Ultimate Ex Machina #8: The Ides of March pt. 3

[jackalope]

Ultimate Ex Machina
#8: The Ides of March pt. 3

March


The once Great Machine feels the hatred pumping through his veins. With the wind ripping past him at a furious speed, he can feel the cold slick line where blood is trailing from the cut under his eye. Time seems distorted, he knows barely minutes have passed since he took to the sky, but he feels as if he's been flying for eons. Ahead he sees him, the enemy that kept coming back. Pherson. Hundred's tunnel vision is a barrel of a gun aim at the cloaked figure sitting on the rooftop. The fact Pherson is just sitting there only makes it worse, as if he hadn't just killed dozens in the city, his city. Mitchell clenches his teeth so hard it hurts. Both fists out ahead of him, the static from the electricity-field generator crackles around him. Only 20 feet from him, a mere second away, he can see his rival, sitting, drinking coffee, and smiling smugly.

CRACK

Mitchell can barely think. The gears turn in his mind as tries to process why he was skidding across the concrete roof. Hitting the short raised wall, he rolls over. He tries to breath but can't. Pain suddenly sweeps his chest. Finally he opens his mouth and sucks in a gulp of air, cringing at the hurt it causes him. Looking up, he sees why. A huge gorilla in a large grey track suit stands, holding a 12 foot log of wood, broken at the end. From behind the ape, two large tigers walk out on either side.

“Hello my friend,” says Pherson, emerging to the gorilla's left. “I see you found the place fine.”

Mitchell tries to push himself up, but can't. Broken ribs, he guesses. Still looking at the four figures, he reaches to his chest to touch the zap-gizmo. It's not talking to him, smashed along with his chest? He releases another sharp breath, scowling at his nemesis.

The tigers cross paths a few feet from him.

“Did you like my homage’s? Kujo... Jaws. Then the great Hitchcockian classic, the Birds.” Jack takes a sip of coffee from the mug he holds. “Ow.” He blows on it, “Hot.”

Mitchell coughs and tastes blood in his mouth. The electricity generator sparks. He hears it, barely. A dying whisper: HURT

“Don't look so angry,” Pherson says with a concerned smile. He opens his arms out, “This was all for you.”

Hundred feels another surge of anger. Fists clench. His jetpack kicks into gear, lifting him on to his feet. One of the tigers leaps for him. In a sudden swift twist, it grabs his arm, huge incisors clenching it tightly. He knows the Tiger's jaw could snap it in a second. Hundred can feel the power of the predator’s bite, and the sense of unnatural restraint the creature was showing in not tearing him to pieces. Instead the tiger stares at him with shining purple feline eyes. Hot breath shoots out over him. It smells of iron and the faint touch of something rotting. A slight rumble of a growl vibrates in the cat's throat.

“How about,” Jack says with an overly reasonable tone, “instead of you attempting to attack me, thus forcing Sherekhan here to, well... eat you, you sit down here, I pour you a cup of coffee and we talk?” Pherson points to the two chairs placed either side of a small table, set up with cups, a flask and even a table cloth. “There are even cookies.”

As he looks down at the tiger holding his arm, to his right he sees the other tiger slowly approaching his crotch. Hundred raises his eyes to his nemesis and replies through clenched teeth. “Let's.”

* * *

The city is hauntingly quiet. Most people look out through cracked windows, trying to gauge whether the event is over or it is merely the eye of the hurricane. The few people outside wander with cautious steps, eyes ever skywards, checking for any avian attackers. The faint whine of tripped car alarms echo in the distance. The streets are littered with smashed glass and bodies.

Gun drawn, Detective Turpin races through the streets, trying to ignore the burning pain of stitch growing in his chest. Huffing, he moves his large frame around a couple of crashed cars. Somewhere behind him he's lost his hat and even though he knows that given the situation it was low on the list of priorities he is still annoyed. He likes that hat.

Behind him his rookie keeps pace. “Where are we headed?”

Turpin can only point. In the distance the Queen Hotel stands, a moving cloud of tiny silhouettes hang above it. The redheaded rookie nods and pulls at the radio on his belt, telling base where they are going. The older detective takes a few seconds, leaning on his knees. He coughs, spitting on the concrete in front of him “Oh god, I need a cigarette...” The statement seems directed to no one in particular.

“You know how stupid you look?”

Turpin turns to his partner, narrowing his eyes. The kid looks annoyed but also slightly wary about what he has just said. “Shut up.” Dan smiles, impressed at the rookie finally giving him some shit. He might actually make it as a detective. Turpin stands back up straight. “Come on.”

For two blocks, they run. Turpin can't help but count nine bodies that they pass. On one of them, an American eagle stands on the chest, wings raised slightly, it pulls at flesh from a corpse's neck. He wonders whether there is some of metaphor in play there. He shakes the image from his head as they approach the ground floor of the Queen hotel.

The giant automatic glass doors reveal an abandoned bottom level. As the detectives walk through, they look about. The lobby is silent except for Turpin's heavy breathing as he catches his breath. The younger detective moves to the counter and hits the bell. “Hello?” he calls, “we need assistance evacuating the building.” He hits the bell again, “Hello?” He raises his hand again.

“Stop!” Turpin whispers harshly. Hand still raised, the younger detective turns. Turpin nods to the outside. Through the large windows that surrounded the bottom lobby a wave of rats, cats and dogs were approaching the building. The animals were silent, but gazed towards them with heads lifted. The unlikely herd stops outside the glass.

The detectives share a glance with one another and then turn back to the animals. They suddenly dash to the elevator and start hitting the button.

The electric hotel door starts to open, just as the elevator door does the same. Turpin relieved smiles fades as he turns towards an elevator occupied by a coiled serpent.

The animals start to flood through the hotel doorway.

“THE STAIRS!” Turpin shouts, gun drawn.

* * *

“Black, no sugar.” Jack says in a sing song voice as he pours. “I bet you wonder how I know that.”

With a tiger on either side of him Hundred just clenches his jaw. His eyes glance around. To his right the gorilla stands about a dozen feet from him, guarding the rooftop entrance. Above him a cloud of birds, made up of multiple species, fly above him. Keeping the air support away he guesses. His jetpack and zap-cube sat in the far corner of the roof, far enough that it would be hard for his voice to carry, especially above the chirping.

“We have so much to talk about,” Jack says dunking his cookie in his coffee. “Do you remember where we first met?”

Mitchell raises an eyebrow, trying to recall. Was it the STAR Labs animal testing office or the zoo? It must have been around a year before the whole Brainiac event. He turned up half a dozen times, 'a recurring villain', Kremlin had called him, but most harmless. Mostly freeing animals from captivity – animal rights type stuff. Then it changed. The last time an entire office building had been attacked by a swarm of killer bees. Only two people had survived. The Great Machine had turned up too late. Mitchell hadn't forgiven himself for the incident and had sworn vengeance. Then the Brainiac 'event' had happened and Pherson seemed to drop off the map. Now he was back, and yet again, Hundred felt like he had turned up too late.

“Give up?” Jack asks with a grin. “I'll give you a hint, you're sitting on it.”

Mitchell looks down, then back up at his nemesis. “You were...?”

“I was here during the fire.” Jack looks up, as if remembering, “I was here during the Great Machine's first flight.” He looks back down at the stunned Mayor. “I saw you that night, saw you save that woman. You were... the most amazing thing I'd ever seen.” Jack looks at his coffee. “I did all this... I had to talk to you, had to show you...” he trails off, closing his mouth, looking somewhat melancholy. “We have to talk. About why you have your gift, what it's for, where it comes from. We're connected, you see. That's why I can... I am the Shepherd. The Shepherd calls and all beasts kneel before him. He gathers his flock to him. First he calls to those who run on four legs on the land, and they follow his commands. Then he calls to those who swim in the ocean, and they follow his commands. Then he calls to those whose wings carry them in the air, and they follow his commands. Do you see? I am one of the three, so are you.”

Lifting his eyes again he smiles. “Sorry, I'm rambling. You must have questions for me.”

Mitchell licks his dry lips. “I suppose the main question I have is...” He looks about once more, fists clenched. “...when did you go so fucking insane? Who the fuck are you?! I mean we're sitting having fucking coffee and there's a fucking gorilla in a sweat suit standing over there. What the fuck do you think we have to talk about?! You want a question, why don't you get the fuck out of my city!?”

“Mitch...” Jack lifts his hand to calm him. “It's cool if I call you Mitch right? You're too close to this; you're not seeing this clearly.” Pherson looks at the Mayor with concern. “Look, you haven't even touched your coffee.”

Hundred tries to assess whether his nemesis is deliberately trying to wind him up, but something tells him that the man is sincere. He can't figure out whether it makes it better or worse. The pain from his fingernails digging into his palms stops him lunging at the man. That and the two tigers. He takes a deep breath. “Why would I talk with you? You're a killer.”

Pherson sits back with a look of concern. He sips his coffee and sighs. “I didn't want to do this.” He holds his hands out to signal the situation around them. “But I needed to show you that we're the same...”

Hundred looks down at his fist. It's white and shaking. He swings. The punch veers wildly, and Pherson easily dodges. The tiger’s growl, ready to pounce, until they hear the whelp of the gorilla being hit by the jetpack. The ape is knocked off the building. Hundred pulls his fist towards himself and the rocket turns swiftly in the air, circling towards him. A leaping tiger is hit by the jetpack as it blazes towards the Mayor, who jumps, catching the belts around the engine and being dragged to the other end of the roof. Landing on his kneepads, he skids and grabs the cube.

“STOP HIM”

Pherson points at Hundred, annoyance obvious on his face. Hundreds of birds dive towards him, creating a living shadow of moving darkness. He throws the cube at its centre.

“HURT!”

The cube seems to respond with an eager glee. A faintly blue sphere suddenly crackles with lightning. The birds seize, dropping around him. The few furthest away take flight. Mitchell smiles, relieved. Through the falling cloud of birds the tiger pounces. Mitchell brings his arm up to block his head. With it, the jetpack rockets across, hitting the big cat in its shoulder. There is a crack as the feline is knocked away.

Hundred pushes himself up. He can feel the rage driving him. He strides towards Pherson. For his own part, Pherson stands still, hands behind him. A grey parrot lands on his shoulder for a few seconds and then flies away. “Looks like we've got company coming,” Jack says. Looking around at the dead and injured animals he shakes his head. “Last time I invite you out for coff...”

Hundreds fist connects with Pherson's face. Jack touches his nose to find it bleeding. “I'm trying to help y...” Another thud as the Mayor's fist finds another spot on his head. Jack almost stumbles over, but manages to stay standing. “I only want to show you that I was willing to do what was neede....” A third punch sends his nemesis to the ground. The now bruised Jack tries to roll onto his side, but can barely lift his head. His voice is broken, pleading, “Look, I know the truth, about everything. I see it in my dreams, your dreams. I know the truth about b...”

Mitchell's hands are around the man's neck. He squeezes his eyes wide with fury. The world fades around him. In slow motion, he watches the man dying. His heart beat sounds like a train thudding by. Second by seconds, the life drains from him as the man struggles and tries to draw air.

Suddenly he's being dragged off him. Sound returns and he's being shouted at. “...Mayor, did you hear me? It's over.” He turns to see Turpin leaning over him.

He looks back to see Pherson coughing, very much alive.

He can't tell if he feels relief or dread.

*

As the chopper's come and the cops and paramedics fill the building, Hundred only hears Pherson say one thing before he is gagged and taken away.

“Don't worry Mitch, I won’t tell anyone.”

* * *

1 week later


Glenmorgan Square is rarely used for memorial services, this day is different. Mitchell looks out at the area of the usually bustling financial to find it packed with people. From inside the black car the Mayor takes a moment, breathing in deeply, trying to control his heartbeat. A hand touches his and he turns. Suzanne Padilla smiles. “Are you ok?”

“Mostly,” he says truthfully. His wounds had mostly healed, although his ribs were still bruised, the doctors were amazed he hadn't been hurt more. He lets his hand close around hers. She leans forward and kisses her cheek. She wipes the lipstick off with her thumb.

“You saved this city, again,” she says. “It could have been so much worse.”

He barely nods. There's a knock on his window. Journal holds up his speech cards. His sighs. “I guess that's me.” Climbing out from the car, there's an assault of flashes from the edge of the crowd. Bradbury checks the pathway is clear and escorts the Mayor towards the podium set up near the front. The giant billboards that usually played ads 24/7 were now showing him as he approached the stage. The city, or at least this part of it, had recovered well, at least on a construction scale. Most of the damage had been superficial and the windows of the surrounding buildings had mostly been replaced. Quickly flicking through the cards, he sees the list of names he would soon read out. 88 names, surprisingly less than many had predicted, but it had been the trauma of the event that would be long lasting. How could people feel safe in their city after an attack like this?

His eyes stop on one name; Harry O'Donnell. Technically there was nothing that connected the attack directly to the avian attack, but the assumption was that the stress had triggered a heart attack and his pacemaker had failed to react. He felt terrible for hating the guy so much but what was worse was the feeling of relief he got from the fact he would now get the Aether towers bill through the council. It gave him an ill feeling in his stomach, like he was cheating.

On the podium he sees a selection of Councilmen and women, the Bishop of Metropolis Catholic Cathedral, the Senator of Delaware and some other representatives from the government, Commissioner Angotti and the two detectives who had helped him on the roof. Making his way through the group, shaking hands and sharing small messages of strength, he finally reaches the solid Turpin and his red-haired partner.

“I just wanted to thank you both for your service at the end there. You both saved me from doing something very stupid.”

Turpin takes his hand and shakes. “In the circumstances, I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same.”

Mitchell smiles. “Well, good to hear from you both. Detective Turpin,” he nods turning to the other detective, “and...”

“Olsen, Detective Olsen.”

* *

Matty Roth presses answer on his cell.

“Hey.” Walking through the alleyway, he doesn't notice the faint glow moving above him. “Don't worry Zee, I'm five minutes away.” He smiles to himself, “Yes I set the TiVo. Is the Mayor speaking yet?” Behind him two feet touch down. “Okay, look I'll be right there.” He hangs up.

“Mr Roth?”

Matty turns swiftly, surprised. The man that stands behind him is covered in a black costume, with a black helm covering his face and a black jetpack on his back. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Today, I guess you could say I'm a messenger.” The man's voice is modulated slightly but he sounds American, even local perhaps.

Roth's eyes flick down to the man's hand; in it a dangerous looking weapon shines chrome. “What do you want?”

“Right now your place is being stripped, all electronics are being destroyed along with any files you have.” The man tilts his head, watching Matty's reaction. “This is a warning, the only warning you will get. Today I'm a messenger but next time I might be the man that burns your girlfriend, Zee, alive.”

The sound of his girlfriend's name hits him like a boulder. He finds his heart is beating at double speed. “Who...?”

“Your research into the Aether towers project..” Firefly grabs Matty's t-shirt and pulls him close. “Back the fuck off.” Pushing him backwards, the costumed villain takes to the sky, leaving a fiery trail behind him. Matty feels his legs shaking.

* *

“What happened in our city... what's been happening in our city... seems like a nightmare. The families who lost someone, as well as those attacked; deserve justice for the act that was committed against them. An act that I wouldn't hesitate to describe as terrorism. Terror in its purist form. We were attacked in our home, where we feel safest.” Hundred takes another deep breath and looks out. “There is an answer to terrorism, a cure to the violence that aims to make us live in fear.”

“To not be afraid.” The crowd is quiet. He continues in his quiet, managed tone. “It seems like a naive answer, or perhaps an impossible one, but we are all gathered here, together. Not cowering in our homes, or hiding in our basements. We are outside, on this beautiful day in the heart of the big Apricot, here to honour the fallen. But also we are here to show support for one another. And in this unity we find our bravery, our way to overcome fear. We have been attacked, and yet we are here, Metropolis stands and it will take more than a few desperate ploys to...”

As the Mayor disappears from view, people stand silently, unsure as to what has happened.

Inside a bubble of invisibility and silence Mitchell looks down at the arrow in his chest with the two small black boxes attached to it. Blood flowing down him, he collapses.