Mod Superhero (Book 6 STUBBING on Oct 27th)

Chapter 7.3 - McGuire

McGuire watched Mod toss a disguise puck to the new super. Despite the old man's strength, he was clearly nervous, and clutched the tiny object with reverence. A few seconds later, he'd be cloaked getting the full onboarding speech from his new handler.

Technically, the handler was just a barely disguised version of TINA piped through an earpiece—McGuire imagined TINA wearing a fake moustache. But the charade worked. Everyone needed someone to hold their hand the first time they broke federal law in public.

McGuire envied him.

That dude had no idea what he was in for.

But the rest of the team had other plans.

Everyone's cloaking shimmered to life—one by one, their outlines vanished into the cityscape like ghosts. The old man—their newest recruit—disappeared into the crowd.

McGuire muttered, "Now that we're done with our detour, can we get on with the real mission?"

Mod didn't answer.

Typical.

The cyborg just tilted forward and shot off into the sky, leaving a trail of haze behind him. Arsenal followed a half-second later, shaking the air as she passed and startling the gadgeteer. She twisted in midair and called back playfully.

"Come on. You're falling behind."

McGuire sighed. "Every damn time."

McGuire adjusted his feet. His board hummed to life and lifted off the ground. He leaned into the turn and rocketed forward—no theatrics, just pure gadgeteer power and style. He aimed for the building—the new Community Stability Hall, speeding past what was left of the crowd and leaving confused onlookers in the dust.

He'd never quite worked out how to fly with the hoverboard. The board wasn't stable unless there was something solid beneath it, like the ground, but he'd worked out something just as good.

McGuire willed the board to speed up until it felt like he was going to crash face-first into the side of the building—

At the last second, he turned and kicked off, propelling himself up the side of the building. Windows passed beneath him like waves of glass.

He rode it all the way to the top of the building, then rode the rooftop. At the edge, he kicked off again, flying across the gap to the next building. He skipped across rooftops, wind howling past, weaving between rooftop AC units and antennas, his board pulsing with every push. The skyline opened up ahead, and for a moment he could almost forget the tension in his gut.

Almost.

The tension wasn't from the height or the speed—they'd gotten sidetracked. Jumping into the bread line wasn't part of the plan. TINA had just happened to catch biomech chatter while they were passing through. They'd all recognized the codes, even if they couldn't read binary—someone bound for the Vault. If they'd been a few minutes later, that old guy wouldn't have had a chance. That was the only reason they'd hit the brakes.

This was supposed to be a blitz. There weren't supposed to be any brakes, but Mod had to have a bleeding heart.

McGuire shook his head. With his goggles, he could just make out his two teammates in the sky up ahead. Despite the speed, they'd slowed down just enough for him to keep up.

He shouted over the wind, "Guys, what's the plan?"

Mod replied, "Go ahead and reinforce Cherry's team. There were additional DSA agents nearby that we didn't account for. Go on, I've got this."

Arsenal sighed reluctantly, but she banked hard, flying toward the boardwalk. McGuire leaned into the turn, his legs burning with the strain. One of these days, he needed to get cyborg legs.