Wyldfyre arrived at the field with several of his teammates from the Star Force and the Star Force Junior League. Not only had Director Nova sent out the alert to go to the location but Starmaster, founder of their leagues, originated the call for assistance.
"Catalyst," Wyldfyre said as he stood directly behind the shuttle's pilot chair. "I'll give you ten points for each cretin you squash with this jalopy of yours."
"Keep points," Catalyst replied while flicking some switches as the VTOL engines kicked in. "Get ready to fight."
"You don't need give me instructions on that front, nerd," Wyldfyre smirked as she cracked his knuckles and walked to the door leading outside. "I'm always ready to kick something in the teeth. They messed with the wrong person today."
Several other flight capable members of the teams cleared a space for the shuttle to land from outside the vessel. Chained Angel swept down from the sky, her wings black as night as she a wide swing with a staff that glowed with divine energy at its tips, knocking several mercenaries away like clippings from the chute of a lawnmower. Electrical bolts strafed the ground, sending others running away in terror from the path of The Infinite Tempest as he descended from a stormcloud.
Arcane Ace twisted his fingers in strange, delicate patterns form inside the shuttle and translucent black tentacles grew out of the ground in a circle around the area Catalyst hovered above. The ameba-like pseudopods slapped any left over mercenaries clear of the designated landing zone.
The shuttle landed as soon as the ground below was clear of bodies beneath it, and with that, the exterior doors opened and Wyldfyre stepped out. "Alrighty then, who's ready for a little barbeque?"
Flames spewed out of the engines and curled around the ship under Wyldfyre's control. He drove them into the nearest group of mercenaries, aiming for their feet and the grass-covered ground below them. The intense heat dried the grass instantly and ignited, along with the boots of the mercenaries standing in the thermal zone. The black-clad men leapt from the flames, dropping and rolling on the ground as they attempted to smother the flames.
"You guys must be fairly experienced," Wyldfyre shouted to them as he walked down the ramp, followed by Arcane Ace, Silver Paladin, and Prysmatica. "I don't hear you screamin' yet."
"Do you see any sign of Starmaster?" Prysmatica asked. "I hope he's ok."
"Not yet," Wyldfyre said. "We'll need to clear a path. And of course he is fine. It's going to take a lot more than a handful of mercs to slow him down."
"This is more than a handful, I'd say," Arcane Ace said. He made another mystical gesture and raised both hands into the air as if lifting a heavy barbell. Several yards away, two mercenaries lifted into the air and launched into the sky as if weightless. "They could have overwhelmed him."
"Talking isn't going to find him." Silver Paladin touched the side of his helmet. "Catalyst, give me a direction to Starmaster's comm device. I'll start clearing a path." As the armored hero lowered his arm, a long, glowing, blue blades slid out of housings on his wrists. He looked to the south and began to jog in that direction, slicing into any mercenary bold enough to try to intercept him.
"You're not going without us, buddy," Wyldfyre shouted as he began to follow. Flanked by the rest of the group, except for Catalyst who kept in the shuttle, using its capabilities to create the equivalent of an armored fortress for them to return to, the heroes headed out in search of Starmaster.
Using each of their unique abilities, they dispatched countless mercenaries in their path. Various bolts and beams of energy ripped into their opposition's armor, peeling it away. Once made vulnerable, either Wyldfyre's flames or Arcane Ace's magic further dissuaded attacks. If that wasn't enough, Chained Angel's staff or Silver Paladin's blades discouraged the boldest of mercs. Like an icebreaking vessel through a frozen lake, the obstacle that the mercenaries created with their bodies broke beneath the heroes pointed advance.
Hundreds of other heroes joined in and engaged in combat vs the horde of black-clad agents of some unknown organization. Wyldfyre surveyed the scene as he created a wall of flames to hold a sizable group of mercenaries at bay. The rest of his group moved up to meet the fresh opposition while Wyldfyre pause, bracing his body by dropping to a knee while concentrating on increasing the temperature and size of the barrier.
"Hey, Quan, is that you?" A voice asked.
Wyldfyre looked around, searching for the source, not knowing how it knew his real name. He spotted one of the mercenaries on the ground gesturing at him. "Do I know you?"
"It is you. Hey man, haven't seen you since that job in Onnotangu." The merc raised up his goggles, revealing a man with a scarred face Wyldfyre recognized from his past in the Middle East.
"Emil? I thought you died in that raid on the compound in Tehran." Wyldfyre thought back on his days as a mercenary himself. When his Morphon powers first emerged, becoming a hero was the last thing on his mind. After being booted from college for setting his dorm room on fire, he hired himself out as a goon to the highest bidder. Polite society might not be looking for anyone who can start most anything on fire, but that didn't mean some unscrupulous types couldn't find some ways to take advantage of his new powers.
"Nah. I just let most people think I did," Emil said. He cocked his head to one side and gave Wyldfyre a confused stare. "When did you become a cape?"
"Do you see a cape on my back?" Wyldfyre snarled.
"If that's the case, I bet our boss would pay you big buxs to come over to our side," Emil said.
Wyldfyre dropped the wall of fire holding back the advancing group. Most of the mercenaries had moved around his blaze, but a dozen or so remained. Standing and brushing off his kneepad, Wyldfrye walked over to Emil and helped him stand. "How much are we talking? They make a better offer than these jokers, you and I might be on the same side again. Who's running this gig? They must have deep pockets to bring in this many noob freelancers."
<to be continued>
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