Two Percent Power: Delivering Justice

by Brian Manning

  “Hey, I’m not seeing anything out here,” he said to the others.

  “Yeah, it’s looking pretty barren now,” Patrick said. “I guess they’ve moved on.”

  “It’s getting cold out here, but I’m going to check to the end of the street before packing it up,” Boost said.

  He turned to look back at how far he had already walked. Someone was at the other end of the street. Ducking into an alley, he peered out with the binoculars.

  Two people. Both wearing sweatshirts and jeans. Not the military uniforms they were on the lookout for. These two could have been part of the larger group, but there wasn’t any activity near here in quite a while, so chances were this was just a couple of random people walking by.

  Boost continued to watch, making sure they weren’t up to anything. Their body language showed that they were both pretty cocky and fun at parties. Even from this distance, he could hear their loud, inconsiderate laughter. One of them took something out of his pocket and jammed it into a tire of one of the cars parked on the street. The other jumped onto the hood, dropping an elbow on the windshield. His pained yelp echoed down the street and was soon drowned out by his buddy’s cackling.

  “I got something here,” Boost whispered. “Two guys, vandalizing a car.”

  “Where are you?” Patrick asked.

  “Forty-second. I’m heading their way.”

  “Wait for us,” Patrick said.

  Boost didn’t acknowledge the last request. He tucked the binoculars into one of the roomy pockets of his jacket, but held onto the flashlight. It felt comforting, like a light saber, in his hand. The radio chatter faded to the background as he prepared for battle against these punks.

  He did his best to approach in the most menacing way possible. Right out in the middle of the street, walking with a clear purpose. At one point, he could have sworn one of them noticed, but still focused on their task of defacing private property. As he was within 10 yards, he saw the other one glance around the car to get a good look at him approaching. Just like last time, he went back to work, without a care in the world.

  This felt like a trap. Boost eyed the surrounding buildings and cars as he slowed his pace. Nothing stood out, but his gut was trying to warn him. Something about the scene was wrong.

  He stopped, and called out to the two man wrecking crew. “Are you two planning on paying for the damage?”

  They both whipped their heads in his direction, like this was the first time they took notice of his approach.

  “Let’s get out of here!” One of them said, just a bit too loud. Both them backed away several steps, and then turned to run.

  The whole scene was playing out wrong, but Boost still felt that he should stop them. He took a few small steps and then started running as fast as he could to keep up.

  “They’re...making...a break...for it,” he gasped to Patrick and Speetah. “Headed...west.”

  He wasn’t able to maintain the pace, almost losing sight of them. As soon as he stopped, he could see they slowed down. Are they stringing me along? He struggled to catch his breath so he could say something to the others, but it was too late.

  “Did you catch the direction, Speetah?” Patrick asked.

  “Got it, I’m halfway there now.”

  Speetah stood under a streetlight, stretching her legs out a little, after all the running she had just done. All the side streets, and alleys were clear. The air was cool and crisp, just like the evening runs she used to take when she was in school. The smell, and feel brought back memories from her teenage years. Before her abilities manifested.

  Her friends only knew her as Crystal. An average student, with average problems. Like all kids her age, she had a list of things she didn’t like about her appearance. Her legs and arms were too long, compared to her short torso. It didn’t help the she wasn’t a model of fitness. The layer of “fluff,” although no more than most carried, made her offset proportions only that much more noticeable.

  She tried out for the track team, in order to get some exercise, and maybe develop some good eating habits as part of the training. The coach was nice, and had always encouraged her. Running for short or long distances was difficult at first, but soon clicked, becoming enjoyable. It let her free her mind and ignore the little problems in life. She would take leisure runs in the evening, and keep it up as much as possible in the off season.

  Crystal’s body shed the extraneous padding and grew a little leaner. Though still somewhat disproportioned, it no longer bothered her. She had even more friends back then because of the team, and she was a lot more social. School, and home life, was a lot easier.

  Speetah’s mind switched channels, latching on to the week she had manifested her abilities. How she missed a few days of school, due to a nagging headache in the back of her head. How she also missed some training sessions, because of the deep, aching pain in her hips, knees, and thighs, like she had been pushing herself too hard running.

  Until one morning the headache was brutal, and her legs ached and cramped with every movement. Speetah wrapped her arms around her body as the memories of the pain ebbed in her mind. The pain had spread through her whole body by then. She could remember the fear of losing everything she had worked for then. As her body changed, she thought the bones in her legs would crack under the intense muscle cramps. The thought of being unable to run, or even walk, scared her as a teen.

  At one point, the pain had spread to the base of her skull, and became so unbearable, all she could do was lay in bed, clutching the back of her head and curl her body up into a ball. She remembered how it felt when her blood surged to her neck; how the sound was like dragging a bag of rocks across the pavement with each heartbeat. The pain was almost unbearable. Speetah was clenching her teeth now, just like Crystal did in her memories, remembering how she thought they were going to crack from the pressure in her jaw. It was the last moments of pain she remembered, before she had passed out in her bedroom.

  Her memories after that were far less detailed without the trauma and pain to latch onto. Most of all, it was the feeling of waking up in a powerful body that moved more like a well-oiled machine, than flesh and blood. The reflexes and balance were uncanny, and even though she had tipped the scales higher than before, she felt much lighter. Also, the hunger. She had an insatiable appetite from that day on.

  Speetah’s hand shot to her neck and grasped the appendage sprouting from the base of her skull. Her hand ran down the soft short fur as she pulled it forward across her shoulder. To the high school senior, Crystal, discovering her mutation was the end of the world. To the young woman, Speetah, discovering her abilities and pushing to find the limits was just the beginning. Only her parents and closest friends knew about the change, but over time she lost contact with her friends, and moved away from home.

  Her mother and father were saddened by her departure. They had almost as much difficulty dealing with her change, but her father went above and beyond to help her cope. It was difficult leaving her family, but trying to deal with her new abilities, with the reminders of what she walked away from in her old life was too painful.

  She skipped her graduation ceremony, but by then, she was in a different world, moving in different circles. Speetah was trying to outrun Crystal’s old life. It made the change a little easier to accept.

  She clutched the flatter, rudder-like tail to her chest, absently thumbing the fur, listening to Patrick and Boost droning on about aliases.

  “...How about Fluid, or Flow?”

  When Speetah heard Boost’s suggestion, it conjured up an image of an elderly woman, wearing oversized spectacles that came to a point on either end, with a fake gold chain dangling from the glasses, draped over a hand knit shawl.

  “Flo? Like someone’s grandma? Your names are so bad,” she said.

  Patrick’s laughter was so loud she plucked the earbud from her ear, letting it hang by her collar. She could still hear him. Once it died down, she nestled it back into
her ear and adjusted it, before heading to the next block. Using her speed and agility she was able to cover more ground than the others. Sipping from a hydration pack, she took another break, listening to Boost blather on about how cold it was.

  He spotted some questionable types on 42nd, and decided to confront them, without any help. Typical. Speetah listened, covering the earpiece with one hand, and using a finger to block the other ear. It was like listening to bad audio from a found footage movie. Boost called out to the thugs and she could hear their muffled response to run.

  Her eyes narrowed as she crouched, waiting to spring into action. It was difficult to follow Boost’s gasping reports. All she knew was a vague location and direction.

  “Did you catch the location, Speetah?” Patrick’s voice was fuzzy, and peppered with static. He was on the move, too.

  “Got it, I’m halfway there now.” A spray of dirt and pebbles bounced off a nearby mailbox as she took off.

  Speetah slowed down when she could see where Boost had stopped. Hands on his knees, panting in the middle of the street. He was facing an intersection that ran east and west. She cracked open the throttle and blew by Boost, hearing his startled shout fade in the distance. Speetah hit the corner and headed west, as her tail dragged through the air, pulling her body to counter balance it.

  Two teenagers were running down the street, wearing the outfits Boost had described. They were smiling and looking back, expecting to see a sad, out of shape man, wearing a homemade superhero outfit, trudging along. She stopped to get a good look at them, smiling. They deserved a bit of a head start. She was a predator playing with her food. Seeing their new pursuer, their eyes were saucers.

  As they turned to run, almost tripping over each other, Speetah saw a third man, exiting from between two buildings. He ran to join the other two, attempting to escape. This one was dressed in the military style garb from the break-in. It had been a while since they saw someone dressed like that. Seeing him come out of the alley triggered an alarm in her head. Something was wrong, Boost never mentioned a third person. This reeked of a setup, but she had to reach them before they made it to where they planned to ambush Boost.

  Dropping into sprinter’s start, she shouted into her mic. “I think it’s a setup!” Speetah took off after her quarry. The wind whistled in her ear drowning out Patrick’s reply.

  Each bounding step sliced chunks out of their head start. The newcomer was still straggling behind his friends. She slowed her stride, matching the man’s pace, shoulder to shoulder. He was digging in with every ounce of speed he could muster. For Speetah, this was still well below her pre-super speeds. As he glanced over at her, she shifted abruptly. She hit him with a vicious body check, driving him face first into the post of a yield sign.

  Speetah stopped a few meters ahead, enjoying the sight of the man lying on his side, hands over his face, and blood seeping from between his fingers. After soaking up the sight for a second, she turned and chased down the other two.

  Patrick heard Speetah’s warning, but still questioned what she said. “A setup? By who?” He tried several more times to get a response.

  The wind hitting her microphone sounded like a flag whipping in a high speed gust. She hadn’t muted her microphone when she took off, making it difficult for Patrick to reach her.

  He was on a rooftop at least four blocks from Boost’s last known position, but from what he could tell, they had headed west, with Speetah in pursuit. That meant it was only two blocks away, at most. He turned toward the edge of the roof, facing his intended direction. Without hesitation, he was running toward the gap between buildings.

  I really hope this works, he thought, pulling the hooks on his cuffs. Patrick had always used his power for fighting, and the occasional moment of laziness when he needed to reach something. He had never used his power for any kind of mobility. Would this trick work the way it did in his mind? Only one way to find out. Tally ho.

  His left foot planted hard on top of the short wall, marking the edge of the roof. He pushed off hard, kicking his other leg into the air, while firing a powerful blast of milk from both wrists. The jolt vibrated up both arms, and sent a shock of pain through his right elbow. His guts jumped into his mouth, as he watched the ground, so far below him, pass by. He realized he had more than enough momentum to carry him across to the other rooftop.

  He also realized that he had far too much altitude. His feet kicked, and his hands waved in circles. This is going to hurt. Patrick realized he was still trailing the two white tendrils from either hand, tracing his arms movement, like a gymnast’s ribbons. Before he hit, he pointed both hands down and did his best to form a curved ramp to absorb his impact.

  He hit the ramp hard. His tail bone cracked against the tarred surface of the roof, with only a thin layer of milk to cushion the impact. Most of his momentum was already redirected by the ramp, but it still hurt. He tumbled across the roof and skidded to a stop, hands pressed against his butt with firm pressure. He held in a scream, and a laugh. That would have been some great footage to put online.

  Jumping to his feet, he looked back to see the milk forming the ramp had already melted into a puddle seeping into all of the cracks and crevices of the roof’s surface. He didn’t have time to try and fish it all out. He would have to go with what he had left in his jacket’s pouches. Patrick started moving with a slight limp, and then started running again, ignoring the sharp pain in his rear, hoping nothing was broken.

  Traversing the remaining distance, Patrick was much more careful about how much oomph to put into each jump. Each spring assisted leap was capped with a cushioned landing. He used slides to drop levels, and whips to pull himself up to higher buildings. The freedom he felt was exhilarating. He had unlocked a new power. He felt a much stronger bond with his abilities. I just leveled up, he thought.

  Patrick could hear someone begging not to be hurt as he reached the edge of the rooftop and looked down. Across the street, in an empty parking lot, he could see Speetah standing over someone, while another person was kneeling not far from her, with his hands held up. His cries echoed down the empty streets. She stalked the man, and Patrick could hear her in his ear again.

  “Are you trying to set us up?” she said.

  “No...no, please, we’re not doin’ nuthin’.” The muffled voice came over the radio a split second before Patrick heard it again from below.

  “Get up, punk.” She grabbed him by two fistfuls of his sweatshirt and hoisted him up. She was taller, and stronger, so his feet dangled off the ground as the two stared face to face. Air hissed from her nose with each forced exhale. She wasn’t in the mood for games, and this poor kid was going to pay.

  Patrick looked along the side of the building and decided the fire escape seemed like the proper way to reach the ground level after all of this excitement. He hit the ground and jogged across the street.

  Boost wasn’t too far off, only a few seconds behind Patrick. He started walking, so the two of them could join Speetah together.

  As they approached, the man that Speetah held started laughing. Not nervous laughter. This was some evil mastermind, ‘I love it when an evil plan comes together’ type of laughter.

  She was right, this is a setup.

  Four spotlights, mounted high, fired a beam into the center of the parking lot. Loud mechanical clanks and pops accompanied each shaft of harsh light.

  “It’s a trap!” Boost yelled.

  Whooping and hollering came from all around. Dozens of young men and women came pouring out of the darkness. Some wore regular street clothes, but most wore the military style uniforms they had seen from the attempted jewelry store heist. Patrick and Boost moved to Speetah’s side. They were corralled in, blocked on all sides by brick and flesh.

  The dangling thug decided now was the best time to gloat. “Looks like you came to the wrong neigh—” The crown of Speetah’s head bashed the bridge of his nose, as she dumped him to the blacktop.

  A jagged
part split the crowd, as a tall woman approached. She wore a mirrored visor that wrapped in a semi-circle around the left half of her head, covering her left eye and ear. Her outfit also had a military style and matching color, but was much more unique in design. Her boots clacked with each slow careful stride.

  “I need your help to deliver a message to my boss,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but the stern.

  Patrick and Boost looked at each other. Speetah’s eyes remained fixed on the woman.

  “Don’t worry, you won’t need to memorize anything, or do any public speaking. We’ll just let your heads do the talking.”

  CHAPTER

  12

  Deadeye adjusted her gloves, looking at her hands while she spoke. “You three,” she paused while pressing her lips together, like she was distributing lip balm from one lip to the other. “You three have been quite troublesome.”

  The three heroes stood silent.

  “You run around, playing Superman, with towels tied around your necks, busting the bad guys.” She started walking around them, still looking down at her gloves. “You pretend that the world is so simple. That all it takes is a couple of goofballs wearing tights to keep us all safe.” She motioned to all of the Visionaries around them.

  “What if it is that simple?” Speetah spat.

  Even without her power, Deadeye’s glare could burn through metal. The blackish orb pulsed a faint purple as she glowered at the three of them. “I don’t think you have a full grasp the situation you find yourselves in.” Her tone was much colder.

  “Why don’t you help us grasp it?” Patrick found the courage to reply after Speetah spoke up. “I’m sure we’ll all find it enlightening.” Patrick was no longer looking around at the other people, only locking eyes with the woman.

  Seconds dripped by, stretching to hours in his mind. A smile spread across her face. A lopsided smile, starting on one side, and struggling to catch up on the other.