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It had probably been years since Zoey had needed to figure out how to do a costume change in a public area. She felt out of practice.
She was also a little impressed with the number of criminals involved. Six Trolls, their skin olive-to-green in tone and transformed to rock in differing amounts, patrolled around the hostages, including her. Most of those Trolls were armed with shotguns, but two of them had assault rifles, just to mix things up. Six Trolls wasn't many, but definitely enough to be very dangerous for the average person. Moreover, Trolls didn't take orders well and had a tendency to rebel against leaders, often physically, so having six operating reasonably smoothly was a vote of confidence for their organizer.
"Trolls", of course, was a colloquialism, and something of a pejorative. Halcyon City locals used it to indicate those who were affected by the drug superadine, an illicit derivative of the drug hyperadine. Some people — not all, but enough — when exposed to different levels of superadine, were transformed by the drug to varying degrees. They would end up taller, broader, stronger, and with green-toned skin, jagged teeth, sharp stone protrusions or armor, and rarely, a mutant-like power granting some control over the earth element. Some superadine users, of course, were horrified by the transformation. Others revelled in it.
At the time the Trolls had entered the bank, Zoey had been in the manager's office at the back, so she couldn't be certain what had happened. Regardless of the specifics, though, the two unconscious security guards, bound by stone manacles to back-to-back sturdy wooden chairs that had been dragged into the center of the atrium, made the outcome pretty clear.
The Troll's leader had identified himself as Rant, and didn't seem to be a superadine user himself. He was just a little short, but the Troll's increased stature exaggerated that fact, so that he looked particularly small standing next to them. He wore black denim pants, and a denim jacket and black shirt, with his dark hair in a crew cut and a plain black domino mask. It seemed inappropriate to mention it to him at this time, but he had absolutely lovely light-blue eyes. On his left hand, he wore a heavy-looking clean-white tech gauntlet, with a glowing power gauge on the back – currently heavily in the green.
Zoey had become aware of the break-in when Rant had stormed the back office, flanked by two trolls with shotguns. Rave's gauntlet gave off a menacing hum, as he'd directed Mr. Ashcroft and Zoey up to the front of the bank. Despite her own secret identity as the superhero Fantisma, Zoey was forced to play along; there had been no opportunity to change into her costume without being seen.
By the time Zoey got to the lobby, the Trolls had already gathered the remaining bank workers, and the rest of the patrons. The hostages gathered in the middle of the lobby, halfway between the back wall, and the arch that lead out to the atrium. The Founder's Falls bank was quite upscale, and father than simple teller's wickets, the lobby of the bank held ten "office booths", five on either side, separated by thin half-walls for the semblance of privacy. The center of the lobby was dominated by two long, marble tables, set atop hard-carved mahogany legs.
With Zoey and Mr. Ashcroft brought out from the back, the Trolls began, with grunts and gestures, to arrange the hostages into two lines, one along either side of the granite tables. Mr. Ashcroft, and his assistant Ms. Keith, had attempted to position themselves between the Trolls and Zoey during this process. It was an effort Zoey appreciated, even if it was fruitless.
Now standing alongside the other hostages, with her sunglasses and hat off, Zoey could feel their eyes occasionally searching her face, and she registered some amount of recognition from most of them. From across the marble tables, Mr. Ashcroft was trying to hold eye contact with her, probably to reassure her, even though he actually looked a bit peaked himself. The richest woman Halcyon City had just been taken hostage at his bank. Still, hardly his fault.
With the guards subdued, and hostages managed, Rant, standing by the back wall, seemed to be waiting for something. The two Trolls with assault rifles — his lieutenants — flanked him, as the four Trolls with shotguns patrolled in front of the hostages.
Zoey sighed. Her clutch, containing her phone and her vape, had been confiscated, along with everyone else's personal possessions. It sat on one of the marble tables that ran along the center of the room. In her head, Zoey did a head-count, again; eleven employees, two unconscious security guards, and nine patrons — plus six Trolls and Rant. Oh, ten patrons, actually, counting herself. What was the response time on twenty-three hostages, in Halcyon City? At least a few minutes, and that was assuming Sam had already called it in. Could Zoey take six Trolls, single handed? Obviously. But the real question was, could she do it before somebody else got shot playing hero, and without revealing that she was the superhero Fantisma?
Unclear.
As one of the Trolls, carrying his shotgun across his body, walked past her, Zoey asked loudly, "Is this gonna take long?"
The Troll paused, and turned to look at her. She continued, "It's only that I'd booked a table? At Vanguard's?" She paused for effect, and when the Troll stared at her in grumpy confusion, she added, "For lunch?" making sure to exaggerate her vocal fry. The Troll's brows furrowed, as he gave a low growl, and looked towards Rant, at the back of the room. Rant sneered.
"What'd she ask?", Rant asked, raising his voice.
"Oh, sorry, Mister, uh, Rant," Zoey said, stepping out of the line in front of the Troll. She heard the other hostages murmur, surprised at Zoey's audacity, and afraid of the consequences. "It's just — I don't want to be a bother, but — I have a lunch reservation? The Governor. He's flying in to meet with me. It's not supposed to be a whole thing, you know. But, like, can't really keep the Governor waiting, either, right? It's kind of a bad look." Zoey exaggeratedly adjusted her blazer, and made a show of dusting off the arm. "Oh, phoo. Look at that. Is that mustard?", she said, showing the sleeve — with no obvious mark — to the baffled Troll beside her.
Uncertain, he examined it, and shrugged, noncommittally, before looking back to Rant for guidance. "Anyway," Zoey continued. "No big, didn't mean to bother you, Mr. Rant. Obviously, you seem busy, just, you know ...", she made a revolving motion with her hands. "Looking to ... wrap this up." As she said it, she maneuvered her hands like tugging the loops of a bow.
She let her statement hang a moment. Rant was — as she'd hoped — stunned by her audacity. The more attention on me, the less on everybody else, she thought. "So … Timeline? You know?" She pointed at the bejewelled timepiece on her arm.
Rant took a step forward, as the two Trolls flanking him lowered their assault rifles, but he held up his left hand to them; the was an audible thrum of power from the gauntlet. Rant snorted. "I'm sorry … Mrs?"
"Miss, please. Da Costa. Zoey Da Costa. Yes, that Zoey; yes, that Da Costa. I'd … sign something for you, but — I don't actually have my pen ..." Theatrically, she felt at her pockets. Mr. Ashcroft's hand instinctively went to the outer pocket of his blazer. Zoey suppressed a chuckle. "Yeah, uh, anyway. Like I said, you seem busy with the bank robbery? And I totally get that, but if we could wrap this up, I'd -"
Rant laughed. He tried to make it sound cruel, but he definitely didn't have the practice, or the genuine malice, to succeed. "You?", he shook his head. "You're Zoey Da Costa. Right." He took a few paces forward; every time his arm moved the gauntlet through the air, it hummed like a laser sword. Zoey wasn't too afraid of Rave hitting her; her demonic powers would probably reduce the impact to something akin to a heavy, fast-moving pillow. But she was becoming very confident she couldn't afford to give Rant the chance to hit anybody else with that thing. "You're Zoey Da Costa, of Da Costa Finance. And you just happen to be … in the bank, in Founder's Falls. On a Thursday morning. Just … chilling?"
"Hey, rich people gotta sign stuff," Zoey countered, putting as much condescension and boredom into each syllable as it could hold. "I mean. Check my phone. Check my insta. Oh! My Rolls is outside. Ask Howie; sorry, Mr. Ashcroft. No, actually, don't ask him. He doesn't look well. Ask his assistant, Ms. Keith." Ms Keith nodded, right on queue, but Mr. Ashcroft's mouth bobbed like that of a fish, as he stared at Zoey, gobsmacked by her audacity — exactly the effect she was hoping for. Buy time, keep thinking, work the problem, she thought. Sam, outside the bank, was presumably doing the same thing.
"It's true. She's moving some money to a charitable -" Ms. Keith started, before Rant forcibly pointed at her, and his gauntlet growled, like a nest of angry hornets. Rant sneered at Ms Keith, and she gasped, lowering her eyes and raising her hands over her head. Zoey took that moment to take a step back, closer to archway out to the atrium at the front of the room, and further away from everybody else, before recapturing Rant's attention.
"See? Just dumb money stuff. Phbbt," Zoey gave the razzberry. "I just sign what the accountants tell me to sign," She lied, shrugging. "Anyway. Where were we on that timeline?" Pull him out. Get him away from the hostages. Get him to close with me, threaten me.
"Rant!" came a voice from behind Zoey, across the atrium. It's high pitch seemed extremely familiar to Zoey. "Who's this bitch?"
Rant looked past Zoey, to watch whomever had just entered. Following his gaze would require taking her eyes off Rant, but not looking wouldn't be very in character. Fuck. Plus, Zoey was kind of dying to see who it was. She swivelled her whole body, and looked.
The newcomer, walking across the atrium towards the archway connecting to the lobby, was stunning. Whomever she was, she either wore a skintight suit in brilliant hues, or possibly was wearing body paint; either way, it accentuated her statuesque body perfectly. Her outfit was a rainbow of brilliant splashes of colour, swirls, and polka-dots, achieving a balance between a retro-sixties and 2000s club-kid look. Giant pink star earrings and an array of candy necklaces accented the look; her strawberry blonde hair, with blue and pink tips, tumbled in waves down past her shoulders. She possessed both cheekbones to die for, and her eyes were shimmering purple.
"Woah," Zoey heard herself say. The colourful woman remained somehow familiar, but Zoey couldn't place her. Whomever she was, she had a talent with making an entrance. Zoey tore her eyes off the woman to glance to the bank's exterior windows, to see if the police had arrived, but the windows were covered in colourful, spinning spirals and vibrant polka-dots that swirled, melted, and danced into each other. Right; add that to the list of problems.
"Rave -", Rant started. Oh, Rant & Rave, that's cute, Zoey thought. Then Rave squealed.
"Oh. My. GOD," Rave called, her feet tapping rapidly in place, her platforms echoing on the tile floor of the atrium. "No way. No way! You're actually her. You're Zoey Da Costa!", she said, trotting towards Zoey, her arms outstretched as if for a hug. The crowd murmured again; the Trolls tried to look threatening to impose order, but the situation was — as Zoey had hoped — escalating out of their control.
Zoey intended to allow Rave to hug her, but the multicoloured master criminal ended up only sort of gesturing towards a hug, and avoiding direct contact. With her platforms, she was about eight inches taller than Zoey, and from up close, Zoey could definitely tell it was body paint (probably). It seemed to swirl and move on the surface of her skin, though, but it wasn't spandex. Probably.
"Honestly, inspiration," Rave continued. "We've met, years ago. Not, like — this, obviously. Ooo, secret identity!" Zoey kept her eyes wide, and tried to maintain eye contact, but Rave was bouncing, and wobbling back and forth, and jiggling, and when combined with her swirling costume, it made focusing on her eyes challenging. "Oh, God. I love your style!" Rave slipped fingers under the lapel of Zoey's suit. "This jacket is power. You're absolutely slaying."
"Aww, thank you!", Zoey responded, as she felt a fizzy, bubbling sensation tingling around the edges of her mind. It was like her thoughts had been drinking Champagne. Her demonic pact allowed Zoey to resist all but the strongest mental attacks. While Rave's psychic strength was considerable, it wasn't sufficient to entirely overwhelm Zoey's mind. But, even if she wasn't entirely affected, Rave's psionics were still likely to have some effect. Zoey giggled at the thought, then forced a cough, and then giggled again. "I love your costume, too. You must work out. You're gorgeous," she said, lifting a hand to stroke Rave's arm, before Rave stepped back, out of the way.
Rave, still smiling at Zoey, sighed and addressed one of the Trolls. "Right. So she's handled. Take her watch, but be gentle; that's probably worth a couple million on its own." Zoey glanced down at her Cartier watch, her mind trying to work despite the bubbles in her brain. Rave had to come from privilege herself; your typical bank robber probably wouldn't noted the Cartier watch so specifically. Zoey's mind roiled, going through her list of acquaintances — purple eyes — as she gave an exaggerated goofy smile, and undid her watch. Better to hand it over, and keep the Troll's thick, cumbersome fingers from breaking it.
Rave walked on, past both of them, into the lobby. "Rant, baby, why haven't you opened the vault for me yet?" Her voice became a whine, with the high notes that could make dogs howl. "You said you could open it, no problem! I want those bearer bonds! They're mine and I want them!" She stomped her foot, and stuck her lip out in a pout.
Jesus, Zoey thought. Tell me I don't sound like that. "That's not very nice," Zoey called across the room at Rant, ramping up her own vocal fry. "You better go open that vault for her!"
"Baby, I was gonna open the vault, I swear, but then she started talking -" The gauntlet hummed, as Rant indicated Zoey with a gesture.
"Oh, so now she's more important than me, huh? Is that it?", Rave hissed, indicating Zoey with a gesture. Zoey fought not to laugh, and Rant already looked exhausted. The experience was delectably awful. Zoey had heard the expression, "never meet your heroes", but she didn't think that was supposed to be a warning for the heroes.
"Now, Rant. You get back there, and you 👏 Get 👏 That 👏 Vault 👏 Open 👏 For 👏 Me," Rave commanded, accenting each word with a clap. After a pause, she added a loud, high-pitched, "Nee-oow!", for emphasis.
The bubbles in Zoey's mind were rapidly progressing towards a headache. Jesus Christ; if the bullets could kill me I think I'd ask one of the Trolls to take the shot, Zoey thought.
She surveyed the situation from where she was. Three Trolls, plus Rant, were at the back of the lobby, while Rave and the three other Trolls were closer to Zoey, near archway into atrium. The hostages were still in lines on either side of the lobby, separated by the heavy marble tables. Head count! Eleven employees, eight patrons. Oh, nine patrons. Wait, nine? Nine, counting her, or nine others? Fuck. The bubbles in her mind played havoc with her memory. It was definitely supposed to be ten patrons. Probably. So who was missing? Bald Guy, Skirt Lady, Programmer Dude, and Karen Hair Lady were all still here ...
Rave was crossing to the back of the lobby now, and instructed the Trolls to get the hostages on their knees. On their knees! God damn it, that woman really was the worst. And Zoey still couldn't place her.
Focus! Zoey chastised herself. Count hostages. Nice Shoes, Tattoo Hands, Obvious Wine Aunt were all still in line, and getting on their knees —
Her efforts to account for all the hostages were suddenly cut short, as an eight-foot dark-blue mech suit came hurtling into the bank through the front window.
In less than an instant, a flood of brilliantly coloured light sprayed into the room, alongside broken glass, as the massive mechanical suit spiralled through the room. The hostages screamed, and went diving into the offices for cover, as the Trolls roared. Zoey heard the rattle of one of the assault rifles; the bullets went plink plink plink, ricocheting harmlessly off the mech's armor.
Great. Fucking amateur hour has started, Zoey thought.
In the chaos, Zoey took the risk, and gestured, and the two massive granite tables from the middle of the room flipped onto their sides and slid across the room, coming between the hostages and the spiralling robot. Bullets that had bounced harmlessly off the mech's armour still had the potential to be every bit as fatal as an aimed shot when they ricocheted; hell, maybe more. Zoey was confident — well, fairly confident, at least — that the tables flipping would be put down by everyone present as part of the sheer anarchy of the robot's sudden entrance. For half an instant, Zoey considered taking the opportunity to change into Fantisma, but then, of course, Zoey wouldn't be present any longer, right after making such a show of herself. Fuck — great planning ahead, Zoey thought, shaking her head.
Hey — that robot isn't under control, Zoey noticed, as the tall mech suit collided haphazardly with the back wall of the bank. The Trolls moved in, to engage with the seemingly stunned robot. From the far side of the atrium, a chunk of ice, roiling with mist like a comet in microcosm, hurdled through the room, and struck one of the Trolls in the back, and knocking him to the ground, as ice expanded to cover it's green skin. Zoey turned, to see where the ice-ball had come from.
A woman with a tight blue-and-white costume was standing in the center of the atrium. The bound security guards, still bound to their chairs, had been pushed aside, for their safety. The new hero was athletic, young — Jesus, they get younger every year — and surrounded by a pale mist, as if she was made of ice on the verge of melting.
"Freeze, thieves," the young hero intoned, her lip curled up into a smirk. Zoey suppressed both a chuckle and an eye roll.
"Well, well ... heroes," Rant started, his voice betraying a hint of eagerness. "It's too bad you're too late to ..."
Rave snapped her fingers to interrupt. "Waste 'em," she commanded. The Troll's guns began to fire.
Zoey dove from the lobby into the atrium, and then scampered along the floor, so that she could press her back to the wall separating the two rooms. She wasn't at risk if she got shot, but it might get hard to explain why she didn't seem very impeded by a bullet wound. She couldn't see the other hostages from where she was; they had also gone for cover, in the little offices. That meant she didn't have an accurate headcount, and whoever the hero in blue was, she wouldn't, either. And, Zoey was somewhat confident she'd misplaced one of the hostages. But, that might be the psionics talking. She snorted, and caught herself before laughing.
There was a 16-foot wide warzone between Zoey and the offices. The young hero had an broad, thick ice-shield floating in front of her, absorbing gunfire, and she'd created an ice slick on the floor of the atrium. She was skillfully sliding and leaping along the low-friction surface, going quickly from hiding behind the walls, to firing ice shards and snowballs at the Trolls. The five remaining Trolls would fire back from their shotguns and assault rifles, but the ice shield remained sturdy as, step by step, they closed in on the archway into the atrium. Zoey stole glances around the arch, into the lobby. She considered hurling the heavy tables, crushing the Trolls. Maybe she could smash the walls of the offices, and leave the Trolls more exposed? Though, either move might expose the hidden hostages to danger, or reveal her abilities …
With the ice-powers that were being flung around, the air in the two rooms had gotten significantly colder. Zoey inhaled. It wasn't going to be her finest moment, but it would, hopefully, put an end to the firefight. She prepared to give a high-pitched shriek, like a scared little girl ... but was interrupted by a mechanical whine, and a grinding sound.
"Halt!", a mechanical voice declared, from the lobby. "Cease your actions, or I will ..."
"Marshal!" Zoey heard the hero in blue yell, concern heavy in her voice. "Don't! Override! Defensive ..."
Zoey heard a thunderous ka-doom, and a horrible, terrified scream of pain. The plaster along the walls cracked, and chunks fell to the floor; Zoey felt her body shudder, and her organs trembling in place. She fought down a wave of nausea, and there was a moment of silence.
"Oh." said Rant, gulping. His voice trembled. "There ... I think there was a person in that." He spoke the words into poignant silence. He sounded stunned. Zoey heard the hero in blue dry heave in response. Zoey looked over, and the young hero was down on her hands and knees, clutching her stomach. She stole another look around the corner. Several of the Trolls were down, but the robot suit, still embedded in the wall, was also half-folded around itself with Rant's fist-print obvious on it's chest.
Oh, Jesus, these kids. Zoey inhaled. She wasn't sure she was willing to let people get killed to keep her secret. Her thoughts were still bubbling; floating up and popping. She needed an idea she could hold onto.
"Alright!", Rave said, clapping twice. "Now that that's over … get her." Her tone seemed unsettlingly unaffected, as she commanded the Trolls.
Three of the Trolls were out of action; one had been neutralized as the ice-hero made her entrance, and chunks of ice had struck a second, right in the face. A third had slipped, fallen on his face, and not gotten up. But now, the hero in blue was dry heaving, tears streaming down her face, as one of the three remaining Trolls was moving towards her, his face a snarl, shotgun at his side.
"I - I think, uh, I should try to -" Rant started, hesitant, as if unable to shake his imagined vision of the robot suit's mangled user, still trapped inside.
"Rant, baby, come on," whined Rave. "Don't get squeamish now. You just did what you had to do, for me. How were you supposed to know the dumb robot was just a suit?" Zoey heard Rave's heels clack on the tile, as she closed in on Rave. She could visualize Rave touching Rant — probably to re-enforce her psionic influence. "Now. Don't you want me to be happy? Take the troll, and both of you get back there and get me my bearer bonds."
"My bearer bonds," Zoey noted. Hmm. She inhaled, and held her breath for a beat, trying to focus. Her butt sat on the cool tiles. The back of her head pressed against the wall, and she rubbed her temples. Calm. Focus. She could use the tables, right? They were heavy enough that they could clobber the Trolls, and if she was fast enough, maybe she could get Rant before he …
A heavy boot thumped beside her, and she stared at it for a moment. She looked up, and there was a Troll, holding a shotgun; it wasn't pointed at her, but it was at the ready. The Troll gave a low, threatening snarl.
"Oh, God," Zoey said, giving an exaggerated roll of her eyes, and deliberately whinging. "How much longer is this going to take?" She reached up, and took hold of one of the Troll's stone protrusions, and used it to pull herself up. Looking up at him, she asked, "Honestly, this is exhausting. May I be excused?" There was a brief moment of confusion on the Troll's face, and he glanced back at Rave.
"Hey hey hey!", Rave called, snapping her fingers. "You! Don't listen to her! Bring her back here. For fucks sake!" More quietly, she added, "My God, you really can't trust them with anything."
The Troll's thick fingers grabbed Zoey's upper arm, and he hauled her from the atrium back to the lobby. As Zoey trotted along beside the Troll, she could see Rant and the third Troll, the last one with an assault rifle, heading down the hall towards the bank's vault. Zoey looked back and forth, trying to count hostages quickly, but could only locate fifteen of them, hiding in the little offices. The others, hopefully, were better at hiding. If Zoey and the frosty hero could keep their wits about them — stay cool, heh — they could get the hostages out of this, still.
Glass shards snapped under Zoey's feet as she was hauled toward Rave. The rainbow-coloured villain, however, wasn't waiting for Zoey's arrival; she was already glaring at the blue-and-white ice hero before her. The hero's arm was firmly held by a Troll, and was looking down at the ground, despondent. As Zoey got closer to Rave, she felt the bubbles in her brain forming and popping ever more quickly.
The blue-suited hero cleared her throat. "He needs help," she stated, nodding towards the mech suit. Her voice still had a light warble, but her focus was returning.
Rave was smirking. "Well. If his robot breaks that easily, maybe he shouldn't have tried to stop our bank robbery," Rave said, snidely. "So who are you supposed to be? Ice Princess? Miss Freeze?"
"Wow, you are such a bitch," Zoey thought, only to find the ice hero looked at her in shock, as Rave looked at her with her eyes wide with surprise and anger. "Oh. Shit. That was out loud, huh?" Zoey added.
The blue hero extended an arm, to between Zoey and Rave, and set her jaw, as she then moved her body to be in the space between the two. Courage and defiance. Zoey was starting to be impressed with this youngster. "I'm Sublimation. That's Marshal. Now, you've got us, and Miss Da Costa. That's plenty." Then, snorted, smiled, and bit her lip to contain a laugh. Rave's psionics are working on her, too, Zoey thought. "Like — why don't you let the rest of your hostages go?" Sublimation added, trying to sound serious, despite the psionics' intoxicating effect.
Smooth, Zoey thought, and nodded lightly in approval, adding, "Yeah." Then she nodded again, more forcefully. "Actually, yeah," Zoey agreed. "Listen — whatever you think you're getting from those bearer bonds …"
From further back in the bank, there was another ka-doom that made Zoey's teeth rattle in her skull. The walls rattled, the plaster cracked, and Marshal's metal body whined. From the other side of the back wall came a horrendous shriek of metal twisting against metal; the sound of the door of the safe folding in on itself under Rant's assault.
The sound caused Rave to wince, at first, but then to smile; the delight of a barracuda scenting blood in the water. "Hear that? That's the sound of a hundred million dollars in bearer bonds, coming home to me." She gestured to the Trolls. "Watch them. If they try to run? Shoot them." Rave turned, and hurried towards the back of the bank, shouting, "Baby, I heard! It's open?!"
The Troll escorting Sublimation pumped his shotgun, and aimed it square at her midsection, but the one watching over Zoey just put a heavy hand on her shoulder. It was down to two Trolls in the lobby. This was the best chance; it was time to act. Zoey put on a pout, and crossed her arms. "Hey! Why does she get a gun aimed at her?", she demanded.
Sublimation snorted, and covered her mouth. Shaking her head and clearing her throat, she turned her head towards Zoey, fighting an uncomfortable smile. "Miss Da Costa, I don't think -", she started, before her eyes met Zoey's. Using a quick glance, and nod, Zoey indicated the Troll beside her. Sublimation looked alarmed, and shook her head. Zoey nodded her head towards Marshal … and, swallowing, Sublimation nodded.
Immediately after the exchange, Sublimation gestured outward, with both hands; one toward her Troll, and the other toward the floor beneath Zoey's. Ice coated the end of the shotgun aimed at Sublimations's midsection, thickening rapidly, and the ground beneath Zoey's feet turned into a sheet of ice. Zoey reacted before her Troll; she dropped down, then kicked herself back — and used her power of flight to give herself an extra push backwards, all the way into one of the offices.
The Troll assigned to Zoey slipped on the ice-slick floor, as Sublimation kicked her own Troll, fiercely, grabbing him by the tattered shirt, and trying to use his weight and momentum against him. Now having slipped away, Zoey prepared to transform into Fantisma, when she noted a sixteenth hostage, tucked snugly into the corner of the wicket. He wore a blue suit, and brown hair, with his arms tightly hugging his legs. The hostage winced and whimpered as Zoey shot past him.
Zoey stared a moment at the man unexpectedly sharing her hidey-hole, and felt her lips tighten. She grunted in frustration behind them, hoping he didn't hear. "It's okay," Zoey hissed, reminding and reassuring herself as much as the hostage. She held a hand out towards him. "There's heroes here now! They seem, uh …" Zoey hesitated, looking for a way to reassure her fellow hostage. "Well, she seems pretty good!"
There was a muffled whump, and Zoey heard a Troll roar in pain and anger, and then two heavy thumps, followed by the dull thud of a heavy Troll falling to the ground.
"Whoops," Zoey said, smirking. She winked at the civilian. They didn't appear to relax. Zoey pulled herself up, and peeked over the low wall of the office.
The two Trolls were down, and Sublimation had moved over to Marshal's damaged armor, motionless and slightly embedded in the back wall. Her hand tested the armor, fingers exploring the fist-shaped indentation that was at the center of the fold.
"Sorry," Zoey called, "Hi, Sublimation? Hi? Hi. Hello, everybody! Hi," Zoey said, trotting in an exaggerated fashion, splashing her feet on the wet carpet as it soaked up the melting ice. She waved lightly at the other hostages as they came out from under cover, then motioned at all of them as she added, "Yeah, uh, you all need to go."
As if in response to Zoey's statement, another thunderous ka-doom echoed from the back room, and Zoey felt the fluid in her ears tremble, and her eyes twitch. Marshal's body rattled in place, stuck in the wall, and more metallic shrieks ripped through the building's walls. The other hostages squealed; individually or in pairs, they began heading for the bank doors. Mr. Ashcroft slipped out of one of the offices, looked to Zoey, and extended his hand to escort her out of the building, and she waved him off, continuing to look through the hostages possessions, scattered on the floor when Zoey tipped up the heavy tables. "Ms Da Costa, you should go. There's still two vill -", Sublimation started.
Zoey inhaled. "Are you not understanding me?", Zoey poked a purse with her foot, pushing it aside. "You need to get out of here, too. Rant and Rave — yeah, I know — are back there, and she, at least, is not fucking around. You and Marshal — aha!" Zoey paused, and held her clutch aloft, displaying it like a trophy. "You and Marshal, and all the other hostages, are leaving. There … is … a …", Zoey's speech stumbled, as she searched her clutch. She smiled broadly as she pulled out her glittering silver compact, displaying the ZDC engraved on the back in golden lettering. "Ah, good. Okay. There is a silver Rolls Royce …"
"Ms Da Costa." Sublimation pulled herself up. She was four inches taller than Zoey, even though Sublimation was wearing flats. Zoey stopped, and blinked, as the younger hero succeeded at slowing her roll. "I am not leaving this bank. And I'm not leaving you in this bank," she added, pointing at Zoey. Zoey nodded. Honestly, Sublimation's assertiveness was impressive. Zoey had steamrolled her way past considerable resistance before, but Sublimation had recovered her confidence admirably. Zoey made a mental note to keep an eye on Sublimation's career after this. She nodded, and then turned back towards the office she'd briefly hidden in, as Sublimation continued talking. "Frankly, Ms. Da Costa, you should consider getting out of — Ms. Da Costa, I -"
Zoey pulled the blue-suited man, still hiding in the corner of the office, up to his feet, and forcefully handed over her compact, with three hundred dollar bills. She grabbed his head in both her hands. "Listen. There is a silver Rolls Royce, half a block north of the bank. The driver is probably waiting by the car. His name is Sam. You keep the cash, and give Sam the compact. Tell him Zoey said five minutes, at the bank's back door." Sublimation opened her mouth, intending to object, and Zoey held up a finger at her, and shook her head. "There's no time," Zoey countered, as she gave the man a push towards the door. Sublimation nodded, as Zoey adjusted her jacket, and smoothed her pants.
"When I go back there, this has the potential to get dangerous, Ms. Da Costa. I've got to insist that you -"
At which point, with a mighty ka-doom, the back wall of the lobby exploded outward.
The feel of Rant's gauntlet slamming into the wall rippled through Zoey, again; frankly, she was getting sick of the sensation. This time, she chose fly alongside the rubble, acting as if the impact had flung her into the atrium, still trying to get out of sight for a quick costume change. She let herself roll to a stop, and stole a quick look over at the security guards. They were still unconscious, positioned out of the way against the wall, right where Sublimation left them. Zoey made a mental note to make sure they got checked at the Harvey Medical Center.
By the time Zoey looked back into the lobby, Rant was stepping through the hole he'd punched in the wall, right beside the motionless Marshal. His gauntlet's power display was now yellow; each blow must use considerable charge. With his best attempt at a menacing sneer on his face, he raised his hand towards Sublimation, palm aimed at her, his gauntlet buzzing like a high-voltage dynamo. Sublimation brought up her hands, pointing her fingers towards Rant, as white flakes swirled around her fingertips. Her eyes glaring right back at him.
Zoey held her breath a moment.
"I was willing to just let you and the hostages go," Rant intoned, pointing at Sublimation; his gauntlet buzzed angrily with the motion. "But now …", he waggled his finger back and forth, accompanied by a hum.
"Yeah, uh, are you gonna keep talking, or do you plan to -", Sublimation started. She was interrupted by Rant springing forward …
… as one of the desks from one of the offices flew across the room. Rant spun, raising his hand, and when the desk impacted the ready gauntlet, it exploded; paperwork, balsa board, and fitting screws scattered throughout the lobby. At the same moment, Sublimation gestured to the floor, recreating the ice patch from before, and then lashed out with a simple but effective kick to Rant's side. It was enough to send him sprawling to the ground.
The motion of Zoey's hand that had thrown the desk had been small, and neither Rant nor Sublimation had been watching. She smiled to herself as Sublimation seized the opportunity, and picked herself up, trying to look "battered but okay". Sublimation pulled her hand back, and forcefully thrust forward at Rant. A chunk of ice was destined for Rant's head, but he thrust with his hand in the gauntlet, and met the icy sphere in mid-air. With another ka-doom (that pulsed through Zoey again) the ice orb shattered. The resulting shockwave hurled Sublimation back, into the wickets behind her, with a crunch.
Zoey froze a moment. Fuck. The momentum had shifted, again; Rant was recovering, and getting back on his feet; if he got standing, and was no longer off-balance, before Sublimation recovered …
Zoey inhaled, preparing to scream, to distract Rant for a moment, when there was a grinding sound, and the whine of reluctant hydraulics being pressed into service, one last time. What remained of the back wall collapsed, as Marshal's heavy, metal body pulled free, the metal shrieking in complaint. Black oil dripped from his limbs to the bank's carpet, as the oversized hand reached out, a motion tinged with desperation.
Rant stepped aside, and back, out of reach of Marshal's arm, turning his back towards Zoey. Zoey couldn't see his face, but couldn't help but picture the condescending look he'd be giving the hero, as he struggled to aid his partner.
"Nice try," Rant murmured. He thumped a hand Marshal's mechanical shoulder; as the robot's arm waved through the air, Rant gave a condescending laugh. "Well! I guess you're doing okay after that punch, huh? Maybe …"
Zoey gestured, and the long, heavy marble and mahogany table flew straight at Rant's back. Rant spun around quickly, and whipped his left hand up, accompanied by a high-pitched hum. There was a whoomp sound, instead of the previous 'ka-doom'. But it still lead to a loud crack, and a concussive wave that pulsed out from the point where the table impacted Rant's gauntlet. The table cracked into four chunks, and they fell harmlessly to the ice beneath Rant's feet. Rant's head whipped around, searching for the source of the table's sudden attack.
But, because Rant had repositioned himself to destroy the table, Marshal's metal arm finally found purchase. The great mechanical arm was able to grasp Rant firmly by the shoulder. Rant struggled, but Marshal's hand was unforgiving, and his grip was a vise. Rant lifted his hand, and tightened his gauntlet into a fist; an ominous orange light was blinking on the energy bar of the device.
"Still enough charge left to -", Rant started, but was interrupted by a rime of ice rapidly forming over his gauntlet. The ice quickly increased in thickness, and expanded, until a solid inch-thick block of ice coated the gauntlet, and Rant's lower arm. Rant's eyes widened in surprise, and his head whipped around, to look at Sublimation.
"I told you to freeze," Sublimation snarled. Rant desperately tugged at his shoulder, in a futile effort to free himself from Marshal's grasp, but with a gesture, Sublimation created and hurled an ice ball. After a very quick trip across the room, it smacked Rant clean in the temple. His body jerked back, then went limp, dangling from Marshal's clamped hand. Marshal's mechanical hand hummed, and released Rant's body, letting it tumble to the ground.
Zoey, however, had no intention to wait until Rant was full incapacitated. She jogged towards the lobby from the atrium. "Don't forget Rave!", she called out, to remind Sublimation.
Sublimation nodded, and crossed to the hole in the wall. She effortlessly balanced on her ice sheet to step over Rant, and leaned on Marshal as she looked through the wall. "I don't see -", Sublimation started, as Zoey dashed past her, into the hall to the back. With an exasperated sigh, Sublimation added, "Please, wait, Ms -"
"Just gotta use the washroom!" Zoey called over her shoulder, by way of explanation. She zipped down the hallway, past the open vault and safe-deposit rooms, the washroom, and the manger's office, headed for the back of the building.
Unless Zoey completely misunderstood Rave, by the time Rant came through that wall at Sublimation, Rave had already booked it for the back door. She had kept calling it her money, after all — not their money.
Zoey skidded around the corner to the rear exit, to find the last Troll was waiting, pointing an assault rifle at the door, waiting for her. Rave smirked at her from slightly further back into the room. She now carried a large, leather messenger bag.
"Brittany fucking Bachmeister," Zoey hissed. For a moment, Brittany was surprised; the slightest smile teased her lips. But then Rave responded with a smirk.
"Oh! You remembered! I'm honoured," Rave responded. "Look, you understand, don't you? This is all insured. I'm just taking what's mine, Zoey."
"Believe me — hey, any chance you could lower that rifle?", Zoey started. The Troll glanced at Rave, and she nodded; he lowered the business end of the weapon. "Believe me, Brittany, I understand terrible fathers. I remember, Brittany. And your Dad? He sucks. You and your Mom -"
"Don't you dare pity me," Rave snarled. "Your father didn't reject you, because you were different. I have purple eyes, and, and suddenly, he can't find a way to love me? And you? You were nothing but a colossal fuck-up, all through school; skipping classes, spending Daddy's money buying yourself a, a modelling career? And being trashy on Instagram. And now you're rich, and you're famous, and you have the audacity to feel bad? For me?" Rave scoffed, and looked down on Zoey, her lip curling like a particularly foul smell curled her nose.
Zoey held her hand out towards Rave. "Brittany, listen to me. You don't want open that door. Work with me. We can find a way to -"
"Well, so sorry, Zoey," Rave intoned, sticking out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, before dramatically whipping the door open. "I guess this time, you'll have to -"
She never got to finish. As soon as the rear door was opened, Sam flew through the doorway. The butt of his pistol impacted Rave's chin, and sent several teeth flying. Rave spun in a full circle on her way to the floor.
At the sound of Rave hitting the ground, the Troll spun to point his rifle at Sam, but Zoey sighed, "Finally," and gestured with both hands. A wastepaper basket, a computer, two chairs, and then a nearby desk each slammed into the Troll at high speeds, as he grumbled, grunted, snarled, and eventually collapsed under the onslaught. Zoey lifted the desk back up, then dropped it; the Troll loudly exhaled, making it clear she'd clobbered the fight right out of him.
Sam adjusted his grip on his pistol, examined Rave's body, spared a moment to glance at the crumpled desk, and shook his head back and forth. He sighed, shrugged, and returned his firearm to his shoulder holster.
"What took you so long?", Zoey asked.
Sam scoffed, and gestured at the door. "That's a fire door!", he retorted. "It's locked from the inside. Besides," he smirked. "I figured if there was any serious problem, I'd hear the fire alarms."
Zoey rolled her eyes, and pulled her vape from her clutch. "I bet you think that was funny." She took a pull, and let her eyes roll slightly, as she held the vapor in her lungs, then exhaled. "There's a new hero up front; her name is Sublimation. Ice themed. She seems nice!" Sam nodded. "So. I'm gonna scream; you act like you burst in and nailed Rave, here, to save me. Oh! Can I get my compact back?"
Sam looked confused. "Compact?"
"Didn't a guy in a blue suit bring you my compact?", Zoey asked. Sam frowned, and shook his head. She blinked. "Then … why are you at the back door?" she continued.
Sam gestured towards the front of the building. "Figured the police would want the front door. And Fantisma would probably want to leave through the back."
"Well. Fuck," Zoey sighed. "… I better not see my compact on ebay later." She frowned, and took another long pull from her vape. Exhaling, she made a tsk sound, shaking her head. "God, this whole thing has just been one pain in the ass after another. Hostages, new heroes, shitty villains, terrible motivations. I couldn't even manage to slip away for a costume change. God. Whatever happened to a good ritual sacrifice, or a magic rite to be completed on the stroke of midnight? You know, something you can anticipate, plan around. No more of this improvisational bullshit. Plus, that way I don't have to figure out what happened to my compact. God damn it."
Tucking her vape back into her clutch, she shook her head one last time. "Alright. Plug your ears. I'm gonna let 'er rip."