“Slow down!” Nick yelled, and Gus hit the brakes, throwing out two ether lashes that slammed him to one side of the sphere. “Well, not that much.”
“Dammit, you scared me,” Gus said, resuming his climb, sliding up in a rappelling fashion to avoid too much speed.
“That’s better, we should be good as far as oxygen is concerned,” Nick reported.
Gus saw the outer sphere stretch back to its old dimensions. He had expected more complications or having to worry about the bends. He just felt… normal, albeit tired. He was exhausted from all the mental exertion, but he was sure he would bounce back if given just a small time to recover.
The ascent was much quicker and more relaxing than the descent, and took a mere fraction of the time. When he broke the surface, the sunshine felt heavenly. He hadn’t realized he felt chilled to the bone with the mental focus required to maintain the spheres under pressure.
He lay down in the inner sphere and put his arms behind his head. Using an ether leash, he lazily pulled himself back toward the beach where Aurora was still waiting. The hot sun filtered through the clear spheres and Gus basked in the release of pressure and tension he had felt while constantly flexing his mental muscles. The sphere bobbed on the waves, but in his inner sphere, the rocking motion was soothing rather than jarring.
He began to feel drowsy and sat up. Looking towards the beach, he noticed that he was getting close, but still a good half mile away. Aurora’s comm finally managed to reach him.
“Gus! Can you hear me yet? Gus. Gus!”
“Okay, I can hear you, what’s up?”
“Did you get what you went for?”
“Yes, no problems or complications.”
“Then, what are you doing floating in the ball? Did you forget you can fly?”
“Um, I needed to recharge my MP after resurfacing,” he lied. He really just hadn’t thought of it, flying wasn’t ‘normal’ for him yet. “I think my MP is high enough now, I’ll be right there.”
Allowing the outer sphere to disperse, Gus pulled the tethers holding the Kroutonium and canister of Nth to him and allowed the inner sphere to pop as he took flight, keeping himself dry.
He sailed back to shore carrying his loot, intent on making more hybrid-Nth.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cat’s in the Cradle
“Father, we need to talk!”
Tempest looked over his shoulder. “Not now, I’m in the middle of something—”
“I challenge you to a duel of supremacy for your title,” Cyclone said, almost shouting.
Tempest turned and saw his son standing there with his hands on his hips, trying to look bold. Rampage and Aftershock stood behind him, smug looks on their faces. It was obvious what was happening here. Unable to beat him in a fight themselves, they were using his son to make a power grab. Cowards.
“Cyclone, don’t do this. These are not the individuals you want to side with in the Faction. They are going nowhere and want to use you as their puppet.”
“They told me you would try to confuse me and keep me from my rightful place. Father, you have had your time and now I am stepping up to claim the role. Purple Faction must evolve! We have clung to old ideas for too long and the other factions are outpacing us. I will not allow you to hold us back any longer!”
Insanity. How did they convince him to do this? “We will discuss this later; I am in the middle of something important—”
“You are always in the middle of something. Do you forfeit to avoid the challenge? It sounds like you are afraid,” he said, gaining confidence.
Tempest narrowed his eyes. “Enough. You realize what this means for you when you lose though, don’t you? You will lose your ability to challenge another until you are challenged, which is unlikely as a class D super in the Faction. You will be stuck there with no possibility for promotion, as a failed challenge will lock you in that tier.”
“I am not afraid,” he said, trembling voice betraying his uncertainty.
Sighing deeply, he turned to one of the administrators nearby. “Set it up, and let me know the time.”
“I have already taken the liberty to set everything up. The arena is ready and the council is gathered.”
Those weasels! Tempest gritted his teeth and stared at Rampage and Aftershock, who shrunk slightly behind Cyclone. It took all his control not to attack them directly, which would lead to even worse repercussions. He would be stripped of rank and incarcerated until there could be a trial. He didn’t have time to be out of commission.
Realizing how well they had orchestrated the entire encounter, Tempest relented and followed them to the arena. Apparently, he had been so caught up in the search that he had not seen them rallying. The arena was full to the brim with members of Purple Faction and he was even more surprised to see that the majority were rooting for his son.
What had he done to them? Or was this more of Rampage’s handiwork? If he didn’t know better, he would have suspected they had been using a Psi-manipulation power. Rampage could vibrate objects, especially large ones, and cause them to crumble and break. He had no mental abilities. The same with Aftershock; he only had the ability to cause earthquakes and form pits and traps by manipulating the ground below a battle. Less useful powers against other supers, and both ineffective against him, since he could fly. It was clear now why they didn’t oppose him directly.
“Cy-clone, Cy-clone, Cy-clone!” the crowd chanted, and Tempest thought he saw a couple people he didn’t recognize inciting the mob. If he had to guess, they were mercs that Rampage had hired and outfitted with Purple Faction uniforms. It burned Tempest that he could not call out his
