Three miles from the freeway the group finally caught sight of Cal's headlights out on the flats. The night was dark despite Urbis' lights dominating the northern horizon, and eerie desert noises surrounded them. They had heard following footsteps on more than one occasion, and caught stealthy movements just beyond the beams of their flashlights. It was a welcome sight when Cal's truck finally ground to a dusty halt in front of them.
"Situation?" Ramses asked Cal as he climbed in, foregoing any banter. They were all breathing harshly from the dry desert air. The grating noise of dirt and rocks under the tires filtered through the floor as Cal turned the truck around and headed back towards Urbis.
"Emergency personnel are at the crash site, and some news choppers. Police haven't started combing the desert yet, so we should be able to make a clean break. The highway was clear of traffic, apparently, so nobody saw what happened."
Ramses replied with a hopeful nod. "Good. We may just be able to slip out of this mess unnoticed." He thought for a moment as if he had forgotten something, then pulled out his cell phone to make a call.
"Don't bother!" Cal smiled. "I already called the hotel. They figured there was an assassination attempt on Mr King and he had to leave the city. Didn't even need to explain it to them." Ramses and Saul breathed a visible sigh of relief; at least one part of Saul's exit had gone over smoothly.
Cal's brow furrowed, however, as he continued. "There's something else going on that I think you should know about."
---
High atop the shadowy roof of a four-story apartment complex two hundred yards from the fight crouched Martin Tanner, a pair of night-vision binoculars pressed to his face and an assault rifle resting by his right arm. The rooftop was quiet and dark; the only sound other than the distant noise of traffic was the faint murmur of a tv set in the apartment below him. He moved slightly, adjusting his left elbow to a more comfortable position against the brickwork.
His distance from the action made details a little hard to determine, though the gist of what was going on was very clear. He watched the three supers closely. The black haired spook wearing a dress suite and wielding boulders? No. The punk rock kid with a guitar and a wild brown mane? Not likely. The blonde with an aggression problem bending gravity to his will?
Bingo.
Martin breathed deeply and felt his skin crawl a little. This was big. His headset beeped into his ear and he pressed the transmit button, anxious to relay his findings. "Ramses?"
[small]
"Yea. What's happening? Cal said there's a fight going on in the city."[/small]
"Yup. Three supers versus one very big robot who I think you'd recognize."
[small]
"Number two?"[/small]
"Mhmm."
There was silence on the other end for several seconds. [small]
"Alright, we're about ten minutes out. What do you suggest?"[/small]
"An intervention, or these guys are toast. But we should be careful- " Martin paused as he watched 2W rocket off into the night sky. "Scratch that. He just left. They beat him off, looks like. I think we're good here."
A faint noise behind him; the barely audible crunch of roofing gravel under a lightly placed foot; and then the sudden noise of sprinting footsteps! Martin whirled around and ducked, a long white blade slicing just over his head. He drove his shoulder upwards into the assailant and toppled it into the gravel, but suddenly found himself thrown over onto his back! The knife came at him again, and he grabbed the wrist just in time. A black-clad fist smashed into his jaw. He grunted and kneed his attacker in the stomach, then pushed it off of him and rolled to his feet.
Martin's eyes went to his assault rifle leaning against the parapet, but he didn't have time to reach it. The mysterious enemy was coming at him again! He grabbed the man's knife arm and threw a punch at his head, but his fist was blocked. A powerful leg took one foot out from under him and he fell, the knife slicing into his left shoulder.
[small]
"Martin! What the hell is going on?!"[/small]
The knife came straight down at his head again and he jerked out of the way; it narrowly scraped past his cheek and embedded in the gravel! He grabbed the man's shoulders and head-butted him, then scrambled out from under him and drew his pistol. A foot came swinging up and knocked the firearm from his hand as he fired. Seeing his chance Martin slammed his fist into his opponent's head and pushed him over, then sprinted for his assault rifle only yards away.
A sharp pain suddenly sprouted from his back, and he cried out, nearly falling. He grabbed hold of his rifle in one hand and spun around, spraying the rooftop with bullets. The dark figure lurched and toppled as it was struck, retreating across the roof in a loping, erratic stride. Then it was gone, over the other side of the building.
Martin fell to his knees and cringed in pain. Blood leaked from his shoulder and the cut on his cheek, and his back felt like it was on fire. He carefully reached his arm around and felt something sharp and metallic.
[small]
"Martin! Martin, what's wrong? What happened?!"[/small]
"Attacked by someone. I'm... wounded. Gonna need some stitches I think." He fell forward onto his hands and winced; one of his fingers looked broken. "Gonna need some assistance."
[small]
"Damnit. Alright, we're on our way."[/small]
