Ancient Arsenal (Full Metal Superhero Book 7) Read online

  Then she felt it. A sudden spike of anxiety and anticipation from outside.

  “Someone’s here,” she told Nelson. “Get your wife—” it was too late. The house was surrounded. How had they gotten there so fast? Barely five minutes had passed since she first spoke to the Major.

  Kate could slap herself. Of course; they were watching him. Whoever was behind this would have to be watching him. He was the only point of contact she had.

  A grenade shattered the glass, sailing in to bounce off the far wall. Kate was by no means slow, nor was she surprised. In a flash, she teleported to the grenade, snatched it off the ground then teleported to the window, tossing it back out the way it had come.

  There was a shout before the flashbang ignited with a shower of sparks and noise.

  “The house is surrounded,” she said to Nelson. “Get your wife to the bathroom and—”

  The blow that shouldn’t have caught her by surprise, did. Nelson followed it up with a second shot that landed square on the back of her head, dropping her to her knees. Her vision swam. She tried to port, to flee, but something was stopping her.

  “I’m sorry Kate. You and Amelia always seemed a decent sort, but orders are orders.”

  The next blow put her lights out.

  FIVE

  THE PRESENT-TIA

  Former police Sergeant Catia Tichenor waited patiently in the American jail the FBI held her in. The ten by five room with its puke gray walls, bare floor, and metal table bolted to the floor wouldn’t have looked out of place in a police station in her home town, Buenos Aires. For some reason they had felt the need to cuff her to the metal loops on the top of the table. Maybe they hadn’t read her file? But being a former police officer, and a guest in the country, she played along.

  She wore the same outfit they arrested her in; cut-off shorts, a spaghetti strap tank top that stretched down past her waist, and white sandals with a yellow flower over the big toe. Her hair had grown out a little—the golden blonde contrasted with the deep tan of her skin. She took a moment to admire the hair cut she had let Lux talk her into the day before. Strangely, she had developed a kinship with the alien, as if they both didn’t belong.

  The door opened suddenly and two men and a woman marched in. The man in charge held a manila folder, which she knew was most likely empty or full of blank papers. One of the perks of having worked the other side of the desk; she knew all the tricks.

  “Ms. Tichenor, I’m Special Agent Brown with the FBI’s superhuman task force. This is my partner,”—he gestured to the woman— “Sierra Cole. And the US ADA in charge of your case, Markus Freely.” When he finished his introductions, he placed the folder, closed, on the table and sat down opposite Tia. “I’m legally obligated to inform you that as a superhuman in a foreign country there are certain aspects of your rights that are suspended. Also, Agent Cole is an F3 empath; she can tell when you are lying, and she also has superhuman strength. If you attempt to use your powers or we feel you are a danger in any way, we are authorized to use deadly force to defend ourselves if we feel it’s warranted.”

  Tia smirked. She was amused. It wasn’t arrogance, but experience that told her they had no weapon that could hurt her if she so wished. However, she was a good person and certainly not interested in hurting anyone else or breaking the law. So far, their strategy only annoyed and inconvenienced her. She was also worried about her friends—since they had arrested her, she hadn’t seen or heard from Amelia or Kate.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. As a citizen of Argentina, I must inform you that holding me without notifying my consulate is a crime. I assume you have notified them?”

  That put them off balance. At this point most prisoners would be shaking in their boots, ready to confess anything if it meant they could leave. Tia wasn’t most people.

  “Yes. Yes, we have,” Markus Freely said with a frown.

  “Excellent,” she said before they could reassert themselves and control over the conversation. “I assume my lawyer is outside and you are simply introducing yourselves as a courtesy? Please show him in.” She raised one thin eyebrow as if to say, “any time now.”

  It was a bluff, of course. Calculated and based on her own experience as a police officer, but a bluff nonetheless. It was a good bet they hadn’t informed her consulate and it was also a good bet that no lawyer waited for her outside. Normally, Tia abhorred deceit of any kind. It left a bad taste in her mouth. One of the many reasons she wasn’t able to make detective. Not liking it, and not being good at it, were two very different things. When someone lied to her? She felt no desire to remain honest with them. And now she knew; the woman might have powers, but not as an empath. Tia’s claims hadn’t so much as caused an eyebrow to twitch.

  “As you are not under arrest,” Freely continued, “you have no right to a lawyer.”

  “We would like to talk about your association with this woman,” Brown placed two photos from the folder in front of Tia. One was of Amelia in her chair. Tia wasn’t sure when it was taken. It wasn’t a photo that Amelia had known about—more like a stalker photo. Probably taken from a surveillance van. She recognized the when, though; it was the night Kate had taken them all to the fancy Phoenix restaurant

  The other photo was also Amelia, but in her armor. Tia leaned forward, mouth open as she was about to answer then stopped. No... the second photo was not Amelia. It was armor, for sure, designed to look like Arsenal, but it was the armor that was used to murder the Northwest team. The Engineer as the team called him. The man who’d stolen Amelia’s armor and created the team known as the Armory to kill Amelia. The man who ended up killing himself by using Amelia’s tech when he shouldn’t have.

  She looked up, meeting the eyes of the three people in the room with her. Then she smiled. Tia knew her own looks, she was not stupid. Many a man would call her gorgeous. She tried to be humble as God commanded but being humble and knowing one was hot weren’t incompatible. Therefore, she knew that when people looked at her they underestimated her. Like they were now.

  “That is Amelia, my friend. The other, I don’t know who that is,” she said. Tia leaned back in her chair as far as the cuffs would allow, then looked down her nose at them, shrugging to let them know she knew what they were doing. Intimidation required either truth or bluff, and they had neither.

  ADA Freely and Agent Cole seemed to sense it at the same time, glancing at each other. Agent Brown was the only one didn’t know what was going on. He leaned forward in his chair, holding his index finger sharply pointed down at the file-folder.

  “I don’t feel like you’re taking this seriously. You’re in big trouble Ms. Tichenor. Big. Trouble.”

  Tia weighed the possible responses in her mind. She didn’t want to accidentally fall into any traps that would give them an excuse to hold onto her any longer than need be. At the same time, she dearly wanted to go. “Agent Brown, maybe my English isn’t as good as I thought. After all, I only speak four languages and hold a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice, so maybe I don’t understand. You say I have not been arrested,” she said while shaking her wrists, “yet I am in cuffs. You say my rights are suspended because I have superpowers, so you haven’t allowed me to consult with a lawyer. I’m confused, which law gives you the right to suspend mine? What proof do you have that I, or anyone I know, has committed whatever crime you haven’t even told me about yet? Are you confused about who the Protectors are? You know… the super-team that saved the world... the one your president personally asked Amelia Lockheart to form? Please, mansplain to me where I’ve gone wrong?” Tia sat back, smiling. She hated that term, but figured it would get his goat, and it did.

  Brown leaped up, slamming his fist down on the table. The sudden, violent action failed to startle her.

  “Oh, we have plenty of crimes to charge you with— plenty. When we’re done with our investigation, we will throw you into the deepest darkest hole on Earth, unless you start cooperating now!” By the time he f
inished, spittle flew from his lips.

  How in God’s name did this buffoon become a Special Agent?

  Something about the situation felt off to her, right from the start The FBI was going after Amelia, the most recognizable, celebrated hero in the world. The media crucified her daily, protesters chanted in the streets to see her thrown in jail... pieces were forming, pieces of a puzzle. Tia may not have made detective, but it wasn’t for lack of her skills. She knew what she needed to do, and she needed out of here now so she could clear her friend’s name.

  “Okay, unless you have anything to charge me with, as a sovereign citizen of Argentina, I request either I be escorted to my consulate or given a lawyer—your choice.” She needed to end this farce now.

  The agent opened his mouth to yell some more when Freely pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered. He immediately put a hand on Browns shoulder, restraining him. “Understood,” he said into the phone before hanging up. “We’re letting her go. Ms. Tichenor, on behalf of the United States Government, consider your visa revoked. These two agents will escort you to the airport where you will board the next flight to Argentina. Good day,” he said as he left the room. Brown didn’t look happy. Tia just smiled sweetly at him while planning what to do next.

  SIX

  The airport was like every other she had visited. People rushing back and forth, hurrying to traverse security and make it to their flights in time. Tia smiled as they passed a little girl dancing. She wore an “I heart Arsenal” shirt. Her smile was cut short as Agent Brown lightly shoved on her shoulder, pushing her toward the gate.

  “Are the cuffs really necessary,” she asked again.

  “Protocol.” The same short, stilted answer he’d given the last two times she had mentioned it. At six feet, he towered over the diminutive Buenos Aires native. Not that it meant anything to her. With a moment’s thought she could out mass and outweigh him. He seemed to be the type that enjoyed pushing women around. If his partner cared, she didn’t show it.

  When he shoved her again, Tia had had enough. She stopped. The thing about her powers was that she didn’t have to turn them on, she had to hold them back. Once she opened the valve, her mass, weight, and density would increase exponentially. She could hold it back forever; it cost her nothing. Once she started though, it was exhausting to stop.

  “Agent, if you lay a finger on me again—”

  “You’ll do nothing. If you so much as touch me I’ll throw your butt in jail and let you rot for a decade before we even tell anyone we have you,” he said with a scowl.

  “Agent, if you lay one finger on me, I’m going to break it in half. You can imagine what you’ll do afterward,”—she let the valve open just a bit. The air shimmered around her as unnatural forces converged, increasing her mass and density to that of a semi-truck—in a 5’4 woman with a twenty-four-inch waist. “But you will still have a broken finger.”

  His eyes widened at the threat, lips curling back to snarl another warning at her. He raised his finger to poke her as if to test her threat. His partner, apparently the brains of the operation, grabbed his hand before he struck. They hadn’t lied about her strength; she stopped him cold. He glanced at her, about to unleash his rage in that direction when she nodded toward the floor. He followed her gaze to Tia’s feet, only to freeze in place. The metal plates on the airport floor had buckled slightly from her new mass.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he said, the color draining from his face.

  “I was a police officer in my country for five years. That badge you carry? It only shields so much,” she said, leveling her blue eyes at him with her best steely gaze.

  Briefly, Tia wondered if he would go through with it—risk the broken finger just to throw her in jail. When he lowered his hand and turned around to lead them to the airplane, she couldn’t help but be a tad disappointed.

  Agent Cole grinned at her and shrugged. Tia wondered why the woman didn’t talk. Perhaps it was a side effect of whatever powers she had?

  With a grunt, Tia forced the valve shut, draining off her extra mass and sighing as the last of it vanished. She was her normal weight again. She followed after the agents, letting them lead her to the plane.

  She liked people; that was her big problem with her job as a police officer. She just didn’t have the temperament or the desire to deal with the dregs of humanity. She did, however, want to help people. With her unit nickname, The Backup, she was called in when they needed a friendly face to defuse a situation. A face that couldn’t be hurt. For whatever reason, invulnerability just wasn’t a common power set in Central and South America, at least not as common as it was in North America.

  That was all in the past. When she returned to Argentina she had no job. Amelia had offered her a paid position on the Protectors but that vanished with her friend.

  “Now arriving, flight 23-77 from Mexico city. Please give the plane twenty minutes to clear and boarding will begin for the flight to Argentina.”

  Brown threw himself into a seat, not looking at Tia as he did so. Cole grabbed the black hard plastic seat opposite him and picked up a magazine to read.

  Tia decided she would rather stand. Maybe it would piss off Brown some more.

  If only there was something I could do to help her. She’s done so much for the world. That was Tia, though, a bleeding heart. She smiled as she heard her mother’s voice tell her she couldn’t save everyone. What good was all her superpower if she didn’t try?

  The doors opened and passengers disembarked from the plane. Only a few at first but then a steady line of people marched out, dispersing as they passed the gate.

  “You’ll be boarding first, so don’t think about trying anything stupid. We’re with you all the way to Buenos Aires,” Brown said without looking at her.

  She didn’t bother to respond.

  Then she saw him.

  “Brown,” she said moving next to the agent.

  “I said don’t try anything—”

  “Shut up for a second. You have to arrest that man,” she said trying to gesture without being obvious. Cole perked up upon hearing her tone, half standing to join them.

  “I don’t have to do anything, sit your butt down and—”

  “He’s the most wanted man in my country. His name is Massacre; he specializes in assassination. If he’s here, then someone important is going to die.”

  The tall suave man with thinning black hair moved easily through the crowd. His slight frame let him slide between people without touching them.

  “Nice try, Tichenor, but no dice.”

  Tia had only met Massacre once, three years before, when he had tried to kill the chief of police. The only thing that stopped him was her.

  “You have to stop him, but don’t touch him. He can control anyone he touches.”

  Cole stood fully up. She frowned at Brown, who was still scowling at Tia. She nodded toward Massacre and kicked Brown’s foot.

  “Don’t tell me you’re buying this?” he asked. She nodded. “Fine, let’s go talk to him.”

  Brown pushed himself up with exaggerated effort, adjusted his belt then walked toward the thin man, who was heading for the bathrooms. Tia followed behind. She was tired from her effort before, but not enough to stop her from powering up again if need be.

  “Sir,” Brown said. “Sir, please stop for a moment.”

  Massacre turned around, his polite smile faltered for a moment when he saw Tia, but he turned to the two agents with a questioning look. “Si?”

  “I’m agent Brown and this is agent Cole with the FBI. Can we see some ID?”

  Tia hung back, hoping the agents listened to her.

  “Si,” he said, setting down his luggage to pull out his passport. Agent Cole hung back a few feet but Brown stood right next to the man. Tia’s gut told her it was a mistake, but the man wouldn’t listen to her. Massacre finished pulling his passport out and handed it to Brown.

  The agent barely looked at it as he spoke. “What
is the purpose of your visit?” he asked.

  “I’m a contract assassin, my employers paid me to infiltrate your holding facility and kill the Protectors.”

  He said it so clearly, so matter of fact, the two agents were stunned into immobility. Massacre lunged forward as Tia screamed her warning.

  Brown tried to restrain him but wasn’t nearly fast enough. The slight Hispanic slipped by him and leaped at Cole. Tia’s warning forgotten, the agent did what she was trained to do, she attacked. Lifting her foot she jabbed out at him.

  He grabbed her leg, pulling her toward him in an embrace that ended with his body... deflating and disappearing as it absorbed into Cole’s through her skin.

  “Oh no,” Tia whispered.

  “Where did he go?” Brown asked.

  Cole, now possessed by Massacre, lunged forward, her hand reaching back and slapping Brown hard in the jaw. Tia could hear the crack of the bones in the agent’s face from ten feet away.

  Tia let out her breath, focusing on that place deep within her that triggered the valve. Mass poured into her, filling her with strength far beyond her frame. She snapped the chain holding the cuffs together as if it were made of paper.

  Massacre-Cole turned and scowled at Tia with an expression she had seen before—on Massacre. The agent’s mouth opened as the man possessing her tried to speak, but nothing came out. She pulled up short, looking down at herself as if she hadn’t expected that. Tia knew he normally researched his victims carefully. If they died, he died. If they were sick, he was sick. If they had an ailment or disorder, he did as well.

  Now I know why she doesn’t speak—she’s mute.

  “I know your powers, Massacre. You can’t just leap out of her. You’re stuck for twelve hours. That’s twelve hours you can’t call anyone for help.”