Book 2: Chapter 94: Greater Evil (1/2)

Gregoir woke in darkness, surrounded by the gripping cold. He couldn't move; his body was held immobile by frozen walls of ice. His heart raced as that old and familiar memory replayed, the roar of a collapsing building and the feeling of concrete pressing down on his chest. He remembered the echoing sirens and the overwhelming, all-consuming fear. But Gregoir did not falter, because fear was an old friend. It wrapped him in its familiar embrace, whispering its transparent lies into his ears. It promised weakness and death, an end to all that was good, and Gregoir accepted it gladly.

For what was fear if not fuel for courage?

The engine of his existence roared defiantly in his chest, and he flexed his mighty will! His fighting spirit surged, devouring the fear with hungry fervor! Muscles and sinew, skin and bone, strength unbound by his mortal frame all strained against the walls of his prison and the walls gave first! The sound of shattering ice filled Gregoir's ears as he twisted and turned and strained! His cage broke into pieces, raining ice chips down his broad back.

He was free!

And still in darkness. Some manner of light was now peeking in from above, and he appeared to be surrounded by—

More ice.

Hm. That wouldn't do. Now free to maneuver, he fell into a crouch. The floor, he noted, was smooth tile, though iced over. He glanced up, towards the light. His destination was nigh! Legs tensed, arms braced, muscles strained. He lowered his head, tucking it against his chest as his body quivered in anticipation.

With a triumphant bellow, he jumped! The floor broke as he rocketed skyward. He met the ceiling with all the force of a freight train. His shoulders took the impact, those strong, reliable wrecking balls. The ice crumpled like paper mache hit by a baseball bat; its structure collapsed around him as he rose. Gregoir breached the surface at speed, rising a good thirty feet into the air as the dying light of an evening sun reached his eyes. He spun in the air, taking in his surroundings.

Ice. Blue frost, wherever he looked, layered thick like the heaviest snowfall in the world. The Arctic had come to Austin. Where was he? It took Gregoir a few second to remember. The National Guard command post was completely unrecognizable. Tucked between a pair of skyscrapers in the corner of downtown Austin, the NG had taken over a large parking garage. The entire structure was nothing more than a block of ice. Gregoir landed heavily on the roof, having breached an entire floor without realizing it. The position gave him an unobstructed view of the disaster.

The neighboring skyscrapers were frozen over in their entirety. His heart stilled at the sight; thousands of civilians remained inside each building. He could only hope it was the exterior alone that had been frozen. The people within could be released, in time. Beyond the parking garage, ice blanketed the surrounding streets ten feet high. National Guard vehicles were engulfed in ice wherever they sat. The exits were essentially inaccessible by anything other than foot. It made for an odd looking image, almost an arena in its construction.

This was well beyond anything Coldeyes had ever displayed before, eclipsing even his earlier display against the Austin SPEAR Teams and his raid on the power plant. There was a breathtaking level of power on display here, and not for the first time Gregoir wondered if the military had given this threat the appropriate level of attention. The Crew's namesake had just unleashed a decapitating strike against the National Guard's leadership, and few, if any, remained standing.

The thought stirred anger in his belly. He was here to protect against just such an eventuality, though it was thought that Cannibal would have been the People's weapon of choice. The NG commanders had assured him they were prepared for all eventualities, but the simple truth of the matter was that they had no Natural to counter Coldeyes. They relied entirely on military-grade upgrades which, while potent, could not directly contend with the kind of higher order Natural that Coldeyes obviously was.

On offense, in a coordinated strike? Any Natural would fall easily beneath the military's perfectly tuned upgrades and perfect coordination. But put on the back foot? In a defensive position after a powerful alpha strike? Victory would be hard won. Especially against someone like Coldeyes, who excelled in open spaces like the city.

Gregoir's fist clenched tight, as he realized the truth: it would be up to him. He was under no illusions about his own capabilities; he was a powerful Natural, quite possibly the strongest individual present in this building. And if he wasn't, then he would simply push until he was. Gregoir Pierre-Louise could not balk, he could not doubt, and he could not give up.

His fighting spirit flared to life, a burning maelstrom in his chest that fought away the cold!

Gregoir's ears picked up the sounds of combat. He turned, searching. It was distant gunfire and something else. The hissing pop of ice becoming steam. Gregoir reoriented himself, gathered his strength, and leapt! The ground shattered beneath him as he rocketed across the length of the garage. He landed at the far end. His feet slammed into ice, dug in deep, and pushed! He launched himself over the edge, roaring in defiance as he shot towards the battle.

Gregoir fell in a parabolic arc, the city zipping past him. Ice coated the streets and buildings, locking in civilians and vehicles. Gregoir could see people moving beyond the thin sheets of ice. They seemed unharmed, though curious. Faces peeked through increasingly transparent ice as Gregoir flew past, wide eyes following his trail.