In the overcast sky above the beast of decay there was a single opening from which the sun beyond shined through. One perfect gap in the sea of clouds.
And then: sonic boom. The clouds sucked together around a red object as it flew through the opening, rocketing toward the injured creature. Atop the roof of a ruined building Shroombalaâs eyes widened beneath her toadstool cap. She
knew that super. It was the same super whoâd blown Boribanâs guts over the Troja Palace in â41. It was the same super whoâd saved the passengers of SpiceJet 99 in â42. And it was the same super who had gotten drunk at Flambeauâs retirement party, seemingly lost all semblance of volume control, and declared that they were such hot shit they could steal Helga Hammerâs date if theyâd so desired.
The Tibetan turdâs mouth hung agape.
âItâs-!â***
Ten minutes earlierCannon placed a palm on the the womanâs shoulder and with one strong arm shoved her to ground. The lady landed rough on the asphalt. Straight brown hair falling out a bun, tanned white-skin, a flowing shirt and lululemon leggings. New balance adorned her miniscule feet. And on her face there was a look of fear, a fear so real. A fear Cannon was sure the woman had never before felt. They averted their eyes.
"Car's full."And then they climbed in, onto the black leather upholstery of the Yamaha. They pulled the door shut behind them. Above the enbyâs head a soft light came on and from the surround speakers played a Latin swing beat backed by gentle strings.
Les Baxter & his orchestra. Tropicando. Easy listening exotica.
Cannonade pulled their leather jacket off their arms and threw it onto the opposite seats. Out the jacket a box of catnip cigarettes and white lighter fell. Cannonade stopped and reached down. They picked a fag off the car floor, placed it in their mouth, and began furiously lighting.
Outside the tinted windows of Cannonadeâs rental the woman had rose and began pounding, her fist colliding with the glass to no avail. Cannon could make out a muted
fuck you through the window as she abandoned her assault and sprinted off, putting her new balanceâs to work. Cannon held the cigarette between tight lips and inhaled before tugging their shirt up. Their torso was lean, a gentle happy trail gracing blackened bruised abs. Their breasts fell free: puny, pointed, and barbell pierced. They pulled the shirt over their head and the lit cigarette in their mouth. The fabric got caught on the sharp edges of their wide shoulders but with a little effort it yanked off and was thrown to the floor.
A long, uninterrupted honk shook the car. The screams were escalating, the sounds of panic now mixed with something new and, to Cannon's ears, monstrous. With their cigarette securely between a thumb and a pointer finger Cannon crawled forward to peer out the window. Down the street a trio of creatures stood â pulsating bodies of hardened clay lined with tree-root veins. They stood at different heights and each seemed to have an array of appendages: some mammalian, some insect-like, and some like tentacles from the sea. It was as if each had a random assortment of features grafted into their forms- just like the creature at the beach. One let out a horrible roar and smashed a parked car into the earth as if it was a piñata. Then, like thunder in the sky, the voice of Adolf Hitler came from the heavens. Cannonade looked up, out the window, wide eyed as the murdererâs impassioned speech echoed, and they sincerely asked themselves: was this hell?
With stallion speed two of the monstrosities passed the carâs windows, hunting for prey. The third, a grotesque creature of warts, had a man cornered across the street. On the car seat next to Cannon, left with a dangerous level of casualness, was one half of their pair of gravity guns. It was a meaty piece of machinery, with a rectangular barrel almost as thick as the rest of the weapon. Cannonade grabbed the pistol and took aim out the window with their left hand. Their right hand was extended, ready to control the projectiles when launched. With a sharp inhale they fired. Their windows were penetrated thrice. The bullets flew forward, their altitude dropping to pass beneath a running civilianâs legs, then rising up above the head of another, and then levelling evenly to penetrate the creature. They struck: two in itâs large, central sack and one in the limb it threatened to bring down upon the man it had cornered. With an explosion of slime the beast began to collapse in on itself.
The Latin swing continued as Cannon unzipped and kicked off their boots. They wore cat print socks beneath. The middle toe on their left foot had stung suspiciously like a fracture since the fight with Maeve. They stretched out across the duo of seats they occupied and did a rough pigeon pose. Their hands moved down their waist and unzipped the frayed jean skirt. The sounds of the outside world came through the window's bullet holes like smoke through a filter. The world was briefly deafened by another of the far off creatureâs roars, but was then replaced by the winds and sounds of panic theyâd grown familiar with.
Down to a high-wasted black thong Cannonade knelt on the floor of their rental car and reached into a hefty leather tote bag that had been stored there. And in their grasp pulled out was the familiar red weave of their super suit. The material was thick but stretchy, lined with armour and technology. They dipped their socked feet into the legs of the bodysuit and pulled the leathery material up their bruised body as best they could. It slid on like a glove, only snagging on their prominent tush- but after a few tight pulls Cannon overcame. They reached for a button at the neck and with a tap the suit began to pressurize. The wrinkles in the material flattened and became skin tight to the shape of Cannonadeâs body. After a moment of adjustment they slid a gloved hand down their stomach to the crotch and pulled to loosen the vacuum sealed fabric. They tightened the straps of the codpiece and other bits of armour that hung from the bodysuit and then pulled up the uniformâs combat boots. They gave them both a double knot.
Out the tote came the final piece of the outfit. The helmet. The flame on Cannonâs fag had reached the filter. After one last inhale they spit it out onto the floor of the car and flattened it beneath their boot. They ducked into the opening of the helm and on the glass before their eyes the ARUI came to life. Cannonade reached up to touch the ceiling of the vehicle. The metal sparked as the roof ripped off the vehicle and rose into the sky. Cannonade too rose beneath it, ascending out of the car and over the street. As they floated Cannonade grabbed hold and climbed atop the rising roof-plate. On their magic carpet of steel they floated higher and higher, away from the chaos on the street below, until they could see over the rooftops, to the beach on the horizon and the creature that terrorized it. Explosions and lights coloured the world around the creature. The military had come in and were readying artillery. Other supers too tried to save the city from the eldritch horror that had arisen at its coast. From the looks of things there was an assemblage of them, all putting up a good fight. But there was one flaw with their strategy, one key issue that would prevent them from achieving victory: they werenât Cannonade.
The sphere of gravity surrounding Cannonade and the car roof they rode on dissipated, and the metal began to freefall. Cannonade carefully stood on the falling metal and leapt off at an angle, in the direction of the beach before rising into the clouds. Like a lost kite the roof plummeted toward the streets below.
***
It was a dark and stormy night. Really, it was. There was a tornado on the horizon and the rain smashed against the glass walls of the house like a hot tub jet on full blast. A bleached blonde Cannonade marched forward, sporting a much different outfit and with a motorcycle helmet beneath their arm.
Behind them another figure stood- undercut blue hair. Crossed arms littered with tattoos. A somber expression on a freckled, English face with blue eyes that could pierce your soul. âYou donât have to go,â they said at last.
Cannonade stopped and twisted their head to eye them.
âRight now Iâm the only one who can.âTheir scene-partner was wide-eyed. Desperate. âIâm asking you to stay.â
âYouâre asking me to not be me,â Cannon replied.
âI donât have a choice- you know I donât have a choice! I didnât choose to be Cannonade.âThe blue-haired figure walked forward. Their bare-footed steps on the tile coincided with lighting strikes beyond. âDarling, youâre so much more than Cannonade. No matter what they see in the sky... I know what you are." A callous hand reached up to touch Cannonadeâs cheek. Their finger traced a mark- long and jagged like a claw scratch beneath their eye, still red but healing. â...Youâre flesh and youâre bone.â
â...You think you know what I am?â Cannonâs voice was cold and their accent came through clear as day. They recoiled from the touch and continued to march toward the glass, toward the tornado on the horizon. They grabbed hold of a handle and pulled the sliding door open. The wind hit them like a semi-truck. The rain felt like pebbles against their skin. And the thunder bellowed again as they stared down the apocalyptic scene.
âYou have no idea.â And with that Cannonade ducked into their helmet. Ready to be the superman.
***
Cannonade rocketed down from the sky. Theyâd surrounded themselves in a bubble of bearable gravity within another bubble of gravity increased to deadly degrees. Fire consumed all as the earth pulled them down to itâs surface, like a mother pulling back a long lost son. Their bones stretched, their muscles were wrung. They could feel the pressure coming in. Inside the helmet their skull rocked from side to side violently. The world was a blur and tears streamed down their face. They werenât religious but at times like this even Cannonade prayed, however silently. They released their fists, letting their hands fly free. And as blinding fires consumed their view they closed their eyes.
â-Cannon!â Shroombala finished as the red cannonball made contact with the beast of decay. And, to great shock to the onlookers, it ripped through the creature like a bullet. It was almost too fast to tell what had happened, but something
had happened. It was as if a pea-sized black hole had sliced through the core of a planet in the blink of an eye, and the planet had collapsed around it.
There was a line where the being of extreme gravity had passed through. The insides that once occupied the gargantuan creature were cleanly ripped out along the vertical path Cannonade had flown. The creature's compressed guts chased after Cannonadeâs body like tracking missiles chasing a jet, straight down into the sea. With itâs centre gutted the remaining two sides of the beast of decay began to crumble. The colossal remnants of itâs carcass fell and collided with beach before toppling over into the waters. The veins that had attached through the earth of the metropolis ripped out, collapsing the buildings they had ensnared. A tsunami like wave rose from the impact with the water. The water swelled and grew, gathering high enough over the heroes to block out their sun. And it lingered, threatening to come down over Atlas City and wash what remained of it away.
Seconds after entering the sea Cannonade smashed into the bed of the bay- not that they felt it. They would have blacked out far before the seabed, most like upon impact with the water thirty feet above. Their body began to float, limp but stationary, with their helmet acting as an anchor and keeping them stuck to the sea floor. Above them sank the remnants of the beast of decay, consuming the water in blackness. But the mould never reached them. The dark instead seemed to swirl and move, like a school of fish- shattered but still living...
