Two Percent Power (Book 2): Spilled Milk

by Brian Manning

  Boost held Patrick back with his arms around his waist. “It’s too dangerous. We can’t run in like that.”

  As if on cue, the police opened up with their rifles and pistols. Still the bullets were ineffective. They either bounced off of the former tag team champions or pierced H2Grow’s bulk, before losing all energy and dropping to the ground.

  Patrick turned to boost, almost pleading. “We have to stop the shooting. There are still hostages in the bank.”

  He thought for a moment and released his grip. Patrick turned and ran to the battle, followed by Manerpillar and Boost.

  H2Grow and Armageddon continued trading blows. Each hammering strike the mighty hero took, hurled out a huge mist. He was losing his mass faster than he could replenish it with the rain water. Even when his fist found its mark, the muscular brutes never showed any sign of damage or pain. They only smiled and fired back.

  Patrick put up a wall of milk in front of the two closest officers. It was too thin to stop the 9mm bullets their sub-machine guns fired, but it forced them to stop and look for the source of the obstruction. Manerpillar followed suit and whipped up a silk net between the STF armored vehicles. The staccato crackling stopped as the police trained their weapons on the approaching capes.

  “Hold on, don’t shoot,” Patrick said, holding his hands up in surrender.

  Manerpillar and Boost did the same.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” The lead officer shouted, recognizing Patrick.

  “There are still hostages in the bank,” Patrick said, “If they attempt to flee, one of your guys could accidentally shoot them.”

  They continued arguing back and forth with several officers, and the lead STF agent when an arrow flew by overhead.

  Everyone turned their heads as Recurve slid along the hood of one of the police cars, drawing another arrow and firing it at Ground Zero.

  “Stop, you’re gonna get killed,” Boost yelled.

  Seconds later, Weed swung by, landing just past Patrick and the others.

  He could see now that Nolan couldn’t take any more punishment. He was almost down to his regular scrawny form, sitting on the asphalt. The rain had slowed to a trickle during the argument, and his extended battle with Armageddon depleted his water weight.

  Warhead raised a hand, ready to club the exhausted hero with a hammer fist strike. Dozens of tiny tendrils wound up his forearm. He looked down to see the tall Brazilian woman lashed to him. He smiled and yanked her forward. She released her grip and rolled over one shoulder. Weed extended both arms out to her sides, sending one of her bandages snaking around Nolan’s shoulders, and the other around the axle of the APC on its side. She pulled Nolan to safety. Warhead moved to pursue when an arrow hit him an inch below his ear. He held a hand to his neck and snapped his gaze down to Recurve.

  “You’re gonna pay for that. The brute stepped forward, missing an attempted bearhug as Recurve darted to the side. But Ground Zero stood by waiting for his moment to strike. He spun Recurve around and grabbed him by the neck, lifting the hero up. Recurve used both hands on the beefy paw, to support his bodyweight. Ground Zero bent to pick up the bow laying in the street. He saw Patrick and Boost approaching and hurled his victim in their path while he snapped Recurve’s weapon in his fist.

  Mayhem erupted as dozens of screaming innocent people poured out of the bank’s front entrance.

  “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!”

  The police lowered their weapons and helped get the escaping people clear of danger.

  Patrick helped Recurve back to his feet and looked around for Armageddon. Not seeing them anywhere, he ran to the bank.

  Three armored STF agents blocked his path, pointing their weapons at his chest, all screaming for him to get down. Patrick put his hands behind his head, as they forced him to turn around and get on his knees. He could see that officers were detaining Weed, Recurve, Manerpillar, and Boost as well.

  Armageddon had escaped. Again.

  CHAPTER

  23

  Patrick leaned back sitting in the huge dent in the patrol car’s rear fender. His hands were cuffed behind him while a nearby officer restrained Boost. He chuckled, thinking about the futility of using those handcuffs.

  “So what are you in for?” Boost leaned against the car door next to Patrick.

  “Loitering. And probably obstruction of justice.”

  EMTs arrived, tending to the injured police officers. One of the technicians pulled a blanket around Nolan’s shoulders while she continued asking him questions. The scrawny hero sat slumped on the curb with the oxygen mask around his nose and mouth, offering up muffled responses.

  “With all that gunfire, I’m kind of surprised no one was killed,” Boost said.

  Patrick nodded. “Too many people got hurt today. I think we may have blown it.”

  “What, you mean by hanging back and letting the cops do the work? Aren’t they the best equipped to deal with something on this scale?”

  Patrick let the questions hang. He saw Crystal and Sean arguing with a group of STF agents. It looked like two of the police officers were helping argue their case. Crystal shouted, getting close and looking down at the agent in charge, as Sean pulled her back. Several beats later, it was Sean stepping up and Crystal easing him back. By the time their voices were almost loud enough to hear the conversation more officers were involved, and the conversation devolved into a lot of yelling and finger pointing.

  And then they all backed away. Hands held up in surrender while the STF agents continued their rants while walking back to the only armored vehicle still upright. One of the police officers escorted Crystal and Sean over. She removed the handcuffs restraining Weed and Manerpillar.

  She walked up to Patrick, freeing him from his bonds. “I’m Officer Rojas.”

  “Thanks, Officer Rojas. I’m Patrick.” They shook hands.

  “And I’m Boost.” Graham offered his hand as well. One cuff still clung to his wrist while the other was bent and torn open, dangling by the heavy-duty hinge.

  She inserted the key, removing the other half. “Well, Boost, you’re going to have to pay for that, you know?”

  Crystal Helped Nolan into Manny’s van before getting in behind him. Rojas and her partner stayed behind talking to Patrick and Graham.

  “We’ll make sure he gets home safe,” Sean said, walking towards them.

  “Eighteen police officers and at least a dozen civilians were seriously injured today.” The woman looked up at Patrick, under the brim of her hat.

  “And ten others with lesser injuries?”

  “Nine officers, but pretty much everyone inside the bank is being checked out. We were very fortunate that no one was killed here today. I have to know, did you withhold information that could have prevented this?”

  Patrick wiped a hand across his brow.

  “Look, Those agents wanted you all to go down for this. I know you were just trying to help, but if they find out you’re hiding something, heads are going to roll, Patrick. Mine included.” Officer Rojas turned to leave signaling to her partner.

  “Wait,” Patrick said.

  She faced him but didn’t walk back.

  “We found out about the XGH several days ago. That’s what Armageddon was referring to in their last broadcast.”

  Rojas’ mouth was a tight line as she sighed, shaking her head. “That information could have helped the task force better prepare for this. As far as I’m concerned, that’s strike two.” She turned on her heel and stormed off.

  “What was strike one?” Graham asked.

  Patrick watched the officers leave, then closed his eyes and let his head hang.

  Nathan Bell looked at the pock-marked flesh on his left arm and shoulder. The bullets tore small chunks out of his flesh, but they had begun healing over hours after the bank heist. The pain still lingered, but the damage was negligible. He thumbed one of the bullet wounds and looked over at Ground Zero.

  “We could ha
ve gotten away clean,” he said.

  “What fun would that be?” Ground Zero chuckled and pitched the empty beer can into the far corner of the warehouse with a casual toss.

  “I thought this was about hitting the rich where they hurt the most.” Nathan was careful to keep his tone even. “We didn’t need to hurt anyone to do that.”

  “They opened fire on us, old man. That’s on them.”

  “I guess they didn’t think throwing a car at them was just a warning.”

  Ground Zero cut the distance between them. “Whose side are you on, Battlelord?” He stressed the name.

  Nathan put his hands out to the side, palms up. “I don’t like the idea of people getting hurt because of something I did.”

  Warhead stepped out of the small office and joined the conversation. “So you’re cool with taking this cash from someone else, as long as it’s not blood money?”

  Nathan backed away. He liked having the money. He liked being relevant in the eyes of his fans again, even though they were also criminals.

  “I got family that served in law enforcement. My pop wore a badge.”

  “Was he out there today?” Warhead asked. “I didn’t think so.”

  “Don’t forget why you’re standing here today. Why you’re even able to stand today,” Ground Zero said. He pressed the XGH inhaler hard into Nathan’s chest as he walked past.

  He fumbled to catch the small plastic device.

  Warhead put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let this eat you up inside, brother. Just pocket the cash, and take care of business.”

  He walked away, leaving Nathan to stare down at the disc in his hand. His knees and hips ached, a ghost pain that was more memory than a physical presence. He brought the mouthpiece to his lips and sucked in the bitter metallic mist, and gritted his teeth as the numbness washed over him.

  Patrick read the text message Manny sent. The rest of the team members were at Bryson’s gym, the team headquarters. He turned his phone off and tossed it across his bedroom onto the unmade bed. They wanted to discuss the plans for dealing with Armageddon. He didn’t have the answers they were looking for, hoping they would be able to come up with something without him present.

  Close to fifty people injured. I could have done more to prevent it. He stood in his bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, leaning on the sink and looking into the mirror. He stared at the vague reflection behind the fogged glass. The urge to punch and crack the mirror like a cliched action movie star made him chuckle and brought some semblance of a smile to his face.

  He finished his evening ritual and put on a pair of basketball shorts, his preferred sleep attire since junior high. Patrick watched the lights from passing cars trace lines across his ceiling. Seeing Nolan helpless and Warhead about to deliver a possible killing blow kept replaying in his mind. Different outcomes each time. His mind showing any number of terrible scenarios. None of them came to be, but that still did little to soothe him. He fell asleep as his memories were twisted and warped, projecting scenes of brutality assuring a fitful, restless night of sleep.

  CHAPTER

  24

  Crystal’s heavy footfalls shook the window of the office as she climbed the stairs. The team decided to get some sleep and meet again in the morning when no one could reach Patrick the previous night.

  “I thought she was nimble on her feet,” Stringfellow said.

  Sean shook his head and gave him a look that said “not now” just as she walked through the door.

  “Call him again,” she said to Graham.

  “Good morning to you too.” He leaned forward, grabbed his phone and selected the top entry in his previous calls list. “Still going right to voicemail. Should we be worried?”

  “No, but he should be.” Crystal’s eyes were slits as she spoke through clenched teeth.

  “You don’t think someone found out where he lived and—”

  “No I don’t,” Crystal said, cutting Sean off. She was scrolling through her contacts list. “He’s ducking us. He probably ran off to mope under a bridge somewhere.” She put the phone up to her ear.

  Abby and Troy came in through the main entrance.

  “You guys upstairs?” Abby called out.

  Sean peered out the door and gave them the signal to join them as Crystal put a hand over one ear to talk to someone on the other end of her call.

  Troy walked in first, followed by his sister. “The police took a major hit yesterday.”

  “Yeah, we were there, genius,” Stringfellow said, rubbing his still sore neck.

  Troy’s mind took a split-second to decide if it was worth responding but decided just to move on instead. “No, they lost most of their Supers Task Force arsenal. About twenty police and STF agents were seriously injured.” He slipped his backpack off his shoulder, setting it in the corner.

  “Like Stringfellow said…” Graham let the sentence linger.

  “A lot of police officers walked out,” Troy said, unveiling the big reveal.

  “What’s a lot?” Sean asked.

  “And what do you mean walked out?” Graham asked.

  “If you count the injured as part of the numbers they lost, they’re operating at just above half their typical numbers. The police feel they aren’t properly prepared and trained to deal with masks at that power level. And the STF feel they’re under equipped and outmanned.”

  “Join the club,” Stringfellow said.

  Crystal walked back to the table. “Manny says Patrick isn’t at his apartment. There are no signs of forced entry or a struggle.” She added before Graham could speak up.

  “Manny’s van is here. How did he get to Patrick’s place?” Abby asked.

  “Bryson drove,” Graham said. “He took Genevieve too. Can’t be too safe.”

  “How about Nolan? How is he doing?” Troy asked.

  “Juliana is staying with him for now.” Crystal’s elbows were on the table with her forehead resting in her hands.

  Sean stood up. “We can’t wait for Patrick to snap out of his funk. Let’s discuss what we should be focusing on for now.”

  Crystal looked up. “Let’s put Broadband to work. We need a lot more information. And we need to share it with the police. Does anyone know who Patrick’s contacts are?”

  “I do,” Graham said. “I’ll make sure they get everything they need.”

  “What about the rest of us?” Abby asked.

  “We get back out there. The Brotherhood of Armageddon just got a major morale boost, so we need to contain the damage. We can’t hide in our holes. But it has to be smart. Organized. No more going off half-cocked.” Crystal looked Stringfellow in the eye as she spoke.

  “Get your affairs in order then meet here when you tie up loose ends,” Crystal said. “We head back out at sundown.”

  “Transform and roll out.” Boost got to his feet and walked out the door.

  Broadband spoke in hushed tones, making it hard for Patrick to hear what he said. “They’re not far from that block. These BoA guys have been stepping it up like they know the police are thinned out.”

  “How many do you see?”

  “From this distance, it looks like four or five. I don’t want to get too close. They took another drone down last night.”

  Two drones down. The Brotherhood of Armageddon had been watching the team’s activities far too long. They were able to blind Broadband in two of the most crime-heavy sections of the city. Patrick was following his tip about a group of fanatics that broke into liquor store nearby.

  He hoped Troy would keep the sharing of information from the others. This was something he needed. A way of releasing his frustration without putting his friends at risk, and maybe help improve the situation.

  Patrick could hear the rowdy bunch before he could see them. Three distinct voices, one with a loud cackling laugh. He opted for the direct approach, not wanting to waste time skulking behind parked cars. Patrick double checked the actuation of the release tab
s on his gloves and approached.

  There were five Brotherhood fanatics in plain sight. He gave a casual glance looking for any hidden members, or potential spotters, but remained satisfied with his initial count. One of the smaller members, a thin young woman, spotted Patrick as he crossed the street in their direction. She tugged the sleeve of the nearest person, warning them with her mousey voice. Patrick didn’t like to count people out right away, but her mannerism showed him that she was lowest on the threat list.

  All five BoA followers turned to face him now. A musclebound brute in a tank top pushed his way through to face him.

  XGH, Patrick noted. Even through the thick tufts of body hair, the man’s musculature was evident beneath his ruddy skin. Two more joined his flank. One was taller than the others, with the bulging shoulders and legs of a sprinter under his reddish brown sepia skin. And then there was the cackler. When Patrick heard the high pitched chirping laughter, he pictured a scarecrow with red hair. Instead, a plump rosy-cheeked fellow, with wisps of thinning sandy blonde hair, filled out the black Brotherhood shirt.

  The three of them had stepped up, but Patrick noted that the two in back, the mousey girl and one other, an average-looking man with a thin build hung back. He comforted the smaller girl. Patrick stopped his advance in the middle of the street. The scene looked wrong. He wasn’t walking into trap, but there was something about the mousey girl that put him on edge. The only reason she would be here is if she was a super. She’ll probably have to be bumped up on the threat list.

  Patrick fixed his focus on the XGH enhanced lead man, but soon looked over at the cackler. “Are you wearing jean shorts?”

  The other two looked over to get a look at his choice of clothing. I can’t believe that worked, Patrick thought as he shuffled sideways towards the man with the sprinter’s build and chambered his leg for a kick. Patrick’s foot struck the man in the ribs, just below his right arm.

  The musclebound man reacted quicker than Patrick would have liked, firing off a straight left hand. He was able to duck under the man’s attack and use the momentum to drive an uppercut into the thick abdomen. Patrick wasted no time and followed up with another punch. His gloved fist struck the man’s jaw underneath his cheekbone. Not accurate enough to put him to sleep, but it had enough force to knock the big man back.