CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Brave New World, Part 2

The new arrival who bounced into the air to avoid the banshee’s death wail wore a skintight spandex suit that was mostly tan-colored but with white gloves and boots to match.

“Find the bus...it’ll lead you to the rabbit,” Sam repeated Farsight’s instructions to him before he got off the Argo VII earlier. “Hey, master, you don’t think...?”

If the mask fits, Chiron replied dryly.

The hero’s tan mask covered his entire head much as a ski mask did. Apart from the bunny-like ears popping out of its sides, the mask’s only other design was two large plastic lenses with slightly reflective surfaces.

“Do we know who he is?”

Give me a second to check my sources.

Sam watched this new hero bounce around in the air to land a jackknife kick right between the banshee’s eyes, causing the horror’s upper body to bend back like a taut bow.

“Nice one,” Sam said, nodding appreciatively at this display of martial skill.

And he wasn’t the only one to do so. A cheer rose from the spectators after a well-timed dropkick to its chest caused the banshee to topple backward.

Intel says this guy’s called Jackboot, Chiron reported.

The banshee whipped back onto its feet like a cobra lunging forward for the kill, but all it got was a push kick to the face that drove its head back down onto the asphalt.

“Guy’s all over the place,” Sam noted.

One, two, three, four—Jackboot unleashed a flurry of kicks that knocked the horror left and right, keeping it unbalanced and unable to launch a counter of its own.

Sam quickly realized that Jackboot’s kicks weren’t just fast either as each one of those lightning-quick blows had been accompanied by a sound akin to a thunderclap. When he mentioned this to Chiron, his master replied with, Yeah, he kicks as strong as you punch, kid.

“How would you know that?” Sam asked.

I hacked the Wardens’ hero database for his file, Chiron answered in such a casual way that it almost sounded to Sam like he wasn’t at all bothered with admitting he’d just committed a felony. It says Jackboot’s got the proportional strength, speed, and keen senses of a hare.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Proportional strength of a hare...sounds like he’s got more power than that.”

Don’t underestimate them. Hares may be known for being cute and cuddly, but they’re mean customers in a fight, kid.

As if to prove Chiron’s point, Jackboot hopped up into the air and performed a flip that would send him high enough to dive feet-first to crash his heel down on top of the banshee’s head just like a hammer on a nail.

“That was a K.O. blow for sure,” Sam said as he clapped along with the rest of the crowd.

Why the hell are you acting like a spectator? Chiron asked, annoyed. Get in there already!

Sam, who’d stepped back to give Jackboot and his dance partner some space, said, “It doesn’t feel like I’m needed. Besides, I already did my part with the bus.”

Truthfully, Sam was just glad he didn’t have to fight another banshee. He didn’t want to get emotional in front of so many people, which was likely to happen considering his past trauma with his mother’s tragic circumstance.

Soon enough, the banshee was already on the ground and unmoving while Jackboot stood over it in triumph.

“As I said,” although Jackboot’s voice was slightly muffled by his mask, his non-American accent was pretty distinct, “I’m here to save the day!”

He waved at his audience, and they waved back.

Look at that...a hero with charisma, Chiron chuckled. Guess you two aren’t so alike after all.

“Aw, shut it—”

Sam’s eyes widened.

It was unfortunate that Jackboot had turned his back on the horror or he would have seen the banshee raise its head in his direction. Then it opened its mouth so widely that its jaw came unhinged, and that’s when a spectator yelled, “Look out!”

The banshee’s death wail had just begun when Jackboot turned around to receive its full blast. Luckily for this hare-themed hero, Sam arrived at his side just in time. He raised his free arm forward to cast, “Bulwark!” to shield them both from the horror’s bone-shattering shriek of death.

“Styx!” Sam cursed. “I can’t…hold it!”

Even with Bulwark’s help, Sam couldn’t fully suppress the sonic blast at point-blank range. He and Jackboot were blown back, both of them toppling over each other and rolling on the asphalt like pins at a bowling alley.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned.

“Yow...” Jackboot added.

Normally, sonic attacks of gamma-level or higher had the potential to leave someone stunned, but [Regeneration (ζ)] managed to nip that debilitating effect in the bud.

Get up, kid! You’ve got banshee incoming! Chiron warned.

Sam scampered to his feet at the same time as Jackboot did.

“Thanks for the save,” he said.

Sam’s replied with, “Duck!”

They both ducked just in time to dodge the long-fingered swipes meant to pierce their necks. Then they both pulled away from each other as the horror stepped menacingly into the space between them.

Sam could hear that intake of breath that heralded the beginnings of another death wail, which was currently aimed at him.

“Sorry, but”—Sam tightened the grip on his new hammer—“no one wants an encore!”

Alert! Wielding [Onus, the Load Bearer] provides you with the following temporary bonuses based on your current burden’s value: Strength +4, Will +1

Sam couldn’t help but grin at how right this hammer felt in his hand. It’s almost like I was always meant to have it.

As he swung it right at the Banshee’s face—while reactivating “Herculean!” for good measure—Sam recalled the moment days ago when Warden Bethany, aka War Maiden, had appeared outside his front door to bequeath to him the weapon of his dreams.

It was the morning Sam, Thunder, and Farsight planned to leave New York City. Sam had opened his front door, a duffel bag over his shoulder, and found Bethany waiting just beyond the threshold.

“Sorry,” she said awkwardly. “I was just about to knock.”

“Um,” Sam’s brow creased, “how can I help you, Warden?”

Bethany didn’t look like she was about to arrest him for his alleged vigilante activities. At least, that’s not what the worry in her face conveyed.

“I’m not here in an official capacity,” she admitted.

He thought it was something like that. After all, she wasn’t wearing her gray suit and fedora uniform. Instead, Bethany was rocking a fit sweater, skinny jeans, and a bonnet over her head almost like she was attempting to be incognito.

“Um,” Sam glanced over at the metal case in her hand, “what have you got there.”

A grin formed on Bethany’s face.

“I could ask you the same question.” She nodded toward Sam’s duffel bag. “Going on a trip?”

Sam returned her grin.

“Yeah,” he scratched his head, “with all the crazy happening in the city, I figured it was time for a change in scenery...”

Bethany offered Sam the case. “Then you’ll need this.”

“What’s—”

“I hear Herculean broke his hammer in that fight with the Trickster a week ago,” she said, her eyebrow arching slightly to match her smile.

“I don’t know what—”

“Again, I’m not here in an official capacity.” She patted him gingerly on the shoulder. “And I’m not as averse to vigilantes like my superiors are... I judge people on their actions, and I can tell when someone just wants to help.”

This wasn’t the first time Sam had felt this way, this feeling that someone in authority was willing to pin their hopes on him. To trust him to be better than even he thought he could be. Officer Nolan had been the first, and now it looked like he had one of the Wardens in his corner, too.

“Enjoy this.” Bethany patted the top of her steel case. “It’s not a burden I can carry anymore...but a hero with super strength might manage.”

Burden’s certainly an interesting word choice, Sam thought, and he was suddenly excited to open the case.

“There’s something else,” Bethany’s brow creased. Her smile vanished, too. “It’s something you should know...we don’t believe the Trickster was working alone.”

That was his master’s working theory as well, although Chiron had found out little about whoever these helpers were.

Get as much info as you can from her, kid, Chiron suggested.

When Sam did what the master asked, he noticed how Bethany’s entire demeanor seemed to change. She’d become more guarded, her eyes darting left and then right, almost like she was worried that someone might overhear them.

“All I have is a name.” As if for added effect, Bethany took an extra-long moment before revealing to Sam what the name of this shadow organization was. “They’re called Chimera...”

“Chimera,” Sam repeated.

No sooner had the word escaped his lips when Sam felt the beginnings of a shudder overwhelm him, one he couldn’t repress despite his growth as a hero.

“Styx,” he gulped.

Sam understood this reaction well for it was almost like instinct or a sixth sense was telling him that whoever or whatever Chimera was, one thing was certain—they were bad news.