by Drew Hayes
“You could throw a little bad luck their way,” Mary pointed out.
“Too risky. Bad luck for one of them might be meeting Vince who kicks their ass, but another merely runs past him and grabs our flag. Besides, they won’t be depending on luck. If Britney was smart enough to come up with all this, she’ll have them using methodical canvassing techniques so that no stone goes unturned. Wit and skill can beat out luck when properly applied.”
“You sound like you speak from experience.”
“Let’s not pretend you're asking questions when you’ve scoured my brain enough to know the answers.”
“Fine, we’ll just- damn it,” Mary swore.
“What damn it?”
“She’s probably referring to us,” Gilbert said, bounding over a hill and into view.
“They teleported in and heard our voices,” Mary explained.
Sure enough, a second, taller figure came right on Gilbert’s heels. He wore his hair neatly styled and spun a coin deftly between his fingers. Terrance was a student Nick and Mary had only seen bust out his skill in Ranged Combat class, however it had left a large enough impression that both recognized him immediately.
“Why, Gilbert, I didn’t know you could bring people along when you teleported,” Nick said casually.
“It’s a new skill I’ve developed. Funny thing about us real Supers, we just keep on improving.”
“We take out the weaker one first, then combine forces against Mary,” Terrance directed, his eyes looking dead at Nick as he said ‘weaker one.’ If he was hoping to rile his opponent, he chose a poor strategy. Nick was under no misimpression of where he ranked in the hierarchy of fighting prowess.
“Good idea,” Nick agreed. “You wouldn’t want Gilbert to come at me alone and lose again. Especially now that he knows he’s just fighting a Powered.”
“You handle the girl,” Gilbert told Terrance. “I owe my good friend Nick here a solid punch to the jaw.”
“He’s baiting you,” Terrance said. “He wants to split our attention.”
There was a thudding sound as a large branch dropped to the ground a few feet from Terrance.
“What makes you think I’d let you gang up on him anyway?” Mary asked politely, mentally cracking the branch in half to drive home the point.
“Very well,” Terrance acquiesced. “I can handle her for at least some time. Be swift.”
“It’ll be over in a blink,” Gilbert promised.
“Wow, really? I mean, are you proud of that one? Is that a line you’re going to repeat when telling this story later in life?” Nick jeered.
“I... shut up. I’m going to kick your ass,” Gilbert said, vanishing from sight.
Nick braced himself. He didn’t know where the punch was coming from, but he knew it would be coming hard. Even worse than that, he knew that no matter what he did, he couldn’t block it. These next few minutes were going to suck heavily.
41.
Roy shook off an ice barrage and ran in swinging. Michael dodged to the side and retreated, quickly increasing the space between them. He let loose another flurry of freezing attacks which Roy didn’t even bother to avoid. They slowed him down a bit; however, the real problem dragging out this fight was Michael’s attack style. Instead of handling things head-on like he always had, Michael was using a ranged attack style and dodging like a spider monkey every time Roy came close enough to deliver a solid blow. Admittedly, Roy hadn’t sparred often with Michael in class, and given that he didn’t have enhanced strength or endurance it was a smart way to fight, yet something about it seemed to go in the face of the bald boy’s usual brash tactics.
Roy knew this was dragging on longer than it needed to, and the more time Alice spent up in the air, the more attention she was going to draw to them. He pushed off from his starting position and charged at Michael. It would open him up to getting frozen on vital parts of the anatomy; but that wouldn’t matter if he could land a good punch. Without even his ice-armor on to absorb the impact, Michael would be slowed significantly, if not crippled outright. All Roy had to do was make sure he targeted the appendages so he didn’t accidentally kill him.
Roy quickly closed the gap, taking a pair of freezing shots to his chest. He could feel the cold seep deep into his bones; however, it would take a lot more than that to stop Roy Daniels. He drew closer and readied himself to let fly, only to feel his footing go out from under him at the last moment. What should have been a fight-ender turned into a barely glancing shoulder blow as Michael slid away. Roy regained his balance and realized the ground beneath his run had been turned into solid ice. It was smart, it was crafty, and it confirmed what Roy had already begun to suspect.
“You had me going for a bit there,” Roy said, facing his opponent once more. “One thing, Michael would never think to take out someone’s footing on a charge. He’d be cooking up a way to beat them fist to fist.”
“Michael is something of an idiot,” Michael’s doppelganger agreed. “Strong, and with a useful power, but he lacks any real creative thinking.”
“I have to say, Adam, we figured you would take on Britney’s form,” Roy remarked.
“We’re weak on fighting people. It made more sense to double up on our heaviest hitter,” Adam/Michael said.
“Too bad you guys don’t have any real fighters,” Roy said. “I’m not going to take any joy in crushing you like this. You don’t have Michael’s training or experience in getting hit. You’re already favoring that shoulder. If you’d taken the form of someone like Chad or Stella you could have at least handled a few knocks.”
“It is indeed unfortunate that there are so few people with damage resistant bodies among us,” Adam/Michael agreed. “Hector’s rubbery form offers some protection, however it would have been quite inefficient against you. That’s all right; I’ve already found a way to put myself back in this fight.”
Before Roy could banter back, it was Adam/Michael’s turn to charge. He raced forward, freezing blasts flying ahead of him. Roy took one in the shoulder that formed into a solid block, and before he could recover another struck him directly in the face. There were a few dark, primitively terrifying moments when Roy couldn’t see or breathe. He kept his brain from going into panic mode with forced control and used his free arm to tear away the ice like it was little more than packing foam.
“Real cute, asshole,” Roy said, taking a deep gulp of air. “Too bad that’s not going to beat me.”
“Didn’t think it would,” Adam, just Adam, replied. “But as you said, for this fight to be any good, I need the form of someone who can take a super-strength punch. That meant getting close enough to touch you.” Adam’s form was already growing wobbly, his body altering itself to take on the new shape it had grazed. There was a swift sound of muscle condensing and bones rearranging and just like that, a whole new person stood before Roy and under Alice.
“What the shit?” Adam/Hershel cursed as he felt his new body settle. “Why am I the fat kid?”
“Oh my, you didn’t realize I was a conditional shifter did you?” Roy laughed as he shook off the last of the ice. “My natural form is Hershel. It takes a trigger to bring out all the magnificence you see before you.”
“I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what that is,” Adam/Hershel ventured sheepishly.
“Nope, but I’ll make you an offer. I don’t really fancy the idea of beating the hell out of someone who looks like my brother, so if you turn back, I’ll only break one of your legs to incapacitate you.”
“How very kind of you.”
Roy began lumbering forward. “What can I say? I’m a giver.”
* * *
Vince and Camille had been walking for nearly twenty minutes with no sign of the two people Alex had sensed. Admittedly, they had taken a very roundabout route in the process, but each was beginning to feel like they should have encountered someone by now. Part of it was merely mental fatigue: one can only jump at each twig snap and rustling leaf s
o many times before the adrenaline began to fade. Still, they endeavored to keep up their wits, which proved to be a very good thing. It was that attention to detail that alerted Vince to the rustle of footsteps behind him, and the familiar tingle at the back of the neck roused him to impending energy being conjured. Vince didn’t have time to think, only for a single burst of movement. He grabbed Camille by her narrow shoulders and hurled her away with every bit of strength he had.
The explosion detonated directly under Vince’s feet, sending him airborne with the shockwave and dropping him into a crumpled pile on the ground. He was unconscious before he even returned to the earth, his feet singed and bleeding at the ankles and his legs shattered in various places.
“Shit, that idiot damn near got himself killed,” Allen said, his position unchanged since he had fired the green exploding blast.
“He pushed the girl away and inadvertently stepped into your attack. No one can call that intended lethal force,” Hector assured him.
“Yeah. Good thing, too. I heard that guy can be a bastard to face head on,” Allen said.
“Him? I don’t see it,” Hector replied.
Camille heard their discussion like it was far away, her ears ringing from the same explosion that that had rendered Vince inert. She slowly pulled herself back to her feet. That idiot had nearly killed himself keeping her safe. He wasn’t supposed to do that. That wasn’t why she was here. She was supposed to help him, not endanger him. She took a few tentative steps forward to get her bearings.
“Sorry, Camille, can’t let you do that,” Hector cautioned her, bounding forward in a few ultra-stretchy steps and putting himself between Camille and Vince’s still slightly smoking body. “The last thing we need is him healed up and awake.”
“Yeah, we’re going to have to incapacitate you as well,” Allen said, hurrying to join his partner.
“It’s nothing personal. If you don’t struggle, I promise we’ll keep it gentle. We could probably just strand you high in a tree until the match is over,” Hector offered.
“Nah, man, they have a flier on their team. We’ll have to at least break her legs,” Allen corrected.
“How about we stick Vince in a tree and take out one of her ankles so she can’t heal him?” Hector replied.
“I guess that’s okay,” Allen agreed. It seemed soft-hearted to him; however, Camille had that aura of innocence that made hurting her feel like something akin to kicking a puppy. Besides, giving a healer a reason to hold a grudge was just plain stupid, even Allen knew that.
Camille merely watched them as they talked, trying to make the world become steady and preparing herself for what was to come. She wished she weren’t so frail; even this little bit of dizziness could make or break the fight that was about to happen. She didn’t have time for wishes, unfortunately. Vince was hurt and these people stood between her and helping him. She narrowed her focus down to that single fact.
Vince was hurt. Nothing else mattered. Not her shyness. Not her fear. Not her injury. Not these two warriors. Nothing else. Vince was hurt, and she was the only one here who could heal him.
Camille grabbed the coat of her uniform and clutched the zipper, racing it downward and hurling off the garment in one fluid motion.
42.
Nick spat a wad of phlegmy blood into the soft grass and wiped the remaining red trickle from his mouth. Gilbert’s punches weren’t the hardest he’d ever felt; however, the boy clearly hadn’t been slacking in combat training. After just a few of them, Nick’s vision was swimming at the edges and he was relatively certain there was at least a fracture in his jaw. He couldn’t take a whole lot more of this pounding, not if he hoped to pull his weight in the encounter. Gilbert materialized in front of him and leveled Nick with an elbow to the nose. The blow sent him sprawling to the ground and a fresh spurt of blood poured down his face.
“Not bad,” Nick said from his prone position. “I mean, if we ignore the fact that you’ve had over a year of physical training along with a few comprehensive courses in fighting under veteran Heroes. We have to leave that out of consideration, because if we included it then your inability to take me down would be just plain pathetic.”
“You’re the one on the ground,” Gilbert snarled at him.
“And it only took you five tries to get me, the physically frail Powered, down here. If you fuck as well as you fight I’m guessing your only successful pickup line is a chloroform-soaked rag.”
“Stop letting him get to you and finish it already!” Terrence yelled. He diverted his attention back to Mary, who had used the break in concentration to hurl a large chunk of tree at Terrance’s head. As it drew nearer the wooden projectile began to glow, then it shrank down nearly out of sight as it plopped uselessly against Terrance’s uniform jacket. His fingers dipped into his pocket and emerged with three quarters. He hurled them at Mary, a glow permeating them before they even left his hand. By the time Mary deflected them, the quarters had the circumference of dining room tables. That would have been bad enough, but the increased size did nothing to decrease the force they’d been thrown with, carrying them forward like the circles of crushing currency they had become. Mary had kept them away so far; however, it was becoming clear that these exchanges were more taxing for her than Terrance. All he had to do was shrink her attacks to ineffectiveness. Her mental endurance meant she could keep it up for some time, but this was a game where a single mistake on either part would create an immediate loser. It was not the type of battle she preferred to engage in.
“You heard your boss, Gilbert, better finish me off,” Nick said, nimbly rising back to his feet. “I don’t think he wants to keep trying his luck with Mary.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Terrance is clearly winning,” Gilbert shot back.
“Only if you ignore the fact that sooner or later he’ll run out of stuff to throw. Not to mention Mary doesn’t have to throw things at him, she can just pick him up and smash him to the ground,” Nick bluffed. She couldn’t use that strategy against someone as frail as Terrance safely, but there was no reason they needed to know that.
“If she could do that she would have,” Gilbert said.
“Maybe. Or more likely she’s keeping him occupied so you and I can have our little dance. See, I’m going to beat you, Gilbert, because sooner or later you’ll make a mistake and I’ll capitalize. If you were a better fighter maybe you could knock me out, but since this is all you’ve got I think we both know it’s just a matter of time.”
“You talk a lot of shit for a guy with blood all over his uniform,” Gilbert said. He kept his voice calm but the antsy way he shifted his weight told Nick that his ploy was working.
“A brilliant red testament to your failure. Each drop a symbol of my resilience and your weakness, because even with all this loss of life fluids, I’m still awake to call you a bitch.”
Gilbert didn’t reply this time, instead he teleported behind Nick. He resisted the urge strike him and forced himself to think smart. Nick was baiting him to prolong the battle. He wanted Gilbert to keep chipping away at him while Mary ran Terrance out of ammunition. Gilbert wasn’t going to play along; he’d shut Nick’s every yapping face hole using strategy. Gilbert leapt onto Nick’s back and sealed his right arm around the slender boy’s neck while his left palm drove the sandy-haired head forward. Gilbert circled Nick’s diaphragm with his own short legs and squeezed forcefully. This would drive the air out of Nick while Gilbert’s neck lock kept him from getting a new supply. It was a risky move that a trained combatant could navigate out of, however, Gilbert was certain someone as weak as Nick would be unconscious before he could work his way free.
Sure enough, Nick collapsed backward onto the ground and gasped as the majority of his oxygen was driven from his body. Gilbert smiled ruefully at his victory as he felt Nick’s body tremble on top of his own and couldn’t resist a bit of taunting.
“Where’s that constant chatter now? Don’t have anything to say before you pass ou
t?”
Nick let out a ragged gasp that contained two barely audible words. If one hadn’t been as close as Gilbert it would sounded like a breath someone had stuffed syllables into. To him, in a moment that would haunt his memories, they formed two perfect conjugations that made no sense for the span of about a second.
“Got... you...”
Gilbert’s head exploded in pain as his whole body began to tremor uncontrollably. His grip was destroyed, but by the time he lost contact with Nick’s body Gilbert was already unconscious. Nick was too, lying a few inches away with a taser clutched tightly in his hand, the metal prongs pressed forcefully against his own leg. It was the only weapon he’d been allowed to keep from his original backpack of tricks and he’d hidden it in his pocket as soon as they were on the field. Gilbert was an impossible opponent to get the drop on due to his constant jumping about, and Nick had known that from the beginning. Even tricking him into using a hold would have been useless if he’d seen a counter coming. If the attack could be concealed, on the other hand, conducted through his own body, Nick would be able to take away the teleporter’s advantage. It was still a difficult and painful proposition, which might explain why Nick’s electrocuted and unconscious body nonetheless sported a grin some might describe as “shit-eating.”
“Well then,” Mary said calmly. “Now that those are two are done, I suppose that just leaves you and me.”
“Bring it on, I can go all day,” Terrance said. If he could make his stock last until Gilbert woke up then this fight could still be salvaged.
“Actually, you can’t. Funny thing about keeping all of your stuff to throw in your pockets: they can be ripped open and their contents can be covertly stolen away while you’re distracted.”
Terrance felt his stomach drop to his feet. He reached into the pocket he’d been using and found it intact, with a single dime remaining. Investigation of his other pockets revealed the unfortunate truth that they’d been torn along the seams and his entire stockpile was now absent from his body.