Heatstroke 10.x
"…Now, regarding the recent movements of the Revengers…"
Thomas Calvert sighed, even if the effect was ruined by dint of only being able to do it in one of his dual timelines. He did not need to hear about the movements of the very team of capes he had hired to do his more obvious dirty work. He already knew them in greater detail than the fools running the PRT ever would.
Sadly, he could not completely ignore these blowhards, not without risk to his position as team leader of the Chicago PRT. A small risk, but a risk nonetheless. It was why he had the meeting on speakerphone here at his base while he was planning out his men's next mission, and in his disposable timeline he had even deigned to attend in person. It was in that timeline, of course, that he could not show his utter lack of interest.
The door to the PRT conference room opened, and an assistant of some such scurried in. "S-S-Sorry to interrupt, sir, but there's a situation… Um…"
Rather than snap at the sniveling peon, Director Carpenter waved him into the room. "Speak up, son. What's going wrong now?"
"A building in Englewood just exploded." The various team leaders and administrators leaned in to listen more carefully, and even Thomas found himself concerned in both timelines. Englewood? That was where he had stuffed Bakuda and set her to making more of her bombs. Had she finally gone off the reservation as he had half-expected her to do? "The reports are… really weird. Black holes and ice and other things."
"It sounds like someone stumbled onto Bakuda's workshop, then. Thank you, Simmons." The aide rushed back out, and Carpenter turned to face Thomas. "Calvert, get a couple of teams together. I want PRT presence there five minutes ago."
Of course, in the timeline he was going to keep, the words were slightly different. "Murphy, get a couple of teams together. I want boots on the ground five minutes ago. We'll resume the meeting once this matter has been resolved."
Finally. In his base he hung up the phone while in the PRT building he gave the Director a nod and made his way from the conference room near the top of the building to the elevator that would take him to the garage. He pulled up a list on his office computer of which of his agents were working that day. He could not permit Bakuda to be brought into custody. Considering the unstable woman's narcissism and ego, the chances of her folding and revealing anything to the PRT would normally be minimal, but Carpenter had a damnable sort of charisma that had converted more than one villain who would otherwise be bound for prison.
He also called the team leaders of his mercenaries to come to his office. His base was closer to Bakuda's workshop than the PRT building, so they would be able to reach her and pick her up before the PRT could get there. She would undoubtedly be livid about being found, which would only serve to drive her deeper into his pocket. Or, if it turned out she had not been discovered and had just been playing around, it would give him the opportunity to discipline her for being so reckless.
The elevator dinged and opened, and he stepped out to find a small knot of agents forming in front of him. He called out several of the members and organized them into three teams. "Cavanaugh, Young, Lovins, Desmuch, you four with me. Let's move, people."
Everyone scattered into trucks, and he followed his men into the back of one as well. "What's the plan?" asked Desmuch when the door was closed and the recording devices placed in every PRT vehicle as a Master-Stranger precaution were shut down. Lovins put the truck into gear and followed after the others out of the garage, his eyes still looking back at them through the rearview mirror.
"Carpenter thinks it might be Bakuda's workshop that exploded. If that's the case, we pick her up and take a detour to let her out. She threatened to detonate failsafes she has hidden through the city and I decided it was better to release her so those bombs could be found and disarmed rather than risking innocent bystanders. While I'm handling her 'arrest', find out who found her and set off a confrontation. We need them painted as villains—"
Orange light flashed in his office, and before he could blink the spots out of his eyes an intense heat brushed over his face. It was enough that his mask actually caught fire. He screamed in shock and surprise and shoved himself away from his desk to rip the head of his bodysuit off before the flames could burn his eyes.
"Hey there, Coil," a young woman's voice said in a mocking voice. "I'm sorry, or is it… Thomas Calvert?" He looked up to meet the intruder's eyes only for his mouth to drop slightly. In his office was that Hebert girl and her pet Case 53, an energy blade attached to the side of her staff. Her he could manage, but next to her was the true elephant in the room. Chevalier had his trademark cannonblade braced against his shoulder. "It's so hard to keep your identities straight—"
He severed that timeline and took a couple of deep breaths from the safety of the PRT van in what was meant to be his disposable timeline. Chevalier. If the head of the Philadelphia Protectorate was involved, that could only mean that the truth of his identity was out. Carpenter would not have sent him into the field if the PRT directors knew, but it was only a matter of time before the information spread, and there was no way he could get ahead of it.
"Boss?"
"Change of plans," he said, projecting confidence to his men. That was the problem with mercenaries; they would only follow so long as they knew their employer would and could keep paying them. He knew that from personal experience. How many people had he turned on once it became obvious that no matter what happened his employer at the time would be arrested or killed and leave him out in the cold? "Heroes just broke into the base. Head to the nearest safehouse outside city limits. We will regroup once everyone else arrives. Deactivate all the tracking mechanisms in the truck in the meantime."
That would keep them in line for the moment. As soon as he was no longer in immediate danger, he could kill them all as quickly as possible before moving on. He had a number of false identities to choose from when it was safe.
Run. Adopt a new identity. Salvage as many of his resources as possible. Then and only then would he stop to plan anew.
The fastest way to the safehouse was via the interstate, and he relaxed slightly when they had merged with the rest of the traffic. That calm was shattered when they had to pass through the toll booth. This was exactly how the PRT had been able to capture Mockshow when she animated one of their vehicles, by detecting her crossing through a toll booth early in the morning when no one human was watching.
The timelines split.
"Get us off the freeway," he told Lovins in one of them. "The next exit, get us to another road out of the city that doesn't have tolls."
In the other, he kept his silence. The PRT probably would not even think to track them this way, and even if they did, it would happen after they were too far away for that to give their pursuers more than a general direction.
"Um, Commander? What's that?"
He leaned forwards to see what Lovins was talking about. Above I-55 a shimmer in the sky faded to reveal a gunmetal grey aircraft with a red and orange dragon head painted on the nose.
That bitch had Dragon involved in this too?!
The dragon's mouth glowed a bright blue, and bolts of light rained down on the asphalt right in front of them. Lovins had no time to stop before a trio of laser blasts blew holes in the hood of the truck. Orange light shined inside the back from the windows mounted inside the rear doors, and he closed that timeline as soon as he caught sight of the witch's hat.
The timelines split.
"Go to the airport," he told one set of men while the rest stayed on Highway 50. They were moving towards the next interstate, so if they could just get there they could lose themselves in the traffic. And this time, there would be no way for Hebert to find them.
They were halfway to I-290 and approaching the Midway airport in the two respective timelines when a dark-clad figure landed on the surface of Highway 50. "Idiot," he said with a tight sneer. "Run. Her. Over."
"Yes, sir."
The girl shifted slightly, and a tiny ball of light appeared. Did she really think she could stop them with that?
The light raced towards them, and it was no longer a dot. It was an ever-growing circle that had now reached the same width as the road, and it was then that they drove into it. The truck vanished around them, and he screamed as the left side of his face was ripped apart by molten steel.
The timelines split.
"The airport is too exposed," he told the men. "Take us by residential roads toward I-55 again. We'll backtrack and find another way out of the city."
"Are you sure, sir? We're almost to the airport already."
"I know that! Get us out of here!"
The mercenaries looked at each other, and he worried that he would have to drop this timeline already. Rather than continue arguing, however, Lovins turned the wheel and directed them down some little two-lane road. In the car still moving towards the airport, he rubbed his temples. Hebert was persistent, that much was sure, but even with Dragon her ability to find him had to be limited. It was just not possible for her to stay on top of him.
Due to the comparative speeds of the two trucks, it was no surprise that the one headed for the airport made it to its goal while the other had barely left that road. He jumped out of the truck as soon as possible and ripped off his tie to stuff it in his jacket. He would need to buy the first ticket he could find and move on from there. The only blessing in this entire thing was that the PRT could not have frozen his accounts already, so purchasing the ticket would not be an issue.
A click came from behind him, and the mercenaries opened fire.
It was difficult to swallow, but somehow he managed it and did not even give the others any obvious looks of fear. Obviously the men were becoming suspicious, which meant they would not take long to turn on him.
The timelines split.
"Head to the Ford City Mall."
"Pull over."
The men in the first truck did as he ordered, but in the second Young gave him a suspicious glance. "Why?"
"The van is too suspicious. We'll find another car, hotwire it, and get out of town that way. Something is happening at the PRT base, and I want to be far away before it can reach us."
"What's the plan when we get to the mall?" Young asked in the timeline when his men were not disobeying him.
"Get a new vehicle and new clothes. If need be, we can split up and meet at the safehouse independently." By which time he would be well away from all of them. It was looking like it was too dangerous to continue as a group. If he could leave them in the mall, all the better.
The second truck slowed to a stop next to an unremarkable minivan, and the five of them climbed out. With no need for subtlety, Cavanaugh broke the window of the driver's door and unlocked it. "Won't take me a minute to get it started."
Good, good. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the car. His building headache throbbed in time with the thump-thump-thump growing louder overhead. Opening his eyes, he looked for the source only for more bright blue lasers to fall on top of them.
Thomas squeezed his eyes shut, as much because of the pain stabbing into the back of his head as because of frustration. What the hell was he supposed to do?!
The timelines split.
"Pull over."
"Why?"
"Because I said so, dammit!" The three men in back with him slowly moved their hands towards their guns, and that was the last straw. He grabbed his pistol and put a bullet in Desmuch's head before dropping the timeline and watching the buildings pass by as they headed towards the mall.
Fucking bitch. He was going to find her and kill her with his own two hands.
The truck took the turn onto the road leading to the parking lot, and Fate proved once again that she had abandoned him in favor of the Hebert cunt. A white-hot energy blast punched through the hood of the truck. They skidded to a halt, and he looked out the window to once more find Hebert, this time with her pet floating beside her.
The timelines split.
"Shoot them down!"
His mercenaries grabbed their guns and jumped out, bullets flying at the pair. A ball of light formed at the tip of her staff, and once more fire melted the world.
The timelines split.
"Run!"
Doors were flung open, and Thomas along with the other men jumped out of the car and started running. There were too many of them for the girl to take down at once, and if he could somehow get away…
He chanced a look back and saw several energy blasts flying at all the men simultaneously, and one of them came straight at him. He dived to the side only for it to smash into the side of his head, cutting off that timeline as well.
"Commander? What's the plan?" asked Cavanaugh. All four mercenaries watched him, and he knew that he was in nearly as much danger inside this truck as he would be outside.
He forced the pain from his fully grown migraine to the side. Without answering, he opened the back doors and stepped out. Hebert slowly flew closer.
The timelines split.
He grabbed his pistol and raised it to fire. A ball of light flicked down and exploded in his face.
This was it, wasn't it? He slowly drew his pistol, and while Hebert once again created a cluster of energy blasts, they stayed put in their lazy orbits when he threw the gun to the side. She waved her hand in an unmistakeable signal, and without any other choice he lowered himself to the ground with his hands up in the air.
"The rest of your men, too," she ordered.
The timelines split.
Pitching his voice low, he told the men, "Get out and shoot her." Young and Desmuch shared a look, then Young lifted his sidearm and shot him in the stomach.
That timeline was dropped, and he held back the urge to scream impotently. How?! How could this all have gone so wrong?! "Get out. We're done," he said, his voice resigned. He thought the mercenaries would once more rebel from the expressions on their faces, but they left the safety of the truck and laid down on the ground. Clearly they had no intentions of fighting this little girl of their own accord.
"… worry about Coil ever again. I have him right where I want him." Hebert came closer, and the smirk she wore made him wish he still had his gun so he could try once more to put a bullet in her fucking face. "On his knees."
And DONE. Whew. As the final prize, pick a spell for Taylor to learn.
