CONTENTS
Copyright
Get Book 1
ISSUE ONE
CHAPTER - 1
CHAPTER - 2
CHAPTER - 3
CHAPTER - 4
CHAPTER - 5
CHAPTER - 6
CHAPTER - 7
CHAPTER - 8
CHAPTER - 9
CHAPTER - 10
CHAPTER - 11
CHAPTER - 12
ISSUE TWO
CHAPTER - 13
CHAPTER - 14
CHAPTER - 15
CHAPTER - 16
CHAPTER - 17
CHAPTER - 18
CHAPTER - 19
CHAPTER - 20
CHAPTER - 21
CHAPTER - 22
CHAPTER - 23
CHAPTER - 24
ISSUE THREE
CHAPTER - 25
CHAPTER - 26
CHAPTER - 27
CHAPTER - 28
CHAPTER - 29
CHAPTER - 30
CHAPTER - 31
CHAPTER - 32
CHAPTER - 33
CHAPTER - 34
CHAPTER - 35
CHAPTER - 36
CHAPTER - 37
EPILOGUE
FREE STUFF
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About the Author
Author's Notes
SPILLED MILK
Two Percent Power Book 2
by Brian Manning & Allen Manning
Copyright © 2016 Brian Manning
All rights reserved.
Have you read Two Percent Power: Delivering Justice yet? Book one of the trilogy is now available in most major ebook markets.
www.EvilTwinBrian.com/TwoPercentPower
www.EvilTwinBrian.com
COVER
Pencils: Brian Manning
Inks: Allen Manning
Colors: Thomas Mason (Mental Studios)
ISSUE ONE
CHAPTER
1
The glass doors of the pawn shop shattered, flying open, as a security guard flew into a car parked at the curb. The alarm blared, and people nearby started screaming and running in confusion. Spectators took cover, grabbing their phones to call the police, or get some good video of the action.
A bull of a man stepped out of the pawn shop into the street. A literal bull of a man, with a long snout, flared nostrils, and two dark brown, glossy horns curving forward to sharp points.
A second man stepped out close on the bull’s heels. A man of average height and build dwarfed by the brute before him. The small figure used his friend’s massive form as a shield, as if the living barrier would repel the cacophony of car alarms, and panicked people.
Bull Dozer and Pulverati. Two supers making their way to the city, in hopes of joining Sight’s empire. As other villains found out in recent weeks, they too had arrived late, finding out that the police took Sight into custody. After a city-wide battle, a group of heroes had inspired the residents to rise and fight to reclaim their neighborhoods from the Visionaries, Sight’s organization, bent on running the city. And just like the other villains that arrived a day late and a dollar short, they did what comes naturally. Crime spree.
“D’you get the bag?” Bull Dozer asked.
“What?” Pulverati asked.
The bull rolled his eyes and turned to his partner in crime, enunciating each word as if he were speaking to a child.
“Did…you…get…the bag?”
The smaller man didn’t hide his annoyance at the patronizing tone. He plucked the shoulder strap of a duffel bag with his thumb, in answer to the question.
“Yeah I got the bag.”
“Don’t move!” Another security guard staggered out of the broken front entrance of the pawn shop. He held a taser in his hands, pointed in Bull Dozer’s direction.
“Oh, so we’re supposed to surrender to you and your toy raygun?” Bull Dozer’s head swayed side to side with each heavy step, as he lumbered in the guard’s direction.
“I’m warning you, pal,” The guard said.
“Go ahead and—”
The pop and subsequent clicking from the guard’s taser cut Bull Dozer’s invitation short. The villain’s teeth clenched, as the two barbs struck him in the stomach, sending a current of electricity into his body. His muscles flexed against his will, but still obeyed his commands. He plucked the leads free by the two thin wires trailing back to the security guard’s weapon. Bull Dozer covered the last ten feet dipping his head low and lunging into the man’s chest.
The impact slammed the guard into the side of a parked van, as Bull Dozer’s spikes punctured the metal side. The man’s arms draped over the horns, holding his unconscious body up, as the brutish villain pulled away from the van. With a twist of his powerful body and a whip of his massive head, he hurled the man to the side, to land next to the first failed rent-a-hero.
A car skidded to a stop, as the driver honked his horn at Pulverati. The driver unleashed a string of obscenities and rude gestures at the unassuming man standing in the middle of the street. Pulverati turned to face the car, sneering at the rude interruption. The driver whipped his seatbelt to the side, and opened the door, ready to unleash his road rage. Before he could step out of the car, the villain unleashed his anger; a howling wail, that violently washed over the vehicle. The driver ducked behind his door, as the sonic assault shattered the front windshield and headlights. The car’s hood rippled under the punishing barrage, and the door almost twisted free of its hinges.
Three heroes arrive, responding to the call from their eye in the sky. Patrick Akiyama, a hero with the super ability to control milk, took the role of the leader of the group. Patrick wears a blue and silver woven kevlar suit, designed with a series of tubes and pouches storing the liquid he needs to utilize his power to the fullest.
To his side is Sean Cobb, also known as Black Paralysis. He inherited the ability and took on the moniker of his father, a famed superhero from a previous generation, to honor his legacy. Sean’s form fitting outfit is a breathable padded black fabric trimmed with fiber optic piping that glows blue when he summons his inner strength, or chi, to cause temporary paralysis to his foes.
Bringing up the rear is Graham Anderson, who uses the alias Boost. The team’s powerhouse, Graham was bestowed with the strength, durability, and sometimes recklessness of a runaway freight train. He wears a black jacket with yellow trim, zipped up to a short collar, and durable black pants. His uniform was updated to be more suitable for his close range grappling style, yet he still sports a pair of goggles hanging from his neck.
”A pair of supers. Robbing a pawn shop and causing chaos in the street”, the trio heard in their earpieces.
Troy Rouhani, known to the heroes as Broadband, is the team’s tech and networking genius. He is responsible for keeping everyone connected during their adventures, making sure they have all the necessary information. Troy directed Patrick, Sean, and Graham to the scene.
They watched as a man with an athletic build, wearing what looks like some strange hybrid of a tuxedo and fitted combat fatigues, shouted at a car in front of him. His voice rattled and shook the vehicle, shattering the windows and warping the metal body. Afterward, a man with the appearance of a minotaur rushed the beat up automobile, driving his horns into the front grill. The occupant fled as the bull man rolls the vehicle to its side with ease.
“That’s Bull Dozer, and Pulverati. Two known supers tracing a path of crime all the way from the Chicago area,” Broadband said. “They call themselves the Wrecking Crew.”
“What should we expect? I mean, besides potential property d
amage and bullfighting?” Patrick asked.
“Dozer’s going to be a handful. He’s known for knocking out pretty much every hero that has tried to bring him in.”
“Is that how he got his name? He’s a bull that puts people to sleep?” Boost asked. “That’s pretty clever.”
“He’s mine,” Black Paralysis said.
“Well then, now that Sean has claimed the role of the matador, what’s the small guy’s story?” Patrick asked.
“Pulverati. He was an amateur opera singer that discovered his ability during an argument with some hecklers in the park.” Broadband said.
“I think we’ve got a good idea of that ability.”
“Yes. His voice is a weapon, sending out concussive pulses. When he focuses on a small area, he’s able to pulverize pretty much anything with enough time.”
“Man, who’s the PR guy that came up with their names?” Boost said. “Manerpillar should set up an appointment to get some fresh ideas.”
“I heard that.” Manny said. Manuel Guerrero is the hero known as Manerpillar, with the ability to generate and manipulate an ectoplasmic silk. With it, he’s able to ensnare his opponents and even encase his body in a protective cocoon, giving him the appearance of a giant mutant caterpillar.
“The police are on their way,” Broadband said.
“Not fast enough,” Patrick said. “We need to put them down now.”
“What are we waiting for?” Black Paralysis ran towards the pair of villains.
“Let me guess, this is all a result of aggressive haggling over prices,” Boost said, gesturing to the pawn shop as he stepped out onto the street.
The two villains eyed the newcomers to their block party.
“Black Paralysis.” Bull Dozer said. “I’ve got a score to settle with you.”
“Nice to see I have a fan club,” Sean said, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.
“Your dad put my uncle in a hospital bed for months. He still can’t walk right.”
“Arachnofabio is your uncle?” Boost asked. “I guess good looks didn’t cross over into your branch of the family tree.”
“No, his uncle was a repeat offender. Let’s just say my dad got caught up in aggressive haggling over proper punishment,” Black Paralysis said.
“Wait, so your dad really did break backs to paralyze the bad guys?” Boost asked.
“What? No, he broke his uncle’s hip. And for the record, Arachnofabio was in a car accident.”
Bull Dozer took a step forward. “I gotta be honest; I don’t even like my uncle. But I got a lot less love for two-bit snitch capes like you.” He blew a short breath through his nostrils in a huff. “You think you can catch us? I got news for you. You’re ‘bout to catch these hands.”
Sean turned to Graham “I’ve been up since 5 in the morning, so please accept my apology for not answering with a snappy quip.” He turned to face Bull Dozer and rushed into battle.
“Tell him he’s about to catch some Zs.” Graham cupped his hands to amplify his voice.
“If you’re through providing one-liners, we’ve got a runner.” Patrick pointed to Pulverati who used Bull Dozer’s bravado as cover for his attempted escape.
Boost tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and sighed. “I hate when they run.”
“You mean, you hate to run.” Speetah said.
“Can you be a dear, and fetch this rapscallion for me?” Boost said
“I’m a couple of miles out, but I’m pretty sure I’d catch him before you,” Speetah said. “However, Abby and I have our hands full right now, so you boys will have to clean up your mess.”
With an after you gesture, Patrick invited Graham to lead the chase.
“Don’t stay on my account,” Beat Boxer said over her shoulder.
“They’re big boys, they can manage,” Speetah said. “Besides, it’s been a long day. I honestly don’t feel like running that far right now.”
Beat Boxer and Speetah, known as Abigail “Abby” Rouhani and Crystal Gerhardt, respectively, square up with the last of three young men. When all three were still conscious, they thought it would be a good idea to terrorize a couple of women as they passed.
Abby is a teenager gifted with the ability to flow in tune with anyone or anything in her way, leaving a brilliant red trail as she moves. She uses music as a method of dictating the pace and rhythm but discovered not too long ago that she no longer needs an external source to utilize her power. She wears a modified, stylish, black and red zip front hoodie and sweatpants, designed to conform to her body and prevent snagging on anything as she slips through tight openings.
Crystal’s super power is readily apparent in her appearance. She has the lean muscular build of a world class sprinter and a powerful rudder-like tail sprouting out from the base of her skull, trailing all the way down past her hips. Her sleeveless dark brown and gold tracksuit shows off her powerful arms and stops just above her calves. Even when relaxed, Crystal stands with most of her weight on the balls of her feet, always ready to pounce.
The scared goon whipped his head back and forth between the two women blocking his escape. His shifty eyes darted to every little object, looking for a weapon, or a distraction, so he could get away with only his ego bruised.
Crystal noted his nervous scanning. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just here to watch.” She walked to the nearby steps of an apartment building and sat, draping her tail across her lap.
“So how about we grab something to eat after this?” Abby asked.
“Sounds delightful,” Crystal said.
The man lunged in, hoping to tackle the small woman boxing him in. She rolled across his shoulders and down his back, as a trail of brilliant red streaks traced her path. With a quick thrust of her foot on his backside, Abby shoved the taller man face first, into a couple of trash cans.
“Pizza?” she asked.
“I could use a steak right about now,” Crystal answered.
“I’m kind of low on funds, so steak is probably a bit much for me.”
The bully stumbled to his feet and stepped in with a desperate wild swing. Abby turned and sidestepped as a spiral of red lights pulsed around her.
“Burgers?” she asked
“Burgers,” Crystal affirmed. “Now put your toys away, so we can go eat.”
Again, the attacker flailed his arms. Abby matched his forward momentum with a back handspring. As he came in close, her trailing foot whipped up and caught him under the chin, snapping his head back. His body bent away, mirroring the glowing red arc in front of him, as his unconscious body landed on top of the spilled contents of the garbage cans.
“Ooh, look at that! I took out the trash!” Abby said.
“You’ve been hanging around Boost too long.” Crystal walked up and kicked the man’s shoe several times to check if he was faking.
“I lost Pulverati,” Boost said.
“Is he serious?” Crystal asked, keeping the communication channel closed.
“You’ve seen him. He’s not built for speed,” Abby said.
“I’m right above him,” The wind whistled through Patrick’s mic as he dropped to the street below.
Pulverati had a full city block head start before Boost and Patrick gave chase. Without Speetah to run him down, it only took a couple of quick turns for the villain to break line of sight.
Bull Dozer was busy trading blows with Black Paralysis, and Boost wasn’t in the mood for a foot chase. Patrick launched a couple of milk tendrils to a nearby roof and pulled himself up for a better view. He leaped across a couple of buildings when he heard someone moving through an alleyway, kicking an empty can across the pavement.
He perched on the edge and watched as Pulverati grasped the strap of the duffel bag tighter, turning onto a smaller two-lane side street. Patrick saw the nervous thief peer around the corner, thinking he was clear.
The rubber on pavement clap of Patrick’s boots hitting the road behind Pulverati startled him. The super let out a smal
l startled yelp, as he spun to face the source of the sound.
The hero stood, as a white liquid rope recoiled into his sleeve. Slack-jawed, Pulverati started to speak. Patrick didn’t know if he was preparing to lash out with his devastating vocals, or ask for a bit of leniency. Not wanting to take chances, he whipped a hand out, hurling a chunk of white goo. The blob hit Pulverati on the jaw, clamping his mouth shut.
“Ah ah ah,” he said. “I didn’t give you permission to speak.”
The villain dropped to his knees, and looped the strap of the bag back over his head, pushing it forward.
He tried in vain to tell Patrick that he needed the money. That they had just arrived in town and hadn’t eaten in days. Perhaps he could tug on the heroic heartstrings a little.
It was unfortunate that his pleas just came out as indecipherable mumbling, with some large dramatic gestures thrown in, a silent film star overselling his dialogue.
“Sure sure, that’s what they all say,” Patrick replied, as he knelt to look inside the bag.
Patrick’s focus lapsed as he rifled through the contents. In that brief moment, Pulverati felt the milk gluing his mouth shut loosen just a bit. It wasn’t much, but it let him open his mouth a little more. The villain sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils and let out a bellowing bass-rich blast.
The hiss of air sucked into the villain’s nostrils alerted Patrick, affording him enough time to roll over one shoulder to avoid the punishing concussive beam.
The milk around Pulverati’s mouth burst into a fine mist, and the bag of stolen goods tore to shreds, sending bits of waterproof fabric, and shattered electronics in a cone shaped pattern down the street. Pulverati stood and wiped a gloved Palm across his mouth to clear away the remaining milk. He spat another vocal pulse, this time, wider towards the surprised hero.
In a flash, a shimmering white convex shape separated the two, shaped like the nose cone of a plane with the rounded tip pointing at Pulverati. The blast shook the cone, sending ripples along its surface, deflecting the force out to the sides.
Two Percent Power (Book 2): Spilled Milk Page 1