Last edited 02 Dec 2001 02:45 PM

"You sure you can do this," Victor asked.  His half-helm was back on, and he stood in front of Iris.  She wasn't sure whether she could hear a smile in his voice, but she assumed he was being serious.

"Of course," she said.  "I've carried stuff before.  I should be able to do this."

"You should."  He made it a statement, not a question.

"Will.  I will."

"Good," Victor told her, and this time he was smiling, that confidence-instilling smile he had.  "This is a critical part of the mission.  And, frankly, I'd rather not get dropped off en route."  

The others had already headed off to their staging points.  It was their turn.  Victor turned his back on her.  

She hesitated a moment, then stepped forward, sliding her arms under his, and not quite being able to reach around his chest.  Wow.  She immediately felt embarrassed about the sudden lust in her heart (and elsewhere) for Victor (This is Victor for God's sake -- it's like lusting after the American Flag!), and then angry at her embarrassment.

"Well -- here we go."

She used her telekinesis to grab him tightly and securely, enmeshing the two of them in a pale violet aura, and then further extended her power to raise them up off the ground.  Not fly -- she would need a lot more practice before she could fly carrying someone, or would trust herself to do so (or until Victor would trust her to be able to do so), but she could do the "Twenty League Boots" stuff and stride across suburbia something like a giant.

Not exactly, of course.  If she really lifted them up twenty feet in the air, as she was capable of, they'd be pretty visible.  There was a certain stealth element to their prong of the attack.  So she was raise them up high enough to step over the fence between yards, and then back down to only a few feet off the ground -- it was just as simple since she was doing it all telekinetically -- until they'd cross the next yard.

That made for a lot of yards, as they skirted the edges of the foothills through the yards that backed up to them.  Her only surprise -- having only been in Southern California once, and that under rather distracting conditions -- was that there were not nearly as many swimming pools as she'd expected.  She had a New Yorker's view of Los Angeles as a realm of palms and pools. It idly occurred to her to wonder if any movie stars lived in the houses she was passing by.  Probably not -- she was pretty certain they would have multiple swimming pools.

"Everything going okay?" Victor asked.  "No fatigue?"

"After all those boring drills you put me through?  No way," Iris replied.  

"Which is, of course, why I put you through them."

"Careful.  I'll drop you in a swimming pool."

Victor chuckled, then was quiet.  They slipped through some nicer homes, ones which had been built around at least some of the live oaks that dotted the area.  "I was out here, right after the war," Victor said, conversationally, but a bit quietly, as if conjuring up memories.  "This area was all still scrub and oak and little ranches.  No freeways yet, of course, to move all these people out here.  Route 66 just a bit down the way, but once you got past what was built along the highway, there wasn't all that much."  

With a start, she realized that he was talking about after the Second World War.  Hell, she had two great-grandfathers who had fought in that war.  Victor might even have met them.  It's got to be so weird to be that old, she thought to herself.

"Whoa.  Slow down.  Yeah, this is it, let's set down right about here."

They'd encountered a long street that stretched north-south for a ways, at right angles to both Tartan and, lower down, Route 66.  It was, in fact, the street that ran between the high school and the church -- Centervale Drive.

At present, they were tucked back between two older houses nestled against a hill.  that provided cover.  The street, unfortunately, provided none.  However --

Victor had taken a couple of steps away from Iris as soon as she'd let go.  If he was at all disturbed by being carried around by her (or by having my hot young bod pressed up against his), there was no sign.  He was looking around, either for possible hostiles, or --

He glanced back at her, and gave her a fatherly smile, even though he really didn't look old enough to be her father.  "Tactical recommendations?" he asked?

She uttered a small moan.  If there was anything she hated worse than being drilled in physical or telekinetic tasks, it was doing these sorts of exercises.  She stepped forward, giving a look herself.

"Um -- the street is too open.  There's just houses on the one side -- uh, the west.  And they're all pretty new-looking, so not much cover.  Other side is dirt, and that fence, and -- whatever that ditch is beyond the fence."

"Flood control channel.  Those are observations.  Recommendations?"

"Um -- sit tight here until the distractions start, then head toward the church as fast as we can?"

Victor shook his head.  "Too far.  Even at a full run, it would take us more minutes than we want to spare, and we'd be visible the entire way.  Plan B?"

I hate this.  I hate this.  I hate this.  Maybe I should have tried to be a rock star.  "Head south through the houses.  Get down to the signal down there, and then it's a shorter run to the church?"

"Not bad.  But that would take us a while, unless we used your method of travel -- and that's getting pretty close to the action to be that visible.  Plan C?"

Iris considered, then shrugged.  "Ask someone who had more tactical experience than I do?"

Victor grinned.  "Nothing wrong with that.  Follow me."  He broke into a sprint, crossing the street as fast as he could run.  Iris, startled for a moment, ran after him.

He was across the street in second, the vivid red, white, and blue of his outfit making him very visible for that brief interval.  He bounded through the weeds, took a leap, and vaulted over the chain link fence on the opposite side.  Two more steps, then he vanished down into the flood control channel.

"Aha," Iris muttered.  "The infamous Plan C."  Telekinetic hands reached out, pulled her over the fence, then as she hopped in herself, let her land softly in the dirt and rocks at the bottom of the channel.

The channel was perhaps fifteen feet across, and at least that far below ground level.  "Wow.  This is deeper than I thought."

Victor nodded.  "And I saw on the map that it curves --"  He gestured in either direction.  "-- so there's no vantage point that could see us at a distance, except a flier."

"And it's not a 'tactical problem' that we're at the bottom of a very long hole?"

He eyed the wall.  "I can make it to the top without any problem.  I know you can, too.  So --?"

"So not a problem."

He nodded, and set forth south.  He was walking, so Iris had no problems keeping up with him.  For all he'd said, he was remaining cautious.

They'd gone a few minutes, when he stopped, holding up a hand.

"What --"

"Shh."

There was a rumbling, rattling noise coming from behind them, along the channel.  They looked at each other, then hugged against the walls, along the inside of the shallow curve of the channel, so that they would be visible the least amount of time to whatever was approaching.

It broke into the open, and both stared at it for a moment.  It was a huge chariot, with a large star-spangled canopy over it.  It was being drawn by two huge -- well, they looked like lions with women's heads and breasts, the one on the left (driver's left) being pale white, the one on the right in black.

The driver was equally outlandish, a tall, powerful man in armor and a crown, a rod of some sort in his right hand.  He clearly saw Iris and Victor, for he swung the chariot over toward them, raising the rod like a club to strike at them if he didn't run them down.

The Staff of Victory was suddenly in Victor's hands, but Iris frowned, then held up her hands.  In her mind, her telekinesis was like two large hands in front of her, and she used them to push at the oncoming chariot.  

The creatures pulling it slammed into the telekinetic hands, stumbling and then shying away.  The chariot lurched to the side, and abruptly toppled over, sending the driver tumbling away --

-- and then the driver, the chariot, and the draft creatures vanished in a puff of white dust, which slowly settled into place.

"What the hell was that thing?" Victor asked, rhetorically.

"The Chariot!" Iris said, snapping the fingers of her left hand.  

"I know it was a chariot, but --"

"No, the Chariot.  I knew I recognized it.  The Tarot card, one of the Major Arcana.  Uh, Suzanne Hannigan and I used to play with Tarot cards sometimes, after school in seventh grade."

Victor frowned slightly.  "But what's it doing here?"  He held up a hand.  "Stupid question.  We've most likely been spotted.  Let's move --"

A flash of orange out of the corner of his eye, and Victor was tackling Iris, pushing her out of the way.  A second later, the spot they'd been standing was filled with searing flames.  

"Go!" Victor shouted, turning and running toward the figure up on the edge of the channel, firing down on them.

Wild Iris used her TK to run up into the air to the top of the channel.  As she climbed she considered taking to the air, but her offensive abilities from there were still uncertain, let alone her ability to throw up any sort of defense against whoever was shooting at them --

-- or not at them any more.  She looked over, and saw a yellow-and-orange armored figure about thirty yards away, standing at the edge of the flood control channel, and firing blips of orange down at Victor -- blips which burst into explosive balls of fire.

Victor, however, wasn't there.  He was still charging the attacker, dodging and rolling, and then, as he got close, he used a concussive blast from the end of this staff to "vault" up to where the attacker was --

(All those recognition drills (more drills!) Victor put them through on a regular basis were paying off.  Iris recognized the armored figure.  Rapidfire.  He stole the suit from Gorgon -- no, the guy before him did, and they rubbed him out, but this guy got the suit and decided to keep using it. A quick summary ran through her head as to his capabilities, known weaknesses, et cetera.  I just can't remember his real name --

"-- Eddie, Eddie, Eddie," Victor was saying as he landed, boots first, onto Rapidfire's chest.  "There's a reason you avoid New York, remember?"  Victor had leapt back off his target, as Rapidfire tumbled back to the ground.  Victor landed on his feet, and used the staff to smash into a gloved hand Rapidfire was raising to shoot at him.  Sparks flew.  "It's because the last time you were there, I ended up sending you for five-to-twenty at Attica."

The tableaux froze, as Rapidfire half-upright, saw the end of Victor's staff stopped a few inches from his face.  Iris suspected that either a sharp thrust or a blast from that end cause the the armored man a great deal of discomfort.  Either tactic was likely to happen faster than the armored man could get another shot off.

"What's the situation, Eddie?" Victor said, casually but with no mistake as to the intensity of his concentration.

Iris heard hoof beats, and twirled around to see a white horse bearing down on her, in the saddle a tall, armored man, swinging a sword that glinted menacingly.    Behind him, she could see, briefly, a tall black woman, dressed in exotic robes, throwing several things into the air.  There were flashes of light, and those somethings turned into men and women in medieval garb, bearing one or more sword each, charging behind the horseman.  There were disembodied swords as well, floating in the air toward her.

"Screw this noise," she said, leaping into the air, unfurling psychokinetic wings to either side, and beating her way off the ground.  The Knight of Swords (she was getting the idea now came to a stop beneath her, waving his sword like a mad-man, shouting obscenities at her in French.  She assumed they were obscenities, since they didn't sound like some romantic French wooing words.  she blew him a kiss, though, just in case.

The floating swords starting floating up in her direction, waving and twirling and looking generally menacing.  The question was -- knowing what happened before, at the bank robbery, did she dare try to split her attention and strike out at them?  Only one way to find out -- and at least this time I'm ready to recover if need be.  Maybe that nice knight will break my fall ...

She reached with a psychokinetic hand, while still feeling the pulsing beat of her wings.  It got up to the first of the swords, enveloped it -- Don't think of it as a sword sticking into your hand!  She faltered briefly, dropped a few feet, then got the rhythm back.  That's it -- that's how the birds to it.  Or would, if they were me.

The sword was hard -- she might be able to bend it if she did it with two "hands" -- but instead it was easier to simply grab it and hurl it down at the Knight.  It struck him clean in the chest, and he and his horse vanished in another puff of white dust.

"Cool!"  She began beating her way over toward the woman in robes, grabbing another floating sword as she did.

*     *     *

"I don't know why we're here!  I don't know!"  "Fast" Eddie Marcos was not happy with his situation.  They'd said it would all work out easy, that we had the other side outnumbered.  Why was it, whenever I go up against guys like Victor, I always ended up getting my hat handed to me?

"Who's 'we, ' Eddie? Who's jamming our comms?" There was a fierce urgency in Victor's voice.  I can't get through to the others -- and I'm sure I heard gunfire. We need to finish this and move in!   Who else is lurking out there?"

"I dunno!  I don't know most of 'em."

"Descriptions, then, Eddie.  And make it quick -- Iris could use some help, and I'd really rather not have to rush taking you down."

That's when the the earth opened up.

*     *     *

Iris swooped down toward the black woman in the multi-colored robes.  She was frantically riffling through was she could see was a large deck of cards -- presumably a Tarot deck.

"Take this, Miss Cleo!" Iris shouted enthusiastically.  Her telekinetic hand hurled the sword it had captured down toward the woman -- pommel first, to be sure.

And the earth opened up, and a huge stone tower was rising up from it, like Jack's beanstalk, hurtling toward her like a freight train ...

"Oh, shi --" 

*     *     *

"Iris!" Victor cried out as he saw her struck by the structure.  His attention was drawn by just that much for just that long.

The point-blank blast from Rapidfire's still-functioning gauntlet blew him twenty feet back.  He was out before he hit the ground.

*     *     *

Iris lay on the ground.  She'd been clipped by the building, tumbled, just as the sword butt had struck the woman with the Tarot cards.  The Tower had vanished, along with all the swords and their wielders, and she'd barely managed to project a telekinetic cushion before she hit the weeds and dirt at the side of the road.

She slowly pushed herself up on both -- Aaah!  She rolled over onto her back, clutching gently at her right forearm, trying to hold it still.  "Son of a --"

The air in front of her flickered, and a tall, powerful armored figure, jet-black in color save for a large swastika-on-red in the center of his chest, shimmered into view.  "GOOD NIGHT, LITTLE BIRD," an accented voice grated out, as lighting coursed from his hand into Iris' body.

She gave a short shriek, then lay very still.

Doktor Schreck glanced over at the prone body of Tarot, then down the road to where Rapidfire was doing a foolish little victory dance around Victor's fallen form.  Idioten.  But they serve their purpose.  Now these Americans are all mine, as I was told.  And with their deaths I will at last have the power to rule the world.

Interlude

Though the chamber belonged to Sam, Ella pressed into it as though it were her own.  "Sam!  You've heard?  They --"  She stopped in mid-stride, her azure robes flowing about her.  "Sam?  What are you doing?"

He silently finished cinching the breastplate into place, and reached down for his helm.  By his side, ruddy light glowed and flickered.

"No, Sam!  You mustn't!  Without the command --"

"There will be no command!" he snapped at her.  Then, softer, "No command.  We must decide for ourselves."  A slightest twitch of a smile touched his lips.  "That was the point, was it not?  To decide for ourselves?"

"Then you know."

"Of their capture?  Of course."

"But how did it happen?  When you and Bob --"

"I don't know, all right!?"  He looked away, rubbing his forehead.  "I'm not -- omniscient.  We chose poorly.  They were too powerful.  And now our choice has endangered lives, and put the entire plan at risk."

"Sam --"  Her hand fell on his forearm, as he was about to don his helm.  "Don't.  Just stand by.  Our chosen may prove more resilient than look.  Remember, Karen didn't foresee --"

"I wonder if even Karen is even as great as once she was," Sam said, softly, even with a hint of bitterness.  "You're right, though.  I cannot just march in and resolve this.  Not yet.  But I will stand by close at hand, where they are.  I cannot let any delay result in their deaths."

"You'll be out of touch."

He smiled at her, grimly.  "That's been our problem for some time now.  Adding to it a little bit will not make things go further wrong."

She nodded, reluctantly, and stepped back, and he donned his helm.  He was of gold and scarlet, of lightning and flame, and the air behind him trembled and snapped.  She remembered him in battle, and trembled softly herself.

"Mind your temper as well," she added, trying to keep that tremor from her voice.  "Without the command, it would be too easy for you to let your wrath --"

"If I do lose my temper, they will have cause to regret it," Sam replied.  His eyes were like embers in the shadow of his helm.  She noticed he didn't promise anything.  He paused a moment, as though considering more to say to her, and then strode from the room.

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Copyright © 2001 David C. Hill