Chương 34: A Hint of Scales

Alexander recalled most of his drones with a flex of will. Two remained active, drifting quietly on Pandora's floor and in the basement feeding him real-time intel. The rest were for Ripper. He forced the rusted rooftop door open with a grunt. Hinges groaned loud enough to betray him, but there was no helping it. He slipped inside, footsteps echoing softly as he descended three flights of stairs. The hum of power grew stronger the lower he went. Freezers and air conditioners ran at maximum.

He traced their signatures, along with a record player, a mini-fridge, and other appliances. He slowed as he neared the sixth-floor landing, keeping low. The entire level lay open before him, but only through jagged slices and cut-outs. Genius hidden in madness. From his central gallery, Ripper could easily send wind blades across the floor in any direction, punishing anyone forced to maneuver around restructured hallways and damaged walls.

Alexander crouched in the shadow of the stairwell and released his drones one by one, filling the space with their quiet watch. Then he waited. Annie stepped from the portal at a jog. As her boots struck the scuffed lobby tiles, she was already scanning the room. Old fixtures, shattered glass, rust-stained elevator doors. No movement. Only her footfalls echoed back, followed by the soft thuds of Talia and Augustus behind her.

"I'm heading up," Annie called, moving for the stairwell.

"Good luck!"

"Be quick," Augustus said with a nod.

"We'll be going quietly, but the moment we're in position, we strike." She threw a thumbs-up over her shoulder and vanished into the stairwell. Her pace was fast, three steps at a time, footfalls thumping up the concrete. The third floor wasn't far, but tension made each second stretch. Alexander hadn't said it aloud, but she knew Pandora was the greatest threat. If Annie didn't pin her down, the goth might bring the whole building down on them. I've got her number. She'd already be finished if not for Ripper.

She slowed as she reached the landing. The door was closed, but a faint draft stirred around the edges, carrying mixed perfumes. Adjusting her mask, she reconfirmed the seal. She activated MetaMetal Adaptation. Arms, neck, and torso phased into liquid metal, the transformation quicker than ever before. Not taking any chances. I know how tricky this psycho-goth is. Annie reached for the handle. Augustus descended quietly toward the basement. Talia followed two steps behind, weapon cradled in both arms.

Neither spoke. At the landing, he raised a clenched fist. He crept far enough to peek through the open stairwell door and froze. It had looked grim on drone feeds, but worse in person. Rows of skeletons stretched across the carpark, motionless yet waiting. Others mimicked patrols. Captives huddled in the center. Children clung to mothers. Men sobbed into their hands. To the left stood what had been a surveillance office. Shattered windows, monitors smashed, furniture strewn. Mercy paced back and forth inside.

Lounging nearby sat the puppeteer, silent and watchful. Augustus eased back.

"I've got a plan," he whispered.

"You pick your moment. Hit them where it causes the most chaos." Talia nodded, fingers white-knuckled around her weapon. He moved to the doorway, wand already loose in his grip.

"Don't rush on my account. Make it flashy." A minute later, Augustus strode into the carpark. Skeletons responded at once. The front line surged, arms reaching. He leaned into the wave, catching some, letting others pile over him. A shout of alarm carried from the office. Augustus tensed, spun, and flung the skeletons off in every direction.

"Hold still, idiots!" Mercy shrieked. All at once, the skeletons froze in place, massed just ahead of him. Mercy shoved her way forward, Puppeteer close behind. She stopped within shouting distance, far enough to feel safe.

"Are you fucking mad? You tracked us down here and thought you'd what?" She barked a laugh. She elbowed her ally, who smirked.

"Well, I was entertaining the idea of killing you both," Augustus said. Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he shrugged out of it and took a few steps toward the doorway before folding it neatly over the edge of the toppled frame.

"He is mad!" Mercy's laughter turned sharp.

"And what about the hostages, hero? When my skeletons start tearing—""What hostages?" Augustus asked calmly, back still turned. Mercy sputtered, spinning around to see for herself. The captives were gone. Talia chose that moment. She burst through the doorway, flamethrower blazing. Fire roared out, sweeping right to left, igniting skeletons where they stood. Mercy screamed, stumbling back as a dozen skeletons shuffled into a shield wall.

Strings lashed from the Puppeteer's arms, hauling more into a desperate barrier of bone. Augustus turned, taking in the scene like he would a beautiful painting. Wand held loose at his side, other hand slowly unknotting his tie. A lazy flick incinerated a skeleton staggering toward Talia. The flamethrower's flame began to shrink; slowly at first, then with a sputtered cough before the last few droplets of flame fell from the nozzle as it died.

As the sound of the roaring fire fell silent, the sound of Mercy's shrieking replaced it. Burning skeletons collapsed around her. She staggered away from them, clothes, skin, and hair burning. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. The Puppeteer fared a little better. Strings unwound from flesh had burned to stubs, leaving behind emaciated limbs. He had protected himself from the worst of the damage. Augustus shifted, ready to press the attack.

Then—an explosion. From upstairs. Crouched behind a wall, Alexander split his focus. The feeds didn't reveal the source of the explosion, but the reactions spoke clearly. Downstairs, Talia and Augustus had started the battle with flair, forcing Mercy and her ally back. Pandora's response revealed the truth. She rolled from her bed, clutching nail polish, and hurled it at something out of the drone's view. Alexander's attention shifted to Ripper, visible through a blade-slit.

The butcher sniffed the air, slow and deliberate, then turned in Alexander's direction.

"Well, well, well," Ripper said.

"I do so love having guests." His blade swung, the air it traced ripping toward Alexander, tearing chunks out of walls as it passed. Alexander staggered back, barely avoiding the wind blade. He took off down the hall as several more blades erupted through the wall where he'd been. Rounding a corner, Alexander flicked a pair of grenades into the central gallery. Ripper destroyed one with a lazy swing while the other bounced and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop against a wall. Ripper barked a laugh.

"Did you forget to prime it, idiot?" Wind blades continued to erupt from the walls, each one closer than the last. Alexander turned sharply, sprinting down a different hallway. He'd planned to tighten the noose before engaging in close-quarters, but Ripper's accuracy made that impossible. Change of plans. He reached out to the stealthily positioned drones and sent a command. Fly-by mode engaged. Drones zipped toward Ripper from every direction. Alexander knew they were basically harmless.

He was betting everything that Ripper wouldn't though, and therefore couldn't take the risk that one wasn't carrying a grenade after having a couple thrown at him. Annie dodged another projectile as it exploded behind her. She swept aside a curtain and dashed into another room. Her plan had collapsed the moment she had touched the door handle. It hissed ominously as her fingers closed around it.

The brief warning gave her enough time to maximize the density of her quickly expanding metal hand, swallowing the explosion and doing minimal damage. After that though, Pandora had hurled anything and everything. They arched over damaged walls and bounced under colored curtains, explosions dogging her every step. And then there were the exploding curtains.

"Hey, hero!" Pandora's sing-song voice carried through the maze.

"Come on in. I've got a gift for you. No more boom-booms, I pinky promise." Annie knew it was a trap, but she had little choice but to play her game. She pressed forward, pushing aside a curtain and bracing for an explosion that didn't come. Instead, she stepped into the open chamber and froze. Pandora stood barefoot at the center, half-hidden behind a hostage chained at the wrists and ankles. A young woman with tears streaming down her face. Pandora sneered.

"You? Ugh. I thought for sure it was Iron Nadya. At least she would've been fun to torment." She shoved the hostage forward with a manic grin.

"Here, have it." Of all the attacks Annie had been looking for, having the hostage shoved at her was not one of them. She caught the woman instinctively— The hostage's chest erupted as an explosion tore through her, blood and gore spattering across her mask and neck. Annie staggered back, dropping the woman. The body. She looked at Pandora; her smug look, dainty tongue poking between her lips. Rage boiled within her, fury thundering with every heartbeat. Annie charged. Pandora cackled, skipping backward.

Every step left an explosion in her wake. Each time Annie neared, blasts stung her ankles, causing her to stumble. With a scream, Annie launched herself across the remaining distance, arm stretching into a blade that cut through the air. Another explosion redirected the strike, sending it wide. Pandora danced out of reach.

"Too slow, metal-head. Thought you were supposed to be a hero!" She scooped up a heap of jewelry from the floor and hurled it across the room. Annie raised her arms to block, but wasn't quick enough. Chains and rings erupted mid-flight, fragments peppering her chest and mask. The force shot Annie backward where she crashed into a wall with enough force to leave her breathless. She coughed and dragged herself upright.

Pandora was already crouched beside another hostage: a boy no older than ten, who had his arms wrapped around his knees, sobbing quietly. Her hand gently stroked the kid's hair like he was a pet. When Pandora looked back up at Annie, her smile was gone. Her lips curled.

"One wrong move, metal girl," she whispered, "and I paint the walls red."

"Fifteen minutes until arrival," said Maximilian de Castillo. Julia Delvane banked through the clouds, circling back toward the team. The wind whispered in her wake, accompanied by a glittering rain of snowflakes. Her Frostweaving responded to both emotion and intent, and the joy she felt at flying always caused an elegant display. Though it was not intentional, she loved her power all the more for its quirks. Her white combat-suit clung to her, blue accents echoing her icy motif.

The guild jacket fluttered loose, unbuttoned and informal as she preferred. Over it, she wore a long blue cape-like mantle that flapped loudly. Below her, a conjured dragon flew with regal grace, emerald scales sparkling under the sunlight. Max stood between his dragon's shoulders with perfect posture, arms clasped behind his back. He barely shifted even as the beast banked and dove below the clouds. Wind tore at his hair, golden and flowing yet always immaculate. And somehow never out of place.

He needs to tell me what product he uses. His sharp uniform matched hers; black with gold trim. But he wore it with intensity and deliberation. He always looked in control and untouchable. Julia floated closer, watching the others grip conjured chains that lined the dragon's spine. Even flanked by the best the Throne of Scales had, Max looked like an emperor carved in stone. She sighed inwardly. Of course he looked unbothered. Max always did. If he were worried, they all should be.

Raelene gripped a chain in one hand while studying the tablet in the other. Her visor glinted beneath the hood, feeding her a steady stream of data on the rest of the team; vitals and trackers for the powerful buffs she could apply. Quiet as she was, Raelene was the reason their team, their entire guild even, was number one on the west coast. She was the team's backbone. Draven crouched beside her, all lean muscle and poise. His stealth suit rippled like oil on water.

Even now, each shift of his posture made him difficult to see. He had positioned himself near the edge of the dragon's spine, ready to disappear the moment they landed. And then there was Cash. The man didn't sit or crouch like the others. Instead, he lounged, arms crossed and grin wide. He'd hooked his boots around a chain, while his head and shoulders dangled over the edge of the dragon. His speed was renowned, but his cocky ease was what made people wary of the hero.

When the time came, he'd be the first to strike. Julia's gaze drifted to the city ahead. One of the guild's brains, a superpowered mathematician of all things, had provided them with the likely location of Pandora's crew.

"Seismic activity detected at our destination," Raelene said across the psychic connection she'd established.

"Our targets attacked the Argentum Museum while we were en route. Local superheroes responded and drove them off. Reports suggest the Demon Masks may have engaged them before the heroes did."

"Run calculations. Are we heading into a battle between two supervillain groups?" Max asked.

"And do we need to be concerned about these Demon Masks?" Raelene's visor flickered.

"Simulations give seventy-six percent chance. All local heroes accounted for. Demon Masks not in briefing. Investigating." Cash's laughter rang across the link.

"Never heard of 'em. If they mattered, they'd have been in the info packet."

"Enough of that, Cash," Max commanded.

"Every supervillain is a threat. Underestimate one and people die." Cash saluted lazily.

"Aye, captain."

"Time to put on our public faces," Julia cut in before Max could lecture further.

"Draven, release the cam drones." Draven opened a panel on Raelene's pack. Sleek black orbs floated free, spinning into formation around the team, already livestreaming. Julia flashed a smile.

"Hello everyone! We're only minutes away from our next showdown, and the dream team's here with me. Let me tell you what we're heading into…"