#quirkeykayleetam

[burtlederp]

Broken Pieces Superhero AU

 Many, many, many, many thanks to @quirkykayleetam, who is a fantastic and patient editor and collaborator on this beauty! I’m the one posting it this time, as I ended up writing most of it... XD Boy am I glad it’s done! I hope y’all enjoy!

tw: blood, guns, cartoon villainy except that there’s Gatling guns and giant automatons

Chapter 3: Same Old, Same Old

A few days passed since Damien and Daniel met. They were quiet, Damien going about his usual business as the rest of the town was. 

Then the power went out.

That in and of itself was only a minor issue; a good portion of the town's populace already powered their homes with generators or lived near some who did to share.

It was an issue, however, when the supervillain Roman blew up the bridge of the one road leading into and out of town, as well as the airstrip. It probably wouldn’t have been as much of an issue to everybody but he just happened to choose the day the Walmart delivery truck arrived. 

Damien was tired, having finished a graveyard shift and gone straight to his job at the gas station, but duty called. He “suddenly” came down with a bad case of the flu, quickly changed in a hidden spot, and hurried to the police station where he got the details: Roman was holding the whole town hostage and would continue to do so until he’d received $20,000 in cash from the Alaskan governor. Whether or not the governor had heard and was organizing rescue of some sort was unknown, as all signals seemed to be jammed.

It was a very standard situation for the Alchemist, maybe a bit bigger than Roman usually went, but nonetheless simple and straightforward: Find Roman, punch him a bit, then then let him run away. The Alchemist saves the day! Easy

Alchemist didn’t even think of the Rogue as he made laps around the town, garbed in his usual summer costume, searching made a little more difficult by the summer foliage. He checked a few spots downtown that he checked every time Roman showed his face, then moved his way down the highway to the bridge. The overpass was guarded by two large brass automatons both wielding large spears that looked to be attached to chain of large bullets which looped up over their shoulders. There was no sign of Roman himself, and assuming those spears were more than they appeared, the Alchemist kept low and out of sight as he moved on, searching.

The Alchemist found Roman at the destroyed airstrip. Three large automatons patrolled the area and the aircraft hangar seemed to be the center of operations. The Alchemist could see Roman from his hiding spot in the trees, the villain sitting proudly on his mobile throne. Ed, the town’s only pilot was chained to a chair while some poor kidnapped cameraman sat tensely beside him cradling a large TV camera.

 The stage was set. It was time for the games to begin.

The automatons patrolled rather closely to the hangar itself; sneaking between them would be difficult and risky. They were large, about twenty feet high each, all with those probably-a-Gatling-gun spears in their hands and, on top of that, Alchemist already knew that being punched by one of those things would suck. The robots’ “eyes”’ were two large globular implants hidden behind their helmets. Roman’s large tank was parked out front, obscuring clear vision into the hangar, whose main door was open. Only one plane inside was still untouched; the mayor’s was destroyed, currently being torn even further asunder by one of Roman’s confounded fabrication machines. Prioritizing, Alchemist knew that Roman himself was not the real threat here: it was the automatons.

 “What’s the easiest way to take down a person?” Alchemist rubbed his jaw, hidden beneath his mask. “Well, tripping them, but I have no rope or chain, so…” Alchemist’s eye was drawn to a young, tall spruce growing nearby, and a very stupid idea came to mind.

 It was difficult, a little more than Alchemist anticipated, but only a few minutes later he had bent the spruce back so far it was about to split, and it was all he could do to keep his feet on the ground and the tree top in his gloved hands. Teeth gritted, he took aim and waited for an automaton to move into place. Just a little further, a little further…

THWISH-CRK!

The Alchemist sent himself flying through the air perhaps a bit faster than he anticipated, careening towards a brass head before smacking into it definitely harder than he had wanted to. He had planned to land and put something over the thing’s eyes, but instead the head caved under his foot, the body toppling over onto the hangar. He pushed off, somersaulting as he hit the roof, the body of the automaton slumping off the edge with its head destroyed. He skidded to a stop, looking over his shoulder, and turned back around to see the other two automatons looking down at him, their eyes glowing and their spears raised. With barely enough time to curse, The Alchemist leapt to the side dodging a wave of bullets. The hero ran across the thin roof towards the side of the building where he knew the fabrication machine sat, well aware that those bullets were piercing straight through the steel.

“Please don’t hit the hostages please don’t hit the hostages pleeeeeease…” he begged internally. He slid off the edge of the roof, briefly holding on to the lip before dropping to the ground below. The automatons were moving, stepping around to spot him again, but he moved faster, darting around the corner to enter the hangar, where he ran right into Roman himself. The pair collided hard and fell apart onto the ground.

“Alchemist, you fuc--!” Roman spat, glaring at him, but Alchemist wasn’t paying attention to him--he was more interested in the golden head poking out from around the back of the building. The hero leapt to his feet, grabbing Roman by the cape and throwing him hard against the interior wall, pinning him.

“Call off the automatons, Roman!” Alchemist hissed. 

“What, you think I’m going to do it just because you asked nicely?” Roman retorted, hands on Alchemist’s wrists. 

“No, you’re going to do it because I told you to,” the Alchemist’s eyes narrowed, and Roman felt a heat on his shoulders, through his armor. Roman’s eyes widened, and his hands moved fast, faster than Alchemist anticipated. He was forced to rear back as a sharp spear suddenly shot from Roman’s gauntlet towards his face. The Alchemist could feel its sharp point graze his hood as he leapt back. Roman stood there, breathing hard, eyes narrowed.

“You trying to kill me?!”  the Alchemist spat.

“I could ask you the same thing, idiot!” Roman snarled, tapping a button on his control gauntlet. A nozzle rose from his tank. Alchemist braced, and was surprised as a jet of water shot out, spraying Roman. Distracted, he didn’t see the tank also prep another shot, and was suddenly engulfed by a chain net that knocked him off his feet and wrapped around him. He struggled with it, trying to get free, but was bound quite tight. Roman stood over him, frowning, and glanced at the cameraman, who had the camera raised and recording.

“You! Turn that off, just for a minute!” He ordered. The cameraman obeyed. 

Roman then turned back to the Alchemist, who glared daggers up at him. Roman bent down, taking hold of the chains and lifting the Alchemist’s head off the ground so he could look him better in the face.

“Al, look, just a quick aside with you,” Alchemist stared up at his archnemesis suspiciously, eyes narrowed, and Roman ignored him and continued. “You can use acid, okay? You can use acid on my machines, on chains, walls, prison cells, whatever. But for the love of Pete, don’t fucking use hydroflouric acid on me. Do you realize how powerful that stuff is?” the Alchemist blinked, now looking a little confused.

“It’s really fucking powerful, okay? Really. Fucking. Dangerous. Don’t use it on me again, or I swear next time we meet, I will actually kill you. Understand?” Roman tipped his head a bit so the Alchemist could see his eyes a bit better through his helmet. The Alchemist looked him up and down, and then nodded. 

“I wanna hear you say it, Al.” Roman raised an eyebrow. Alchemist sighed, rolling his eyes, and Roman shook him with the chains. “Say it, Al. If it’ll make sure you don’t do it again, you can give me your own condition.” The Alchemist’s face brightened.

 “Don’t use armor-piercing bullets on me anymore. I’m not wearing kevlar or some shit,” the Alchemist responded almost immediately. Roman thought over it a second and nodded.

“Alright, deal.”

The Alchemist reached a hand awkwardly through the hole of the chains, and the two shook on it. 

“Back to fighting?” the Alchemist inquired.

“Yep. Roll cameras.” Roman motioned to the perplexed cameraman, who fumbled and got the camera rolling again just in time to see the Alchemist push off the floor with his hands and uppercut the villain as he flipped through the air like a spinning log. He landed heavily back on the floor on his stomach, Roman staggering backwards. 

“You--! How did you even do that!” 

Roman popped his spear from his gauntlet, flicking it into full-length and charging at the Alchemist. The herot didn't wait, pushing himself some more and rolling, managing to stay just clear of the spear head--until he didn't, and it plunged into his back. The Alchemist shouted in pain, gripping the chains in his hands tightly.

 "That's what you get, Alchemist!" Roman spat.

The Alchemist bit back another yelp as Roman pulled the spear out, pressing his face against the concrete, only to give a strained gasp as the spearhead stabbed into his bicep. Roman yanked the spear out, readying another stab, but was not nearly fast enough as The Alchemist rolled out of the way, getting to his feet, the chains sloughing off him with edges sizzling from acid. 

“Dammit, you--” Roman was cut off as the Alchemist delivered a fast left hook and another fist to his gut. Roman staggered back as Alchemist ran past him towards the fabricator.

 “No, Alchemist, don’t!” 

TheAlchemist ignored him, throwing up his hands and spraying some liquid into the material receptacle. The machine didn’t stop, just continued chugging, but the Alchemist knew it wouldn’t be long before it did.

He turned to just barely dodge a spear that was flying towards his face. It lodged itself in the fabricator, much to Roman’s frustration.

“No!” Roman bellowed angrily.

 The villain’s eyes widened as Alchemist ran towards him. He side-stepped one attack, then another, but not the third punch.  The Alchemist grabbed him by the cape clasp at his throat and lifted him bodily into the air.

“Call off your machines, Roman,” Alchemist hissed. “Call them off or I’ll destroy them myself!”

“I think I’ll select the latter, thanks!”

Roman gripped the Alchemist’s forearm.  The hero who shrieked.  His muscles contracted uncontrollably before his whole body collapsed as Roman’s built-in taser did its job. The villain landed, backing away towards his tank as he tapped away on his gauntlet.

“Have fun with the big boys, Alchemist!” Roman grinned darkly, climbing up into his tank.

The Alchemist rose shakily onto his elbows, wondering what he could mean by that, when bullets started piercing the warehouse, climbing towards him. He gasped, rolling to the side and pelting towards the fabricator. 

“Damn, he got me targeted!” he thought.

The Alchemist gritted his teeth, pushing off the floor and flying just over the top of the machine. He hung onto the wall for a second, waiting for the bullet spray to near, then kicked off. The bullets demolished the fabricator as the Alchemist leapt clear. He rolled as he hit the ground then ran for the large box bearing an antennae in the corner that was clearly not just part of the hangar. The hero had to wait a heart-pounding moment for the bullets to start moving towards him, but they did. Soon enough, they would have pierced through the box, tearing it to pieces. 

“Yes!” the Alchemist punched the air, but his victory was short-lived. His suspicions had been correct: the box was indeed the signal relay for Roman’s instructions to the automatons, but gatling guns needed a little time to slow down and stop. Bullets, the spray slowing, still flew through the thin hangar walls. They hit their target. The Alchemist weakly jumped to the side, messily landing as pain bloomed like the blood on his leg, his side, arm, his ear.  There was no more sound after that.

“Alchemist!” Ed called, getting to his feet, having long since wormed free from his bindings. He ran to the hero, kneeling beside him. “Damn villain lied!” the older man growled, looking over the Alchemist’s wounds. The hero shook his head weakly.

“N-no, it’s fine, he--nngh--he didn’t have time to--to switch the bullets,” The Alchemist wheezed. “Ahh, ff--ff--crap, crap, th-this doesn’t, doesn’t feel--” he cut off as there was a sound of groaning metal.

 Air whistled past something and suddenly an automaton crashed through the opposite side of the hangar, falling and entirely crushing the fabricator. The ground shook as all three automatons fell to earth along with the two distant robots guarding the road. The Alchemist hoped that was it for the things on the bridge as well.

“Well,” The hero huffed a weak laugh. “Isn--isn’t that convenient?” 

“Son, stop talking, you’re bleeding out,” Ed growled, reaching for the mask. “C’mon, you need to just breathe--” The Alchemist’s hand stopped him.

“N-no, it’s fine. J-just help me up, please,” The hero asked weakly, starting to move, only to gasp in pain.

“Boy, you aren’t thinking of moving, are you?” Ed raised an eyebrow. 

“I called for an ambulance already,” The cameraman offered helpfully.

A solid black SUV skidded to a halt in front of the three men, its black-haired driver jumping out before the vehicle came to a complete stop.

“Ambulance won’t make it in time.  Don’t worry; I’m with the League.”  He flashed an official-looking badge at Ed and the cameraman before turning his entire attention to the Alchemist and the blood seeping through him onto the reddening concrete.

“I’ve got word that hospitals might not be safe any way.  If I can stabilize him here, there’s a safehouse close by.  You hear me, kid?”

The Alchemist’s brown eyes looked at him, glazed over but clearly recognizing him. “Oh, for the love….” He let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling of the hangar. “Just… just do what you have to do, man….”

The hero heard Daniel steadily giving orders to Ed and the cameraman as the latter grabbed supplies from the SUV. He felt pressure, pain. There was the sense of movement and white bandages turning scarlet. Then everything began to blur. The world went black, with a familiar voice whispering in his mind, “you’ve got my work cut out for me this time, don’t you?”

---

Tag List (I’m including those of you who enjoyed the original Broken Pieces story, but if you want to be taken off, please just let me know!):  @stoic-whumpee​​​​​​, @whatwasmyprevioususername​​​​​​, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall​​​​​​, @straight-to-the-pain​​​​​​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​​​​​, @0idril0​​​​​​, @fallingstormphoenix​​​​​​, @whump-fantasies​​​​​​, @imagination1reality0​​​​​​, @whumpback-wail​​​​​, @whump-tr0pes​​​​​, @untilthepainstarts​​​​​, @captivity-whump​​​​, @burtlederp​​​​, @redwingedwhump​​​​, @whumpiary​​​​, @captivity-whump​​​​, @blue-flare10