Got anything to back that up with?
The titan nodded its huge skull. “Yep. He said I was... damn, something from a television show.” It reached up a hubcap-sized hand and scratched its head. “He said you guys watched a bunch of seasons together. That’s how you’d know I was okay.”
What show was it?
“Oh, come on, man. I don’t even think he told me the name.” The battlesuit snapped its fingers, a noise like a hammer hitting an anvil. “I’m five. He said to tell you I’m five. That sound right?”
It sets the stage for some IQ jokes, but that’s about it.
“About time you stopped, you bastard.”
Danielle half-jogged out of the alley to the west. She gave the Cerberus armor a glare and looked like she might take a swing at Zzzap. “I’ve been chasing you for fifteen minutes now.”
Hey, he said. I’ve been looking for you, too.
“So have I,” chimed the battlesuit.
“Here’s a tip,” she panted at the gleaming wraith. “If you want someone to reach you, try moving at less than three hundred miles an hour.”
Ahhh. Didn’t think of that. Sorry.
She rested her hands on her knees. “I think I’m going to puke.” She glanced up at the titan. “What the hell are you doing in my armor? Are you Army?”
“Nope,” said the suit. “I’m the Driver. Maybe St. George told you about me?”
He said he’s from the Mount.
“The Mount? How’d he get here?”
“Well, y’see, I switched into the helicopter while we were loading the suit up yesterday morning. Then I managed to—”
He’s been babbling a lot. The wraith tilted his head at the armor then back to Danielle. You want him out?
“Hey, whoa,” said the titan. The metal fingers came up, spread wide. “Same team, bro. Same team!”
“I wouldn’t complain about it,” she said. “Then we need to figure out how to get me in—”
“Guys, seriously,” said the titan, “you don’t want to do anything rash, because—”
Check this out, said Zzzap. He pushed his palm forward. There was a crackle of static, a flash of light, and Cesar flew out of the back of the suit. He hit the wall of the lab building and collapsed to the dirt. Cerberus froze up like a statue.
“Whoa!” shouted Danielle. “How the hell did you do that?”
Something I’d been playing with. Opposite charges attract, like charges repel. So all I needed to do was match his frequency and—
“No, I mean how did you throw him out of the suit?”
Oh, said Zzzap. I thought we were on the same page. He wasn’t wearing the suit, he was in it, like a virus or static buildup or something.
She looked at the groggy youth. “So you’ve been inside the suit all this time?” Her brow furrowed. “You were in the suit while I was wearing it?”
“Look,” said Cesar, “this is a little weird for all of us, yeah, but—”
“On your knees,” bellowed the armored titan. It stomped into an offensive posture and raised its fists. Arcs of electricity raced across its knuckles as the stunners fired up. “On your knees now and put your hands behind your heads!”
“Yeah, tried to tell you,” Cesar muttered from the ground. “There’s another guy in there.”
*
They’d halted the dead at the front gate. And no one else had died. That was the best Sergeant Stewart could say.
Once St. George tied the gate shut with the signpost, they’d been able to get the exes under control. Ammunition was too low to get the upper hand, though. All the soldiers could do was break even, dropping the exes at about the same rate they were reaching the fence line.
Plus the gate was coming apart. Little by little. Under Legion’s command, the exes threw their massed weight right at the gap of St. George’s knot and the simple gate hinges were squeaking again and again. Once he even caught a few of the dead men and women clawing at one of the lower hinges. They were trying to pry apart the riveted metal.
When they noticed him staring, they’d all winked at him and leered.
Then Staff Sergeant Pierce had shown up with a squad of the Unbreakables to take control, and Stewart breathed a faint sigh of relief. If nothing else, the twin mantles of leadership and responsibility were lessened a bit.
The suppressive fire halted while the super-soldiers reinforced the gate with the sandbags from the machine gun pits. They tossed the fifty pound bags the way regular men would throw a beer to one another, even Pierce with his forearm in a splint. The bags piled up against the gate and held it steady. Withered arms clawed at them.
Then the gunfire began again and Pierce’s men added their own weapons to the noise. The Bravos cut exes apart with short, vicious bursts. Bodies were falling faster than they were arriving.