Chapter 39
They had laughed and they had mocked him for the idea of adding a utility belt to their equipment stockpile. Sandy had taken to continuously referring to him being ‘Batman’ in gravelly tones. Could she move her feet off the coffee table was responded to with, ‘make me, you’re Batman’. That had lasted three months.
Then when they realised they had nowhere to keep their valuables (hello van and car keys) in their BioSuits, they soon relented and allowed the installation of the utility belts. Recently a very new piece of tech had been added to it – one which Rick had not informed the others about because he would once again be treated to ridicule. But in a world of living angels and lost cities, every tool was a necessary tool.
This one so happened to be a tracker. A small blippy tracker you could stick on anything. So he’d stuck it to the red-gold painted arse of Atlas during their little tete-a-tete and despite paying a painful price for it, found he didn’t regret it.
Of course, the truck through the wall bit was just pure showmanship – and it was pretty funny to see the looks on their faces. The black-winged bugger and his spangled friend looked down at him from their gantry in a mixture of anger, hate and a healthy dose of surprise.
“I’m sorry for the owner of the Eddie Stobart but that was bloody fun!”
In truth, their new friend of MOO had lent him it, though in retrospect should probably have asked his intent.
“You!” the angel glared, his gaze levelling directly at Rick. He felt the faintest tingle at the back of his neck. “You will…what are you doing?”
Rick had taken to pounding on the cracked windscreen.
“Sorry, I honestly thought that would pop out like it does on the movies,” he explained honestly. He sensed the surprise of the angel turn to irritation as he continued to pound fruitlessly. After what seemed like an age, Atlas extended a hand and the windscreen shattered, crushed.
“Cheers, it’s so much easier to hear you now.”
The angel’s levelled gaze renewed and Rick simply frowned at him.
“Oh, wait, are you trying to do your weird passing out thing on me?” he asked the angel to visible surprise, “Yeah, I think you find it might not work. You know I had this whole big thing two years ago where I kind of died and then was brought back by your much nicer counterpart and hey presto – looks like death don’t have a hold on me no mo’.”
“There are other ways I could make you die,” his opponent hissed.
“Sure, you could make me watch Frozen on repeat,” he agreed, “But at some point, you’re just going to have to let it go.”
“I have been in this world a week and already I get that joke,” Atlas commented. “And know it’s a bad one.”
“They can’t all be gems,” he admitted.
“What is your plan here?” Atlas asked him, “You managed to track me down, fine. But you must surely see you are outnumbered. Did you simply decide to come after me alone and get yourself killed?”
“Ah, you see, the thing is I was a little bit eager with the whole truck idea,” he explained, “So actually, I’m not alone.”
The screech of tyres outside announced the arrival of MOO, who it also happened had their SWAT-style response team. The backup he cared about, Angel, Sandy and Andrew arrived through the hole he’d created – they’d been in one of the cars with Drake’s ‘forces’. By the sounds of it, she had a small army out there.
He stepped out of the cab, came around the side and joined the others in front of the smashed grill. For the first time in an age they stood together, united and only some of them mildly pissed at some of the others.
“This is it then is it?” the angel mocked, “This is where you make your stand?”
“No,” he admitted, “This is where we make a stand. This is us coming into your home and bashing your French doors in – and yes I know how that sounded. You dicks in the shadows who think you control everything, you know you’re not in control. You are not in control of us. You are not going to divide us. And you are not going to win. Wear whatever dead face you want, summon whichever guilt-ridden ghosts you want to be your little super-powered lieutenants, it won’t make a difference.”
“Okay, but will this make a difference?” the angel asked him, indicating down to his comrades.
In the middle of their conversation, the remaining of Atlas and Vetis’ forces had gathered around in a rough semi-circle, picking themselves out of their shock. In the middle were the four they knew of – Cyvus, gleaming metal; Lotus, dripping acid; Mary, surrounded by a cloud of smog; and Stacey, crackling with electricity. What they weren’t prepared for was the several dozen others, a crowd of people.
Under normal circumstances, they had fought worse odds against normal men and women. Amongst this crowd Rick saw the spread of fire, hands turning to rock, the crack of electricity – everything. He realised looking at them that every single one of them had whatever junk DNA region Sandy banged on about in her ‘science conversations’ activated. Turned on, powered up. What they faced was an army just like themselves.
“Okay, this is going to be fun.”