Short Change: Heroes with Oddly Specific Powers

by Brett P. S.

  There wasn’t a ghost of a chance that ...

  “Sounds like a pretty good deal, actually.”

  The nerve!

  “Might I remind you, lad … these two were sent to kill you.”

  “But they’re not going to if I say yes, right?” Miles replied.

  “Spineless coward!”

  “Say what you want, old man. My life is valuable to me.”

  So that’s how they want to play this game? Simon wasn’t going to have it. Not with this. He worked too hard to let it all circle down the drain.

  “Shake on it, then?” Leblanc smiled as she held out her hand.

  “Oh, they’ll put your powers to use, lad,” Simon blurted. “You’ll be doing the devil’s work.”

  “Shut it, old man,” Arc said.

  “That murder you witnessed … that’s the tip of the Savage Steel Iceberg.”

  “I said, shut it!”

  “I will not be silenced! You are devils, all of you … and this boy will be the same … a cold blooded killer!”

  That one made him stop, at least. Mr. Emmerson stood half a step from the older woman, his arm outstretched, though not completely. It all hinged on this … on whether or not he accepted their offer. Simon felt the twilight years of his life begin to waver.

  “On second thought,” Miles started, but Leblanc lunged forward and grabbed his hands anyway.

  “Too late.”

  Chapter 9

  Split Up

  Marseille, France

  “I won’t let you take him!” Simon screamed with a coarse breath.

  “Seems the tables have turned, old man,” Franklin said, drawing one of his handguns. “Your life no longer has any meaning.”

  He held the sight up high and aimed it at Simon’s head. Franklin let loose a sigh. His stare broke off toward the ceiling and the walls of the storage facility. Poor chap, but there were no paths that led away from this.

  “A body would hardly put the boy in good spirits,” Simon blurted.

  “Oh, him?” Franklin said, looking back. “He won’t remember a thing by the time Leblanc’s through. Last action Miles Emmerson will recall was working for Savage Steel. Completely loyal.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Maybe she’ll give him a checkered past. Make him a mercenary. I don’t really care.”

  “I see,” Simon said with his head drooped low. “So that’s how it’s going to be.”

  “Any last words?”

  Franklin waited for a reply, but the air was filled with a deadening silence for a longer time than he felt comfortable enduring. That was when Leblanc let out a shrill cry.

  “Ouch! That stung!” she hissed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I … I don’t know,” she answered. “Something’s interfering with my resonance.”

  “That’s new,” Franklin replied hesitantly. Something in his gut made him feel uncomfortable. He just didn’t know quite what.

  “I don’t like it,” Leblanc said. “Arc, it’s in your hands now.”

  “Guess it couldn’t be helped.”

  As Leblanc took a few steps back, Franklin steadied himself and fired a stream of fire and metal that rippled through the air in a fraction of a second. However, when his eyes finally caught up with the bullet, there was no blood shed. Rather, something peculiar happened.

  “Not so fast!” came the kid’s voice from behind.

  “You …”

  Unbelievable! He positioned a single coin at an angle 45 degrees perpendicular to the path of the bullet. His telekinetic powers were beyond impressive … or maybe he had a little help. Regardless, this wasn’t going to be easy.

  “You’re going to have to go through me first,” Emmerson said.

  Simon cheered, “Good show, my boy! I’ll take care of the resident psychic!”

  The old man ran off past them, giving chase to Leblanc, who’d since vanished. Not a very interesting fight, at any rate. This one, though … this one was special.

  “I don’t get it,” Emmerson asked. “You’re just going to let him get away?”

  Franklin grinned and replied, “Leblanc can handle herself. Besides, it’s really you that I’m after.”

  Chapter 10

  Defacing Currency

  Marseille, France

  “You ready for this?” Arc said with a sigh.

  “Heck yes.”

  Miles tensed his muscles and focused on his remaining coins. He held thirteen altogether, but he could sense a few lying around the warehouse as well. It was going to take some concentration to draw them out though, and that was an unaffordable luxury. More importantly, one of his coins … he felt a much weaker connection to it. It was as if he had less of an ability to control it. He glanced over and saw that while it deflected the bullet, there was some damage to the overall structure of it.

  “Good,” Arc replied. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  Arc strafed as he drew a second hand gun and fired both in rapid succession. Their thumping rhythm broke the deafening silence of the warehouse, but Miles was able to deflect them. Now it was his turn. With the few good coins he’d been saving, he flung them at Arc’s forehead … but they missed? Arc’s body leapt into the air and performed a series of bizarre maneuvers that defied conventional physics. In mid-jump, he slid to the right and then up into a summersault before landing perfectly on the cement ground.

  “You got some moves!” Miles stated.

  “They’re not moves. They’re paths.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “A bullet does not have ‘moves.’”

  Arc fired only a single shot, and Miles could discern the trajectory. This one headed straight between his eyes, so he gravitated a lump of coins around his forehead. However, the bullet went right around them and tore a bit of flesh from his shoulder. The motion was swift, but he could tell enough to know that wasn’t where the gun aimed. So, this guy could manipulate paths. What an annoying power.

  “Why the heck did you do that?” Miles groaned, clutching his shoulder. “If that was your power, you could have killed me easily just now.”

  “Maybe,” Ark replied with a smirk. “What will you do now?”

  Miles could feel the blood pumping throughout his whole body, and the rush of adrenaline made it so he could barely feel any pain in his left shoulder. Granted, this Arc fellow was pretty spot on. He was accurate enough to get the point across without hampering Miles’ fighting ability. For better or worse, Arc seemed to be issuing a challenge.

  “Let’s see you curve a bullet around this, you jerk!”

  Miles reached out with all of his conscious energies to find every scrap that he could use. A bit of change here and there. Miscellaneous items scattered throughout the warehouse … and there it was. Among the myriad of coinage was a single vessel. A piggy bank jar. With his focus, they burst out of a cardboard carrier and made their way to him. Miles found himself surrounded by a cloud of medallions from many lands. Pesos, Yen, Pennies and …

  “Let’s be ‘Franc,’ Arc. You can’t beat me.”

  “Was … was that a pun?”

  “Yes. Yes it was.”

  Arc practically face palmed, but Miles didn’t care all that much. The real battle started now. He separated the change into two spherical layers, oscillating in opposite rotations, while at the same time, expanding and contracting with each breath he took. There was less than twenty dollars surrounding him altogether, but it was enough to block any bullet.

  Arc fired quick successions of powerful bursts. His bullets swiveled through the air and made contact with the shield, but each attempt fell short with another coin. Miles stood his ground and waited for a ripe opportunity as soon as he could find one. If Arc could really manipulate paths, he shouldn’t have had much of issue getting through, no matter what the complexity. There must have been some kind of limitation.

&nb
sp; There he was! Miles sent a barrage of metal toward him and in a flurry like a winter storm, he shot a coin from every angle. There was no way he was dodging. No chance in heck! A hundred cracks sang through the damp air as Arc fell to the ground with a broken arm. Oh yes, that one had to hurt. Still, to have come out of it without much more than a damaged limb. That was pretty darn amazing.

  “Impressive, Emmerson,” Arc said.

  He was breathing heavily as he spoke and seemed to wince in pain with each inhale. His working arm did the job of holstering his side arm, while the other one laid at his side. It flopped down, as if the willpower disappeared from it.

  “You can call me Short Change.”

  “You might really … have what it takes, kid.”

  The nerve to insist!

  “I’m not joining up with you.”

  Nevertheless, Arc just grinned.

  “I know, but that’s … not what I’m talking about.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “There will be others, kid,” he started, “who they’ll send to hunt you down. You want to stop that, don’t you?”

  “Well … yeah, that’d be nice.”

  “Then there’s only one person you need to deal with.”

  Yeah right, he thought to himself, “It’s never that easy.”

  “The owner of Savage Steel, your former employer. He’s the one who has a vendetta with you.”

  “Why is that?”

  “The merger today just made Savage Steel the largest arms manufacturer in Europe. It was a pact made in blood, and you saw the trail. Richard Adamson wants you erased because you’re a danger to his whole empire.”

  That explained the psychic he brought with him. She was probably going to erase his knowledge of the incident … and if that didn’t work, it would have come to this anyway. Still, there appeared to be misaligned allegiances when it came to Savage Steel. Madame Emma Leblanc. She didn’t seem to be playing by the rules either.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because, believe it or not, I don’t only work for Mr. Adamson. There’s someone else, who I can’t name … and I really think you have what it takes.”

  “I’m not a killer,” Miles stammered.

  “Nobody said anything about that, Emmerson,” Arc replied. He glanced off toward some corner of the warehouse. His expression was one of concern. “Looks like your friend took care of Leblanc after all.”

  “What the heck?” Miles blurted. That old man?

  “Time is short, kid. If you decide you’re up to it, you can find the Iron Giant at the new Savage Steel Mill in Paris, three days from now. He’ll be giving a press conference about the merger at noon so be there bright and early.”

  Arc seemed to have regained most of his composure by the end of their conversation. He was something else, but the idea that there were others … that thought planted a lump deep in Miles’ throat. However, there wasn’t much time to contemplate the idea before Arc leapt up to the top of one of the warehouse shelves.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Miles shouted, still itching to fight.

  “Try and stop me, kid.”

  Chapter 11

  Of Value

  Marseille, France

  Simon raced around the bend of shelves as fast as his legs could carry him, but as chance would have it, the home field advantage was his. Leblanc passed by the only other exit to the underground warehouse and ran herself into a corner. Boxes piled high on shelves to at least four feet above her head.

  “There’s nowhere to run,” Simon said. “The only way out is through me, I’m afraid.”

  “And what are you going to do?”

  “A good salesman always carries insurance,” he replied, tapping with his index finger, a small knife adhered to his waist. “The mark of a great one is never having to use it.”

  “I see,” she nodded with a sigh.

  There wasn’t any reason to use deadly force … at least not just yet.

  “Well, shall we?”

  Simon put up his fists. The idea of hitting a woman made his stomach churn, but the alternative was much less desirable.

  “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “I’ve an idea. I imagine I’ll have a few less by the end of it.”

  Leblanc took out the pin that held up her hair in a delicate formation, letting it all fall down. She tossed the trinket aside and exhaled a deep breath. Simon wondered about her resonance in particular. It seemed to have to do something with the mind, but how much so was yet unknown. Physical contact appeared to be necessary at least, but how much could she affect with a glancing brush?

  However, Simon did little more than blink in passing contemplation when Leblanc vanished completely. It was as if she was there, but then she wasn’t. A specter, but where in blazes did she … Simon felt a soft pat on his right shoulder. He swerved around and knocked her clean off her heels.

  “Not so fast,” he said. “I don’t know how you did that, but I’m sure you can’t …” and then she was gone again.

  This time, however, he caught her out of the corner of his eye. She was fast, incredibly so, but he could still track her movements as she darted around their small area of the warehouse. After her dancing around seemed an effort in futility, she stopped briefly. Teleportation? Increased speed? No, that wasn’t it.

  “Memory!” he exclaimed. “You’ve been erasing my short term memory.”

  “You picked up quickly,” she said.

  “I see you don’t need physical contact to make that happen.”

  “With a touch, I can do so much more!”

  Leblanc vanished again, but reappeared with her fist barreling towards his face. He barely had time to catch it, much less react before the punch landed him square in the jaw. It threw him off his guard and a second later, she landed a kick and a quick jab, before he finally managed to block. Leblanc stepped back. She didn’t seem overly eager to finish the job, but instead revealed a smile.

  “What’s so funny?” Simon asked.

  “Do you recall your mother’s maiden name?”

  Simon searched for the answer in his own recollection. He was certain that he possessed a mother, but no name came to mind. Maiden name was the least of it. First. Last. It didn’t seem to matter. It was all completely gone.

  “So that’s the extent of your resonance, then. You can alter memories. Erase them, even.”

  “If you don’t let me pass, you’ll lose everything precious to you.”

  Simon paused for a moment. It wasn’t going to be easy to deal with this one. Aided by the powers of her resonance, she was faster than he was. Much faster. Simon collected himself on the situation and could not shake the feeling that this young woman might have been guided as much as he was by an overwhelming aversion to killing.

  Still, “If that’s your strategy, then I’m afraid you’ll be unpleasantly surprised.”

  “What?”

  “I place stock in physical things, young lady. Memories hold no value.”

  “Liar!”

  Fired up, she ran at him and launched a flurry of blows. It all happened in flashes, much too fast for him to read. He felt the impacts moments after they’d actually happened, once her arms only started retracting. Simon’s muscles ached from welts that were bound to last for weeks. An attack that he barely comprehended bloodied and bruised his face.

  However, Leblanc didn’t finish him. Instead, she stepped back. It was definitely taking a toll on her. Her breathing looked labored, and her arms and shoulders drooped from exhaustion. It was as if the fight had gone on for several minutes, although he’d only been conscious for less than one.

  “Is that all?” he asked, wiping the blood from his nose.

  “Remember any of your family?”

  “Never cared in the first place.”

  “What about your place of birth?”
/>   “That was years ago.”

  “How about your last wife, then?”

  “She was probably a bitch.”

  Simon watched as Leblanc whipped out a switchblade she previously concealed by her waist. So, it was a knife after all. She took it and dashed toward him at a break neck pace. He reached for his own weapon. He wanted to use it. He knew he should, but his heart wouldn’t allow it. He was not about to cut a woman, but … for no apparent reason … she stopped. Leblanc stood in frozen form, almost mid swing, and he didn’t understand why.

  Simon stared at her awkward posture for a few before the physical reality caught up with him, and he noticed a small, reddened splotch on her suit that grew with each passing second. She staggered back, clutched her side and dropped her knife.

  “How unlucky,” she said. “To end like this … I …”

  Those who lived by the sword, it seemed. Alternatively, the gun. It really didn’t matter. What a waste. Simon took a step forward, but Leblanc disappeared. She faded in and out of reality several times while she made her way past him. She was still using her resonance, as if she believed it was necessary to escape, but Simon didn’t have the heart to stop her. He could see the worth of her vitals rapidly approaching zero. No organs felt the trauma of a puncture wound, at least, but two arteries were bleeding out. Her life was limited to minutes now. Little more than minutes.

  She staggered out the exit door and up the stairs. Simon followed her into the city streets of Marseille and over through a quiet alley that overlooked a gently flowing river. She glanced back at him occasionally, giving wide-eyed stares as if it was all something from a dream. She stopped though, just in front of a guard railing that kept unwanted refuse from blowing into the river. Leblanc turned around and looked Simon straight in the eyes.

  “If this is what you need to do,” Simon said, “I won’t stop you.”

  The rest of it was also like a dream. It rattled through his mind like a slithering snake as he vaguely recalled walking back to the warehouse. Simon looked down at his hands on the way. For the first time, intended or not, they were sullied. It was only going to become worse from here on. This was a rude awakening and the vast bulk of it did not sit well with him … not at all.

  Chapter 12

  Righteous Path

  Outside Paris, France

  The carriage rattled along the tracks as fields of green slowly passed by through the tiny view of a window. Several hours passed since Miles last laid eyes on Marseille. He glanced over his seat to see the towering city of lights. The city of culture. The heart of France. This was the end of the line, one way or the other.