Reckoners 01 - Steelheart

sword in one hand, and his other hand sent out near-invisible blasts that reduced metal and kevlar to nothing. Dust streamed off soldiers who got too close to him, making them slip and stumble, suddenly unbalanced as helmets melted around their heads and body armor fell away.
    Blood flew in front of high-powered flashlights, and men collapsed. It had been mere heartbeats since Prof had dropped into the room, but a good dozen of the soldiers were down.
    The armored units had drawn their shoulder-mounted energy cannons, but Prof had gotten too close. He hit a patch of steel dust at a sprint, then slid in a crouch forward, moving on the dust with obvious familiarity. He twisted to the side and swung his forearm,
smashing
through the armored unit’s leg. Powder sprayed out the back as Prof’s arm passed completely through it.
    He slid to a stop, still on one knee. The armor collapsed with a resounding
thud
as Prof leaped forward and drilled his fist through the second armor’s leg. He pulled his hand out and the leg bent, then snapped, the unit collapsing sideways. It fired a yellow-blue blast into the ground as it fell, melting a portion of the floor.
    One foolhardy member of Enforcement tried to charge Prof, who stood over the fallen armors. Prof didn’t bother with the sword. He dodged to the side, then slammed his fist forward. I could see the fist approach the soldier’s face, could see the helmet’s visor vaporizing just in front of Prof’s punch.
    The soldier dropped. The hallway grew silent. Sparkling steel flakes floated in beams of light like snow at midnight.
    “I,” Prof said in a powerful, self-assured voice, “am known as Limelight. Let your master know that I am
more
than aggravated by being forced to bother myself with you worms. Unfortunately, my minions are fools, and are incapable of following the simplest of orders.
    “Tell your master that the time for dancing and playing is through. If he does not come to face me himself, I will dismantle this city piece by piece until I find him.” Prof strode past the remaining soldiers without sparing them a glance.
    He walked toward me, his back to the soldiers. I grew tense, waiting for them to try something. But they didn’t. They cowered. Men did not fight Epics. They had been taught this, had it drilled into them.
    Prof reached me, face shrouded in shadows, light shining from behind.
    “That was
genius
,” I said softly.
    “Get the girl.”
    “I can’t believe that you—”
    Prof looked at me, and I finally caught sight of his features. Jaw clenched, eyes seeming to blaze with intensity. There was
contempt
in those eyes, and the sight of it caused me to stumble back in shock.
    Prof seemed to be shaking, his hands forming fists, as if he were holding back something terrible. “Get. The. Girl.”
    I nodded dumbly, stuffing my gun back in my pocket and picking up Megan.
    “Jon?” Tia’s voice came from his mobile; mine was still on silent. “Jon, the soldiers have pulled out from my position. What’s going on?”
    Prof didn’t reply. He waved a tensored hand and the ground before us melted away. The dust drained, like sand in an hourglass, revealing an improvised tunnel to the lower levels below.
    I followed him through the tunnel, and we made our escape.

PART FOUR

31
    “ABRAHAM , more blood,” Tia said, working with a frantic urgency. Abraham—his arm in a sling, which was stained red with his own blood—hastened to the cooler.
    Megan lay on the steel conference table in the main room of our hideout. Stacks of paper and some of Abraham’s tools lay on the floor where I’d swept them. Now I sat to the side, feeling helpless, exhausted, and terrified. Prof had burrowed us a path into the hideout from the back; the front entrance had been sealed by Tia using some metal plugs and a special type of incendiary grenade.
    I didn’t understand much of what Tia was doing as she worked on Megan. It involved bandages and attempts to stitch wounds. Apparently Megan had internal injuries. Tia found those even more distressing than the huge amounts of blood Megan had lost.
    I could see Megan’s face. It was turned toward me, angel’s eyesclosed softly. Tia had cut free most of Megan’s clothing, revealing the extent of her wounds. Horrible wounds.
    It seemed strange that her face was so serene. But I felt like I understood. I felt numb myself.
    One step after another …
I’d carried her back to the hideout. That time was a blur, a blur