Dawn of the Void

The next three days were a blur.

Airports were terminally weird experiences, and Bjørn alternated between being a charming and withdrawn travel companion. It was all suitcases and stale snacks, empty gates and harried skeleton staff who volunteered heroically to keep the lights on. Hotel rooms and minifridges, rental cars lifted from abandoned lots, keys snagged from under the counters, convention centers and new skylines.

The cell networks were still up, so James would call each new contact upon arriving and head on over. Shake hands, try to remember names, fail. Military men, officers, enlisted. Ranking civilians, tales of horror, of survival, of improbable victories. Speeches from stages, speeches from the top of staircases, mingling sessions, reviews.

Meetings. Men and women laying out their problems, hoping for solutions, for miracles.

James mostly listened. When he had something good to say, he said it. When he didn’t, he tried to offer constructive criticism. When the situation was hopeless, like in Jacksonville, he just grimaced and powered through.

Bjørn was great. His commentary was sharp, his analysis instant, his ability to dominate a room with key points exemplary. He respected James’s leadership, though, and mostly just worked the wings.

Hotel rooms at night. Strange views of unknown city downtown cores. Each city with its own climate, its own vibe, its own atmosphere.

It was a whirlwind tour. They spent more time waiting and flying than talking to people. But at the end of each visit folks would pump his hand and tell him how grateful they were that he’d come out to help.

And the look in their eyes made him uncomfortable. They didn’t see him, James Kelly. They saw the man the President had described, the enigmatic figure that had emerged on TikTok, the sexylumberhobojack of apparent legend.

At first James tried to puncture that impression, to show them he was just the same as them, no better, but after Cleveland Bjørn took him aside and put him straight.

“Look,” he said. “They need you to be more. This isn’t even about you. This is about what they can take from the fantasy of you. The strength and hope they get from thinking that you’re more, that you’re on their side, that if they work hard enough, get lucky enough, they can follow in your steps. So cut out this humble self-deprecating shit. Be dignified, sure, but if they want to think you’re Superman, let them. Because they need Superman right now, not James Kelly the random guy off the street.”

He was exhausted by the time they returned to JFK. The glare of fluorescent lights, the echoing terminals, the moving walkways, the black car waiting to pick them up, all of it blurred with the other instances from the past few days.

But as they drove east through Brooklyn it all started to feel real again. Familiar sights. Familiar buildings. The demon symbols hovering over the hated hive locations.

They pulled up outside the Marriott, and James climbed out, his clothing rumpled, his mouth tasting stale, his eyes dry. Grabbed his suitcase and looked up the height of the tower.

When had this place started feeling like home?

Bjørn yawned, grabbed his own carry-on, and together they entered the lobby.

At first nobody noticed, but then people did, familiar faces, triad members, and smiles lit up their faces, their expressions glad, relieved.

James was back.

Serenity and a handful of the other Crimson Hydra folks had claimed a knot of armchairs off to one side, and they leaped to their feet and rushed over. Serenity all but tackled James, causing him to stagger back, even as Becca wrapped her arms around Bjørn’s neck and kissed the shit out of him.

Olaf let out a booming laugh, and Denzel clapped him on the shoulder. Yadriel hung back, but a fierce relief was on his dour face as well.

“Guys, I was gone three days.” James set down his case. “You’re acting like it’s been months.”

“Sure felt that way,” said Serenity. “I’ve had to sit in on the meetings you missed. Kill me now.”

“A lot has happened,” said Joanna. “Jessica is a mad woman. You have to see what’s going on in the basement.”

“Angel Wings?”

“A flight of them,” grinned Joanna. “They’re amazing. We’ve all been out on one. It’s…” She shook her head with helpless wonder.

“We’ve been drilling plenty,” said Denzel. “Working on integrating our new powers. Now that Olaf’s got Communal Benediction, it’s sick what we can do. Working on new commands so that we can switch from Deadeye to whatever on a moment’s notice.” ɌαŊóᛒΕṠ

“Hasn’t been the same without you, though,” said Serenity, hip checking him. “We’ve done our best. Everybody has. All sorts of training’s been going on. Learning how to use the radios, what commands mean what. The works.”

“How was the tour?” asked Jason, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Worth the time?”

James glanced at Bjørn, shrugged. “Yeah, I think so. We raised folks’ spirits, I guess. Gave some input. I’ve a lot to process.”

“Hackworth’s vision is becoming a reality,” said Bjørn. “The question is if it will manifest in time. A lot of the places we visited were halfway there. New York is easily miles ahead of the rest.”

“Well, that makes sense.” Serenity breathed on her nails and buffed them on her shirt. “Seeing as who’s operating here. Speaking of which, we’ve got a plan for the First Wave tomorrow.”

“Hackworth settle on one at last?”

“Star Boy convinced him. But c’mon, let’s get your shit dropped off. Hackworth wants you to debrief him on everything, and then we need to get ready for tomorrow.” Serenity picked up his suitcase for him and kissed him on the cheek. “Welcome home, boss.”

* * *

45 Minutes till Nemesis 3 Released

James dismissed the message and eased the Angel Wing forward. Serenity sat with her back to him, her Ma Deuce covering their six by resting on a jerry-rigged pivot that Jessica had helped mount with steel and her mechanicus.

They were a good two stories above the main avenue along which an endless line of school buses was parked, a thin crowd running alongside them, military folks directing them where to go, the sunlight barely warming the late afternoon.

The rest of Crimson Hydra were following behind on their own Angel Wings, two mounted on each but for Jason who was flying solo. Carvajal’s Crimson Dragon was flying point up ahead, while Lindsey’s Crimson Medusa was bringing up the rear of the caravan. Their Ebon and Ivory squads were distributed throughout the actual buses which were loaded with over ten thousand First Wave folks.

The convoy would be escorted both ahead and behind by Bradley’s loaded up with extra troops, and four Black Hawks would monitor from the skies.

The operation had been enormously complex but efficiently handled; people had been gathering since before dawn, filtering in from all over the borough to board the buses and wait. Water had been brought in from warehouses, MRE’s distributed to each person, and slowly every bus had been loaded.

The plan was simple: without knowing what Nemesis 3 would look like, there was no way to adequately prepare for it. So instead they’d take to the interstate and drive up the 87, barreling along at 60 mph and hoping that the demons would materialize outside each bus along the highway’s shoulder.

Outside of the city proper, though it would probably suck for the suburbs.

The front of the convoy started. Over a hundred and fifty buses had been gathered here over the past 36 hours, all driven by army specialists, each with at least half a First Group Blue Light squad on board. The other buses in the other boroughs were staffed by Second Group squads or the highest-ranking regular military forces available. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best they could do.

Getting the whole convoy moving took time, and the NYPD had been called in to make sure there were no obstacles or incoming traffic to block them, such that they drove north to merge onto the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, and there powered ever further north, leaving Queens to cross over Randall’s Island and then onto the 87.

James flew overhead, the Wing responsive to his every thought, summoning the Nemesis 3 countdown every few minutes.

They weren’t making good time.

The plan had been to have the convoy at least past Yonkers by the time the Nem3’s appeared, but they were still barreling through the Bronx as the minutes ticked down.

His radio crackled. He had access to several different bands, from the aircrew monitoring the situation from the skies on great satellite planes to the convoy leaders to Hackworth and his command center back at the Marriott.

The order was given for the buses to hit the gas and time the Nem3 arrival as they drove through the vast Van Cortlandt Park, a huge stretch of forest and green north of the Bronx.

“Gonna be close,” said Serenity, her voice carrying easily despite the speed they were flying at.

5 Minutes till Nemesis 3 Released

James was aware of his heart pounding, pounding as the moment drew nigh. Another bus convoy were visible from their vantage point, a long group just visible up the 87.

One of the Black Hawks scudded by overhead, the huge guns pointed nonchalantly down by sunglass-wearing bad-asses.

The buses were flying, powering along at almost a hundred miles an hour, all hundred and fifty of them, an impossible sight, tops gleaming in the cold sun, roaring past each onramp where cop cars were parked, sirens flashing, men in uniform watching.

4 Minutes till Nemesis 3 Released

James tuned out the chatter over the radio and lowered the Angel, flying just above the buses, slicing through the air at easily some hundred and twenty miles an hour. An overpass marked the boundary to the park, and beyond it rose the brown, sere trees, their branches clutching nakedly at the winter sky, an endless expanse devoid of homes and victims.

No plan was perfect. The Nem3’s would have to go somewhere. But better a diffuse attack north of the city than tens of thousands slaughtered in large groups or across town.

Or so James hoped.

The first of the buses slid under the overpass, Carvajal’s squad flying low to do the same, keeping pace easily with the lead.

3 Minutes till Nemesis 3 Released

James sensed Serenity working the Ma Deuce back and forth, testing the range of motion for the hundredth time. With Eternal Fire the barrel wouldn’t overheat and be slagged; she’d be able to unload Smite-enhanced 50 Cals on whatever appeared forever.

James hoped it would be enough.

One by one the buses drove under the bridge, and he pulled up, gaining altitude to check on the front. The lead bus was now entering the park proper. A golf course lay on the right of the highway, with a huge field beyond that. Another highway curled in from the right to pass under the 87, and when the lead bus made it over that overpass James’s own midway mark drove under the bridge.

They were going to make the park.

2 Minutes till Nemesis 3 Released

James fought to keep his breath steady. They’d done all they could to prepare for this moment. Two weeks of organizing, training, and planning. Over five thousand ranking soldiers and Blue Lighters were working together to mitigate the disaster that was about to unfold. Everyone in Crimson Hydra was at least Novitiate 1. They had the best Benedictions of anyone in the country. The victims below were on the move, blasting along at over eighty miles an hour now, the buses sufficiently narrow that if the Nem2 arrival distance remained a constant, the enemy should appear fifteen yards away.

If they appeared in front the bus they’d get run over. Behind? The same. The shoulders? They’d be left behind in seconds, and as Star Boy had speculated, perhaps they’d appear while going at the same speed as the buses and hit the ground at almost a hundred or so miles an hour.

That’d leave a mark.

The mid-point entered Cortland. Up ahead the lead was spearing through the densest part of the woods. Carvajal had his own Deadeye with a Ma Deuce mounted on the rear, as did Lindsey behind, but there wasn’t much they could realistically do against 10,000 Nem3’s. The hope was that they’d be able to intervene and keep the convoy moving. To ensure everybody got away.

Everybody knew the worst that could happen would be for a bus to flip, to crash, to block the highway and stall the rest of the convoy.

For everyone to be forced to a standstill, surrounded by Nem3’s.

1 Minute till Nemesis 3 Released

“C’mon, c’mon,” muttered James, his pulse racing, his chest tight. Would they fly? Be a swarm? Would they cast fear effects, would they be insectile?

Worse, would they be intelligent? Would they know how to fight together? The Nem2 arm-blades could cut into tank armor. Would these be able to plow right through a bus?

James felt as if bowling ball were dropped into his gut, his whole body was crawling with pinpricks, and his gaze continuously strafed the wooded shoulders.

“Here we go,” shouted Serenity. “You ready, hon?”

“Ready,” he growled back. “Crimson Hydra, Bless Green.”

Power washed over him as the blessings stacked.

“We’re at ten seconds,” came Star Boy’s voice over the radio. “Counting down. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.”

James raised the Angel Wing to a height of some twenty yards. Trees rushed by beneath them. The buses picked up speed.

“Five. Four. Three.”

James took a deep breath.

This was it.

Finally

At long fucking last.

“Two.”

James leaned forward, scanned the forest.

“One. Time’s up. Good luck, everyone.”

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