian watched Cynthia pick the lock with the handy tool kit she kept strapped around her thigh.

He had been trying to convince her that she should wear it around her bare thigh with a pair of stockings and suspenders, but she would just tell him he was a douche, and roll her eyes. All the same, Cynthia was a pretty lady who didn’t mind getting dolled up. To Ian, she was like a femme fatale from the old movies, beautiful, but with a deadly touch.

Cynthia was lucky, she was able to be selective about whether she hurt someone or not. The thought of one day kissing her brought a cheeky smile to his lips.

One day
, he thought.

Ian watched her turn back and give a curt nod, the door was unlocked; it was time for action.

Cynthia stood and holstered her tools before giving the door a small shove.

Athan slid out two pairs of handcuffs and Cynthia stretched her arms out and did a hand twist followed by that awful knuckle cracking thing people do before they undertake an arduous task.

Ian smiled as he shrugged his shoulders and cracked his neck.

Ian loved The League and everything they stood for, a secret war against the corruption of society and a place where his ability to move with supernatural speed was valuable.

“Your move Ian, we’ve got your back, as always,” Athan said grinning at Ian.

Ian’s speed had helped The League win the day many times.

The League worked in a vigilante style, staying clear of the authorities, but they restrained the criminals they could and supplied the evidence.

With this mission The League would handcuff the perpetrators in the base of their drug operation, then when everything was secure they would call it in for the authorities. The police would get the guilty parties along with everything they needed to put them away.

Ian gave a nod and slipped past his friends using his superhuman speed.

The world was suddenly paused.

There was no breeze, no sound and no danger for Ian as long as he kept moving.

The warehouse was frozen like a photograph: people stood motionless and the various machines and computers looked as if they had been paused by a remote control.

Ian scanned the big open space and realized that there must be some kind of dividers or walls because the open space was smaller than it appeared from the outside.

Brad, Cal and Furnace were entering via a confined area, which meant that they were going to be detected before they actually made it into the main warehouse. Ian looked for what he could do to help his friends.

Guns, he looked for men holding guns.

He counted nine, which couldn’t be right. This was a raid; these guys were armed as if they knew Post-Human vigilantes were about to burst in.

Something didn’t feel right.

He needed to get his people to withdraw. He turned back to where he had come in and already Sleepwalker and Deadfall were just past the threshold and running in opposite directions to achieve their objectives.

It was too late to change the plan, he would have to try and achieve his original objective.

He made a dash for the closest armed man, who was obviously guarding the men that were packaging the drugs.

He was carrying an AK-47, not the sort of gun you find just hanging around in Australia.

With a glance at each of the other guards he realized that the guns they carried were the same or P-90’s.

These were the kinds of weapons that made stray bullets when everyone was firing. And odds were if the alarm were triggered, the bullets would be whizzing around everywhere.

One of his friends would be hurt.

Using his ability to move lightning fast, he was able to run at the first guard and pull the AK-47 from his calloused fingers, and bringing the stock up, hitting the man square in the face.

When Ian attacked the guard was still looking down at where his hand was, deciding what was happening.

The guard began to fall backwards, inch by inch. By then Ian was already doing the same thing to the next guard.

Then came the vibration that Ian recognized as a gunshot.

Everyone would have heard it, but to Ian it was a vibration of sound waves travelling in a particular direction.

He looked toward the source and found that there were four new guards running across a mezzanine from an office, and one of the guards he had seen before was holding a machine gun in the direction of the doorway where he himself had just come in.

The raid was a fail, they knew that The League was inside.

There where several white flashes on the mezzanine as the men fired their weapons at Athan and Cynthia.

Ian ran through the centre of the warehouse and jumped over the tables where people were bagging up the product and diving for cover. He landed on his feet and headed for the steel steps that led to where the marksmen were.

He could see streaks and ripples in the air between the shooters and Cynthia. There were bullets heading in her direction, but she was turning over a table covered in cardboard, trying to avoid them.

Ian grabbed the first man’s rifle and pulled it from his hands, feeling the man’s trigger finger break in his haste.

He hit the surprised looking face and lifted him over the balcony where he soared down to the concrete floor in slow motion.

He used the gun on the other three.

Pulling the trigger of the AK-47 didn’t feel quite as fulfilling as he imagined; he felt the mechanisms click and pop before the muzzle flash. The guard he shot began dropping his weapon and mouthed a scream that was too slow for Ian to hear.

He tried to fire at the next guard and felt resistance. The gun worked far slower than he could move. He had to let the next bullet find its way to the chamber before it would fire.

Two heads began to turn at the bottom of the steps, a bearded man and a skinny red head, both in flannelette and jeans. The bearded one had a leather jacket.

Finally, the bullet was in the chamber.

Ian pulled the trigger again and listened to the gun’s mechanics and watched the muzzle flash. The bearded man was shot in the chest. The red head watched him collapse with bulging eyes, before Ian swung the gun at the man’s head and sent him sprawling to the ground.

He stopped to observe the rest of the group on the mezzanine; there were still muzzle flashes from guns and the streaks in the air.

Brad was inside and had his pistol aimed at a big man wearing fancy clothes, probably the man in charge. He was yelling something that was too slow for Ian to hear, but he was sure it would be something about surrendering.

The big man seemed to be smiling in reply.

They knew we were coming
, Ian thought again.

Cynthia had left the cover of her table and was wrestling with a guard on the floor, trying to touch his bare skin. Athan was disappearing into the unconscious guard on the floor, and would probably step out of another and handcuff them before they realized he had just vanished.

Cal was doing his usual thing, charging in and punching people.

He had kicked one guy that tried to attack Brad, and the guy was still sliding across the floor. Furnace wasn’t to be seen, which was good. It was her turn for lookout duty.

Gunshots brought cops, and they would be arrested even for doing the right thing if they were caught in a drug lab.

Besides, Furnace’s ability to set everything on fire was great, but she had a nasty habit of destroying evidence with the heat.

Ian felt a small ripple in the air and noticed that Brad hesitated for a second. It wasn’t a gunshot, but it was loud. The front door! It was a big steel sliding door, which someone would have to slam shut from the outside. Ian guessed that it would not be in Furnace’s best interest to lock her friends inside a warehouse full of armed men, especially Athan, who was basically her boyfriend.

Other strange vibrations cut the air, but these Ian knew very well.

Sirens
.

It was time to get out.

Brad kept his gun leveled at the well-dressed man and backed out toward where he came in, yelling in different directions. He was calling an abort, and Ian agreed with his decision.

Things were going south, fast.

Cal and Brad retreated to the front entrance where they had come in, while Athan and Cynthia headed for the door the three of them had used. He wouldn’t get out that door in time.

He felt more of the gunfire in the warehouse and hoped that Brad could get the door open, or that Furnace was able to open it from the outside.

I have to help Brad
, he thought.

Ian looked about frantically and found that the mezzanine office had a window. He sped across the walkway and into the office. There wasn’t time to mess with locks and things. He grabbed a computer monitor and threw it through the glass, watching the shards twist and spin in the air, getting faster and faster. He was tiring; there was a time limit to his ability. He could move at superhuman speed in short bursts without a problem, but he had been moving quickly since they had broken into the warehouse. The spinning shards of glass turned into glittering rain that fell from his view down to the alley below.

Ian climbed through the window frame and let himself drop to the alley floor. Pain shot up both his legs as he landed and he felt a crack in his left foot.

He looked up at where he had come from: near fourteen feet.

Shit
, he thought,
that was a stupid move
.

Getting to his feet, Ian felt that he might have just enough stamina to get help from the others before he would need a hospital.

He hobbled around the back of the building to where he had gone inside originally, and where Athan and Cynthia should have exited.

He could hear gunshots again, outside.

Then he saw them, his friends.

They were fighting off men in uniforms.

PHC
, Ian thought.
No way. How?

There was a roar from behind him and before he could turn, he was thrown several feet across the ground.

He felt an immense pain shooting through his body.

A car had hit him.

He stared up the alley to where Brad and Athan had just taken down one of the PHC officers and wished he were with them.

They were too far away.

Out of reach.

Car doors slammed behind him and footsteps crunched in gravel. Someone lifted him to his knees by his hair.

He looked up at the PHC officer in his smart khaki uniform.

How did these people know to set a trap for us in a drug-making warehouse?

They were here to try and make a difference in society; they weren’t endangering the lives of innocent people.

“And which one might you be?” A dark haired man said as he looked down at the broken young man.

“
Piss off
,” Ian hissed through gritted teeth. He could taste blood.

“I think not. I recognize you, Mr Land. You are on my hit list this evening, along with the rest of your gang. The League, as you people call it, is done, as of today.” The man tugged Ian’s head back roughly.

“You’ll never stop us from making the world better.”

The officer chuckled. “Is that what you are doing? Very grand, Mr Land, but no. You and your kind are just things in the way and right now, you are hindering
my
operation.”

Ian tried to keep a straight face, hiding his pain from the arrogant man.

The PHC officer was young, about his age, but he still managed to loom over him with an air of authority.

“Where are the
others
, Mr Land?” the officer inquired. “Tell me where they are.”

A sense of relief washed over him.

Run
, he thought.
I am doing this for you. This is your chance. Run.

“Never…” Ian hissed. His mouth coated with blood from biting his lip when the car had hit him. His leg burned and ached with pain, and he couldn’t concentrate enough to move quickly.

There was no running away from this, not this time.

“Mr Lucas!” one of the officers said to the man in front of him. “We’ve found them.”

Ian squeezed his eyes closed and restrained a sob.

Run!

“Well,” the PHC officer said looking down at Ian with a smile. “We won’t need you after all.” He withdrew a gun from a holster at his side and cocked it. “See ya, Mr Land.” He leveled the pistol at Ian’s head.

Ian looked into the man’s dark eyes with defiance, but it meant nothing, the man pulled the trigger.

“THE
PEOPLE
ARE watching Mr Harper!”

Dereck stood on a broad square platform with his arms wide open, inviting Athan to approach. Behind Dereck loomed a wall of screens. On each of the screens there was well-dressed person behind a desk.