Dark Skies

EARLIER

"Prime!" screamed Angela.

He wore an expression she immensely disliked: shell shock. Something that absolutely could not happen, given he was by far and away their most powerful asset. Prime literally wavered in the air as he struggled to process the disaster.

"We need to move!" she shouted, glancing around.

The water was everywhere. Angela couldn't imagine how to start helping. She looked up to spot Valkyrie swooping in from the east.

She must've finished corralling her batch of civilians, then , concluded Angela.

Flashes in the distance. Angela couldn't see as far as Prime, so she could only assume they were explosions. She hoped someone was there to help.

Prime barked something into his earpiece, drawing her attention, then faced her while pointing to a car. "Civilians!"

Angela jumped to land on a semi-submerged Buick. She could only phase herself and tight clothes through objects, not other people, so she was forced to rip the door off. Inside, a group of boys fought to free themselves. Two were blonde, though one was skinny, and the other had black hair. All looked like they'd be right at home in a sleazy frat.

"Stop moving!" she warned, prying apart some of the roof to pull the driver free. The bulkier blonde just managed to wormthrough, although part of the torn top cut him.

The other boys calmed down enough for her to wrangle clear. They floated beside the van as she turned to sweep the street, looking for other injured blanks.

A ripple in surrounding shadows announced the arrival of Blacklight, a few seconds before Valkyrie thudded down beside him.

That's a solid team, Angela breathed, right as the water began to recede and part to reveal three Rogues. Plague and Floodgates were the easiest to make out, though the third she recognized as the Ergo-lookalike.

"He's powerful," she muttered, as the three began to approach.

"Who?" asked the bulkier blonde.

Angela snorted. "All of them, to be honest. We need to get you guys out of here. Can everyone walk?"

The ground, though wet, was no longer flooded. The boys still glanced around uncertainly. She didn’t blame them. The first few waves were nothing short of apocalyptic.

"The fuck was that?" heaved the raven-haired jock. "It came out of nowhere! Aren't you people supposed to stop that from happening?"

Angela ignored him.

"Let's go," she ordered, jumping to the pavement. "When they start fighting, things are going to get bad quick. Do you know if there’s–"

KAABOOOOM!

Angela survived through the involuntary reflex of her body hardening instants before impact. She was yanked violently off her feet and saw the three boys' bodies be crushed by the shockwave, then their limp forms flung into the sky. She herself, thanks to weighing seven times her normal weight, dropped to crash through a bungalow. A couch perished, flattened under her momentum before a bookshelf sacrificed itself to catch her.

The worst part was that the explosion wasn't even intended for them. They got caught in the blowback of the lookalike ramming Prime at six or seven times the speed of sound.

Coughing dust from her lungs, she crawled back to her feet and staggered for the open wall. She almost made it before water barged in from the street and shoved her into the ceiling.

Literally.

Angela dropped her density to phase through the upper floor and land in a bedroom, then ghosted up to the roof.

"Shit," she hissed.

Floodgates, drunk on his new power, cackled as he recalled the wave, summoned a building-sized pillar of water and flattened another swath of Eastside. The few civilians who managed to evade it were quickly overwhelmed by waves of locusts descending on their fleeing bodies.

Her comm, surprisingly still in one piece, crackled. "Angela?"

"Bernard?" she exclaimed, then scowled. His voice was off. "What's wrong?"

"LA is a smokescreen."

Angela scowled. "How could this possibly be a–"

"The killer just surfaced at the Academy. He's hunting, and I doubt it’s coincidental."

Cold, ugly fear seized Angela’s spine. Not from the news, but because she knew what it entailed. "Get them out , Bernard. Have Dwarf–"

"He's not answering. Cryo isn't here, either. I'm taking the rest of the Droids and the power armour. I'll update you if I survive."

"Bernard, NO! Stop and–"

"I've authorized B-94. Kill if you need. If this is the last we speak, I'm leaving you the chair." He paused. "Take care, Angela."

"Wait, Ber–"

The line died. Panic started to settle.

No, no, no! What the fuck is he– Stop. Stop. You can't lose it. Finish here. Finish them. Rescue him later. Beat the absolute shit out of him as well.

A scream of agony drew her attention down, where Valkyrie was writhing in Blacklight's arms as he bounded clear of Plague's cloud. She leapt down to the street as Blacklight skidded to a halt.

"She'll live," he promised, "but not very happily."

Valkyrie hissed violently enough to foam at the lips. "My feathers will regrow. That Rogue is as strong as Prime. He will need help."

"You're in no condition–" started Blacklight.

"I know," interrupted Valkyrie, growling furiously. Exposed tendons had already cauterized. Reflective, metallic feathers were starting to push through. Whether that was intentional or involuntary, Angela couldn’t help but be impressed. "You can."

Blacklight hesitated. "This is Prime we're talking about. He'll be fine. How do we want to take these guys out?"

Angela narrowed her eyes. "Currently? Through either numbers or intelligence, neither of which we possess."

"You called?" said a voice from behind her.

Angela spun and probably would've caught the invader right in the nose, had it not been Slick. He was gifted with exceptional quickness and used it to slip wide of her straight. A heavily tinted visor blocked her view of his eyes, but she imagined they matched the cocky crook of his smirk.

"Easy, love. The baddies are on the beach." He wrinkled his nose as Plague let loose another torrent of homicidal insects. "Though not of the variety I typically enjoy."

Angela ignored his comment, instead choosing to nod in greeting to his entourage, composed of Hedge, Bejewelled and the Nordic. "Downtown sit-rep?"

"Stable," said Slick, then after catching the look in her eye, corrected to, "well, stable...er."

"Mhm. We need to keep them away from the denser districts to get blanks to the parks and maybe the mountain. Plague will wipe people out by the thousands if his locusts get into a building."

Blacklight nodded, then the group staggered as a tremor rolled down the street.

"The fuck?" barked Bejewelled, craning her neck to try and find the source. Instinctively, her blue left eye flashed and hardened the diamonds composing her skin. "What was that?"

Angela grimaced. "Prime and the doppelganger."

"Doppelganger?" echoed the Nordic questioningly.

"The leader of the Breakers is a Rogue named Ergo. This one looks identical to him."

"And we know they're not the–" started Slick.

"He's not," interrupted Blacklight, staring intently at Angela. "Now, ideas?"

She glanced back to the beach, where Floodgates was pulling back for another wave, while Plague was amassing a horde of what looked like hornets, but she couldn't be sure.

"Plague has to go. He's the biggest threat to civilians, since Floodgates needs water, and he just needs time. Blacklight, he doesn't know you're here yet, so get in close when we get you the chance. Floodgates hits hard, but with that kind of volume, slow. Hedge, I want you in the mix as well. You've got the best range, especially for immobilization and entrapment. Nordic, freeze his shit while Slick slips through his guard. Bejewelled, you're on Plague with me. Toughen up to ignore his locusts and get Blacklight the window he needs. Valkyrie, take ten. If you catch a second wind, well, don’t."

The group voiced their assent, then Angela frowned. Tapping her earpiece, she asked, "Dreads, report."

"En route! What’d I miss?"

"Get to Long Beach and AVOID Lakewood! Prime and a King-Class are tearing it up. We're about to take the fight to Plague and Floodgates. Keep civilians as clear as you can."

As if to emphasize her point, another seismic roar, rolling in from the north, shook the city in tandem with a massive explosion. The shockwave sent debris hurtling for miles in every direction.

No flames.

That was pure force.

"Jesus," Dreads exclaimed. "Alright, y'all take care!"

She turned back to the present team. "Let's get to work."

The group split, then charged the Rogues. Plague had long since wiped life off the beach, and Floodgates' waves dragged the corpses into the deep. Angela tried to do the math in her head.

How many lost.

The number pulled bile into her throat.

How does he do it? she choked, sliding under a truck for cover as Floodgates reared up to inundate Belmont Heights. How does Bernard sleep?

"TO BATTLE!" roared the Nordic, drawing Floodgates' attention as he loosed a two-handed, overhead axe throw. The Rogue barely managed to juke right and avoid being cleaved in half, though the axe kept flying and smacked into the wave growing behind him.

Instead of punching through, though, it stuck and froze the water solid.

Floodgates gaped as the axe wobbled and pulled itself free from the glacier to spin back into the Nordic's waiting right hand.

Floodgates used an aquatic geyser to propel himself clear of the Nordic's arcing swing. It also propelled him straight into Slick, who clipped him with a shoulder check and sent him spinning. Hedge was ready the instant Floodgates clattered to the sand, burying his body in a mass of poisonous vines.

Plague did a double take as the Heroes spun on him, quickly recovering to gather a swarm of insects over his outstretched arm.

“Who wants it?!? Huh??” Plague’s eyes glowed as the insects cocooned him in an organic tornado. “Who wants to eat shit?!”

Bejewelled softened her skin to reinforce her red right eye. Plague caught the glow building behind him and turned to accept an ardent beam of laser energy straight to the collarbone.

Angela followed up, giving the killer no quarter. She topped out her density and delivered a flying fist to Plague's forehead, unceremoniously spilling him to his back. The hornets dispersed as his concentration broke.

They never reformed, either, as Plague's shadow produced a spire of darkness and impaled him through the spine.

"One down," growled Blacklight, turning his attention to Floodgates, who'd finally managed to cut himself free. "And now I can focus on you."

Terror settled in Floodgates' eyes at the sight of his colleague’s corpse. The Rogue scrambled to his feet and spread his arms before clawing upwards with a deranged shriek.

"FUCK OFF!"

Water exploded out of the sand, ascending with sufficient velocity to shred concrete and puncture steel. Blacklight spectred away while Angela turned intangible to walk through the inverted rain. Bejewelled armoured with her blue eye, but even she had to prance to cover. The droplets froze at thirty feet before Floodgates motioned to bring it back down, and likely would've, had the Nordic not tackled him through a lifeguard tower.

Unfortunately, his tackle was so good they flew out of the beach and into a residential pool. Two seconds later, the entire thing erupted and spat Nordic into the air.

Blacklight popped out of a nearby shadow and rammed Floodgates from the back, knocking him through a window. Slick descended on him, connecting twenty-odd punches in around five seconds. His flurry was cut short by water emerging from the pool and smacking him into the ocean.

Or at least, it would've, had Slick not stuck the landing and sprinted back to land. Angela found it irritating. 'Slick' was no misnomer. Someone who could absorb a half-mile sucker punch with enough poise to hit the water running deserved the title.

Slick hit the sand as Angela flipped over an aquatic battering ram. She almost reached Floodgates in a dead sprint, only to have him dance away with an explosive burst of water. Hedge nearly caught him sleeping by pushing another poisonous bush up beneath him, but he evaded that too.

Floodgates’ focus soon revolved solely around surviving the two women, one of whom wanted nothing else but to get in close and the other who was content to kill him from range.

That also meant Bejewelled and Nordic faced no opposition when Blacklight launched them from black whips to steamroll the Rogue. This time, he went through the lifeguard headquarters and spilled to a messy stop along a parking strip.

"TO BATTLE!" declared the Nordic gleefully, scooping Angela off her feet and leaping at their fallen adversary. "BRACE, SECRETARY!"

Angela paled. Don't tell me he's... oh, for fuck's sake.

The Nordic hurled her at Floodgates like a javelin, who made a squelching noise upon collision. Angela herself would’ve probably joined him, had she not fully densified her body. Car alarms, save one in a Chrysler, went off. The outlier couldn’t make any noise, as the van ended up wrapped around a streetlight.

Angela rolled clear, grabbed Floodgates by the scruff of his collar and hurled him into a BMW, crumpling the metal and silencing its horn.

Floodgates, on the other hand, lay unmoving. Bruised, bloodied and hopefully beaten.

Nordic landed a second later and smacked his open chest with the flat of his axe. "Tremendous! You carry the bearings of a true warrior, Secretary! A pity you constrain yourself to the monotony of clerical labour. You belong in battle."

Angela studied his crazed grin. "Mhm. My name isn't secretary, you know."

The Nordic shrugged. "Is that not your position? Our names are shaped by action. I am the Nordic not just by title, but by conduct. 'Beck' means nothing. Secretary is a reflection of your decisions, curriculum and reputation."

Angela blinked. "Right. Okay. Mind giving me a heads-up next time you want to turn me into a football?"

"A competent warrior is perpetually aware, Secretary. I would not do you the dishonour of sullying your senses through speech."

Angela sighed. "Okay."

"We got him?" asked Slick, skating to a halt beside them.

"Appears so." Angela tapped her comm. "Pommel, I've got Floodgates fast asleep on Long Beach. Send a team."

Valkyrie, looking a lot less pale, jogged over to them. "We need to go, now! Dreads just called me. Necro's got zombies in the city!"

Angela retained composure, but it wasn't easy. The death toll by now would be massive, making Necro one of the most powerful people on the planet. And with civilians still scrambling to clear out, she'd just get more minions to play with.

Then, to make things worse, another tremor shook the beach. The source, though, came from above, as illustrated by the erasure of clouds. Over a square mile’s worth of them, at that. The group watched Prime, a white speck against an ocean of blue, drop like a rock before managing to catch himself over the city.

The Mimic shot after him, moving at triple the speed.

"Blacklight, help Prime, now!" Angela ordered. "Keep civvies safe! We'll handle Necro!"

"Copy." Blacklight disappeared into the street as Angela faced the others.

"Hedge, stay here and keep Floodgates secured. Valkyrie, can you run?"

"Yes, but I need at least half my wings to fly. I won't be airborne again today."

Angela nodded. "You and Slick are the fastest, even without them. Start moving and coordinate with Dreads for a destination. Slick, carry Bejewelled."

Valkyrie nodded with a stiff salute and leapt away. She cleared half a mile in a single bound and vanished into the distance.

Bejewelled, on the other hand, made a face as Slick sauntered over and said, "Deep breaths, sweetheart. Floodgates may be out, but around me, you could still get... wet."

"How you manage to run so fast while being so full of shit will always be a mystery to me," replied Bejewelled as Slick scooped her off her feet.

"Hot air," explained Slick. "The latter from breathing, and the hot... well, she's in my arms. What's your condition called again?"

She shifted in his arms, still looking disgusted. "Heterochromia."

"Oh, no," he smirked. "Where I come from, that’s called ‘being beautiful’. I meant the condition where your diamonds... change when we touch. You think the 'hot' was just figurative?"

"Slick," interrupted Angela, "I'm about four seconds from planting my boot so far up your ass, you'll be shitting bloody rubber for the rest of the week. People are fucking dying."

Slick ignored Bejewelled's blushes and shot his masked equivalent of a wink by tilting his head. "See you all soon."

He took off in a blur, skating across sand before veering onto the Interstate and disappearing into the distance. Nordic, however, did not appear to approve.

"That is not a complete warrior," he intoned gravely. "His hubris and lack of sexual mastery lower his global combat effectiveness."

Angela sighed as she jumped onto his back. "Agreed."

Bounding across the city didn’t take long. In that time, LA shook with several tremors and a few outright earthquakes. One in particular stuck out. As it was accompanied by what looked like a whole block sinking, she guessed Prime and Blacklight were hard at work.

Angela felt dread unlike ever before. How strong is that Rogue?

Nordic dropped her off on a homeless shelter. Glancing down over the ledge, Angela spotted their allies. Slick danced through their ranks like a demonic speed skater, Bejewelled's reflective, diamond-clawed fingers shredded their bodies apart, and Valkyrie used obscene amounts of strength to pulverize targets.

The Nordic made a sound of admiration as Valkyrie ripped a Camry in half and belted it through a crowd of corpses. "She truly is a wonder." Then he hefted his axe, called on its frost magic and leapt off the ledge bellowing, "TO BATTLE!"

He hit the ground with a gigantic snowy explosion, sending a rolling wave of ice through zombified legions. Valkyrie watched him land with narrowed eyes and rolled them when he axed through six bodies in a single swing.

"WAR!" he shrieked, stomping a hole in the street to swallow another handful.

Angela glanced up to see Dreads land beside her.

He grinned as his locks shrank back to shoulder length. "Thanks for the backup. Shit was getting hairy."

Angela shot him a look, and he replied with a guilty shrug.

"Couldn't help myself. Question, though. What in the fair freckled fuck are Prime and Blacklight fighting?"

Angela grimaced. "No idea. Where are they?"

"No idea," snorted Dreads. "One second, they're in Vermont Square, the next, right on top of me."

"Damn," breathed Angela.

Dreads turned and pointed to a destroyed theatre. "They crashed through there. Killed a shit ton of people. There are three hundred or so of the original five hundred left. I made sure the building's stable, but they're all still huddled up."

Angela paled. "They killed two hundred people ?"

"In seconds." Dreads' mask eyes creased angrily. "Fucking seconds. The Rogue took out part of the roof. That's how I heard the screaming. They'd already left by the time I arrived."

"Okay. Fuck. Alright let's get them out." She cased their surroundings for options.

"How are we gonna get three hundred people out of here without Necro, wherever she is, sniffing us out?" asked Dreads.

Nordic noticed them up on the ledge and spread his arms, half in invitation, half in confusion as to why they weren't partaking in the glorious battle. Angela held up her finger for 'one second'. He shrugged and dove back into the fray.

Dreads watched Nordic pull an arm off with his teeth. "That guy is messed up. Like, in the head."

Angela pointed down the street, where a pileup left a bunch of vehicles bunched up in an intersection. "There."

Dreads blinked. "How... ohhh. Jesus. I never thought I'd actually ever see, let alone participate in an escort mission."

"No time like the present, hmm?" she retorted, crouching to jump. "Jimmy them free. I'll update the team."

Dreads nodded and propelled himself skyward with a surge of tentacular dreadlocks. Angela hit the street rolling, sized up the remaining corpses and helped punch them apart with the rest of the Heroes.

"Secretary, you only join us when the battle has all but concluded," lamented the Nordic. "If you’re stricken by a lack of nerve, I suggest vodka. There is nothing quite like the fire of drink to–"

"What did Dreads say?" interrupted Valkyrie, shutting the Nordic down with a look.

Angela pointed north. "Civilians sheltered in that building to escape the flood. Our King Rogue decided to pop in for a visit and cut their numbers in half. Three hundred blanks are huddled there, waiting to get out."

Everyone, even Slick, sobered.

"Prime and Blacklight need to put him down, fast," he growled, clenching his fists.

"Regardless, we need to do our part. The remaining blanks need an out, and running south isn’t an option. We're going to get them to Union Station and stick everyone on a train to San Bernadino."

Bejewelled scowled. "And we're going to get three hundred people across the city... how?"

"The way everyone gets through the city," Angela replied, nodding toward Dreads, who'd just pried a bus free. "Public transit."

Slick blinked. "You're shitting me."

Angela left them to get the vehicles started before pulling open the door with Valkyrie. Immediately, a shotgun boomed and punched pellets into her chest, throwing her into the doorframe. Had she not proactively toggled her density, she could’ve been out for the day.

Valkyrie locked in on the culprit and covered the distance in a blink. She crumpled the barrel in her palm, snapped the whole thing in half, then ripped the gun out of the man's hand.

"Fuck!" he barked, unholstering a pistol.

The first bullet pinged off her cheek and struck a chandelier, shattering it. The second ricocheted off her forehead, then over the screaming crowd. The next two missed, as the man was flinching away from the preceding deflections. The last three crumpled against her chest and fell into her open hand.

"You done?" growled Valkyrie, crushing the rounds into a metal ball. She flicked it at the man, which bounced harmlessly off his chest. "Or do you want to reload and kill everyone else?"

The man stared at the bullets, then back at Valkyrie. "Wait, you're–"

"A licensed Hero, yes. Ever tried looking before unloading a deadly weapon?"

He swallowed. "I... fuck, I'm sorry. The other..."

"I understand." Valkyrie offered him a sympathetic look before turning back to Angela. "You okay?"

Angela hacked out a tired cough. "Yeah, just give me a second."

"Sorry!" apologized the man, scratching his head awkwardly. "Thought you were one of... shit. Can, uh, I get you a glass of water or something?"

"I'm good," replied Angela. "You in charge?"

The man blinked. "I sure hope not."

"So you are. Good. Get everyone together, please."

He grimaced. Two minutes later, Angela was on a balcony, addressing the crowd. "Everyone? Hello! I know you all have gone through what must have been a terrifying ordeal. My team and I have put together a plan to get you all out of here, but I need everyone's help." She scanned the crowd to find two men and a woman with public transport logos on their shirts. "Great. Alright, here's what’s gonna happen."

It took some convincing, but eventually, the civilians were ferried out and into the buses. Valkyrie took the opportunity to clear a multi-storey grocer and scout their surroundings.

"Beck, there's a wave incoming! Necro's pulling corpses out of the ocean!"

The group paled. "Say again, Valkyrie?"

"She wasn't downtown! She must've just left these to distract us. There've gotta be hundreds. Dammit! Some aren't... some are kids."

Angela darkened. "ETA?"

"You've got less than five minutes."

Angela spun. "We're out of time! Get those buses loaded, now!"

Civilians stampeded, shrieking in fright as screams of the undead began to fill the street. It wasn’t necessary. The zombies they’d fought earlier hadn’t said a peep.

Necro was sending a message.

"Secretary," growled the Nordic from beside her.

Angela glanced over. "Yes?"

"My beloved claims children to be among the enemy."

"Correct," she confirmed through a scowl.

"Do not allow your resolve to waver." The Nordic stood tall. "I made my acquaintance with a young woman by the name of Bernice. For an eleven-year-old, she boasts impressive ambition. She aims to become a princess, doctor and singer all before sixteen. I am confident she will succeed."

Angela couldn't help but chuckle. "Right."

"She is alive. These abominations are not." He levelled his axe toward the incoming wave of deceased drones. At their tail was Necro, riding a mass of tangled bodies and dead algae. "We perform nothing more than an extended burial. We put tortured souls to rest."

Angela regarded him. "Wise words."

The Nordic nodded. "Battle has the liberating quality of clearing one's mind. Strips away the fats of societal drudgery and, in its place, infuses you with clear, incorruptible purpose."

"Mmm." Angela nodded with a confused frown. "Right."

The Nordic turned to their team. "BROTHERS AND SISTERS! TODAY WE FIGHT FOR THE PEOPLE! WE FIGHT FOR JUSTICE! AND WE FIGHT FOR GLORY! JOIN ME IN COMBAT! IN TRUTH! IN HONOUR!"

He sucked in a deep breath.

"TO BATTLE!"

Without checking to see if anyone had followed, the Nordic charged forward, roaring like a lion. Valkyrie spotted him from above, groaned at the sight of his bloodlusted stampede and leapt into the mix.

Together they warred, slicing through the masses like wheat. Necro, still perched on her Kaiju, stared in bewilderment at the animal shrieking his way through her forces.

"Uh," Slick muttered, coming up on Angela’s right, "he does know this is an escort mission, right?"

Angela shrugged helplessly. "Just make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

She jumped up to a bus roof as they began rolling down the street. Dreads flitted back and forth, knocking cars and debris from their path while Bejewelled’s red eye cleaned up zombie stragglers.

Necro’s army disappeared with astonishing speed. Slick was untouchable, Valkyrie was invincible, and the Nordic was unstoppable. Her forces died (again) so quickly, in fact, that Necro ordered her Kaiju to pick up a chunk of concrete debris and hurl it at the busses.

Bejewelled’s laser only managed to chip it before it clipped the rear bus and sent it skidding into the side of a church. Dreads and Angela managed to get between the roof hatch and a fence, cushioning part of the impact and dragging the vehicle to a stop. Unfortunately, though, not before a wheel was torn free.

"COWARD!" boomed the Nordic, letting his frost axe fly. It nailed the amalgamation's forehead dead centre, throwing Necro from its shoulder and crashing to the ground.

Valkyrie didn't miss a beat, lunging over to drive her boot into the Rogue's head. She hit so hard, in fact, that Angela was half-sure Necro was as dead as her charges.

"You good?" heaved Dreads as Bejewelled tore off part of the roof to pull civilians free.

"I'm good." She pointed Slick to the other buses, which had begun to slow. "Tell them to keep going! We'll catch up!"

Slick nodded and zipped away. Valkyrie and the Nordic landed a moment later, with Necro slung unconsciously over his shoulder.

"Victory, Secretary! Tremendous work."

Angela shook her head. "You know what, Nordic? I'm very happy you're not a Rogue. I have no fucking clue how anyone stops you. Now, let's try and–"

BOOOOOM!

The entire street rumbled as a bomb exploded above them. Then Angela heard the bellows, turned her eyes up and realized the truth.

"No..." she breathed in disbelief.

It was much, much worse.

Prime Nova, tangled with the King-Class, had plowed through the belfry above them. They tangled in a deafening flurry of earthshaking strikes, blowing apart chunks of the edifice like it was made of wet cardboard. They moved almost too fast for Angela to identify.

Angela’s team fell into combat formation as rubble rolled off the roof. Everyone was already tired, and understandably unexcited to bat concrete out of the sky.

Then Prime decided to stop and face her instead of blasting the lookalike to Mars.

"Fuck!" he yelled, switching directions. For a terrifying moment, Angela thought he was about to attack. Instead, Prime twisted past the boulders with arms spread wide.

"Nice try!" hooted the Rogue, catching Prime with some kind of thruster movement in his feet. Angela hadn’t even registered contact when the pavement exploded on her right. She spun to see the Rogue crash his landing, but Prime, who'd somehow wrestled free, spun and clapped.

The force turned ten-ton chunks of stone and brick to dust, none of which even landed. They simply disappeared into the sky.

Angela, closest to the epicentre, was hurtled into the downed bus, dragging it even further back. The civilians, though, were on the other side and only got concussed.

"Get clear!" bellowed Prime, now on top of the Rogue and attempting to choke him out.

Angela crawled upright and watched the lookalike again trigger the thrust mechanic to dislodge himself, then twist almost gracefully to land with his hand locked around Prime's throat. Angela wobbled as the ground cracked and the rest of her team appeared around her.

"Holy shit," Dreads swore. "They’re level on power."

Angela was in an equal state of shock. She'd never seen anyone contend with Prime Nova, let alone force him on the defensive.

"We have to help," she coughed as the Rogue triggered an energy punch. She had to fully densify just to stay on the street.

Bejewelled sucked everything she had into her red eye and punched a laser into the side of the lookalike’s head. Were it anyone else, that head would no longer exist. Instead, the Rogue just jerked sideways, then went airborne as Dreads plucked him off Prime.

The lookalike almost mockingly tore Dreads' hair apart, then tried blitzing him. Angela knew Dreads would likely have been killed had Nova not somehow got there first and tanked the blow. He went flying into the church as half the block collapsed. Valkyrie recovered first, using her one good wing for additional momentum as she trucked into the Rogue's chest.

He stumbled for balance. One single step. Valkyrie, almost at the top of the physical food chain, threw her whole body into an attack and earned one step. Her claws tracked shallow cuts to his chest, and her punches were met with indifference. The Rogue smacked her aside, splitting a tree in half.

The Nordic, grinning wildly, lunged forward and drove his axe down. Angela was honestly shocked that it went through at all, then further shocked when the Rogue shouted angrily. Figuring the thousand-year-old Viking warrior could hold his own for a couple seconds, she glanced down at the cracked street to see a pipe running directly beneath them.

"NO!" screamed Valkyrie.

Angela bolted up to see the shattered remains of The Nordic's backup knife and his severed left arm flopped against the pavement.

Oh fuck no.

She was in the street a second later. The Rogue never saw her coming, nor did he manage to react when her knee slammed up into his throat.

Angela almost screamed. Even at full density, her leg almost broke.

He swiped at her with a casual swing that she telegraphed and phased. Brief confusion registered on his features as she twisted to crack her shin into his head, but instead, his hand snapped over her ankle.

Oh, shi–

White hot, blinding pain overrode her brain as he crushed her leg. Her entire body seemed to lock up. She couldn't turn, cry or fight.

She could only scream.

More pain flared up as he swung her about, and then suddenly, she was airborne. Her vision was spotty and dim. She couldn't sufficiently toughen before crashing through two, no, three windows, then a ceiling.

Her shoulder dislocated. Her ankle twisted further. Everywhere tore. Her back, face and hands were shredded by whatever it was he'd hurled her through.

She lost enough speed from the initial collision to not completely smash through the next object. Instead, she bounced higher and kept spinning through the sky. So high, in fact, that she felt the change in air pressure. There was a whistle in her ears. Angela thought it might have been the air scraping against the glass embedded in her body.

It hurt like nothing she'd felt before.

Then, after what felt like hours, she plummeted. Her muscles didn’t respond to her brain. She tried and failed to up her density. Everywhere was limp.

I'm going to die, she realized in horrified panic, feeling the ground speeding up to meet her.

But the panic wasn't for herself. No, it was for Bernard. She couldn't help him. If she died, he'd die too. She couldn't–

WHAM!

Something caught her. It was softer than the roof, almost like a giant blanket. Her momentum switched as she was juggled through large hands. A series of bumps ensued as they rolled to a rough stop.

Out of the air, the pain began to really register, though she couldn't move. The whine from the glass was still in her ears.

"Beck!" a muffled voice was shouting. "Can you hear me?"

Her eyes painfully grated open. Above her was the very worried, very bruised face of Jason Nova. The sight of him with cuts and bruises wasn't something Angela ever thought she'd witness, let alone when scrunched with worry.

Over her.

She stared in confusion. "What did you–"

Screaming pain. Her mouth went dry as she fought to stay conscious. It was like someone was sawing her leg off.

"Your foot was crushed," he told her. "Save your strength. Can you breathe?"

Angela sucked in a shuddering breath, marginally alleviating her pain. "I can breathe." The thoughts from her fall resurfaced. "We need to get to Bernard!"

Prime went from relieved to concerned. He made it halfway through a question before his eyes bugged at superspeed, and she was flying. Soft, smelly cushioning caught her as a streak of black and platinum steamrolled Prime at impossible speed.

She screamed again when her foot hit the trash. No one heard her. She couldn’t even hear herself through the King-Class collision. It only shifted her a few inches, but even that was enough.

The pain came back with a vengeance, and Angela blacked out.

She wasn't sure how much time passed before something exploded in her arm, ripping her from her slumber and ramrod straight.

Considering her leg was still as broken as before, Angela took solace in her ability to stay conscious. Even if it wasn’t done quietly.

One more scream and I’ll lose my voice.

"Sorry, sorry!" apologized someone on her left. "That looked bad. Figured you'd want it back in place before you woke up."

Angela turned to see someone she'd never normally want to meet. Matthius Nova, or Novax, by his callsign, knelt beside her, looking remorseful. She rotated her relocated shoulder and sighed. He was right.

"That leg looks gnarly. I've got paramedics on the way." He studied her gravely. "I hear you work with Bernard. Dad says he's in trouble, and you might know something?"

Angela seized his arm, gnashing her teeth at her leg’s vocal protests. "How fast can you get to the Den?"

He blinked. "From here? Depends, but usually half an hour."

"Hurry. Bernard is being fucking stupid. He’s gone to the school to fight the Rogue that killed Andre Church."

Matthius’ jaw clanged open. "Bernard's fighting an Alpha ? Alone ?"

The disbelief in his features only fed Angela's panic. Hysteria built as her eyes began to water.

She couldn't help him. She was stuck in this stupid pile of garbage with a defunct leg and couldn't save Bernard.

"Please make sure he's okay," she choked out, gripping Matthius’ sleeve harder. "Please."

Determination replaced Novax’s astonishment. Plasma swimming through his eyes smoked the air around them as he gently removed her hand.

"Make that fifteen."

Then he was airborne, blasting through the sound barrier like it wasn't even there.

Angela watched the trail from Matthius' flight through the clouds slowly dissolve, then attempted to stand. She collapsed immediately. It wasn't just her leg. Everything was done.

She was out for the count. Helpless.

Useless.

She curled into a ball, overcome with pain, exhaustion and paralyzing fear for Bernard's life, and wept.