Dead Head slipped on some black gloves. If the nylon was too thick, they would have interfered with his powers.

  Construction had finished before the sun dropped out of the sky, but the warehouse still smelled of machine oil. In those after hours, only a few lights shone on for the main floor, the incomplete portal frame catching a caustic-looking light. The portal’s tall, stark shell stood over the room like a monolith; steel beams reaching to the sky like an occult art exhibition.

  Dead Head gathered a few people there. It was just a small meeting to touch base before he headed out to deal with KweeBlock– a company officially a telecommunications provider but actually a fledgling criminal enterprise. Shimmer had dropped by to show Dead Head the building layout of the enemy he was about to assault. Seven was there, resting on a chair by the unused office towards the front, to drive Dead Head and Dice was meant come along as backup if needed, Dice pacing across the floor.

  And Haze was there, too. He had barely been at the warehouse or even out on a job in the last week. All he had been used for was production and he was feeling forgotten.

  “You sure you don’t need me?” asked Haze, “I think I could be useful for this mission.”

  Dead Head groaned. “Yes, Haze. I am certain I do not need you.” He pivoted his eyes at Dice. “I’m pretty sure I won’t need Dice but he’s come along anyway.”

  Haze slumped, looking like he was the kid that didn’t get invited to a friend’s birthday party.

  Shimmer, waiting still at the front of the building, looked down at Dead Head’s footwear– black boots with deep treads. “Are those new?”

  “Yes,” said Dead Head. “I’ll dispose them afterwards.”

  “Right,” said Shimmer. “Remember to locate their security system and destroy all evidence.”

  As Dead Head walked to the front door, Seven and Dice rose from their seats and followed him.

  “That’s not something I need to be reminded of,” Dead Head told Shimmer.

  “Very well,” said Shimmer. “We will see you soon.”

  “Lock up when you leave,” said Dead Head. Shimmer didn’t need to be reminded but it sounded like a more professional way to say goodbye. Dead Head nodded and was quiet as he opened the door and walked outside, Dice and Seven on his tail. The door shut with a loud slam that rumbled the rafters.

  KweeBlock was once a telecommunications startup but when the CEO opted to solve a problem by using an RC car to cause a circuit overload at a client’s site and have them collect a large chunk of insurance money, this sent KweeBlock down the path of organized crime. Over the last year, they have been the number to call when someone needed something hacked or sabotage was the order.

  This path led them to trying to interfere with a few of Dead Head’s sales among town. A single incident was no big deal– something Dead Head could ignore– but KweeBlock kept up the disrespect and when confronted by Dead Head’s men, the CEO Martin Subba got bold and defied their request to leave them alone.

  So something had to be done.

  KweeBlock’s building was in the southern parts of Scarborough, off of a main street. On the front it had the company’s name on a big neon sign. Seven parked on the street behind it; between a Circle K and a printing store with a sign too dark for anyone to read at night. When Dice offered to come along, Dead Head assured it was unnecessary.

  The ground was still wet from a rain earlier. Dead Head marched across the parking lot and to the back lot of KweeBlock, there was a fence around a large square of pavement that the owners probably didn’t use very often. The fence was too high for Dead Head to climb. There was a heavy lock panel on the gate that was tied to the security measures so after checking that nobody was around to see, Dead Head took his hand up to the lock, it’s green and yellow lights blinking, and concentrated.

  There was a buzz and the lights went off. Dead Head raised the latch and the lock didn’t fight back. The door opened and Dead Head walked into KweeBlock’s back lot.

  Now which way inside, thought Dead Head. He looked around and saw a security cam hiding underneath the gutter at the top of the roof. He held his hand out at it but he had to walk a few steps closer before he was near enough to hear a zap emit from it and for the cam to turn off, and some of the electrical grid was caught in Dead Head’s aura– flickering the outside lights for a couple seconds.

  The ground floor had a back door. Dead Head walked up and pushed the handle. It sunk– the door wasn’t locked. Dead Head walked into a hallway with tall, featureless walls of painted-over brick. He could hear music in the distance, and the music got louder as Dead Head went down the hallway and turned into the main floor.

  He stood in a hallway that went out to the front entrance and offshoot into a large room with a few heavy desks and lots of chairs. It was an office-type environment. Few lights were on but the stereo in the corner was responsible for the music blasting across the lifeless building. Clickety beats and ethereal pianos made Dead Head’s ears twitch.

  A loud voice came over the speakers. “Leave here, Dead Head. You will not survive.”

  Dead Head peered around the room. They knew he was there. How did they know? Were there cameras? Dead Head said, “KweeBlock ends tonight. You shouldn’t have crossed me.”

  A stir came from down the main hall. Whatever it was, it pulled out into the hall and rode towards Dead Head. He didn’t have time to get a good look at it because there was a click and Dead Head knew what that meant.

  Dead Head jumped around a corner to get out of the way just as a loud gunshot went off. Dead Head looked behind to see a fresh splattering of bullet holes in the roof. Those rounds were meant for Dead Head.

  The thing was moving down the hall towards him. Dead Head could hear the thing getting closer when he concentrated, letting his dark magic seep out of his body and through the wall, nothing changed. He still heard the machine’s active stirring and buzzing. The wall was too thick for Dead Head’s nullifying power to seep through and disable the machine.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Dead Head peeked his head around the corner and– “Gw-w-w!”

  The machine fired at Dead Head again. At least, this time he got a good look of the tiny, deadly robot. Dead Head ducked his head back behind the corner– ears ringing at the sheer volume of the gunshot in that proximity. The machine fired up at him and hit the top wall across the room. Now what? He moved around the edge of the room until the machine rolled out into view, where he promptly pushed over a desk and hid behind the metal surface. The desk shook the ground when it fell over but Dead Head hoped that its weight signified its resilience.

  The machine fired again, firepower strong enough to puncture the desk’s body Dead Head was using as a shield. The shots barely missed Dead Head. He grimaced. “Dammit!”

  He was regretting not taking Dice with him. Or not taking a gun himself.

  There was a humming and Dead Head could hear the machine rolling closer. It was now over never, Dead Head thought. He concentrated on the machine, trying to disable it’s circuitry and any part of it that was powered. It wasn’t stopping, though. His reach wasn’t getting to the machine. Dead Head moved to the edge of the desk and reached out his hand around the barrier, twisting his influence out from his hand and at the machine.

  After a split second, the stirring of a motor stopped and the machine felt silent underneath the electronic music blaring across the halls.

  Dead Head got a grip and spied his head around the wall he had improvised. The machine was still. He got up and approached it with caution, ready to leap out of the way if it moved again. It didn’t move again, though. He could walk up and get a good look at it. It was like a motorized turret with belted treads for wheels holding up some kind of firing machine. Shells were loaded in the back and smoke lingered out of the barrels.

  Dead Head thought about using it as a weapon of his own but he couldn’t figure out how to detach the gun so instead he booted the machine until its frame twisted and the gun broke off the base. Even if the machine recovered from Dead Head’s electromagnetic disturbance, that thing would not start up again.

  As Dead Head checked the room and proceeded to investigate the place, the song on the radio dialed down and a wistful woman’s voice came on, saying, “And that was ‘Cascade’ from Carlito. Keep it on 101.1 Daze and coming up next we’ll have ‘Shimmer’ by Thom Brennan and after that we’ll be playing something by ATB. Stay locked in.”

  Dead Head went back out into the hallway. Expecting to be watched by cameras, he shouted “You’re going to have to try better than that!”

  The control room was dim. Subba, Vigée, and Weissenberg huddled around the security monitors, watching Dead Head as the man stalked their building and proceeded down the main floor hallway. Subba brushed his hair back. He then realized he was still holding the remote that he used to control the turret downstairs. There was no use for it now. He tossed it to the ground.

  “We gotta stop him!” said Vigée, clutching his pistol and running his thumb down the top.

  “We gotta get out of here!” said Weissenberg, reaching under his puffy blue jacket to scratch nervous flesh. He looked around the room for a vent to crawl out of.

  Subba stared at Dead Head through the monitor. Here was the leader of the Dead Head gang; here personally to take Subba and his coworkers out or destroy the operation at the very least. Subba had heard of Dead Head and his team, how mighty they were, but if the leader of the organization was there to do grunt work, could he have been that powerful?

  Not powerful enough to hire subordinates, thought Subba.

  Dead Head walked, passing from one security camera’s view to another. Subba got a good look of the intruder when the dark mage looked up at the camera, he reached out a hand, and then the signal cut to a blue screen, “SIGNAL LOST”

  There was gasping but Subba turned to Weissenberg and stretched out a hardened scowl. “No. We’re not going to let him take everything we’ve made. We are going to take him out.” He glanced down at the gun in Weissenberg’s side. “You are going to take him out.”

  “U-us?” asked Weissenberg.

  “It’s just one guy!” said Subba. He looked back at the monitor and saw Dead Head climb the stairs to the second floor. “He’s not even armed! All he can do is deactivate machines.” Subba tapped the barrel of Weissenberg’s gun. “This thing isn’t electric. It’s not going to stop working. Just blast him!”

  Subba had a point. Some of the terror calmed in Weissenberg and he got up off his seat. “Alright. Let’s go get him.”

  Vigée got up and said, “Yeah.”

  The two went to the door while Subba continued to the monitor the situation. They unlocked the door and walked out, slamming the heavy frame behind them. Subba watched them through the screens.

  The music from downstairs echoed up into the second floor. With both foot soldiers having their pistols out and ready in their hands, they walked through the main hallway, ready to spot Dead Head and fire. Just one good shot and it was over. Now where was he?

  “Do you see him?” asked Vigée.

  “N-no,” said Weissenberg.

  They proceeded down the hall, passing by closed doors and the large opening that lead into a work lab that took a good chunk of the building’s upper half. Vigée and Weissenberg peeked inside to see if the invader had ducked into the place but they couldn’t see him hiding behind any corners or beneath tables.

  Just as Vigée and Weissenberg stepped into the lab, there was a humming and lights went out in the room and hallway, instantly blanketing the area in a deep darkness.

  Weissenberg raised his gun at the darkness, nervous finger on the trigger. “Where is h– e-yuck!”

  Vigée could hear something puncture his coworker’s flesh. He turned his gun over to where he heard shuffling and violence, unsure if he should shoot or not. He backed up, bumping against a wall. Somebody’s body hit the floor with a clumsy thud, and Vigée assumed it wasn’t the intruder’s. Vigée fired, the gun flashes lighting up the area in durations so quick they might as well have been pictures.

  As Vigée fired into the room’s darkness, he saw Weissenberg on the floor in the flashes, something sticking out of the coworker’s jacket. A lot of bullets were fired, but Vigée didn’t think he hit anything.

  There was a calmness and quiet for a second, before the there was the sound of a gun being picked up off the floor. Vigée got ready to fire again but the gun clicked. No ammo. And then another loud blast shook the halls. And then another thud.

  Subba waited beside the door, metal pipe in hand. His breathing was heavy and sweat poured down his face. He tried to calm himself down, but he couldn’t. His body trembled, the pipe vibrating in his hand. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to aim. All he needed to do was smash Dead Head when he walked through the door.

  The door creaked and Subba calmed his breath. Dead Head walked in the room and passed his eyes over the monitors before Subba slammed the pipe down at him. Subba screamed, “Aaaahhhh!”

  Dead Head hopped forward and let the pipe slide by him, though. Subba’s strike dragged him down so hard that the pipe knocked the tile floor and chipped off a piece. Subba looked up at Dead Head with fury and terror.

  In the quick look that he trailed over Dead Head, Subba realized his adversary wasn’t carrying one of the guns that Vigée and Weissenberg carried out with them.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Subba. “You come into our place and think you can tear all down?” The young man’s tone was vicious enough to cover up some of the fear.

  “You’re the one who took arms against us,” said Dead Head. With his back to the string of monitors, his face was cloaked in darkness, only his sinister eyes shining through. He chuckled. “You had no idea who you were messing with.”

  “Who we were messing with?” asked Subba, gripping the pipe like a baseball bat and stepping closer. His eyes were frantic. “You don’t even have a gun! You can turn off machines, but that’s not going to save you!”

  Dead Head smiled, the shine of his teeth breaking through the darkness. He concentrated his will on the screens behind him and caused a few of them to flicker and turn off. His voice was like a demon’s; he said, “My powers are based in disabling electric currents– electric currents of all kind. Machines aren’t the only things that use electricity. Living creatures use electricity, too. Our brains require it to function, so in the same way that I can terminate a machine by cutting its power, I can do so living things as well.”