Ex-Superheroes Page 4

Then I realized the implications of everything Harding had just told me.

  “Wait a minute… that had to have been a gigantic operation,” I said in disbelief. “623 superheroes, dead, all in one day?”

  “It actually occurred over the span of two hours.”

  I stared at him. “You’re fucking KIDDING me.”

  “No.”

  “That’s, like, the D-Day of assassinations!”

  “I’d say that’s accurate.”

  “We’re talking hundreds of killers! Maybe thousands!”

  “At least 623,” Harding said drily.

  “Who’s behind it?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “What the fuck do you mean, ‘you don’t know’?”

  “Of the few assassins we recovered, most were low-level nobodies.”

  “‘Recovered’?”

  “Most of the assassins escaped. The few who didn’t were either killed, or immediately committed suicide when we apprehended them.”

  “No survivors?”

  “None.”

  Which sent me back into another bout of stunned silence.

  Eventually I got out another word: “How?”

  “We’re still sorting that out. Obviously we think there was some kind of inside help on the military side of things, but we haven’t been able to find the guilty parties. Yet. We’re still investigating.”

  “What about the civilian heroes? What did the cops find out?”

  Harding shifted uncomfortably. “We don’t know, and it’s probable we won’t for quite some time. If ever.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about, ‘if ever’?”

  That’s when he dropped the second bomb on me.

  “The assassinations took place 72 hours ago. As of 48 hours ago, every major city on Earth is no longer ruled by civilian governments. They’re now controlled exclusively by supervillains.”

  I stared at him. “What?!”

  “They’ve basically instituted martial law and created individual city-states, run by superpowered warlords.”

  “You’re telling me Washington DC is run by – ”

  “Death Rattle, Vestix, and a couple of lower henchmen.”

  “The United States government is GONE?!” I exclaimed.

  “Not at all. They’re just not in control of the city anymore. The president, the vice president, the cabinet, Congress and the Supreme Court – they’ve all been moved to secret locations in rural America. The government is fully functional, just…” Harding shrugged. “Powerless.”

  “Let me get this straight: everybody in Congress is still alive, but all the superheroes are dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Motherfuckers killed the wrong people, then,” I muttered. “What about all the people in the occupied cities?”

  “Mostly alive.”

  “‘Mostly’?”

  “After taking control, the villains broadcast messages saying that anyone trying to leave the city would be killed, but anyone who stayed would be safe. Obviously, people panicked and tried to flee. Unfortunately, they clogged up the interstates, creating massive traffic jams. That’s when the villains came out and slaughtered thousands of people until everybody else got the message. Now all the civilians are huddled in submission, terrified to lift a finger against the warlords.”

  “Everybody’s going to starve to death, then,” I said. “Hell, they’ll die of thirst when the water runs out.”

  Harding shook his head. “In general, the supervillains have made a concerted effort to keep day-to-day operations flowing smoothly. The power’s on, the garbage is being collected, the stores are open, trucks are still delivering food cross-country. In fact, at least in America, every single city hall is still functioning. It’s just that they’re taking their marching orders from somewhere else now.”

  I scoffed. “Criminals must be having a field day.”

  “Interestingly enough, crime has dropped to almost non-existent levels. There was a significant wave of looting when the supervillains took over – until they killed all the looters. That stopped that. Now there are roving bands of lesser-powered villains patrolling the city. Anyone caught in the act of any crime is summarily executed. Well, except for the villains themselves, of course. They do whatever they want. But everyone else stays in line, or they die.” Harding smiled grimly. “It’s like Saudi Arabia on steroids. If you steal an apple, they don’t chop off your hand – they shoot you in the back of the head.”

  “Why are they going to such lengths to keep order? Supervillains aren’t really known for that.”

  “It’s far easier to maintain control when criminals aren’t running rampant and the population isn’t in hysterics. Also, keeping everyone under lock and key was actually a brilliant strategic move. They now have anywhere from 5 to 20 million hostages per city. We can’t bomb them. We can’t exactly invade our own cities with tanks. In fact, the supervillains have made it clear: if the military tries to take out even one warlord, a thousand people in every occupied city on Earth will die every hour, on the hour, until we retreat. If we raise even a finger against them, hundreds of thousands of people will die. Maybe millions.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “Why not just steal a couple of trillion dollars and call it a day?”

  “Having all the money in the world is worthless if there’s no place to spend it. They didn’t want a world full of chaos where they’d have to live on deserted islands, and they didn’t want to be hunted down after they killed the heroes – so they took over the world instead and made it their own.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Somebody really smart planned all of this.”

  Harding nodded. “Now all you have to do is find out who.”

  I looked up, startled. “What do you mean, ‘all you have to do’?”

  “You didn’t think I pulled you in here just to brief you on the end of the world, did you? There’s a reason you’re here, McNeil.”

  “Which is what, exactly?”

  “We need you to infiltrate one of the crime syndicates and find out who organized this.”

  “Why me?”

  “You’re a criminal. All that’s left in the world now is criminals.” He smiled grimly. “You’ll fit right in.”

  “So you’re going to let me go… so I can go undercover?”

  “Now you’ve got the idea.”

  I thought about not bringing it up so I could potentially take advantage later, but this was Harding we were talking about. He wasn’t stupid. He’d have a contingency plan for everything. “What makes you think I won’t just bug out the second I get a chance?”

  Harding gestured to Hot Chick. “Lt. Smith here will be your handler.”

  I laughed out loud. “What? Seriously? You want me to go deep undercover with a fuckin’ noob?”

  Hot Chick got visibly angry but didn’t say anything.

  Harding did the talking for her. “The lieutenant is a highly trained tactical specialist – ”

  “She’s a nobody,” I interrupted. “Otherwise she would have gotten whacked three days ago along with all the others. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  The red in Hot Chick’s cheeks faded, and she looked down at the floor with an almost palpable sense of shame.

  I felt a little bad laying it all out like that, but fuck it. These people wanted me to put my dick on the chopping block with nothing but a greenhorn for backup? Fuck that shit.

  Harding wasn’t moved. “Regardless, she’s part of the deal – precisely because I don’t trust you not to bug out the second you get a chance.”

  I laughed ruefully. “So you want me to go undercover with a bunch of killers to find out who engineered the worldwide assassination of hundreds of superheroes, with nobody but a fuckin’ rookie on my six. Why the hell would I take this deal?”

  “Because you know what’s at stake.”

  “Yeah. My freedom.”

  Harding leaned in and stared me in the eye. “Bullshit. You saved those
men from dying during the prison break when it was expressly in your own interests not to. Like you said, you’re a smuggler, not a murderer.”

  “Of course, according to you,” I snarled, “I’m a traitor.”

  Harding looked at me in silence for a long moment.

  “Say it,” I demanded.

  He cleared his throat. “Whatever my personal thoughts about what you did, this assassination plot killed dozens of people you smuggled Ephemera to. That alone tells me that you were at least partly on the side of the angels.”

  “Partly,” I snorted.

  “I don’t agree with the reasons you did what you did, McNeil, but I’ll admit that at least you had reasons. You weren’t just out for money. And frankly… we don’t have a lot of other options at the moment.”

  “I think the lack of other options is the biggest factor here.”

  “Maybe.”

  It was the closest I was ever going to get to an apology from General John ‘Mad Dog’ Harding.

  I forced myself to cool down and put my thinking cap on.

  “Say I do find out who killed all the superheroes… what then? You gonna go and assassinate the guys who did it?”

  “More or less.”

  “I thought they controlled all the major cities on earth. A hundred million hostages and all that.”

  Harding shrugged. “Once we know where the head of the snake is, it’ll be easier to cut it off.”

  “Uh-huh. And what do I get out of it?”

  “Freedom. You can eke out the rest of your life sentence in another prison, or you can stay out of jail and serve your country at the same time.”

  “I already served my country for seven years, and having to constantly worry about keeping a secret from a bunch of psychopaths isn’t my idea of freedom.”

  “There’s a risk in everything. There’s a risk in you living out the rest of your life in prison, too.”

  Well… he wasn’t wrong about that.

  “If I do find out who masterminded the whole thing, what happens then? Do I get a pardon?” I asked.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I sat there in silence for a moment as I ran the odds in my head.

  Then I gave him my answer.

  “Yeah, no thanks. Hard pass.”

  Harding got grumpy. “I can’t secure a pardon before – ”

  “It’s not the fuckin’ pardon, it’s the whole damn thing. You think I can just show up on a bunch of superpowered mobsters’ doorstep and they’ll welcome me with open arms? Seriously?”

  “You just escaped from Karkarin – ”

  “Where I saved a couple of prison guards, double-crossed Parth, and tried to kill that other guy – which they are going to tell everybody about. The Australian mafia’s gonna be gunning for me for sure, along with whoever arranged the prison break. You might as well paint a target on my forehead, back, and ballsack.”

  Harding didn’t like to be told ‘no,’ and his face reflected that. “So you’re choosing prison, then.”

  “No, I’m going to make you a counteroffer.”

  “Which is what?”

  “I’m gonna go kill a bunch of superpowered warlords for you.”

  It was a sufficiently audacious offer, and it caused exactly the reaction I was looking for.

  Hot Chick did a double-take.

  Harding looked out-and-out confused. “…what?!”

  “I’m going to go take care of your supervillain problem for you, one city at a time.”

  “And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

  “Simple. I’m going to go recruit a team, and then I’m going to go to the nearest city, and then I’m going to kill whatever supervillain’s running it.”

  “Recruit a team from where?” Harding scoffed. “The SPCC doesn’t have many survivors.”

  “I’m not talking military.”

  “All the civilian SPCs are dead.”

  “I’m not talking civilians, either.”

  Now Harding was downright exasperated. “Well it can’t be criminals – you just said Parth’s people want your head on a platter.”

  I leaned in for the kill. “In all your calculations, you’ve made one huge mistake. You think everybody divides neatly into heroes and supervillains. And, I guess, ‘minor’ villains. But there’s an entire underworld of guys like me out there – guys with powers who are just trying to get by. Looking for the next big score. People who would happily rob a bank, or run a con, or steal a bunch of jewels, but they’d never sign on for murder. Definitely not a global assassination conspiracy, no matter how rich it’d make them. There’s an entire network of small-time crooks out there I can convince to help me – provided that the pay-out’s big enough.”

  Harding narrowed his eyes. “And what’s a big enough pay-out?”

  “I figure ten million cash each, and a pardon for all the crimes they’ve ever committed. And not just from the US – I’m talking a pardon from every single country they’re wanted in. If you can’t get the other countries’ cooperation, then at least promise no extradition from the US.”

  Hardly gave a humorless laugh. “What, you want to promise ‘em a box of chocolates and a blowjob, too?”

  It was the first time the whole ‘Four-Star General’ schtick had cracked. Underneath it, I saw the sergeant who’d led the suicide charge up the hill to take the bunker, no matter the cost.

  It wasn’t the Four-Star General I needed to convince.

  It was the blood-and-guts sergeant, the guy who knew the true cost of winning.

  “If that’ll help, sure. But the main thing is, I need a team of people who can go toe-to-toe with the absolute worst motherfuckers on earth right now. And whoever I get, they’re not going to risk their lives for the love of humanity, or freedom, or whatever other bullshit you might try to sell them. And they’re sure as hell not going to do it for peanuts.” I sat back in my chair. “Plus I’m going to need it all in writing.”

  Harding glowered at me. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Then nothing’s going to happen at all. Because nobody’s going to risk their fucking lives just on my say-so.”

  Harding shook his head. “Just a second ago you didn’t want to risk going undercover, being discovered, and getting killed – but now you want to rush headlong into battle?”

  “In your deal, all I do is play defense. I lie my head off, look over my shoulder every second, and try not to get found out. I got no power in your deal. With my deal, I’m playing offense. I’m the one they have to watch out for, the one that’s going to whack them. I’m the fuckin’ boogeyman, not them.”

  “And what do you want for your trouble?” Harding asked sarcastically.

  “Same as the others. Complete pardon for my entire criminal record.”

  “And ten million dollars,” he added nastily.

  “No. Just the pardon.”

  That surprised him.

  “Why?” he asked with a frown.

  “Because it’s not about the money, General. It was never about the money.”

  Harding sat back in his chair. He looked like he might possibly be considering it, which was a small victory in and of itself. “It’s insane.”

  “Which is why it might work.”

  “The odds are going to be much higher your way,” he warned me.

  “No they won’t,” I said confidently.

  “With my way, all you have to do is find out who arranged the assassination.”

  “With your way, the first guy to get suspicious of me whacks me. With my way, I get to whack him first.”

  “Say you do manage to take out a warlord,” Harding said. “The rest will be gunning for you as soon as they hear.”

  “But they won’t kill any civilians, because I’m just another criminal looking to take over their territory. And if anything ‘untoward’ happens, you and the United States military have complete plausible deniability.”

  Harding sat there for a long moment,
mulling it over.

  “Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll run it up the flagpole.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Never do.”

  “I can’t promise anything.”

  I shrugged. “It’s either my way, or I’ll go back to prison and take my chances.”

  “Even if we do go your way, Lt. Smith will still be your handler,” Harding said.

  “No offense, but Lt. Smith is green. She is not cut out for this. With what I’m planning, she’ll be dead in the first assault.”

  “I can handle myself,” Hot Chick snapped.

  I turned to her. “How many people have you killed?”

  “How many have you?” she retorted.

  I let her have it with both barrels.

  “Are we talking about all the people I killed when I was in the Rangers, or when I was in the SPCC? Or are we talking about the assholes I had to kill while I was smuggling, the guys who wanted to slit my throat and steal my freight? Or the guys I had to kill in Karkarin before they tried to skull-fuck me? You choose, sweetheart. Combined or separate, I’m sure my number’s a fuck-ton higher than yours.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “I thought so,” I muttered, and turned back to Harding. “She’s not coming with me.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “It’s me doing this alone, or I go back to prison.”

  Harding gave me a tight-lipped smile. “It’s you doing this with the Lieutenant, or you go back to prison. Non-negotiable.”

  Fuck.

  I could tell he was serious by the tone of his voice, so I sighed and gave in. “Fine. Go run it up the flagpole and see what the boys no-longer-in-Washington have to say.”

  Spoiler alert: they said ‘yes.’

  With a couple of provisions.

  6

  Harding had Lt. Hot Chick unlock my cuffs, and then they both escorted me out into the hallway.

  “We’re going to need a fast plane without markings,” I said as we walked. “Nothing obviously military, either. A sparkjet’ll do.”

  “They haven’t said ‘yes’ yet,” Harding grumbled.

  “They will, so we might as well get a jump on planning. By the way, I’m going to need something else to wear besides this,” I said, gesturing to my camo, “or you might as well paint a target on my dick, too.”