“Can you do it without the fake British accent?” Crystal asked.
He chuckled and nodded. “Fair enough.”
String fellow Archer took several long strides and spun, nocking an arrow and drawing in one smooth movement. He fired the missile, striking the heavy bag dead center.
“Seriously?” Bryson said.
“What? It’s not like that bag is getting any nicer.” He drew a second arrow and aimed to the left of the bag. The arrow took flight, and in an instant struck the bag within an inch of the first arrow, sticking out at a different angle.
“Did he just curve that arrow?” Nolan had his hands on his head, eyes wide in amazement.
“That’s why they call me Recurve.” He fired a third arrow, this time aiming to the right, only to have the carbon shaft projectile stick the bag near the other two.
“Alright, that’s pretty impressive,” Graham said. “So how far can you, uh, recurve the shots?”
Stringfellow addressed Nolan. “Hey kid, toss that water bottle up.”
Nolan looked over to Patrick asking for permission with his eyes. Patrick shrugged.
He tightened the cap and tossed the bottle high above the group.
In several movements, strung together in a flawless sequence of events, Recurve turned, drew and loosed an arrow, ending in a crouch. The arrow’s path traced a wide arc as it streamed up, only to fly past the plastic bottle, before burying itself into the center of the large flat screen TV hanging over the gym.
“Hey!” Bryson held his hands out to the sides, a look of pure frustration on his face.
Troy sat at the conference table with Patrick, Sean, and Manny. “Here’s the breakdown. Or at least what I think is going on based on what I found. Genevieve is using a mix of telepathic and telekinetic abilities. And from what I can gather, Stringfellow is doing something telekinetic as well, connecting with the arrows in flight.”
“How can you tell?” Manerpillar asked.
“Stringfellow’s ability is just a guess, but it’s beyond just imparting spin on a projectile.” Troy tapped some keys bring up a grainy video feed of Recurve firing an arrow down an alley at a fleeing suspect. He stepped through the video a frame at a time, pointing to the light colored blur. “Look at this. He fires to the left, but here the arrow curves to the right and back to the left again before it leaves the frame.” It was difficult to see the arrow in detail, but the double-curved flight path was apparent.
“Did he make that shot?” Manny asked.
Sean looked at him. “Does it matter?”
“Aren’t you curious?”
Sean paused for a second. “Did he make that shot?” he asked Troy.
“Based on his performance downstairs, I wouldn’t be surprised if he missed,” Patrick said. “How about Genevieve? What are you basing that theory off of?”
Troy pulled up the security camera footage showing her downstairs performance earlier. Instead of watching a circus acrobat tumbling around, and a juggler hurling knives, the video showed a petite young woman, dressed for a day in the park, moving around like a circus acrobat, whipping pulses of light at the heavy bag.
“What we saw down there was in our minds,” Troy said. But the effects are real.
“Wow.” Patrick rubbed his chin.
“So why the circus theme?” Manny asked.
“Genevieve grew up traveling with a circus,” Sean said. “But I can’t find much more information than that. Could be due to something traumatic.”
“Or it’s because that’s where she felt the most at home,” Patrick said.
“Can we trust Stringfellow and Genevieve?” Manny asked. He glanced at the others, trying to read their reactions.
“I think we can give them a shot,” Sean said.
“If you guys are ok letting them run with us, then so am I,” Patrick said.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Ok, let’s move on to what you found out about Armageddon.” Patrick reached for the stack of printed pages in the middle of the table.
Troy ran the group through his research, describing Warhead and Ground Zero’s World Wrestling Organization careers, and how they developed their abilities through their use of the experimental growth hormones. His notes covered the post-WWO vandalism spree and the formation of the Brotherhood of Armageddon.
“These two are going to be a handful,” Patrick said, echoing Sean’s earlier statement.
“Right?” Sean slapped the table with his gloved palms.
“Last night’s fiasco ended with the police rounding up dozens of those fanatics,” Troy said, glancing down at one of the printed sheets. “Not sure how long they’re going to be held in custody, though.”
“I think the bigger problem is that their numbers are always growing,” Manny said. “Armageddon is a voice of the disenfranchised, and they hear it loud and clear.”
ISSUE TWO
CHAPTER
13
“We need to play it smart. Get some info. Pull some of these guys off the street.” Crystal faced Patrick with her arms folded across her chest, as her tail swung side to side from the back of her head. “No more of that macho crap you let Boost pull last night.”
“You’re right. I thought we needed to take it slow and get a better idea of what we’re up against, but it spun out of control. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Your judgment has been clouded for at least a month now,” Crystal said. “I know you want to shoulder the burden because you think you’re responsible for us, but we knew the risks when we all agreed to this.”
“You’re right—”
“I know I’m right. I’m not asking you to confirm that. I’m asking you to trust us. You don’t want to be the leader. I know that, but you also don’t want that pressure on any of us.” She stooped her shoulders to drop her head lower to his level, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. “I’m not asking to take charge. I’m asking you to let the rest of us pull our weight out there. We’re not playing cops and robbers. This is real.”
Patrick took a shallow breath and opened his mouth, ready to repeat himself again. He closed his mouth, nodded and smiled.
Crystal smiled. “Good. Now let’s put our heads together and figure out how to stop the Brotherhood.” She pulled him into a quick embrace, patting his back, as he returned the gesture.
“The gang’s back together!” Boost stepped through the door. “The treacherous trio!”
“And keep your hound on a leash,” She said to Patrick. Crystal ruffled Boost’s hair and stepped around him to leave the office.
“You two all good now?” Boost asked
“I think so,” Patrick said.
“Good, because Broadband is putting together some impressive data showing where large groups of the Brotherhood of Armageddon is gathering. He thinks they’re recruiting.”
Patrick raised an eyebrow. “This could be the break we needed. Let’s drop by one of the locations and hear the sales pitch.”
Patrick and Boost headed back downstairs where the rest of the team gathered. The TV still had the arrow buried into the screen, so they were using a large whiteboard for planning. Faded marks showing Bryson’s previous workout numbers was wiped away, replaced by a poorly drawn map.
“This underpass here is one of the designated meeting spots,” Broadband said. “I think it’s our best bet. Two wide open areas to approach, and plenty of places to observe close by, in case someone needs back up.”
“Why is that important?” Boost asked. When the others looked in his direction, he felt the need to add on to his question. “In case Patrick is wondering. He missed the first part.”
Patrick said, “It’s because we don’t want to show up in force. We need to keep our back up out of view, but maintain a clear line of sight.”
“Oh. Well. I guess you know already,” Boost said.
“Of the four locations I’ve discovered, this is probably one of the smaller gatherings. It was added to
the list late last night.” Troy said.
“How are you getting this information?” Striker asked.
“Deep web,” Troy said. “Web content that’s not indexed by search engines. People use the deep web to host darknet sites, which is what the Brotherhood of Armageddon is using to organize and recruit.”
“Deep web? Darknet? Man, you kids these days.” Striker shook his head.
Troy continued. “We won’t know final numbers until we get someone in position, but based on the buzz, it’s looking like less than a dozen at this site. Not the best place to find some big time information on Armageddon or the organization as a whole, but there’s going to be at least one member that can get us one step closer.”
“Alright, I’ll take point and bring two or three of you with me,” Patrick said.
“Actually, I think you, Boost, and Manerpillar have been compromised,” Broadband said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Striker and Weed are also on a watch list since the cameras caught them in the news feed from city hall.”
Patrick dropped his head with a frustrated smile on his face.
“How about us?” Black Paralysis gestured towards himself and Speetah.
“I think everyone involved in last year’s brawl against Sight and the Visionaries is probably recognizable,” Broadband said.
“So it’s up to the new capes,” Abby said, pointing to Genevieve and Recurve with her thumb.
Patrick walked up to the newer heroes. “We’re not going to ask you guys to do something you’re not comfortable with, so this is your choice.”
“Yes. I mean yes I’m in. You can count on me.” Genevieve straightened her posture.
“That’s why I came here,” Recurve said. “Count me in, too.”
Black Paralysis looked at the grayscale printouts of drone footage screenshots showing the underpass, taped to the whiteboard. “I think we’ve also got some good spots for two, maybe three of us to be within striking distance.”
“With another group further back, but ready to provide support as a second wave,” Patrick added. “I think based on movement speeds, Boost and Manerpillar should be up close, with Abby and Speetah hanging back.”
“What about the rest of us?” Weed asked.
“The underpass is on the edge of the city,” Patrick said. “We shouldn’t send everyone there, so it’s better if the rest of us stay here, or at least somewhere closer to the center of the city, in case something else happens.”
“Sounds like a solid plan to me,” Striker said.
“Anyone have any concerns we should discuss?” Patrick looked the group over, letting his gaze linger on Speetah. The others all gave a silent affirmation of the plan with a series of satisfied facial expressions and nods.
“One more thing,” Broadband said. “They’re not recruiting supers, so you’ll have to go in as regular people looking to join the crew. Genevieve will be ready to rumble at a moments notice, but Recurve…”
“You won’t be able to bring your bow,” Patrick said. “Your gear will be close by with Boost and Manerpillar, but you’ll be unarmed until they reach you.”
“I never leave home without my quick wit,” Recurve said, smoothing his mustache with a thumb and forefinger. “Also, I may not have mentioned it before, but I’m pretty wiz with throwing weapons,” Recurve pulled a steel spike from a small pouch on his belt and drew his arm back.
Striker snagged the wrist of his throwing arm before he could throw the spike. “We’ll take your word for it.”
CHAPTER
14
“Drones are a no go,” Broadband said. “The freeway above is blocking the shot. We couldn’t strap the body cams on Recurve of Genevieve, so it’s up to you two to keep us in the loop.”
Boost put his binoculars back into his pocket and moved Recurve’s bow and quiver to readjust his position. “Roger, boss.”
“What’s that smell?” Manerpillar asked. “We’re downwind of the underpass, and, no joke, I can tell how many people are there just from the stench alone.”
“It’s a sophisticated aroma of beer and nacho cheese chips,” Boost said.
“And body odor,” Manerpillar added.
“That too.”
“How many fanatics are they facing?” Patrick asked.
“Six or seven, not counting ours,” Manerpillar answered. “Judging by their body language, they’re still waiting on the event organizers.
“Stay out of sight, guys. There are two more approaching from behind you.” Speetah said.
Manerpillar and Boost sank further into the shadows, glancing back. Two large men walked down the street talking to each other. Their voices were too low to hear the conversation, but the bandanas, leather wrist cuffs, and BoA shirts told them the meeting was about to get under way.
“Rocksteady and Bebop just showed up. What’s the plan again?” Boost asked.
“We sit tight until the fists start flying,” Manerpillar said. “Let’s let them pick up a few brochures and swag before we crash the party.”
On cue, Patrick came in over the radio again. “Remember, let Recurve and Genevieve listen to the pitch. If the group clears out and the Brotherhood organizers leave, Abby and Speetah will follow, and corner them. They’re the prize.”
“As soon as one of those goons twitches, or sneezes too loud, Manny and I are headed in,” Boost said.
After a pause Patrick replied. “Agreed. Keep them safe, Boost.”
Genevieve tucked her nose and mouth behind the collar of her shirt. The underpass reeked of garbage and spoiled food. Neglected and abandoned, this was the perfect spot for a meeting like this. She hoped breathing through her shirt would come off as more shy and nervous, but the watering eyes were a little tougher to mask. She wandered to the other end of the underpass, further away from Boost and Manerpillar, but the breeze blew in from that direction, pulling some of the smell away.
Recurve did his best to keep his distance from her. He didn’t want it to look like they knew each other, but at the same time, he didn’t want to leave Genevieve isolated. The fact that she could cover his back when the fighting started was also a plus.
Six others waited with them. There were eight earlier, but two lost their nerve and walked away. The remaining interested parties were all male, all young, or at least younger than Recurve, and all athletically inclined. Not the easiest crew to deal with, but not the worst odds I’ve faced. Recurve made a mental note of his threat assessments, stacking them up in order of who he would target first.
One of the men, number two on his hit list, looked down the street. The rest followed suit, watching two big muscular men headed in their direction. The first of the approaching men dressed like he no longer wanted to deal with the hassle of cotton scraps trying to hide the gun show. The sleeves of his Brotherhood of Armageddon shirt had been torn off, leaving a stringy mess where the stitching had been ripped apart. The dark brown skin of his muscular arms caught a glint of the streetlights, reflecting on the thin sheen of perspiration as he entered the underpass. His head was shaved clean, as smooth as the skin on his arms.
The second man stood a few inches shorter but packed on just as much lean mass as the first. His black hair was slicked back, and he wore his sunglasses. At night. He had black bandanas around one wrist, and a leather studded bracelet around the other wrist. His BoA shirt still had sleeves, but they traced the curves of his deltoids, cutting in just above his biceps.
“When the fists fly, don’t let the thousand pound club get away,” Boost said.
Recurve tugged at his ear, scratching an itch, or an annoying voice. He could see that Genevieve was looking around, hoping no one heard Boost’s radio chatter. He drifted his gaze to where he thought Manerpillar and Boost were hiding, and made a small swiping gesture with his fingertips across his throat, telling them to cut out the needless blabbing.
“Copy that. Radio silence,” Boost said.
Recurve closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath to mask
the frustration. He noticed that one of the original six prospects was chatting up his teammate.
Genevieve saw the man sidling up to her. He wasn’t much taller than she was, which made him shorter than average, but he made up for it with artificial swagger.
“It’s nice down here.” He flashed a cheesy grin.
“Once you get past the smell.” She didn’t bother turning her head, only tracking him with her eyes as she lowered the shirt from her nose and mouth.
“Yeah,” he maintained the smile and kept nodding his head long enough to formulate a profound and complex line to wow her. “So what’s a cutie like you doing here? You don’t look like the type that wants to get mixed up in all this real danger.”
Recurve made his way toward the conversation. Not to rescue her, more out of interest to how this was going to play out. He watched Genevieve drop her hands to her hips, face the man and stare almost visible beams of hate through his head. This is close enough. He stopped inching in their direction.
“Danger?” She stabbed the man’s sternum with her finger, emphasizing key words in her response. “These capes put my dad in a wheelchair. They’re out on the streets doing whatever they want, with no regard for us. We’re just ants to them.”
Wow, she’s good, Recurve thought.
“Well well well. It looks like we have a spirited one here.” The Brotherhood representative with the slicked back hair rubbed his hands together, looking at Genevieve with feigned admiration. Mock and awe.
She yanked her head back as he brushed a finger under her chin.
He crouched down, looking up at her. “Don’t worry, darlin’ we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.”
Recurve clenched his fists, waiting for Genevieve to make a move.
“Quit wasting our time, Romeo,” The man with the sleeveless BoA shirt said.
“Relax, I’m just having some fun.” He got back up and stood next to Genevieve, draping an arm across her shoulder. “C’mon, I got us a front row seat.”
Two Percent Power (Book 2): Spilled Milk Page 8