No Master Plan Here (Madness Runs in the Family)

No Master Plan Here

By Joel Burdick

This one is dedicated to Bonnie

Without whom this would still be an idea.

Chapter 1

             
March 4, 2014

              Sometimes in life you have to ask yourself “How did I end up here? What led me to this?” Sometimes this is also accompanied by the thought “So this is how I die.” The first question isn't really a bad one, as asking the question “Why am I here?” can lead to thoughts of where you would rather be and what you might do to get there. Self searching possibly leading to progress.

             
Of course, adding that second question tends to make the soul searching a bit more limited and a lot less productive, unless you actually survive what you figured was going to kill you. If you don't, then all that business about the mistakes you made along the way and who you should have been nicer to, that all goes down the drain with your life.

             
As Anansi contemplated his life's mistakes, his life flashing before his eyes in a fraction of an adrenaline fueled second, a hundred yards away, Archangel threw a bus at him. A full-sized cross-country Greyhound bus. A small part of Anansi screamed that this was all predetermined. Lucas Lockheart, code named Archangel, could fly, take a .50 caliber armor-piercing round to the face and keep coming (He had seen the video on the net), and yes, throw buses. Anansi could make really neat stuff, but physically he wasn't much more than a norm, even if his armor boosted his strength and agility. He wasn't The Suit, who had powered armor that could go toe to toe with the best of them and come out on top, though, admittedly he might have been able to make something like that if he set his mind to it, not that he had ever tried. He was Anansi, named for an African trickster god he had read about once, and head on fights weren't his style. Anansi decided that he had no real business fighting Archangel.

             
Yet here he was, watching the poster boy of the United States government superhuman project throw several tons of steel, glass, and various other stuff at him like it was a lawn dart.

             
'I think I pissed him off, too,' Anansi thought.

             
Maybe it was the taunting him while he had caused attack after attack launched during this fight to miss, Anansi being not much better than a normal human and Archangel being practically a god. Maybe it was the fact that a news chopper was catching the whole ordeal and broadcasting it internationally, which he'd seen when their fight took them past an electronics store. Maybe it was the fact that Anansi had killed the congressman Archangel had been guarding, making the winged poster boy of the U.S. Superhuman service look incompetent.

             
Anansi's helmet's internal display predicted the trajectory of the bus and marked it as coming down straight on his head if he didn't move. It marked three routes that he could take to avoid the bus and chances of success involved, plummeting as the fractions of seconds ticked by. It displayed the status of each of his gadgets. Teleportation rig: zero out of five charges remaining, with another minute and ten seconds until the next charge. Displacement field generator: ready. A note popped up that stated it as unable to deflect that much mass, though Anansi knew that already. Chance of survival if he remained still: less than one percent.

             
Of course, there was one problem to just moving.

             
Behind him was a kid, maybe twelve. Short brown hair, blue eyes, and a t-shirt with Archangel's symbol, a pair of white wings connected to a white triangle, looking like the silhouette of an angel without a head. The irony did not escape Anansi. He had been clipped by shrapnel caused by Archangel making a crater trying to flatten Anansi and missing. A brief look had shown bleeding from a cut on the head and that he was dazed. Where he'd come from, Anansi wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to let his fight become the boy's death.

             
Anansi spun, turning his back to the bus, and crouched, gathering the kid's limp form into his arms. He watched the timer until impact ticked down to almost nothing on his display, glancing over his shoulder at the bus. Anansi's display altered, removing the escape routes it had previously displayed as the window of opportunity had closed. A message popped up on the display, asking him if he thought his current course of action would lead to survival, much less safety.

             
“No, but if it works, this is going to look sweet,” Anansi said, his voice contained inside his helmet. 'There could be a problem with me if my super-intelligent artificial intelligence is doubting my sanity,' he thought as he waited for the right second and jumped backwards, aiming for the windshield of the approaching bus.

             
The front fender of the bus hit first, slowing the momentum only slightly as the metal screamed and bent against unyielding concrete, cracking the windshield. Anansi keyed his displacement field generator to overload, causing a bubble of air to harden around him. The bubble, the kid, and Anansi plowed through the cracked windshield, the bubble and the windshield shattering simultaneously. Anansi rolled to a stop inside the bus as it ground to a halt and eventually settled, the noise finally dying out, the kid safe in his arms.

             
Anansi's body armor and shield had taken the brunt of the hit, but the impact had still knocked the wind from him. When he finally caught his breath, he checked the kid. Decent pulse, still breathing. The kid would survive.

             
[News chopper's angle did not catch your entry into the bus. Archangel remains where he threw the bus from. Your survival seems to have passed notice.] The message from his AI, Kay scrolled across the bottom of his view. He could imagine how badly he had just beaten the odds without her telling him. [Recommend you remain here until teleporter recharges and escape.]

             
“He's not going to let us sit here. In a second he could tear into here, looking for us. I've got a better idea.” Anansi set the kid down and stood, turning to walk to the back of the bus.

             
[You can't be serious.] Anansi got the feeling that she was running the numbers on his survival, as well as questioning his sanity again. The incredulity that he could see in her text and feel across their neural link made him smile.

             
“I've got an idea.”

             
[This will never work.]

             
“That's what you thought about the bus.”

             
[>:p]

             
Anansi laughed and unlatched the emergency exit in the back of the bus, then kicked it open. He hopped down to the ground and managed not to stumble on any of the rubble. The look of complete shock on Archangel's perfectly sculpted model face was priceless. Anansi brushed shards of glass off of his shoulder just as the wind picked up, catching the tails of his black duster and causing it to billow like it always does in the movies. Anansi walked to the left for a bit before he dropped into a fighting stance and turned on his helmet's speakers.

             
“Ready for round two?”

             
[You're an idiot, you know that?] Kay said. The countdown until his teleporter completed its recharge had dropped to thirty-five seconds. Archangel gave a wordless roar, his big white wings spreading wide, muscles stretching the fabric of his bodysuit. Yes, he wore tights, and looked like a comic book character in them, complete with the perfect figure.

             
“I like to live dangerously,” Anansi responded in his best horrible Sean Connery impression as Archangel launched himself forward. His display predicted the hero's trajectory and attack, allowing him to start moving before he otherwise would have been able to. Archangel soared harmlessly above Anansi's head as he dropped onto his back. Archangel flew up after about ten yards, soaring skyward before plummeting down back at Anansi. Anansi rolled out of the way, narrowly dodging Archangel's fist as it went halfway to the elbow into the road. As Anansi rolled, he let the stun grenade he had palmed from his belt roll loose, releasing a blast of light and sound that disoriented Archangel. Archangel roared and clutched at his eyes as Anansi stood.

             
“I'm going to rip you apart, you terrorist scum!” Archangel screamed, already seeming to get his senses back. Kay noted that he probably had a bit of regeneration to go along with the flight, speed, strength, and nigh invulnerability. Because just the aforementioned weren't enough. Anansi pulled another grenade core and shell from his belt, slapping the core in and priming the grenade.

             
“Don't remind me,” Anansi muttered to her before keying his speakers again. “You're going to have to catch me first, Captain Faceplant.” Kay sent an emoticon mocking Anansi's witty retort.

             
Whether it was his voice or Archangel catching a glimpse of him, Anansi wasn't sure, but Archangel suddenly swung out with his wings, which both Anansi and Kay had not anticipated. Anansi felt his legs swept out from under him and he landed on the ground, ringing his head on a concrete. Archangel grabbed his leg with one hand, swung him by an ankle, and threw him down the street.

             
[Told you so,] Kay messaged Anansi as he flew through the air. Anansi hit the ground and rolled, bouncing a few times before finally coming to a stop a good hundred yards from where he had started, somehow on his feet. A lance of pain in his shoulder accompanied impact, a note on his display letting him know that it had been broken. Archangel was already charging at him again and he didn't have time to pitch the grenade at the hero before he grabbed Anansi. They flew down the street for a ways before Archangel slammed Anansi into the wall of a building, knocking the breath out of him. Anansi considered that if he were alive in the morning, that was going to hurt. Kay let him know several of his ribs were now broken, as if he couldn't tell by the searing pain when he tried to breathe, and that there was a crack in his helmet. Archangel grabbed him by the collar of his duster and pulled Anansi face to face with him. Anansi noticed that Archangel's lack of a mask made him slightly more intimidating up close and personal when he was pissed off. Anansi also noticed that there was still a bit of blood from the congressman on his face, along with a lot of concrete dust.

             
“Any last words?” Archangel said, pulling back his fist to punch Anansi in the face. As Anansi had seen him punch through concrete, he was pretty sure without asking Kay to check that he could punch through his face and helmet, which he probably was going to, based on his facial expression.

             
[Don't antagonize him.]

             
“Well since you asked,” Anansi said and set the fuse on the grenade in his hand to one second. “What's it like being as dumb as you are?”

             
[Yes, exactly like that.]

             
Archangel snarled. Anansi placed the grenade on his chest, the second already ticking away. Archangel looked down right as it exploded, the shaped charge within doing nothing to his skin, as impervious as it was, but it knocked him back a couple of yards and Anansi from his hand. Anansi slumped to the ground just as the timer for his teleportation rig finished and the final charge turned green. Archangel charged forward, his fist cocked back to punch and aimed for Anansi's face. Anansi flipped Archangel the bird as the world turned to light, ripping Anansi through space and dropping him in a white room.

             
Without the wall behind to support him anymore, Anansi fell completely prone and stared up at the fluorescent lights through the viewscreen of his helmet. A scrolling damage and expenditures assessment coursed across his vision, Kay telling him just how badly he was hurt and how much of his gear was used, lost, or broken. In addition to his ribs and left shoulder, he also had a concussion, a broken left wrist, and a sprained right ankle. His displacement field generator would require replacing, he had a few grenade cores and shells left, all of the plates in his back armor were shattered, and his helmet was going to need some serious repairs.

             
[We should lay low for a while. You have made a powerful enemy in that one.]

             
“Yeah,” Anansi said, wincing at the pain. Several spider-like robots the size of cats crawled over to him and started pulling off his helmet and gear. “I'm thinking that sounds like a good idea. We just killed a congressman, and all. We should go out to the Pacific base.” Anansi's helmet came off and the world went out of focus. His duster went next, followed by his torso armor, leaving behind a black tank top. One of the spider drones stuck a needle into his arm, numbness spreading into his veins. One placed a pair of glasses on his face crookedly. Anansi adjusted them as the drones picked him up and began carrying him from the teleportation room. A green-blue light resolved into the form of a woman wearing a business suit and glasses a lot like his, but more feminine and rounded. She ran a hand through her hair, tied back in a bun, and smiled at him.