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Suddenly Memories: Baraxis
By Dac
The pair of them nestled in the corner of the hollowed out wreck. Even a month after the bombing, the old civic centre still reeked of smoke. The entire east complex had been levelled, little more than a pile of rubble now, and god knows what had been in there when it had gone down. Baraxis shivered at the thought of people trapped under there. Spartan kept a wary eye on the open air above them.
“We can’t stay here,” he said. “Above ground ain’t safe. We need to get below.”
“I know,” replied Baraxis. “I just figured, we were heading this way anyway. The underground around here is a hotspot. It’s easier to avoid the tunnels in the centre of town. They’re less likely to spot us out here.”
Spartan continued to glance around cautiously, not reassured at all. “Open air is open air,” he said. “They’re bound to be around here.”
“They’re everywhere, above and below,” said Baraxis bitterly. “Hard to care any more.”
“Whatever,” his friend responded dismissively. “Just get your breath. I want to get out of here.”
He had a point. Since the bombing of the city, aboveground had become the most dangerous place to be. It didn’t matter if they were in the centre of town or near the outskirts, anywhere not sheltered by, at the very least, a thick roof was a deathtrap. Standing beneath where the glass dome had once been was tempting fate.
The pair of them crept up the stairs, keeping to the shadows. At least during the day the patrols were a bit more lax. The Leader’s forces always upped their efforts aboveground after the sun set, apparently figuring no rebels, heroes or other undesirable types would be stupid enough to move around in broad daylight. For the most part they were right, so when Baraxis and Spartan found their usual hidden route through the abandoned subway cut off by a gang of them going exploring, they decided, fuck it. What did they really have to lose?
Keeping a sharp eye on the sky above them, the two former Rogues flitted from shadow to shadow, slowly creeping up a flight of stairs half-hidden by an overhanging piece of concrete. At the top they kept close to what was left of the wall and crawled through a small hole, emerging into what had once been a grand ballroom. They looked around in awe. Several gigantic paintings lay in tatters all around the room. There was shattered glass and crags of broken concrete lying everywhere. A huge crevice, like a miniature earthquake, ran along the floor. The skeletal remains of an arm poked out of it, as though a decomposed body was frozen in the act of dragging itself out. Baraxis blanched at the sight of it. Spartan looked around in morbid fascination.
“They really didn’t pull any punches, did they?” he said in awe. “Look at this place.”
“I’ve seen it,” mumbled Baraxis. “You know I sneaked in here once?”
Spartan looked sidelong at him. “When?”
“A few months ago. There was some benefit or something, I can’t even remember. I posed as a waiter to get through the door, changed into a suit I found in Qwirtle’s stuff, and just hung out here for a few hours. Say what you will about those gigs, but holy shit, dude, they knew how to make good food.”
“Don’t bring up the food,” said Spartan hastily. “I’ll be hungry for weeks if you talk about it.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s OK.”
They looked around again, studying the damage done to the once-regal room. Hesitantly, Baraxis walked out to the middle of the room, where the skeletal arm hung from the crevice. Tentatively, he reached out with his foot and pushed it into the fissure, breathing a sigh of relief when it was no longer in view. Spartan waved over at him.
“Come on, we better get back. Tack’ll be worried about us.”
“Coming.”
Baraxis jogged over to the doorway where Spartan was heading, and they crossed the causeway to the other side of the building. Carefully they navigated their way down a splintered staircase, gingerly stepping over pieces of rubble. They were nearly at the bottom when Baraxis slipped and stumbled. Spartan caught his arm swiftly, stopping him from falling.
“Thanks,” Baraxis said absently.
“Shouldn’t you, you know, use your power to stop shit like that happening?”
“Dude, I’m still a bit shaky with my power. I tried to reduce the gravity around a can of beer the other day and bring it over to me, I ended up crushing the damn thing. Unless I focus really well, I might fuck things up.”
“Oh.” Spartan wore a morose expression. “What a waste of a beer.”
“I know, right?”
They continued down the stairs, and reached the landing at the bottom. Baraxis wiped the sweat off his brow and was about to complain about the heat, when suddenly Spartan froze. Baraxis followed his gaze back up the stairs they’d just descended, and jumped with shock.
Two hero hunters stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at them. By the looks of things, they were just as astonished to see Baraxis and Spartan as the heroes were to see them.
For a split second no one moved. After that all four panicked.
Baraxis seized Spartan by the arm and sprinted for the doorway they had been going for, which led to the cellar back into the subway. The hunters cried out in fury and began sprinting down the staircase. Spartan furiously ripped himself free from Baraxis’s grasp.
“There’s only two!” he snapped. “Come on, we can take them!”
“They will have radioed for backup by now!” yelled Baraxis in return. “Do you really want to deal with the whole patrol? Let’s lose them in the tunnels!”
With that he sprang nimbly away. Spartan spat in anger and raced after him as the two hero hunters continued to dart down the stairs. Baraxis ripped the door open and dashed down the stairwell, but as Spartan reached the door he heard a cry of dismay.
“It’s blocked!” yelled Baraxis. “Quick, back up! Let’s find another way!”
“How is it blocked?” growled Spartan as they ran through the wrecked concrete. “We used it two weeks ago, it was fine then!”
“It must have been those explosions we’ve been hearing the last few days,” replied Baraxis furiously. “Bastards have been cutting off escape routes, trying to limit our access ways.”
They sprinted until their sides were on fire with pain, but as they rounded a corner heading for the nearest subway station, about a block through the hole in the northern wall they’d scrambled through, Spartan’s foot caught a loose piece of concrete and he fell with a cry of pain. Baraxis spun and tried to drag his friend to his feet when they heard a shout.
“Hold it!”
They looked up. The two hero hunters stood watching them at the corner, both of their weapons drawn. They stood unmoving, watching the two heroes. Spartan glanced at Baraxis.
“Crush ‘em,” he hissed. “Come on! Now!”
“We’ll bring the patrol down on us,” Baraxis whispered back.
“Who gives a fuck when these two are standing right fucking there, with their fucking guns drawn!” cried Spartan.
One of the hunters fired a warning shot. It clipped the piece of concrete Spartan had tripped on and ricocheted off the wall. The hunter advanced a few paces, slowly.
“OK, you two,” he said, sounding vaguely pleased with himself. “Make this nice and easy and everything’s gonna be fine.”
“What the fuck, are you supposed to be a cop or something?” snarled Spartan.
“I used to be,” admitted the hunter without a shred of irony in his voice. “Same basic gig, bringing in dangerous types. Now stay calm. We don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh please,” snapped Baraxis. “The last hero hunters we met said the same thing right after stabbing our friend in the leg. Go find a fire and die in it.”
“All right, fine, we’ll do it the hard way,” sneered the hunter. “I get paid either way. See what I care.”
“Patrol’s on its way,” said his friend. “They’ll be about AAUGH!”
The first hunter turned in confusion. Baraxis and Spartan forgot where they were and stared in shock.
The hunter had been stabbed through the chest from behind. A five-foot blade protruded from his body, and as they watched he was lifted into the air and tossed idly aside. As the heroes stared numbly, another man stepped into view. The blade was attached to his right arm, held on by a vambrace that covered between his elbow and wrist while leaving his hand exposed. On his left arm was an identical casing sporting a similar blade. Covering the higher sections of his forearms, his chest, waist and neck was what looked like crude steel armour made from rubble. There were even steel pauldrons covering his shoulders and cuisses protecting his thighs. The man looked like a psychotic Predator fan in a homemade costume.
The hero hunter regained his composure first and raised his firearm, but the bladed man dashed forward and swung his blade. The hunter’s head bounced across the ground until it rolled to the other side of the street. Baraxis fought the urge to vomit. Spartan simply stared in mute shock.
The man looked over at them. For a moment he regarded them contemptuously, and then his face split into an ugly, terrifying grin and he strode towards them.
“Well well well,” he said. “Mr Gravity Man himself. I wondered if I’d ever find you.”
Baraxis blinked. “Do I know you?”
The man paused in his stride and his brow furrowed. “Shut up,” he hissed. “No talking from you.”
Spartan snapped out of shock as the man began to walk forward again. He pulled himself to his feet, backed away in fear and turned to Baraxis.
“B, I am asking you for the third and final time to please for the love of god crush the motherfucker!”
No further coercion was needed. Baraxis raised his hand above his head thrust it downwards within an instant, but as soon as he moved the man tapped a button on his right vambrace. There was the oddest sound of water being sucked into a pipe.
“Oh please,” he sneered. “Do you really think I didn’t come prepared?”
There was a loud bang as something invisible threw Baraxis off his feet. He sailed through the air and landed heavily in a clear patch, rolling twice before coming to a halt. Spartan sprinted over to him.
“Shit! Are you OK?”
Baraxis looked blearily up at him. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. “...why did I explode?”
Spartan turned to the man, still walking calmly towards them, bragging the whole while. “Some of the best tech money can buy in this toilet. What, did you think you were the only ones hiding out in the ruins? There’s a few people scattered here and there. One of them got me some prototype hero hunter gear. Like it? Takes all that fancy as shit energy you guys use and sends it right back at you. Suck it, you fuckers!”
The man broke into a dead run. With Baraxis struggling to stand, Spartan grabbed him and swung him over his shoulder. He noticed his friend’s nose was bleeding, and ran instead for the nearest opening he could spot: a hole in the wall of a nearby school. He leapt through and ran for the nearest door, slamming it shut behind him. To his relief there was a key still in the lock. He wrenched it all the way around and snapped it off behind him. There came a furious pounding on the classroom door as the bladed man tried to get through. Hoisting Baraxis back up, Spartan moved swiftly down the corridor, checking for anywhere they could hold up and catch the man off guard. He toyed with the idea of going back for the hero hunter’s weapon when he heard Baraxis give a weak laugh.
“What?”
“Look.”
Spartan turned and looked at the door Baraxis was indicating.
“We could totally sneak into the girl’s locker room,” wheezed Baraxis. Spartan arched his eyebrow in apprehension when the door he had locked exploded inwards. He heard the man laughing up the corridor. Instantly he ripped the door open and dashed inside. He set Baraxis down and slapped him on the face lightly.
“OK, wake up now,” he said. “Sleepy time is postponed until we’re not running for our fucking lives from a walking can opener.”
Baraxis shook his head to clear it.
“Sorry,” he said. “That thing did a number on me.”
“Can you fight?”
“Dude, my head feels like an elephant just kicked it open and took a shit in it. I’ll be lucky if I can run.”
He stood up and took a shaky step. Spartan handed him a wrench and duplicated himself.
“OK. When he comes through the door, I’ll grab him, you lay into him with that.”
Baraxis looked at the object in his hand, blinked, and looked back at Spartan with a questioning look in his eyes.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” protested the dupe. “What am I gonna do, spawn myself fifty times and hope he suffocates under us all? No thanks! If you can’t hit him with the gravity we’re gonna have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
“Fine,” sighed Baraxis. Spartan nodded, and he and his dupe flanked the door. Baraxis held the wrench ready. They stood and waited silently. Outside in the corridor, the man’s footsteps drew closer as he kicked open every door and moved on to the next one. A few seconds later, the door of the locker room crashed open and the man stormed through. The two Spartans dived at him, catching him off guard, while Baraxis moved in for the kill. As he did, the man shook off both Spartans, stronger than they had anticipated. The man shouldercharged Baraxis, knocking him backwards, and he spun on the spot, staring at the two identical Spartans circling him. For a moment, he looked confused, then he chuckled.
“Oh, I see,” he said. “Sorry, pal. Energy’s all the same to me.”
He pressed another button on his wristpad, and both Spartans were lifted off their feet, slamming together and merging like two clumps of Play-Doh being forced together. The single Spartan crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The man moved towards him when Baraxis dove into him from behind, knocking the man backwards. As he did he heard a sharp crack, and a tiny column of smoke spiralled from the man’s wristpad.
“Damn it!” snarled the man as he fell forward, faceplanting into the wall. Baraxis grabbed the prone form of his friend and lifted him onto his shoulder, ducking through the door and running down the corridor. He heard an angry cry behind him, but it mostly wasn’t directed at him.
“Fucking power dampener! Best schematic, my ass! Get back here, you sons of bitches!”
Baraxis thrust himself through another door, emerging into the cafeteria. There was giant hole in the wall next to him into the kitchen, which he stuffed them both into, dragging Spartan behind him.
“What the hell do you want with me?” he yelled back, out of a mix of irritation and fear. “What the fuck did I ever do to you?”
“Did I say you could talk?” came the furious response. The man seemed almost hysterical with rage. “No questions! No answers! Just a mysterious psychotic force of nature that explodes into your life without rhyme or reason, gonna take away everything you’ve got! Isn’t that how you fucking heroes work, interfering in the lives of the lowly common people?”
Baraxis’s blood began to boil. “Look, you’ve got some personal issues and ordinarily I’d want to help, but when your solution to your problem is to load yourself up like the bastard lovechild of Iron Man and Moon Knight and kill everything in sight, I lose a little fucking sympathy!”
“Oh, you fucking hypocrite,” growled the voice, so filled with venomous hatred. Baraxis could tell he was in the cafeteria. He’d probably reached the small tunnel they’d just crawled through. He looked around frantically. He was in what seemed to be a maintenance storeroom, with various odds and ends. Unfortunately the door was locked, and the only way out was back through the tunnel. He still didn’t feel strong enough to try and use his power, so he cast his eyes about, looking for something he could use.
He seized a small gas can and poured it at the mouth of the tunnel, then dug through Spartan’s pockets.
“Come on, come on, where the fuck do you...ah hah!”
Seizing the cigarette lighter, he set the mouth of the hole on fire. He heard a dismayed cry from within, and grinned as he seized a fire extinguisher and swung it at the door with all the strength he could muster. Again. Again. Again. The door didn’t budge.
“Oh, fuck this,” he muttered, and raised his hand.
The doorway collapsed, crushed under a small surge of additional gravity. Baraxis reeled, feeling light-headed.
“Oh shit...bad idea...fuck it...”
Grabbing his friend and slinging him over his shoulder again, he staggered out into the corridor and moved as quickly as he could down it, away from the cafeteria. Just as he neared the end, he heard the door behind him slam open and sprinting footsteps racing up behind it.
“Shit!”
He dropped to the ground. One of the man’s absurdly long blades slashed the air where he’d been standing seconds earlier. On the ground, he swung a wild kick and noted with some satisfaction the ugly noise it made when it connected with the man’s knee. With a yelp the man dropped and all but fell on him. One of the blades raked Baraxis’s arm, purely by accident. The cut was not deep, but the line of pain flared up anyway. Wincing, Baraxis pulled the cigarette lighter, lit it and jammed it into the man’s ear. The man roared in pain and Baraxis drove his knee into him, lifting him off. Baraxis shot to his feet, seized Spartan and staggered away. The man dragged himself to his feet and hobbled after them. Baraxis barged through the next door he saw and slammed it, finding himself in a common room with the roof ripped off. He spotted a small office and ducked through the doorway. There was no door to close, but Baraxis was too exhausted to care. He slipped under the desk just as Spartan gave a small moan. Baraxis clamped his hand over his mouth and they waited under the desk. Baraxis screwed his eyes shut, hoping the man would simply pass them by.
The telltale thud of the door being booted open echoed around the empty space. The man’s ragged breathing seemed unnaturally loud. Baraxis counted the footsteps as he heard them. One. Two. Three. A brief pause as he checked something. Four. Five. Six. Seven. There was a quiet curse.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are...”
Baraxis steeled himself, preparing for one last gravity surge. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven.
From under the desk in the corner, Baraxis saw the man’s boots appear in the doorway. Twelve. He stepped in. Thirteen. Another. Fourteen. His feet were level as he stood there, apparently surveying the tiny office. Baraxis felt like he was sweating blood, with one hand ready for a gravity attack, the other still over Spartan’s mouth as his eyes groggily came open.
Fifteen. He was moving further into the office. Baraxis’s eyes widened.
“HEY, YOU!”
The boots spun around. There came the sound of many boots landing heavily. Five more pairs of feet appeared in the doorway. One sprang into the room. There was the loud thud of a fist being driven into a face and the man dropped to the ground. His eyes, wide with pain, spun and spotted Baraxis staring right back at him. The brown eyes were icy with rage and hatred. Before the man could do a thing, the feet in the doorway surged into the room and all started kicking the man as savagely as he could. One of the newcomers ran around the front specifically to boot the man in the face. The man screamed incoherently with pain and fury as several men kicked him relentlessly. As Baraxis watched, stunned, a hand appeared and seized the man by the scruff of his neck, throwing him back out the doorway. Then all the newcomers began talking furiously, and Baraxis realised who they were.
“Think you’re tough, smart guy?”
“Those were our friends you killed!”
“Haven’t you learned? No one fucks with us!”
“Want some more? Here, have some fucking more!”
“YOU HEAR ME? NO ONE!”
It was the most savage beating Baraxis could have imagined, with more ferocity than he’d ever seen from the hero hunters. The sound of fists and feet being driven into the man seemed to go on forever. He heard the man’s crude armour being ripped from his body and tossed idly away, giving them even more targets all over his body. There were endless cracking noises as innumerable bones were broken. Abruptly he heard another pair of footsteps join the party, and a loud voice rang out.
“Hold it!”
Baraxis’s blood went cold. He knew that voice.
“Guardsman Brodie!” said one of the hero hunters, sounding a bit awed. “Sergeant Wilcox, sir.”
“I don’t care,” said the newcomer. “Would someone explain what the fuck is going on here?”
“Sir, we were out on patrol when we received a transmission from two of our members,” explained another hunter. “They’d cornered a pair of fugitives and were about to bring them in. That was the last we heard. When we got to their location, both of them were dead. Killed by this bastard.”
There was a pause as Brodie surveyed the broken man, lying gurgling on the floor, unable to speak through a broken jaw and a pulpy face. His head lay in the doorway, his cold eyes fixed on Baraxis, still blazing with hatred. Baraxis couldn’t tell which the man was angrier about: that he had cornered his prey and was denied the kill, or that the hunters had inadvertently prevented him from pointing out where the heroes where. If he wasn’t exhausted, wracked with pain and mere feet from several deadly enemies, Baraxis might have laughed.
“Was this one of the fugitives they mentioned?” asked Brodie.
“We don’t know, sir, but he was by himself in here and we couldn’t find any other body.”
“Hmm.”
Brodie paused again. Baraxis screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the hammer to drop.
“Wait a second, is that what he had?”
“That stuff? Yeah, that’s his weaponry and armour, sir.”
“Boys, look at the tech. Does that look familiar to you?”
There was a slight pause.
“That’s...that’s hero hunter issue.”
“Damn right it is,” growled Brodie. “Look at it. Energy redirector, power dampener, radar jammer...all in shit condition, but all our issue. Most of it’s busted.”
Brodie’s hand fished the vambrace off the ground.
“Now look, boys. Someone’s going to have to explain what the hell happened here, and you can bet your ass it ain’t gonna be me. This guy has your tech. How he got your tech is a question the powers that be are gonna want answered. You’ve already beat him to the point that he’s not going to answer any fucking questions for the next two months without drooling, so instead of beating him even more, I suggest you get yourselves out there and find out how the fuck he got a hold of it. That clear?”
“What about him?” asked one of the hunters.
Baraxis flinched at the sound of a gunshot. Opening his eyes, he saw the man lying still, his eyes glazed over. There was a single hole in his head already beginning to spill blood.
“What about him?” growled Brodie.
Without a word, the hero hunters picked up the body and ran out. Baraxis watched their boots vanish, and after he heard Brodie’s unmistakable footsteps receding into the distance, he heaved sigh of relief. He took his hand away from Spartan’s mouth. His friend looked at him, his eyes droopy but open.
“Hell of a day,” he said. Baraxis nodded. The pair of them sat there, huddled beneath the desk, for nearly an hour, breathing slowly and recovering. Eventually Spartan turned to Baraxis with a querying look on his face.
“So who the hell was that guy? What did he want?”
Baraxis moved out from underneath the desk, stretched and winced as dull pain lanced through his cut.
“I have no fucking idea,” he said. “And I don’t fucking care any more. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Spartan nodded wearily and stood up. Cautiously, they slipped out of the school and headed straight for the nearest tunnel, welcoming the safety of being underground.
7/1/2011 6:44:07 PM
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