A Perfectly Logical Guide to a Superhuman Apocalypse: Chapter 9

A Perfectly Logical Guide to a Superhuman Apocalypse: Chapter 9

…

Wordcount: 2500

Commissioned by Arksoul

…

One of my old survivalist buddies gave me a quote once about good and evil people. He tried to take credit for it, even though the internet still existed back then, and we all gave him shit for trying to make it his… but the message still stuck with me, even though we all agreed to go radio-silent was the wisest course of action.

People who think they’re right never hesitate.

The rest of us brushed it off after giving him shit about it, but I remember it because it made a lot of sense in my line of work.

If you suddenly wake up with powers, how the hell are you ever going to think that you’re in the wrong? In practical terms, even without believing in some superior, spiritual existence, you’ve gone from a regular, run-of-the-mill apex predator of the planet Earth into an apex-predator with powers that can’t be explained. And, even if they could explain your powers, those scientists talking about you and your powers are just normal humans who can’t fly, punch through buildings, or make a block-levelling bomb out of a propane tank and a smartphone.

Practically speaking, if you gained superpowers, you’re going to take it as a sign that you’re in the right, that everything’s supposed to go your way, and anyone against you is wrong.

No one thinks they’re a villain.

Everyone thinks they’re the hero.

Not a single person with powers will hesitate to get rid of someone in their way.

The only way to make them listen is with force, by making it clear that they weren’t the protagonist of Earth, and that there were rules that needed to be followed and consequences to be exacted. Thousands of years of societal progress deteriorated when violence was no longer controlled solely by governments, but by select individuals through chance, and so humanity was sent careening back to the days where might makes right.

The strongest person, who can inflict the most violence, was the one who set the rules.

So, as I prepared to meet one of my fellow superhumans, I didn’t hesitate to be the person who set the rules.

…

The pilot of the rotor-based aircraft wore a flight suit like those worn in WW2. Leather, lined with fur, and a bulky oxygen mask all specifically tailored for him. He left his craft through an armored side-door, which he used as cover as he pointed a large rifle with a glowing barrel at me, as the drones escorting his craft surged forth with their gas engines to encircle me.

The Kali-themed, three-armed, and blue gynoid I had at my mercy stirred. What “fear” it had was gone with the order called out by its hacker.

It was the typical power-play, first-meeting bullshit between two people with powers.

Unfortunately for the teen coming out of the aircraft, I had more experience with handling other superhumans that he did.

I appeared next to him, in his aircraft, just as the gynoid lurched at me, while the gas-turbined, rotor-drones with machine-guns circled where I was. The hand that I had free, without a hand grenade in it, I placed on his shoulder.  He froze, the gynoid stopped moving, and so did the drones.

That was a good sign, especially since I was ready to move again.

It was always nice to finish a fight in one move, before anyone got hurt.

Anyway, I spoke to the kid.

“Stay. Depower weapon. Don’t get hurt.” My Hindi was rusty, but it was more likely that the kid spoke it instead of English. This place was far from the coasts, where India connected with the rest of the world, so it was unlikely that he knew English. I did my best to keep my sentences simple and curt. “Have questions. You answer.”

I looked for any sigh of resistance, for the kid to try something stupid like try and turn his gun at me, despite the fact his cover was now blocking the way because of the weapon’s long barrel.

I recognized the design a bit, since pattern-recognition still worked even with superhuman brains bending physics over a barrel. It was a rifle modified with a conversion barrel. It was a nasty weapon that could turn any bullet passing through it into speeding, highly-energized particles. All the mass and speed of a bullet, surrounded by superheated gasses, and held together by some device that could make any normal scientists quit their jobs forever. I knew some barrel-conversions that integrated with scopes and let the firer guide bullets through their scope, which was scary, but also really, really sick.

Well, as cool as the gun was, it was pointed where I wasn’t, so it didn’t matter.

The kid struggled to speak for a bit, probably because he thought he was going to die, but he managed to get the right word out.

“Okay.” He spoke in English, much to my surprise, and depowered his weapon and lowered it slowly. It was a bit awkward to go down along with him, but I understood it would be stupid to just drop a high-tech piece of weaponry. He raised his hands “You will speak and I will listen.”

I was on a timetable, so I just kept my hand on him while asking him questions.

No need for this situation to devolve into something headache inducing.

“I need information on Shiva. I want him dead. Tell me what you know.”

The kid stiffened at that.

“I don’t wish to die.” He meant it too. His pulse quickened and he stiffened up expecting to be hurt when he said it. The warzone that was India’s inner territories bred the newest generation tough. “Please, don’t kill me—

I cut him off.

“I don’t know your name. I don’t who you are. No one will trace me to you. You barely know how I do what I do, so tell me what you know.” I insisted on my question firmly. I was coercing him for information that would get him killed, but it was true that it would be very difficult for anyone to figure out a connection between this kid, me, and Shiva after I was done. “Besides, I have more than what you’ve seen. I’ve killed my fair share of warlords. Point the way and Shiva dies, while you go on with your life.”

The kid hesitated, wondering if I could keep up my part of the bargain, but he didn’t say it because he knew he didn’t have any bargaining power. I needed to encourage him that I wasn’t bullshitting, that I could kill Shiva, or he might lie and risk running away from me until his lie is found out.

So, I committed to my oldest trick to get people like him to just do what I ask.

“I see that you think I can’t do it. Well, then, grit your teeth, because you’re going for a wild ride, kid.” I’ve done this more than a dozen times to convince some hotshot, young mercenary to follow my lead. It was always good to rip the rug from under them, before they got themselves killed thinking they were immortal. A lot of the guys and gals I worked with in the past retired after they made bank too, because they knew that they needed to get out of dodge before meeting someone like me, but less nice. “Ready? One, two, three!”

“Wait, no!”

Too late.

Operation: Around the world in ten seconds is go!

…

The kid fell flat on his ass after his experience and leaned against the cargo module of his transport. He struggled to catch his breath and ripped off the breathing apparatus from his helmet. The kid had a pretty plain face, but his nose was surprisingly sharp, and his skin lighter than I expected. Some slick euro-trash superhuman must’ve been a bit too drunk for a few nights and passed more than he intended around. Well, if you had godly powers, you ended up indulging in godly pastimes. Rockstars and Hollywood superstars did it without repercussion and they didn’t have superpowers.

But back to the situation at hand.

“Shiva isn’t in India. He went to Nepal and hasn’t been seen since. He just sends out his forces to try and conquer India there.” The kid managed to sit up straight and regain control of his breathing. I waited patiently while his rotored, sputtering drones started coming forward along with the Kali-themed gynoid. He held his hand up at them and they stopped. “We intercept his forces and use them after hacking them. Their energy signatures are easy to detect.”

“What do they run on? Do I need to worry about fallout?”

I wasn’t worried about radiation for my sake. My defenses were more than capable of sending that stuff away before it hurt me. However, I wasn’t going to be irradiating anyplace if I could help it. I might live across the world, but I wasn’t keen on spreading radiation on the only biosphere where humans can exist without much problems.

“They run off of transmitted power. Very stable, but impossible to withdraw from the unit. We think he has a cold-fusion reactor that he uses to charge his automata.” The kid clambered up, leaning on his transport, and he flattened himself against it when I raised my hand to put it on his shoulder again. “No! Please. I learned my lesson. There is no need for anymore of… whatever you did!”

I appreciated someone being properly afraid of me for a moment, before getting on with my day.

“So, he took to the highest point on earth, so that he can beam energy anywhere?”

“Yes. He tried to take over the old rocket launch sites, but he was stopped by a coalition, then they destroyed the site and rocket facilities. When India learns of his movements, the whole continent comes together to stop him.” The young man calmed down when I lowered my hand. A glance towards the gynoid and the robots had him shutting them down quickly. “But he has many friends. Some think that he is India’s only hope at unification. They will come after anyone who kills him.”

“Well, I live in America, so I’d like to see them try.” I teleported to the nearest tree and gave a few knocks just so I didn’t jinx myself. “Anyway, I don’t plan on sticking around here. I only came to see if I few people I knew were alive and find a weapon dealer. The people I know are dead and I’m sure I can get some choice things from Shiva before he dies.”

Mad scientists tended to leave a lot of their shit locked to them, and I was sure that Shiva’s base was rigged to blow when he died, but India had plenty of mad scientists who’d be willing to unlock what I got my hands on. Deadman switches were good insurance policies if you could risk other people’s lives, for someone who could teleport away with whatever he wanted, that shit wasn’t worth it.

Anyway, mentioning America seemed to catch the kid’s attention.

“America? Is that land not broken? How do you live there?” His English took a hit with his surprise, but I understood him well enough to answer.

“It’s pretty fucked, yeah. I have to live pretty carefully.” I was both overstating and understating things. The towns I found in America were recovering quickly. Even after getting hit by a few nukes and enduring a shit ton of fighting, America was still massive and had stupid amounts of natural resources. Everything anyone could possibly need was there. I took a seat and looked a bit around the old battlefield and shrugged. “Probably 90% of people died, but the communities popping up are getting things up and running quickly.”

The communities being set up were booming. I saw a law of kids everywhere and there was plenty of medicine and food being stockpiled. Plumping and other utilities were also available, while a lot of people working agriculture were back to popping out kids as free labor for a few decades. Not only that, but Anderson was all about being fruitful and multiplying, while Walker had always been a romantic to a fault, so she wouldn’t go out of her way to discourage people from getting it on. Population was going to explode eventually, if the two sides didn’t come to blows, and even if they did the winner’ll have their population boom amplified by being victorious.

Boomers MK2.

Wait a minute, now that I thought about it, wasn’t I looking for someone to hire to work for me and build deadly shit?

“Are you interested in coming over and working for me? Lots of scrap around there, lots of geniuses willing to collaborate, and a lot less warlords.” That was because most of the warlords were getting their shit kicked in by my Ex and Maelstrom, but I didn’t mention that to the kid. The kid was surprised by the offer, but I could tell that he still recalled his ten-second trip across the world, so I put it aside. “Yeah, you’re afraid of me now, but think about it this way: you’ll be working for me and I can just drop you off back here if you quit. Think about it, while I go and find a way to stop the world from ending again.”

I shrugged as the kid struggled to find the words he wanted to say and left him there to return to my bunker. After a bit of searching, I found my old maps in a drawer, and picked up some oxygen tanks and rebreather while going back home to get the gear necessary to function as a human being on the Himalayas.

I can find him later.

For now, I had robot apocalypse to stop.