After dropping off Michael’s new reinforcements near the staging point, Ryan gunned Wolfenstein 2 towards their next destination. With everything going on tonight, it was unlikely anyone would be out trying to enforce whatever remained of the law… and there were no mercenaries left in the city to fear.

As the police station began to fade in the rearview mirror behind them, Lucas breathed out a slow sigh of relief. “That went better than I’d expected.” The wolfman said, stretching out now that it was just him, Ryan, and Smith left in Wolfenstein’s reinforced and roomy interior.

“Expected trouble?” Ryan asked. “The party hasn’t even gotten started yet.”

Lucas somehow managed to shrug in his seat. “Given how most of our plans go, I expected something to have gone wrong or blown up by now.”

Ryan laughed and Smith chipped in, leaning his arms on the front seats. “I’d say something encouraging, but the last time we were together the car blew up.” Unsurprisingly, the mostly-invincible man wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.

Of course, neither was Ryan. Lucas was strapped in - though whether that was because he was just used to it or because he didn’t want to go through the windshield of a monster truck was hard to say.

“I heard about that.” Lucas said, turning to look at Smith. “I’m curious. You agreed to our little revolution pretty quick for a former officer, considering where we’re going.”

Smith waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I’ve been revolting for weeks. And that tiny-pickled prick has had this coming.”

The two men locked eyes and Lucas’s expression softened, as did his tone. “What’d he take from you?”

“Let’s just say I didn’t leave the force on the best of terms.”

There was a moment of silence before Lucas spoke up, the vehicle’s occupants bucking with the vehicle as Ryan drove over an abandoned prius. “I’m surprised he gave you a choice. I’d heard the police were all in lockstep with him. That or--”

“--Or killed.” Smith finished for him, his eyes unfocusing as he stared at something in the distance. “Not many of us made it to option three. Most who did took their families and either hid or ran.”

Lucas’s face twitched into a half-wince as he realized he may have taken the painful topic a bit too far. There was another moment of silence, this time somewhat awkward.

Before it could go on too long however, the wolfman decided to just barrel forward. “I hate to ask this, but seeing as you were one of the few who made it to… ‘option three’... Did Marcus’ power not work on you?”

Ryan had to admit, he was curious about that answer as well. He’d expected Smith to be silent for a while longer, but the former officer didn’t hesitate, nor did his voice waiver.

“Nobody really knew what was going on when Marcus took over. Any time he showed up, it was always in force. Dozens with him, if not more. By the time I met him, half the force was already rallied behind the douche. So…” Smith shrugged. “I pretended I’d drunk the douche-kool aid and slipped out the back.”

Ryan’s mouth upturned into a half-smile at the colorful description, then pulled up Smith’s power again to read its description. It felt like it’d been ages since he read it, and it may hold a clue here.

Superpower:

Physical Invulnerability: Grants complete invulnerability to physical harm. Damage that would be taken is taken instead from energy capacity reserves. Invulnerability ends when energy runs out. Only damage below that of energy capacity can be prevented.

Given the fact that ‘physical’ harm was specifically called out in Smith’s power, and how the mayor’s targeted the mind, Ryan figured he had their answer.

“I don’t think you’re safe from him, man. Your power prevents physical damage… But I don’t think it’ll protect you from stuff that messes with your mind.” Ryan said, shaking his head. “Marcus has a few of those on hand, and I’m pretty sure that’s how his own power works so… I wouldn’t bet on it.” Ryan said.

“Good to know.” Smith said, before giving Ryan the side-eye. “But... that’s not why you asked me along, was it? You haven’t said what part of this whole thing you need me for - noticed you left that out earlier. Am I charging in with tall, dark, and fuzzy over here?” Smith patted the wolfman on the shoulder, in case who he meant wasn’t obvious.

Ryan had kept their own part of tonight’s plans out when briefing the freed officers. Not that their change of heart hadn’t seemed genuine, it had just seemed… unwise to freely hand out parts of the plan they weren’t going to be involved in.

If their new allies were somehow recaptured or interrogated tonight, only Michael’s plan would be affected. And at that point it was either already well-known or had gone horribly wrong.

Which was how most of their plans tonight would go, actually. Realizing he’d gotten off track - both mentally and literally - the editor swerved back onto the street from the curb and answered Smith’s question.

“Marcus has a bodyguard whose uh… we’ll call him a ‘big hitter’. Name is ‘Percy’ or something... I’ve been calling him ‘Meatfist’.” Ryan began, then realized how ridiculous the name sounded and added. “Trust me, it fits.”

“I like him already.” Smith said.

“He can split into two clones of himself, is stronger than any other super I’ve seen, and his body makes him almost as impervious to harm as you are.”

The car was silent for a moment. “I like him a little less.” Smith finally said. Lucas, who already knew the man’s powers and had no plans to go up against him, smirked in the front seat.

“Oh, and if you don’t get both clones, he can just pop out another one.” Ryan added, swerving Wolfenstein around what appeared to be an entire corner of a nearby store’s roof just laying in the middle of the road. He noticed Lucas’s smirk had faltered a bit at that.

“Uh-huh… lemme guess, you need me to keep him busy while you two go after Marcus.” Smith said, following the obvious logic of Ryan freeing him first.

“Actually… I need you to help me deal with him while Lucas takes out whoever else is in our way. You and I are the only two I know that Meatfist can’t just turn into, well, meat, in a single hit. He was turning bricks into powder with his bare hands the last time we fought.”

“I’m sorry, you said turning bricks into what now? ‘Powder’? How are you still alive?”

“I’ve had a few--” Ryan began before Lucas cut him off.

“Upgrades.” Finished the big wolf in his best matrix impression, which was only partially ruined by the exaggerated air quotes he added to the word.

“Yeah. What he said.” Ryan said.

“Uh-huh… care to share with the class?” Smith asked. “Just so I know before we go in not to worry when someone tries to ‘meat’ you.”

There was a round of chuckling in the car that helped dispel the last of the earlier somber atmosphere. Ryan broke down the other opponents they might face as well as the new powers he had given both Lucas and himself since the last time Smith had seen him.

When he was finished Smith whistled long and low in an appreciative fashion, like a construction worker might. One about to get slapped by his HR rep. “So… if you’ve got all that, why do you even need me? Is it because there’s two of them?”

“Would you be hurt if it was because I need another punching bag?” Ryan asked.

“Mildly.” Smith admitted. “Though it does help that you are one of those punching bags.”

“How about if I needed a distraction?” Ryan countered.

“That’s much easier on the ego.” Smith said, leaning forward to add in a reassuring fashion. “Women tell me I am very distracting.”

“Pretty sure ‘Meatfist’ is a man.” Lucas pointed out.

“It’s a whole new world out there, Lucas.” Ryan countered with fake sincerity. “Maybe that doesn’t matter to Percy.”

“Wait… How exactly did he earn that nickname in the first place?” Smith asked, feigning deep concern. “By ‘brick’ did you mean he--”

The trio kept up a lively back-and-forth for the next fifteen or so minutes as they drove through town to the destination Michael had given Ryan an actual map to. The mayor’s base of operations. A place Ryan would never have thought to look if Michael hadn’t pointed them towards it... And then sworn he wasn’t kidding.

Arborville Public Library.

Ryan pulled Wolfenstein into an abandoned gas station’s parking lot a block away from their destination. He killed the engine, activated his power, and flicked the only big red switch on the dash. The vehicle began to rumble as gears changed and shifted. Smith stared at him, cocked an eyebrow, then looked meaningfully at the library down the road.

“What?” Ryan asked.

Smith slowly rolled his head towards the library and gestured first towards Wolfenstein’s interior, then motioned both hands together, smashing them as if the truck could drive right over it.

“To be fair, driving vehicles into buildings is kind of your thing.” Lucas pointed out, then added for Smith’s benefit. “It’s literally how we met.”

“Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining.” Ryan protested, as he checked to make sure he had everything he needed for the attack. His newly remade briefcase was nestled under the seat, holding his ‘surprise’ for the mayor. The editor grabbed it and put a hand on the door handle before turning to his companions once more. “Besides, you love my plans.”

Lucas laughed and turned to exit the vehicle - which had continued to make metallic grinding sounds that were starting to get louder. Ryan followed, leaving Smith looking around the vehicle’s interior, which was starting to shrink. The mostly-invincible man hurriedly hopped out as well.

“Am I missing something?” Smith asked as the trio began backing quickly away from the shifting metal of the monster truck. “Was that not our ride in?”

“Michael’s plans showed a basement level.” Ryan said with a grin as if that one sentence was a full explanation.

Smith began to speak, then stopped. The officer looked at Lucas for more but the big wolf just gave a small smile and shook his head, unwilling to spoil the surprise. Smith gave in and looked back at Ryan. “... and?” He asked, drawing out the word.

Ryan held up a hand for patience in a gesture that said: “Just... give it a second”.

It took only a few moments for Wolfenstein 2 to finish its transformation, revealing a massive cannon. Four large clamps replaced the vehicle’s wheels, gripping deep into the concrete of the parking lot like a giant might a wooden table. The driver’s seat, now fully exposed outside the structure, was the only part that had been preserved. It was attached in such a way that made the cannon look like the whole thing could swivel freely.

It was also almost the size of the gas station itself, with a barrel that a grown man could dive down, arms spread, and not touch the sides. Comically oversized cannonballs lay on a small loading track to one side. They weren’t exceptionally smooth, but there was little doubt they’d get the job done. Whatever that job was.

Smith whistled, Lucas gave an appreciative golf clap, and Ryan took an exaggerated bow at the final form of his newest creation. Then the editor tossed the keys to Lucas, patted his large wolf friend on the shoulder, and nodded down the street at Smith so he would follow. Before they parted, Ryan and Lucas both set a timer on their watches.

The wolfman walked up and hopped easily into the cannon’s seat, turning the ignition. Immediately, the cannon’s base lifted up as it powered. The front end of it lowered slightly, then the whole thing began to move in response to Lucas’s control.

While the wolfman got familiar with the controls and lined up his shot, Ryan began sprinting away from the library. He circled wide around the block in an arc that would take them back to the rear of the library. Smith hesitated for just a second as if to say something more, then shrugged and sprinted after the editor.

When the pair turned the first corner, Smith couldn’t help himself. He jerked a thumb behind them at Lucas and the cannon. “So… Basement level, huh?”

“Think we should have knocked?” Ryan asked.

“Not particularly…” Smith answered in between breaths. A few paces later he asked. “Civilians?”

Ryan answered readily, not at all bothered by their pace. “Shouldn’t be any. According to Kurt, this is where he spends most of his time. It’s also supposedly where he goes whenever shit goes south.”

“Then why aren’t there… any guards? You just parked a… cannon out front. You don’t think someone’ll notice?”

Ryan waited until they’d reached the last building before answering. As they turned towards the library, the pair stopped running. Ryan checked his watch, then looked back up at Smith. “Doubt it.” The editor pointed off in the distance away from the library, where an enormous gorilla could be seen tearing a building literally in half like a scene straight out of a popular video game.

“Kurt’s keeping them busy.” He added, with a smile.

“I thought Michael was… keeping them busy.” Smith said, leaning up against the wall to catch his breath. “He was… after the station… wasn’t he?”

“Michael’s job was to distract the cops, not take them out. Kurt’s job is to distract everyone else. And according to our one-turned-many mutual friend, squad cars are ‘easier to ambush when I know where they’re going’.” Ryan added air quotes for that last part, doing his best impression of Michael’s serious voice.

Smith raised an eyebrow, but nodded at that. Then he bent over and let out a long breath, putting one hand on his knee for support.

“You alright, man?” Ryan asked. They may have run quickly, but it hadn’t been very far. He needed Smith ready to fight here soon, not winded.

“Yeah, just… haven’t moved in a few days. Lil stiff.” Smith said, shaking himself and starting to stretch. “Just gotta limmmmber up a bit”

Oh… Right. Ryan thought, mentally admonishing himself. He’d taken care of Smith’s sleep deprivation and fatigue earlier, so the sight of the man panting had worried him. But there’s a difference between feeling fine and being fine, I suppose.

Wanting to make use of the time, Ryan pulled a ‘Meat’n’Beets’ protein strip from a pocket and tore into it. The few terrible bites of the thing made him wonder who in their right mind had decided on that as a product name. And even worse, who had let this thing through quality testing?

Face blanched at the taste but determined to continue, the editor soldiered through two more bars until his energy was back at full. Wolfenstein’s transformation had been a feat easier accomplished in two parts, as it had let him save points at the cost of being more intimidating than capable.

Now that they were here however, the editor had no doubt he’d need all the energy he could get.

Pulling a fourth bar out Ryan offered it to Smith. His friend accepted it eagerly… until he saw the flavor. The two men shared a glance, Smith’s face accusatory - even a little betrayed. Ryan held up his hands. “Look, blame Michael. He’s the one who grabbed these.”

Smith shook his head and muttered something about clones being able to just forget tastes before shoving the whole bar into his mouth. Through a mouthful of brown - and for some reason, bright blue - chunks, Smith asked. “How muff time we goth leff?”

Ryan checked his watch again just as a deafening boom sounded from the direction of the cannon. There was a pregnant pause in the air… before the even louder sound of stone and glass exploding into shards echoed down the street. Shattered pieces of building material went flying everywhere, a few even taking out other windows.

Smith stood up, ready to move, but Ryan just held up three fingers. Then he dropped one and looked back in the direction of the cannon. Smith nodded, and the pair waited in the sudden stillness that always seemed to fill the air before a fight.

Another shot rang out, this time followed by the sound of a collapse as Lucas apparently took out enough of the library’s supporting walls to partially cave it in. Scattered shouts of alarm came from a few directions around the neighborhood, but they were quickly drowned out by the final shot.

With a reverberating BOOM that sounded like it’d torn the cannon itself apart, the shot landed.

From where they stood, Arborville’s library seemed to shudder on impact like it was made of poorly put together legos. Then the building collapsed entirely in on itself.

Tapping his friend’s chest, Ryan locked eyes with Smith. In a deadly serious voice that had lost all of the joviality from earlier, he said. “Time to go.”

Then the editor turned, and sprinted towards the mayor’s last refuge like a hound on a trail.