100 Words A Day by Hydrargentium

Well, at least 100 words — best served random….

Tag: Cannon

In the dark, the snowflakes looked like stars, flying towards them and over the windshield. Blast found it hypnotic.

Behind him, Sparkleboy drummed his fingers on the window. “Boring!”

“Shut up, Sparkly.” Cannon sounded like he was trying to sleep. Glancing over his shoulder, Blast saw the mercenary’s metallic body sprawled across the middle seat. He had one arm draped across his eyes — which was weird, Blast thought, because eyelids like his should easily block out the light from passing cars.

Perhaps old habits die hard.

“Anyone want to play catch?” A glow started to form in Sparkleboy’s right hand.

“Put it away, Sparkleboy.” Ellison’s stern look in the rear view mirror matched his tone. Sparkleboy responded with a comic grimace, like he was being shushed by a sour old librarian. The glow dissipated, though, with just a hint of electric crackle.

Beside Sparkleboy in the back seat, Knockout reach out to tap Cannon on the forearm. Once. Twice. Three times. “Cannon.”


“Next time we stop, we’re switching seats.”


They burst through the gate, and immediately deployed around the courtyard. Stripes and Starchild found cover behind a truck along the left wall. Cannon stood ready to the right, ignoring cover for a better field of view. Gazer hugged the gatepost, staring at nothing, and Warwind took the opposite side. Atomica raced across the open space, juking sideways at random intervals to throw off snipers, and then disappeared under the overhang of the inner gate. Rockface strolled straight up the middle, stopping dead centre in the courtyard and crossing his arms on his massive chest. Groundhog, of course, was nowhere to be found.

The Fire King found all these preparations quite amusing.

Cannon felt the urgency like a wadded up rag pushed into the base of his skull. He fiddled with the bare leads, trying to remember the diagram in the instructions. Not for the first time, he felt like shooting something — stupid, stupid, stupid, losing that sheet of paper. Next time, he was going to get them to stencil stuff like that on the inside of his arm.

He glanced at his wrist. A big, ruggedized wristwatch, all gunmetal and rubber on a velcro strap, brooded like a black tick against the shiny steel of his skin. Its readout dolefully counted out the seconds at him, backlit in purple Indiglo. The fact that he had only a couple-hundred seconds left on the timer made him want to smash the damn thing, scrape it off his arm.

He swallowed, breathed through his nose, and stared at the control panel once more. Five wires, no jackets for colour coding, and he had to connect the correct pairs of wires, in the correct order, to disable the alarms and open the access door in front of him. Easy as hot-wiring a car, if the car was actually a flying saucer.

The tick-watch on his wrist chirped at him, and the display flashed yellow a few times. Less than two minutes, and he had to get through this door and secure the central control zone before his team mates hit the front entrance.

His view of the wires began to blur, each wire becoming one and the same with the one beside it. Cannon shook his head. No time for anything but the thing he was good at.

The control panel exploded in a shower of sparks when he blasted it. There were no alarms that he could hear, so he figured he’d knocked that out, but neither had the door opened. He must have taken that system out as well.

Not that it really mattered to him. Doors, even big heavy ones, weren’t really meant to handle Cannon.

Taking a step back, he pushed his fists together in front of him, and aimed at the door. Both arms glowed up to the elbows for a moment, and then the blast released. The door, its frame, and a large chunk of the surrounding wall were gone, replaced by blackened chunks and wisps of oily smoke.

Cannon cocked his head to listen, and then smiled as he stepped past the smoldering threshold. Still no alarms.