Well, there's a reason: I hit a wall. A virtual wall with the idea. I thought to rush into the Lightbringers, amp up the tension to ELEVENS, and it didn't work. It's too much, too fast.
Here's what I think book three should be about; Blackjack's come back.
We showed him going wrong in the first book, then his spectacular fall from grace in the second. Now it's time to see him make it, but in typical Dale fashion.
As an example of what I want to do, I'll share the first version of the ending of book two. It was similar. Blackjack beats Mighty, somehow, and manages to save the day, again. The Zundergrub final fight happens in the middle of the White House, so everyone sees it. Instead of leaving him in semi-coma, boneless state, he weathers it better, and a few days later, he's out of the hospital. The guy from the NSA (my NSA, not the real NSA - National Supers Agency), Braxton, comes and gets him and takes him to a rooftop where Apogee gets flown in and....Hell, I'll just let you read it. It never got edited so don't laugh at my first draft junk. And sorry for the crappy formatting.
Anyway, I'll continue my comments in another post and let you read...
Zundergrub dug himself out of the mountain of rubble, almost too fast for his weak little frame, with too much strength than I had ever attributed to him. He looked at me with an almost emotionless, placid face, though he was comical, even pathetic, so small and weak, swathed in a small cloud of dust that followed him as he rushed the President.
For her part, President Frost was just as surprised as I was, though she didn't just watch, like a stupefied spectator, as I did. Frost raised her weapon and fired the nine-millimeter with the deadly skill that had allowed her to survive two tours to Afghanistan, while at the same time inching back to avoid Zundergrub's momentum. I know a few of the shots were true, but I was finally out of my funk, moving towards the President as well, and my vision blurred, as I fought through the crashed remnants of the fallen Oval Office. Braxton was firing too, but his weapon was empty after only a few shots. Zundergrub somehow survived the hail of bullets and reached the President first, clutching her tightly around the elbows, so hard she shrieked in agony, dropping her weapons.
"This is far from over," he muttered as I neared, readying a haymaker that would send him into orbit. But a closer look at his grasp showed a strength that was beyond him, his hands tearing into the bone and flesh of the President's arms, nearly ripping through her elbow joint. He was somehow strong enough so his grip held him fast to President Frost and if I hit him with any serious force, I'd send him flying, and the President as well. But there was something about Zundergrub's face, so calm and still, so emotionless as he forced President Frost to the ground before him, it made me pause.
Then I knew.
"Let go asshole or you're fucking dead," Braxton threatened, having reloaded his pistol and putting it to Zundergrub's temple.
"No," I said as Zundergrub turned his face to look at me.
I don't know how I knew it, but I did, this Zundergrub was no man. It was some sort of automaton, and it was now a bomb. Zundergrub wouldn't go this far, bet everything, without having a backup to the backup to the backup, and this was final failsafe. This wasn't Zundergrub, but a robot and one that was about to blow us, and perhaps the entire District into oblivion.
And I knew I didn't have seconds, like "five, four, three, two..." I had to something, NOW.
I karate chopped down across Zundergrub's arms, tearing through the elbow joints, drawing another horrible scream from the President as Zundergrub's grasp tugged again at her. My move was clumsy (I don't know Karate), but it tore through Zundergrub's mechanical arms, revealing sputtering wires that sparked in my face and freeing the President, who fell away into Braxton's arms. I didn't hesitate, grabbing Zundergrub by his neck, and firing off my boot rockets, pressing my heel as hard as I could, opening up the throttle completely.
And boy did I fly.
I rose so fast it didn't matter I had taken off at an odd angle. The wind in my face exploded my pores outwards, and in a tenth of a second I felt a shattering boom surround me as I broke the sound barrier, then another which I couldn't explain. I knew how to fly with these boots now, I knew to steady my feet beneath me, to press the boots together to stabilize the thrust, but this was something different, something I hadn't expected, and, daring a look downward, I saw I had risen far above the city, in just a few heartbeats, and soon high over the Eastern seaboard.
Then I was swathed in flames that licked at my eyeballs, nostrils and ears and I screamed, almost releasing the Zundergrub automaton. With my free arm I covered my face, but in a second I was free of the burning fire, and through, clear of Earth's atmosphere, and still I flared the rockets on my boots.
How fast had I flown? I had no idea, but looking down I saw the planet Earth, whole and entire beneath me, and I had made the trip in but a few seconds. I released Zundergrub, angling away from him so his momentum would carry him free of me, but an instant later, he blew.
It was a flash so bright it completely enveloped me in silent flame. The burning licking at my tough skin, eating and licking at the clothes I wore, the hair on my body, and somehow I had the sense to ride the pressure wave with my upper body and angle away from the blast, letting my rocket boots carry me free from the billowing explosion. So powerful were my boots that I was safe in an instant, and once clear, I could see how devastating the explosion would have been had it occurred on land. It had been a nuclear device of some sort, intended to finish what he had started.
I felt the first pang for air at that moment, as the scream when I had broken through Earth's atmosphere had cost me precious oxygen, and now I had to try to make it back. I dared a quick look at myself, and saw that Zundergrub's devastating explosion had shredded my clothes, leaving me half-naked, blackened the silver coating on my boots and burned off most of the hair on my body, including my eyebrows I was soon to discover.
I shut down the rocket boots and just soared for a second, unsure if I had the power to return, nor how it would work. My lungs were starting to burn, so I had little time to waste, but I knew I couldn't just fire the rocket boots at the same speed and hope I could survive the brutal impact with the surface of the Earth. Hell, even hitting water would be like landing on concrete, and the planet was over 70% covered in water. I'd have to time it right, firing at full strength to get me through the atmosphere quickly, then shut off, reverse my form, and fire again, this time facing downwards to the surface to slow my descent. All in just a few seconds.
For a second, I thought of the Mercury 7 Astronauts, of John Glenn in particular, and his harrowing Earth re-entry affair with a loose heat shield. Of those nervous few moments when no one knew if he had made it or not. And here I was making the same trip, in essence, with only my face as a heat shield.
But there was no time for further rumination. I twisted around, aiming myself at the planet, and fired the rockets.
It took a second longer for the thrust to push me forward, as I didn't have the ground beneath me and was firing off into the void, but after that brief pause, I rushed back, faster than ever before, returning to my beloved planet Earth.
That bastard Zundergrub had tried to destroy it twice now, and I was all that had stood in his way, saving the globe and everyone that was in it. Here I had started as a villain, and now saving the planet was just par for the course. I would have laughed if I had any oxygen, but my lungs were on fire and I had to fight off the urge to take an empty breath.
The planet neared as my speed grew and grew, and I started to worry that I might not have enough time. High as I was away from Earth, the atmosphere would be but a sliver of the distance, and at my present speed, I'd cross that gap in just a few seconds, like a meteor burning bright. Yet I was afraid of reversing and firing off the rocket to slow myself too early, lest I stop still outside the atmosphere and bleed off all momentum that would carry me back to earth.
And I had to breathe; I was ever so desperate for air. My hands shook and I felt like screaming, and then I thought of something; in space, without the air of the atmosphere to serve as friction, I'd be going faster than before, free of anything to slow me. I looked ahead and saw the planet widening in my view, filling the whole landscape, and growing faster at such a rate that I knew I would be there in just a few seconds. I faltered, easing off the throttle, just as I felt a warming sensation before me. This time ready for it, I threw my arms forward, covering my face and hope they would serve as good as John Glenn's heat shield had served him. Again the flames licked at me, but it was so fast, so brief, that before I was able to scream in pain, I was free.
And I shut down the boots and tried to spin myself, seeing a great big sea open up beneath me, to aim my boots down. But it was a clumsy move, the pressure of my speed conspiring against me, trying to keep me from the maneuver. Beneath the sea was closing at a horrifying pace. I was dead, and I knew it.
I tried one last thing, for I was an instant away from a quick death, which was to curl into a ball, trying to use the momentum from my legs coming up to my chest to spin me around, and it kind of worked, but there was the water, I was about to hit.
So I fired the rockets again, and then struck, then it was all dark.
I know now how he did it, how his forces found me in the middle of the Australian outback, how he kept track of me the whole time, and how he made a robot that was realistic enough to fool anyone.
It was Haha.
At first, when I came to the realization, I was furious. Haha had been there with me through it all, he'd been there on Hashima Island when Zundergrub had betrayed us all, and almost destroyed the planet. Haha had stood beside me, when all the chips were down, when I had stopped Zundergrub from genocide, and now he had turned on me. But later, after much thought, I understood why the robot had gone to such lengths, why he had stayed with me, making sure I left Claire and returned to the world, returned to my destiny and faced off with Zundergrub. Mr. Haha wasn't concerned with saving a planet, or the people or anything so benevolent. Haha was designed to watch, to learn, and to study contention and strife between people, and in me and Zundergrub, he had his perfect case study.
The robot didn't take sides, nor did he have an angle. He just wanted to see us facing each other, fighting to whatever end, and the conflict alone was enough for him to get whatever data it was he was searching for.
Once I had decided to ride off into the sunset with Claire, Haha left me, knowing he couldn't change my mind as stubborn as I am, and went looking for Zundergrub, and helped the old man find me. Oh, he'd left something of himself still inside me, so he could track me and guide me towards the good doctor, setting up the final conflict in Washington.
The robot didn't care about Zundergrub, and his plans to destroy the world, he probably fomented them, eager to see me and the old man face off, and knowing that the doctor was no match for me physically, he had generated a robot automaton that could, for a time, match me for strength. But all that effort meant that he had to know I would somehow get past Lord Mighty, and it made me wonder to what level my strength and toughness would continue to grow. I was replete in bruises and I shuddered to wonder what my face looked like, but I had taken the best Lord Mighty and Epic had, and they were as strong as they came.
But beyond yanking my own chain, there was a hard truth to face; Zundergrub was still out there, now aided by Mr. Haha, and I had to stop them.
My eyes flashed open and I tried to breathe but I got a mouthful of water, and coughing only made it worse. It was an instinct that led me to fire off the rockets, and I rose from my reverie deep in the water powering through the surface and high into the air. I shut off the rockets, lest I fire back through the atmosphere, and fell back down, racking with coughs to get a clear breath of fresh air. I landed back in the water, and rose back to the surface, filling my lungs again, and lolling with the heavy seas.
It was day, though I had no idea where I had landed. The re-entry was just a blur, and I hadn't even been able to see where I was going. But the water was icy cold, as was the air, and I knew I had landed in the northern hemisphere somewhere. But how far north? And how much fuel did I have left in my boots?
In my mind, I went through modifications I would make to the throttle valve, and ankle controls to make the powerful rocket boots something I could control. But first I had to live, I had to find land, and I had to get back home.
I figure blurred overhead, faster almost than I was able to discern it, then it flashed back, spinning with an unearthly agility, and coming to a stop while floating just above me.
"There he is," Superdynamic said a wide smile on his face.
I almost wept.
"You are one crazy bastard, you know?"
He came lower and got a good look at me.
"Oh my God, man. You ok?"
I nodded, unable to speak.
"Oh God," he said again, lifting me off the water. For some reason, I couldn't move, near paralyzed, but I could feel the sloughing of my destroyed clothes along my belt, along the edges of my boot cuff.
"You alright, Blackjack?" he said, once he had me in the air, adjusting his grip under my armpits.
"Dale," I said, but it came out like just a cough, and I couldn't be sure he heard me.
"Alright, we'll take it nice and slow," Superdynamic said, flying me away. "Nice and slow."
I fell asleep in his grasp, despite the aching of my armpits from his tight grip, despite the cold wind on my naked body, despite a racking shiver that shook me from head to toe. It might have been shock, but as I descended into sleep, I didn't care if I awoke. I had finally chosen a side, and no longer would I be the villain. It wouldn't be easy, to sway the minds of people who would always be convinced of what I was, of what I had been. I might have done the right thing on Hashima Island, but I had made all the wrong choices prior, I had made every mistake in the book, and people had died because of me. Pulsewave, Influx, all those heroes on Hashima. I was to blame for them, whether directly or not, because my bad choices had led to me being on the wrong side time and time again.
But that’s what I had to face, that was my penance, to stand in the face of public opinion and somehow prove to everyone that I wasn't the bastard they thought I was. Now, that was a challenge worth fighting. I had been motivated by my desire for Apogee, by my hope that she could see past all that, but I didn't understand that she already did. The real test would be to somehow try to do good, despite what had happened, and what everyone thought of me.
That was the one thing that flew through my mind as I slept, the distant thought that someday, somehow, I would be worthy.
Superdynamic got me the help I needed, as my wounds were far more serious than I had realized. I had lost most of my skin and hair, and my eyelids had burned off, as had most of my nose and ears. But I heal fast, and wherever SuperD took me, they were specialists in taking care of supers.
In a week I was off sedatives, and in two I was on my feet, my face back to normal, and my the hair peeking out the top of my scalp. Even my eyebrows were growing back, which one of the doctors said might not happen, but they were only barely starting to come back by the time a nurse came into my room with a suit she hung on the back of the door.
"Time to go," she said, leaving me alone again.
I walked over to the door and saw that it was a black, two-button Brooks Brothers suit, and tailored to fit me. No sooner was I dressed than Braxton himself knocked on the door and let himself in carrying a small shoe box.
"Not bad," he said, fighting the urge to light a cigarette in the hospital.
I stood in front of a mirror, looking at myself. I was pasty, bald, and thin. It wasn't a pretty sight.
"Didn't think you'd make it."
I shook my head, "me neither."
He handed me the box and I laid it on the table, opening it. It was a pair of shoes, also Brooks.
"Nice," I said. "We going to a funeral?"
"Someone wants to see you," he said, his face completely devoid of emotion, almost like the Zundergrub robot right before I had torn its arms off.
"Tell the President, that thanks but no thanks. I don't need any medals, or-"
"It's Apogee," he said, interrupting my crappy attempt at humor.
I felt a tightening in my throat, and my heart begin to race.
"Serious?"
He nodded.
I sat on the bed, nervous, excited and apprehensive all at once, fumbling with the shoe laces, almost unable to put the damned thing on.
"She wants to see me?"
Again he nodded.
"You got that?" he asked, noticing my difficulty.
I just slammed the thing on and worked on the shoelaces, standing again, and looking at my hideous face. The skin had grown back, so I didn't look like a burn victim any more. I had my enhanced healing to thank for that, and my tough skin to thank for surviving the ordeal to begin with. But I was a shadow of myself, of what she had last seen. I was so thin, ever so thin, and my hair was just a brief stubble. How could I face her like this?
"The window of opportunity for this is closing fast."
I turned around, swallowed hard, and said, "Let’s go."
We drove through the a small town of what I soon discovered was Hinckley, Illinois to a regional airport and onto a helicopter that took us into Chicago, just a few miles away. The pilot sat alone in front of Braxton and I, steering the chopper through the city, towards the red-painted CNA Center building that lay just in the shadow of Chicago's two larger structures, the John Hancock building and the Trump tower.
I could feel Braxton staring at me the whole trip, playing absent-mindedly with a cigarette that he lit the second we landed and left the helicopter. I followed Braxton off the pad to a small landing and watched the helicopter take off and soar away.
It was a bright summer day, thought the sun was beginning to dip in the horizon, and it was a bit warm for the suit I wore. But I couldn't feel the sun, nor the ground beneath the soles of my feet. I leaned against a railing watching the Chicago skyline, wondering what she would do. Finally free of Zundergrub's control, free of his mindjob, this would be Apogee at her most honest, and it made me apprehensive, afraid. But she had asked for the meeting, right? Why ask for a meeting if none of it had meant anything to her? Why go through the trouble?
It could just be to thank me. She was dutiful like that, and she would perhaps want to just thank me for saving her life. But was that it? Was that all?
"You should try to relax," Braxton said, taking a long drag off his cigarette.
"Easy for you to say."
He laughed. "I'm not the one that fucked up my life, you know. I would have told Retcon to fuck off."
"If I recall correctly," I said, surprising myself with the level of venom in my voice. "I was the one that saved the day back then. I did pretty good with your boss a couple of weeks back too."
"And that's why we’re here just you and me, and there's not a bunch of capes with us. It's why I agreed to this whole stupid thing."
He eyed me closely.
"You earned yourself a pass. Like in Monopoly? You have this one chance and it's all because of this one lady right there," he said, pointing out into the distance behind me.
I turned to see another helicopter coming towards us and whatever composure I may have had just left me. It was hot, suddenly, and I had to check my breathing as the chopper came down on the helipad. I could see her then, just as it was touching down. Her hair was straight, shorter than when I had last seen her, and she wore large glasses and a light tan trenchcoat. She thanked the pilot and opened the door herself. Madelyne wore a dark medium length skirt and black patent leather pumps, and she gripped the railing tightly as she came down the stairs to meet me and Braxton.
And I doubt I even took a single breath the whole time it took her to walk towards us, because she didn't look at me, she didn’t face me at all. That, and the conservative clothing and makeup told me all I needed to know, and my heart sank.
"Hello William," she said, her voice sweeter than I had remembered.
"Hello Madelyne," he responded and said "You have five minutes," as he walked away.
I swallowed hard, watching her as she saw him go, then finally she turned to me, her lovely face right before me.
"I thought I'd never see you again," I said nervously, and instantly regretted it.
She looked down bashfully, and I knew this had been a mistake. I saw how hard this was for her, and how much courage it had taken her to come here, to face me, and to tell me what was so obvious, what everyone knew but I didn’t. That this was all a lie, that she felt nothing for me.
"I'm sorry about everything." Again, I wished I had said nothing, I wished she would just leave.
"I'm sorry too," she said looking up at me, and just then a flash of the dying sun slipped past my shoulders and lit her face, letting me catch of glimpse of her pained expression, the anguish in her green eyes.
I fought the overwhelming desire to just weep, to bow to the shame I felt for how I had disappointed her, and everyone else. How pathetic my whole life had been. I felt like nothing, like a wasted space, and worse because of the pity she had taken on me, of the love she had shown, it showed how wonderful she was, what a shining star she was and how bright she shone amongst the inky blackness of the sky. A blackness in my heart.
Her hand touched my cheek and I shuddered from the gentle touch, her caress a warm welcome that made all the sorrow and shame fade.
"No," she said. "Please don't. Or I won't be able to hold myself."
But I couldn't stop the tears that welled and rolled down my cheeks, I couldn't bear to face her. After all this time, after all I had been through, this was too much for me and seeing her cry as well was more than I could bear.
"I'm so sorry, Madelyne," I sobbed, lowering my gaze, wanting to turn away. "For everything I put you through."
She placed her hand on my chest, overwhelmed herself, and took off her glasses.
"No," she said, but she couldn't speak, she couldn't get past the tears. "You saved my life."
I shook my head, looking up at the dying sky.
"You saved mine," I whimpered, and closed my eyes as she stepped forward into me, and I held her.
"I'm sorry too," she muttered from deep in my chest clutching me as tightly as I held her. I buried my face in her hair, overcome by her touch, by her fragrance, by the feel of her body pressed against mine.
She separated from me, though I had hoped we would hold forever, and smiled, reaching up to wipe my tears away.
"If they could see you now," she said.
I laughed, though I didn't know why.
Apogee pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her face, taking care to not ruin her makeup.
"I love you," I wanted to say, to just put it out there, to not have any regrets left, but she spoke first and never gave me a chance.
"So," she began, taking a moment to compose herself. "If I recall, you invited me to eat a place called Pancho's."
"What?" I said, but more out of nerves than anything, because it took me a split-second after I had verbalized to remember my offer to take her to this little place down in Baja California. I had said it, out of restless energy, as we were facing the full weight of the world coming down on us on Hashima Island. During a brief moment of peace before all hell broke loose, I had made the invitation.
Madelyne smiled as I came to the realization of what she meant, more so than just a date, what she was implying, of the new world she was opening up for me.
"We gotta cut it short," Braxton snapped in, his right index finger digging into his hear as he listened to his small earphone. His voice was like a dagger piercing my heart.
"But..." I managed and I saw the pain in Madelyne's face, as if she knew this was coming.
"I know," she managed placing her hand on my chest again.
I looked at Braxton angrily, and back at Apogee.
"Zundergrub's still out there, kid," he said waving his arms to the chopper pilot, who dove into the machine and readied for takeoff.
"Dale, I have to protect my mother."
I nodded, feeling the ground fall beneath me, the promise fading away.
"She really liked you," she said. "And I told you she was a tough cookie."
"I love you," I said, unconcerned with Braxton standing next to us, with the price that would be paid when she wouldn't respond in kind.
She cocked her head to the side, eyeing me closely, then smiled and said "I love you too," before diving into my arms and kissing me.
Her lips were tender and her caress overpowering to all my senses. She brought her arms up around my shoulders and held me tight as we kissed and kissed, and I felt transported upwards and away, like that empty feeling in your stomach when I had fired off the rockets, carrying Zundergrub up through the atmosphere, that breathless momentum that drove the oxygen from my lungs and sent me soaring.
She separated from us again, caressing my cheek.
"Please understand," she said, again crying.
I nodded, "I do."
Madelyne looked over at Braxton and dug into her pockets for her glasses and stared at me for a long time.
"I want you to know," she started, pausing as she searched for the right words. "I want you to know how proud of you I am."
Then she left me, a shattered mess, turning towards the helicopter that would carry her away while I wiped the tears from my face.
"Thanks," I told Braxton after she had entered the chopper and it lifted off.
"Well, it's not that easy," he said. "Everything has a price."
I looked at him. "And I'm ready to pay it."
"Good, that's real good," he began. "So first we're going to drop the whole Blackjack moniker. Then we'll come up with something else, and roll you into a small regional group. You'll do 'hard time' as we call it, and you'll like it."
He meant to leave the past behind, to wipe the slate clean. But I couldn't. That was my penance, that was the price I had to pay. I had to go on as I was, with everyone knowing who I had been, to draw a stark contrast with what I was going to become.
"We do that for a few years, and you prove yourself-"
"Braxton," I said, interrupting him.
"Huh?"
"If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do this my way." I looked at him for a moment, making sure he understood, then I jumped off the building, leaving behind an uncertain future, soaring towards the promise of a new tomorrow.
And for the first time in my life, I felt alive.
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