Unheroic Life of a Certain Cape-Chapter 60 Escaping the Vanguard

Chapter
60 Escaping the Vanguard
“Be careful,” Garuda said with steel in his voice. “He’s a dangerous cape. Thunderbolt, stay where you are, and the same goes for you, Iron Bulwark.” He landed beside me and the body of Janah. The golden feathers on his wings still glimmered faintly from their earlier use, and his eyes never left me even as he crouched. He pressed two fingers against Janah’s neck, his brow tightening. “She’s dead. No pulse. But we’ll still need to ID her.”
Thunderbolt let out a sharp growl of frustration, her voice edged with spite. “And how the hell are we supposed to do that when her head’s been phased halfway into the ground? Her face is probably a mess now.” Sparks crawled across her arms, snapping in the air like angry hornets.
Iron Bulwark stomped closer, the sound of his metal body thundering against the ruined floor. “We shouldn’t spare him! This fucking filth is the same guy who took down Greyhound and Nightgard. They were our comrades!” His voice cracked with rage, his fists clenching as if ready to strike. “We couldn’t even retrieve Greyhound’s head or Nightgard’s entire body!”
Internally, I sighed. He wasn’t wrong. Greyhound’s head had been separated from his body by my own hand, and Nightgard… Well, I’d left what was left of him with Pride. They had no corpses to bury, and no closure to cling to. And here I was, listening to the grief I’d caused being flung at me as a weapon.
The air changed. A shift, subtle at first, then sharp, like the whole room had inhaled. In the blink of an eye, Promise appeared, her silver outfit dazzling the eyes. Her hair matched the metallic sheen, cascading down her shoulders, and her eyes locked on me with no hint of hesitation.
“And this man,” she said, her tone frigid, “also killed Sunstrider. We must kill him.”
Before anyone else could react, she raised her hand. The wind itself stirred violently, sucking out the oxygen from me. I gasped, my lungs spasming, but there was nothing to breathe. I felt my chest collapse in on itself, every second a needle of panic. Promise wasn’t just playing around. She was suffocating me, pulling the air out of my very body.
Promise, the power copier. I had heard of her, seen scraps of intel passed around, but nothing captured just how terrifying she could be. She didn’t just mimic powers. She fused them, twisted them together into something greater than the sum of their parts. Windbreaker’s aerokinesis had never looked this lethal. She must have been blending it with something else, but the effect was monstrous. No air, no life. A slow, choking death in front of them all.
Rage boiled inside me.
Weren’t you supposed to be superheroes? The fuck are you doing with the murder business?
Garuda’s voice rose with alarm. “Promise, this is wrong.”
She didn’t falter. Her lips curved, not quite a smile, more of a sneer. “I call the shots, remember? Especially, with Sword Meister dead! Those SRC cunts really are hindering us. Standing orders? Standing orders!? Now, one more of us is dead!”
Garuda’s tone hardened. “What if this murder gets out? You have an image to preserve.”
“Oh, please,” Promise scoffed, the wind tightening around me. My lungs screamed, my vision blurred. “The public loves me. And we can just blame it on the telekinetic.”
The edges of my sight went black. The pounding in my chest became unbearable, my body jerking as instinct fought against the absence of breath. But then, something else sparked in me… an idea, a trigger I hadn’t thought of before. If intangibility limited and ceased my breathing ability, maybe suffocation itself could force the activation.
And then, suddenly, I slipped. Not through their grip, but through the world itself. My form dissolved, falling, and vanishing into the ground beneath me.
I turned off my intangibility and surfaced a few meters away from them, lungs heaving as if I had just dragged myself out of drowning. The brief reprieve didn’t last. Thunderbolt’s hands lit up in violent arcs, the air popping with static before she unleashed her electrokinesis at me. The bolts licked the ground where I had stood, but I was already gone, slipping intangible through the wall and into the building’s inner hallway.
The screams of panicked civilians echoed as I sprinted past them, my footsteps pounding, each stride carrying me closer to escape. The walls behind me groaned and then burst outward as Iron Bulwark tore through them, his metal-clad body shrugging off plaster and steel as if they were paper.
I pushed harder, lungs burning, until I broke into the back alley. Without hesitation, I made for the highway. My body felt lighter as adrenaline dulled the fatigue, and for a moment, I imagined I might just outrun them. Then the pavement cracked with each thunderous step of Iron Bulwark closing in.
I darted into the open asphalt of the road, cars screeching as drivers slammed brakes and swerved to avoid me. My eyes locked on a blue, expensive-looking car with its hood popped open. Perfect. I leapt, landing on the hood as the startled driver cursed at me in disbelief. Without hesitation, I reached through the window, nicking his throat just enough to make blood bead. His face drained of color, eyes wide with terror, and he scrambled out without another word.
Sliding into the seat, I gripped the wheel. The traffic light ahead flickered green, and I slammed my foot on the accelerator. The engine roared, tires squealing. Just as the car surged forward, Promise materialized in front of me in a blur of silver, her hair whipping from the sudden stop. Superspeed… of course. She stood, fists clenched, calm in the chaos as horns blared and vehicles swerved around her.
I didn’t slow down.
She tightened her stance, readying to punch straight through the car. Her confidence only confirmed my suspicion that she had copied Iron Bulwark’s invulnerability. That could be the only reason she was so confident in throwing a punch. Smashing into her at full speed would be suicide. So instead, I phased the car intangible, the frame ghosting through her body and mine as though she were nothing more than mist.
Temptation gnawed at me. One flick of concentration, one moment of turning the car tangible, and I could have left her a pulp of flesh and shattered bone under the weight of steel and momentum. But when I glanced back at the rear-view mirror, I saw how her fist had obliterated the asphalt where the car had passed. A single strike had cratered the road. A mix of speed and invulnerability wasn’t just defense; it was devastating force. I silently wondered how many powers she could copy at once, and what limits, if any, tethered her. Because from where I stood, Promise looked untouchable.
The phasing wore on me, the edges of my vision flickering dark. My breath came ragged, chest screaming. Phasing an entire car while still maintaining traction on asphalt wasn’t something I thought I would do someday. It was draining me faster than I could recover. Power fatigue gnawed at my bones, each second heavier than the last.
Then Garuda appeared above, golden wings spread wide, feathers whistling as they dropped like divine spears. The second they embedded into the car, they erupted with glowing forcefields, trying to trap me inside the vehicle. I cursed, reacting on instinct. My body phased, sliding through the seat, through the floor, and then through the car itself. I tumbled, rolling hard onto the asphalt before the world tilted, and I slipped off the highway edge into the void beneath the overpass.
The ground rushed up at me. At the last second, a truck passed underneath, its container yawning open in motion. I phased through its metal wall and crashed into boxes stacked high. The impact burst them open, and I lay sprawled in a rain of rubber and silicone. Dildos and dozens of them bounced off my chest and face, tumbling around me in mocking silence.
I groaned, covering my eyes with one hand. “Smooth,” I muttered. “Real smooth.”
The truck rumbled forward, rocking me gently as the chaos outside grew smaller. I forced my body still, each breath slow and careful, hoping the Vanguard wouldn’t sweep the vehicle.
Minutes passed before the truck finally slowed, brakes squealing as it came to a stop. I pushed myself up, wiped a smear of blood from my forehead, and phased through the container wall to the passenger side. The driver jumped, mouth opening to yell, but I slammed him against the door, fists hammering until he went limp. I stripped him of his oversized clothes, the fabric hanging loose on my frame, but functional enough.
I pulled the cap down low over my half-exposed face and stepped out of the truck, leaving the unconscious man in his seat. My body still ached, and fatigue gnawed at me, but I kept moving. Because stopping meant dying.
And dying wasn’t on today’s schedule.
I tugged the stolen jacket tighter, its oversized sleeves dangling past my hands as I walked away from the dense areas. My face was still sticky with blood from earlier, and every step felt heavier than the last. I wanted to check if Bunny had reached out, if he’d called the number I left on his palm. So, I pulled out the phone, thumb hovering over the cracked screen.
The device refused to light up. I pressed harder, swiped, and held the power button, but nothing. A tiny scorch mark lingered near the charging port. That bitch, Thunderbolt, must’ve fried it during her little lightning stunt.
“Fuck…” I muttered, rubbing my face. That phone was my lifeline, and now it was a piece of junk. My only line to Bunny, gone, because I underestimated them.
By the time I dragged myself back to the building I called home, the hallways felt colder than usual, the lights humming above like they were whispering accusations. I unlocked the door to my unit, half-hoping Silver or Onyx would be there to tell me I wasn’t crazy, that I hadn’t lost control of this spiral. But it was empty. Worse, she wasn’t there either. My girlfriend’s absence gnawed at me.
I threw the dead phone on the counter, frustration bubbling over, until I noticed the landline blinking. An old, dusty thing that hardly ever rang. I picked it up, scrolling through the missed calls. A string of attempts from an unknown number.
The light blinked again. A voicemail.
My chest tightened as I pressed play.