Two Percent Power: Delivering Justice

by Brian Manning

  Deadeye slid her visor halfway across, before snapping it back to her right, checking to make sure it rode smooth and true on its track. She once again had the authority to pursue their adversaries. Although she didn’t always agree with Sight’s methods, she had great respect for his patience. His ability to play the long game, looking much further down field than the others. This time she drew her talent from the proven Visionaries. Those who have seen battle, and put time on the streets. She would not treat them as fodder, like last time. She would rely on their skills and experience. The rest would be filled out with lower and middle soldiers that knew enough to follow the lead of the others.

  In previous encounters, Deadeye let her anger and animosity towards self-appointed superheroes control her actions. This time, she would learn from Sight, and look at the big picture. She would be watching her prey, and gathering information. For the past couple of days there had been no visible activity; her quarry hid from sight. The cowards are tucked into their cubby holes, licking their wounds, but she knew they would have to come up for air sometime.

  A month earlier, the lack of activity would put her on edge, but now she had faith in the plan. Watch and wait. With the other super goons working with her, Deadeye had all the muscle she needed when it was time to launch the attack. Still, she could have used more brains and less brawn.

  The Jack Hammer was new to the game, but his super ability had potential, and he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. The Fear Mongrel was loyal and powerful, but he was impulsive, and had to be kept on a tight leash. Kill-O-What was brash, arrogant, and questioned every command. If she didn’t feel they needed his powers, she would have put him in the hospital or the morgue herself by now. Hair Devil was cocky, but controllable. He knew where to draw the line.

  “Watch team one-four reporting in. All clear.” The voice crackled into her earpiece. One after another, each of the teams called in their reports as well. Still no activity.

  “Do we really gotta just sit here and wait for the go ahead to jump in and ruin these super chumps’ day?” Kill-O-What asked over the comm.

  “Who are we looking for? I don’t think I ever got a list of the supers we should be hunting,” The Jack Hammer said.

  “I heard Black Paralysis is back on the streets, and he’s teaming up with those guys,” Hair Devil said.

  “It’s not the original Black Paralysis. It’s his son,” The Fear Mongrel said.

  “Did he even have powers?” Jack asked. “Black Paralysis was the dude that broke people's backs, right? The original one, I mean.”

  “He didn't break their backs. His power was to send some type of signal that would disrupt his victim’s nervous system. If he could strike them in the spine hard enough, the effect spread through all of their limbs. It’s the same power he passed on to his son,” The Fear Mongrel said.

  “What about that one guy, Arachno-Fabio? Black Paralysis broke that guy's back, right?” Jack Hammer said

  “That handsome devil,” Hair Devil added.

  “No, he just –”

  “Yeah I'm sure he broke it. I read it somewhere,” The Jack Hammer said

  “No, that guy can still walk.”

  “Yeah, his back was broken. He was doing physical therapy for, like, two years,” Hair Devil said.

  “That was from a car accident! He didn't break anyone's back!” The Fear Mongrel yelled.

  “Alright, dude, chill. Nothing to break our backs over,” The Jack Hammer muttered.

  “Shut your mouths and focus.” Deadeye’s voice was stern, yet even and low. She was growing tired of their constant immature banter.

  After a few seconds of silence, Kill-O-What was spoke up. “Uh, yes ma’am. Kill-O-What, out.”

  Sight called a crucial meeting next week, and the lack of vigilante activity made Deadeye anxious. If the heroes were planning something she had to be able to find out, before the important attendees were put at risk. They needed to be out here hunting. Poking through every pile of trash, looking for the rats, so they could exterminate the problem once and for all. She clenched her jaw and cracked the knuckles in her hands. Slow and patient was the plan. A methodical approach that didn’t expose her teams.

  Big picture, she reminded herself. After a full deep breath, she let it out slow let the stress melt from her neck and jaw.

  ISSUE THREE

  CHAPTER

  20

  “You’ve got four drones up now,” Broadband said over his shoulder. He rolled his chair over to the monitors where Trevor sat. “See that red box?”

  “Yeah,” Trevor said.

  “That’s the pattern your drones are programmed to keep. It’s their formation. This is the control stick for them.” Broadband handed a dual stick game console controller to Trevor.

  “So, what does the stick on the right do?”

  “The default is controlling the rotation and altitude, but since they’re slaved together, it’s all controlled by that bad boy,” he pointed to his beast of a computer. “We’re keeping them all around the same altitude, based on the height of buildings in the zones they’re flying in.”

  “Sweet.” Trevor thumbed the right stick back and forth. “So, what’s my name, then?”

  “Trevor,” Patrick replied. He followed Manerpillar and Beat Boxer into the makeshift conference room.

  “Ha ha, funny man. I mean what’s my superhero name?”

  “Why do you need one?” Speetah asked.

  “Because I don’t want my name all over the communications when you’re out there.”

  “None of us have a problem with that,” she said.

  “No, but it couldn’t hurt to give him an alias,” Patrick said.

  “How about Eagle, or Hawkeye?” Trevor asked.

  “How about nosey,” Speetah thumbed her nose at him.

  “Not cool cat lady. My nose is somewhat normal size.”

  “I kind of like Big Brother,” Broadband said.

  “Yes, I like that!” Trevor stood and pointed at him with enthusiasm.

  “Alright, Big Brother it is. Now, let’s get to the real matter at hand,” Patrick said.

  Broadband cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. So we’ve got four more drones all on Big Brother’s leash,” he made sure to use Trevor’s new call sign. “He’s covering this area here.” He pointed to the southern part of the city map.

  “That makes twelve drones. That gives us better surveillance on the activities. Which will help us lay low,” Patrick said.

  “Those drones won’t stay up all night.” Black Paralysis walked into the room to join the others. “We’re going to need to swap the battery packs out, right?”

  “For the four new ones, yes,” Broadband said. He pointed to two more red squares on his screen, “But these here, Trevor and I set up some docking stations on rooftops, tied into the building’s power. When they’re low on juice, I send the signal, and they find their respective stations, and plug in to power up.”

  “Man, that’s high tech,” Boost was standing behind Black Paralysis. “How do they stick the landing?”

  “They don’t. Once they get close enough, magnets pull them home to plug them in. It takes a bit more pepper to unplug when they take off, but they’re still drawing from the grid while they do that.” Broadband was proud of the setup.

  “When did you have the time to build all of that?” Beat Boxer asked.

  “I didn’t build it. I just came up with the idea, and Manerpillar’s guy put them together. That dude is a regular Macguyver.”

  “Who-guyver?”

  “Who’s paying him for all of this stuff?” Patrick asked, ignoring Abby’s question.

  “He’s a dot com millionaire,” Manerpillar said. “Made some kind of website that sold all kinds of mil-spec gear, and sporting goods to superheroes. He sold it before the bubble burst.”

  “Wow.” Broadband looked over at his now outdated computer rig.

  “He also dove into the mobile application market in the
early days. He made an app called Big Footage,” Manerpillar said.

  “The Sasquatch hunting app?” Trevor asked, more excited than anyone should be about a Sasquatch hunting app.

  The others all looked at him, not knowing how to react.

  “We were really into Bigfoot back in the day,” Patrick said. “We…bought the app for our phones before realizing that it just superimposed blurry footage of Sasquatch into your camera feed.” The embarrassment increased when he heard it said out loud. The silence stretched on far too long for his liking.

  “You’re not the only ones,” Mannerpillar said. “I think he made more off of that app, and its cryptozoology spinoffs than he did with his original website.”

  “Anyways,” Speetah said, “back to the drones. Doesn’t this all feel a little invasive to you guys?”

  “We’ve had them in the air for a while now,” Patrick said.

  “Yeah, I think they’ve saved our skins more times than we can count,” Black Paralysis added.

  “Not to mention the innocent people that were in trouble as well,” Manerpillar said.

  “I get that. At first I guess I never had a problem, but this,” She waved a hand across the multiple computers and monitors lined up, “this just feels awfully…Big Brother.” She looked at Trevor.

  When no one spoke up, she continued. “Watching our backs is one thing, but we’re just hiding down here staring at monitors until something jumps off.”

  “We can’t risk being out on the streets right now,” Patrick said.

  “Why not?” Beat Boxer asked. “Because the bad guys will see us?”

  “Yeah, isn’t that the point?” Speetah said. “Aren’t we out there to stop them from terrorizing this city?”

  More silence.

  “Is this just a costume party to the rest of you guys? I’m out here to make a difference.” She was pacing the room as she spoke.

  “I’m with Crystal on this,” Beat Boxer said.

  “If those eyes are hovering over everyone, then I’m going to be out there, too. Floating them just to hide in safety while watching everyone else out in the open just doesn’t feel right. We’re ignoring the people that we want to help, spying on them from a safe distance until something grabs our attention. We’re using the people as bait, and you all know as well as I do, that’s wrong.”

  “You’re right.” Patrick’s voice was soft. “We can’t lurk in the shadows and hope to help anyone. We do need to be out there.”

  “We can still do that, and be smart about it,” Manerpillar said. “We can be out there, but not waving a flag to call our enemies to us.”

  “Yeah, use our mobility to keep watch over the, uh, slower members,” Beat Boxer averted her gaze from Manerpillar.

  “Do I still get to play with this?” Trevor was holding the controller up.

  “Yes, no need to ground the drones if we’re all going to be out there again,” Patrick said. “Better safe than sorry. I’m guessing you don’t have a problem with that?” he asked Speetah.

  “No, I can live with that. As long as we’re not above being on the ground as well.”

  “Anyone else have any concerns about getting back out there?” he asked.

  When no one spoke up. “Good. Let’s figure out our zones again.”

  “Hey, where’s Man-vil?” Beat Boxer asked.

  “Said he had a thing,” Patrick answered.

  The two of them sat in the now empty warehouse. Broadband had packed up his mobile spy base of operations, relocating to somewhere he felt more secure staring at monitors for hours. They had all decided the warehouse was no longer the safest place to call their headquarters. With the Visionaries out on the prowl, chances are, they would be looking for somewhere the heroes would be meeting and regrouping every night.

  “You sure about hitting the streets again?” Beat Boxer asked.

  “Yes, I think Crystal is right. How about you?” Patrick said.

  “Oh, I’m fine with it. In fact I was relieved when Crystal said it. I just wanted to make sure everyone felt the same way.”

  Patrick looked down at his feet, as they swung just above the concrete. “Sometimes I wonder if we’re causing more harm than good.”

  Abby shrugged her shoulders. “Tough to say. I mean, who else is out here helping clean this place up?”

  “But with Sight and his hit squads out there, I think more people will be caught in the crossfire. People that have a hard enough time getting through the day, without some brawl erupting on their doorsteps.”

  “If we just sat back and used our powers for pro wrestling careers, that doctor and his family would be locked up in some room by a megalomaniacal nut job, bent on taking over the city. With great power…” She hopped off of the railing, and kicked a few pebbles across the floor. “I’d say that’s a pretty important notch for our belts.”

  “We didn’t stop the kidnappers, though.” Patrick said.

  “Look, we may have had to run away, but that family escaped with us. Besides, we know just a little bit more about that dog guy and the buzz kill.”

  “Buzzkill. That’s a pretty good name for him,” Patrick looked up and smiled.

  “Boost isn’t the only one that can toss snappy nicknames at his opponents,” Beat Boxer said. “Next time we cross paths with No-Longer-Teen Wolf, and his electrifying partner, we’ll come out on top.”

  Patrick nodded his head. He knew it was mostly bravado, but sometimes that’s all you need to turn things around. Getting back into the fight was dangerous, knowing what they were now up against, but knowing that innocent people were in danger helped solidify the decision. We’ve got to get back out there and clean up our mess, he thought.

  “I’m going to make a quick check around the block.” Beat Boxer said. “You want to join me and get some fresh air while we hunt?”

  “No, it’s pretty late. I’ve got to head home. I’ll be sure to take the rooftops and keep my eyes open as well. No point in wasting a good clear evening.” Patrick said.

  “Cool. See you later, Milk.” She held her fist up to him.

  “Stay safe out there, Abby.” He responded by tapping her fist with his.

  She put the dangling earbud back into her ear, and snapped her hood up over her head, and walked toward the exit.

  “Fist bumps, really?” He called out.

  She answered with a middle finger over her right shoulder.

  “Maybe next time, we can do the explosion at the end.”

  She answered with both middle fingers.

  “He’s right there! He’s right there!” Boost was frantic as he pointed to a man running down the sidewalk. The runner held a knife in one hand and a purse in the other. Manerpillar was doing his best to keep up, but he struggled with his short legs.

  The mugger’s victim, an older woman, lay against the wall, unable to catch her breath. She was mortified at the sight of a much larger man holding a knife and demanding her purse. When she didn’t hand it over right away, the mugger snatched it from her grasp, and pushed her back with his forearm.

  Boost stayed with the woman, making sure she was alright, but that meant the assailant was escaping. By the time Manny arrived, the man was already out of range for his silk, and he just didn’t have the speed to catch up. Speetah would have run him down by now, Boost thought.

  “He’s getting away. Do we have eyes on him at least?”

  “Hold your horses, brother,” Man-vil answered over the radio.

  “Where are you?” Boost asked.

  “I’m right…”

  Manny and Graham watched as the low hanging branch that was Man-vil’s arm shot out and hooked the runner high across his face.

  “…here.”

  The blow wasn’t thrown with much force, but the momentum of the mugger running, flipped him head over heels. He hit the ground, just as hard as he hit the arm in his path. Man-vil stepped around the corner and approached with his hammer slung over his shoulder. The man got back to his
feet and stood as firm as a child learning to roller skate. Holding the knife up, the desperate mugger moved in for the kill. Stumbling more than stepping, he thrust the blade forward, finding solid iron underneath fabric, instead of the flesh that was there a split second before. The blade fell from his hand, just as the massive statue turned to flesh and looked down at his stomach.

  “Whew, that was a little too close for comfort,” Man-vil said, brushing a hand over the small hole in his shirt.

  With the number of supers running around, chances are most people have seen one up close and personal. Sometimes it’s still a lot to process, and judging by the mugger’s hanging jaw and wide eyes, Man-vil could tell this guy wasn’t parsing the data all that well. Without lifting the hammer from his shoulder, he cuffed the purse snatcher across the head with the back of his free hand, sending the criminal down for the count.

  “Thanks,” Manerpillar said, arriving just as Man-vil turned.

  “I should have saved some for you, Manny.” He poked the head of the hammer into the soft ‘flesh’ of Manerpillar’s stomach. “Might not be a bad idea to put some extra work in. You could stand to lose a few.” His hearty laughter rang through the streets, as Manny turned back, shaking his head in disgust. “What? Am I wrong?” Man-vil asked.

  “Right or wrong, you’re still obnoxious.” Speetah was the first to speak up over the radio.

  “You’re not exactly a chiseled marble statue yourself,” Black Paralysis added.

  “I’ll gladly settle for iron statue,” Man-vil said. “Besides, I may enjoy tossing back a few brews in my down time, but at least I don’t jiggle when I’m chasing the bad guys.”

  “Guys, can we cut the infighting?” Patrick asked, hoping to calm things down. Man-vil’s thick throaty laughter still filled the channel. “We’re not supposed be standing around drawing all that attention.”

  “Relax, boss man.” The last two words were saturated in sarcasm. “Hey, I’m sorry, Manny,” He called out to Manerpillar. “I was just having some fun.”