I watched a truly huge armored robot unfold from inside a truck-trailer shell. Straightening, it stood at least three stories tall.
“Astra?” Seven responded. “I think you should focus on our guest.”
In the wagon, Villain-X popped his Blacklock titanium restraints like they were ordinary policeman’s cuffs and started working on the cage. Watching his brightening infrared signature, I started giggling. “Guys? He’s been repossessed.”
“Understood,” Lei Zi said dryly. “He’s your job, Astra; we have more incoming.”
“So are we,” Galatea sang out. The yellow flare of her jet-boots lit the dark sky as she dropped from the DSA helicopter. Above her, I could see the gold sparkle of Variforce’s field morphing into hang-glider wings as he descended more slowly.
“Flash Mob, fifteen, maybe twenty dupes closing on our position,” Platoon reported. “Two unidentified villains.”
“Platoon, defense perimeter,” Lei Zi called. “Seven and Quin inside. Variforce and Iron Jack on Tin Man. Galatea, reserve.”
Automatic fire erupted as our ten-man Platoon bailed out of the escort vehicles and opened up on Flash Mob’s psychotic screaming dupes. A bone-grinding scream ripped the air. “New villains identified,” Platoon said. “Shriek: focused sonic attack. Swarm: micro-particle cloud form, toxic attack.”
“Astra? Update?” Lei Zi asked. Titanium bars screamed in protest as Villain-X twisted them. He laughed at me.
“Villain-X will be in the open momentarily,” I said, gripping Malleus (Latin for hammer; Shell’s insistent suggestion, and I couldn’t think of a better name for Ajax’ weapon).
“Do what you can.”
Both the restraints and the cage had been rated for Villain-X’s known strength; his demon-possessed strength was a different story, but we hadn’t counted on Hecate’s demons repossessing him remotely. What else could go wrong?
The air filled with rotting carrion stench as a flesh-shrouded, iron clawed Devourer twisted into existence above the street.
“Oh, come on!”
Lei Zi saw it. “Galatea, target the demon—light it up! Team Two, you are clear to go!”
Galatea’s missile-launch filled the air with smoking trails, but Villain-X occupied my attention as the stressed bars gave up and he lunged out of the wagon. I swung and knocked him to the street. He bounced up and ducked under my back-swing, still laughing. Using my swing for spin, I kicked him in the head.
It didn’t slow him down, but he grabbed me from the front. Big mistake—his brains had to be cooking. I threw us down, shattered pavement flying as I landed on him and thrust with my knees. He let go as I pinned him against the street, screamed, and swung.
The crunch ran up my arm and he went limp, boneless. Dead? I couldn’t hear a heartbeat over the avalanching explosions and auto-fire, but at least he was out. Launching myself, I scanned the field. Dad pounded on the giant robot’s legs while Variforce, surrounded by glowing layers of articulated force-field armor, scaled the thing to shatter plates with a force-field jackhammer. Lei Zi threw ball-lightning at Flash Mob, and everyone else seemed on it. For a micro-second, I worried about what Team Two was facing. Focus.
“I’m clear!” I called.
Then Shriek’s sonic attack howled and Variforce’ golden armor disintegrated, ground away. “Down to six,” Platoon announced as he fell back. Flash Mob’s duplicates attacked like killing was the most fun they could have in their brief existences. Shredded by Galatea’s missiles, the Devourer wailed but didn’t stop as it reached for Fisher. He stood in the street, calmly firing back with no effect. Could a projection kill a projection? Up the street, The Harlequin disappeared inside a human-shaped particle cloud. A second scream pounded the DSA car Lei Zi crouched behind.
“Report, Astra,” Dispatch cut in. “Lei Zi is down; do we have a Charley Foxtrot?”
Charley Foxtrot; the polite term for what the military called an engagement screwed up beyond all recognition.
“I—” How should I know? What could I do?
“… Charley Foxtrot!” I confirmed, diving for the Devourer. We needed Team Two.
“Charley Foxtrot,” Dispatch said. “Stand by for Team Two redeploy—”
“Wait!” I shouted. Four figures dressed in blue fatigues appeared on the street in a flare of light. One leaped into the air, and another threw a ball of crackling energy—at Shriek. The flyer rammed into Tin Man.
“Abort Foxtrot!” I shouted. “Seven, help Quin. Iron Jack, support Variforce—”
“My field is stabilizing,” Variforce cut in.
“Iron Jack, stay on Tin Man! Variforce, with me! Galatea, backup Platoon. Fisher! Run!”
I hit the Devourer with the paddywagon.
Penetration missiles hadn’t done much, but ten tons of armored truck pinned it to the street and its ululating scream pounded my ears. The fuel tank ruptured, drowning its rotten