I knew better than to trust Tattletale, but I was still a little surprised when we encounter Jack and his entourage and she hadn’t appeared yet.

  “Down!” I yelled, grabbing Joy’s vest and pulling her back as Jack swung his arm.

  She fell with me, fortunately avoiding any damage from Jack’s blow. I scrambled to my feet and fired a burst, but the Siberian stepped in front and intercepted it. Her hypnotic whorls twisted as she raced towards us, but Joy had recovered by then and stopped her in her tracks with a pulse of gravity.

  I knew I could deal with the Siberian now but...fuck, I wasn’t totally sure how I’d managed it last time. I’d just grabbed and squeezed in a fit of desperation and poof. No guarantee it would work a second time, but no reason it wouldn’t either. Hopefully this time I could avoid spilling my guts on the sidewalk.

  “Let her go on three,” I snapped, throwing off my carbine and dragging two charges from my bag. I dumped it on the ground after as Joy gave me a shocked look.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “One,” I said, sticking the charges together and staring at the Siberian. Jack, I noticed, wasn’t moving to stop us.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Two,” I replied, getting ready to sprint. I took a deep breath and grit my teeth. “Three!”

  I charged, ignoring her protests, towards the Siberian. Joy’s lethal radius was five meters, and I was willing to bet that started a lot closer than expected. But as I closed, I wasn’t squashed to an unrecognizable paste. Instead the Siberian sprang up just feet in front of me, reaching out her hand to crush my skull.

  Crane’s training had been all about learning to take blows on my projection without flinching, but I couldn’t do that here. Instead I fell back on my practically ancient boxing knowledge, ducking the blow and mentally thanking Lafayette for putting up with my bullshit.

  The Siberian was fast, and I knew even the slightest blow would dash my projection and shred me. But all my training had honed my reflexes enough to at least keep up. She made short, sharp swipes as I backpedaled, aiming for my chest as if to tear out my heart. She was limited though, having to keep hold of the sphere presumably containing Manton.

  It wasn’t much of an advantage, but she was never quite facing me, always twisted to shield the sphere even though it was invincible. The clones weren’t perfect it seemed, still holding onto the idea of vulnerability despite literally being untouchable while in the Siberian’s clutches. Still, the Siberian never left a good opening for me to grab hold of her.

  So I made one. Instead of retreating as I’d been doing, I lunged when her next blow struck out. It was close, scraping my projection and filling my ears with the sound of shattering glass. But it worked, and like that I was behind her. The Siberian whirled as I kicked up a cloud of snow towards her and ducked inside it.

  She followed after me, and I allowed myself to fall to the ground, stretching my arm out as far as I could. The Siberian’s foot came down an inch from my hand, and I grasped it, squeezing with every ounce of human and parahuman strength I had. Again my ears rang with a glassy cacophony as my projection vanished.

  But so did the Siberian.

  I pounced on the sphere containing Manton and smacked the charges in place, striking the fuses and throwing myself as far away as I could. The blast slapped me like a giant’s hand, and I felt hot shards of shrapnel burn into my foot. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out, but when I looked, I saw that I was...intact.

  It worked. A sharp bark of laughter escaped my lips as I pushed myself to my feet, teeth chattering. My feet stung, but I managed to limp over and confirm there was nothing left of the Manton sphere but debris. As the ringing in my ears faded, I heard the sound of a pair of hands slowly clapping.

  “Bravo!” Jack cried from up the street, a broad grin on his face. “That was quite a show, kid. Who the hell are you?”

  “Language,” I barely caught Bonesaw chiding him.

  “You don’t remember me?” I called back, looking over his entourage. It wasn’t good. Shatterbird, Hookwolf, Crawler, two Hatchet Faces, a Murder Rat and...some kid. “I’m a little insulted.”

  “Wait, you’re not Amelia D’souza are you?” He cackled madly. “I should have realized! Who else would be insane enough to go toe to toe with the Siberian?”

  “Who else could win?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  “As always with my nominations, I’m proven right once again,” he said smugly. “So, here for a redo of our final confrontation? We never did finish that fight.”

  “As I recall, that’s because you ran away,” I said, sparing a glance to my side. Weaver had crept up just behind me, the Tinker-tech pistol she’d killed Crawler with before in hand. I clicked my tongue to get her attention and rapidly signed to her. Wait.

  “A tactical retreat,” Jack said with a shrug. “I had grander designs than simply terrorizing one small city.”

  “Terrorizing one big city,” I said dryly. “Really stepping it up.”

  “Oh don’t be coy, Amelia,” he said, taking a few slow steps closer. “You know exactly what I’m here to do.”

  “Hang out with old friends.” I narrowed my eyes, staring at the strange-looking kid next to him. “You know I figured Bonesaw was an exception, but maybe you’re just a freaky old man.”

  “Don’t be perverse,” he said, voice cooling a few degrees. “Grey Boy is also exceptional, as many young parahumans are. Perhaps I ought to show you, hm?”

  “I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “After all, I’m going to kill you.” That got another loud laugh from him.

  “Bravado on the gallows,” Jack said flippantly. “Maybe I ought to start picking your team apart, see how long that lasts.” I could feel sweat dripping down my back, and I scanned the tops of the buildings as subtly as I could.

  It was a long shot, but I was hoping Tattletale was either just late, or else preparing an ambush that would end this in seconds. Nobody in sight though, not that she’d be stupid enough to reveal herself that easily. My one advantage was that Jack loved to hear himself talk, so I could drag this out just a little.

  “Or maybe I do the same to yours,” I said, gesturing to the remains of Manton. “I’ve killed all but three of the capes you’re hanging out with before. I could do it again.” Challenge his ego, distract him with something to prove, something entertaining.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “You seem to be a font of endless confidence,” Jack drawled, crossing his arms. “But then again, you never did finish the trials. Applying to be a member, now that we’re at the end of it all hm?”

  “Why not?” I said. “I certainly qualify. Just got out of the Birdcage to come here and kill you.”

  “The Birdcage,” he said. Even from here, I could see his eyes glitter. “That certainly sounds like a story.”

  “Maybe I’ll tell you before you die,” I said, then pointed at one of the Hatchet Faces. “Or maybe I kill one of your team to prove I can, then tell you.”

  “I almost inclined to agree,” Jack said. “But we have greater things in mind. No, my Slaughterhouse will kill you and your friends, and then the rest of the world.”

  He pointed, and both Hatchet Faces and the Murder Rat charged towards us. I swore viciously and moved to intercept the nearest axe-wielding monster, and I could see Weaver angling to do the same. Murder Rat dashed between us, but there was no way for me to get her before Hatchet Face was on me.

  It wasn’t too different to fighting the Siberian. No projection to shield me, no way to take a hit. Duck, dodge, weave, that was the formula I use to avoid harm, searching for the opening that would lead to Hatchet Face’s death.

  His axe flashed past me, and I barely twisted to the side to avoid vertical bisection. The blade slammed into the ground, throwing up a dusting of snow and asphalt. It put me in the perfect place to strike, and I drew my pistol smoothly and fired three rounds into his temple as I slipped around his side.

  Hatchet Face collapsed, brains leaking onto the sidewalk. Weaver had dispatched her own opponent as well and was cleaning the blade of her knife. I twisted around and found my team racing towards us, the body of Murder Rat full of holes, embedded deep in a snow bank behind them; Joy’s doing, no doubt.

  “Nadir, report!” I barked when she approached, scanning the rest of the street. Jack and the rest of his team had gone, and I clicked my tongue in irritation.

  “We’re okay,” Joy replied shakily. “You and Weaver?”

  “Fine,” I said. “If you’re ready to move, then let’s go. We need to catch up and take Jack out.”

  “Right,” she said with a sharp nod.

  “Weaver,” I called to get her attention. “Which way?”

  “Wait one,” Weaver said shortly. “Updating the Protectorate.”

  “Zeke said you’ve done this eighteen times,” Joy said, lowering her voice. “Give me an honest answer Lia, are you okay?”

  “I’m coping,” I said flatly, doing my best to ignore the pain that was increasing ever so slowly as my adrenaline crashed. “We’re doing good, in case you’re wondering. All still alive. That’s...that’s good.”

  “I...yeah,” she agreed. “Hey, where’s your carbine?”

  “Somewhere back in the snow,” I said, gesturing to the street behind us. “Forget it, I’ve got my grenades.”

  “J grabbed your explosives,” Joy said, gesturing to him. J-Dog had taken point at the corner with Zeke, both keeping watch up and down the road. “Is Tattletale—”

  “Don’t know,” I cut her off, shaking my head. “Not here yet, or isn’t coming.”

  “She’s coming,” Weaver chimed in as she strode over. “Trust me.”

  “We’re going to need more than trust to win,” I snapped. “You ready to move now?” She nodded and gestured for us to follow.

  With no time to waste, we hurried to find Jack before it was too late.

  “He’s crossed the bridge,” Weaver huffed as we ran up a wide boulevard. “We need to hurry.”

  “Just open a portal,” I panted. We hadn’t encountered any clones during our pursuit, but we’d found plenty of dead heroes. “Put us on the other side.”

  “Doormaker is busy,” she said flatly. “Would have already if I could.”

  “Nothing to do with the plan to let him end the world, is it?”

  Weaver didn’t reply, and that was as good as confirmation. They didn’t want us to have too much of an advantage here, and clearly didn’t believe in my ability to kill Jack on my own. I’d show them, when we finally got there.

  Jack had headed almost straight south from our engagement, racing towards Manhattan. The city streets were still mostly empty, but the deeper into the cityscape we got, the more civilians we encountered. None alive, but at least the Nine hadn’t had the chance to mutilate them like the people of Killington.

  Overhead, I could see heroes streaking in. Only in ones and twos, there were still dozens of clones causing chaos throughout the city. Still, they might be able to at least slow Jack down just a little. Of course none of the dead we’d passed so far had managed that, so maybe my optimism was misplaced.

  Then again, this was farther than I’d ever got before. Dozens of fights against the same villains had given me an edge in experience that few could match. Even monsters that could no-sell my powers like Hatchet Face and the Siberian were falling to me.

  For the first time since remembering the end of the world, I actually felt like I could stop it.

  The bridge loomed ahead, massive steel arches reaching up into the low-hanging clouds above. Despite the late hour and weather, a number of abandoned cars lined the roadway. Either people who’d been evacuating had left them behind for speed or...or else hadn’t made it.

  I grit my teeth as we started crossing the river. The glittering lights of the city turned night into day, but cast harsh shadows that could hide any number of enemies. Even with Weaver watching our backs, I wasn’t confident we could get through this unscathed. Her bugs didn’t work well in the cold, I knew, so she was pretty limited compared to her usual status as a living panopticon.

  “Man I never thought I’d be rolling into Harlem like this,” J-Dog said, breathing hard but sounding oddly upbeat. “No gangsters gonna mess with us tonight, right Zeke?”

  “Hell yeah,” Zeke replied.

  “It’s Washington Heights,” Weaver said. “Harlem is further east, Jack isn’t heading there.”

  “Shit, buzzkill,” J-Dog muttered.

  “Doesn’t matter where it is,” I said. “We’ll be the meanest bastards there.”

  That got a good response at least, even if it wasn’t true. The Nine were far, far worse than we were, and we couldn’t exactly stoop to their level. But keeping my team happy was more than half my job as captain, and even if I wasn’t technically in command, they were still mine. Besides, I could stand to share my mild optimism.

  When we finally crested the bridge, I saw we weren’t going to cross unchallenged. Crawler and two Crimsons waited at the end, the former now on all fours. His skin had blackened and glittered under the streetlights, and his stance made him look more like a gorilla than a man. They charged, Crawler at the front and the Crimsons close at his flanks. Jack had sent some of his toughest capes, guys that would even give a little trouble.

  But he didn’t know about Joy.

  She sprinted past me with a loud whoop, carbine bouncing on her back. I slowed my pace slightly, ready to rush to her aid if need be, but I didn’t expect I would need to. When Joy let her power loose, there wasn’t a thing on this planet that could survive that wasn’t named after the Russian wasteland.

  Joy skidded to a halt barely ten meters from the charging villains. She shouted what sounded like a challenge and spread her arms wide. I barked at Weaver to halt so we wouldn’t run headlong into the trap, and fortunately she listened. As he approached, I could swear I saw Crawler’s teeth glistening in a wide, ugly grin.

  But like it had with so many of his clones, his confidence killed him dead. When he hit Joy’s gravity well, his body was flattened; though he was so massive I watched him crushed in detail from head to tail. The Crimsons fared little better, trying and failing to stop their headlong charge on the snowy road. They slid in range and their blood joined Crawler’s, staining the street nearly black.

  Joy yelled something and slapped her thighs, then beckoned for us to approach. Zeke and J-Dog ran ahead, grins spread across their faces. I followed behind with Weaver, though she seemed apprehensive, staring at the spreading bloodstains in the snow.

  “What exactly is her power?” Weaver asked.

  “Gravity control, but it only affects living things,” I explained. “I think it’s exponential, with how wide her circle is. The PRT said two meters was equal to ten G. Three is probably a hundred considering the damage I’ve seen it do; then four’s a thousand, and five…” I gestured to what was left of the clones.

  “She stopped the Siberian dead,” she muttered. “That’s...dangerous.”

  “Glass houses, miss warlord,” I retorted. “Considering she took the gang I wiped out the Nazis with and basically turned them into almost-legal vigilantes, we don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

  “Maybe you don’t,” Weaver said. “Still, it is perfect for this.”

  “I’m just glad we haven’t found Cherish or another Master,” I huffed. Weaver glanced at me, then looked away. I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

  “The Nine’s forces are...widespread,” she said tentatively. “I’ve been steering us away from any of their Masters.” I opened my mouth to tear a strip off her, then shut it and sighed.

  “Probably for the best,” I said flatly. There wasn’t anything I could do. There wasn’t. “How far is Jack?”

  “Eight blocks ahead,” Weaver replied. “You ready to run?” I was sore, my lungs were burning, and heart was beating out of my chest, and I was losing the feeling in my toes.

  “Into hell?” I scoffed. “Always.”