The Ultimate Nullifier
The Irresistible Force Paradox (1.7)
“It’s a good life.”
“Not at the moment, moron.”
My immature teammate needed the admonishment. We were currently taking cover behind an overturned Toyota due to his itchy trigger finger. Purple pellets of zero-point energy perforated every piece of surrounding property. A protective bubble made of antimatter was the only thing keeping us intact. The temporary reprieve from shredding shrapnel provided no safe haven from stupidity.
Mark S. Mann was more concerned with my own scattershot aim. I totally missed the target. “No, that’s the episode of The Twilight Zone I was trying to remember in the car on the way over. ‘It’s a Good Life.’ Little boy plays God. It doesn’t go well.”
“Sounds about right in every respect,” I replied. A mental image of Alex Larsen’s stupid ugly mug populated in my purview.
“That’s the basic conceit,” Mark continued. “Your ex-boyfriend turned the entire planet into Peaksville. We’re all living in Ohio now. I’d rather be in Hell, personally. You really might be the most devastating weapon in the universe.” He started to cackle amidst the kinetic fire.
I swiped left with a single finger through thin air and still managed to slap him silly. My control of the null force was so absolute it didn’t require physical contact. Mark’s specialized headgear clanged against the undercarriage of the car. His targeting goggles were knocked askew. It forced him to straighten up.
“Sorry.”
We were nose to nose now. “Is this a joke to you? The Daily Planet called me the ‘Ultimate Nullifier’ in human form. They’re saying I’m some kind of superpowered Trojan Horse due to this demented doofus. It’s spread to TMZ now. I’m the new Kylie, for Christ’s sake. This shit is not funny to me. I have a family.”
Mark put his palms up as a plea for silent forgiveness. I gave him a single head nod and returned my attention to the encroaching horde on the other side of the car.
The gaggle of extradimensional demons was hard to miss. Thousands of four-legged shadowbeasts shrieked into the starless sky to underscore the severity of our situation. It was preferred to them spitting purple hellfire, but the feedback indicated they would soon be lodging a formal complaint in person. I knew we didn’t have another moment to spare.
“Kid, they have us dead to rights,” I declared. “The rest of the Alpha Dogs are scattered to the four winds. No backup appears to be forthcoming. I’m going to have to do a street sweep. Otherwise, we’re mincemeat. I want you to run from the fight as fast as you can with your tail tucked between your legs. That’s an order.”
Mark saluted and sprang to his feet. He had more pep in his step than seemed appropriate given the pending desertion. His laser rifle was tossed onto the nearby lawn to free himself of every last encumbrance. The shootist started to stretch. “Can you give me a thirty second head start before you go supernova?”
“No promises, pipsqueak. You need to make like Speed Freak and skedaddle on the double.”
Mark thought it was an appropriate time to pontificate about prohibition. The kid was going to get our entire team killed one day. “Speed’s a total smackhead. Dude has to down every drug under the sun to keep up appearances. The caffeine intake alone is going to kill him. We need to have an intervention. It’s not worth him becoming an altered beast for our benefit.”
My patience for the impassive plebe was officially exhausted. Mark needed every ounce of energy he could muster. I offered a succinct response to save our breath.
The commandment served as a starter pistol. Mark began to sprint in the opposite direction with a disconcerting lack of foot speed. The out of shape sniper was moving at a snail’s pace. A small divot in the cement almost caused him to take a spill. The display sickened me, but a renewed focus on physical fitness would have to wait.
My only mission at the moment was slaughtering all the hellhounds from outer space.
Once Mark reached minimum safe distance, I began charging my internal battery. The translucent barrier forming a plasma ball around my body started to swell and expand at lightning speed. Larsen’s sell-sword company of celestial dirt devils went scurrying for cover, but the delayed effort was all for naught. I detonated a psychokinetic powder keg that sent spiraling iridescent light in every direction. The anti-matter incendiary device incinerated every interstellar acolyte in sight.
I knew ridding myself of Black Mass would require something stronger than radiation.
It called for the kind of Kryptonite that only one person on the planet possessed.
Luckily, I was permanently stocked with Alex Larsen anti-venom.
My infernal ex slowly ascended through the asphalt a few feet in front of me. His body and the boulevard bled into one another as he continued to rise. Finally escaping the underworld left Alex floating a few inches off the pavement. He thumbed his nose at physics from above before finally coming back down to earth in corporeal form. Larsen’s transition to ground level was smooth and seamless. The Satan stand-in didn’t make a sound.
Alex no longer had irises. His eyes were eight-balls.
“If you’ve come here to defeat my herald in a fight, you are destined to fail,” the fake fiend proclaimed. “Your souls are irretrievably intertwined. Fate alone dictated that outcome. Swimming against the tide will lead to endless struggle. It’s written in the stars. This is an eternal war you cannot win.”
Larsen’s doppelganger received an appropriately devilish grin in response.
“I wasn’t looking to declare victory, dummy. I came here to surrender.”
Alex Larsen immediately returned to the land of the living.
I took a step back to admire my handiwork. “Wow, dude. I honestly assumed it was going to require more effort. Some metaphysical fisticuffs, at a minimum. This is the easiest exorcism I’ve ever conducted. You’re a cheap date, sailor.”
Larsen patted himself down in several random places to ensure they continued to persist. Satisfied, he slowly started to smile.
“How bad is the damage? Will another woman ever love me?”
My face scrunched. It forced me to squint. “You look terrible. Just horrific. A bag over your head might be for the best. Facial hair’s certainly never been your friend. Did they conduct your soul swap in a dirt cellar or something?”
“Yes, actually.”
His admission killed the mood. I began brushing him off out of embarrassment.
“Apologies, but we have another problem. Pen Bank issued a bounty for your dearly departed body. I’m not looking to partake, but every other metahuman on Earth wants your head, including my husband. His rationale might have less to do with the financial reward, honestly. Neither here nor there. We have to get you into hiding until I can grind Moon Man into lunar dust. Eliminating his gravitational pull from above is the only way to get this weight off you.”
“That doesn’t even make scientific sense. I think it’s best I take the weight off both of us and bounce.” Larsen’s body began to shift between dimensions, but the effect was fleeting. The void remained just out of reach. “Sorry. It appears I’m still in recovery mode. Give me ten and I’ll have enough juice to phase myself out of here.”
He received a finger flick full of null force to the forehead. It stopped him dead in his tracks. “The whole point was to draw you out in the open. I’m the bait, buttercup. Whiz Kid built a vacuum bomb at the government’s behest. It won’t have any effect on the little people, but anything made of pure dark matter will be snuffed out in a split second. That means you, boss. Thing has an impact radius of five miles, and we’ve got that many minutes before it blows—and we have to make it look like you were killed in the blast. Otherwise, the Alpha Dogs will keep hounding you to the ends of the Earth.”
Larsen’s level of anxiety was ratcheting up to its standardized social setting. He began to sweat. “How are you intending to execute my flight from the fiery furnace? Do you have a metahuman Houdini on standby that I don’t know about?”
I shook off the suggestion. “Escape Artist can’t be trusted. He’s a master of manipulation. Don’t ever put on his handcuffs. Despite what he says, they definitely require a key.”
Alex suddenly realized I was being serious.
“I was kidding,” he confirmed.
The solution to all our problems was strapped to my back the entire time. I removed the custom-made duffle bag and threw it down on the ground between us with a grin.
“It’s the equivalent of a Faraday Cage for your void-containing carcass. I preyed upon Mr. Fix-It’s professional jealousy and had it commissioned. Luckily, he hates Whiz Kid like the dickens. I know it may be a tight squeeze, but you’re the king of making yourself look small. It should be the perfect fit.”
“Very funny—but I think you’ve forgotten how dense I am.”
The statement made me snicker. I cocked my head to the side to really sell it. “Alex, I assure you the immensity of your density is something that has been permanently seared into my subconscious.”
He started to strip down to his skivvies with a snide look that I did not appreciate in the slightest. “Are you sure you can handle me for the long haul?”
It was a loaded question.
“I’ve been carrying you since high school, Alex. I’m just trying to get this thing across the finish line.”
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The story (so far) in sequential order:
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