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You didn't hesitate to start barking out orders.
"Sandman, Glass, mix it up with the guys on the ground! Prowler, Black Cat, take out those snipers!"
Everyone vocalized their ascent and immediately got to work. When a 300 pound glob of sand dropped down onto the assault team's heads, their screams of terror overpowered the sounds of rapid gunfire. Glass took advantage of the confusion by taking them from behind, completely avoiding the metas and focusing on the normals who couldn't properly defend themselves against someone like him. Soon enough, both of them were tearing the enemy's forces apart.
You saw a similar situation in the sky, where two black figures were hopping from building to building, taking out the rooftop snipers with practiced ease. They were so quick and coordinated that not a single bullet even touched them, miraculous as that may sound. Even without a spider sense, those guys could pull off some impressive stuff. You were glad that they were on your side this time around.
While all that was happening, you decided to pull Slip away from the fight, without actually touching him. It was more like…frantic gesturing, actually.
"Come on! We need to get you out of here." you said, trying to get him to follow you.
"And go where? There's no way that we can just run all the way to where you want me to go." he argued.
He was absolutely right. Taking him into the sewers might be tough, since you'd be leaving a trail of I've wherever you went. You can't grab him by the waist and swing him back to Silvermane's bunker. You'd die of hypothermia before you even got halfway there. And most modes of transportation were a no go, since Slip would just drain the battery before it got moving.
You had managed to reach your target, but there was absolutely no way for you to reach your destination without fighting half the city to do it. You hated to admit it, but you were stuck. Silvermane tasked you and everyone else with an impossible challenge, and disappointing him simply wasn't an option.
But before you could finish that train of thought, your spider sense started buzzing. Something was approaching you. Not quickly, by any discernible means, but judging by the way that it didn't deviate from it's path, you sensed that there was intent behind this malevolent force.
In the distance, you spotted a large, hulking man, with dark gray skin and an insulated black jacket, insulated black and red tights, and a hockey mask of all things on his face.
Wait. No, that…wasn't a hockey mask. It was made of metal. Almost like…
A thought clicked in your mind, and a chill ran down your spine. This description matched with the one that Silvermane gave you. Facing you, on this dark, deserted side street, was one of the deadliest mercs that took this job. You were facing the unkillable zombie monster, otherwise known as "Deadhead".
(Cont.)
