Spectrum

One would think that the event that changed the world would have been a worldwide event. In reality, the event was as mundane and localized as one could get. It began with a bank robbery.

The robber didn’t even try to be subtle about what he was going to be doing. He waltzed into the bank with a shimmering gold mask stretched over his eyes. Two golden strands snaked down the sides of his cheeks, obscuring the shape of his face. Two more golden spikes curved upward from the mask, forming the vague shape of a crown.

He wore an eye catching jacket striped in every color of the rainbow. Writing in alternating colors across the back of the jacket proclaimed his name to be Cartridge King. The front of the jacket hung open over two bandoliers, crossing over each other and forming an X across his chest. The bandoliers were packed full of cartridges of every color. A speaker hanging from his neck blared music around the bank.

Cartridge King slammed the doors behind him. He pointed his arm back at it. He wore a large glove, more of a gauntlet really, with a light blue cartridge fitted into a slot just above the wrist. A small nozzle connected to the cartridge. He flexed his hand and a wave of mist sprayed out and splashed over the door. The mist hardened and creaked, leaving a layer of thick and gleaming ice over the door.

Cartridge King ignored most of the people in the bank and waltzed over to the nearest teller. He dropped a duffel bag onto the counter. “Fill ‘er up, please.”

———————————————————————

Not too far away from the bank, settled safely inside of a mostly-abandoned and all-but-forgotten bomb shelter, a man and a woman sat in a circle of half a dozen different computers. Each monitor showed a different view, and the two people were moving around each other with ease, never once looking away from one of the monitors.

The man reached to his ear and pressed a button on his earpiece. “Compound, sensors show your quiver’s almost empty,” he said. “Come back to the bunker for a reload.”

Compound’s responding groan echoed through both of their Commlinks. “Fine,” he responded a moment later. “But have a fresh quiver ready for me, Oriceye. I want to get the FertaTech route done before calling it a night.”

“You just want to climb the tower,” Oriceye countered. Even as he said it, he ducked under the desk and grabbed a quiver of arrows hanging on a rack of quivers.

“Hey, you’re the one who gave me this new grapple gear. Am I supposed to just not use it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Magnetism,” the woman said into her earpiece. “Are you and Iarumas almost done with the uptown patrol?”

“Nearly,” Magnetism said crisply.

“Why?” Iarumas asked. “What’s going on, Oriceye?”

“There’s a bank robbery not too far from you two,” she answered. “One of the hostages started livestreaming it.”

“Seriously?” Oriceye asked, scoffing as he looked at the computer with the livestream pulled up. “Did this perp just forget to take away everyone’s phones?”

“Does he not know how secrecy is supposed to work?” Compound added.

Oriceye ignored the questions, choosing instead to steamroll over their words and continue her report. “Looks like the bad guy’s got some pretty crazy tech. Gauntlets that shoot ice, from the looks of it.”

“Gauntlets?” Magnetism asked flatly.

“Gauntlets,” Oriceye said, nodding even though he wouldn’t be able to see her.

“We’re on our way,” Iarumas decided.

Oriceye leaned over one of the computers, his fingers dancing across the keyboard. “Sending you the coordinates now.”

“Hey!” Compound shouted, causing both Oriceyes to jump. “Don’t leave me out of this! I want to fight the ice guy!”

———————————————————————

The bank had been surrounded by police in record time. None dared enter, however. Not with Cartridge King still inside. Nor could they have entered anyway. The ice on the door held fast, and no one would risk trying a window.

The vents went unnoticed by almost everyone. Almost.

When Cartridge King’s duffel bag was full enough, he tossed it over his shoulder and started walking toward the window facing out to the street. Halfway across the bank’s lobby Cartridge King heard a loud clang. Pain bloomed across his head.

A vent cover had fallen and hit him over the head. It tilted to the side and clattered to the floor. Cartridge King stepped back more to avoid something else falling on him than any other reason. Still, it turned out to be the right decision when something else dropped out of the vent.

Cartridge King stared down at what appeared to be an actual person. He was dressed almost exclusively in black leather. A jacket zipped across his chest, his pants, and even his boots held the gleam of leather. He was crouched on the ground, head bowed and body curled in on himself.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Cartridge King asked.

The figure’s head tilted up. Brown hair fell back away from his face. He wore bulky glasses with thick frames, black of course, and glowing blue lenses. “Iarumas,” he said.

Iarumas still held his arm across his chest. Cartridge King followed it with his eyes. They widened when he registered what exactly Iarumas’ hand was wrapped around. He yelped and stumbled back, but not fast enough. Iarumas yanked a sword from its scabbard and slammed the hilt against Cartridge King’s ankle.

Cartridge King yelped and hopped backwards. He leaned against a desk and lifted his foot, gently rubbing it with one hand. He leveled the other at Iarumas, making sure the guy could see the red cartridge slotted into his gauntlet. Iarumas slowly put his sword back into its scabbard.

“Is this actually happening right now?” Cartridge King asked.

“Yes,” Iarumas said flatly.

“I mean, when I decided to do the whole, you know…” Cartridge King gingerly put his foot down and gestured to his outfit. “Comic book supervillain thing. I figured there’d be at least a bit of time before someone tried to go hero. This is my first time!”

“Okay.”

“And really, you could’ve given me a bit more warning. “I must look a mess.”

“Kinda.”

Cartridge King sighed. “Okay, what’s going on with you? Aren’t you superhero-types supposed to be all quips and jokes?”

“Buddy, you are barking up the wrong tree.”

Cartridge King jolted and turned slightly. He kept one gauntlet pointed at Iarumas and used the other to point at the guy who’d laughed. He wore a blue hoodie, with the hood pulled low over his face. He waved the bow in his hand in some kind of greeting.

“Sup, dude,” the newcomer greeted brightly. He pulled an arrow from the quiver slung over his back. “The name’s Compound.”

Compound hooked the arrow onto his bow and pulled it back, aiming it directly at Cartridge King. Cartridge King flexed his hands slightly. Not enough to fire his cartridges, but enough to show Iarumas and Compound both that they were armed and ready.

“Don’t shoot,” Cartridge King snarled.

Compound hummed. “Nah,” he decided.

Iarumas lunged forward. Cartridge King didn’t react in time. Iarumas grabbed his wrist and yanked his arm up, pointing his hand and gauntlet at the ceiling. Before Cartridge King could even consider firing the other gauntlet, Compound let his arrow fly.

It zoomed under Cartridge King’s shoulder, somehow not touching him at all. Instead it sliced through the strap of the duffel bag. The bag landed on the desk with a soft thump.

“Magnetism,” Compound called out.

Cartridge King followed Compound’s gaze and looked over his shoulder. A third figure stood at the back of the bank. He wore a silver t-shirt and blue pants. He had a blue fanny pack slung over his chest. His sunglasses had red frames. They perfectly matched his red boots and gloves.

Magnetism had his glove pointed at the desk Cartridge King was still leaning on. The desk’s metal legs scraped against the floor and in an instant began to slide back. With the desk yanked away, Cartridge King stumbled and would have fallen completely had it not been for Iarumas. The guy still had one hand on his wrist. The other grabbed his necklace to hold him up.

“For the record, we’re vigilantes,” Iarumas said dryly.

Cartridge King rolled his eyes and let his head drop back. The desk and duffel bag had slid to a stop in front of Magnetism. He pushed the bag away with his red-gloved hand. Except it wasn’t a glove at all.

“That’s a gauntlet, isn’t it,” Cartridge King said flatly. He didn’t bother to ask. He had quite the good view of it. Where Cartridge King had cartridges embedded in his gauntlets, Magnetism seemed to have circular pieces of metal. Magnets, if he were to guess. “Unbelievable. You copycat!”

Magnetism held up his gauntlets. “You know, technically speaking, I had gauntlets first.”

“Yeah!” Compound cheered. “You tell him!”

Cartridge King sighed. He shook his head. “Okay.”

He flexed the wrist still held in Iarumas’ hand. A jet of fire shot out of the cartridge. It shot past Iarumas’ head and scorched the ceiling. Iarumas dropped Cartridge King and jumped back.

Cartridge King cut the fire off and fell back into a roll. He hid behind a desk, which turned out to be the right decision if the following thunk was to be believed. Cartridge King was ninety percent sure that an arrow had just been embedded into the desk.

His thumbs pressed the release buttons on the sides of his gauntlets and he shook his hands. The mechanisms holding the cartridges in place came undone and they swung around to stick out just below his hands. He swiped them across his bandoliers, pushing the old cartridges out for new ones. One purple and one blue.

One last shake of his hands and the cartridges clicked back into place.

And not a moment too soon. The desk started rattling and slid along the floor, stealing Cartridge King’s hiding place. He looked up just in time to see Iarumas rushing forward. The hand with the purple cartridge shot out. A blast of air shot out and caught Iarumas, sending him flying across the lobby. He landed just in front of a group of people who, for some reason, hadn’t run when Cartridge King walked in. The people let out a scream.

Cartridge King turned his attention to Compound. He sent out a blast of ice before he even registered that Compound had shot again. The arrow froze in midair. It dropped to the ground between the two of them, shattering on impact.

Cartridge King rushed to the side again, swapping out his cartridges as he went. One for a green and yellow cartridge, and the other for a yellow and green. He leveled both his gauntlets at Compound.

The abandoned vent cover started rattling on the ground. It lifted up and started zipping toward his legs. Cartridge King jumped over the grate. He touched down directly in front of Compound. The vigilante just smirked at Cartridge King.

Yet again, something slammed against Cartridge King’s head. He dropped to the ground beside the falling grate. A magnet had been stuck to one side of it. Cartridge King hit the ground and fired from his gauntlets.

Instead of dousing Compound completely, two separate liquids splashed over his shoes. They mixed and solidified slightly, creating a sticky and rubbery coating that pinned Compound to the floor.

“Hey!” Compound shouted, affronted. He tried lifting his foot, but the substance dragged it back down. He even jumped, but he barely lifted off the ground before being forced back down. He couldn’t even fall properly. “Iarumas!”

“On it,” Iarumas responded.

He began charging toward the two of them. Cartridge King made his way back to his feet and swapped out his cartridges to prepare for an attack, but it didn’t come. Iarumas dropped down and slid behind Compound, swinging his sword at the sticky substance. Compound lifted his foot so the blade wouldn’t cut through him. It sliced through a bit of the substance before it bounced away.

Compound groaned when his foot was finally dragged back down. “Okay,” he muttered. “Okay. We’re gonna try that again.”

The vent cover started sliding again. Cartridge King let out a hiss when it slammed against his shoulder, spinning him away from the others and forcing him to face Magnetism. The grate latched onto the magnet in his gauntlet. Then, with no warning at all, it launched itself back at Cartridge King. It slammed against his chest.

Cartridge King stumbled back. The vent cover, now thoroughly dented, reversed course to return to Magnetism. Cartridge King let out a snarl, his eye twitching. His hand snapped out, a stream of fire flowing out. The flames engulfed the vent cover. It kept moving and was soon pulled out of the flames. The red hot metal was warped and bending even as it kept getting pulled towards Magnetism.

Magnetism replaced one gauntleted hand with the other. The vent cover changed tracks before it could hit him, instead flying back where it came from. Right toward Cartridge King.

Cartridge King yelped and instinctively shot a blast of ice at the grate. The glowing metal froze in an instant. It shattered in midair. Shards of ice and metal shrapnel flew towards Cartridge King. He barely got his arms up in front of his face before the shrapnel pelted his body. They ripped through his jacket and forced him back. It didn’t feel like any of them were able to break through his skin, but he could already tell he’d be a constellation of bruises soon enough.

The flurry of shards stopped after a few moments. Cartridge King lowered his arms, ready to hide behind them again should more shrapnel show up. Instead someone grabbed his arms and shoved them back up, pointing his gauntlets away from anyone and anything.

Cartridge King squirmed and struggled to pull his hands free. Compound’s grip was too strong. He hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head in an exaggerated manner. “Not quite what we were going for,” he admitted. “But hey, it worked out. Thanks for that. Have you ever considered vigilantism? You seem to have a knack for taking out bank robbers.”

Cartridge King jolted and glared at Compound. “You did not just-” A strip of fabric was wrapped around his head and pulled into his mouth. He again tried to pull free, but he had even less luck this time.

“Be quiet,” Iarumas said as he tied off the gag.

It was the most humiliating moment of Cartridge King’s life. He could only stand there while the vigilantes stripped him of his gauntlets. Then his jacket. And finally his array of cartridges. With those gone, they’d forced him to his knees with his hands behind his back.

Magnetism produced some zip ties from his fanny pack that were used to bind his wrists together. Then his ankles together. And finally, just for that last little kick, they’d bound his wrists to his ankles. Cartridge King glared at the three of them in turn, grumbling through his gag.

Magnetism nodded down at Cartridge King. “Can we just leave him here?”

“The ice is melting,” Iarumas pointed out. “Give it a few minutes and the police’ll come and get Spectrum.”

Cartridge King and Compound both perked up and looked at Iarumas, though for entirely different reasons. “Ooh! Spectrum! That’s what we’re calling him?!”

Cartridge King shook his head.

“He looks like a Spectrum.”

Cartridge King jolted, trying in vain to shout at the vigilantes through the gag. When that didn’t work, he settled for furiously nodding his head toward his jacket. It lay in a heap, but the words Cartridge King were clearly visible.

The vigilantes ignored him.

Compound slung his bow over his shoulder and clapped his hands. “There we go! Spectrum taken care of, everyone’s alright.” He paused for a moment and turned to the corner where everyone still in the bank were huddled together. “Everyone’s alright, right?” A few people gave him shaky nods. Compound nodded decisively. “Everyone’s alright. So, should we get back to base? Victory smoothies on me.”

“Uh, guys?” Magnetism began carefully.

“What is it?”

“What’s up?”

Magnetism pointed back to the people huddled together. One person at the front held a phone up in her shaking hand. “We forgot the livestream.”

“Oh.” Compound lifted a hand to his ear. “How many people are watching?” Evidently he had some kind of earpiece in, because he nodded as if someone spoke. “Well. So much for the whole super secret vigilante thing.”

“We need to go,” Iarumas declared. He jumped up at the vent he’d entered through. He grabbed the edge of it and pulled himself out of sight. Magnetism positioned himself underneath the opening and held up a gauntleted hand. He was pulled up and disappeared. Compound shot an arrow with a wire through the opening. He paused to look at the camera.

“Well, since secrecy’s out the window, you can call us the Orica Fighters.” Compound waved for the camera. “Later!” The wire started retracting and pulled him up and out of sight.

Cartridge King glared at the vent. Even when the police finally entered the bank and dragged him away, he kept his gaze on the vent for as long as possible. He had no doubt that he could break out of whatever jail they threw him into. And once he did, he’d have to start preparing. Preparing for encountering those vigilantes, those Orica Fighters, again.

There was no way he wouldn’t run into them again. He refused to just run away. They’d only bested him this time because he’d been caught off guard. He’d be ready next time. And he knew there’d be a next time. There wouldn’t not be.

They would be back.