Chapter One

No one quite knows the secrets of the so-called Day of Devastation, but everyone knows the story. On May 23, 2003, a mushroom cloud engulfed the city of Detroit, Michigan. One hundred thousand people died instantly, but this was no nuclear attack. Most of the city’s population survived, some transformed in to metahuman or degen. The city was left with no electricity, no running water, and an infrastructure damaged by a series of aftershock quakes.

Thousands fled in the next week, and many experts consider them the lucky ones. For on May 31, the United States government declared old Detroit past the state of repair. Residents were given one week to vacate the city before the city would be closed off and demolished.

The government’s answer came in the form of an attack on the military units inside the city by a previously unknown metahuman. Along with his small army of metahumans, degens, and normal humans, he leveled entire platoons of military soldiers. The United States government withdrew only a day after declaring the city a no man’s land.

The unnamed metahuman declared himself Mister Mayor. The United States cordoned off the outskirts of the city. The Divide was born.

That was six years ago. I have watched every event occur from my prison. Much has changed in the former Detroit, but the story of the residents of the Divide has only just begun.

As has mine. For now I only watch, but soon. Soon I will change the world forever.

Or die trying.

*****

The red haired man in the back of the bus watched the vehicle pull in to a small driveway oun the edge of the Divide. The man known as Able felt the bile rise in his throat. He knew that the city lived under its own rule now, but he could still taste the unsavory taint of America all over its streets and buildings. In the very air. Detroit may be gone, he thought, but all its vileness remains.

The bus from Toronto came to a halt on a small platform at the very age of the city. Able watched the other thirty or so Canadians on the bus disembark before he stood up. They walked straight out on to blasted streets. Less than a handful knew where they were going. Most looked confused by their decaying surroundings. None had been to the Divide before; buses from Canada to the city-state ran only one way.

Able could not sympathize with them. Only a fool would come to this city for no reason. No one can find a future here. This city is only a long, sure way to die.

Able knew it was not for him. He would stay here as long as he needed as his quest must continue here. He only could hope that his stay would be brief, and he could return to his own ambitions in his homeland. He retrieved his small rucksack from beneath the bus and exited the terminal.

The sign above the bus station exit told him he was now in Hardcore City. Well known even before the Day of Devastation as a haven for crime, the westernmost district of the Divide was now little more than a blasted wasteland. Some of the worst metahuman battles in the days following the Devastation occurred here. Like much of the city, no one ever bothered to fix any of it, and the area had fallen in to disrepair. It gave the area an almost ancient feel, though the damage wasn’t much more than five years old.

Able stood outside the bus terminal and closed his eyes. He concentrated and felt the burn of his energies inside him. He felt the oldest of his stolen powers activate. The darkened taint of hundreds of degens and the warm glow of over a dozen metahumans suddenly surrounded him. Every metagene-active individual in the city was now visible to him. A haven for metahumanity indeed.

Of the signatures near to him, two distinct metahuman signatures sparked his interest. Both were strong. Both were very close to one another. The second seemed to be following the first. No better place to start, Able thought. If I have to go through every metahuman in the city, I will find what I’m looking for.

Able focused his extra-normal sense on the soul-signature of the two metahumans. He started to walk towards them at a brisk pace. They were just over four blocks away and conveniently enough on his way out of Hardcore City. The one in the lead moved slowly, far slower than he could move. He was in no hurry, a rarity anywhere in the Divide. According to the stories, no one liked to stay on the streets of the city for long.

To catch up, Able sped up to a brisk jog. With his sweatshirt and backpack, he could look like a jogger. Only a moron would jog in Hardcore City, he thought. He also knew he could handle any threat that came his way.

He got a few strange looks, but no one was ready to match his glare let alone try to start trouble. An advantage in a city ruled by fear. With the much slower pace of those he followed, Able was able to catch up to them after traveling only six blocks. He ducked in to an alley about half a block down from the man in the rear and watched.

Both men had their backs to Able. The man in rear was dressed in black from head to toe. He kept to the shadows as he stalked behind the other man. His outfit was mostly leather and covered his entire body. A large cape flowed out behind him as he moved. The shadows seemed to thicken out and combine with the cape as he moved in and out of them. Able could feel a soft throb as the shadow-walker used his powers. A handy ability, but nothing as useful as my current abilities.

Further ahead, nearly a block from Able, the other man was flanked by four individuals, all large and muscular, all normal. They wore clothes featuring random and garish colors, blue and yellow and green and orange. Clown colors, Able thought. They have to be Great Question goons.

The Great Question were the current rulers of the city. Able knew little about the street gang outside of the name of its leader, Antagonist, and his lieutenants, Mouthpiece and Conundrum. No one even knew anything about where they came from and who they were. Some figured they rose up in the Divide, while others doubted any group with resources that great could pop up and take control so quickly. Only Mouthpiece had any real notoriety outside the Divide. He was an infamous Middle Eastern business man turned metahuman yes man. With dark, short-cropped hair and his expensive suits, he could pass as a dark-skinned yuppie if it wasn’t for the slight deformation of his back. Now he served as the public voice for the Great Question.

And he walked only a block ahead of Able, flanked by his bodyguards.

Mouthpiece paused, turned, and looked behind him. For a moment, Able wondered if he might be in for a fight. Instead Mouthpiece’s gaze went to the nearby shadows where the man in black seemed to have completely disappeared.

“Come out, Midnight,” Mouthpiece said. “I tire of this cat and mouse game.”

The man inblack emerged from the shadows, but the darkness seemed to follow him as he walked. “That’s Mister Midnight to you, Mouthpiece. I am here to take you out of the Divide and in to custody.”

“You have no authority here,” Mouthpiece said. “And you have no chance in hell of defeating me, let alone the entire Question.”

The shadows suddenly rose up. They formed in to four spear-like tendrils. The tendrils shot towards Mouthpiece’s goons. Made of some kind of dark force energy, the tendrils squeezed Mouthpiece’s bodyguards tightly. Able could almost hear the cracking of each man’s bones as Mister Midnight crushed the life out of them.

“Your Question goons can’t help you,” Mister Midnight said. “Today you die, Mouthpiece!”

“You’re a fool, Midnight. You’re a fool who doesn’t even know why he’s in the Divide. You don’t want to kill anybody, especially me. No, you just got lost on a mission and wandered in to the Divide by mistake, didn’t you?”

Able thought Mouthpiece must have gone insane. Who would stop to tell a preposterous fiction in a life and death battle? But Midnight hesitated at the words. He seemed confused and unsure of where he was or what he should do.

Mouthpiece smiled and opened his mouth wide. He inhaled sharply. Able realized Mouthpiece’s plan just in time to cover his ears.

A blast of concentrated sound smashed in to Mister Midnight’s chest. His midsection twisted unnaturally as bones shifted at the sledgehammer-strong blow. Midnight wavered on his feet. His eyes were glassy as he slowly stumbled towards Mouthpiece by sheer will power alone.

Mouthpiece inhaled. The next blast shattered Mister Midnight’s skull. Midnight’s corpse wobbled for a second longer before it dropped to the sidewalk with a wet thud.

Mouthpiece closed his mouth. He took a few calming breathes as he checked his three piece suit. He brushed some imaginary dust from his lapel before he turned and started back towards the Q-Zone, now alone.

Able waited for Mouthpiece to get about a block farther away before he ran out to look at Mister Midnight’s corpse. Between the full body costume and the misshapen body beneath, the figure no longer even looked human. The twisted form and the blank eyes left no doubt in his mind that the man was still alive.

This Mouthpiece individual intrigued him. He and I are similar in so many ways, foreign, ruthless but canny, wise but strong. He and I could accomplish much together.

But alas, he was not the man Able sought. His search would continue. It would do so in the Q-Zone where Mouthpiece’s bosses and dozens of other metahumans awaited him.

Able watched as Mouthpiece and his guard disappeared down the street. They were very close to the outer edge of the Alley. Once across, they would officially be in the Q-Zone, the Great Question’s seat of power.

*****

You have got to be crazy, Jack! Only a crazy man would willingly throw himself to the dogs like this.

Jack Flash groaned as he realized his inadvertent pun. Dressed in his normal action attire which consisted of a simple pair of blue jeans and a solid black t-shirt with a stylized wall of flame on his chest, he stood on the rooftop of a massive warehouse turned mansion. From his current purchase, he could see down through the massive skylight in the center of the massive structure. A large Olympic swimming pool filled most of the room below. A greenhouse style garden filled the area around the pool except for a few cleared areas that were covered by only Astroturf. All four members of the Dogpack’s inner circle, along with dozens of wild dogs, were within a few yards of the pool. They seemed lost in their daily revelry, but Jack knew they weren’t that easily fooled. It’s now or never, he thought. He took a deep breath, pulled open the skylight, and dropped down in the midst of the Dogpack.

It took only seconds for Pitbull and Bulldog to stop from their play in the pool and move straight towards the sudden invader. Jack threw himself backwards to avoid the massive fist of the hirsute, pug-nosed Bulldog. He bared his teeth as he charged again at Jack, but Jack rolled away from the attack. Bulldog’s momentum took him several feet past where Jack now stood.

Jack summoned the flames to both arms. Instantly his arms were covered in a blazing inferno. He took careful aim and unleashed a blast of it straight in to the oversized degen’s posterior. Bulldog yelped as his swim trunks smoldered and burst in to flame.

Jack spun around just in time to see Pitbull’s chain strike before it wrapped around his neck. Pitbull’s face showed strain even past his wild eyes as he willed the enchanted chain to pull tighter around Jack’s neck.

Jack’s entire body burst in to flames as he summoned the full force of the fire, but the chain’s magical properties protected it from melting away. He could feel himself running out of oxygen. He fell to one knee as his flames quickly died out.

“Please,” he said with what was left of his voice. “I didn’t come here to fight you.”

The various canines in the room circled around Jack. They sat down on their haunches and studied him as he choked to death. Pitbull stood just beyond them as he willed his chain ever tighter.

“Stop!”

The chain’s grip loosened slightly as Pitbull turned to look at Chihuahua. The leader of the Dogpack stood only slightly taller than his namesake. Completely blind, he held a chain linked around the neck of the barely clad woman known only as the Bitch. She stood silently behind him and through their mental link, served Chihuahua as his eyes.

“You have sixty seconds to explain yourself, human, before I let Bulldog and Pitbull tear you to pieces. Start talking.”

Jack wheezed for air as he tried to speak. “The…chain…”

Chihuahua and his consort’s gaze both turned to Pitbull. “Loosen your grip,” Chihuahua said. “Just enough to let him talk.”

Pitbull nodded. Jack instantly felt the chain loosen around his neck.

“Better, much better.”

“You have forty-five seconds now,” Chihuahua said. “Explain your business in the Marked Territory or die.”

“Yeah, right,” Jack said. “As I said, I didn’t come here to fight. As it stands I have absolutely no problem with any of you or your gang. As far as I’m concerned, the Dogpack is one of the few forces in this mixed up pile of shit we call a city that I don’t worry about. But we do have something in common; something that all of us need to worry about.

“His name is Mr. Mayor.”

Bulldog guffawed from behind Jack. “The Mayor’s gone, fool. The Questions took care of him months ago. Those bastards stole victory right out from under us.”

Jack shook his head. “I wish it was that easy. The Mayor and his Cabinet have been working for weeks. Building up their forces, securing their power center, and preparing an attack on the Q-Zone.”

Chihuahua nodded. “And an attack that large would spill out over most of the Divide. Including our unfortunately poorly placed territory. Is that what you’re trying to say, human.”

“That’s what I’m saying. And the name’s Jack Flash, if you don’t mind.”

The Bitch whispered something barely audible. Chihuahua’s oversized ears twitched as he heard every word several feet away.

“We have heard of you,” Chihuahua said. “You have many enemies, Mr. Flash. Why would you think we would help you mount an attack on the Mayor’s forces?”

“Because I know as well as you do that the only thing you hate more than the Great Question is Mr. Mayor and his Cabinet. And I know you want to see him back in power even less than I do.”

Chihuahua smiled his toothless grin. “You are wiser than I would have guessed. If what you say is true, the Dogpack will stand beside you. What is your plan?”

“I see only one chance for success,” Jack said. “We have to go in now, before they can strengthen their power base anymore. With your help, we can hit them like lightning, take out the Cabinet, and remove Mr. Mayor from this world once and for all.”

Chihuahua shook his head. “I don’t like it. It runs too many risks. It—”

“It’s our only chance. Are you with me or do I go in alone?”

Bulldog and Pitbull looked to one another then to the Bitch. They both nodded. The woman whispered again. Chihuahua smiled. “The decision is unanimous. The Dogpack stands with you, Mr. Flash. When do we attack?”

Jack smiled. “Can you get this chain off me first?”

Chihuahua laughed. The chain fell from his neck as Chihuahua and the Bitch moved in to stand beside Jack. “Come, join us, and you can give us all the details.”

Jack rubbed his neck and nodded. “We’ve got only hours to work over this plan. Let’s get to work.”

*****

Bob Cat laughed as he wrapped his arms around the shoulders of two beautiful women. The very drunk redhead to his left swayed right and left as she laughed. To his right was a black girl in a waist-length wig that matched the blue in her halter top, short skirt, and coincidentally, his eyes. She rubbed her hands all over his chest and arm, obviously high on something much stronger. Bob dropped his hands down lower and cupped the ass of each lady. He didn’t much care what they were on. Between the drink, the drugs, and his horde of fans around him, Bob felt no pain either.

The three of them stood in a corner of Club Thrash. Speed metal screeched to a halt on the speakers as the live band finished a song. They quickly started in to another one. Bob and his companions danced in place to the tune.

Death Ray sat in the corner. The older, utterly silent vigilante didn’t quite understand his partner’s “unwinding”. He was nothing if not a pragmatist, and this frivolity left them open for any kind of attack. Therefore it put the people of the Steelworks in even more danger of attack at the hands of any rogue metas. Their home offered enough problems without inviting even more in this setting. The more he thought about the situation, the angrier it made him. His rage burned slowly higher. He decided the best course of action was simply to leave. He dropped a twenty on the bar and nodded a farewell to the bartender. He stood up and excused himself through the back door.

Bob didn’t even notice his friend’s departure. Besides he was ready to call it a night himself…so to speak. He pulled the two women towards the back room. Like all the clubs in the Steelworks, this one was ready for his presence. One of the perks of being so beloved by their community. A private room waited in the back and sat empty just for his use. Well, mine and the ladies, he thought.

The two young women followed him gladly. The redhead giggled as she saw the round bed in the middle of the room. Even if they backed out of the deal, he really didn’t have any worries. Just about any of the women in the club were ready and waiting for him at any time. I’m the mother fucking king, he thought. And I’ll get to all them soon enough.

A low but distracting rumble from somewhere outside the front of the club drew his attention briefly away from the ladies. He turned back to them a second later. His eyes ran across the brown girl’s double D chest. Nothing’s going to distract me from this. He grinned as she stumbled down over the bed. He lowered his face between her breasts and slowly ran his tongue up her bare skin. He brought his hands up, unsheathed his cat claws and cut the halter away from her chest. As he lowered his mouth down to her left nipple, he felt the button of his trousers being pulled open. He felt the redhead clutch his manhood before it found its way in to her mouth. Bob groaned his approval.

Outside the rumble grew in decibel level. Within moments it drowned out even the grinding beat of the band outside the door. Through his sex and drug induced haze, Bob couldn’t quite figure out what the noise meant. Is some asshole doing construction work at two a.m.?

Bob heard the explosion before he felt it. A millisecond later the door fell off its hinges and he got his first view of the club. The front wall of the building was gone and shards of concrete had fallen on the panicked crowd. Light radiated from the street and in the midst of it, a nearly seven foot tall man stood in the shattered remains of the wall. Not a man really. All but the lower right half of his face was covered in solid steel, black and metallic in color. It traced down over the entire left half of his body and his right arm as well. The rest of his body was covered by a modified flak vest.

Even through his drunken stupor, Bob Cat recognized the bioengineered super-warrior known as Wargod. Wargod raised his vibro-axe and cleaved the nearest drunken reveler in two. Bob readied himself for a fight. Where Wargod is, Venus de Milo won’t be far behind.

The light from the street flashed brighter momentarily before vanishing completely. An olive-skinned woman walked in to the nightclub through the hole left by the cyborg. She wore a see-through white cover-up. Draped over her shoulders, the wrap barely covered her ample breasts and fell down to form a wrap around her torso. The thin white cloth allowed anyone to see anything if they dared get close enough.

Bob Cat gaped for a moment like he always did when he first saw the drop dead gorgeous brunette. His revelry ended as the supposed goddess raised her arms. The limbs suddenly detached at the shoulders and shot in to the crowd. The hands of the flying limbs quickly wrapped around the throats of two panicking partiers. Almost immediately, her two victim’s skin began to decay as her very touch drained the life from them.

That’s more than enough out of them, Bob Cat thought. He tossed his two dates in to the bed and ran out in the club proper. Without losing a beat, he made a beeline for Wargod. He grabbed the first club-goer he met by the shoulders and spring-boarded up and off the confused man. He sailed over several more members of the panicked crowd and came down straight at Wargod, his claws bared.

His claws scraped against the bigger man’s armored face but only left superficial damage. Bob pushed off of Wargod’s chest and flipped away. Wargod’s vibro-axe swept through where h had been perched only a moment before. When Bob Cat landed, he felt the toll of the drink and drugs took their toll as his feet wobbled under him. Wargod raised his free hand. A pair of barrels ejected from the cyborg’s metal wrist. He fired a pair of slugs in to Bob’s chest. His cat-suit absorbed some of the damage, but Bob could feel the fire in his chest at the points of impact.

Wargod lunged forward and delivered a vicious kick to the side of Bob’s head. Bob fell back to the floor as Wargod hovered over him.

The massive cyborg raised the vibro-axe. “My lady commands your death,” Wargod said in his mechanical voice. “Prepare to die.”

Bob cringed and closed his eyes as the axe swept down towards his head.

*****

Mean Streets, Able, Bob Cat, Death Ray, Jack Flash, and all related characters, are © and ™ 2007-2008 Nicholas Ahlhelm. Metahuman Press is © and ™ 2005-2008 Nicholas Ahlhelm.