Inter-Dimensional Time-Heist (Part Two)
“How exactly can we even get to Britannia? It doesn’t exist anymore.” In a downstairs booth at a bar that Elle referred to as ‘El Coyote,’ the six of us were consulting a map of the earth from 2077; it was a hell of a lot nicer than the one I knew a couple centuries later. Jude waved a hand dismissively even as Siobhan raised her wand with a questioning look.
“Magic can cover that. The issue isn’t getting to the bank, but rather getting into and out of it—if it even exists after the crisis… Does anyone know if SHIELD is still around at this time?” Everyone else shrugged or shook their heads, but having the benefit of being from the future (but not as removed as Zed, who’d removed her helmet to reveal a partially-scarred and battleworn face with a continuous half-gritted jaw and piercing eyes) I did know, for the same reason I knew Dugan.
“It is. I don’t know where or how, but it’s around back in my time, so it has to be here. What could they do if the bank is destroyed?” A twinkle appeared in Jude’s eye, and she downed an entire pitcher of some beer before responding with a grin.
“SHIELD has a lot of investments, accounts, and loans with Gringotts—at least in my time—and if they’re still around, they need money from somewhere. That proves that the bank is still there, but the next problem is still there: the security.” Briefly as someone Elle knew named Mama Welles brought us steaming bowls of chili so spicy I had to sheepishly ask for milk (though I did like it), the four not in the know learned that this bank had innumerable defenses ranging from magical wards, enchanted waterfalls, dragons, sphinxes, and a whole host of other nastiness that made it downright lethal to break in. Once I had eaten half of the bowl and subsequently recovered (Elle, James, and Zed all exchanged snorts) I presented my opinion.
“Might not be expecting… well, us. Is this a gunfight or a long conversation?” Jude shrugged, exchanged a look with Siobhan, then shrugged again.
“If what Dugan said is true, and we’re all just alternate versions of ourselves stuck in this place, then it doesn’t really matter how we do it. The only thing that matters is fixing time.” That brought a bit of a grin to my face, whether from myself or Luisa I didn’t know. More drinks, smokes, and I was suitably buzzed—liquor not brewed with rusty parts and half a dose of sand was much better than the Mojave’s—leaning over the table at Zed and putting an elbow on the table, hand out.
“Wanna go? Bet I break your wrist.” She’d changed into some of Elle’s oversized clothes, and I’d thought she was more a commander until her sleeves rolled up magically (or, via this ‘Force’ thing she had) to reveal muscles that shouldn’t even exist, a cannon of an arm almost as thick as my head settling down and a calloused, iron-tight hand wrapping carefully around mine.
“Clones are grown to be the maximal ability of a humanoid; that’s before the steroids. Still want to?” All conversation at the table had ceased, but I felt a sort-of tug from inside me, almost as if… Well, who knows how time fraying works, but it felt like Luisa was asking to be let out—our connection must be different in this side-dimension. With a last chug of my ‘jack and coke’ (similar to a whiskey nuke) I grinned and tightened my grip as James began to count down and I allowed Luisa out. Similarly to the last few engagements, I was still able to see and know what was happening; our connection was close enough that I suspected even getting angry enough could do it—and watched as muscles bulged in my arm, holding even with Zed even as she began to strain. The table groaned, then I felt a horrific ripping sensation as I watched a muscle in my forearm snap under the skin, sending my arm over before it was quickly healed by Jude, who placed a hand bearing warm light to the injury.
“Merlin, don’t ever do that again.” Coming back to myself, Luisa still felt a bit satisfied (the specific phrase, ‘if only flesh wasn’t so fragile’ burbled into my mind) and I rubbed my arm experimentally, not missing the brief burst of worry on Zed’s face.
“Good match. Maybe after this job, we have a rematch?” I ignored the dubious look by turning to Elle, who was mostly just watching the group with a mixture of enjoyment and lingering confusion.
“Think we could have a night on the town before heading out? I’ve never seen a place like this before.” She went to respond, but the sound of metal landing heavily on the table in front of me coincided with a futuristic pistol, held in a robot arm of a cyborg man who scanned the six of us before settling on Elle.
“Funny. Thought I told you you weren’t welcome here, gonk.” The ‘gonk’ in question reclined in the booth, slinging an arm around me and James, who sat on her other side.
“I grew up here, Montoya. Can’t keep a bird from her nest, can you?” Montoya scowled, and I caught similar expressions on seven other people who’d been slowly converging on our booth; other patrons were also picking up on it, beginning to quietly make their way to the door even as Montoya’s eyes flicked to me.
“Runnin’ with a bunch of ganics, I see. Shows how far the Olympians have fallen. This’ll be a quick one, boys—someone put on some music.” In an instant, adrenaline hit me and time slowed to a crawl. I’d been in plenty of barfights before, but these guys had some serious augmentations as well as preparation; I went to smack the gun from his hand, then ducking backward as Zed flipped the table and drove a fist into Montoya’s throat, sending him flying back through the air even as James appeared out of nowhere in the midst of two others—Jude moved faster than I could track in the same direction, misjudging James’ instant movement and knocking into both him and one opponent as I jumped up and drew Nero. A metal fist cracked across my jaw, knocking me back into Elle, who steadied me with a wink as bolts of multicolored light erupted from Siobhan’s wand, paralyzing one guy while the rest went wide and shattered the windows opposite. Blood was roaring in my ears and calling for some action of my own, so I lunged for the nearest opponent and slammed my shoulder into his stomach, knocking him against the bar in a move I’d dubbed ‘the bighorner bolt’ and knocking over a tray of drinks. Glancing over my shoulder, unsure if we were killing or knocking unconscious (getting arrested wasn’t a good way to rob a bank), I witnessed Zed fully pick up Montoya and tear him in half at the waist, circuits and oil leaking from torn metal parts as a high-pitched synthetic scream erupted from his throat; blood, then. In a flash, my knife was out and halfway through opening my opponent’s stomach as another one impacted the bar next to us, cracking the wood inward to frame the barely-conscious form that Jude had thrown over her shoulder with a twirl—she had wings?! My momentary distraction was enough for the guy I was fighting to break a glass bottle across my face, responded to with a full disembowelment and stab up under the chin for good measure before Nero roared, five shots fired in two seconds as I fanned the hammer at three more. They stumbled, distracted long enough for James to blink over and use a strange, silver-metal knife to dispatch them just as Elle knocked into me, shoved back by one of the remaining guys and nearly toppling both of us onto the bleeding-out guy I’d stabbed. “How’s this for a warm welcome?” I grinned fiercely, pushing her upright and using the motion to throw her forward, turning and putting my sixth bullet into the back of one who’d been angling for an attack on Siobhan. Of the six of us, she seemed to be more of a ranged fighter, though I did see her pull off a glove and—just by touching a finger to the forehead of one man—caused him to go limp mid swing, falling down dead without so much as a scratch. A chair broke over my back, knocking me forward and into Zed’s back as she rose from suplexing two opponents at once—these guys were worse than Fiends, which was saying something—and I broke my nose against the solid iron of back abs before she caught me, deflecting a thrown bottle with a massive arm even as she looked down with concern.
“Alright?” With a grunt and a crack, I nodded, turning to watch as Elle snapped the neck of one man by climbing onto his shoulders and using her thighs to break it while simultaneously shooting the last man in the head, landing neatly beside Zed and I with a smile and an arm on my shoulder.
“You all know how to party, I’ll give you that. Mama Welles? You okay?” The scowl that peeked over the bar next to the muzzle of a shotgun was answer enough, and as Siobhan and Jude used magic to fix the place, I sagged slightly—I was tough, but having several blunt objects broken on me and a few fists had made me woozy. Sensing my unsteadiness, Zed wrapped an arm around my shoulder, before rolling her eyes at the height difference and just picking me up in her arms, which both Luisa and I were not fans of at all.
“Can you heal her? She may have a concussion.” Once again, Jude came to my aid, numbing the growing migraine and somehow fixing my head injury with a touch of her hand.
“You’ve gotta teach me that. I get hurt way too often.” Elle was beginning to gesture to the door—blue and red lights were flashing far off, which several others seemed to understand as further danger; Zed jogged out at the head, only putting me down after Elle had called a car and piling four people in the back seat—Jude, James, Zed, and myself—while Siobhan and Elle sat in the front.
“Get us to a quiet spot, then we can go to Europe. Who were those guys, Elle? They acted like they knew you.” She pulled a slightly pained expression even as she drove us dangerously fast through the city—judging by James’ expressions, this wasn’t how one was supposed to drive a car—my face partially crunched against Zed’s bicep as she readjusted and nearly broke my nose again.
“Sixth Street. Rival gang here in NC. Bunch of upstarts, trying to muscle in on other people’s territory. Care to explain the fucking wings? Or James appearing in one place without even moving? What the hell even is magic?” Those in the know exchanged complicated looks—Siobhan, who was experimenting with the multiple buttons and dials on the center console, explained.
“Magic is like technology, but natural. Where you can shoot bullets, we shoot spells. Instead of ammunition, we use energy. Can you make the jump, er, Jude?” In that moment, I understood Jude’s strange behavior around the other magician earlier; Jude must know a later version of Siobhan, but to Siobhan, they hadn’t met yet. As I pondered what the history between them could’ve been, Zed grew exasperated at the lack of space and picked me up, three others spreading out in the seats as I was deposited onto her lap, red-faced.
“Stop just… moving me. At least ask first; it’s demeaning.” Zed snorted, a soft breath hitting my ear that made me twitch involuntarily and only made her snicker more.
“Would you rather suffocate? It’s easier for you to fire out of the window this way, too. Can we stop to pick up equipment before we go?” Elle, with a smirk, gestured to the space behind the back seat, where all of our gear sat in the trunk.
“I may be a bit rough around the edges, but I’m always prepared. What’s the deal with the armor, anyway? Doesn’t it just slow you down?” During that exchange, I happened to catch James shooting a look at Jude, one I couldn’t really understand; Jude responded with a similar-if-amused one, before they both raised an eyebrow and made a gesture that I could only translate as “you? Okay, me too” as Elle pulled onto a large, raised interstate—I’d only seen these in ruins before.
“Absolutely not. Clones are trained from before birth; armor is mostly to allow me to do what I need to do without clankers offing me. What are those?” I’d gone to light a cigarette, and after taking a puff I offered it to her; Zed merely sniffed the smoke, then scowled.
“Not a fan of deathsticks, personally. I do like the smell, though.” Just then, a blast of music nearly deafened me as Siobhan grew frustrated and waved her wand at the console, quickly turned down by James as we reached a speed that I was feeling less and less comfortable with. Jude was smoking a full pipe, a motion mirrored by Siobhan as James and Elle also lit smokes, leaving Zed as the odd one out.
“Muggle technology is so strange. Why not just have it react to a gesture instead of all this nonsense?” Elle raised an eyebrow, rolling the windows down and allowing in a smell I’d never smelled before; it was salty, almost… wet?
“That’s the ocean. Do they not have one in your time?” At Jude’s words, I shrugged. Supposedly there was one, back west—Luisa might’ve seen it—but I’d never encountered a body of water bigger than maybe Lake Mead or Zion.
“Never seen it. I’ve seen lakes and rivers before, is an ocean like that?” Everyone shared confused looks at that, and I sheepishly stuck my head out of the window, peering out at the landscape around us to get a lay of the land even as we sped past it in a blur. Promptly, my head was yanked back in by Zed, and after a chastisement about ‘losing my head’ the window was promptly rolled back up as, thankfully, Elle began to slow down. We pulled off onto a shoulder, then up onto a dusty, unpaved road that wound up the side of a large hill even as Jude began digging through the trunk to hand out gear.
“We’ll go to… well, Diagon might still be around. Want me to make the Portkey?”