Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (52 page)

Gurrier’s finger closed on the
trigger and fired a round pointblank into his own chest.  The blast harmlessly
impacted his impervious body, and the twisted metal rounds fell to the wet
cement.  He didn’t even blink. 

The other man’s face became awash
with horror and he fell backwards, then scrambled to his feet and retreated
back into his store, quickly locking the glass doors.  

Gurrier tossed the weapon to
Vaudeville, and threw a handful of change at the closed door to pay for the
cheese puffs.  Then he looked over at Stacy, who had returned to eating her
pilfered snacks.  “I think you were right, Kid.”  He pointed in the opposite
direction to the one they had previously been heading in.  “I think this
IS
the way we should be going.  Good call, Boss.”

She thoughtfully munched on her
cheesy puff, confused for a moment about which direction she had previously
indicated, and then brightened.  “Thanks!  Like I said, it all comes with being
leader, you know?  I mean Killian and Wich never listen to me, but I
totally
know what I’m doing.”

Gurrier took a puff from her bag and
ate if as he strolled down the street.  “I can see that.”

Vaudeville was at least MARGINALLY
sure that they were now headed in the correct direction.  Not that he was
overly anxious to rejoin the battle, but it was technically his job now, so
best to get it over with.  The buildings around them began to show more and
more signs of damage, so he could only assume that they were close to the
center of the fight now.  Damn.  This city was really getting messed up.  HE
wasn’t going to be the one to pay for it, that was sure.

A large man with the head of a bull
ran out in front of their little group and skidded to a stop.  He stared at
them for long moment.  They stared back.  After what seemed like an eternity, he
charged at them, and Hazz decked him with a huge right hand and knocked him backwards
half a block.  The bull man hit the side of a TV van and staggered to his feet,
obviously not used to being smacked aside so effortlessly.  He ripped the door
off of the van and yanked a blonde woman from inside it and held her up in
front of him as they approached.  “Take one more step and I’ll kill her.  I’ll
do it! 
I’LL FUCKING DO IT!”

Hazz eyed him expressionlessly.  “Might
want to rethink that threat, Mister.  We’re super-villains; we don’t give a
shit.  Hell, I might just kill her myself when I’m done with you.  It’s kind of
been my vocation for a century or two.”

Vaudeville trained his bow on the
man’s face.  “Yeah.  Best if you just
Moo-ve
along there, Elsie.  Leave
villainy to the villains.”

The man grasped the reporter’s neck
in one hand, his eyes darting back and forth as he searched for an exit.  Stacy
casually placed her hand on the wet pavement and an arc of electricity shot up
through the man from the puddle he was standing in, and he was thrown
backwards, dropping the woman in the process.  He hit the side of the van again
and glared at them, preparing to charge.  Cory released the bow string and the
man toppled over dead, an arrow sticking out of his eye socket.

Cory looked down at the woman
trying to look cool, his voice deadpan.  “
Bullseye
.”  He tried to keep
his composure, but then couldn’t help laughing.  “HA!  Cause he’s a bull.  Get
it?”  He waited for her to react, and then simply rolled his eyes and went to
retrieve his arrow.  “Jesus, people!?!  Opportunities like that don’t just pop
up every day, you know?  How often as an archer do you get to shoot an evil
bull man in the face, and
legitimately
be able to make that pun?  Huh? 
Not too often I’d wager, and yet you guys just want to critique my
performance.  I don’t care what you say, that’s
funny
.  And I KNOW funny;
I was a host on
SNL
three times
before my career change, and they
LOVED me.”

The woman pulled herself to her feet. 
Hey!  It was Connie Storms of the Channel 6 Action News team.  Awesome. Her
face looked stunned.  “…But…you’re the
villains…
?”

“I’m not a villain.”  Stacy
frowned.  “Why do people keep saying that?”

Cory slipped the arrow back into
the quiver.  “Villain is such a
strong
word, Ms. Storms, and it always
upsets my young companion here.  I think I would prefer ‘
ethically
challenged
’.”

The reporter brushed herself off,
and then ran to retrieve the camera which was sitting in the gutter and trained
it on him.  “Fine.  Just what are you and your
ethically challenged
team
doing?”

He frowned and smoothed a hand over
his head so that he looked his best for the people at home.  “Didn’t you hear
the Commodore’s inspirational speech earlier?  Very moving. 
Movie of the
week
, moving.  I would think that if you EVER want to beat Victoria McNeal
and the Channel 9 News team, you really would try harder to stay on top of
current events.  You see, Connie…I
can
call you Connie, right?  Connie, morality
is like a wardrobe; it changes with the season.  We here at the Consortium
of…um…
Caring
are simply trying to protect the innocent.  We’re out here,
doing our part for the good of the city. 
OUR
city.”

The reporter didn’t look
convinced.  “I see.  And what would you say to all those people in our audience
who believe this is simply another evil plan the Commodore has cooked up?”

Vaudeville’s brow compressed in
thought.  “Well, I suppose I’d have to assure them that I don’t take offense at
being victimized by their out of control suspicions; it just means that they’ve
been paying attention to our show all these years, and it’s always nice as a
performer to know that the audience is watching."  He waved at the
camera.  “Thanks, folks!  We do all this for YOU, the fans!”

“So this isn’t another plan to take
over the city.”

He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  …Maybe. 
You’re really going to have to talk to Mr. Ferral, or someone in management about
that for a more definite answer.  I don’t write the lines, I just play my part. 
As far as I know, though, this is totally on the legit.  …
Probably
.”

“Well, that’s certainly not very
comforting.”

He gestured for her to follow them. 
“I’ve found that few things in life are, Connie.”

They made their way back to the
large intersection at the center of the battle.  He glanced up at a large
machine which the heroes had been taking somewhere.  This was probably their
doomsday device thing.  WAY over engineered.  The Consortium’s doomsday devices
were far more elegant and streamlined.  He glanced over as Megaris smashed open
the window of a bookstore and ducked inside.  He turned to the camera.  “That’s
Megaris our team…um…mascot.  Megaris…Mandelbrot…Tsundere.”

The reporter watched the woman.  “Why
is her head on fire?”

Cory cleared his throat.  “She’s…
Norwegian
.”

The woman frowned at his non
sequitur, apparently trying to decipher what he meant by that.  Cory’s father
had always said that if you answered a question you didn’t want to answer, with
something that SOUNDED like an answer, it made people happy.  Few people would
admit that they didn’t understand what you said, when you had made it sound
like only an IDIOT would be unable to follow it.  It was how Cory survived
dozens of interviews with TV magazines before his career change.

…At least, he THOUGHT that guy was
his father, anyway.  He wasn’t sure anymore, since most of his memories were
apparently fictional.  He squinted in thought.  He was
reasonably
sure
that it was the one with the mustache who said it, though.  And that was…
TV
dad?  Right?

He shrugged, realizing that he just
didn’t know.  ONE of them had said it, and that was that mattered.

He blinked down at the controls of
the machine.  Nope.  He had no idea what any of this meant.  Knobs and switches
and blinking lights.  When the CONSORTIUM built a doomsday device, they made
sure it had two features; a large toggle handle to turn it on and off, and a
self-destruct button which the heroes could heroically press at the last moment
and save the day.  He had never understood WHY the weapons department always
did that, but he was beginning to appreciate their attention to the machine’s
ease of use.  THIS thing was going to be impossible to understand.

It reminded him of the time his
sister had…wait…or maybe he was an only child?  Who was that girl with the
curly blonde hair then?  An actress?  Why had she been living in his house then? 
...If that even WAS his house.  And was the mustachioed dad there, or that
other guy?

He’d really have to watch the TV
show again, at some point, just to figure out what was “real” and what was
“fiction.”  The problem was, he was too afraid to find out.  It wasn’t easy
learning that half of your life was “fake,” and he was kind of hoping that it
was the not-so-pleasant half.

 Some of his memories were pretty
good, and he wasn’t looking forward to learning that it was an illusion; that
the only people in his life that had ever meant anything to him had been paid
to be there, and they actually felt nothing for him.  That would be a
bad
day.  So, between the two concurrent timelines of his life, there was just
enough there to hack out one happy life.  …Well
, happy
was an
overstatement, but it was a
tolerable
life anyway.  Just enough to convince
himself that all the…bad times…were fake.  He didn’t want to go picking around
in his skull for fear that it would all come crashing down.  But in his quiet
moments when he was honest with himself, he suspected the truth on that front. 
He just wasn’t ready to admit it.  …He wasn’t anywhere
near
ready.

Who got to say what reality was
anyway?  He could remember every detail of two different “real” lives, so why
shouldn’t he be able to mix-and-match?  It only made sense.  But then again,
both his court ordered psychiatrists, and the nice people at the various mental
institutions, had disagreed, but what did THEY know?  One…or possibly
both
of his fathers had always said that you shouldn’t take what other people said
about you to heart.  Or…maybe only one of them had said that, and the other one
had said that he needed to listen better?  Hmmm…Which one of them was punching
him at the time?  He didn’t remember…well, whichever, the point was; Cory knew
what he was doing.

He stared down at the board for a
moment longer.  “I have no idea what I’m doing.”  He looked back at his
companions.  “Someone want to get Holly on the horn and tell her to come deal
with this thing?”

Stacy shook her head and scrambled
up the ladder to the command deck on top of the structure.  “Nope.  I better
handle this.”

Gurrier’s voice was utterly unemotional.
“Oh thank God.  We’re saved.”

Stacy began flipping all the
toggles on the control panel. 

Gurrier watched her dispassionately. 
“Maybe you should wait until someone who actually knows something about
electronics comes along, to start messing with that.”

She scoffed.  “Oh, stop being such
a worrywart.  I know what I’m doing.  I have a natural understanding of
electronical stuff.”

He sighed in resignation.  “Whatever.”

Vaudeville’s mouth hung open.  “You’re
really just going to let her randomly press buttons on a DOOMSDAY device!”

He shrugged.  “She said she’s got
it.”

“
But
‘
electronical’ isn’t
even a word! 
How can you trust someone who doesn’t even know the right
word for the thing she’s supposed to have a ‘natural understanding’ of!”

Gurrier watched Stacy work and
repeated his earlier words, like that was all the explanation that was needed. 
“She said she’s got it.”

“But she’s a
LUNATIC! 
I
wouldn’t trust her to be mature enough to safely operate a radio controlled Barbie
corvette, let alone a device capable of
killing us all!”

Stacy continued fiddling with the
controls and then stopped suddenly as the panel began lighting up.  “Oops.”

Vaudeville’s head whipped around.  “Oops? 
OOPS?!?
  ‘Oops’ is never a word you want to hear from your doomsday
device technician…”

A slow beeping noise filled the air
and Stacy pursed her lips in thought.  “Umm…I think maybe that red button was
the one I
SHOULDN’T
have pressed
.
”  She paused.  “Well, at least
we know now, right?  We won’t make
THAT
mistake again, that’s for sure.”

She looked over at Gurrier for an
affirmation, and he shrugged again.  “Whatever.”  He watched as the lights on
the control panel continued to blink on and off menacingly.  His voice remained
utterly calm.  “Try not to blame yourself.  I’m sure that would have happened
whether or not you pressed the large red button marked ‘
Activate
.’”

Her head bobbed.  “Yeah, you’re
probably right.”  She laughed.  “That sure was a silly thing to put on the ‘ON’
button, huh?  Like a booby trap or something.”

Gurrier nodded in agreement and
casually ate a cheese puff.  “Yes, it was a fiendishly clever disguise for a
button designed to activate the machine.”

Vaudeville winced as the noise
increased in volume.  Harlot’s voice echoed out from a block away.  “Everything
okay, guys?  What’s that sound!?!  WHAT DID YOU DO!?!”

“Nothing!”  They all chorused.

Cory began pacing back and forth.  “Dammit! 
I REALLY don’t want to die here.  I haven’t won an Oscar yet!”

Stacy ducked under the control
panel, and a moment later, she reappeared dragging a large bunch of wires with
her.  She gave the bundle a hard yank and there was a flash of sparks from
inside the machine, and a small puff of smoke. 

She wiped her cheek, leaving behind
a smear of grease and held the wires out triumphantly.  “Ha!  See?  Told you I
could find the wire I needed!  They tied it to all these useless ones; I don’t
think they even do anything.”  She sat crossed legged on the metal floor and jerked
out the bright blue wire from the cluster, her tongue held between her lips in
concentration.  “Now, all I have to do is cut it, and we’ll be totally golden.”