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Revenge of Number One
I walked to the side of the car. “Are you hungry?” John asked.
“Yeah, I could eat,” I said. He hopped into the driver’s seat, and I into the passenger’s. He started the eight hundred horse power engine, and roared it to life. Then he jetted off at forty miles an hour.
“Where do you want to go,” he asked.
“You still got Home Town Buffets in this future?” I asked.
“Yeah, but there more expensive now. Anywhere else you could think of?”
“How about subways? You got them?”
“The sandwich place? Yeah we got them around,” he said. We drove in silence for about twenty minutes before he slowed down and turned into a small sandwich shop.
Ten minutes later we were walking out with two foot long sandwiches. I started to step into the Porsche, but a man stopped me.
“Hey, you look pretty strong. How about a street fight?”
“Hey John., is street fighting legal in this time? I haven’t been here that long.” I asked.
“It depends. You have to have a police barricade to block off the public from getting involved.” John said.
“I’m in.” I said.
“Okay, well I’ve got the ally way ready for the fight,” the man said.
I set down the BLT and followed him through about ninety feet of small side allies before getting into one with police cars blocking it off on both sides about thirty feet apart. Inside them was a single man. But he was huge. About six and a half feet tall with gigantic muscles from obvious farm work gleaming in the early morning sun.
“Is that the guy I’m fighting,” I asked a little concerned.
“Yup,” the man said.
“When will the fight start?”
“As soon as you get in there.”
“Okay.” I said.
I walked around the police cars, explaining that I was a fighter. They let me right through and I met the man in the middle of the ally. He walked over to me, hit his hands against mine, and then went into a fighting position. Kick boxing. I know kick boxing, regular boxing, karate, kung fu, tai kwon doe and bare knuckle brawling.
I quickly thought of some things I could do to him, and realized I could still control minds. I smiled as he threw the first punch, that he quickly “rethought” and punched himself. His fist cracked his nose loudly, and it was plain to see that it broke.
Then, I hit him myself once. It blacked both of his eyes with a loud crunch. He threw a punch faster than I could control his mind and hit me in the lower stomach. It made me double over in pain, and he then hit me over the head with a double fisted punch. My face quickly smashed into the gravelly ground.
Adrenaline pumped and I slowly stood back up. He was getting the crowds outside the police cars riled up and wasn’t expecting me to come up behind him. I quietly walked up behind him, and kicked him in the spine. He flew into the cruiser he was in front of smashing the window with his face. I dragged him around, and propped him against a wall. I smashed him in the face with my bionic arm and threw four teeth and mouthful of blood flying.
“I give,” he said.
“What?” I asked meanly, and kicked him in the knee. It crunched sideways.
“I give,” he said a little louder. I released him and let him fall. He laid in a heap on the ground while I walked away. The man who had asked me to fight was waiting beside the cop cars.
“That was amazing,” he said.
“Yeah, I know.” I said.
“Dude, you slaughtered him,” he said, his eyes wide. “I haven’t seen anything like that in my life; even world war three wasn’t that bad.”
“What’s world war three?” I asked John, who was standing beside me, in a whisper.
“It was war Omen started against Israel. Afghanistan instantly joined in, and after a while Saudi Arabia got in on it. Russia came in after six months of solid fighting to stop the war. When they couldn’t stop it, they called upon the United States,” John said. “I myself was a medic. I don’t like talking about some of the things I saw.”
“Hey, you two, done talking yet?” The man, who I’d almost completely forgot about, asked.
“Oh, yeah sorry,” I said quickly.
“I was going to ask you if you want to join my Invincible Man fighting club. What do ya think?’
“Can I think about it?” I asked.
“Yeah, sure take all the time you want.” He said. “He’s the number you can contact me at,” he handed me a card, “Tell me what you think.”
“I’ll call you,” I said.
“Hank are you really thinking about joining his club?” John asked.
“I don’t know.” I said, “Maybe.”
It was mid-night when the three met. One a mutant, one a giant and the last a shape shifter. The mutant held out a briefcase. “One hundred thousand dollars, right,” the mutant said. The giant nodded greedily and held out his hands.
“You got the guns too?” The shape shifter asked. The mutant held out another briefcase with an assortment of guns inside.
“They’re all there,
I promise,” the mutant said. The shape shifter scanned the top layer of guns and nodded lightly.
“HEY!” The giant yelled. “You shorted us five hundred dollars!” The mutant instantly pulled out a clip of money. He opened it and counted out five hundred dollar bills.
“There, all five hundred count it if you want to,” the mutant said crazily, “You can even take this extra three thousand.” The giant quickly snatched away the money.
“We need to know your real name before we’ll do the work,” the shape shifter said. “I’m Nemo, this is Mort. He is usually the leader, you know level headed and all, but money makes him a little crazy.”
“You shall call me Number One. Now let’s get down to business. You guys need to capture him alive.
The guns will assist, trust me this guy is ultra powerful. Then you just put a sack around his head, hit him a couple times to knock him out, and then tie up with steel chord.” The mutant said.
“We’ll do it.” The shape shifter said. “Mort, come on. You can drool over the money after we get home. Metamorphic will most likely be waiting. He just doesn’t give up.” The giant reluctantly closed the briefcase and followed, sighing deeply. Number One smiled. HE quickly flipped on his jets and flew away still having the powers of being a cyborg.
He was hunting the one and only, Hank the cyborg. “Wait! Wait!” Number One heard Nemo shout.
“What?” Number One said back.
“Where is he? The guy you want us to capture?”
“He’s staying with John Rock.”
“Huh, John Rock. I never thought I’d here that name again,” the shape shifter said.
“Where did you hear it last time?” The mutant asked.
“He was a famous fighter my uncle Tam fought. He’s a pretty tough guy. He must be pretty old now at least sixty.” the shape shifter said.
“No, that would be his father. He’s only thirty. The guy your thinking of died ten years ago.” The mutant said. The shape shifter quickly nodded once, and started to walk away. The mutant flipped into his jets and flew strait for the abandoned warehouse at the edge of Springfield. His secret hideaway.
I walked to the telephone in John’s house. I was debating whether or not to call Michael. It had been two days since I had been in the street fight and I was ready to make a decision.
John came walking in. “Take a rest. It’s been a long day,” he said.
I nodded and flopped down into a recliner that was near by. John sat down in front of his laptop, and double clicked on Internet Explorer. He typed something in and found the page he was looking for. A picture of a chamber and three paragraphs popped up.
“Invincible Man fighting and workout gym is very well known. You should think about joining. Personally I think the name is a little weird, but the club is the third highest ranking in the country,” John said.
“Really? I thought it was just another rookie fight to kill thing. And there’s a workout part?” I said. “I’m going to call him.” I got up and picked up the phone. Quickly I dialed the number on the card and waited for an answer.
After a short pause a man answered.
“Hello?” He asked.
“Yeah, this is Hank. Michael told me to call if I decided to join Invincible Man.” I said.
“Yeah, I got your file right here. Michael said your something special. Are you planning to join?” The man asked.
“Yes, I would like join. Is there any way to get in tomorrow?” I asked.
“I can have in an initiation fight tonight if you want,” the man said.
“That would be perfect,” I said. “Good bye.”
“Come down to Hector Street, 3224 Highway 81, tonight at ten thirty.” He said.
I hung up the phone and checked my watch. It was nine O’clock. “Well. What’d they say?” John asked.
“I’m in my first fight at ten thirty. How far is Hector Street?’ I asked.
“About three miles, we can get there in about two minutes. Why?” He asked.
“That’s where the fight is,” I said. I got up and started pacing up and down the hall.
I walked through the stone doors of Invincible Man and looked around. There were people of all different Nations and sizes scattered all around the room. There were doing every thing from working out to playing portable video game systems.
“Excuse me,” I said to a large man sitting near me. He looked at me with dark green eyes.
“What?” He asked with a deep, intimidating voice.
“I’m just starting here. Where do I find the initiation fights?”
“That way,” he said without a hesitation, pointing toward to a room through an empty doorway.
“Thank you,” I said. He didn’t pay any attention; he just turned back to what he was doing.
I walked through the doorway and found myself in a damp cold room. There were a few small men, one woman, and a large man I quickly recognized as Michael.
“Hey, Michael I’m here for my initiation fight.” I called. He turned around and smiled.
“Hank, glad to see ya. You can fight within ten minutes. I’ll get you when the fighters are ready. Until then you can help yourself to the workout equipment in that corner over there.” Michael said.
“Thanks,” I said.
I walked to a bench pressing machine and laid down. I got a good grip of the steel bar, and pushed up. The weight went up easily and I did twenty reps.
After working out for a few moments Michael came back to me. “Follow me,” he said. I put down the one hand weights and followed him through a hallway into a nicer room. It had warm wooden walls.
“Choose your fighter,” he said. I looked at the opposite wall and saw men that were slightly built and fast looking.
“Him,” I said, choosing one that looked like a fast and strong competitor.
“Very good, now follow me to the ring.” Michael said. He led me to a black octagon fighting ring. Michael left and a moment later the man I had chosen came walking in with him. I got into the ring, and the man followed closely behind.
“Round one. Fighters to your corners,” Michael said. The man backed into one of the corners at random. I did the same and a loud bell rang.
My opponent came charging after me. I stepped to the side and watched him run into the ropes, bouncing back into the middle of the ring on his butt. He got up, and started circling around me. I patiently waited for the next attack.
After a moment the suspense got him and he jumped onto me. I kicked him in the stomach and smashed him over the head. Then I lifted him over my head and threw him into the floor, sending up a large cloud of dust.
He rose to his feet, and tried to kick me. I caught his foot and twisted it. Then I completely flipped his entire body over, sending him sprawling back to the ground.
He got up again, slower this time and, after a short pause, took a step forward. I did a feet sweep and rose up behind him. He started to get up again, and I kicked him in the chest. I heard the air go out of him, and he slowly drew it back in.
He grabbed my hand and shook it.
“You…Win.” He said between long gasps. I looked at Michael who was writing something down in a miniature notebook. He then took me away from the ring, and back down the hallway we’d gone through earlier. The room I’d first come into was almost empty after the twenty minutes I had spent in the fight.
“Alright, you did very well, but you weren’t brutal enough. You need to work on busting heads,” Michael told me.
“Yes sir,” I said rolling my eyes. I walked briskly out the door of the Invincible Man and got into the passenger’s door of John’s car.
“How’d you do?” John asked.
“I’m pretty sure I got into the club,” I said.
“Cool!” He exclaimed. He had a large smile on his face. “I heard that the fighters can get paid up to nine hundred dollars a fight, without a bet put on it.”
“Really? That’s good pay,” I said.
“Yeah it is,” he agreed.
I walked from John’s car to the inside of his apartment. It was near mid-night because we had stopped by a pizza shop to celebrate my inevitable entry into one of the most popular fighting clubs in the nation.
When I opened the front door and saw the wreckage, my eyes bugged out my head. The house was in ruins. Desks and table were overturned, an aquarium was shattered, papers and water were strewn randomly across the floor and all the pictures were torn.
“What the hell happened to this place?!” John yelled.
“I don’t know, but the people who did this left a letter on the wall,” I said, looking at the far wall with a little piece of paper stuck on it.
I walked over and pulled it off. “Hank, Number One sent us after you. Watch your back, or else.
Your secret killer.
“What does that mean,” John said, “Who’s Number One?”
“He’s my arch nemesis. I thought he was dead. Unless it wasn’t acid I dipped him in.” I said, deep in thought of how Number One was still alive.
Number One walked from the window he was standing at to the other side of the room. It was a very large building he was in, a custom designed seven hundred feet tall, three hundred feet wide dome.
“Jeff, is everything in place for me to regain my power?” Number One asked.
“Almost, sir. One more adjustment should finish the job,” Jeff answered in his strong voice. Number one was planning to get together his loyal army of Cyborgs. Then once that was complete they would start taking over large countires. It had worked the first time and it had to work the second.
“I want it done and the Cyborgs found by tomorrow morning. If not you get the consequences.” Number One said.
“Yes sir. We already have twenty of the twenty nine we need.” Jeff answered.
“Well remember, I want my power back in less than a week. If you have to, you can even send in a couple groups of humans first to weaken some of the stronger Countries,” Number One said, slamming his one metallic hand into his mutated one.
“Sir, everything will be ready. You need not get so worried,” Jeff said soothingly.
“Shut up,” Number One said, sweeping his bionic arm through the air with such power and speed that, with not even touching him, Jeff was thrown through the air into a large recliner, knocking it over instantaneously.
He got up and walked out the door. “I’ll go work on locating the other nine Cyborgs,” he mumbled, more to himself than his boss.
“I want them found,” Number One yelled after him. Even though he knew he might be watching him through the wall, Jeff flipped Number One off. A crashing through the wall told Jeff that Number One was watching him. A stapler crashed through the hardwood wall and sunk an inch deep into the opposite.
“Watch it!” Jeff yelled through the hole.
“I just barely missed what I was aiming at,” Number One said, calmly but cruelly.
It was hours later that Number One got the word that twenty eight of the Cyborgs were found. The twenty ninth had been killed.
“Jeff,” Number One said. “Check the radar. They must be close.”
“Yes sir,” Jeff said. He raised the tracking device that he had in his hands. “This shows the closest being, approximately one and a half miles away. The farthest is ten.”
Jeff left the room and started to search for Number Thirty-one, Hank, the only Cyborg known to be able to stop Number One. He was only thirty five miles away.
“I’m leaving for the day. See you tomorrow,” Jeff yelled.
“Make sure all the Cyborgs are here tomorrow, or else,” Number One said.
Jeff didn’t answer as he walked toward his car. He got in, started the engine and felt the car lift up off the ground.
Jeff lifted and dropped a sail boat knocker twice. A man opened the door. “Hello,” Jeff said. “Who are you?”
“I’m John Rock.” John answered.
“Good. Is a Hank Johnson living here?” Jeff asked.
“Just a second,” John said. “Hank, someone’s here to see you.”
“Who is it,” Hank said, taking the door into his own hand.
“I’m Jeff Smith. We need to talk about someone.” Jeff said.
An hour later Hank was astonished to know that Jeff had worked for Number One and had mutinied by coming to notify him that Number One was rising again to power.
“So let me get this right,” Hank said, “You drove thirty five miles for an hour to come tell me that the nemesis I thought was dead until just yesterday is hiding out near me? Cool!”
“Yup. Only one problem though. He’s been mutated. He was somehow dropped into a vat of nuclear waste. The last time you saw him he was powerful, but now he’s unbelievably powerful, almost unstoppable.” Jeff said.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Number One was more powerful. “That was nuclear waste I dipped him then, huh?” I asked. “If I would have known that at the time…I thought it was acid,” I said.
“You did it? Okay well, Number One was hiding in a warehouse only a mile from here, but when he sent out Mort and Nemo, he moved.
“Who’s Mort and Nemo?” I asked.
“Their mercenaries sent out by Number One to destroy you.” Jeff answered. I started panicking.
“When are they going to be here?” I asked.
“Don’t know. With the powers they have they could be listening in on your windowsill as a bird. Or be on your carpet the size of a flea,” Jeff answered.
“What? That has to be impossible,” I said, furrowing my brow.
“No, Mort’s from a different planet and no one really knows what’s wrong with Nemo.”
“Wait. Is there any way to fight them off,” John asked.
“Probably, if you get the right stuff. You,” Jeff said pointing at me, you’ll need an upgrade. John you’ll need to be trained Kung Fu, Karate and Tai kwon do. Then you’ll be trained to use Nun-chucks, machine guns, logging chains and swords.”
“Okay,” I and John said in unison.
Jeff stood and started pacing up and down the hallway. “I think I know a trainer, and I can personally upgrade the machinery.” He mumbled to himself.
“Machinery?” I asked, “I don’t like to be referred to as machinery.”
“Sorry,” Jeff said.
“I can get Hank to train me,” John said.
“No, that won’t work. Hank only knows the advanced form of all the fighting styles,” Jeff said.
“Okay well what about Michael,” John asked.
“Who’s Michael?” John asked.
“The owner of Invincible Man. The fighting club,” I spoke up.
“That might work.” Jeff said. It hit me just then that it was time for my fight.
“Which reminds me,” I said, “I and John have to go to the club now. I’m a member, and I have a match in ten minutes.”
“Then we’ll need to hurry. What kind of car do you have?” He asked John.
“A Porsche Boxter,” He answered.
“We’ll have to take my car then,” Jeff said, “It’s faster. A/C Cobra.”
We jogged out to the red and black Cobra. We hopped in and I took the wheel. “John, how are these cars driven,” I asked.
“Just like any other.” John said. I turned the key and the car came off the ground. I shifted from neutral to first gear. The jerked into life and glided through the air. I shifted into second, then third.
We were only two blocks away when something stepped into my path. I was going to fast and the animal was too tall to go over. I slammed on the brakes and skidded into a stop.
The animal climbed onto the hood of the car. I looked closer. What I thought was an animal was a large man. I started to drive away again, but something was holding to car to the ground. I turned around. A grizzly bear had his claws sank into the bumper.
“Who are you?” I called to the man on the hood.
“Mort,” He said.
“John, take the wheel,” I said looking into the passenger’s seat.
I jumped out and walked to the back. The bear looked at me, and roared in my face. Hot rancid breath nearly choked to death. I through a punch, but quicker than my arm the bear turned in an eagle.
“Nemo?” I asked. The eagle nodded before driving it’s beak into my nose. I grabbed it by the tail, and instantly regretted it. Porcupine quills drove deep into my hands.
Mort jumped from the hood of the car and onto my back. Then I heard a deafening bang. Mort flew from my back quickly. I looked to where the sound had come from and saw Mike; the man I had left three months earlier in a grocery store.
Number One walked from his car to his safe house. The Cyborgs had arrived two hours earlier. This was the moment to inspire the first attack on Russia.
He walked through the door and found the room full. Jeff hadn’t shown that morning, so he was on his own. He walked to the podium at the front of the room.
“Quiet please,” He said through the micro phone. “This is the moment we’ve all waited for. The moment of truth. You all remember the attacks we did ten years ago? Hank the Cyborg took the power from us. The power we worked hard for. Now it is time to retake the power and split the world into our own divisions. Thousands of miles to our own, armies included and money pouring in every day. Wars may happen, winner taking small sections of land. Who will join me?”
The Cyborgs listening screamed in approval. Apparently the words had taken effect.
“The attack is tomorrow, be ready,” Number One finished.
He stepped from the podium and let one of his workers, Tucker, take the stand.
“Please leave in an orderly single file line,” Tucker said as Number One left the building. He walked back to his car, leaving the building unlocked. It was time to switch buildings yet again. His next hideout would be thirty five miles away, Hector Street.
He got into his car and started the engine. He thought of how he must try to avoid Number Thirty One, even if he wouldn’t recognize him. The car drove smoothly through the air.
Number One drove onto Hector Street without the slightest idea that Hank, Mike, John, Mort and Nemo were all fighting in the middle of the road.
“Hello,” He called out his window. “Is there a problem?”
“Yeah,” One answered, Hank answered.
“What, I need to get somewhere,” He yelled.
“These people attacked us, uh, Mort and Nemo. That’s it,” The man called back.
“Oh, really,” Number One said. He opened his door. “Why hello. You may remember me. I’m kind of, your arch nemesis.”
“Oh God no.” Hank said. He got into a fighting position. Mort had gotten up from the electric shot of Mike’s Police issue gun.
Number One got out of his car. He walked up to Hank. With his new mutated body he stood several feet higher than the six foot man. Hank threw a punch. It hit Number One right in the stomach. The sound of the punch could be heard several hundred feet away and drove the quills deeper into Hank’s hand. He yelled out in pain, yet all Number One did was laugh.
I looked astonishingly at Number One. That punch had been all I had. The last time I had used that was when I ripped the leather outside of a punching bag. He laughed harder. I punched him again. He stopped laughing and yawned.
“Are you done yet,” He asked.
“Nope,” I answered.
“Too late,” he said, punching me in the middle of the stomach. I flipped through the air twice and landed on my face. Blood flowed from my nose. I sat up and puked. Long streaks of blood were visible in it.
I stood up and stumbled into Mort. He smiled and lifted me into the air. Then, yet again he crumbled to the power of Mike’s taser. Mike turned the barrel to Number One. When he pulled the trigger this time there wasn’t the slightest hint that anything had happened.
“Who is this guy?” Mike called.
“I’m guessing he’s Number…” John started, but Mort attacked him. Jeff jumped on top of both of them and pulled out a knife. He rammed it deep into Mort. It was his leg, so it didn’t cause more than a nasty deep cut and a scream.
Mike fell to the ground by an attack from a coyote version of Nemo. A taser shot knocked him off, but he was attacking again the next second.
A bright light shown from behind the fighting crowd. An A/C Cobra shot by, hitting Number One in the stomach. He flew through the air and landed on the top of his head. He didn’t move, so Mort and Nemo went to his aid.
“Get in,” I yelled from the inside of the car. Mike, John and Jeff all got in, filling in the four door car.
“That was Number One,” Jeff said. I and Jeff were the only ones in the car to have seen Number One. Mike, an elderly man, looked nearly dead compared to the man I had seen only days ago for me, and many years ago for him. We had been separated in 2009, and since it was now 2030, I thought he had long since died and decayed. Yet he was here alive and well.
I woke up the next morning to Mike shaking me. “Come on young one,” he said.
“Wha…, huh.” I said. I realized it was morning and cleared my eyes.
“Jeff, is that right, left,” Mike said. “He said he was going to supermarket.” I looked at Mike. He was hunched over, had white hair, a hardwood cane and his voice had lost all it’s strength.
“Mike, how old are you?” I asked.
“Well, I was sixty-two when we met, so I’d say, eighty-three,” he answered. I looked at him with squinted eyes.
“You didn’t look sixty when we met,” I said.
“I was in good shape,” He said. “I found the future is much better than the Civil War.”
“Wow,” I mumbled as Mike walked out of the room. I stood up and started getting dressed. I had to buy shirts three sizes larger than what I wore to fit my Bionic arm into. It was kind of noticeable, but most people avoided saying anything about it.
“Hi, Je…What are you doing,” Came the loud voice of John from the living room.
I ran out in my shirt and boxer shorts. Jeff was holding a knife to John’s throat. “Move and John gets it,” Jeff yelled.
I stood there, powerless to do anything. Jeff walked John slowly toward me. When he reached where I was standing he let go of John. I guess he was going to snatch me, but I gave him a good upper cut that sent him flying across the room. His head smacked off the wall with a metallic thud.
He got up, rubbing his jaw. The skin was gone and circuitry was showing underneath. This wasn’t Jeff. I walked over and took the knife from the imposter’s hands. He tried to hit me, but I smacked him across the face. No blood. I cut off his hair, and the skin underneath.
“Damn!” I yelled. “He’s sending the Cyborgs.” Where I had cut off the false skin was three. It was Number Three, one of Number One’s minions.
Number One flicked on his television set. Conveniently no one had seen the street fight between his gang and Hank’s. He learned a few things about Jeff. But he was no longer a necessary attachment to his plan. He had planned to just kill him off after the attack on Russia. Having him as an enemy was not a major threat.
He saw that the fight wasn’t on the News and turned the T.V back off. He had sent a Cyborg to attack Hank, and he was probably already dead.
He walked outside, and into his car. All the others were waiting a couple miles away at an airport. They were planning to just steal a plane and send it to Russia. Having a robotic brain paid of on things like that, because flying airplanes was programmed in.
He drove to the airport, flying at a speeding rate of one hundred fifty miles an hour. Once there he greeted his army, Mort Nemo, Tucker, Brian and the remaining Cyborgs.
“Are we ready,” he asked Tucker. The large man nodded once and stepped into place. His machine gun was a necessity since he was a mortal. Mort and Nemo had double shotguns in one hand, covered with ammo across their chests and desert eagles strapped to their hips. Underneath their camouflage they each had several layers of Kevlar on. They would come in handy, one being able to shrink down and grow to enormous sizes and the other being able to turn into any animal imaginable. Brian had Kevlar, many layers, a Vulcan, and mini machine guns strapped to his feet. The Cyborgs wore simple clothes, swords and daggers.
Number One raised his arm high into the air and lowered it, sending them all into rank and file. He unholstered his sawn off shotgun. “Ready, attack,” He yelled. The mini army walked through the front door. The woman at the front desk instantly started reaching for the button under the desk. Number One raised the shotgun and blasted through her chest. She was flung against the wall and slumped to the ground, dead.
They continued. The crowds of people screamed, and fell to the floor, their hands over their heads. Hordes of guards, having heard the commotion, came sprinting with pistols drawn. Machine guns let loose, turning the dozens of guards into Swiss cheese.
They walked straight to the door leading to the landing strips. More guards. Number One smiled, and raised his gun. Three shots later Number One was reloading, and the guards were scattered across the yard.
Number One chose a plane. He walked on board. The passengers started screaming as he shot the pilot. He then pushed the body out of the seat and killed the co polite who was thrashing wildly to unbuckle his seatbelt.
Number One exited the plane, and gave the thumbs up for the fuel tanks to be filled. The Cyborgs drove around in a van filled with airplane fuel. They hooked the hose up as Number One walked back onto the plane.
“We’re taking over this plane, and there’s nothing you can do to stop us. If you try, you will be immediately executed. If you pull anything that looks like a weapon to me or my men, you will be immediately executed. If you get up to use the restroom without informing us first, you will be immediately executed. Is that understood?” No one said anything. “I SAID, IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!” Number One yelled. A series of yeses filled the air.
The plane was now fully fueled. Number one loaded him men on the plane, sitting in the pilot’s seat afterwards. He started the turbine engines, and drove down the runway.
I drove down the highway watching for police officers. I was going way to fast for the speed limits. It was three days after Number One had left for Russia. I had to stop him, but I had no way to get there. Other than army jets and I wasn’t above breaking laws. The army base was a quarter.
He looked into his rear view mirror. Nothing. Good. I pulled into the base.
“This is a private property, sir, state your business or else you must leave,” the man at the gate said. I flipped him off as I rammed through the gate.
Bullets rang through the air, but it didn’t stop me. I drove to the edge of their landing port. My upgraded technology done by Jeff helped as I shot a spear out of my arm. It hit the top of the building the jet was on.
“All go,” I said. One by one everyone else in the car grabbed the steel cord running from my arm to the spear. As they grabbed I flicked my wrist. The force of the flick flung them to the top of the building. I retracted the spear and used my jets to fly to the top of the building.
Everyone loaded up quickly, and I took the wheel. I started the engine, hearing the bullets going through the steel walls of the jet. I lifted off, thinking of what I had done to the imposter that had turned out to be a cyborg. I had taken the out cold body and buried it in under a tree near the apartment John lived in. He would survive, but it would take weeks to get out of the fifteen foot deep hole.
Within the next hour we were over Russia. This jet was a lot more powerful than the ones of my time. This could quadruple the sound barrier. Then on top of that it had bombs and machine guns attached.
I pushed the wheel forward and landed quickly. Wreckage and debris covered the ground. It was a mess. Dead Russian soldiers lay all over the ground. Not one of the dead people worked with Number One. Apparently the attack had been successful for the time being. Mike leaned forward and took a pistol from the gun rack beside me.
Ever since I had been upgrade, I was a weapon. A rocket launcher was accessible from one of my arms, a spear gun from the other. My jet shoes were upgraded so I could go three times as fast, a remarkable ninety miles an hours. I also had the final upgrade of heat seeking eyes. This would come in handy when battling Number One’s men.
I got out of the jet, followed by Mike, Jeff, John, Michael, and fifteen other fighters of Invincible Man who agreed to come along after I told them of the fight I’d had with Number One.
I walked through the mess of soldiers and debris of fallen bases. After two hours of listening for noises of battle we found something. About a tenth of a mile to the south there was a faint sound of heavy gunfire.
“Hank, we need a plan. Number’s brain and mind was advanced as well as his body,” Jeff said.
“Yes. Well, I’m guessing the building in the distance over there is where the battle is taking place,” I said pointing to a white fort on the horizon “You, John, Mike and the other fighters will go to the east. I and Michael will go to the west. When we meet in the center of the building we will tell each other of casualties. If we all make it, all the better. Then we’ll continue through the base together until we get the leader.” I finished.
I passed out the guns. I got duel clay mores, Mike a 357 desert eagle, Jeff an FN Scar, John an ak47 and Michael the M4A1. We set out, separated as I had instructed. Mike could barely lift the heavy handgun I had given him. I was really concerned of his safety. Even though when I had met him in the Civil War times, he had a bad attitude and a healthy hatred of the Southern states, he was a nice brittle old man.
It another hour later that we reached the cement building. I could no longer see the other troop of men and I was still worried of Mike’s welfare.
I snuck in through a hole blown in the side of the building. The sound of gunshot was now almost deafening. I could see smoke through the air, but the room itself was just lit enough to make out the shining eyes of a Russian soldier.
“Hold your fire,” I said, hoping he knew English. “I am here to help you.” Apparently he didn’t understand because there was a deafening shot of a rifle. The bullet panged off my bionic arm. I shook my head, and slashed my swords. The soldier fell silently to the Earth. A slash as long as my arm was cut into his ribs.
“Michael, keep quiet and out of my way,” I whispered, trying not to give away our position. He nodded and fell into line behind me.
I walked quietly through the maze of hallways. After at least half an hour later I stumbled across a war zone. This room was lit up better, and I could see everything. Number One’s men were slaughtering Russian soldiers. From the looks of things, if I didn’t help, Russia would be wiped put. Yet I had to kill Russian soldiers myself to survive. What was I to do?
Number One leaned back. The sniper rifle in his hands was aimed toward the hallway from which all Russian Soldiers were emerging from. He was a quarter mile away from the action watching his victory unfold.
“Sir,” a deep voice said from behind. “There is a problem.”
“What,” Number One asked, not looking away from the sights of his rifle.
“There are two renegade teams sweeping through the area. They have already taken out more men than the Russian’s. I have word from a survivor of one of the attacks. They are not Russian,” the man behind Number One said.
“Must be some American troops stepping into the fight,” Number One said. “Guess I’d better get up and go help you guys.”
Number One stood and folded up the tripod rifle stand. As he walked away Hank showed himself slightly as he ran into another major fight, wiping out anything that moved. If Number One had stayed stationary for just another second, he would have seen his arch enemy.
Number One walked to the base. He was ready for anything. But as he stepped through the open hole of the building he was surprised to see an old man holding a very large handgun. The man popped off two shots, knocking himself over. The bullets did nothing to Number One as he was bullet proof in his new mutated form.
He walked over to the fallen elderly man. He recognized him. He was one of Hank’s helpers. He leaned down. “Old man. Listen. Answerer my question I won’t kill you. Is Hank with you?”
“Yes,” the old man, Mike, said. “Yes, he’s here.”
“Okay. All I needed to know.” Number One said. He held his hand out to help Mike up. “Tucker,” he said to the man who had warned him of the renegades. “Kill him.”
“No. No, you said if I answered you, you’d let me live,” Mike said.
“No I said, I won’t kill you. I said nothing of Tucker.” Number One said. Tucker raised his machine gun. Before Tucker could shoot, Mike quickly unholstered his Desert Eagle. A loud shot filled the sir. Tucker flew to the ground. Number One looked at the body. Apparently the bullet had been armor piercing for Tucker’s chest was bleeding badly, right through his Kevlar.
Number One crouched down and felt his neck. No pulse. Tucker was dead. Number One rose to the old man. “You’d better hope…” He started.
“He’d better hope what,” a voice behind them said. Number One whirled around. The man he used to fear was dwarfed by him. But Hank wasn’t alone. John Rock stepped out of the shadows, followed by Jeff Smith, then an unfamiliar man, followed by a team of others.
“Answer the question,” Hank said. Number One started to laugh, but the fast steel blades of two swords beat him to it. Blood squirted around the room, but Number One didn’t even flinch. He reached down and smacked Hank across the face. It knocked him down and Number One turned back to Mike.
Someone tapped on his shoulder. “I ain’t done yet,” Hank said. Number One turned around. A bionic fist hit him in the face, followed by a series of shots from an M4A1. John had decided to get in on the fight.
The team of men approached. Number One had, had enough. He raised his fist high into the air, ignoring the bullets hitting him. He brought his fist down, and made a waving motion from the power of the hit on the ground. The entire team fell. But Hank was still standing.
“Done yet?” Hank asked.
“No,” Number One said.
“Too bad,” Hank said. He slashed the claymores once more, and watched the head of his nemesis fall. He had completely decapitated Number One. Hank turned to help up Michael and his team.
“What about the other Cyborgs?” Mike asked.
“I took care of them,” Hank said, wiping blood from under his nose.
I got up from my chair. It had been ten years since I had gotten rid of my arch nemesis. Number One was defiantly dead this time, and I knew it. Although the town and people around me had changed, the fact that I was a Cyborg disabled me from ageing. Today was Mike’s funeral.
“Hank, we need to go,” Jeff said from behind me. I nodded slowly, thinking of the time I had spent with Mike over the past ten years. We had gotten much closer than when I had first met him years and years ago. It had been in the Civil War. When Mike had gotten to old to take care of himself, I had taken care of him. Buying his groceries, his clothes, pushing his wheel chair everywhere, changing his diapers and giving him baths was the weekly schedule until Mike had become stationary in the hospital.
The last week before he had died it was hard to see Mike, reliving the old days, thinking of how we had fought side by side for a full day. How I had changed history by helping Mike’s troop win a battle he should have died in.
I sat down in the passenger seat of John’s car. Jeff sat in the back, John up front and Michael sitting with Jeff. John had aged well. He was now in his thirties; I couldn’t keep track of how old he was exactly. But he looked the same as when we had met over ten years ago when I was after Trent, the leader of the zombies.
Jeff hadn’t been quite so lucky. He had gotten pneumonia twice from the cigarettes he had started smoking. I had tried of four occasions to try and get him to stop, but even if he did for a week, sometimes two he always started again and was a jerk the whole time in between.
Michael had handed the Invincible Man down to his three sons, and I had remained a member. With a total of forty seven wins and no loses, without using my weaponry, I had made about fourteen thousand dollars, enough to buy Mike a good casket.
I would really miss the old man I had helped throughout the years. I had gotten the best coffin I could afford.
We pulled into the funeral home. There were already many cars parked outside. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Not only had I lost Mike, but I knew someday I would lose John, Jeff and Michael, the only people I had grown to love. And I would never die. Not without another Cyborg to do the job.
Hot tears ran down my face as I got out of the Porsche. I could see John was as upset as I, and was trying to hold back crying. Jeff had a cigarette in his mouth, looking for his book of matches. I didn’t have it in me to stop him today.
I walked into the building. In every room there were people giving speeches about someone who had died. Our room was one thirteen. We walked in and took a seat in the front of the small room.
In the next hour I cried so much that I couldn’t see anymore. When we left I was a mess. We loaded back into the Porsche. I sat in the back, giving Michael the front seat. Jeff had run out of cigarettes, and was being a real pain.
We drove back to John’s apartment. It was late afternoon when we got there. I got out of the car, and walked up the stairs to John’s room. As I opened the door I saw a familiar sight. The house was wrecked. But this time it wasn’t an enemy attack. We hadn’t cleaned anything since Mike had died two days ago.
But something else was wrong. There was someone there. A large man was hiding in the shadows, thinking I couldn’t see him. I flipped my heat seeking vision on. Brian Wilkinson was in the room with me.