Of Heists and Supermen
Incomplete chapter...
“Meteor Labs is frozen?”
This was getting ridiculous. Cherry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry – energy zipped around her body, little orange speed-sparks dancing up and down her skin, and the palpable thrum of Omega waves resonated with her frustration.
“Yup, Dry Ice strikes again,” Prophet answered from across the conference table, munching on a burrito – the largest she’d ever seen. He swallowed before continuing, “He broke in just about an hour ago. M.P.D. tried catching him, but he got away – he froze about fifteen cops and most of the guards we stationed there, but they’re being treated now, so it should be fine.”
Cherry groaned, (editing this section)
“And the entire west wing has been covered in ice,” he continued, eyeing the rapidly-charring wood, “it’s so thick it’ll take them days to get through, even with the best equipment.”
“That is strange,” Cherry replied, slowly, as Prophet shook his head in agreement. “Even though Gibson’s mole gave us that tip about an attack, I never expected him to break into Meteor Labs so openly in the day – and to leave so much evidence. ”
“I’m assuming he bypassed our setup?” she asked, lingering on the question.
“Not just bypassed,” said Prophet, “he broke through them completely.”
Prophet was usually the perfect portrait of nonchalance, reclining on his wheelchair at the other end of the round table, but now she could see a hidden tinge of worry trying to fight its way through his eyes – magnified as they were behind his glasses.
“I’ve got no idea how he did it,” he muttered, “I would’ve thought they’d stop him after all the defences we’d set up – “
He broke off, mid-bite, to wipe the bits of sauce running down his chin.
“You know, the– “, he swallowed, “monitoring systems that Bill installed last year, the ones with the laser trackers, and those big phaser guns…” He pointed a finger – in poor imitation of the guns – making blaster noises through his mouthful of food. Drops of half-chewed burrito and spittle flew out of his mouth, splattering on the lacquered wood of the table as he blathered on. He swallowed again before speaking, “…and the rune walls that Judgement put up. They’re supposed to be impenetrable, inside and out.”
“Well, I don’t think they were as impenetrable as you thought they were,” she replied, scathingly.
Prophet sighed, muffled through his burrito, and turned to the window behind him – three thick but fully transparent layers of plexiglass spanning floor to ceiling, so wide that nearly the entire wall seemed to be constructed of glass.
“Look on the bright side, Cherry. Thanks to Gibson’s tip, we got the eggheads to move all their research across the country to that complex in Downtown City before this happened – so no more crazy Frost Goons trying to use particle accelerator beams to rob banks, or hold the mayor hostage, or even,” and he chuckled at this, “for experimental ice cream cannons.”
He gazed out the window.
“I really have no idea why Dry Ice has been doing all this stuff lately. It was obvious when he did it at Wayfair, but now there’s absolutely no reason to break into Meteor Labs. It’s empty! Unless there was something we missed, or he was trying to create some kind of diversion – and it wouldn’t be a bad day for a diversion – but for what?”
Cherry could understand his logic, and part of her silently agreed with him. The open waters of Megalopolis Bay sparkled golden-white in the early morning, where they usually were a lousy grey, across from their headquarters in a magically-shrouded island tower near its mouth. So flat was the ground that shimmering skyscrapers seemed to rise from the waters, and so clear was the sky that she could pick out the distant mountains in the blue horizon, half-shrouded in cloud. It was a lovely day to go out, and an even lovelier day for a brazen heist to lure an unwitting superhero. She could even make out the faint lights of cop cars in the heart of the city, where the now-frozen Meteor Labs would be.
Stupid, idiot police. How could they be so slow to inform them? Nearly an hour’s delay! The team had spread far and wide, in their desperate bid to track Bazowski and his crew across the globe, leaving her the only member remaining in Headquarters to handle the situation.
Prophet turned back to her again, and the tiniest inkling of sympathy wound onto his eyes – but such empathetic effect was greatly spoiled by the mess of burrito on his face.
He chewed as he spoke.
“Don’t need to worry about it, Cherry. Empty lab, good visuals, no bad guys around, and ”
(editing this section)
He shrugged.
“What could go wrong?”
She stomped her fist on the table, crackling with yellow sparks and startling him. “Prophet, even with all our help, if the eggheads and M.P.D. can’t protect Meteor Labs’ research – dangerous research – then it’s only a matter of time before it falls into his hands, or even worse!” she pleaded, “Don’t act like this is the last time it’ll happen. You know we can’t hide their research in Downtown City forever.”
She looked at him sharply, tiny bolts fizzing near her ears.
“What if Dry Ice finds out about the complex there? What if he steals some valuable thing again, and uses it on the people who live there? Or better yet, what if he sells it to Bazowski, and they make a weapon out of it? What then?”
Her face had turned red, and her breaths heavy. The energy of her Sparks, fuelled by (or the fuel for?) her agitation, blanketed the room, and the hairs prickled on the back of Prophet’s neck. The words threw him into a contemplative silence, and it was not until she had composed herself that he put down his burrito and finally spoke again.
“Alright,” he acquiesced. He always felt uncomfortable whenever Cherry got riled up, looking as if she were ready to strike him down in an instant. “I’ll talk to Bill about it, seeing as how his company was responsible for most of the more ‘physical’ defences. And maybe Judgement too, whenever he’s back from whatever spiritual journey he’s on now.”
Prophet looked down, fiddled with his thumbs.
“But you’ll have to have to handle first-response yourself, since everyone else has gone,” he said as Cherry sighed, “
(editing this section)
“And one more thing,” he added nervously, “Gibson’s on-site and he’s been meaning to speak to you.”
Sparks burst to life around her – crackling over her skin in tiny orange-yellow bolts, up her dark hair until it stood up, frizzy, in all directions, wild and electric. A stray bolt flew out across the room, sailing over the table in a blinding rush of orange and brushing the top of his head before it sizzled on the window.
(editing this section)
Prophet whimpered.
Work in progress - to be continued...
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