SG: Aurora #45 - Above and Beyond (Part Five of Nine)

[Frobozz]

CONTINUED FROM PART FOUR

    "Now!" whispered Peterson over his commo before shouldering his
rifle, closing the commo link. He was now completely alone. Many of his
men had sacrificed their safety and perhaps their lives to draw off the
enemy for this, and Peterson did not intend to let their sacrifice go to
waste. Whatever happened, he would make it count. He owed everyone...
-everyone-... this one moment. With a savage kick, Peterson knocked open
the door he had been waiting near, waiting for all the pieces of the
puzzle to align themselves.
    Clarisse screamed in shocked surprise as the door to the main control
room crumpled under the force of a Tornado suit working on overdrive.
Barreling through the space that had moments ago held a door, Peterson's
sidearm swivelled to cover everyone in the control room.
    "Hands on your heads," he growled over the suit's loudspeaker. "Now.
First person who makes any other move finds out whether or not they like
life better as Swiss cheese."
    Six people moved to cover their heads. But before they did, each of
them glanced towards a seventh. That was what Peterson had expected, and
that was exactly what Peterson had wanted. He shifted the sidearm to
cover the girl who couldn't possibly have been more than fifteen,
narrowing gaze as he drew his bead.
    "Raise them," he repeated to the girl. "Or I end this right here,
right now, the easy and messy way."
    "Of course," replied the young woman in a mature voice that
constrasted sharply with her youthful, cherubic smile. Slowly she raised
her hands, then paused as they reached the level of her face. "You seem
to have us, don't you?"
    "Seem to," replied Peterson. "Do. You know I'm ready to shoot. You
don't know how sick and tired I am of this fight, but trust me, my
patience? Not quite what it was ten days ago. You have three seconds.
Three... two... one."
    With barely any of the hesitation he thought he would feel, Peterson
pulled the trigger. At the same time, the girl snapped her fingers.
    The rifle turned to dust in Peterson's hands.
    "Crap," sighed Peterson, staring at his now empty gloves. The girl
lowered her hands.
    "You didn't think I was defenseless, did you sir?" she asked in a
chilled voice. "Because I knew that you and your 'heroic' kind on this
world were idiots. But," Her eyes turned hard as ice, her gaze sharp
enough to cut glass. "Really, that's just -insulting-."
    Peterson tried to grasp the element of surprise again, and charge at
the girl while she was still talking. Even without a gun, a suit of
Tornado armour could end this, albeit in a way more grisley than
Peterson would have wanted.
    Sadly, the element of surprise seemed to be a one-time offer today.
Despite his best efforts, Peterson found himself unable to move an inch.
    "I am certain my guards will be back shortly to deal with you soon,"
said the girl, clasping her hands behind her back as she began to circle
Peterson. "And if they are not, well, I have others on the way. Many
others, mister Peterson." She smiled as she paused behind him, then gave
in to a childish whim and shoved against the inert armour. "Enough to
win this for us."
    She sighed, completing her orbit to stand in front of the statue-like
trooper once more. "You really did believe that you could come here and
end it all yourself, didn't you?"
    "Maybe," replied Peterson grudgingly.
    "Typical. Your kind always does."
    "My kind?"
    "Yes. Oh, Mister Peterson, we -have- been watching you for the
longest time. We know that there is an our kind, and there is a your
kind, and as it stands the two are not... shall we say... compatible?
    "We've not come to take your world for our own aggrandizement, mister
Peterson."
    "Then why, exactly?"
    She shrugged, skipping back a step. "If you knew of a colony of the
insane, who possessed toys beyond their capacity and powers beyond their
wisdom, what would you do, Mister Peterson? Would you let them be? No,
no of course you wouldn't. Would you kill them like curs? No, you
wouldn't do that either; that would be barbaric beyond belief. But if
they could be -helped-... what would you do then?"
    "Oh Elvis," whispered Peterson, suddenly wishing that he could move,
even just enough to trigger his missile system. It would be messy and he
was pretty sure he wouldn't make it through the blast of even a single
launch, but it would be worth the sacrifice. "You're justifing invasion
on the grounds of -insanity-? Is it me, or am I -not- the crazy one
here?"
    "Not justifying," replied the girl cooly. "Justified. As I hope you
will agree. But..." She pursed her lips. "Sadly, I don't think that
you'll be surviving long enough to understand."

***

    Gravity was a harsh mistress, but Gladiator had served worse in his
time. Barreling into the ground hurt, but it got him far enough from
Vedding that the wounds were minor. Better still, with distance the
damage that he'd accrued from the previous battle was already healing.
Taking a mighty leap, Gladiator hurled himself from the pit he'd created
for himself and surveyed the landscape.
    Oh good, he thought as a smirk grew on his lips. -Someone- had
rallied this world's defenders to the cause. A small tent city of sorts
had formed around the Beanstalk and at least some of the world's
mightiest had been gathered here to wait for their powers to be needed.
    No doubt that his target would be here, thought Gladiator. No doubt
Superguy would be amongst them. The man's purity would be like a beacon
to Gladiator and his lack of guilt would only strengthen the demon's
powers. Yes, he would relish crushing Superguy and taking his place as
this world's strongest warrior. But first there was the rabble.
    The waiting had taken days, and no one could remain on alert for that
long. Rest, food and distraction were needed. Very few of the teams that
had responded to Aurora's call were fully assembled, as members stole
off to hotels to catch some rest, shower and eat while others stayed on
alert and waited to be needed. Most of them were not quite ready for a
battle to just -begin- as several days of an unchanging situation had
led to more than one card game, cat nap or 'I'll be back in JUST a
second, who wants some jerky?' munchy run.
    Thus, Gladiator had the element of surprise and he intended to press
it as firmly as possible before this -rabble- could organize against
him. The heroes were already starting to respond to the sound of his
crash, so Gladiator decided to strike fast, hard and immediately.
Fortunately, there were improvised missiles enough dislodged by his
fall, and Gladiator picked up the largest chunk of rock that he could
find. Taking just a moment to aim, the demon hurled it at a warrior
wearing the most -garish- purple tights with 'matching' orange cape. It
slammed into the unsuspecting figure who was dressed to make himself a
target, knocking him back towards the tent city.
    A woman amongst the group let out a scream of fury at the attack, but
Gladiator pushed his advantage before the group could galvanize. There
were stones aplenty scattered around and while the demon was no
speedster, he was more than fast enough to wing a deadly volley of rocks
at the metahumans who had scrambled into their rank and file. A large,
shaggy -- and oddly flying -- dog was sent flying backwards to follow
the man whose offensive powers must have been derived from his
dress-sense, while several of the others arrayed before the Gladiator
simply fell down at the onslaught.
    Good, thought Gladiator as he surveyed the carnage. That would even
the odds enough. He grinned as those still standing charged him. He
could feel pride aplenty from his opponents. So many of them were
convinced that -they- were the line which stood between right and wrong,
good and evil. Pride always began with such innocent devotion to the
greater good, but the nature of the beast was that it grew until it
could blind virtue with vainglory.
    And as it grew, so too did Gladiator's power. With a snarl, the demon
waded into the fray. He vowed that blood would be spilled this day, and
in the countless years that he had been alive, Gladiator had never
broken his vow.

***

    Now. It was all going to end now.
    And he couldn't do a thing to stop it.
    The attack had ripped through the bolthole with a savagery for which
he could have been neither anticipated nor prepared. He had no idea
whether his two companions were alive or dead. He wasn't sure whether he
himself was still really alive, or just a ghost in the machine waiting
to completely disassociate.
    He couldn't even fully remember who he was. He knew that there were
regrets. He knew that there was something important in his life that had
been left undone. But beyond that, there was nothing familiar about
himself to hang onto. Nothing but agony and the knowledge that the enemy
was going to win. It was going to win, and everything he sensed that he
had done (which felt like quite a bit), every sacrifice that he had made
(he'd swear to having made more than a few, even if he didn't know what
they were), every loss he had ever felt (lots of those too) would be
meaningless. Even more meaningless than they already were, devoid of
context, perhaps forever.
    Then he remembered one thing more, that there was still one hope.
There was still one last, desperate action that could be taken; a plan
that had been made but never used. It was time to use it.
    Go, he whispered to the others who might or might not be around to
hear him. For all he knew, the other two had already gone ahead into
that good night and were waiting for him to follow. Go, he whispered
louder, throwing all of his desperation and determination into the
sending. Don't argue with me; there isn't time, and I'm in no mood right
now.
    Remember me, he whispered as he prepared to do what must be done.
Remember me and build something -amazing- out of the world that demands
this.
    He thought he could hear an acknowledgement in the digital winds that
whipped around him, but he couldn't be sure. It didn't much matter, but
he was glad that there was some hope to hang onto in this last moment.
    The dying Computer Intelligence executed the code that had been
created by two of the three who had hidden in the bolthole. He had only
a moment as the flesh reckoned (and an eternity as the machine did) to
wait for it to go to work. He spent that time well, trying to recall
everything about his life that he could.
    In the end, there was enough to remember. Just enough that he knew he
was doing the right thing.
    And then the network heaved migtily before suffering a massive,
cascading crash. And he remembered no more.

***

CONTINUED IN PART SIX

---
-Chris
frobozz at eyrie.org
http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz

Geek Code
GFA/IT/PA d-(+) s--:+> a- C++ UL*++ P+++ L++
E W++ N+ !o !K w++(-) O? M++ V? PS+ PE Y PGP
t+ 5++ X+ R+++ tv+ b+++ DI+ D++ G e++>+++ h- r* z?