Freedom Corps HQ, New Galaxy City.
June 16, 2015
“Solomon Island, up in Maine. Ever heard of it?”
Leaning back in her chair, Purrfect Archer considered her coffee for a moment. “I’ve heard some stories about it. The kind the older Midnighters tell to scare the newer generation. Native magics dating back almost as long as Orenbaga. It drew the attention of one of the Illuminati groups after the Templars chased them out of Europe, and they founded the town of Kingsmouth. Black magic, group sacrifices, witch hunts, everything you’d expect out of them. Although supposedly the Innsmouth Academy’s become a quality school for magic in recent generations. I’m guessing something’s happened there?” she added with a faint frown.
“We believe so, but we can’t confirm it,” Ms. Liberty replied, her own frown much deeper. “All contact with the island has been lost, I’ve gotten unconfirmed reports of military deployments, and the Department of Homeland Security seems to have issued a media blackout. And as a final, wonderful touch,” she added, frown deepening into a scowl, “I’ve heard that the Orochi Group has sent a team from Advanced Sciences and at least a few platoons of of their Corporate Security Division into the area.”
Alice W’Tin couldn’t quite suppress a scowl at the last comment. She’d had little experience with the Japanese Megacorp, Crey having put a lot of effort into keeping their rivals out of Paragon over the years. But there were still rumors, and they’d brought a few too many of Creys more questionable components during that Megacorps collapse for any hero to truly trust them. If something on Solomon Island had their attention, there could be a very big problem. “So, if there is a crisis there, why call me?” she asked. “Why not just send in Longbow?” Even as she asked the question however, her eyes narrowed in understanding. “Politics,” she muttered.
“I received a call from Homeland Security this morning,” Liberty confirmed. “They were very insistent that, for the time being, the Freedom Corps focus their attention on the Isles, and that any action on American soil outside Paragon would not be encouraged. And, just in case I decided to ignore that advice, they just ‘happened’ to mention that they would be reviewing the Scirocco case at the end of the week.”
That comment earned a scowl from the catgirl. Sciroccos defection from Arachnos was a constant political nightmare for everyone involved. A lot of people felt that, regardless of his good intentions, his past actions with Arachnos were simply too much to allow a parole system like the one offered to the New Praetorians. Alice wasn’t sure where she stood on the issue, but the fact that Homeland Security was so willing to play that card to try and ground Longbow... “Charming. Someone in Washington isn’t a big believer in subtlety today,” she muttered.
“Indeed. I’ve got too many issues they could disrupt to risk starting a fight with them now,” Liberty admitted. “But if there is trouble on Solomon Island, I want someone on the scene whose skills and judgement I can trust, and who has the resources to get there quickly.” She smiled slightly. “I understand that Riot Force has recently acquired the hardware and equipment to do that?”
“You understand correctly.” Alice replied, finishing her coffee and placing the cup back on its saucer. It didn’t surprise her that Longbow knew about the advanced transports they’d managed to acquire from their other-dimensional allies. Portal Corp often seemed to run on gossip. “I’ll pull a task force together and see about getting up there unnoticed.”
Standing up, Liberty sighed in relief. “Thank you Alice, I appreciate it. I know what I said about not wanting to start a political fight,” she noted, “but if you need Longbow backup, just call. I’ll just have to put up with the political nonsense.” Her smile became somewhat lopsided. “It’s something of an ongoing job hazard, after all.”
Shaking the older womans hand, Alice couldn’t resist a playful smirk. “Megan, you’re an inspiration to those of us wanting to stay in the field with things we’re allowed to punch.”
As she’d hoped, it drew a laugh from the older woman, who made shooing gestures towards the door. “Yes yes, now off you go to do that punching. I have equipment requisition forms to authorize, and perhaps I’ll go wild and use a black pen.” Grinning as the catwoman left her office, she turned her attention to the pile of paperwork in the corner of her desk. “That could be me right now, but no, I had to go and be all ‘mature’ and ‘responsible’...”
***
"Well, they're definitely up to something," Mackie Stingray commented, studying one of the panels in the cockpit of the Quinjet as it flew towards Solomon Island, hidden under every stealth technology Riot Force had access to. "Civilian flights are being redirected around the region, officially due to bad weather conditions." She turned and looked at Purrfect Archer, smirking slightly. "It doesn't take your mothers software to confirm the weather programs are lying."
"They've been hacked?" Leon McNicol called across from where he was checking his rifle.
Mackie giggled, shaking her head. "No, it's just lying. The people that made it lie didn't need to hack it. They already had access."
"That fits with what Liberty was saying," Alice mused. "Keep an eye out. If Homeland Security's gone to this much trouble, they're certain to have brought in the Air Force to patrol the skies."
"Yeah, I'd rather not have to run from F-22's," the pilot replied with a slight wince. "Definitely flying careful."
Nodding, Alice patted her on the shoulder before turning towards the rear of the craft, finding Leon and the other two members of the team, Knight of the Peace and Street Sabre, performing checks on the two suits of power armour they'd brought along. "So, what're the odds we're looking at a clash with Homeland Security?" Leon asked. Given his dual status as a registered hero and an officer of the Paragon Police Department, it was hardly surprising that he asked the question, although he was far less concerned about it then Alice would have expected.
"Sylia's looking into it," Priss Stingray answered, unplugging a notepad computer from the hardsuit in front of her and putting the device away in a storage locker. "Until we know better, I figure we'll just have to watch our step, try not to punch the wrong people."
"I still can't help but laugh when you say something like that," Robin Barnes pointed out. The werecat was in her near human form, having decided to bring along her armour, just in case, and she was clearly enjoying the chance to torment her boyfriend with a demonstration of how her armours undersuit moulded to her currently furless body. She put her own extra equipment away in a locker, stretching to do so and drawing a slightly wide-eyed and approving look from Leon (And as usual, completely failing to notice similar expressions from the two heroines in the cabin). "Priss Stingray, suggesting the subtle approach."
The Sabre met the other woman's comment with an amused smirk. "What can I say. I've grown as an individual."
"I remember Mama Nenes stories," Alice mused. "About the days when your idea of subtle was to kick the door down as opposed to blowing up the wall."
Robin giggled, Leon didn't quite suppress a bark of laughter, and Priss shook her head in mock sadness. "I swear, I get no respect from you people," she commented.
"We respect you just fine. Now shut up and punch things," Alice replied, earning an amused snort from the Sabre.
Suppressing a giggle at the discussion, Mackie blinked and leaned forward in her chair. "Hey guys," she said after a moment, concern in her voice. "We're getting close to Solomon Island, and you might want to come take a look at this." Alice twitched an ear at the girls voice, turning back, then paused and tilted her head to the side. In the distance, from the ground to as high as she could see, was a massive cloud bank... No, that wasn't entirely the right term. It was too consistent, too flat. It was the finest example of Fog she'd ever seen. And to someone with the right senses, it was almost woven from magic. Old, inhuman magics.
“What the hell is that?” Leon muttered from behind her.
Mackie shrugged. “Reminds me of old Astoria, before things got even worse there,” she replied, glancing at a side display and tapping it a few times. “And it’s screwing with my systems something fierce. I can’t even locate the ground in there.”
“Take us over it,” Priss ordered, and something in her voice made Alice turn back to her in faint surprise. The other woman's face was slightly pale, with an element of what was the closest to fear Alice had seen on the Sabres face since the Battle of the Hive. The rest of her expression was the slightly distant look she gained when she was tapping into the instinctive knowledge granted to her by her Incarnation. “Anything that goes into that should never come out,” she whispered.
Studying her for a second, Mackie nodded slightly. “Right. Going up,” she said, pulling back on the stick. Frowning, she glanced at the altimeter, watching it climb. “If we have to get too high up, there is no way we’re coming back down unnoticed.”
Alice shrugged, her eyes still on the Fog. “If we have to get that high, we really have to get in there. And if we do get noticed…” Ears twitching, she considered that for a moment longer, then smiled to herself, turning to the team. “We might have to jump.”
“And that’s why I have a jetpack,” Leon pointed out, picking up his rifle as Priss and Robin walked towards their hardsuits. Both suits opened up as they approached, countless sections unfolding in an elaborate pattern, allowing both women to simply step inside and let the armor seal itself around them. “And Robin has flight systems,” the detective added, watching the hardsuits work their magic, as impressed as ever. “You two though…”
Smirking, Alice picked up her quiver and slung it over her shoulder. “I can get down,” she assured the man. “And I’m pretty sure in a fight between Street and the ground, the ground will chicken out first.” Feeling the Quinjet began to level out, she turned her attention forward, ignoring the Sabre cheerfully flipping her off.
Outside the Quinjet, the Fog simply stopped, leaving clear skies ahead of them. “Not as high as I was expecting, if they were going for containment,” Mackie commented. Glancing at the radar, she frowned slightly. “I’m seeing what looks like a pair of 22’s, twenty miles out. Not heading our way, so I’m guessing it’s a border patrol-” Her voice cut off and she made a surprised noise as they flew past the Fogs inner wall, revealing Solomon Island far below, as if in the eye of an unnaturally calm hurricane. “Well, that’s disturbing,” she muttered. “Taking us down.”
As the jets nose dipped, Alice considered the view. From this high up, to the naked eye, Solomon Island looked like any other island, patterns of green and brown around a moderately sized mountain. This high up, Kingsmouth was just a series of blurs and shapes, impossible to properly identify without a map.
Moving up on the other side of the pilots seat, Leon considered one of the side displays. “Looks like the lights are still on down there,” he commented after a minute. “Power’s getting in at least.” Bringing up a map, he considered it for a moment, comparing it to what power sources he could see. “Right, I’d say that fancy magic school might still have people, there’s the construction site for-” he blinked at the name on the map. “Golden Wigwam Casino, are you shitting me with that?” Shaking his head, he continued on. “Kingsmouth town looks like it’s got some life in it. I figure that’s our first stop.”
Looking at the map, Alice nodded in agreement. “Right. What about that bridge?” she asked, tapping at the very top of the image. “There’s some odd signals coming from there.”
“Military barricade, I’ll bet,” Leon replied. “Only land route off the island, after all. Won’t hurt to check it out later, but I really don’t think we should just try and land there.”
Behind them, Knight of the Peace raised an eyebrow. “If they’re as paranoid as Megan fears, you think they’ll shoot first and not bother with questions?”
Her lover looked back at her and shrugged. "That's if it's not the wrong kinda military to start with," he pointed out.
Sighing, she conceded the point. "We do seem to encounter that sort of thing a lot, don’t we?” Leaning past Leon, she tapped a label on the north-east edge of Kingsmouth. “Sheriff's office. Assuming that the local authorities are still active, if we land there-”
Before she could finish, the wail of alarms filled the jet, and Mackie cursed under her breath. “Well, something down there saw us,” she growled. “Trying to shake it, but landing doesn’t look like an option anymore.”
Glancing at the altimeter, Purrfect Archer turned and walked towards the rear hatch. “Drop the sheriff's office as a nav point for the suits,” she ordered as the other heroes followed behind her, the two armored women sealing their helmets. “We’ll fall the rest of the way.”
Entering a command on a side panel, Mackie had to yell to be heard over the sudden roar of wind as the hatch opened. “Be careful down there! Whatever burned through my stealth doesn’t look like any military system I’ve seen.”
“Well get out of here, and don’t blow up anyone you don’t have to!” Archer yelled back, before turning and taking a running leap off the ramp and into the evening sky. Despite the situation, she couldn’t keep a brief grin off her face at the familiar sensation of freefall, the sudden chill after the quinjets heated interior, and she couldn’t resist letting herself flip a few times before levelling out.
As she fell towards Solomon Island, the hero studied the view, watching as it became easier to make out the details. Not just comparing the town of Kingsmouth to the map she’d memorised, but more recent developments. Cars left abandoned and forgotten in the middle of the street, tiny flickers of unnatural blue flame along the shoreline to the south-west of town, shadows moving in the water and along the beach.
And around the Sheriff's office, there was a barricade, hastily built from whatever could be found. Chain-link fencing, razor wire, scaffolding, cars. A dozen figures could be seen manning those barricades, and it took only moments for all four heroes to recognise that the makeshift fortress was under attack by what looked like a rampaging horde, charging down two streets to try and bury the defenders under sheer numbers… and that the attackers were a familiar problem for any experienced superhero.
“Oh. Great. Zombies. This is just what I needed,” Street Sabre muttered over the teams comms. “This better not be the damn Pantheon again…”
Ignoring the Sabres grumbling, Archer unhooked her Vanguard bow from her hip, the weapon completing in a faint crackle of energy. After taking another heartbeat to assess the ground situation, and dodging a rather surprised raven in her way, she began issuing orders. “Street, take the southern force. Knight, you’re on the east wall. Leon, you and I are overwatch.” The other three acknowledged instantly, and both armoured woman took the lead, thrusters roaring to life.
Drawing several arrows from her quiver, she picked the running corpses that seemed like the most immediate problem below, and took aim.
***
Leveling her shotgun, Sheriff Helen Bannerman blew apart the zombies head, the creature falling back off the barricade. Connor Travers, a part of her mind noted. He'd worked at the airport before all this, both on the tours and as a flight instructor. Married, although he and Sarah had been going through a rough patch. She'd killed him three times now that she knew of, and Andy had mentioned him at least twice.
Turning, she down Robert Douglas before he could manage to climb over the fence, ignoring the sights and smells. Besides the part of her mind that was still insisting on identifying the undead townspeople, the bulk of her mind was on just how much ammunition she had left. Her count was coming up worryingly low. No matter what, she was going to be fighting hand to hand in this swarm.
"More coming from the east!" Andy called out suddenly, and Bannerman turned, seeing a wave of the undead charging down the Arkham Avenue. A hunting rifle cracked several times, and three of the monsters fell from head wounds, targets of John Morris's expert marksmanship, but even more were running still, and the sheriffs face tightened in a brief burst of fear. If there was still more coming after this, she wasn't sure if-
Snarling, Pauline Samsons rotting corpse vaulted over the barricade, launching itself at Bannerman and tackling her to the ground before she could respond. Gasping from the impact, she tried to shove the creature off, but it had the leverage, and she was forced to use her shotgun as a shield to hold it back enough to stop it from biting her face off. All she could do was try and hold it back and hope one of the others managed to get to her in time.
Without warning, a two foot long arrow suddenly punched through Paulines skull, the creature going limp. Gasping in surprise, the woman shoved it off of her and scrambled to her feet, looking around. More zombies were hanging over the edges of the barricades, many of them with similar arrows through their heads or torsos. Baffled, Bannerman stared at them for a moment. “Where the hell,” she began, before her attention was seized by the sound of gunshots coming from, as impossible as it seemed, the sky above them.
Looking up, she caught sight of a blue and red blur, flames stretching behind it like a missile, a moment before it crashed into a pack of zombies fifty feet down Elm Street, sending a shockwave of dust, gravel and mangled remains racing out in every direction. Another blur, this one black and gold, pulled out of a similar dive, revealing itself to be a feminine figure in winged power armor. As Bannerman watched, she flew down Arkham Avenue, bolts of white energy burning down the monsters below her.
As Helen watched, a third figure appeared, this one a man in simple jeans, shirt and a leather jacket. Jetpack roaring, he came to a halt almost fifty feet directly above the station, raised a large red rifle and began picking off targets the first two arrivals had missed. “Heroes,” the Sheriff whispered, before her voice rose into a delighted laugh. “Well I’ll be damned,” she yelled. “We’ve got superheroes in Kingsmouth!”
Another trio of arrows flew overhead, skewering several zombies that had managed to escape whatever had hit Elm Street. “Don’t celebrate just yet,” warned a womans voice from the roof of the Sheriff's office. “There’s still some on their feet! Take them down fast!” The order grabbed the attention of all the defenders, and they were returning to the barricades, weapons raised, long before any of them realized that they had no idea who had just taken charge.
It took less than thirty seconds for the last remaining zombie to fall, cut down by the woman in black and gold armor. For a moment, a silence settled across the area, before a number of the defenders began to laugh or cheer. The noise was unsteady, disbelieving, but after days of constant battles of slow attrition against the horde, the sudden shift in fortune was almost physically painful.
Forcing down her own cheer as she felt the hysteria trying to rise up, Bannerman watched as both flying heroes descended, landing in front of her patrol car. Something about the armored woman looked familiar, but right now, Helen was simply too tired to make the connection, and decided to just assume she’d seen her on television at some point. Down Elm Street, a second power armored woman, this suit a mix of dark blues and reds, emerged from the settling dust cloud, walking towards the barricade with confident ease.
“I’m seeing movement out in the forest,” called out the mystery woman on the roof, “but it doesn’t seem like any of it’s interested in coming this way.” Looking up, Helen blinked at the sight of what she could only describe as an Amazonian catwoman. Even more then the power armors, it was so out of place in Kingsmouth that the Sheriff had to stare for a moment.
Then her brain started working again, and as the catwoman jumped down from the roof, Helen realized she recognized her from news reports. With that, the identities of the other heroes began to emerge from the depths of her mind, and the woman fought the urge to collapse in relief. They weren’t just being saved by any random capes. They were being saved by legends.
Taking the lead, Helen stepped out of the crowd, approaching the taller woman. “I gotta say, you folks have some damn good timing,” she commented, holding out her hand. “I'm Sheriff Bannerman. And this down-home little state of emergency is what's left of my jurisdiction,” she added with a bitter smile.
Taking the hand, the catwoman shook it, her own smile almost as bitter. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner. Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to make sure word of your situation didn’t get out. Purrfect Archer, of the Paragon superhero group Riot Force,” she said, confirming Helen’s theory.
Glancing to the side, the hero gestured towards the blue armored woman as she jumped over the barricade. “Street Sabre, also of Riot Force.” Street gave the locals a casual wave, almost looking bored. “Knight of the Peace, from the Legendary,” Archer continued, nodding in the direction of the woman in black armor, who’d removed her helmet to reveal a rather pretty young woman that Helen guessed was in her early twenties. She smiled and bowed slightly. “And lastly, Detective Leon McNicols, of Paragon Special Investigations.”
“Sheriff,” McNicols said, shaking Helens hand. “How’re you holding out?”
Sighing, Helen ran a hand through her hair. “We tried to hold as much of the town as we could, at first. More out of nostalgia than any civil defense plan,” she admitted, looking out past the barricades and at the town beyond. “I won't tell you Kingsmouth was a slice of heaven in a snow globe... but it was ours. Now it ain't.” She took a breath, before turning back to the heroes.
“It’s a heck of a thing. Three years without firing a shot, other than putting down some animal got itself hit by a truck. These past nights we've gone through bullets like candy at Halloween. I used the jail cell to dry out old paperwork, mostly, or Bill Dexter when he'd had a bad one,” she chuckled, giving the man in question a weak smile to show she was teasing. For his part, Bill merely scowled, before turning his attention back towards the streets. “Now I've got all these good folks good as locked in here, and no sleeping it off for the morning either. The way things are headed, I'm seeing us outlasting our supplies. Not by much, if it comes to that,” she noted, voice and expression much more serious. “If you’ve got a way out of here, I think we’d all be darn grateful.”
Stepping past Helen, Purrfect Archer knelt down next to Pauline Samson, studying the body. “Right now, that’s not an option,” she admitted. “Like I said, someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to suppress this. Our ride in couldn’t stay, unless she wanted fighter jets dropping on top of her.” Snarls in the distance caught her attention, and she looked up to see five more zombies emerging from the mist and running up Elm Street towards the barricades. Several gunshots cut off the snarls, and Archer turned her attention back to the first corpse.
Climbing up onto the patrol car, Detective McNicol raised his rifle, looking down Elm Street. “So, if we can’t get people out,” he muttered, “we’ll just have to figure out what’s behind all this crap and deal with it.”
“Mysterious fog, zombie hordes,” Street Sabre grumbled, folding her arms over her chest. “I almost hope it’s some dumb asshole screwing around with old magics.”
Knight of the Peace rolled her eyes. “You just want someone you can punch,” she teased.
Smirking, the blue-armored woman shrugged, seemingly unaware that most of the locals were watching them in a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and amusement. “I like having a problem I can punch. Punching solves a lot of problems. Besides, I’d be fair about it. Drag him back here, let these guys do whatever they want to him,” she added, waving a hand towards the locals.
Laughter, bitter and tired, but genuine, rippled across the barricades, and Helen couldn’t keep a smile of her own off her face. She had to admit, the Knight Sabres suggestion was certainly appealing, and just the concept, being presented in such a cheerful fashion, seemed to lift the spirits of everyone listening in. The laughter was broken by snarls, as another four zombies charged up Elm Street. With the whine of servos and the sudden growl of rockets, Knight of the Peace took to the air, spun to face the creatures, and raised a hand.
A beam of pure white light connected her palm and one of the zombies for a moment, and then the animated corpse was gone, only a few chunks of smoking flesh left behind. She repeated the process several more times, then dropped back to the ground, wings folding up again. “Is it just me,” she commented, “or are those groups of zombies a little too consistent?”
Up on the roof of the Sheriff’s Office, Andy coughed lightly. “I don’t reckon it’s just you miss,” the deputy said politely. “I’ve been working as lookout, well, the best I can with all that fog still drifting ‘round. Those zombies aren’t coming from between the houses and such. They’re runnin’ up here all the way from the shore.”
Rubbing her hands together, Street Sabre walked towards the barricade. “Well, sounds to me like someone’s sending them this way. I think I’ll go and have a word with them. You guys wait here.”
Frowning, Helen gave the armored woman a skeptical look. “You sure about that?” she asked. “Back when we tried to hold the town, we... saw things out in the water. No one got a good look, least, no one that’s willing to talk about it, but they didn’t look right. Going out there might not be the best idea.”
Street waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, don’t worry about me. I’ve got experience at kicking the asses of the things that go bump in the night,” she assured her, before jumping over the barricade and setting off down the street at a light jog.
The Sheriff raised an eyebrow and glanced at Archer, who smiled wryly and shrugged. “She’s not kidding. For about three years now, she’s been one of the our teams experts on things like that.” She snickered slightly. “Not entirely willingly, and often through really bad luck, or someone with a grudge against her, but still, she knows what she’s doing.”
Laughing, McNicols pulled back the sleeve of his jacket, revealing an arm bracer with what looked like some sort of touchscreen built in. “I’m betting she ends up slimed,” he commented, tapping a command on the touchscreen, his jetpack vanishing into thin air as he did so.
“No bet,” Archer said with a smirk, before her expression turned serious. “Now then Sheriff… how exactly did all this start?”
Scowling, Helen turned to where someone had left a box of shotgun shells, grabbing a handful and starting to reload her weapon. “That fog out there,” she muttered. “Few days ago, maybe a week now, it swept on in from the ocean, covered nearly the whole darn island. Almost everyone it touched, we just… stopped.” She forced herself not to look up at the roof, where her deputy was watching the conversation. Might not be best to bring up his ‘immunity’ with outsiders just yet, even if they were heroes. “After a little while, it went on back out to sea. And most of us went with it.” Slinging the weapon over her shoulder, she turned back to the heroes, eyes filled with pain. “We’re the ‘lucky’ folk. We were all somewhere we couldn’t get out, not when our brains weren’t workin’.” Gesturing at Pauline's corpse, she added sadly, “they weren’t.”
Kneeling down next to the ravaged body, Archer studied it, her expression unreadable. “And then they came back.” As she said that, the zombie exploded into motion, lunging up at the catwoman. Helen shouted a warning, going for her shotgun, McNicols brought his own rifle up, but Archer simply raised a hand, eyes glowing purple, and the creature froze in place. “And they don’t stay still,” she added, her tone thoughtful. “No traces of life. This body is completely dead. Not a possession or some kind of mind control. This woman’s soul has gone on to whatever lies next for her. Thank God for small mercies,” she muttered.
“...Does, does that happen often?” Andy asked nervously.
“Not as often as you’d fear, but more often than you’d like,” Knight replied. “So, if they are just corpses, what’s animating them?”
Climbing to her feet, Archer gestured, and the zombie floated up to hover in front of her. “It’s magic of some sort,” she confirmed. “I don’t recognize it though. Not Pantheon, certainly not Thorns…” Her ears twitched thoughtfully. “Looks like physical damage weakens the magic, but it regenerates in time.”
“Shooting them does at least give us time to think,” Sandy ‘Moose’ Jansen commented. The biker rubbed at his goatee thoughtfully. “Although, even in pieces, I’ve noticed these things keep on twitching.”
“You know, the last time we were able to send anyone out for supplies, old Norma Creed was sitting on her porch with a bonfire in her yard,” Helen mused. “Ain’t nothin’ crawling out of that blaze to mess with her again. Mind you,” she added with a wry smile, “that might have somethin’ to do with the twelve-gauge she keeps next to her chair.”
Archer laughed lightly, but never looked away from the zombie, her expression bleak. “Well, if nothing else, it gives me an idea of what to do here. Miss, if you’re listening wherever you are, I apologise if you don’t like cremations,” she said quietly. Before the Sheriff could ask the heroine what she meant by that, flickers of flame began appearing around the catwomans body. Backing up, the locals watched as the flames grew in intensity, before gathering in the palm of her hand. She twitched her hand, and the fire burst outwards, completely covering Paulines body and hiding it from view. The zombies snarls stopped instantly, and in seconds, the flames went from human shaped, to a large sphere, to fading flickers of light and smoke. Of the body of Pauline Samson, only ash remained.
“Woah…” Andy managed.
“Easy there Alice,” Knight said gently. “I can much get the same result with my armor, remember?”
Panting slightly, the catwoman ran a hand down her face. “I know,” she admitted. “I just really hate zombies.”
Raising an eyebrow, Helen considered the briefly exhausted heroine. “I hope you’re not going to need to do that for everything running around out there,” she said dryly. “That might be just a little bit time consuming.” Laughter, weak but genuine, ran around the barricade for a moment, before it was broken by a loud, inhuman roar echoing down Elm Street. “Okay, the hell was that?”
“That,” Detective McNicols said with a grim smile, “was Street Sabre getting to properly punch someone.”
***
June 16, 2015
“Solomon Island, up in Maine. Ever heard of it?”
Leaning back in her chair, Purrfect Archer considered her coffee for a moment. “I’ve heard some stories about it. The kind the older Midnighters tell to scare the newer generation. Native magics dating back almost as long as Orenbaga. It drew the attention of one of the Illuminati groups after the Templars chased them out of Europe, and they founded the town of Kingsmouth. Black magic, group sacrifices, witch hunts, everything you’d expect out of them. Although supposedly the Innsmouth Academy’s become a quality school for magic in recent generations. I’m guessing something’s happened there?” she added with a faint frown.
“We believe so, but we can’t confirm it,” Ms. Liberty replied, her own frown much deeper. “All contact with the island has been lost, I’ve gotten unconfirmed reports of military deployments, and the Department of Homeland Security seems to have issued a media blackout. And as a final, wonderful touch,” she added, frown deepening into a scowl, “I’ve heard that the Orochi Group has sent a team from Advanced Sciences and at least a few platoons of of their Corporate Security Division into the area.”
Alice W’Tin couldn’t quite suppress a scowl at the last comment. She’d had little experience with the Japanese Megacorp, Crey having put a lot of effort into keeping their rivals out of Paragon over the years. But there were still rumors, and they’d brought a few too many of Creys more questionable components during that Megacorps collapse for any hero to truly trust them. If something on Solomon Island had their attention, there could be a very big problem. “So, if there is a crisis there, why call me?” she asked. “Why not just send in Longbow?” Even as she asked the question however, her eyes narrowed in understanding. “Politics,” she muttered.
“I received a call from Homeland Security this morning,” Liberty confirmed. “They were very insistent that, for the time being, the Freedom Corps focus their attention on the Isles, and that any action on American soil outside Paragon would not be encouraged. And, just in case I decided to ignore that advice, they just ‘happened’ to mention that they would be reviewing the Scirocco case at the end of the week.”
That comment earned a scowl from the catgirl. Sciroccos defection from Arachnos was a constant political nightmare for everyone involved. A lot of people felt that, regardless of his good intentions, his past actions with Arachnos were simply too much to allow a parole system like the one offered to the New Praetorians. Alice wasn’t sure where she stood on the issue, but the fact that Homeland Security was so willing to play that card to try and ground Longbow... “Charming. Someone in Washington isn’t a big believer in subtlety today,” she muttered.
“Indeed. I’ve got too many issues they could disrupt to risk starting a fight with them now,” Liberty admitted. “But if there is trouble on Solomon Island, I want someone on the scene whose skills and judgement I can trust, and who has the resources to get there quickly.” She smiled slightly. “I understand that Riot Force has recently acquired the hardware and equipment to do that?”
“You understand correctly.” Alice replied, finishing her coffee and placing the cup back on its saucer. It didn’t surprise her that Longbow knew about the advanced transports they’d managed to acquire from their other-dimensional allies. Portal Corp often seemed to run on gossip. “I’ll pull a task force together and see about getting up there unnoticed.”
Standing up, Liberty sighed in relief. “Thank you Alice, I appreciate it. I know what I said about not wanting to start a political fight,” she noted, “but if you need Longbow backup, just call. I’ll just have to put up with the political nonsense.” Her smile became somewhat lopsided. “It’s something of an ongoing job hazard, after all.”
Shaking the older womans hand, Alice couldn’t resist a playful smirk. “Megan, you’re an inspiration to those of us wanting to stay in the field with things we’re allowed to punch.”
As she’d hoped, it drew a laugh from the older woman, who made shooing gestures towards the door. “Yes yes, now off you go to do that punching. I have equipment requisition forms to authorize, and perhaps I’ll go wild and use a black pen.” Grinning as the catwoman left her office, she turned her attention to the pile of paperwork in the corner of her desk. “That could be me right now, but no, I had to go and be all ‘mature’ and ‘responsible’...”
***
"Well, they're definitely up to something," Mackie Stingray commented, studying one of the panels in the cockpit of the Quinjet as it flew towards Solomon Island, hidden under every stealth technology Riot Force had access to. "Civilian flights are being redirected around the region, officially due to bad weather conditions." She turned and looked at Purrfect Archer, smirking slightly. "It doesn't take your mothers software to confirm the weather programs are lying."
"They've been hacked?" Leon McNicol called across from where he was checking his rifle.
Mackie giggled, shaking her head. "No, it's just lying. The people that made it lie didn't need to hack it. They already had access."
"That fits with what Liberty was saying," Alice mused. "Keep an eye out. If Homeland Security's gone to this much trouble, they're certain to have brought in the Air Force to patrol the skies."
"Yeah, I'd rather not have to run from F-22's," the pilot replied with a slight wince. "Definitely flying careful."
Nodding, Alice patted her on the shoulder before turning towards the rear of the craft, finding Leon and the other two members of the team, Knight of the Peace and Street Sabre, performing checks on the two suits of power armour they'd brought along. "So, what're the odds we're looking at a clash with Homeland Security?" Leon asked. Given his dual status as a registered hero and an officer of the Paragon Police Department, it was hardly surprising that he asked the question, although he was far less concerned about it then Alice would have expected.
"Sylia's looking into it," Priss Stingray answered, unplugging a notepad computer from the hardsuit in front of her and putting the device away in a storage locker. "Until we know better, I figure we'll just have to watch our step, try not to punch the wrong people."
"I still can't help but laugh when you say something like that," Robin Barnes pointed out. The werecat was in her near human form, having decided to bring along her armour, just in case, and she was clearly enjoying the chance to torment her boyfriend with a demonstration of how her armours undersuit moulded to her currently furless body. She put her own extra equipment away in a locker, stretching to do so and drawing a slightly wide-eyed and approving look from Leon (And as usual, completely failing to notice similar expressions from the two heroines in the cabin). "Priss Stingray, suggesting the subtle approach."
The Sabre met the other woman's comment with an amused smirk. "What can I say. I've grown as an individual."
"I remember Mama Nenes stories," Alice mused. "About the days when your idea of subtle was to kick the door down as opposed to blowing up the wall."
Robin giggled, Leon didn't quite suppress a bark of laughter, and Priss shook her head in mock sadness. "I swear, I get no respect from you people," she commented.
"We respect you just fine. Now shut up and punch things," Alice replied, earning an amused snort from the Sabre.
Suppressing a giggle at the discussion, Mackie blinked and leaned forward in her chair. "Hey guys," she said after a moment, concern in her voice. "We're getting close to Solomon Island, and you might want to come take a look at this." Alice twitched an ear at the girls voice, turning back, then paused and tilted her head to the side. In the distance, from the ground to as high as she could see, was a massive cloud bank... No, that wasn't entirely the right term. It was too consistent, too flat. It was the finest example of Fog she'd ever seen. And to someone with the right senses, it was almost woven from magic. Old, inhuman magics.
“What the hell is that?” Leon muttered from behind her.
Mackie shrugged. “Reminds me of old Astoria, before things got even worse there,” she replied, glancing at a side display and tapping it a few times. “And it’s screwing with my systems something fierce. I can’t even locate the ground in there.”
“Take us over it,” Priss ordered, and something in her voice made Alice turn back to her in faint surprise. The other woman's face was slightly pale, with an element of what was the closest to fear Alice had seen on the Sabres face since the Battle of the Hive. The rest of her expression was the slightly distant look she gained when she was tapping into the instinctive knowledge granted to her by her Incarnation. “Anything that goes into that should never come out,” she whispered.
Studying her for a second, Mackie nodded slightly. “Right. Going up,” she said, pulling back on the stick. Frowning, she glanced at the altimeter, watching it climb. “If we have to get too high up, there is no way we’re coming back down unnoticed.”
Alice shrugged, her eyes still on the Fog. “If we have to get that high, we really have to get in there. And if we do get noticed…” Ears twitching, she considered that for a moment longer, then smiled to herself, turning to the team. “We might have to jump.”
“And that’s why I have a jetpack,” Leon pointed out, picking up his rifle as Priss and Robin walked towards their hardsuits. Both suits opened up as they approached, countless sections unfolding in an elaborate pattern, allowing both women to simply step inside and let the armor seal itself around them. “And Robin has flight systems,” the detective added, watching the hardsuits work their magic, as impressed as ever. “You two though…”
Smirking, Alice picked up her quiver and slung it over her shoulder. “I can get down,” she assured the man. “And I’m pretty sure in a fight between Street and the ground, the ground will chicken out first.” Feeling the Quinjet began to level out, she turned her attention forward, ignoring the Sabre cheerfully flipping her off.
Outside the Quinjet, the Fog simply stopped, leaving clear skies ahead of them. “Not as high as I was expecting, if they were going for containment,” Mackie commented. Glancing at the radar, she frowned slightly. “I’m seeing what looks like a pair of 22’s, twenty miles out. Not heading our way, so I’m guessing it’s a border patrol-” Her voice cut off and she made a surprised noise as they flew past the Fogs inner wall, revealing Solomon Island far below, as if in the eye of an unnaturally calm hurricane. “Well, that’s disturbing,” she muttered. “Taking us down.”
As the jets nose dipped, Alice considered the view. From this high up, to the naked eye, Solomon Island looked like any other island, patterns of green and brown around a moderately sized mountain. This high up, Kingsmouth was just a series of blurs and shapes, impossible to properly identify without a map.
Moving up on the other side of the pilots seat, Leon considered one of the side displays. “Looks like the lights are still on down there,” he commented after a minute. “Power’s getting in at least.” Bringing up a map, he considered it for a moment, comparing it to what power sources he could see. “Right, I’d say that fancy magic school might still have people, there’s the construction site for-” he blinked at the name on the map. “Golden Wigwam Casino, are you shitting me with that?” Shaking his head, he continued on. “Kingsmouth town looks like it’s got some life in it. I figure that’s our first stop.”
Looking at the map, Alice nodded in agreement. “Right. What about that bridge?” she asked, tapping at the very top of the image. “There’s some odd signals coming from there.”
“Military barricade, I’ll bet,” Leon replied. “Only land route off the island, after all. Won’t hurt to check it out later, but I really don’t think we should just try and land there.”
Behind them, Knight of the Peace raised an eyebrow. “If they’re as paranoid as Megan fears, you think they’ll shoot first and not bother with questions?”
Her lover looked back at her and shrugged. "That's if it's not the wrong kinda military to start with," he pointed out.
Sighing, she conceded the point. "We do seem to encounter that sort of thing a lot, don’t we?” Leaning past Leon, she tapped a label on the north-east edge of Kingsmouth. “Sheriff's office. Assuming that the local authorities are still active, if we land there-”
Before she could finish, the wail of alarms filled the jet, and Mackie cursed under her breath. “Well, something down there saw us,” she growled. “Trying to shake it, but landing doesn’t look like an option anymore.”
Glancing at the altimeter, Purrfect Archer turned and walked towards the rear hatch. “Drop the sheriff's office as a nav point for the suits,” she ordered as the other heroes followed behind her, the two armored women sealing their helmets. “We’ll fall the rest of the way.”
Entering a command on a side panel, Mackie had to yell to be heard over the sudden roar of wind as the hatch opened. “Be careful down there! Whatever burned through my stealth doesn’t look like any military system I’ve seen.”
“Well get out of here, and don’t blow up anyone you don’t have to!” Archer yelled back, before turning and taking a running leap off the ramp and into the evening sky. Despite the situation, she couldn’t keep a brief grin off her face at the familiar sensation of freefall, the sudden chill after the quinjets heated interior, and she couldn’t resist letting herself flip a few times before levelling out.
As she fell towards Solomon Island, the hero studied the view, watching as it became easier to make out the details. Not just comparing the town of Kingsmouth to the map she’d memorised, but more recent developments. Cars left abandoned and forgotten in the middle of the street, tiny flickers of unnatural blue flame along the shoreline to the south-west of town, shadows moving in the water and along the beach.
And around the Sheriff's office, there was a barricade, hastily built from whatever could be found. Chain-link fencing, razor wire, scaffolding, cars. A dozen figures could be seen manning those barricades, and it took only moments for all four heroes to recognise that the makeshift fortress was under attack by what looked like a rampaging horde, charging down two streets to try and bury the defenders under sheer numbers… and that the attackers were a familiar problem for any experienced superhero.
“Oh. Great. Zombies. This is just what I needed,” Street Sabre muttered over the teams comms. “This better not be the damn Pantheon again…”
Ignoring the Sabres grumbling, Archer unhooked her Vanguard bow from her hip, the weapon completing in a faint crackle of energy. After taking another heartbeat to assess the ground situation, and dodging a rather surprised raven in her way, she began issuing orders. “Street, take the southern force. Knight, you’re on the east wall. Leon, you and I are overwatch.” The other three acknowledged instantly, and both armoured woman took the lead, thrusters roaring to life.
Drawing several arrows from her quiver, she picked the running corpses that seemed like the most immediate problem below, and took aim.
***
Leveling her shotgun, Sheriff Helen Bannerman blew apart the zombies head, the creature falling back off the barricade. Connor Travers, a part of her mind noted. He'd worked at the airport before all this, both on the tours and as a flight instructor. Married, although he and Sarah had been going through a rough patch. She'd killed him three times now that she knew of, and Andy had mentioned him at least twice.
Turning, she down Robert Douglas before he could manage to climb over the fence, ignoring the sights and smells. Besides the part of her mind that was still insisting on identifying the undead townspeople, the bulk of her mind was on just how much ammunition she had left. Her count was coming up worryingly low. No matter what, she was going to be fighting hand to hand in this swarm.
"More coming from the east!" Andy called out suddenly, and Bannerman turned, seeing a wave of the undead charging down the Arkham Avenue. A hunting rifle cracked several times, and three of the monsters fell from head wounds, targets of John Morris's expert marksmanship, but even more were running still, and the sheriffs face tightened in a brief burst of fear. If there was still more coming after this, she wasn't sure if-
Snarling, Pauline Samsons rotting corpse vaulted over the barricade, launching itself at Bannerman and tackling her to the ground before she could respond. Gasping from the impact, she tried to shove the creature off, but it had the leverage, and she was forced to use her shotgun as a shield to hold it back enough to stop it from biting her face off. All she could do was try and hold it back and hope one of the others managed to get to her in time.
Without warning, a two foot long arrow suddenly punched through Paulines skull, the creature going limp. Gasping in surprise, the woman shoved it off of her and scrambled to her feet, looking around. More zombies were hanging over the edges of the barricades, many of them with similar arrows through their heads or torsos. Baffled, Bannerman stared at them for a moment. “Where the hell,” she began, before her attention was seized by the sound of gunshots coming from, as impossible as it seemed, the sky above them.
Looking up, she caught sight of a blue and red blur, flames stretching behind it like a missile, a moment before it crashed into a pack of zombies fifty feet down Elm Street, sending a shockwave of dust, gravel and mangled remains racing out in every direction. Another blur, this one black and gold, pulled out of a similar dive, revealing itself to be a feminine figure in winged power armor. As Bannerman watched, she flew down Arkham Avenue, bolts of white energy burning down the monsters below her.
As Helen watched, a third figure appeared, this one a man in simple jeans, shirt and a leather jacket. Jetpack roaring, he came to a halt almost fifty feet directly above the station, raised a large red rifle and began picking off targets the first two arrivals had missed. “Heroes,” the Sheriff whispered, before her voice rose into a delighted laugh. “Well I’ll be damned,” she yelled. “We’ve got superheroes in Kingsmouth!”
Another trio of arrows flew overhead, skewering several zombies that had managed to escape whatever had hit Elm Street. “Don’t celebrate just yet,” warned a womans voice from the roof of the Sheriff's office. “There’s still some on their feet! Take them down fast!” The order grabbed the attention of all the defenders, and they were returning to the barricades, weapons raised, long before any of them realized that they had no idea who had just taken charge.
It took less than thirty seconds for the last remaining zombie to fall, cut down by the woman in black and gold armor. For a moment, a silence settled across the area, before a number of the defenders began to laugh or cheer. The noise was unsteady, disbelieving, but after days of constant battles of slow attrition against the horde, the sudden shift in fortune was almost physically painful.
Forcing down her own cheer as she felt the hysteria trying to rise up, Bannerman watched as both flying heroes descended, landing in front of her patrol car. Something about the armored woman looked familiar, but right now, Helen was simply too tired to make the connection, and decided to just assume she’d seen her on television at some point. Down Elm Street, a second power armored woman, this suit a mix of dark blues and reds, emerged from the settling dust cloud, walking towards the barricade with confident ease.
“I’m seeing movement out in the forest,” called out the mystery woman on the roof, “but it doesn’t seem like any of it’s interested in coming this way.” Looking up, Helen blinked at the sight of what she could only describe as an Amazonian catwoman. Even more then the power armors, it was so out of place in Kingsmouth that the Sheriff had to stare for a moment.
Then her brain started working again, and as the catwoman jumped down from the roof, Helen realized she recognized her from news reports. With that, the identities of the other heroes began to emerge from the depths of her mind, and the woman fought the urge to collapse in relief. They weren’t just being saved by any random capes. They were being saved by legends.
Taking the lead, Helen stepped out of the crowd, approaching the taller woman. “I gotta say, you folks have some damn good timing,” she commented, holding out her hand. “I'm Sheriff Bannerman. And this down-home little state of emergency is what's left of my jurisdiction,” she added with a bitter smile.
Taking the hand, the catwoman shook it, her own smile almost as bitter. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner. Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to make sure word of your situation didn’t get out. Purrfect Archer, of the Paragon superhero group Riot Force,” she said, confirming Helen’s theory.
Glancing to the side, the hero gestured towards the blue armored woman as she jumped over the barricade. “Street Sabre, also of Riot Force.” Street gave the locals a casual wave, almost looking bored. “Knight of the Peace, from the Legendary,” Archer continued, nodding in the direction of the woman in black armor, who’d removed her helmet to reveal a rather pretty young woman that Helen guessed was in her early twenties. She smiled and bowed slightly. “And lastly, Detective Leon McNicols, of Paragon Special Investigations.”
“Sheriff,” McNicols said, shaking Helens hand. “How’re you holding out?”
Sighing, Helen ran a hand through her hair. “We tried to hold as much of the town as we could, at first. More out of nostalgia than any civil defense plan,” she admitted, looking out past the barricades and at the town beyond. “I won't tell you Kingsmouth was a slice of heaven in a snow globe... but it was ours. Now it ain't.” She took a breath, before turning back to the heroes.
“It’s a heck of a thing. Three years without firing a shot, other than putting down some animal got itself hit by a truck. These past nights we've gone through bullets like candy at Halloween. I used the jail cell to dry out old paperwork, mostly, or Bill Dexter when he'd had a bad one,” she chuckled, giving the man in question a weak smile to show she was teasing. For his part, Bill merely scowled, before turning his attention back towards the streets. “Now I've got all these good folks good as locked in here, and no sleeping it off for the morning either. The way things are headed, I'm seeing us outlasting our supplies. Not by much, if it comes to that,” she noted, voice and expression much more serious. “If you’ve got a way out of here, I think we’d all be darn grateful.”
Stepping past Helen, Purrfect Archer knelt down next to Pauline Samson, studying the body. “Right now, that’s not an option,” she admitted. “Like I said, someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to suppress this. Our ride in couldn’t stay, unless she wanted fighter jets dropping on top of her.” Snarls in the distance caught her attention, and she looked up to see five more zombies emerging from the mist and running up Elm Street towards the barricades. Several gunshots cut off the snarls, and Archer turned her attention back to the first corpse.
Climbing up onto the patrol car, Detective McNicol raised his rifle, looking down Elm Street. “So, if we can’t get people out,” he muttered, “we’ll just have to figure out what’s behind all this crap and deal with it.”
“Mysterious fog, zombie hordes,” Street Sabre grumbled, folding her arms over her chest. “I almost hope it’s some dumb asshole screwing around with old magics.”
Knight of the Peace rolled her eyes. “You just want someone you can punch,” she teased.
Smirking, the blue-armored woman shrugged, seemingly unaware that most of the locals were watching them in a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and amusement. “I like having a problem I can punch. Punching solves a lot of problems. Besides, I’d be fair about it. Drag him back here, let these guys do whatever they want to him,” she added, waving a hand towards the locals.
Laughter, bitter and tired, but genuine, rippled across the barricades, and Helen couldn’t keep a smile of her own off her face. She had to admit, the Knight Sabres suggestion was certainly appealing, and just the concept, being presented in such a cheerful fashion, seemed to lift the spirits of everyone listening in. The laughter was broken by snarls, as another four zombies charged up Elm Street. With the whine of servos and the sudden growl of rockets, Knight of the Peace took to the air, spun to face the creatures, and raised a hand.
A beam of pure white light connected her palm and one of the zombies for a moment, and then the animated corpse was gone, only a few chunks of smoking flesh left behind. She repeated the process several more times, then dropped back to the ground, wings folding up again. “Is it just me,” she commented, “or are those groups of zombies a little too consistent?”
Up on the roof of the Sheriff’s Office, Andy coughed lightly. “I don’t reckon it’s just you miss,” the deputy said politely. “I’ve been working as lookout, well, the best I can with all that fog still drifting ‘round. Those zombies aren’t coming from between the houses and such. They’re runnin’ up here all the way from the shore.”
Rubbing her hands together, Street Sabre walked towards the barricade. “Well, sounds to me like someone’s sending them this way. I think I’ll go and have a word with them. You guys wait here.”
Frowning, Helen gave the armored woman a skeptical look. “You sure about that?” she asked. “Back when we tried to hold the town, we... saw things out in the water. No one got a good look, least, no one that’s willing to talk about it, but they didn’t look right. Going out there might not be the best idea.”
Street waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, don’t worry about me. I’ve got experience at kicking the asses of the things that go bump in the night,” she assured her, before jumping over the barricade and setting off down the street at a light jog.
The Sheriff raised an eyebrow and glanced at Archer, who smiled wryly and shrugged. “She’s not kidding. For about three years now, she’s been one of the our teams experts on things like that.” She snickered slightly. “Not entirely willingly, and often through really bad luck, or someone with a grudge against her, but still, she knows what she’s doing.”
Laughing, McNicols pulled back the sleeve of his jacket, revealing an arm bracer with what looked like some sort of touchscreen built in. “I’m betting she ends up slimed,” he commented, tapping a command on the touchscreen, his jetpack vanishing into thin air as he did so.
“No bet,” Archer said with a smirk, before her expression turned serious. “Now then Sheriff… how exactly did all this start?”
Scowling, Helen turned to where someone had left a box of shotgun shells, grabbing a handful and starting to reload her weapon. “That fog out there,” she muttered. “Few days ago, maybe a week now, it swept on in from the ocean, covered nearly the whole darn island. Almost everyone it touched, we just… stopped.” She forced herself not to look up at the roof, where her deputy was watching the conversation. Might not be best to bring up his ‘immunity’ with outsiders just yet, even if they were heroes. “After a little while, it went on back out to sea. And most of us went with it.” Slinging the weapon over her shoulder, she turned back to the heroes, eyes filled with pain. “We’re the ‘lucky’ folk. We were all somewhere we couldn’t get out, not when our brains weren’t workin’.” Gesturing at Pauline's corpse, she added sadly, “they weren’t.”
Kneeling down next to the ravaged body, Archer studied it, her expression unreadable. “And then they came back.” As she said that, the zombie exploded into motion, lunging up at the catwoman. Helen shouted a warning, going for her shotgun, McNicols brought his own rifle up, but Archer simply raised a hand, eyes glowing purple, and the creature froze in place. “And they don’t stay still,” she added, her tone thoughtful. “No traces of life. This body is completely dead. Not a possession or some kind of mind control. This woman’s soul has gone on to whatever lies next for her. Thank God for small mercies,” she muttered.
“...Does, does that happen often?” Andy asked nervously.
“Not as often as you’d fear, but more often than you’d like,” Knight replied. “So, if they are just corpses, what’s animating them?”
Climbing to her feet, Archer gestured, and the zombie floated up to hover in front of her. “It’s magic of some sort,” she confirmed. “I don’t recognize it though. Not Pantheon, certainly not Thorns…” Her ears twitched thoughtfully. “Looks like physical damage weakens the magic, but it regenerates in time.”
“Shooting them does at least give us time to think,” Sandy ‘Moose’ Jansen commented. The biker rubbed at his goatee thoughtfully. “Although, even in pieces, I’ve noticed these things keep on twitching.”
“You know, the last time we were able to send anyone out for supplies, old Norma Creed was sitting on her porch with a bonfire in her yard,” Helen mused. “Ain’t nothin’ crawling out of that blaze to mess with her again. Mind you,” she added with a wry smile, “that might have somethin’ to do with the twelve-gauge she keeps next to her chair.”
Archer laughed lightly, but never looked away from the zombie, her expression bleak. “Well, if nothing else, it gives me an idea of what to do here. Miss, if you’re listening wherever you are, I apologise if you don’t like cremations,” she said quietly. Before the Sheriff could ask the heroine what she meant by that, flickers of flame began appearing around the catwomans body. Backing up, the locals watched as the flames grew in intensity, before gathering in the palm of her hand. She twitched her hand, and the fire burst outwards, completely covering Paulines body and hiding it from view. The zombies snarls stopped instantly, and in seconds, the flames went from human shaped, to a large sphere, to fading flickers of light and smoke. Of the body of Pauline Samson, only ash remained.
“Woah…” Andy managed.
“Easy there Alice,” Knight said gently. “I can much get the same result with my armor, remember?”
Panting slightly, the catwoman ran a hand down her face. “I know,” she admitted. “I just really hate zombies.”
Raising an eyebrow, Helen considered the briefly exhausted heroine. “I hope you’re not going to need to do that for everything running around out there,” she said dryly. “That might be just a little bit time consuming.” Laughter, weak but genuine, ran around the barricade for a moment, before it was broken by a loud, inhuman roar echoing down Elm Street. “Okay, the hell was that?”
“That,” Detective McNicols said with a grim smile, “was Street Sabre getting to properly punch someone.”
***