A Tale of Two Bolts

Jason Harper skidded across the ground like a stone bounced over calm water. Pain flashed through his joints as he crashed through a pile of ruined bricks and slammed to a stop against the far wall. He groaned and pulled himself up so his back sat against the wall. Nothing seemed to be broken, but he was bleeding from several open scrapes, and his swimming eyesight spoke to a possible concussion. The crossbow had landed a few feet away on a black and white tile floor, beneath the shattered splinters of a diner table.

Great, I’m going to die in a Denny’s.

His head was too heavy to hold up, so he let it droop. Just to count his bolts, at least that’s what he told himself. His right arm screamed as he hoisted it onto his hipside quiver. Jason fumbled through the shafts with numb fingers.

Two standard bolts. One explosive. One paint. One USB.

It wasn’t a lot of firepower, but it was going to have to do. Southside was counting on him. Shoot, all of Freedom City was counting on him.

The demon that had thrown him into the Denny’s was still outside. A big, toothy bastard, with necrotic gray flesh, and magenta bat wings. It didn’t have a head, at least not in the traditional sense. Instead, two orange, segmented eyes peered out from where its nipples should be, and it had a mouth that oozed cream-white pus instead of a belly button. The monster wielded a trident, although it had five prongs so technically it was a quinquident.

Jason chuckled at himself being pedantic. It’s not like it mattered, the weapon was going to kill him all the same.

The monster smashed through the final bits of the Denny’s doorway like a toddler destroying their sister’s sandcastle. It gargled, a noise that rattled Jason’s concussed brain.

“I’d be pissed off too if that’s what I sounded like when I laughed.” Jason slumped over and reached for the crossbow. His fingers scraped at the stock, but it was just out of reach.

The demon lurched forward, taking time to smash a table in its path. Jason swore as he strained. This cat and mouse display was degrading. The ground shook as the demon picked up its pace. Its taloned feet clicked against the dusty tile.

He finally got purchase on the handle and scooted it into his grip. There was no time to pause for the pain. Jason flexed his core and threw himself upright, aimed the crossbow with one hand as the other slid the bolt into place. He pulled the trigger.

The missile whistled through the air. It beeped in rapid succession and exploded in the demon’s face. Exploded with mustard yellow paint.

Shit.

The demon staggered a step and squealed from within its bellymouth. It dropped the quinquident and raked at the eyes on its chest. Good to know it didn’t have nipple eyelids to go with the crazy bug eyes.

Jason inhaled and drew the next bolt from his quiver. He double checked that it was the explosive. His wrist screamed from the strain and he let the crossbow fall to his side.

Unfortunately, the blindness didn’t slow the demon much. It sank its claws in around the eye on its right breast and pulled it free from the socket. Wiry tendrils wriggled out of the wound, grasping for the removed organ. The demon flipped the eye around and plunged the painted side into its chest, leaving the unpainted half facing outward. It furrowed its clavicles and sprang forward.

Jason wasn’t proud of the shriek that escaped his lips, but the mortal terror pushed his body into action. With one fluid motion he raised the crossbow and fired the explosive bolt into its belly.

The bolt flew into the dark center of the demon. Its blinking light illuminated the maw, revealing circular rows of teeth and dripping orange ichor. Jason’s breath caught in his chest as the warhead detonated. The explosion tore through the demon’s midsection, sending its torso flying apart in a shower of viscera. Chunks of spasming gore splattered the rest of the Denny’s, including Jason.

“You’ve got to be the grossest thing that ever lived.” Jason wiped his face with both hands. Vomit tickled the back of his throat, but he held it down for now. He put most of his weight on a toppled chair, and pulled himself to his feet. The room spun a little as he swayed in place, trying to orient himself. Now he just had to figure out how to stop the rest of the demon invasion with two crossbow bolts and a glorified flash drive on a stick.

Jason stooped and grabbed the quinquident. He wasn’t great in hand-to-hand, but a polearm would at least keep the monsters out of arm’s reach. Plus it doubled as a nifty crutch. He leaned on his new, infernal walking stick and hobbled to the hole in the wall of the Denny’s.

Eight of the same demons were waiting for him out front.

The horde gargle-laughed as one and stepped forward in unison. Their spears gleamed in stark contrast to the purple-green sky.

Looks like this is where I clock out. Sorry Fletch.

Jason sighed and raised his crossbow for one last defiant shot. He pulled the trigger and a crash of thunder answered. Pale blue lightning arced from the sky. It struck the first demon on the top of the head, boring straight through. When the lightning hit the ground it spread out like a sort of electricity snowflake. Each dendrite surged into the legs of the remaining demons and cooked them from the inside out. Jason looked at his crossbow in disbelief.

“Are you okay, kid?” A buzzing voice snapped Jason out of his wonder. The voice belonged to Thunderbolt, a member of the Freedom League, and occasional punching bag of the Freedom League Dark. Thunderbolt landed in front of Jason and placed a hand on his shoulder. He was taller than Jason imagined, dressed in his white and blue containment suit. The smooth armor was featureless, except for a stylized lightning bolt on the chest. Energy hummed from Thunderbolt’s palm into Jason’s body. His mask covered his face as a blank, white void.

Jason nodded, remembering that Thunderbolt had asked a question. “Yeah, totally. Thanks for the assist.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” Thunderbolt stepped back and turned to survey Freedom City. “But I recognize a bow kid when I see one. Are you the new Arrow?”

“Bolt, actually.” Jason puffed his chest out in the best superhero pose he could muster in his current injured state.

Thunderbolt looked back over his shoulder at Jason. He didn’t have eyes, but somehow Jason could feel the arching of a brow. “Really? Bolt?”

“Well, crossbows don’t fire arrows. I guess I could be Quarrel, but I feel like that’s just inviting conflict.” Jason shrugged his good shoulder.

“No, it’s a good name.” Thunderbolt stepped back to Jason. “I used to be called Bolt myself, before the accident.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Sorry I didn’t run it by you first.” Jason curled his lip inward. “You don’t exactly have a number to call. I did…nevermind it’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid?” Thunderbolt’s vacant expression was hard to get a read on.

“I may have tried to ask you by whispering into an outlet at the Quiver.” Jason’s face flushed.

“That’s hilarious.” Thunderbolt’s buzzing voice had no inflection.

“I told you it was stupid.”

“No, really. If I could laugh, I’d be laughing. I promise I’m amused.” Thunderbolt gave a thumbs up. “Anyway, are you okay to keep going? You look a little beat up and it looks like you’re low on ammo.”

“I’ve got a couple more bolts in the um…Bowmobile, but honestly playing whack-a-demon feels like a losing game.” Jason pushed a button on his gauntlet computer to activate the car’s autopilot. “We need to focus on evacuating civilians. My friend Nick has a bunch holed up in a bar over in Lantern Hill.”

“Sounds like a plan…Bolt.” Thunderbolt began to hover a few feet off the ground. “Mount up, I’ll cover you.”