Cole was getting really, really, really tired of being blown up. He had Sasha where he wanted her- at his mercy and ready to spill her secrets when an explosion tore them apart and threw him into a wall. He must have lost consciousness for a moment there, because the next moment he was beneath a massive amount of rubble. The Jefferson Tunnel continued to collapse, with wrecked concrete raining down all around him.
He was lucky nothing landed on him, because he was certain that this would really suck.
A snarl drew his attention for a moment, and he turned his head to see Mercer crouch over him, arms absurdly muscled and...holding up a giant slab of concrete that was obviously a piece of the collapsed ceiling.
Cole blinked in confusion. "Are you seriously keeping the tunnel off my ass?"
Mercer snorted. "More like half of it."
The courier grunted and shook his head to clear it. There was dust everywhere, which made breathing harder. Cole tried to move and quickly abandoned his endeavors when his entire body started aching. Ow. He couldn't shake the feeling he was missing something...
Sasha! He inhaled sharply and whipped his head around. "Shit! Where's she?!"
"Further up", Mercer growled, head cocked upwards to glare at the rubble above. Cole mimicked his motion, staring at the scene. Several men with gas masks and heavy weapons stood at the drop, glaring down at them. Two of them dragged Sasha away.
"Hey!" Cole shouted enraged, trying to get to his feet to charge after them. He couldn't. He struggled against gravity, until he realized that one of his legs was pinned under heavy rubble.
"Shit!" He swore, pulling at his knee to free himself. Mercer took notice of it, as seconds later thick leathery tentacles slithered over the ground and wrapped around the rubble and Cole's leg. The courier made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, feebly trying to wriggle free from them. Tentacles left a very bad notion in his head, and he really didn't want them anywhere near his body (not after Sasha), but the terrorist seemingly didn't care too much. He grunted once, shifting the weight on his back and shoulders, before the tentacles constricted and easily pulled the courier free. Cole winced, his ankle was throbbing. He could see blood seep through his pant leg, and he felt the sharp pain from his foot. Great, his ankle was probably broken.
"Shit" he swore again, "I have to get after them! They have Sasha!"
"Not on that foot you won't", Mercer replied. He strained against the concrete. "We'll get her back, but we have to get out of here as quickly as possible." Like on cue, there was a hollow groan somewhere above them, and water started to trickle through many cracks. "I'm not sure how long this'll hold", the terrorist pointed out, "And I'm no great fan of being buried alive." Cole grunted in reply and carefully climbed to his feet. He had to go slowly, because his leg refused to take his weight, and he felt incredibly drained. Mercer snorted and shifted his body, then slowly stood up and let the concrete slab drop to the ground behind them. The cracks above started to split further, and more water came rushing through. The tunnel was starting to collapse entirely.
Cole started to hobble to the front, climbing through the rubble. "Who were these guys?"
"First Sons probably", Mercer replied, easily following after the courier. "Pros. They knew what they were doing."
"Can't you go after them?"
"I could", he replied, "But they won't be going anywhere and right now I'm a little worried about you drowning."
"Really?" Cole snorted as he pulled himself over a ledge, feeling his wounds knit themselves back together, though notably slower than it would usually go. "Who would have thought."
"You're the only other super-powered guy here, making you a valuable cover", the terrorist deadpanned. "Of course I would be able do this on my own, but then there would be a whole lot more screaming, dead people and destruction. Before I even get started."
The way he said that made the courier shiver. He heard stories about the extend of the destruction in Manhattan, knew that since the second attack the entire district had been abandoned. He couldn't risk this here in Empire. The people may be assholes, but they didn't deserve the same bullshit. Once was more than enough.
So there was no chance but else to have that guy use him for cover- though it worked both ways, didn't it? He could probably use him in return to make sure. I will pitch in however you need me to. He had offered this to him, and while he was dangerously loose, he was powerful. He could probably use this very well. Cole exhaled and carefully placed his weight on his damaged foot. Well, it wasn't perfect, but at least it took his weight again. "No way back", he grumbled, glancing at the tunnel mouth.
The both of them left the Jefferson Tunnel, stepping into the slums of the Warren.
--------------
Cole cringed back with a swear, blinking rapidly to try clearing his vision. He had assumed the substation that blew up in the Neon only affected the Neon- but it seemed like the entire city was without electricity.
Well, shit. Because that meant the people here had been with no energy for days already, allowing the gangs to run rampant. Plus it made his head feel all fuzzy, and he already needed some juice after fighting Sasha. He didn't had a chance to drain some electricity during this whole mess. And the tar still clung to him, making his head hurt even more with its stench. He needed a recharge as soon as possible, and that meant he either needed to find a way out of the Warren and to the Neon or at least get one of the substations online.
His phone rang, piercing into his brain with its shrill cry. He winced back, but still tapped it to reply. "Yeah?"
"Cole? What happened down there?", Moya wanted to know and she actually did sound worried. "Is Sasha dead?"
"I wish", the courier grunted. "Beat the living Hell out of her, but some guys in masks came and grabbed her. Brought the whole tunnel down."
Moya made a disgruntled noise. "It's probably the First Sons. If we're lucky, they'll take care of her for us."
'Us', sure. Moya was just pissed they couldn't get to her first.
Cole groaned. "Listen, the power's out in this whole borough and I barely have the energy to walk." Or heal his damn ankle, he was still hobbling along the street. "I need to get the nearest substation back online."
"Wait a moment..." He heard the clacking of keys. Well, even if Moya used him, he could use her right back. More power for him, and less headaches were favorable over being used like a tool. "Got it. Just a bit east of you."
"Thanks."
"Cole?"
"What?"
"You kept arguing with somebody. Is everything alright?"
Cole swallowed, glancing at Mercer. He really just wanted to tell Moya that there was a terrorist currently walking besides him, but that would be a dick move. The other was seemingly trying to keep him alive plus had kept the clinics running by himself before, so for that alone he should give him the favor of doubt. But Moya was expecting an answer, so he should say something.
"Not really", the courier replied. "Figured out the tar has some serious shelf-life, so Sasha kept invading my head the entire time."
"Well, don't let her kill off your brain", Moya warned. "We'll talk later on."
He clicked his phone off and glanced at it. Mercer kept glaring at the Warren, attention away from him. Cole sighed. "Probably should call Zeke. I wanted to get back a few hours ago."
"Plus the draw bridge had been opened. It needs to be lowered so you can get back", Mercer replied casually. "Could be very well you're stuck here."
The courier frowned, before he plucked a sheet of paper and a pencil from his pocket. 'Can you do something about this? I don't really think I can move an entire bridge.' He wrote. Mercer shrugged.
"I can try", he answered. "Just make sure the place has power."
Cole nodded, then called Zeke.
"Zeke. Pick up."
"Hey brother!", Zeke answered, "Where the Hell you been?"
Cole sighed. "It's a long story. I'll tell you later. Wanted to let you know I'm over in the Warren."
"The Warren?" Zeke gasped, "That place had been a nightmare-central before the Blast. Hate to see what it's like now."
Nightmare. That was one way to explain it. Cole frowned at the sight of trash littered everywhere, people cowering in the shadows, and burning barricades cutting them off. Somebody had taken full control over the place and was lording over it with fear. Then he saw a group of armed people standing across the street, glaring at him and Mercer.
They wore a wild criss-cross of clothes, from old jackets and faded jeans to cobbled-together armor and...bags over their heads. He figured they were the ones running everything here.
"Dustmen", Mercer supplied helpfully after noticing his stare. "They're called the Dustmen. They're controlling this entire sector, under orders of their leader."
"Huh", Cole muttered. Another gang, just like the Reapers. "You are well-informed", he mumbled.
Mercer's lips twitched. "The open drawbridge doesn't stop me. I've been here before, over at the steel harbor, to collect information. Their boss is an old man called Alden. Conduit, most likely."
He blinked. Another conduit? Really? That meant that there were five of them now: Him, Kessler, Sasha, Alden and Mercer. Plus the Reaper conduits, number unknown. Had they all been activated by the Blast? Then how close had they been when everything went to Hell?
Cole grunted and shook his head, watching how the Dustmen started moving towards them, holding their rifles upwards and eyes narrow behind their trash bag masks. "Man, screw these guys. All I want is get home and sleep."
"I got this", Mercer replied. "You start that substation- we don't need these fucks hiding in the dark."
"Uh, Cole?", Zeke asked, "Who're you talkin' to?"
"My head", Cole replied smoothly. "Got doused in that crap tar and am still seeing voices." He shifted his body to make a break for it while Mercer flexed his fingers and headed towards the approaching Dustmen. "I'll give you a call when I figured out how to get home."
"Keep your nose to the wind, man", Zeke told him with a worried tone, then cut the connection.
Cole dashed to the side. One of the Dustmen yelled and swung his rifle into his direction, but Mercer was faster. He shot across the street within the blink of an eye, tackled into the group and just flung them back into the alleyway they have come from. Cole ignored their startled yells that were suddenly cut off, so he just kept on running. He had a substation to restart, get some more powers from it and end that god-damned headache.
The manhole cover was just a few blocks away from the collapsed tunnel, and he easily pried it open to drop through and land on the maintenance grate below. He groaned in pain from his head, but luckily there was a fuse box nearby. And more importantly- a fuse box that still had power. He drained it, feeling his exhaustion quickly fade away and his ankle righting itself as it knit itself back together.
His phone rang again.
"I pulled some intel on the Warren", Moya's voice echoed over the sloshing of the sewage beneath. "A couple of days after the Blast, the homeless people living there banded together and seized control of the entire borough. They call themselves the Dustmen."
He scoffed. "Guess that explains why they're all wearing trash bags."
"I suspect they're lead by an extremely powerful conduit", Moya continued, "It'd be a big mistake to underestimate them."
"I get it." He wasn't going to make that mistake again. He had learnt that lesson through continued bullet fire anyways. "I'm going to start the substation, then get out of here. Got to find a different way to deal with these idiots though." He hopped off the grate and onto a pipe, carefully balancing along it.
He thought about the Dustmen. The Reapers were one thing. They had been civilians at one point, but his newest 'friend' had told him that only the tar was keeping them running. The same tar that had taken away all their individuality and turned them into mindless drones under Sasha's control. They were victims, but victims beyond any help- releasing them from this Hell was the only thing they could do for them.
But the Dustmen- they didn't seem to be under the control of some mind-raping tar. They were doing this from their own free will. They hurt others, controlled innocent civilians because they wanted to. And in a way, that made them even worse than the Reapers. And that meant that they didn't deserve even one shred of mercy. Martial law and vigilantism were the rule here anyways, and nobody was going to miss these bastards.
The courier scowled and moved through a maintenance hatch, then jumped off to reach the underground transformer. It had the same build as the others had, so that made it easy figuring out what to do. Cole jumped up and grabbed the coils, closing the circuit with his own body.
The energy slamming through him felt divine after this whole mess with Sasha. He felt himself becoming stronger, injuries and exhaustion being wiped away while deep inside him new powers were unlocked.
He wondered what he got this time as he let go of the coils and dropped back, landing in a crouch with lightning still arching away from him. His fingers and arms tickled in a way that was familiar to him- his feet felt similar when he learnt his grinding. So this power had something to do with his arms, huh?
He focused on it, and lightning snapped from the palms of his hands. Cole's brow went upwards as he noticed the power from this pressing against his shoulders, as if the energy was trying to push him upwards. He tensed his muscles and jumped up, focusing the lightning again.
He hovered in place, descending at a much slower pace.
Cole blinked and tried it again as soon his feet touched the ground, this time trying to steer into a different direction. He moved, slowly soaring into the direction he wanted to go. It felt a bit like being Ironman.
A grin was plastered over his face. "Oh Hell yes."
He glanced over into the darkness, finding more remains of the catwalk poking out of the sewage. He could probably jump the distance with no problem, but where was the fun? He sprinted and jumped, concentrating those static thrusters- and completely passed the first grate to land on the second one.
Well, looks like he could almost fly. Cool.
"Traveling with style", he grinned. He started running down the sewers, using his newly-acquired thrusters to easily cross gaps he would have needed to waste incredible amounts of time for. This was just plain awesome.
He stopped quickly though, eyes narrowing when he noticed the hushed whispers coming from further down the canal. He heard things like 'That's him', and 'Shoot him'. So there were Dustmen down here too.
He scrunched up his nose and carefully approached the other side, glancing down.
The Dustmen were standing inside the sewage, hoping to take him by surprise. Cole swallowed the bile that threatened to climb into his throat (because what the Hell?! This was just plain gross!) and set his face into a scowl. Well, looks like they were about to learn what 'conductive' meant. He didn't even need to shoot the guys, it was enough to just shoot the sewer water next to them to fry all of them and make them reel over. He left them to drown.
No mercy at all.
Traversing the sewer was easy with the thrusters, and Cole figured that he could cross immense distances as long his starting point was high enough. He also figured that the Dustmen were a lot more dangerous than the Reapers, because he faced two of them in a short succession that had bazookas. The courier rolled to the side in mid-air, drawing his thrusters back to drop to the ground. He gathered lightning, and unleashed it upon making contact, frying the guys and blowing their guns up.
The deeper he went, the more it became apparent that he was endlessly dependent on his new power. There was barely any catwalk left for him to walk along, instead there were only tanks and pipes that peeled out of the darkness and allowed him only a short moment of time to latch onto. The ladders he climbed along felt grimy, even through his half-gloves, and they were incredibly rusty, worrying him that they might snap under his weight.
But eventually, he did manage to find the substation. He panted slightly from exhaustion- focusing on his thrusters took a lot out of him, though he was proud of himself. He charged the station back on, watched how it came to life, before he turned and headed back. He still had to figure out a way to get back to the Neon.
-----------
When Cole slipped out of the manhole, he was pleased to see this part of the Warren come back to life. He felt drained from his trip through the sewers, so he headed to the nearest street light and charged himself up.
His phone rang, and Cole picked up.
"Hey Cole", Zeke greeted him. "Remember Dwight?"
"Of course", the courier replied. "He stole your car and sold it for the parts. Trish had to come and pick us up."
"Well, yeah", Zeke stumbled over his own tongue for a bit, until he managed to pick up his line again. "Anyways, I just ran into his sister. She thinks he's in some kind of trouble. Wants to know if you'll look for him."
Cole exhaled. "Look- I'm tired. I'm doused with mind-raping tar. I'm stuck in the Warren with blood thirsty bums that have automatic weapons. And I still have no idea how to get back to the Neon. Give me one good reason why I should look for Dwight."
Zeke cleared his throat, and it was easy picturing him running his hand through his hair. "Uh, because I've dug his sister for a real long time now- and, uh, you'd be doing me a real solid with this one."
Cole was just floored with the reply. He slowly, very slowly, placed his palm in his face. "And you think", he concluded, "If I find Dwight, she'll 'reward' you?"
"Hell, it's not like I can do anything from here", Zeke groused. "She says Dwight was hangin' around the Chummy Chicken the last time they talked, 'cuz he was working over there. That might be a good place for you to start."
"Zeke", Cole groaned. "I have no real intention to go look for your buddy. I can't even stand him."
"C'mon, man. You'd do me a favor."
The courier grunted. "Fine", he growled, "I'll go look for him. But you- you will make sure I get a cold beer when I get back, otherwise I will zap you."
"Thanks man!"
Zeke cut the connection and Cole remained the way he had been: With one hand placed firmly in his face to smother the urge to scream.
But he had no real idea how to get back into the Neon anyways, so might as well test out the waters of the Warren and check on Dwight. Maybe he got some Dustmen to fry.
He sprinted towards a tall apartment building and scaled the dirty wall, then heaved his body over the edge and started running over the roof to jump off it, creating his thrusters to glide towards the train tracks.
His phone rang again.
"Cole, you there?"
Cole nearly botched the landing, barely managed to land on an overhead signal light with a heavy thud and swaying from his own momentum. He stabilized his balance in a heartbeat and answered the call.
"Hi Trish"
"It's getting bad over here", his girlfriend said in a worried tone, "People are dying."
Oh no. This was even worse than he thought. Cole frowned darkly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"I don't think so", the nurse replied with a tired voice. "I need to get a bus over to the Bayview and see if it still has any supplies."
Cole looked over to where the massive hospital sat in the darkness. "I came through the tunnel", he explained, "But it's trashed. Same with the Stone Canal Drawbridge."
Trish was silent for a moment. "You remember Roger Millers from Amy's graduation? He's a city engineer that used to work with my dad. If anyone can fix the bridge, it'll be him."
"You have any idea where he could be?"
"He lives by Valentine Park- though...I haven't heard of him in a while."
Valentine Park- the Chummy Chicken was on the way there, so he could check up on Dwight first. "I'll try to find him", Cole assured her.
"Thanks, Cole"
Trish ended the call. The courier snorted and lunged off the beam to land on the tracks below and start grinding along them. Three seconds later Cole wondered whether he could use his thrusters to increase his grinding speed- so he tried it by fanning his hands to the back and focused on his thrusters.
He tumbled off the tracks at the next sharp turn, having gone too fast to actually pay any attention on his surroundings. Okay. Note to self: figure out how to steer before going any faster than thirty miles.
He shook his head and stood up to check the area. He was near the docks, and near the Chummy Chicken. He never liked eating there- the waitresses always looked like they hated everybody around, it smelled of grease and all children present were loud spoiled brats. It was only good if one was hungover as Hell.
Which was probably why Dwight worked there.
As he rounded the restaurant, he stopped in his tracks. There was a body in front of him. Cole blinked for a second, before he went over and knelt down, feeling for a pulse. There was none, but the body was also still warm. And the blood pool still fresh. Cole turned the corpse over, and a grim frown settled on his face.
It was Dwight.
Well, he couldn't say he was very sad about this, but it just showed him how serious the situation in Empire was. People died on the streets, people he knew. How long until it were Zeke or Trish? Plus, these wounds didn't look like they had been torn by bullets. This looked more like...claws? Like Mercer then, but that dead guy here was still in one piece and the wounds were too uneven, too messy.
He muttered explicits under his breath and called Zeke. "Zeke?"
"You found him?"
"Yeah." He exhaled. "Dwight's dead, Zeke. Someone really messed him up."
"Aw man!", Zeke complained. "His sister's gonna flip out when I tell her that." Cole almost heard the light bulb going click in Zeke's brain. "Hell!" He exclaimed, "You should find the guys who did it. I could play off that angle."
The courier groaned. "Really, Zeke?! Your friend's dead and all you think is-"
"C'mon man. I need this."
"There is something deeply wrong with you, Zeke", Cole grumbled. He thought for a moment what to do now, when he remembered Brandon and Lynnae.
He had seen what she saw before her death, so maybe it would work with Dwight too. He placed both hands at the dead man's temples and focused, carefully sending a weak discharge into his brain to jump start it.
And witness his last moments.
"What the Hell?" Dwight saw something at the corner, something glowing, carefully edging towards him. As it came around, he noticed it were crab-like things. Cole frowned, concentrating. These things glowed yellow, looked like they were made from trash metal, and were about the size of a large pumpkin.
They lunged at him, and Cole ground his teeth together as he felt the man's pain when they tore into him. "No! Stay away from me! ARRGHHH!"
He flinched back, panting when the phantom pain subsided. He just witnessed the guy die from his point of view. It was worse than Lynnae's death too, because this was neither fast, nor merciful.
"Cole?" Zeke asked, "You sounded weird just now."
"Possibly", Cole replied, shaking his head to concentrate. He filtered through the electronic residues around, and came back with three clear ones: His own, blaring into his senses, Dwight's, and a third one.
His killer.
"Gotcha" Cole followed the trail, the electronic 'hand print' of the killer. "Got the trail, Zeke. I'm going to take that bastard down", he growled into his phone.
"Uh...You used that Jedi Psycho vision thingy?"
"It's hard to make out", Cole replied with a frown, trying to focus on the echo. "Looks like a man and a dog, or something."
"Dwight was killed by a dog?", Zeke shuddered. "Damn. Had a cousin that went the same way." He inhaled sharply. "Whew. Shouldn't have had an open casket, but ol' Smitty wanted one. People were passing out, puking, you name it. It was horrible. Still haven't recovered from that one."
"Yeah, then probably you shouldn't ever meet Christine's dog", Cole replied off-handedly. He didn't really pay any attention to what he said, because the echo was still running away from him. "Big black beast. More bear than dog, really." He narrowed his eyes, following after echo. He passed some dude hanging posters on the walls, but didn't pay any further mind to it. The killer had walked through an alley, so he went after him.
His feet skidded across the ground when his senses told him he was close. And in danger. The trash cans in the mouth of the alley exploded, revealing five of those trash crabs. They screeched a metallic shriek and advanced towards him. Cole exhaled in annoyance. "You gotta be kidding me."
He leveled a hand at them and shot several lightning bolts, frying the things and shattering them. He frowned, because they were incredibly pathetic. The slightest amount of power and they broke. Cole shook his head and continued his way, before he stopped next to the remains of the trash crabs.
They were only made of trash, no joints or electronics...He frowned. But they had been glowing, and they were moving. Logically, there was nothing that should allow them exactly that. They should have remained a pile of trash, so what...
His brows furrowed. Conduits. Like those of the Reapers. Of course!
Only, it seemed, the Dustmen had conduits that could make trash come to life. So they were telekinetic?
"Look what we have 'ere"
Cole paused, head slowly moving upwards to stare right into the muzzle of a rifle. Four Dustmen sneered down at him. The courier scowled.
He lunged at the closest guy, too fast for him to react properly. Cole send a violent uppercut into the man's jaw, snapping his head back and breaking his spine in the process. Oops.
Well, superhuman strength was apparently part of the package. He didn't care though- these guys had made their choice. Now he made his.
He threw his arm out, smacking the others with a shockwave backwards and started shooting lightning bolts at them while they were falling back. Once they hit the ground, they didn't get up again. Cole didn't bother checking whether they were still alive (didn't care either) and continued jogging after the echo. He knew he wouldn't have too much time, any later and the trail would have gone cold.
"Any luck?", Zeke asked.
"Not yet", Cole replied. "Dealing with some crab-things that are running all over the place. I think the transients are making them from old parts."
"Keep looking, man. Gotta find the trash-bagger that killed Dwight."
Cole scowled deeper, witnessing a group of Dustmen rushing around the corner. He had his arm outstretched to zap them, but caught a rocket to the face before he could do anything.
He did manage to throw a shockwave in time, but was flung backwards, though he bounced to his feet quick enough. His jacket was pretty much done for, however. It was a shame. It had been such a nice jacket. The courier pushed back forwards, through the blast, and towards the Dustmen- who seemed more than shocked to see him.
They didn't last too long once he set his mind into it. With a groan, he doubled over, hands against his knees to stop shaking. He couldn't stop here now, but he was so incredibly tired. He drained a nearby lantern to heal himself, then continued after the echo. He felt still tired, but at least he wasn't in pain anymore. Just a little while longer, and he could return home for some sleep. A group of trash crabs tried to ambush him, but they were dealt with fast enough too.
"Fricken' junk monsters"
He passed the Eaglepoint Penitentiary, and paid it no attention. No, his focus centered solely on the guy at the end of the road.
He was pretty large, dressed in the same wild mixture of junk clothes like all the other Dustmen, had a massive bazooka slung over his shoulder, and he also wore armor made of metal plates. He glared at Cole, but didn't say anything. Instead, he slammed his fists together and made the trash around him float, fashioning it into trash crabs.
So definitely a telekinetic conduit. Shit.
Cole pulled his lips away from his teeth in a snarl. "Finally found your sorry ass."
The conduit fired his rocket launcher. Cole flung himself to the side to avoid the projectile and started rushing towards him in a wide arc. The man couldn't move fast enough because of his armor, making him easy prey. Cole pounced at him, throwing him over with his own body weight.
"Get off me!" The conduit snapped.
"Not gonna happen", Cole snarled at him. "Now hold still." He slapped his palm into the man's face. "That's for being an asshole."
He started draining the man's neuroelectric energies, holding him still as he thrashed and convulsed. But once the man fell limp, his trash creations collapsed as well. Cole got off the body and shook himself. He didn't enjoy killing, but that guy had it coming. And if he simply let his instincts take over, he was deadly and highly efficient.
And that guy was never going to harm anybody again.
He tapped his phone. "Hey Zeke", he said. "I took care of the guy that greased Dwight." His brow furrowed. "And just so we're clear: this was a one-time deal. I'm not doing this to help you score."
"I hear ya, brother", Zeke replied with a delighted tone. "I owe you a big one."
Cole snorted. Sure. Whoever believes that. He turned and looked at the street sign, realizing that he was pretty close to the Valentine Park.
He could check for Roger.
Cole headed over, but his feet skidded to a stop at the sight of the scene. "This doesn't look good."
Several Dustmen, all dead, were strewn about. He could see the limbs bent at wrong angles, could see the caved-in sections of their bodies, and he saw the impact craters in the ground. Also, there was nobody around that looked like Roger- so somebody freed him.
The courier exhaled in relief. There was only one in the entire city who had the balls to face the gangs- other than himself. Looks like Mercer did what he asked him to.
-----------
After having taken out the three Dustmen that had tried to ambush him, Alex had headed over to the Stone Canal Drawbridge and had puzzled over how to get it working again. He had seen the control panels and decided that he had no idea how to repair it.
He was a highly intelligent man, having access to the most brilliant minds of their time, but none of them had any knowledge about damaged drawbridges. He could create viral life forms through genetic modifications from scratch. He could drive and repair tanks and gunships. He had knowledge on how to make his own Crystal Meth, how to forge documents, bribe the right people and play several musical instruments- but repairing a bridge? Fuck it. He needed somebody who did.
Problem was: Where could he find somebody like that?
"Hands over yer head"
He turned slowly, glaring at the man threatening him with a shotgun. Alex scowled at him and his three buddies. "No"
"Then say good-bye to yer fuckin' brains!" The man squeezed the trigger and Alex's world turned dark.
Well, he had to hand it to these guys: they really did not screw about. And going for the head was a smart choice. If he had been any other.
Too bad he wasn't any other. Blowing off his skull didn't stop him. It only made him kill whoever shot him in the most painful way possible.
He focused on getting his eyes back first, watching in amusement at the terrified expressions of the Dustmen as his skull regenerated, facsimile of bones, tissues and skin snapping back into existence through hundreds of fine tendrils. He turned to face them fully, grinning demonically when his hood re-formed and slipped over his head on its own accord. He bared his teeth and his eyes started glowing red. "My turn."
He jumped at the four shocked men, slamming one fist through each of the chests of the first two, killing them. His tendrils rose from his back and slipped into their flesh, infecting and turning them into Blacklight Biomass for consumption. While their remains were still pulled into his body with wet smacks, he was already moving again, overwhelming the other two men and consuming them as well.
He should have had enough Biomass from the Reaper compound at the Jefferson Bridge, but the red tar, while not real Bloodtox, did have strong anti-viral properties which made it even more effective than the real deal (screw that bitch!). It had killed his body faster than he could adapt to it, and that required him to slice off about half of his total mass. Which meant, he felt slightly starved already.
It was a good thing he found such willing subjects. The ones he got after leaving Jefferson Tunnel- he had tried to consume them, but had quickly smothered that idea to avoid the courier watching. Now, however, there was nobody else around.
Alex pulled back, his sides squirming as his body broke down the rifles before discarding them as trash. He closed his eyes, watching how four new lives unfolded inside his mind.
In an instant, his face set into a deep frown, and his mood worsened. Those four Dustmen- they were the lowest of the low, scum in every sense of the word. All of them had ended up living on the streets, all four because they couldn't keep a single job, no matter how easy it had been, just because they couldn't stop being assholes. And then, after the Blast, they got adopted by this Alden Tate, and became his soldiers.
And, under him, they committed crimes. First small ones, like stealing from the various stores, then from people's homes. Then they went on with blackmailing, violence, rape, murder. Their morality had been degrading fast.
In the end, they started to capture every single engineer and mechanic from all over the Warren and dragged them away to work on Alden's Tower. They worked them to death even, and whoever refused was executed in public to scare the others into submission.
Not even Blackwatch had sunken to that low. What they did was effective and it was the only way to curb in a raging infection, no matter what ethics an morale said. It was their job to wipe out a plague, and they were damn good at it, civilian casualties or not. But plain murder for not wanting to be forced into labor, just to scare others? This served no purpose other than make themselves larger than they were. This didn't serve a greater Good.
This was slavery.
Alex snarled enraged, glaring at the massive tower jutting out from the center of the Warren.
He was maybe inhuman, but they were the monsters. No human had the right to demolish another's life. Taking everything a person is and make them a slave was something he would never allow. It was the human's own decision how to destroy their own lives, but it was theirs. Nobody was allowed to have any say in it.
He should head over there now, destroy all of them and soak the Warren with blood, make sure he got every last of the Dustmen.
But he couldn't. He didn't want to be found out, but that resolve was rapidly weakening with every piece of scum he consumed. Soon he wouldn't be able to hold himself back any longer- and then he would start murder everything, consequences be damned. Once that point was reached, there would be no turning back.
He thought that maybe he had to get the courier in on it as well. Something told him he too was willing to tear these fucks limb from limb for what they've done. Whether he was aware of it or not- both of them were kindred spirits.
The first one after Cross and Heller.
Alex turned, glancing into the direction of the cemetery. The four Dustmen knew that tonight there was another execution: Another engineer that refused to work on Alden's Tower.
An engineer, Alex knew, who would be able to fix the bridge- or in the very least, knew somebody who could. Exactly the kind of person he'd been looking for. So he jumped off the floor and headed towards the Valentine Park.
Crossing the distance was no great problem, staying unseen wasn't either- the civilians were too scared to look outside, and too dumb to check the sky or roofs.
The Blacklight Runner stopped atop a two-story, run-down building, while glaring at the scene before him. He saw a man cowering on the floor, four more Dustmen around him, waving guns and throwing insults. Alex realized that this was the engineer they wanted to kill to make a statement, though apparently the crowd wasn't big enough. However, it was too big for Alex to act without restraints. So he couldn't simply drag the guy off with his Whipfist (plus he might take offense in it). What to do...what to do.
But then again, Alex had always been the more direct type.
He scanned the area, to make sure all of the Dustmen were in one place, before he crouched low and coiled his muscles, then pulled back the Biomass making up his jacket and hoodie as an afterthought. Once his surface had settled on the simple shirt, he released his pent-up energy and catapulted himself through the air, crossing the distance easily.
He landed heavily in front of the engineer, startling the Dustmen, but didn't give them a chance to react. He rushed to the front and slammed both fists into the ground. Three out of four bums were thrown off their feet through the force, careening through the air, while the fourth was far away enough to merely stagger. Still, good enough for the Runner. Alex moved even before he managed to turn around, leaping above him and smashed him beneath his weight. The moment the other three hit the ground, Alex was already upon them. He stomped on the biggest guy, snapping his neck to kill him, before he grabbed the other two and easily crushed their throats, leaving them to suffocate.
Finished with them and with no other foes left, he turned and dusted his hands off, heading towards the engineer. The man stared at him with wide, panicked eyes. 'Good job. Scaring the shit out of the guy I just wanted to rescue'.
Alex mentally face-palmed, though outwardly he tried to look less like he wanted to continue murdering people. He eyed the man. "Cole MacGrath sent me", he told him simply.
The man's eyebrows went up in surprise. "The guy with the powers?!" He asked, "He's here?"
Alex nodded. "The drawbridge is out. He needs it lowered." He inclined his head, watching the man. "Can you fix it?"
"Hell, if you keep those bastards off my ass, I'll be fixing up a goddamn Jumbo Jet for you."
"Good" The Runner turned and glanced down the street. "We'd better get moving then."
"Yeah. It's better." The engineer began jogging up besides the him. "Uh- thanks for getting me out of that."
Alex furrowed his brows slightly. Usually people screamed and ran when he killed others, even without the use of his weapons. If they were thanking him however, then the entire situation was even more fucked up than he thought.
"You know where the others are held?" He asked instead. "The other mechanics?"
"Close to their 'Tent city'", the engineer snorted. The tag on his shirt read 'Millers'. "But you'll need an army if you want to get them out."
Alex snorted. "Don't worry"
He lifted his arm, signaling Millers to stop, when a heavily armored Dustman came around the corner. He noticed them too and slammed his fists together, creating...crawling constructs made of trash.
Another conduit?
Alex's eyes narrowed. With Millers here, he couldn't consume the guy, though there were going to be more of them anyways. So he didn't need to keep this one intact. His expression shifted to a smirk, and he ducked low. The next moment, he pushed off the ground to sprint towards the conduit, crushing the approaching trash crabs beneath his feet before he collided into the man. The sheer force of his tackle snapped several ribs and send the man hurtling backwards. Before he even hit the ground, Alex already pounced on him and slammed his head hard against the ground, severing his spine in several places. He crushed his throat to make sure he was dead, then pulled back easily. Millers approached him fearfully. Alex only grunted and jerked his chin into the direction of the Stone Canal Drawbridge. The way was clear now, though there were more than enough Dustmen coming towards them. Millers reached the bridge first, and immediately started going over the controls.
"Man. This is screwed up nine ways from Sunday", he complained. He tapped a few keys and glanced at Alex. "Uh...keep an eye on my back while I fix this?"
Alex nodded. "Sure"
The engineer started tapping buttons and turning knobs, while Alex watched as long it was possible until the group of Dustmen finally breached their position, charging them. The Runner merely rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers. "I got them", he said, and jumped at the closest guy before he could even react. Using the momentum of his blow, Alex slid across the floor towards the others with the body still pinned beneath his feet. He didn't pull out his claws for this. They were just human, after all, and broke just as easily as one.
He quickly dispatched them, using punches, scythe-like kicks and brutal stomps to clear out the area without any troubles. Bodies shattered, and more than a few times he slightly underestimated his strength and blew clear holes through the men, instead of just collapsing their chests or break their spines. Whatever helped him stop these bastards- dead was dead and in the end, it didn't matter what got the job done as long it did get done.
It reminded him of that time he had protected Ragland back in that abandoned Blackwatch compound. Even with the parasite eating into his back and his powers restricted, he had managed to hold several Walkers and Hunters off their asses long enough for the doctor to finish his work.
Satisfied, he dusted his hands off as he headed back to the engineer, the man eying him with arched eyebrows. He glanced at the bodies littering the street, then cleared his throat. "Guess they don't want the bridge open." He tapped a few buttons with an annoyed sigh. "Main circuits are fried too. Need to bypass this."
"Take your time", Alex replied when more Dustmen ran towards them. "I'm far from finished."
He decimated the next group just as easily as the first one, then returned to the engineer, just in time for the electricity to get back online in the Warren.
"Like on signal", Millers grinned and pressed a button. The drawbridge creaked and started to lower itself, but stopped at around half its closed state. Millers pressed the button again before he huffed out. "You've got to be kidding me!" He complained, "The Hydraulics on the other side aren't engaging."
"Can you fix them?"
"No", the engineer explained. "Has to be done on the far side of the bridge."
"So?" Alex cocked his head. He could easily grab the guy and haul his ass over to the other side, though there was a strange expression on his face, before the man snapped his fingers. "I know!" He exclaimed. "I know someone" He grabbed his radio and switched it on. "Lou? This is Roger", he started, stopping Alex in his attempt to just carry that guy over and make him fix the other side. "The hydraulics of the SC isn't engaging and I need your help getting it online. Where are you?"
Alex came closer, listening to the exchange. "Memorial Park, near the bridge", 'Lou' replied in a hushed tone. "But unless you're carrying a gun, I won't be going anywhere. Reapers are swarming all over the place."
This gave Alex pause, because without Sasha the Reapers should have degenerated into mindless puppets without any control. But it did seem they still had a sort of 'basic' programming, allowing them to function even without their Queen.
"Well", Roger glanced at Alex. "I'm sending something better than a gun. See you in a bit." He clicked the radio off and turned to the other. "Uh...would you mind?"
"Not at all", the man replied. "I'll get him back." He cut himself off when he remembered those sadistic attempts Dana made in getting him more social. "More importantly though- are you going to be alright?" He asked with a small wince, as if it was physically hurting him.
"Guess so. You did take out quite a lot of them, so I doubt they'll be back too fast. Just hurry, please."
Well, 'hurry' was something Alex excelled at. He could run through half Manhattan, blow up tanks and UAVs on the way and still be on time to prevent Blackwatch from finding Dana's hideout. He sure as Hell could find an engineer.
He sprinted up the half-lowered bridge, easily leapt across the gap and landed on the other side without even slowing down. Instead, he pushed his speed up and started running, making the street buckle and warp beneath his feet as he dashed past.
Reaching Lou was easy, taking out the few Reapers patrolling the perimeters was even easier.
He turned to the hidden engineer. "You alright?"
"Holy crap!" Lou gasped, staring at the Reaper Alex just flattened into the ground. "That was insane." He eyed the Runner. "Uh, better than a gun, huh? You the guy Roger sent?"
"I am. Come, there isn't much time."
He headed back towards the bridge, this time at a slower pace so the engineer could follow him. He did see several Reapers, but they hung back, watching him from beneath their hoods. Alex had no intention to waste any time hunting them down yet, though it was apparent that even without Sasha they were able to function to a certain degree. Not like the Infected.
He exhaled annoyed. This meant they would still be able to harass the people, though without the source of the tar, there wouldn't be any new Reapers. It was just a matter of time before they were wiped out.
They reached the drawbridge in silence, with Lou panting like he just ran a Marathon. Alex didn't care too much. He was more focused on the enraged snarls echoing down the street. Reapers, and they weren't happy with someone trying to break their hold on the Neon.
"Start working", he instructed, "I'll keep those Reapers off your back."
They weren't too much of a threat, however. Without someone to control their actions, their strategy was simply to try to overwhelm whoever they wanted to take down with sheer numbers. They wielded their guns with precision, but didn't employ anything bigger than a machine gun. To Alex, this wasn't even worth his full attention. All he needed to do was to beat the ever-living fuck out of these bastards, and make sure they didn't get up again. Which they usually didn't after taking a blow from the Runner.
As soon none were left, Alex turned and headed back over the bridge, just in time to see Dustmen approach Roger. The Runner sighed in annoyance and jumped off, snapped his legs back to soar over them, and then shot straight down, impacting into the street with so much power he easily turned the largest part of the group into paste, and killed any other with the shockwave.
Despite everything, he found he was having...fun. The type of mindless fun he didn't have experienced very often since Manhattan. It had been stealth consuming and taking out cartels the entire time- stalking and observing and very little bloodbath- but now he could easily take out foes that helpfully identified themselves. Just a shame he couldn't go all out with his claws.
Roger stared at the massive red stain and the deep crater and swallowed. "I don't think they're going to cause much trouble anymore", he muttered. "Uh, thanks for the rescue- but I think you might want to check up on Lou?"
Alex sighed and headed back across the bridge, taking notice of the guys atop the building just across from Lou's working place. No rest for the wicked, huh? He pushed off the floor and headed towards the building, then simply jumped against its wall to sprint upwards and take the guys out. He grabbed the biggest one by the shoulders and jumped back down, slamming him into the ground to smash him and three more Reapers into a stain.
"Uh...great work, man", Lou swallowed nervously. "Uh, not to make you angry, but it looks like there isn't enough power to-" He paused. "Okay. Now there's enough power. Guess that's it. Now if you don't mind, I need to find someplace safe."
Alex didn't mind, but rather headed back across the bridge. He stopped next to the gap to see a tell-tale arc of lightning channeled into the control panels. So, MacGrath was back then.
The Runner arrived next to the courier just as the latter finished charging up the hydraulics to make them work. The bridge creaked and lowered itself to form a passage. Roger stood besides the courier, shaking his head. "And to think, if I had taken early retirement, I would have missed all of this." He exhaled. "I think I need to get my head examined."
"Thanks for helping with the bridge", MacGrath said. He glanced at Alex, voice lowering to a barely audible whisper. "Thanks for taking this over."
"No sweat", Roger claimed. "Tell Trish I said Hello." He glanced at the Runner. "Uh, thanks to you too, but it could have worked with a little less violence."
"Probably", Alex shrugged. "Wouldn't have been as much fun, though."
"Okay. Guess you'll need a shrink then too." Roger sighed. "I'll be off then, look for a safe place to stay."
"Good luck", the courier called after him. They waited for a moment before he turned to the viral weapon of mass destruction. "Good to see you managed to help here", he muttered, having placed his hand over his phone to smother any sound. "I trust it wasn't too much trouble?"
"Not really, no", Alex shook his head. "Was actually a better work-out than what I usually do."
The courier frowned, and glanced at the crater with the ground remains of the Dustmen. "I don't really want to know what you 'usually' do. Nope. Never in my life." He tapped his phone and called the nurse.
"Hi, you've reached Trish Dailey's voice mail", her voice told them, "Please leave a message." The courier arched his eyebrows. "Guess she finally went to bed then?" He picked up his tone. "Trish, I just wanted to let you know that the drawbridge is down. I'll give you a call tomorrow and see how things are going."
He ended the call, but picked another number. "Hey Zeke, you still on the roof?"
Alex tilted his head slightly. Zeke, that was his roommate, right?
"You know it, brother", a cheery voice replied. "Trying to hook up with Dwight's sister- you swinging by for a little siesta?"
MacGrath yawned. "Yeah. See you in a bit."
Alex tilted his head slightly. "I'll be going too", he said. "I'll be in touch."
The courier yawned again and nodded. "Hey", he muttered, "Thanks for your help. You know, you could have been a real asshole and left them to die, but you didn't. So, thanks. Guess you aren't as much of a bastard as you seem."
The Runner snorted. "Just see you'll get some rest. If you return tomorrow, this place is going to be out for your blood. You have broken the hold they had on this place- they are going to want vengeance."
"Yeah, thanks for shitting all over my achievements", the courier yawned and stretched, "But I guess that's what I get for trying to play Hero." He turned and headed across the bridge to walk back into the Neon.
Alex watched him for a moment, then turned and glanced at the great tower. He still had something left to do. He wouldn't raze the Dustmen's tent city, but he would make sure to get the captives out. He felt he owed it to them. And if he got his hands on a few high-ranking Dustmen with knowledge he could need, he certainly wouldn't say no.