Making Supers 6 by Dante King

Author:Dante King [King, Dante]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Three fat, squat helicopters cannoned toward me in the air.

They had to be half a mile out, but they were gaining on my position fast. I’d fought against helicopters before, but they’d been smaller, lighter craft with a lot more guns and missiles. These things had come here with a likely circus of freaks on-board, with a single mission in mind.

It wasn’t a stretch to assume that Psyche had sent more of his creatures to try and kill me or at least capture my blood. I’d sent out a direct challenge to him, in front of everybody, and he had no intention of letting it slide.

I blew out a long breath as the choppers continued toward me in a straight line. I couldn’t let them deviate even a degree away from me. I had no idea what kinds of monsters were inside the helos, but there was no fucking way I was letting them anywhere near the kids in the bunker, Perry on the porch, or anyone within a ten-mile radius. I’d chosen my battleground, and now it was my responsibility to make sure that not a single one of Psyche’s creations left these fields alive.

I had room to move, and I had room to cut loose.

There weren’t friendlies in the vicinity that could get hurt by crossfire.

I recalled Phenom’s lessons in weaving Elemental powers, drew in a deep breath, and poured my focus out into my body. The breeze in the air, the empty space around me, and the light static in the air played over my senses, and I raised a single hand. Blue lightning leapt to my will, coiled out of my hand and the latent energy in the air, and I released it all in one single burst.

A lightning bolt cannoned out of my hand, expanded out into vicious fingers of blue, and crashed into the lead chopper as it closed in on the borders of the Firm’s old property. The bolt of power collided with the rotors and housing of the first chopper, and orange flames bloomed out from it as the energy latched onto the machine and found its gas tank. The chopper jerked in the air, dropped out of its straight line, and plummeted down to the fence ahead of me. I switched targets a second later, locked my gaze onto the second chopper, and saw a side door of the aircraft slide open.

It occurred to me that I was sitting duck, standing right in mid-air, and I lunged forward with the speed of a bullet. Air tore at my hair and clothes as I went from zero-to-sixty in the blink of an eye, and the sheer G-force of it turned my gut into a writhing mess of adrenaline. I crossed the distance between myself and the second chopper and caught a brief glimpse of a towering, eight-foot figure with some kind of minigun in its hands.

My momentum collided with the spinning mass of barrels, tore it clean out of the armored figure’s hands, and I spun past the rear of the chopper.

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