Sasha’s expression darkened. “You’re going to chime with him in saying that I am beyond stupid?”
“That’s not how he said that, you know? But yes, the guy you’re up against is no joke. I have seen that type before. They have dozens upon dozens of men available to them. Truck loads of money. And they have a lot of powerful friends in high places. Sasha, I am not sure how to phrase this best, but there is a reason why most of us aren’t fighting crime all alone. Because more often than not, one of us just isn’t going to cut it, having superpowers or not.”
Sasha sighed. “Trust me - I think after having been dragged half-dead out of that holding cell, I have realized that by now.”
Firebird extended a hand towards Sasha and smiled at her. “So how about a little friendly backup for your troubles?”
The white haired girl stared long at Firebird. And at the opened hand she held out to her. Then she smiled and took Firebird’s hand, shaking it. “Deal,” she said.
Sasha would be no longer fighting alone.
And hidden behind a hedge, but well inside earshot of the two women, Tom Clarkson smiled.
April 28th, 2011
Roger Brooks smiled as he admired the completed work. “It’s awesome,” he said to his engineer, who was gleaming at him in pride. “It was really expensive, but the result is amazing!”
“Thank you, sir,” the engineer said. “We managed to squeeze everything into it you wanted to have, and the total weight is still less than 500 pounds. It comes with twin machine guns, six rocket propelled grenade launchers, can easily withstand bullets and grenades, and is still very manoeuvrable. And it has all the other tricks you requested, regarding being able to deal with this...person.”
“I really think it needs a field test,” Roger said, unable to take his gaze away from his newest toy. The black suit of powered armour had cost him a fortune, but when looking at the shining marvel of technology, Roger didn’t regret one single dime he had spent for it.
May 5th, 2011
Tom Clarkson waved to his daughter, who had been deeply sunken into a book in their living room. “I am going to get your mother from the airport, honey. It shouldn’t take too long,” he said to Sasha.
“Sure thing, dad!” Sasha cheerfully said, briefly looking up from her book to raise one of her hands to wave her dad goodbye. “Heather is going to come over for a cup of coffee soon. I hope that’s ok?”
Tom raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Heather?”
“Heather is Firebird, dad. You know...Firebird isn’t her real name,” Sasha said and winked at her father.
“Oh...right. Have fun then, you two!” Tom said and closed the door behind him, silently relieved that his daughter seemed to pick up some resemblance of a social life again.
***
Sasha listened interestedly as Firebird recounted countless stories from her work fighting dangerous super-powered villains as a member of a high-profile group of superheroes. Despite being a metahuman herself, Sasha found the stories almost to be unreal, as if they had originated from a Hollywood movie instead of real life. Sasha didn’t have any idea about how life tended to be for other metahumans, and was fascinated by it.
Sasha poured the blonde heroine another coffee and pushed a plate of self-made coconut cake in front of Firebird, but otherwise took great care not to interrupt the narrating girl.
Firebird absently devoured the cake while she kept on recounting stories to a smiling Sasha, all the while the radio was playing Sasha favourite classic rock music station in the background.
Then suddenly Firebird stopped speaking, and both heads turned to the radio in unison, as the speaker announced a breaking news broadcast.
Sasha’s face went pale as she learned that Vancouver International Airport had been taken over by gangsters, who demanded a hundred and fifty million dollars in exchange for releasing their hostages.
***
Sasha stared into Firebird’s eyes, covering her mouth with one hand. “My parents...they’re at the airport,” she whispered.
Then the white-haired girl’s expression hardened as she jumped up from the table and marched to the door.
Firebird tilted her head. “What are you doing, Sasha?”
“What does it look like? I am going to the airport of course. I have to help them.”
Firebird propelled herself out of her chair and rushed to Sasha, placing a hand on her shoulder. “What happened to us being a team?” she said.
Sasha turned around to gaze at Firebird’s face and stared into her eyes for a long moment. Then she smiled and nodded. Without another word, Sasha opened the door, and both women rushed out of the house and launched themselves into the air. The residential homes below them were soon reduced to a blur as Firebird and Sasha were soaring over the rooftops towards the airport at jet fighter speed.
***
Leaving behind the last homes of Vancouver’s southern suburb of Richmond, the two women shot into the airspace over Sea Island. Located in the Fraser River delta, right at the ocean, the home of Vancouver’s international airport had less than 1,000 permanent residents, since most of the large island was taken by the giant airport itself and a large environmental reserve.
Thundering over the runway at low altitude, Sasha and Firebird were not in any danger of crossing into the path of any plane, as all air traffic going in or out had been halted due to the situation on the ground. Firebird signalled to Sasha – and despite they had never worked together before, Sasha instinctively read what Firebird had in mind. With a nod, Sasha veered to the right, mirrored by a similar move by Firebird into the opposite direction.
Within a minute Sasha left Sea Island behind her and reached one of the Fraser River’s many arms, where she turned left and shot over the water, skimming over the waves by just a few inches. She followed the river until she reached the open ocean and went into wide arc to the left, while gaining altitude. With a smile she spotted the faint dot against the horizon, telling her that Firebird had circumvented the airport to the other side of the island.
Arcing downwards again, Sasha gained considerable speed as she approached the airfield side of the terminal buildings. She scanned the vast rooftop – and after a short moment she spotted what she was looking for: The sentry post was not very well concealed, or didn’t even try to be. The pair of men was idly standing on the roof, holding binoculars and a machine gun each. Sasha smiled when she noticed that the two gangsters weren’t looking in her direction at all, but had their eyes fixed towards the city instead - from where they obviously expected an attack rather than from the ocean side. Which of course was the entire reason Sasha and Firebird had chose the sea-side as their angle of attack in the first place.
Her eyes narrowing, Sasha sped towards the unsuspecting pair, drawing on her power as she approached them with blinding speed. In the last moment, one of the men turned around. Sasha could see him desperately fumbling for his weapon. But it was too late. Sasha released the spell and a crackling pair of lightning bolts seared through the air and stuck both men in the chest. Sasha watched their bodies sailing through the air, but she had soared past them before they even hit the ground. They would be knocked out for long enough.
The sound of a small explosion to her right told Sasha that Firebird had found a target of her own.
Sasha went into a sudden steep ascent that slowed down her forward flight and waited for Firebird to approach her.
Flying in close formation they soared toward the air traffic control tower.
As Firebird started to descent towards the tower’s ground level entrance, Sasha shook her head and motioned her companion to follow her instead.
“I don’t think we can disable those guys from the outside, no?” Firebird said when Sasha floated upwards, towards the tower top.
Sasha smiled as they approached the windowed upper section of the tower. “Perhaps we can.”
Floating steadily next to the tower, the white-haired girl carefully peeked insi
de the control room through the thick glass window. One gangster was standing next to the instrument consoles, fixing his eyes towards the city side through a pair of binoculars. The air traffic controllers were nowhere to be seen. Sasha assumed they had been escorted out to be held together with the other hostages.
Drawing a double-take of surprise from Firebird, Sasha reached towards the window with her hand, and knocked against the glass.
The gangster whirled around, dropping the binoculars in shocked surprise.
Sasha reached out with her magic, while she lifted her hand to point at the gangster. Her mind locked on his body, in the same instant as the man reached for his weapon.
And Sasha instructed her magic to pull hard.
Propelled by an unseen telekinetic force, the gangster sailed through the air and towards Sasha. With a sickening thud he crashed into the reinforced window from the inside, just a few inches away from Sasha. She apologetically shrugged at him, as the man slowly slid down against the window and collapsed on the floor.
The blonde heroine nodded at her, trying to maintain some professionalism through the moment of surprise. “I didn’t know you could...huh. I don’t see any more lookouts...that should be it,” she said.
“Time to storm the fortress then,” Sasha said.
“I'm not familiar with this airport. Are there any obvious places where the hostages might be held? Food court, baggage claim...?” Firebird asked with her head tilted to the terminals below.
Sasha shrugged. “It’s an awfully big airport. And I am still new to this ‘think like a criminal’ business. Until today, this was just a place to get into planes for me, you know?”
Firebird peeked back up with a veteran's grin. “Don’t worry. We'll just improvise a little. You start with the international terminal, and I'll check out domestic in the meantime?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
The two women separated, each heading to another end of the airport, which happened to be the second largest in Canada. Sasha was wondering how two people were supposed to search the gargantuan complex in just one lifetime.
***
Keeping her head low, Sasha snuck through the rows of cars in the otherwise deserted short term parkade, making her way towards the international terminal building’s ground level access. She had decided to walk the remaining distance instead of flying, in order to avoid her being spotted from the inside. The short term parkade was located right in front of the terminal building and would conceal her approach well enough. She would need to cross only one access road in order to reach the terminal building from here, so chances that she would be spotted from one of the building’s many windows would be small.
Taking her time to make sure no more sentries were posted outside the building, Sasha rushed across the street after she was satisfied that nobody was watching this particular approach, and took a side entrance into the building. She had used it often enough in the past. The automatic door would take her into the end section of the arrival level waiting area, just across from the baggage services counter. This particular area came with the advantage that it was closed off by walls at three sides, so she wouldn’t accidently end up being surrounded by gangsters and their guns from all angles at once.
Drawing in a final deep breath and trying to ignore her pounding heart to the best of her ability, Sasha stepped through the door. A part of Sasha had imagined that the next thing to happen would be guns being pointed at her and bullets fired in her direction. But nothing of that sort happened.
With great surprise Sasha realized that she was the only living being in the waiting area at all.
Sasha had been in this building countless times, but she would have never imagined that an airport terminal could be that quiet. No antlike crowd scurrying back and forth through the halls, pushing bags stacked five feet high on trolleys too small for that sort of load. No bored people waiting in the semi-comfortable plastic chairs for their loved ones to finally clear the immigration and customs procedures, staring at their watches every ten seconds. No long lines at the fast food restaurants and coffee shops. No sternly looking security guards eternally scanning the crowd for any possible or imaginary trouble with their radar eyes.
Just silence.
Sasha took the first step into the building and immediately thought her shoes caused the equivalent of a thunderclap on the tiled floor when her foot touched the ground. She flinched and cursed herself for not exchanging her pumps for a pair of rubber-soled sports shoes - or something else producing less noise.
As catlike as she possibly could with her less than ideal footwear, Sasha snuck through the waiting hall with slow, measured steps, scanning the building for possible threats as she advanced towards the main arrivals lobby.
The main reception area was just as deserted as the rest of the arrivals level. Where usually hundreds of people were expectantly staring at the automatic one-way gate, that normally spilled out hundreds upon hundreds of newly arrived travellers per hour, not one living soul was to be seen anywhere now. Sasha did notice dozen of abandoned bags scattered all over the place, though. She guessed them to be the belongings of the unlucky people who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time and thus became Roger’s hostages.
Sasha let her eyes wander around, thinking about where all the people might be now. Something didn’t feel quite right, but she couldn’t place it. Her gaze fell on the large double escalator leading to the building’s upper floor, which was housing the departure area. There was no hint of anything out of the ordinary on the ground floor, other than the abandoned luggage. Sasha thought about whether she should rather check out the public areas of the departure level, or force her way into the customs and immigration section instead – but to do that she would have to break through the one-way gates from this side. Sasha would easily be able to smash through the gates, but she would also be alerting everyone in the building by doing that.
She decided to try the upper level first before she would have to create a level of noise that would be impossible to overhear in the dead-silent building.
Sasha ascended the still operating escalators, keeping her eyes scanning the upper level as it gradually entered her field of vision. It seemed to be just as quiet and deserted as the arrival area.
But as Sasha stepped from the escalator she noticed the huge statue-like figure that she really couldn’t remember being a part of the airport furniture.
And only then she recognized that it wasn’t a statue at all.
It was a person wearing a full-body suit of powered combat armour.
“Hello Sasha,” a robotic voice said from inside the helmet.
And Sasha’s blood froze as she recognized the electronic voice as belonging to Roger Brooks.
***
“Do you like my new toy?” Roger said, performing what looked like a mock curtsey to Sasha.
Sasha could barely hide a gasp as she stared at the metal apparition towering in the centre of the shopping rotunda, blocking off the way to the security checkpoints separating the airline check-in counters from the departure gates.
The pitch black steel armour made Roger even taller than he already was. He towered at least a head over Sasha’s six feet now, and appeared to be three times as wide. From head to toe, every single bit of skin was covered under inch-thick layered metal plating and technical components that allowed its operator to actually move in the heavy suit. The helmet enclosed the entire head, but instead of eye slits it featured two camera pieces, that were menacingly glowing at Sasha in a deep red colour.
“Impressive, is it not?” Roger taunted.
“Where are my parents, Roger?” Sasha demanded, as she was staring daggers at her ex-husband.
“Ah, they are safe and sound, as are my other guests. For now, that is. And by the way, I kept only a few of them anyway. I couldn’t possibly take everyone hostage who was running around in this airport when we arrived. The rest of them I sent running towards the city. Don’t wor
ry about them. They should be appearing at the police perimeter around Sea Island very soon.”
Sasha’s eyes gazed coldly at Roger from thin slits. “You will set them free. All of them. Right now. Or I swear I will make you regret it,” she snarled.
Roger chuckled. “Did I hear that right and this is really a threat? Sasha...Sasha, I am surprised. When did you grow an actual backbone?”
“I won’t say it another time, Roger. Release them!”
“Release them!” Roger aped Sasha’s voice, wiggling his metal-encased head in mockery. “Release them...or what? Sasha, my dear, do you really think you can win against me? You do remember that I almost killed you the last time you tried coming for me, yes? You are still every bit as naive as you always were. Do you think this suit of armour is for looks or what? It does more than just protect me. Let me show you its best feature: The guns!”
Roger lifted his steel-encased arm to point into Sasha’s direction. With a metallic snap, a cover panel on his underarm piece flipped open, revealing the barrel of a nasty looking gatling machine gun.
A second later the silence in the airport was ended by the hammering staccato of a steady stream of gunfire, as the gatling gun started spitting bullets at Sasha at a rate of 3,000 shots per minute.
Sasha brought up her arm and drew on her magic. A shimmering globe of energy appeared around Sasha just in time to be in the way of the bullets heading for her. The globe repeatedly flickered and crackled as the rounds hit the force field in rapid succession, only inches away from Sasha’s skin. But instead of tearing into the woman apart, the bullets were deflected left and right by the impenetrable force field, shattering into windows and decorations instead.
The steady onslaught of the bullets against her protective shield still shook Sasha’s body, as the force field wasn’t able to completely absorb the kinetic energy of the projectiles. As she was slowly staggering back under the rapid onslaught of the projectiles, Sasha drew on her magic once more. From the fingertips of her extended right hand, a bolt of searing lightning shot out and struck Roger’s armour dead centre in the chest. Sparks were flying wide from the point of impact and small electric arcs danced back and forth on his armour as the jolt of high-voltage power discharged on the steel plates.