Two Percent Power: Delivering Justice

by Brian Manning

  Manny was already back with Boost, helping the woman back to her feet. “Is there anyone we can call for you?”

  Man-vil huffed. “You two can handle the cleanup. I’m gonna go get my hands dirty again.”

  “Wait for the others,” Patrick said.

  “No worries, we’ve got eyes on him,” Trevor said. “Big Brother sees all.”

  “So, no one else finds that super creepy?” Speetah asked.

  “Hey, I’ve got movement in the shadows across the street from Graham and Manny,” Broadband said.

  Boost stood up and looked over, just in time to see someone duck into the alley.

  “I think he was filming us,” Boost said.

  “It’s about time I get to be an Internet star,” Manerpillar said.

  “No, I mean, he looked like a Visionary, spying on us.”

  “Speetah, can you intercept him?” Patrick asked.

  “On my way now.”

  “Sean, he’s headed your way,” Broadband said. “He’s looking behind him to see if anyone is following, I think you can—”

  “I see him,” Black Paralysis said.

  He crouched low, hiding behind a parked car, watching the runner approach. When the spy was too close to change directions, Sean stepped out. “Evening, young man.” He tipped an invisible hat in greeting.

  The Visionary, young and small for his age, scrambled to changed directions, but lost his footing. He tucked something into his pocket and tried to get back up to his feet.

  Black Paralysis whipped a lazy kick, catching him in the calf, shutting off the communication to the nerves in the lower half of the young man’s leg. “Hey, don’t leave so soon. Party’s just starting.”

  Speetah approached within seconds, covering the last few yards in a casual jog. Her breathing was light, like someone just starting their morning run, not someone who just covered a mile in under a minute on foot. “This the guy?”

  “Please, don’t hurt me. I was just paid to watch you guys and film it. I don’t even know who it’s for.” The Visionary pleaded.

  “That uniform is quite…uniform,” Black Paralysis said. “We’ve seen too many guys like you wearing it, while causing trouble around these parts.”

  “I just joined up last week. Some guy asked me to stop in and meet some people.” He was holding his hands up, palms out, to cover his face. He wasn’t even able to look at the two heroes standing over him. “I don’t know anything. Really.”

  “Why don’t you tell us what you do know, and we’ll decide how much we need to hurt you.”

  “I’m bringing the van around now,” Manerpillar said.

  “Where are we taking him?” Speetah asked.

  Black Paralysis tilted his head and looked down at the scared teen. “If we told him, we’d have to kill him.” He looked back up at her with a wry smile. Their prisoner covered his head mumbling in fear.

  The van was parked outside the abandoned warehouse. They were no longer using it as a base of operations, but the group figured it would be safe enough to bring their prisoner here for questioning. Patrick leaned against the van talking to Manny and Abby, as Crystal and Sean were inside talking to the young Visionary.

  “What are we supposed to do with him?” Patrick asked.

  “Tie him up?” Manny was messing with a piece of an old extension cord.

  “Drop him off at the police station with a note,” Abby said.

  “We can’t just leave him tied up for who knows how long,” Patrick said, addressing Manny, “and we the police aren’t going to just trust some random note on a guy that didn’t commit a crime.”

  “He didn’t just join the Boy Scouts of America,” she said.

  Before the argument could continue, Sean stepped out of the building. “Kid’s a regular song bird. He’s telling us all kinds of stuff.”

  Patrick looked at him with an expression of concern, afraid to ask the question. “You guys aren’t…hurting him…are you?”

  “What? Nah, we’re not the CIA.” Sean waved off his concerns. “We’ve just been applying some creative descriptions of how my powers are going to affect him long term.”

  Patrick’s puzzled look hinted that he needed more information.

  “He thinks that if I hit the same spot three times, the loss of control for that limb becomes permanent. Right now he’s convinced he’s on the edge of becoming a southpaw for life.”

  “Well, that’s…creative,” Manny said.

  “Crystal’s telling him that she’ll make sure I put him in a wheel chair if he doesn’t start talking. She’s got a mean streak. I like it.”

  “So?” Patrick asked.

  “What? I’m not going to put that kid in a wheel chair. My powers don’t even—”

  “No, I mean so what is he telling you?” Patrick clarified.

  “Oh, yeah. He says he’s new to the organization.”

  “We already know that,” Abby said.

  “Yeah, that’s his go to excuse as to why he doesn’t know much. But get this, he says there’s a pretty big meeting tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Meeting with who?” Patrick asked.

  “With ‘whom,’” Manny corrected, just shy of a whisper.

  Patrick shook his head, but couldn’t hide the small hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Meeting with whom.” He stressed the last word, stretching it out as far as it would go before snapping.

  “He’s not sure, but the rumors in their organization is that their leader, Sight, is calling in a lot of his major city connections. Like politicians and junk,” Sean said.

  “Where?” Manny asked.

  “Again, he’s not sure. Can’t be too hard to figure out, though.”

  “Yeah, put the drones up, and keep an eye out for shady back alley boardroom meetings,” Abby said. She tugged the hood of her sweatshirt back up and scaled the back of the van like a cat, sitting on the roof.

  “She’s right,” Patrick said. “We can’t just poke around blind, hoping we see some suspicious activity.”

  “He may not know where, but he knows when,” Black Paralysis was wagging his finger at the others. “More importantly, he knows where they’re coming from.”

  Abby leaned forward. “You mean?”

  “The Watchtower. He knows where their headquarters is.”

  Patrick was massaging his hands. “This is the break we needed. We have to take the opportunity to find out more about these guys.”

  “Still doesn’t answer the question of what we’re supposed to do with him,” Manny said. “We can’t risk him running back to HQ and ratting us out.”

  The door of the warehouse slammed open as the Visionary tumbled out, rolling with the grace of a thawed chicken. Crystal stepped out soon after. “He says he’s done with his old crew. Says he wants to join us.”

  “And you believe him?” Abby asked.

  “No, but I figure I would let him plead his case with you guys, rather than listen to him whine for another minute.”

  The teen got back to his feet, rubbing his right shoulder. He was rubbing the pain away and trying regain the feeling in his paralyzed limb.

  “Well?” Sean asked. His tone was snappy and impatient.

  “I wanna join you guys,” he answered.

  “Yeah, we were all sitting here when she said that,” Abby said. “Let’s skip the what and go right for the why.”

  “Why what?” the young man asked.

  “Why do you want to join us, professor.” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips.

  “Oh…yeah…I’m just trying to make ends meet. Keep a roof over my head. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I had no idea who those guys were when I told them I would help out.”

  “We, uh, don’t have a payroll department,” Patrick said.

  “I, I know that. I just want to do something right this time. They had me helping to break in to stores and stuff like that. Gave me some of the money. It just felt wrong.”

  “I bet you kept it,
though,” Speetah said.

  The Visionary looked down at his feet, hoping to avoid her steel gaze. “I just want to fix things. Clean up my mess.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around,” Patrick said.

  The other heroes looked at him. He was their group’s leader by default, but it was something he would dump off on someone else, with no hesitation, given the chance. Patrick didn’t like the feeling of having to make big decisions like this, but he also didn’t like passing the mantle off to Man-vil, the only other hero willing to fill the role. Too willing.

  “I’m sorry, but we don’t know you all that well. And you have to admit, you didn’t put in the proper paperwork to apply for the job. That uniform just carries too much baggage for us.” Patrick stood with his arms folded, but his posture still lacked power, and intimidation. It was more like someone stuck in a long office meeting.

  “I say we lock him up in there,” Sean was pointing to the warehouse. “Just until the meeting is up, then we can swing by and let him go.”

  “Maybe we can just keep him with Broadband and Big Brother,” Manny said. “That way always know where he is, and we’ll be in contact the whole time.”

  Patrick weighed his options. “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Nolan,” he said, stammering. “Nolan Taggart.”

  “Well, Nolan, we’re not going to abandon you here, so breathe easy. But we don’t trust you enough to let you run around with us.”

  “Not to mention, you’ll just be slowing us down, kid,” Abby said. “We’re not out here playing freeze tag, so you’re just baggage.”

  Nolan whipped his gaze at each of the supers standing over him, afraid to play his ace in the hole. “I got powers, too.”

  Boost, Speetah, and Patrick all stood facing Nolan. He was thin. A collection of sticks and rods lashed together and draped with clothes ‘kids today’ wear. He shifted from foot to foot, clutching a water bottle to his chest. Next to his frail frame, the bottle looked comically large.

  “Are you sure about this?” Boost asked. “He was spying on us for that militant goon squad.”

  “At least he wasn’t filming us in portrait mode,” Speetah said with a sardonic smile.

  “Funny,” Boost said.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Patrick said. “The others are out there digging up contact info for more heroes to help out, but chances are, it’s going to be the same group as before. Things have only gotten worse, so it’ll be a tough sell to get them to knuckle up with us when the opening bell sounds.”

  “Look at this guy.” Boost gestured to Nolan with an outstretched hand. “Kid can’t be more than a buck ten, even with that water bottle and those combat boots he’s wearing.”

  “He’s at least willing to make up for what he’s done.” Patrick turned to Nolan, “Alright, show us what you’ve got.”

  He looked around, eyes darting like prey on the lookout for a predator. “Uh…ok.” He looked down at the bottle in his hands, unscrewed the lid, and chugged half of it down. While he was catching his breath, he poured the rest over his head and shoulders. Once the bottle was empty, he held his arms out wide, with a grin. “What do you think?”

  Speetah groaned and shook her head. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Nolan’s face turned down to his body. “You can’t see it?”

  Patrick wasn’t sure what he was supposed to see, but he did notice that the kid looked healthier. But more like he got a full night’s sleep, not something from a super ability. “Help us out here, what are we looking at?”

  “I guess my clothes are too baggy,” he said. He looked around again. “I need more water.” He ran to the curb where a fresh overflow of water ran down the gutter from some mysterious location uphill.

  “Aw, come on, man,” Boost was disgusted as Nolan dropped to the street and put his hands in the stream.

  Bits of leaves, paper, and other detritus built up where his hands blocked the flow. Patrick focused on his arms and hands, noticing that his sleeves were starting to fill out. His clothes started tighten, as the body underneath bulked up. After a few seconds, Nolan stood and faced his panel of judges. The features on his face had smoothed out a bit, giving him an almost generic suggestion of human facial structure. He now stood a head taller than Patrick, a hair taller than Speetah. His chest and shoulders were much broader.

  “He’s built like the Man-vil,” Boost said, excited to witness the demonstration of power.

  “I gotta admit, that is impressive,” Patrick said.

  “Is that all show, no go?” Speetah asked.

  Again, Nolan snapped his head side to side, a mouse looking for bits of food, his demeanor betraying his physical appearance. Once he found a suitable object, he jogged over and picked up an empty soda can, showing it like a magician presenting a foam ball. With one hand, he crunched and squeezed the aluminum can into a small wadded mass with the ease of crumpling a piece of paper.

  “As long as I’m in this form, it’s like the water is doing all the work. I can hardly feel anything.”

  Patrick looked back and forth at Speetah and Boost. “What do you think? Kid’s got some potential.”

  “Color me impressed,” Speetah said.

  Boost dropped his jaw feigning surprise. “She’s never impressed. If you’ve got her vote, then you’ve got mine as well.”

  “Welcome to the team,” Patrick said.

  “Awesome!” Nolan held his hand out and approached the group.

  Boost recoiled in disgust. “Bro, go wash your hands first.”

  CHAPTER

  21

  The meeting with Sight’s contacts was taking place in the middle of the day. Their drones weren’t stealth birds, capable of hovering around without being seen, so the overhead access was limited. Their roster was also limited, with Big Brother, Black Paralysis, and Man-vil having to hang back in the real world to keep up with their real world obligations so they wouldn’t lose their jobs. Hours before, Patrick, Beat Boxer, and Speetah took up positions near the Watchtower, ready to trail any important looking characters on their way out. The key was to just see who the meeting was set up with, and if they were lucky, get a hold of any information they could use against the Visionaries.

  Half an hour before the designated meeting time, a convoy of vehicles left the underground parking lot of the building. Four luxury sedans, all splitting up and taking different routes. The heroes had predetermined which directions each of them would head, if their targets split up. Taking the agreed upon routes, Speetah, Patrick, and Beat Boxer tailed their target vehicles, while one of the drones kept an eye on the fourth.

  “We’ve got a fifth,” Broadband said over the radio. “Spotted it leaving, just as I started tailing the other car.”

  “Which way is it going?” Patrick asked. “Maybe one of us can keep an eye on two cars.”

  “No can do. It’s heading away from the others,” Broadband said.

  “I’ll follow it,” Manerpillar said. “No one is gonna notice me on their tail.”

  “Your van looks like it leapt out of a cartoon,” Speetah said.

  “Yeah, but I’ve got tracking skills. I can tail them with my eyes closed.”

  “The only way they aren’t spotting that colorful monstrosity is if they have their eyes closed,” she said.

  “Graham, are you and Nolan ready to move?” Patrick asked.

  “Yeah, we just need a location and we’ll head right over to deliver some piping hot justice,” Boost answered.

  Nolan’s soft voice came in over the radio in the background. “Please don’t say that again.”

  “I agree with the kid,” Speetah said.

  “Hey, I know we’re kind of busy with the objective, but shouldn’t the kid have a name, too?” Boost asked. “I was talking to Trevor last night and we tossed some ideas back and forth.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to like this list,” Speetah said.

  Patrick chuckled between breaths, as h
e followed his target. “Let’s hear them.”

  “Hydrosis,” Boost started going down the list with no preamble, or explanation, “Whale, Tsunami, and my personal favorite, High Tide.”

  “That sounds like you’re encroaching on Weed’s turf,” Beat Boxer said.

  “There are few others. The stuff that didn’t make the cut,” Boost said.

  “If those are the names that made the cut, I’d hate to hear the rest,” Patrick said.

  “I don’t know, now I’m morbidly curious,” Speetah said. “Lay the others on us.”

  “Alright, alright. You asked for it. Sponge, Wet and Wild, Oceania, H2Grow, Waterballoon—”

  “Wait, what was that last one?” Patrick asked.

  “Waterballoon? That’s the worst of the lot,” Boost said.

  “No, before that.”

  “Oh, you mean H2Grow? That was one of Trevor’s.”

  After a brief moment of silence, “I like that one,” Patrick said.

  “Yeah, it sounds weird, but it fits the kid’s powers well,” Speetah said.

  “If he doesn’t mind, I think we found a winner,” Patrick said.

  “He says he’s fine with that,” Boost said.

  Patrick was vaulting from one rooftop to the next, moving with a practiced ease he had developed over the course of the past few weeks. His abilities were second nature now, allowing him to traverse all types of terrain with minimal difficulty. The freedom of movement, and the extended senses he gained through the milk coursing through the tubing embedded in his suit, made him feel much more powerful than before. He had no trouble keeping up with the car he was tailing, and felt almost no fatigue or strain after sustaining the pace for several blocks.

  The car turned onto a smaller side street, and stopped underneath the freeway overpass. Patrick knew the area pretty well. If the car would have kept heading straight, they would reach the police station. It was somewhat comforting to know the cops would be this close if he got into serious trouble.