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I was not aware of it, and I don’t know what time zone he’s in, but happy birthday to Chris Evans.

"All That Remains" is the third book in my Heroes & Villains trilogy. (Heroes & Villains; Allies & Enemies; All That Remains.) The series is basically the story of how Vereint Georges (Starburst/Darkstar) gets together with Warrick Reidenger Tobias (Blue Ice) and they make a life together before aliens show up to ruin everything.

There’s a bit of violence. And Vereint becomes a supervillain.

The series on Smashwords: Heroes & Villains (https://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/49385)

The separate books on Amazon (affiliate-link):
* Heroes & Villains (https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08MQKS5CD/?tag=harperkingsley-20)
* Allies & Enemies (https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B082HZNJBV/?tag=harperkingsley-20)

Spoiler alert: Caspian Dukes, 1/2 Atlantean superhero, gains a sidekick in "All That Remains." Some kid he meets at the very beginning.

EXCERPT:

Title: All That Remains<br>
Author: Harper Kingsley<br>
Setting: Heroes & Villains universe<br>
Characters: Caspian Dukes, Nick Joseph

CHAPTER ONE

There was the acrid stink of smoke filling the air, accompanied by the screams and desperate cries of the hurt and dying. The street in front of Caspian Dukes was a wreckage of twisted metal where dozens of vehicles had collided.

He felt helpless. Tragedy had already struck and he didn’t know how they could clear away this mess. His mouth tasted sour with failure.

One hour ago he was eating a food truck taco and contemplating a nap. Now he was looking at a triage situation he didn’t feel up to handling.

The lifestyle was wearing him down. Statistically speaking, most superheroes retired out of the field by their tenth year of active duty. He’d been doing this job for close to thirty.

He didn’t think he was quite ready to retire, but he might cut back on some duty shifts. He wouldn’t do anyone any good if he let himself burn out.

Maybe it’s time for a nice vacation, he thought. Surf, sand, and a chance to get my gills wet.

Just the thought of immersing himself in the ocean soothed some of the tension out of his shoulders. Enough that he was able to focus on the task at hand.

As the old timers had said, the ocean always called their people home in the end.

"All right, boys and girls, the situation has changed," Caspian called out. "It’s time to focus on cleaning up the mess rather than making it. I want each of you to pair up with an Emergency Services team. It’s search and rescue time. Follow the orders of the ES team leader and be careful, safe, and smart. Understood?"

The Junior League members answered in unison, "Yes, sir!" There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation as they rushed forward to rescue the wounded and comfort the dying. They were strong as a unit, even the ones that had never worked together.

Smart, loyal, and quick to follow the orders of their superiors–they were a good bunch of kids and Caspian felt proud watching them swarm the scene. Maybe he was getting old, but the new League members looked younger to him every year. He couldn’t remember a time when he was ever so young and eager to please. There was a part of him that secretly wanted to wrap them up in bubble wrap and deliver them back to their parents safe and sound. Which was ridiculous because they were competent professionals that wouldn’t appreciate his babying.

He shook his head and stalked forward to do his part. People needed help.

Trusting that the Juniors would know to give him a yell if they needed him, he helped a couple of Emergency Service officers by ripping the stuck passenger side door off of a car that had been crumpled like a tin can in the fist of a giant. A single peek through the window showed that the driver–a young woman with blood darkened hair shrouding her face–was dead, but the man next to her was weakly struggling with his seatbelt, his dazed eyes unable to focus. He seemed frantic to reach the toddler screaming in the backseat.

"Hold on, buddy," Caspian said. "Don’t try to move."

He stepped out of the way of the rescue workers and their backboard, wishing that the car had been a four-door so he could get to the kid. She was unharmed, though the shock of the crash had turned to terror of the unknown. Interspersed with her shrieks were what sounded like the words "Mama!" and "Dada!" and he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her as only one of them was ever going to answer.

Once the father was out of the way and being loaded onto a gurney, Caspian was quick to pull the toddler out of her car seat, turning her so she didn’t get a good look at her mother’s body. "Sh, sh, it’s all right," he murmured, patting her back and giving her a quick once over.

Her small hands fisted against the front of his uniform and her shrieks trailed into hiccuping cries. Her head moved back and forth, trying to see where "Dada!" had gone, but Caspian kept her turned away from where the paramedics worked. There was quite a bit of blood and he didn’t want to traumatize her more than she already was.

Looking around, he knew she was going to have plenty to talk about with her future therapist. She’d lost her mother, and her father was probably going to be spending some time in the hospital.

"Here, I’ll take her." Caspian turned to look at the man that had spoken. He was wearing an Emergency Service uniform along with a Megacity Mavens baseball cap. "You’ve got other stuff to handle."

"Thanks," Caspian said. He carefully passed the toddler over, reining in his strength. He’d feel terrible if he accidentally hurt her, especially after everything she’d experienced.

Stepping away from the totaled car, he looked around to see where he was needed. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to what he was seeing, like some horrible optical illusion coming into focus.

The street was a scene of damage and destruction. The epicenter was three low buildings set close together. From the way the awning had been blown across the street from the middle building–with its plaster pillars shattered and broken mirrors everywhere–Caspian thought it had been the main site of the disaster.

There was a ten-year-old boy seated on the curb, a vacant expression on his dirty face. He was cradling something in his hands and his dark brown hair was nearly white on top from plaster dust. When he glanced up at Caspian’s approach, his eyes were a startling shade of blue. It was such a striking sight that Caspian hitched his step.

"Hey, kid." Caspian didn’t bother faking a smile. The situation was too raw to be made light of. "Do you know what happened here?"

The boy looked up at him. His hands shifted and Caspian briefly glimpsed the watch that he held. The glass face had a crack running through it and there was plaster dust caught in the band. "It was Becky. She said that she wasn’t feeling good. Then all this happened."

"I see. And who is Becky?" Caspian asked. The first responders would have gathered the information on their arrival, but it didn’t hurt to get a firsthand account when he could.

"She’s a girl in my class." The boy rubbed the back of his hand under his nose. "She’s dead now. Can I call my dad? I want to go home."

"It will be a little while," Caspian said. "You’re going to have to be patient."

The boy hunched his shoulders with a sigh. "Okay."

"Can you tell me what you saw?" Caspian asked.

"We were coming out of the Museum of Mirrors when Becky started saying she wasn’t feeling good," the boy said. "She wanted to get some air. I saw her leaving and Ms. Mailey following after her. And then a little bit later there was a loud noise outside. And then the wall and the ceiling were falling on us."

Caspian sat on his heels, bringing them closer in height. "Is that when you Manifested?"

The boy looked down at his dirty hands. His mouth moved soundlessly and Caspian could practically see the thoughts moving behind his eyes. "N-no. It’s not all the time, but I’m strong."

"I see," Caspian said. "What’s your name?"

"Nick. Nick Joseph."

"Well, it’s good to meet you, Nick Joseph. You saved the lives of your classmates." And it wasn’t an exaggeration. The kid had kept his classmates and their chaperones from being crushed. "You saved your friends."

"I guess so."

"You did," Caspian said. "You’re a real hero."

---

Nicky was scared. He didn’t think his dad would get mad at him for taking off his power dampening watch, but he didn’t know. He’d acted before he’d thought.

The ceiling had been falling and he’d taken his watch off. It had felt so easy to push the button and turn off the dampening effect.

He couldn’t just stand to one side while his classmates were killed, not when he could do something to save them. But he’d exposed himself as a metahuman. His dad was going to be disappointed.

It wasn’t like his dad had wanted him to come on this trip in the first place. He’d had to beg and plead and get Father to help talk Dad around. And look what happened.

He turned the watch over in his hands and put it back on his wrist. The crack in the watch face was ugly but shouldn’t stop the device from working. He pressed the button on the side.

It immediately felt as though the brightness level of the world was clicked down two notches. Sound dampened and he felt some of the tightness leave his shoulders (everything had been so loud and sharp). He was feeling shaky and the last thing he wanted to do was pass out in front of someone like Caspian Dukes.

"I need to eat something," he said. "I have diabetes."

/EXCERPT

I’m reading "Tuesday Night". There’s quite a bit of graphic violence. I don’t know.

Why do I feel guilty about the fiction I write because some people are enacting violence in real life?

My headspace is disrupted by the violence of other people. The terror that they invoke as they wave their guns around with careless abandon.

"Why would you possibly be bothered by me waving a 50-shot rifle around like a fucking maniac?" is not the innocent query you think it is.

In a time when people seem to be losing their ever loving minds… What makes you think it’s a good idea to parade around with your guns out?

You’re trying to normalize something that shouldn’t be normalized.

If you want to exist in a constant state of war and fear… Join the military. Become a mercenary. Be a modern Dale Gribble. Go live in the woods.

You can cosplay any way that you like, the rest of us don’t want to be involved.

People want to be able to live their everyday lives without worrying someone is going to bust in guns blazing.

And like, I would like to post "Tuesday Night." I would like to finish the book and publish it and make a little bit of money while sharing a bit of entertainment.

And I don’t want people to point at me and say "You’re part of the problem" because I write about exciting ultra-violence.

Anyways, here’s an excerpt. Don’t judge me harshly. Constructive, non-mean help welcome. I am terrible at remembering the names of weapons, fight moves, or equipment components. So yeah… help would be welcome lol

Tuesday Night

Author: Harper Kingsley

Genre: mm, romance, science fiction, superhero

EXCERPT: Tuesday Night

Four hours later, Tony wasn’t so confident. The briefing had taken most of the wind out of his sails and he was seriously wondering if any of them were going to make it. Not that he would ever think to back out.

He had a duty to perform even if it killed him. Countless lives were depending on him and the fifty other superheroes crammed aboard the three re-purposed and armor plated school buses. No one was allowed to fly, not if it gave the Zarplaxian Horde a chance to adapt to their defenses.

He stared out the bus window and was glad of Seth’s presence on the bench seat beside him. Tony’s expression was grim and he forced down his fear, his gauntlets clenching against his helm where it rested on his lap. He hated breathing in the thing and would put it back on when they were closer to the mark.

"You doing okay?"

Tony glanced at Seth. "Sure, why not? We’re only facing the real life equivalent of the Borg. Why would I be worried?"

"I promise that I’ll rescue you if you get assimilated," Seth said.

"Thanks." One corner of Tony’s mouth lifted. "Just don’t let me go all Locutus and we’ll be all right."

"Nerd," Seth said fondly. He’d taken his own helm off and was sipping from a juice box, his right leg jiggling. There was no other sign of nerves about him, and just seeing him let Tony pretend that everything was going to be all right. None of his people were going to die today.

He glanced over his shoulder at where Powergirl was giving a last pep talk to the rookies with Queen Midnight adding her own words of advice here and there. Saint Kloude looked like he was about to piss himself, but WarSong was grimly determined. Tony hoped they didn’t die.

He twitched when Seth leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder. Tony thought about making a comment, then swallowed it back down. He wrapped his arm around Seth and pulled him closer.

Minutes passed and he could feel Seth start to sag then jerk himself awake.

"Take a nap. I’ll wake you when we’re there," he said gruffly.

"What about you?" Seth asked.

"Please. You know I can’t sleep before a mission. I get too excited." He brushed his gauntleted hand against Seth’s ear. "Go to sleep."

"Okay."

Tony took Seth’s helm and rested it on the floor between his feet. He stared out the window and listened to Seth breathe against his shoulder. It was a soothing sound, not quite a snore.

He was glad Evan had Henry. No matter what happened, Henry would be all right–Evan would kill anyone that got too close. So even if they lost today’s battle–which the precogs only gave them a 40% chance of winning–Evan would take Henry far away and join whatever resistance managed to form itself.

Needing the comfort, Tony hummed softly. A tuneless melody that eventually became an old lullaby his grandmother used to sing to him. He couldn’t remember her face, but he could still feel her love, and he wrapped it tight around himself as they rode into battle.

Not everyone was going to survive today. But he promised himself that he would keep Seth safe. It wasn’t going to be like the day Ashley died, alone and miserable, out of view of everyone as Tony let himself be distracted and forgot to watch her back.

I’ve got you, he thought. And it felt right to press a kiss against the top of Seth’s head, sealing the deal. I’ve got you.

---

There had been a time when Seth never would have thought he could sleep before a battle, but experience had trained him to rest when he could. It was better than brooding about what was going to happen. Plus he appreciated being well-rested before a fight.

Tony had kept his word and woken him before they’d entered Star City, which was eerily deserted.

"Where are all the people?" someone loudly wondered.

"They’re being turned into alien killing machines. Weren’t you listening during the briefing?" someone else replied to a round of nervous laughter.

Seth put his helm on and made sure it was thoroughly clamped down.

The Zarplaxians were able to control their victims through robotic spiders that injected nanobots in through the base of the skull. From the captured videos it had looked excruciating, the victims writhing and screaming, blood coming from their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths until they were thoroughly infested. Then they became drones to the Zarplaxian Hive Mind located half a galaxy away.

Their mission today was to keep the Zarplaxian scouts from gaining a foothold on Earth. The Teen Demis and other supergroups were to contain the situation in Star City while a second group was working on taking out the subspace ansible and destroying the connection to the Hive.

If things went well, the victims would be freed from Hive control and there would be time to clear the nanos from their bloodstreams. If things went bad, they’d be facing a city full of rampaging people under the control of a remorseless ubermind able to infect more drones while building what one precog had termed "a giant space toilet" that was able to bring in Warriors from the Zarplaxian homeworld. All the precogs agreed that letting even one Warrior Caste through would spell disaster for Earth. Evidently a Warrior was three hundred tons of world devastating power with the equivalent of a micro-singularity in its chest capable of swallowing cities whole.

The Zarplaxian Horde was not looking to add humanity to its empire. They were creating drones for the sole purpose of using them to build the giant machine through which they traveled. Then the Warriors would wipe away all animal life and the colonists would come through and take over their new home.

It seemed the Zarplaxians only used space travel to launch their drone ships–economy car-sized spheres loaded with nano spiders and the ansible components. For the Zarplaxians themselves, their species was so vast in size that humans were like ants. As their population grew, they needed more and more planets to contain them, and their Empire was expanding outward, swallowing countless worlds.

Seth drew in a deep breath as the bus rumbled to a stop in a grocery store parking lot. The other two buses in their group had already separated to their own target locations, and he knew there was another twelve buses loaded with superheroes out there, though he didn’t know where. Command hadn’t wanted anyone on the ground to know the full troop locations and plans because there was a real risk that any one of them could be infected. They were all considered expendable.

"All right, haul your asses off the bus and make way on foot to your target locations. Maintain radio silence and good luck," Kid Nitro said, pulling the lever that opened the doors. He didn’t wait for a response, zipping down the steps and away in a blur that quickly disappeared. He had his own mission to perform, as did they.

Seth shuffled off the bus and met up with the other Teen Demis. Their group would stick together, though after the ansible went down they were supposed to separate into pairs–Seth had already claimed Tony as his partner.

Other groups had already gathered their gear and were trooping off. Seth saw Captain Ferocious from the Young Bloods starting his guys moving off at a trot, Pyremaker missing from their team. Like the psionics, the pyrokinetics were being kept in reserve. If the situation got bad, the order was for the pyros to torch everything in the city, including their own teammates.

Seth wasn’t too concerned for himself, but Queen Midnight was the only other flame resistant member of the Teen Demis. Everyone else would go up like a roman candle, and anyone trying to fly away would be shot down by air support.

Command was not risking any Zarplaxian drones escaping. They all knew what was at stake here. They all knew their own people would put them down for the greater good. It was sobering, but there was no room for failure.

"All right, guys, let’s get moving," Powergirl said, her voice echoing eerily through her helm. "We’ve got about a million drones between us and our objective."

It felt vaguely disrespectful to think of them as drones, but there needed to be some disassociation. Otherwise there was a real concern that one of them might hesitate at the wrong moment, caught up in the realization that they were killing people–mothers and fathers, young children with their whole lives spread out before them–and not saving the world.

It was unfortunate, but the citizens of Star City had already been written off by the CMPF and the World Council. What were the lives of a few million when compared to all of humanity? It sucked, but they were all marked expendable, and it was something that needed to be remembered when they confronted a bunch of "drones."

Seth glanced at the rookies. It was impossible to read expressions with their helms on, but he figured they had to be scared. It sucked that their first All Call involved an apocalypse scenario, but that was the luck of the draw. He hoped they survived.

"Let’s go," Powergirl said, not even bothering to try for a cheery pep talk. She sounded grimly determined and her shoulders were square as she set off across the parking lot.

They followed after her. They had twelve miles to go and they were making them on foot, their Command assigned packs bulging with gear.

Their mission was to reach the Alcott building and lay the charges for the experimental ELF bomb. The satellite dish on the roof was supposed to boost the signal somehow, though Seth hadn’t understood the specifics.

All he knew was they were laying the charges, and if things went well, all unshielded humans–drone or not–would be knocked unconscious for up to 26-hours. It would cause some kind of biological system reboot.

The whole thing felt really sci-fi to him, but considering they were fighting aliens he was willing to accept the idea as long as it worked. He just hoped the transmitters they’d been given really would shield them from the blast. It would suck to get knocked out by their own tech.

"Keep an eye out for flyers," Powergirl warned.

Queen Midnight had her gauss rifle ready in her hands. "On it."

From the briefing they knew Star City had nearly a hundred thousand metahumans of varying ability levels. After Behemoth’s rampage most of the active alphas had been wiped out, but things were still dangerous. Some flying kid strapped to a bomb could still ruin the plan.

Seth kept near Tony and tried not to think of the last time he’d walked these streets. Sure, it had happened on the other side of town, but he didn’t think he’d ever forget the screaming agony as his leg splintered in the grip of one meaty hand, his hip dislocating with a squelching-pop.

"God, I hate this city," he muttered.

Tony bumped his shoulder, his helm still facing forward as he watched the road ahead. "We got this. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you."

It was dumb to feel so relieved, considering what they were headed into, but having Tony close soothed him. It was hard to be afraid when Tony was nearby.

He remained watchful and wary as they followed Powergirl’s lead. Tony watched the left while he had the right, and between the two of them they guarded the rear from attack. The newbies were kept toward the middle of the group where they could be somewhat protected.

There was something eerie about walking down the empty streets of a once bustling metropolis. It might have been more soothing to know the people were all dead, at least then there wouldn’t have to be so much wondering about where they were, what they were doing. Millions of people didn’t just disappear. Not when they were being controlled by an alien hive-mind.

"I’ve got movement in the high rise on our nine," Tony said, voice low even with their secured coms. "Window on the fourteenth floor."

"I see it," Queen Midnight said. "There were reports of unaltered humans hiding out. Might be one of them."

"We can’t risk it. WarSong, you’re up," Powergirl said. "Take out the target with a minimum of fuss and meet us on the corner of that peach building. I’m marking it on your map. Follow the caret."

"Yessir." WarSong drifted to the edge of the group and into the shadow of the building. Their watcher wouldn’t be able to see her from that angle.

The Teen Demis moved on, Queen Midnight’s shadows a near invisible pressure against their body armor. She’d be able to block a few armor piercing rounds, enough that they’d have a chance to prepare for incoming.

"Did she call me sir?" Powergirl asked.

"Yessir," Seth said and there was a brief chuckle in response. They were all wound tight, waiting for a mass of mind-controlled zombies to fall on them.

"I’m too old for this shit," Powergirl said. "Stay frosty, people. Hive-mind means if that was a hostile then they already know we’re here."

They made their way to the peach colored building, which turned out to be more orangeish when they got close. Seth kept an eye on his side, tensed to catch any motion.

He hoped it was an unaltered civilian that had been watching them. Then wondered what kind of monster he had to be that he was wishing WarSong was killing some poor regular shmoe. They just couldn’t risk their op being busted–all witnesses needed to be handled, quietly and surgically.

Seth pushed any guilt away and focused on the Now. He’d have time for guilt and self-recriminations later, when the world wasn’t invaded by a hostile alien force.

He kept alert, eyes scanning his section. Tony was a spot of warm presence on his left, a green-for-friendly blob on the map located in the corner of his helm’s HUD.

He pushed away everything but the mission and firmly gripped his gauss rifle, ready to fire at any sign of hostiles. He was ready.

---

Tony was sweating into his jock. Every time there was a hint of serious danger, his balls decided to sweat until he was a drippy mess between the legs. Moisture wicking underwear kept him from swimming in his own fear, but he could tell the material lining his cup had worn thin. It was a minor irritation, but he had to force himself not to be distracted.

Getting his team killed because he had sweaty balls would not go over well with Overwatch. Plus the guilt would probably send him right over the edge.

Tony kept his eyes sharp and ignored the discomfort in his pants. "She’s taking a while," he said.

They’d been waiting near to fifteen slow crawling minutes. WarSong should have been in and out in less than ten. Even spread out under the overhang with parked cars to hopefully conceal them, they were dangerously exposed. The longer they spent in one place the more vulnerable they were to detection.

Tony shifted in his crouch, trying to give his crotch some room to breathe. The sweat was making him itch and he gritted his teeth at the sensation. It was like fire ants infesting his balls, little nips that were getting worse and worse. Sweat trickled down the side of his face.

"I feel uncomfortable saying this," Seth sounded strained, "but I feel like there’s ants in my pants. My, uh, my balls feel like they’re getting, uh. It’s very uncomfortable."

"You too?" Queen Midnight breathed. "Oh shit, I think we’ve been made."

With her pronouncement, it suddenly felt as though someone had literally set Tony’s crotch on fire. With a propane torch.

His knees hit the pavement and he hunched over the agony in his groin. It was not just his balls anymore, but his dick and deep up into his pelvis. His nerves were screaming out and there was nothing he could do to stop the pain.

Tears flooded his eyes and he gritted his teeth hard enough to hear his molars grate together. He hunched over himself, his armor keeping him from clutching his tormented genitals.

"Fu-fuck," he groaned.

Dimly he heard shouts and crashes, but it wasn’t until the pain cut out that he knew the world around him still existed. Strangely distorted with bright splashes of color and sound that echoed through his skull, but still there.

He was grabbed by the shoulders and pulled away in time to watch a mid-sized car cartwheel through the spot where he’d been kneeling. He blinked at the strangeness of everything and let himself be pulled along in a stumbling run, Seth’s hand gripping his hand hard enough that he could feel it through his gloves. It was an anchor keeping him from slipping away.

"Come on."

Tony followed Seth, counting on him to lead him to safety. He was too out of it to trust himself.

It was a whirl of alleyways and long stretches of street, of using cars and buildings for cover as they fled as fast as they could on foot. Tony could feel his heart thudding in his chest and his panting breaths made his helm hot and moist inside. All he knew was that they were running from the enemy and he was glad the sharp pain had stopped. His dick and balls still ached, though it was a dull echo.

Finally Seth seemed to think they’d thrown off pursuit. He shoved Tony into a narrow alley between two brick buildings and pulled him down into an exterior stairwell.

Tony panted for breath, resting his head against Seth’s back. He tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. His brain felt scrambled and words were too hard to get out.

"I think we’re good." Seth peered down the alley toward the street, his back a tense line. "We might be good."

Tony shuddered and breathed and wanted to take his helm off except that probably wasn’t a good idea. At the moment he couldn’t have said why it would be bad, he was just trusting his training.

"Are you all right?" Seth turned around, his hands holding Tony’s shoulders. He sounded concerned, though it was impossible to read his expression through the blank smoothness of his helm. "Tony? Teen Steel, respond!"

It was the snap of command that had Tony stiffening. His mouth opened and moved, though it took several tries to get sensible words out. "I… I’m all right."

Seth’s sigh of relief seemed weirdly close, intimate, through the coms. "Thank God, I don’t think I could handle any of this alone."

"Where’s…" Tony cleared his throat. "Where’s the team?"

"I don’t know. We scattered in different directions. We have to figure they’ve all been compromised. We’re alone. Mission parameters have changed."

Command had figured something like this could happen. Until the threat was taken out and the All Clear was sounded, they would be a two-man group and they weren’t to trust anyone, not even their own teammates.

"Shit," Tony muttered. He was glad he wasn’t alone, but it was going to be tough completing the mission with just the two of them. Tough, but not impossible.

"We can do this," Seth said.

"Yeah." Tony tried to keep the doubt out of his voice, knowing they didn’t have any other choice. The Earth was at risk and duty didn’t stop just because the team had been split up and his balls hurt. "We can do this."

Seth gripped his shoulders tight and leaned forward to clunk their helms together softly. "We can do this. We’ll stay here about half an hour and rest up, then we’ll fulfill our secondary objective. We got this."

"Yeah." Tony wanted to believe. "We got this."

---

Whatever that attack had been, it had hit Tony hard. Enough to put the guy’s body into shock, at least that’s what Seth figured was going on.

In the scuffle, Seth had caught a glimpse of their attacker before the man’s face had exploded into vapor under the high-powered fire of his gauss rifle. It had been the minor supervillain known as Hotfoot. He had the ability to manipulate the nerves of his victims, bringing a burning sensation that could focus on a group of people with one target taking the brunt of his focus. It looked like Tony had been his main target.

Seth looked toward Tony and saw that he’d folded himself into the corner against the door. His knees were drawn up against his chest and his head was tilted sideways, the side of his helm pressed against the cement. He looked like he’d be uncomfortable, but Seth didn’t want to bother him when they were going to be moving out in a few minutes.

He wished that he could see Tony’s face, but they weren’t to remove their helms during the mission. Not when the enemy could take control of a host within a few seconds of tapping a spinal node. Safety had to come first, even if Seth was worried about Tony.

Hotfoot didn’t give his victims permanent nerve damage, but Seth had seen the Bingo Books. Hotfoot was a smalltime villain with an ability that could cause psychosomatic pain in the people he targeted. He’d only used his powers on a small scale, not wanting to end up on some cape’s hit list, but there had been notes in the file speculating that a concentrated enough dose of his metability could create a permanent disability in his targets.

It would be psychological in nature, but Tony could spend the rest of his life suffering from the symptoms of nerve damage, including recurring flareups of agonizing pain.

Seth’s chronometer vibrated on his wrist before he turned off the alarm. It was time to move out. They had a mission to complete.

He laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder, not squeezing and definitely not shaking. He didn’t need to trigger an aggressive response. "Tony, it’s Seth. Time to wake up."

There was a discontented groan through the coms and Tony’s helm covered head shifted. "I’m awake."

"Good. We’ve got work to do. What’s your status?"

Seth moved out of the way as Tony climbed to his knees, his arms and head rotating as he worked the kinks out. "I feel like I’ve been run over, but I’m ready."

"All right. I’ll hold you to that." Seth didn’t have a choice. This was an all-hands on deck op and he wasn’t looking to complete the mission alone. "We move out in five."

"Yes, sir." There wasn’t a trace of mockery in Tony’s voice. He’d put his game face on.

Seth pushed all the worry and affection away from his mind and pulled the mission to the forefront. There was no time for sentimentality or affection. They had a job to do, and in the end they were both expendable. Even if he loved Tony.

"Let’s get out of here. I’m marking the secondary target on the map and denoting it Primary Objective. If we get separated, you go after your backup target and you don’t hesitate. Understood?"

"Understood."

Just as Seth didn’t know what Tony’s fallback target was, Tony didn’t know what Seth’s was. If they were lucky, neither one of them would have to activate their solo missions–the Suicide Plans. Because if Seth was forced to switch his powers to max and burn his way through the central mass of enemy territory, there wasn’t going to be anything left of him–win, lose, or fail.

Being able to burn hotter than the sun was an awesome power in theory. But there came a point when his own body couldn’t protect him from the damage anymore. He’d burn like a road flare–fierce, bright, and hot enough that there’d be nothing left inside, just a burnt out husk.

Given his choice, he’d rather stay as far away from Objective Three as possible. And he didn’t want to even think about what Tony’s solo mission would entail.

It doesn’t matter, he thought. We have our PO and we’re not going to let anything stop us. We will complete the mission.

He looked down the alley. "It’s clear. Let’s go."

They’d wrapped their packs with dull black duct tape, which meant there wasn’t a single jangle as they moved out. Seth kept an eye toward Tony for a few steps, but the other man seemed all right. There was no stiffness in his stride at least and he didn’t voice a complaint.

Seth faced forward. The mission was the priority.

---

Following Seth was like second nature. Tony had to admit that the guy had fallen into the role of leader as natural as breathing. Probably a result of the leadership courses he’d received at the Training Center as a teenager. Tony had only managed summer classes until the CMPF scholarship, but Seth had been training to be a superhero from the time he was fourteen years old.

Part of Tony would always wonder what his life would have been like if he’d had the money for the intensive training Seth had received. But that was an old regret, one that he couldn’t do anything about now.

They were jogging a winding path that cut through side streets and down alleys, keeping an eye out for any people. Everything seemed deserted. It was eerie to see no people bustling about during the day. It gave a horror movie vibe that made the patch of skin between his shoulders itch.

Seth must have shared his unease, because they were moving at a good clip. It wouldn’t take them too long to reach Triangle Park, maybe another twenty minutes.

Tony was starting to think things were looking like cake. They’d reach the Park, lay the charges, and be out of range before the fireworks started. They were going to make it.

A flicker of warning. He body-slammed Seth out of the way with a flying tackle. "Get down!"

The ground they would have passed through exploded with a rain of pulverized asphalt and burning debris.

Tony rolled off Seth, his rifle already firing. He was in that headspace where everything seemed to move slowly and his targets were limned by some inexplicable brightness, drawing his attention. The squeeze of the trigger was like breathing, and he felt nothing as unarmored human bodies exploded into blood and vaporized bone.

He felt Seth at his back and heard the echoing discharge of another gauss rifle. They moved in sync, a crabwalk that carried them through the crowd of zombified civilians. There were a few AR-15s, an RPG here and there, but most of them had only small arms, knives, and makeshift clubs–baseball bats, hockey sticks, golf clubs, and a few cricket bats notable mostly for their "Huh" value.

Dozens of people quickly became hundreds, maybe even thousands, until they crammed the streets in a mass of blank-eyed aggression. The alien controllers didn’t care if their human meat puppets were hurt or killed. They kept feeding them out onto the street in an overwhelming mass.

Tony was questioning the hive mind’s plans when the first cape arrived. Flying low to avoid the overhead air patrols and the ion cannons mounted on the satellite weapon’s platforms. The hive had learned not to tempt the airspace quarantine.

Tony wondered how many flying metahumans had to reach the height limit and be vaporized before the aliens had learned to keep their drones below twenty feet. He tried not to think of how many of them had been people he’d known.

Now wasn’t the time to think about all that. He had to focus on the battle in front of him and the trouble flying up on them. Monteressa, the Iron Woman of Prague. Her flesh gleamed like silver nitrate and her hair was writhing coils of living metal.

Her origin story was mostly rumors and speculation. She was a foreign national that had fallen in love with an American superheroine named Hartache. They rotated their residency with six months in America and six months in Prague, and they were lauded as a great example of international cooperation. It didn’t hurt that Hartache was sexy in form-fitting reddish-brown leather and the exposed portions of her face looked like they belonged to an equally attractive face. They were a power couple in every sense of the word.

"Keep an eye out for Hartache," Seth advised.

"Roger." Tony was already scanning roof tops and vantage points where the crossbow wielding shapechanger could be crouching.

Hartache could transform herself into a white hart–a beautiful doe with hooves she’d had specially shod to enable her to punch through human flesh even easier than a natural deer. She was also a deadly shot with a crossbow and had won a bronze medal at the Meta Olympics. It was where she’d met Monteressa, who’d won the silver in the Mid-Range Strength category by lifting and crushing a tank within the thirty second time limit.

There was a crawling sensation between Tony’s shoulder blades and he whirled around to see Hartache take the shot. She was firing between the safety rails of an apartment’s balcony, her mouth a tight line and her movements sure.

Time seemed to slow down as the arrow came toward him. Over the shouts and growls of the crowding drones, he thought he could heard the buzzing thrum of the arrow’s flight, but that had to be pure imagination.

It seemed natural to grab the nearest drone–he refused to think of it as a man with a family and a life, with children and an everyday existence–and pulled it in front of him just as the arrow struck.

The razor-tipped arrowhead jutted obscenely through the drone’s chest. The drone made a gasping, gurgling sound, blood pouring from its mouth as it died.

Tony threw the body toward Monteressa and dodged Hartache’s follow-up shot. There was the dull whump of the drone’s body exploding as the charge in the shaft released. Monteressa disappeared from view.

Time was moving and jerking and he was seeing things in snapshot movements, but he didn’t let himself hesitate. He kicked a woman in the face and made a linebacker’s charge through the crowd.

"Come on!" he shouted, thundering through bodies with a single minded purpose. They needed to get away before Monteressa recovered. Before Hartache took her next shot. Before the already approaching flyers reached them, capes a trailing point in the sky, painting a rainbow above the street.

The only thing saving them was the height of the buildings and the flyers’ inability to go above twenty feet. But it was only a matter of time before the flyers made it through the maze to their location. They needed to get under cover and evade, otherwise they’d be overwhelmed.

Tony could feel the warm rush of Seth’s power against his back. The white glow reflected around him even as his helm automatically adjusted the brightness level. He didn’t look back, trusting that Seth was following. He could hear the screams and cries as drones got too close and were burned by Seth’s aura; he didn’t need to see it.

There was the sound of Seth’s gauss rifle firing, clearing some of the path ahead, but it was Tony that slammed his way through the crush of bodies. It was Tony that broke bones and smashed delicate human flesh with a single-minded forward charge.

The flyers were closing in, but Tony reached the nearest building and plowed through the door with glass shattering around him. He charged through aisles stocked with baby toys and clothes, maternity wear, and furniture that broke with startling ease. He kept going, Seth keeping the following drones from crowding around them, slowing them down with their breakable human bodies.

All Tony knew was that he needed to keep them moving before the drones managed to clear the pile up of bodies from the door. Or before Monteressa knocked down the wall, letting in the swarm.

Tony suddenly cut left and plowed through the side wall into the neighboring store. It looked like some kind of Scottish supply place, smelling of leather polish and wool, framed tartans mounted on the walls.

Tony kept moving, shoving what he could out of his way, but mostly crashing through it. His heart sounded a steady beat in his ears, faster than normal, but a tempo that he could move to.

He focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he crashed through three more buildings before judging from the map that breaking through the back wall of the furniture store would put them on Fuller Avenue. The other shops would have opened on a narrow alley of tight-squeezes.

Breaking through that final wall, he staggered a little dazedly before shaking it off. Even with his near invulnerability, he was going to be aching tomorrow.

Like in most big cities, the buildings were reinforced to prevent the average metahuman with superstrength from being able to blow through the walls. So while the adjoining walls had been rebar laced cinder blocks filled with concrete, the back wall of the furniture store had been reinforced with plastisteel. Which would be dangerous if a fire broke out, as the firefighters would have a hard time breaking through it, but it was more than enough to stop most thieves.

"You okay?" Seth asked.

"I’m good," he growled through gritted teeth, not slowing down. They were running at speed, boots pounding the pavement.

Already he could hear the shouts of the mob changing direction, closing in. He was glad the hive mind had been too dumb to pack the neighboring streets with bodies, but he wasn’t going to underestimate its ability to learn. If they slowed down, they’d be hedged in, trapped for the metahumans with superstrength and offensive capabilities to handle.

They had to keep moving or they were done. There were too many people in the city for them to fight every single one and survive.

"Take the lead," he said, moving back so Seth was in front. Even with his helm adjusted, he was blinded for the seconds until Seth’s bright aura blinked out.

Tony knew himself well enough to recognize when he needed to pass off command. He had no idea where they should go next, which meant it was time for Seth to step up.

"We’ll lose our pursuers," Seth said, "then get back on track with our mission."

"Roger."

"Roger, roger," Seth said in imitation of a B1 battle droid.

Tony rolled his eyes and felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. As long as there were jokes, then there was hope they would see things through. They would complete the mission and make it home.

He followed Seth and held onto his belief that they weren’t going to fail. Not today.

---

Stealing a car would have been an option worth exploring if there had been other vehicles driving around. It was eerie with no motors running and empty streets in which to run down. He wondered if maybe the hive mind couldn’t use enough control to get groups of people driving.

It was the telecontroller’s dilemma. Being able to remote control human beings, but only able to move them like action figures. Because the more bodies one mind tried to control, the harder it was, and the more jerky and unnatural the motions.

Setting a bunch of mindcontrolled people to a single task was easier than trying to focus on too many minds at once. There was a reason Mindswap walked around in one meatsuit at a time. Suppressing the native mind without causing the body to die from shock was a talent.

Still, having millions of bodies that responded to the same attack command was hard to beat. Even if they couldn’t drive cars and act autonomously, they were able to converge on the same location and clog up escape routes. It gave the drones with metabilities the time to gather.

Part of Seth was panicking at the near to impossible task in front of him. Most of him kept moving forward, ducking and dodging down streets and running through buildings as needed. The rest of him was a gibbering mess praying they made it through alive and unmaimed.

"This is the last circle round," he said. "We’re in it to win it after this."

"Good. We’ve run more today than I’ve run in months. I might possibly be out of shape." The sound of Tony’s voice belied his words. His breath wasn’t coming too fast and he wasn’t straining to keep up with Seth.

"You’ve got longer legs than me. I have to have run twice as much as your lazy ass." Seth held his left hand out at his side, counting down three fingers before flipping his thumb in the down direction.

"Let’s do this," was all Tony said. It made Seth wonder if he was really worth all the trust Tony was showing him. Then he decided that he was grateful for it.

They ran through a series of building and jumped between one parking garage to the next before getting back on track to their target.

There were no pursuers in sight, proof that they’d thrown off the hive mind. It wasn’t going to take very long before they were tracked down, but by then they should have set off their charges and would be free to hole up until the end of the world was over.

Triangle Park was a bright green beacon on their maps. The mileage counter at the corner of his map told Seth they were only 4.6 miles away from their goal.

They were almost there. Almost ready to do or die.

"When we get home, I’m going to make an ice cream sandwich cake with raspberry jam filling and chocolate cream cheese frosting. I’ve been wanting to try it for a while."

"What are you talking about?" Tony asked.

Seth’s lips quirked, though he couldn’t quite manage a real smile at the moment. "I saw some pictures. Three ice cream sandwiches lined up one way, then three more on top in a cross hatch, then another three on top, all slathered with frosting before being sliced. It’s all chocolate graham crackers and vanilla ice cream. I almost licked the screen, the pictures looked so good. I don’t want to die without trying it first."

"Hey, don’t talk like that. We’re not going to die," Tony said.

"I know," Seth said. "I refuse to die before I’ve eaten an ice cream sandwich cake. So we’re going to have to live through today. Deal?"

"Deal."

Seth turned his face forward and focused on running. He was feeling the burn in his legs and there was blood drying stiff on his sleeves, but he wrapped himself in the moment. Holding tight to the thought that they were going to go home and they would have something to celebrate when they got there.

All they had to do was complete their part of the master plan. It was simple.

Triangle Park had recently gone through a redevelopment. Millions of dollars had been poured into transforming it into the park version of paradise, with a splashing fountain, decorative fish pond, exercise area, children’s playground, and the kind of groundskeeping marvels that had seen the park featured in magazines. Only now there was a makeshift circus tent shrouding whatever project the drones were working on. Thousands of sheets had been sewn together into a rippling wall of white, red, and Spongebob Squarepants.

It should have been whimsical. Serious adult bedsheets interspersed with the sheets of childhood. An apparatus looming high in the sky to hold up a tent made out of bedsheets. It should have been a hint of the strange in an otherwise normal world, and instead it made Seth feel threatened.

Because whatever was behind that sheet tent, it was dangerous. It was something a single-focused hive mind had gone out of its way to hide from human satellites and their cameras. It was some secret weapon that was waiting to be unleashed.

Which was why Seth and Tony had been tasked with blowing it up.

Aliens were trying to get a foothold on Earth. There was a lot of suspicious activity happening in Star City, but the aliens were smart enough to keep things obscured. Which meant dozens of superhero groups had been given lists of probable targets before being sent out.

Any target could be the one that stopped the aliens. Any mission could be the one that stopped giant killer aliens from making Earth their new home. Each target had a chance of being the one that stopped a war. And no one knew which missions and which group was the important one.

So right now, examining the scene that was Triangle Park, Seth felt his focus tightening. This could be for all the marbles, and he refused to be the one to fuck things up.

"Good luck," he breathed.

"You too," Tony said.

Then they were moving in opposite directions, Seth headed toward the swan-topped fountain, Tony toward the gazebo. If they survived, they were to meet up past the East Gate on the far end of the park. If they didn’t survive… well, then they’d be dining in Valhalla and none of this mattered anyway.

There were drones moving around the big tent. Carrying planks of wood and coils of wire, tromping around in their own little world. Seth was glad not to be noticed.

He stayed to the peripherals, moving amongst the trees. He wanted to use the cover as long as possible before he was forced to expose himself. He felt like he had a target painted on his skin. One drone catching sight of him too soon and everything would be over.

As he walked, he dropped tiny thumbtack charges. Unless they were being shoved into a keyhole to blow the lock on a door, they were mostly a popping firecracker sound and a bit of light. But they could be activated with a simple remote, and he figured a bit of distraction would do him good.

Ghosting amongst the trees, he set the camera on his helm to 360-degrees and hoped it was recording everything. No matter what happened, Overwatch would appreciate the enemy intel. Even if they got it from a satellite transmission after he was already dead.

He knelt down to pile the last of the thumbtack charges on the ground and smoothed a handful of loose dirt on top of them.

He wasn’t looking to start a fire, but the surrounding brush was dry and he could hope a little. It would make the perfect distraction while he made his getaway.

Seth rose to his feet, slipping his pack into his arms, and moseyed around the edge of the park, trying to remain unnoticed. He was glad the aliens were in their own personal world for the most part. It let him walk right past the fountain and drop the pack under one of the benches.

He kept walking at a steady pace, ignoring the nerves crawling along his spine. He wondered how Tony was doing and hoped that he’d gotten away.

He drew even with a public restroom and reached into his pocket to toggle the detonator.

The thumbtack charges went off with a series of popping cracks that culminated in a mass detonation that was surprisingly loud. He saw drones running passed the bathroom and took the opportunity to head toward the East Gate.

---

Sweat was soaking through Tony’s shirt and paranoia made him think that he was being watched. He could be caught at any moment, though he kept walking.

Five minutes, he thought. That was how much time he had to get away before the bombs blew.

Seth had set up some kind of distraction, and how Tony hadn’t wet himself when the crackling-pops had gone off was a pure miracle. But the drones were still occupied, a gathering crowd circling the distant tree-line.

If Tony had a grenade launcher, they’d all be dead in two shots. The brain controlling the drones wasn’t very smart, or at least hadn’t learned human tactics yet.

There was a reason the precogs were saying this was the only time to prevent a foothold. Because once the Gate was open, the more dangerous minds would come through and straightforward guerrilla tactics would no longer work.

It was with a sigh of relief that he spotted Seth lingering at the East Gate. The drones wouldn’t have spotted him under the brush cover he was ducked behind, but to Tony’s HUD he glowed friendly green.

Tony walked past, not breaking stride, and Seth appeared at his side. They kept moving at an even pace as the clock in the corner of the HUD counted down to 00:00.

There was a flash of light behind them and the sound of a million birds chirping. Instinct had them breaking into a run, the noise dampening on their helms not enough to completely block the sound. To unprotected ears it must have been agony.

"What was that? I though those were bombs–you know, ones that go bang–but whatever that was did not seem like an explosion."

"No clue. Keep moving."

There was the echo of wailing cries around them, a harsh counterpoint to the shrilling bird chirp. Tony risked a glance back and saw drones writhing on the ground, hands clutching ears that bled red.

He spotted something shiny and metallic rising from behind one man and that was enough for him.

He faced forward and ran until his lungs ached. Fled the memory of whatever that thing had been, with spiderlike legs on a centipede body and a needle-ridged maw gaping where a mouth should be. All he knew was that he didn’t want whatever that was to touch him. Didn’t want it to find a home in his body, nestled snug along his spine as it fed through into his mind.

He ran as though his life depended on it and didn’t stop until the sound of birds was a distant memory.

/END EXCERPT

Thoughts?