Maelstrom, and the Killing Clock

The hour struck one. Visions of Maelstrom failing to stop the kidnapping tortured his mind. A black truck, a hulking beast, the mob looking for a quick sale. Only three more hours of night, or she’s dead, Maelstrom thought. His heart rate rose as he watched the city below. This wasn't a regular kidnapping… They did the usual moves, but they couldn't have done it alone. Raindrops hit the metal of his armor with annoyance. He knew he was frantic; he had to make a move now, or the girl would be in the river by dawn. Worry ripped at the vigilante. Maelstrom tightened his fists. He knew damn well she wouldn't just be another victim of this poisoned city, not while he breathed. Besides, the team would be waiting for her safe return. The guilt of failure would crush him like being stuck under a slab of steel. Maelstrom thought, Regain your composure, soldier. The victory is at hand. The rain was heavy in the city. Drops covered the vigilante’s face like a waterfall of sorrow. However, he could smell the petrichor. It cleared his troubled mind.

Maelstrom felt the cold snap of rain and was blinded by the moisture. He pulled his hood up over his head so his visor would stay dry. He stood above the city on the highest rooftop. The city skyline was ominous and deadly. Like a predator waiting for its next kill, Maelstrom thought. The city had its own voice, one that could rend a mind. The wet concrete filled the vigilante’s nostrils. A mixture of rain atop cement created a mineral aroma, yet the smoke from the vendors below spurred him onward, giving him an idea of a reward after the mission. A nice meal and rest would do him well, but no reward could be gained until the girl was safe.

The slick water underneath his boots made it hard to keep stable, yet he was unwavering. He looked downward toward the streets. The nighttime hustle of the city didn’t stop, not even for a missing girl. It was good someone was on the case. I wouldn't have trusted this kind of thing to a regular cape, Maelstrom thought. His footing was slippery, so he pushed down on the roof's edge. Then Maelstrom leaped from the building with his sleek, powered jet pack. It hummed and ignited with flame as he was propelled upward. His cloak billowed in the rain-swept wind. He could feel drag against his hood as he flew. He could hear the muffled engine of his jetpack behind the sound of rain. He raced toward the rescue of the girl.

The girl had to be at the docks by now. Dimeroni and his faction were making a sale by six o'clock, and time was ticking. God forbid they move the sale up. Dimeroni didn't just deal in human trafficking; he played for keeps. He knew the girl would make me move, Maelstrom thought. As he propelled closer to the waterfront, neon signs shone brightly as the rainfall distorted their images. The docks stretched like a hand as its planks reached into the darkness of the water. Along the waterfront, the smells of rotting fish and salt were heavy in the air. Each alley along its way was a possible threat. Glints of metal and figures always hid in the corners of the city. He could feel eyes on him.

The wind almost threw him off course. Had Maelstrom not redirected himself, he'd be flattened upon the concrete streets. His stomach lurched. The strain in his muscles was agony. Once he adjusted himself, he cursed the city for testing him during this pivotal time. Then it happened. A sniper's bullet pierced the jetpack. He heard the crack and spray of fuel. Maelstrom fell onto a nearby roof. His body made a loud thud as he hit the roof. With great haste he took off his damaged jetpack. He was mere moments from the docks, and now he was set off course. Acrid jet fuel wafted in the surrounding area. Maelstrom thought: One spark and the area could combust. Maelstrom would not let this stop him.

Maelstrom tried to determine the location of the sniper. The rain hampered his hearing, but his tech would compensate. He activated a sonar device in his visor. He discovered his assailant, perched above on a higher building. Maelstrom thought: Of course it just had to be her. Ruby Huntress… a vile hitman who took the highest bid, no matter how unsavory the details. Just looking at her made Maelstrom sick. She stood at the rooftop’s edge in scarlet tactical armor. Her rifle glinted under the neon lights. She had a rare scope that made every shot more precise. It brought back a nostalgic feeling in Maelstrom. Maelstrom thought: At least she still had a respect for classics. Her stance was cocky and filled with malice. I could use this against her… Yes, Maelstrom thought. Maelstrom then heard her chamber her next round. He prepared for bullet fire.

If it was a long-distance fight Ruby Huntress wanted, then it's what she would get. Maelstrom yanked out his hypersonic military-grade rifle. They stared at each other for a long minute. The rain dripped off the barrels of both guns. Sizing up the distance and then each other's weapons, they waited for the first move. A thumping heartbeat filled Maelstrom's ears. Then it happened. Maelstrom fired the first blast, which tore a chunk off the building, hurling it toward the city streets. The looming dust cloud that formed descended upon the lower alleyways. Ruby Huntress dodged that strike and fired a ringing sniper blast back at Maelstrom. The rain stung his face and distorted his vision, but he ran, blasting away. Vicious, beaming eruptions were howling that night. He had to end this quickly because if Ruby stalled him long enough, the girl wouldn't live to see the light of day. The timer on his visor’s HUD ticked down. Two hours left until she was gone forever.

The Ruby Huntress proceeded to fire three rapid shots aimed at Maelstrom's head. The visor calculated their trajectory. He merely moved his head once to avoid the first bullet. He dodged again, letting the second bullet whip past his visor. The mighty crack of the third bullet rang out. He lifted his rifle, aimed at the third, and vaporized the bullet mid-air. Maelstrom nodded to the efficient execution of his counter-strike. Maelstrom could tell Ruby Huntress didn't like that.

Her eyes flashed, and she snarled as she dove off the roof. She pulled out two heat-sinked blades from hidden compartments on her hips before she rushed toward Maelstrom. The rain hissed on the heated metal. He couldn't help but smirk at her frustration. Maelstrom took out an electrified riot baton. It extended with a fast snap. The heat-sinked blades clashed with his electrified baton… white flash, then sparks. Blue arcs ripped through the steam of the simultaneous impact. They clashed repeatedly.

The vigilante attacked high, as Ruby ducked and rolled, attempting to stab Maelstrom in the calf. All she met were armor-plated combat boots. He kicked her, and she slid across the rain-covered roof. She splashed through a puddle in a spray of water. Quickly, Maelstrom hit her full force across the face with the baton. Electricity overloaded her nervous system, and her body went rigid and collapsed on the rain-slicked roof.

Maelstrom breathed heavily. His energy was spent after the fight, but there was still work to do. He turned toward the waterfront. Waves lapped, beckoning him forward. The stink of jet fuel clung to him. He jumped rooftops until he stood over the docks. Giant cargo crates lined the docks’ walkway like lonely sentinels. Footsteps creaked the wooden planks. He could see shadowy suited figures circling one particular crate. Yellow lights flickered in the water’s mist. He rappelled down with ropes from his tactical backpack.

Maelstrom hit the ground with a thud and called out to everyone in the vicinity. “Out now! Give me the girl, and you walk away alive. Refuse, and I turn these docks into an inferno.” Maelstrom rested his pulse rifle on his shoulder, then fired into the air. The crack echoed off the cargo containers, rolling across the black water. It was pure intimidation, and for a heartbeat, the only movement was the mist curling between them.

The goons started coming out of the woodwork. Maelstrom knew Dimeroni thugs. Suit-wearing troglodytes with too much sick time on their hands. “You slime balls hand her over, or do I have to introduce you to my pulse cannon?” Maelstrom threatened. A thug with a bald head that shone in the docks’ light spoke up, must have fancied himself a leader. “Oh no, Maelstrom, we won't be handing anything over. We’ve got something for you.” The thug proceeded to pull out a frag grenade, and the rest followed suit. They chucked it toward Maelstrom. The sound was a deafening roar. He used his cloak to shield himself from the blast. Fire licked at the cloak's edges. The impact hit hard, but he stood his ground in a fighting stance. He burst through the flames of the explosion. Embers trailed off his ebony armor. He began pummeling the thugs with his baton. One swing cracked ribs. He hit another into the crates. Each baton strike sent electric blue arcs into the rain-filled air. Fried flesh hung in the air, mixing with jet fuel and salt air. They still say you could smell it for miles. He avoided punches and pulled out a multi-shot stun gun. The thugs froze in their tracks after being zapped by it. Their bodies stiffened and collapsed. Thugs sprawled across the docks, mist covering their bodies as Maelstrom stepped over them like ignored trash.

Bodies were strewn around Maelstrom. He was as thorough as he was intimidating. Maelstrom approached the storage crate they had circled. He slid the heavy door, and it groaned under the strain. Light flooded the cargo crate, Maelstrom's silhouette framing the doorway. Inside was something he hadn't expected. Dimeroni himself held a gun to the girl's temple. He stood with an arm wrapped around the girl. “You’re right on time as usual. Looks like Ruby couldn't keep you occupied,” Dimeroni said. “Let the girl go…” Maelstrom clicked his electrified baton, and lightning coiled around the weapon. “If you don't, I'll make it a thousand times worse than usual,” Maelstrom warned. “You got a head injury,” he pushed the gun harder against the girl's head. “I'm the one who's got the gun,” Dimeroni said. “Why take the girl, Dimeroni… anyone but that girl?” Maelstrom’s eyes analyzed the crate. He noted the chair where the girl sat, Dimeroni poised to murder innocence, and the way sound echoed in the crate. “You must be off your rocker, Maelstrom. Are you getting sentimental? I could cut you in, perhaps. We sell this broad to the highest bidder, and we'd be set. You already pushed my scalp back, injuring my men…” Dimeroni offered. Maelstrom smirked. “Let the songbird scream.” At that moment, the girl's eyes glowed, and a sonic scream erupted from her mouth. Birds scattered. The metal cargo crate vibrated from the sound. Rust fell from the metal walls. Maelstrom’s tech shielded him from her sonic roar… A protection Dimeroni didn't have. His ears bled and his brain rattled. His knees buckled, and he dropped the gun. He couldn't tell if he was alive or dead. The sound devoured his awareness finally, and the floor embraced his limp body.

The sonic scream ceased, and Maelstrom untied the girl. “What just happened to me?” the girl asked, tears in her eyes. Maelstrom placed a hand on her shoulder, looking at her with a stoic kindness. “Information you'll soon be privy to. Until then, stay close to me. The city has dangers too numerous to count.” Maelstrom explained. “Is he dead?” she asked. “No, I never said the killing activation code,” Maelstrom teased. The girl looked horrified, yet there was a glint of memory behind her eyes. “Are you serious?” she asked, rubbing her sore wrists. “No, not right now, anyway. Come, there is much I have to explain. Dawn is upon us, and before the sun rises, we'll be hunted again,” Maelstrom warned.