Ex-Heroes, Peter Clines [reading like a writer txt] 📗

he knew she was right. It would take him months to live this down. If he was alive months from now. “What should we do, then?” he growled.

“Get home,” Cerberus said. “Seal the stages, just like we’ve always planned. Anyone who can fight, I’m pretty sure we’ll need it and we can use you, but it’s more important to stay and protect your families.”

She stomped back a few steps and the last rays of sunlight gleamed on her armor. “And for God’s sake, everyone try to stay calm,” she added. “Tonight’s going to be bad enough without a riot inside the walls, okay?”

Stealth had covered half a mile. She raced across rooftops, hurled herself over alleys, and dispatched any ex in her way with a savage blow. When St. George caught up, she was charging down Doheny Drive, her hood draped back over her shoulders. He dropped down, grabbed her by the shoulders, and bounded back up to the rooftops.

“You okay?”

“I am fine,” she panted. She took three deep breaths, stilled the gasping, and pulled her hood back into place. “You are bruised.”

He looked at himself. Red and purple spots blossomed across his skin. And most of his pants had crumbled away. “You notice I’m bruised before you notice I’m almost naked?”

“I have seen naked men before. I have never seen you bruised.”

“Yeah, well, it takes a hell of a lot. For the bruising.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He looked at her, hidden in the shadows of the hood. “Since when do you actually care?”

“Of course I care,” she said. “You are a valuable asset.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

She glanced at the sky. “We have less than half an hour until darkness.”

St. George shook his head and gestured for her to rest. “Don’t worry. We’ve got a good lead. Even if they were ready to march, they can’t make it across the city that fast.”

She glared at him. “If he was controlling the ex in our cells from Century City, what kind of range does that indicate?”

A map of Los Angeles blossomed in his mind, covered by a wide red circle. “Hell.”

She pointed at the street below them. The milling exes were all still shuffling and stumbling, but there was a rhythm to their movements. They were wandering north. “His army is already at the Mount,” she said. “You should go on ahead of me.”

“No way. We go together.”

“I can manage without you.”

“Maybe. But the Mount can’t afford to lose you, either.” He held out his hand. “You’re a pretty valuable asset, too.”

She looked at him for just a moment with the faint tilt of her head that meant she was thinking. Then she grabbed his hand with both of hers.

St. George leaped into the air, dragging her up behind him. He swung his arm and Stealth flew through the air to land on the rooftops across the street. She took off running and he soared after her.

Gorgon stood between Christian Nguyen and the trucks. Christian stood between him and the crowd. Harry the driver stood near her left shoulder, Diamint by her right, and almost two hundred people behind her.

“You can’t tell us what to do,” she snapped. “No one elected you. No one voted for you. If we want to leave, you have no authority to stop us.”

“I don’t,” he agreed, “but I’ve got a responsibility to keep you safe. Even when you don’t want me to.”

She laughed. “We’ve all seen your idea of safe,” she sneered. “We’re surrounded by monsters and someone dies every week.”

“And you think there’s somewhere better out there? You think Burbank is fine and we’re just keeping it secret?”

“That’s for us to find out,” said Diamint. “None of us came here to die.”

“No one is going to die!”

“The Seventeens are all exes now!”

“We’re supposed to be safe,” yelled a woman. “St. George said it would be safe here.”

“You are safe,” Gorgon shouted.

“The Mount’s already surrounded!”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” yelled Christian. “We’re just cannon fodder to you. You’re going to use us to cover your own escape! You’re going to leave us here to die!”

The crowd tilted and became a mob.

“We’re taking the trucks. That’s that.” The heavyset driver stepped forward with his fists clenched.

Gorgon lifted a warning finger. “Don’t try it, Harry.”

Harry tried it and ended up on his back with a bleeding nose. A blond man made a run for the trucks and Gorgon backhanded him into the mob. Someone deeper in raised a pistol.

“You can’t stop us all,” Christian shrieked, and her face dropped as the words left her mouth.

His goggles irised open and he left them open. He felt dozens and dozens of eyes lock onto his. The strength crashed over him like a wave, every muscle in his body spasmed, and his nerves buzzed with pins and needles like they’d been asleep for days.

Tier six, he thought. A solid tier six.

Over seventy people dropped. Their legs folded, their necks lolled, and they fell with their eyes still locked on his. He was pleased to see Christian was one of them. She was going to have a great bruise on the side of her head.

“There’s too much going on to deal with this right now,” he bellowed. The lenses snapped shut. “You all need to go back to your homes and make sure the buildings are secure. Those of you who can still walk need to help those who can’t.”

Their eyes went skyward and a murmur passed through the crowd.

St. George dropped down to the pavement. Except for a pair of shredded jeans he was mostly naked, and it was obvious he was hoping no one would notice. His exposed skin was covered with bruises and welts.

The hero looked at Gorgon but spoke to the crowd. “What’s going on?”

“Just explaining to these folks you were coming back from your mission as soon as possible.”

“There was doubt?”

“There was.” Under his breath Gorgon added, “You look like you got the shit beat out of you.”

St. George