Two Percent Power: Delivering Justice

by Brian Manning

  Patrick stood in the middle of the street pressing the earpiece with his finger as he thought about what she just said. There was no way he would sit at home while his friends were putting their lives on the line for the city. He would be just as stubborn, trying to find a way to join in. At least this way, they could watch out for each other, and steer him clear of any trouble while he headed their way.

  “Broadband, give him the clearest route. We want him fresh when we regroup at the tower.”

  “Roger that.”

  CHAPTER

  24

  Patrick and Boost had just finished another battle with another group Visionaries on their way to the rendezvous point. The third group in as many blocks. Each time the battles were tougher than the ones before. The opponents they were facing were no longer just the rank and file. They were stepping up against the more experienced soldiers. The battle proven troops, normally sent out one at a time with a group of less experienced goons.

  “I think he cracked a tooth,” Boost said.

  “Are you ok? I thought you would be able to shrug off more than that dude was dishing out.”

  Boost fished around with his tongue for a second before answering. “Oh, wait, never mind. It’s just a piece of chicken bone that got caught in my teeth during lunch.”

  “Is there ever a time when you’re serious about what we’re dealing with?” Patrick asked.

  “I was serious. I thought that guy had cracked my tooth for real.”

  Speetah and Nolan came up the street, joining them where they stood, the young man once again down to near his normal size in order to move quicker.

  “We should make sure the others aren’t having too much difficulty reaching us,” Speetah said. “These guys are getting tougher with each wave they throw our way.”

  “Don’t worry about us,” Beat Boxer said. “I just met up with BP and we’re about a block north of your location. Our paths were clear, save for a couple of thugs.”

  “Scratch that, looks like the welcoming party is on its way,” Black Paralysis said.

  Patrick looked at the others with a puzzled look on his face.

  Speetah pointed over his shoulder. “Welcoming party.”

  He glanced back to see a large group of Visionaries chasing Black Paralysis and Beat Boxer as they made their way to the others.

  “Stay where you are. We’re bringing the fun to you,” Beat Boxer said. She was close enough for her actual voice to reach them shortly after they heard her through their earpieces.

  This wasn’t just one of the same groups they were crossing paths with on their way to Sight’s precious Watchtower. It was a task force, sent out to stop the heroes. They were a few blocks away from the glass spire stabbing up over the buildings around it.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Black Paralysis said.

  He was right. Patrick saw two familiar faces leading the charge. The supers they tangled with and barely escaped from during the kidnapping attempt. Kill-O-What, and The Fear Mongrel. This time they had two more supers with them. A thick muscular man, wearing the same military style pants as the others, but with a white tank top and a pair of fingerless weightlifting gloves. His head was shaved bald, and he wore a pair of protective goggles over his eyes. A padlocked chain dangled from his neck as he ran. The other super was a tall, skinny man with long reddish brown hair. As he approached, Patrick could see that it was a long, well cared for, mullet. His outfit screamed 80s rocker, adorned with bandanas tied above and below his knees, wrists, and elbows. He was too young to be an actual 80s rock star, but he was dressed to play the part.

  Just as Black Paralysis and Beat Boxer reached the others, a glass bottle crashed into the street, stopping the Visionaries in their tracks. More bottles, cans, rocks, and even shoes flew their way as a large mob of people approached, yelling and screaming at the intruders. Kill-O-What put up a large field of electricity that deflected the objects being hurled their way, catching the people off guard and giving them pause. He looked toward Patrick and the other heroes, and then back at his own crew. With a lazy gesture, he ordered his soldiers to deal with the mob. The non-super Visionaries met the angry residents, erupting in a huge gang fight. The people outnumbered them, but Patrick knew the soldiers were better trained. It was an even match up.

  The four Visionary supers approached. With the melee occurring behind them, they were almost moving in slow motion, straight out of a movie. Patrick looked back at his allies, hoping they were ready to join the battle. Although they were worn thin, all were ready, stretching out sore, overworked joints, cracking knuckles, and rubbing away minor muscle aches in preparation.

  Patrick spoke low enough for only those around him to hear. “The pair in front are tough. We’re going to have to handle them two on one. The other two I’m not sure about. I’ve never seen them before.”

  “That’s Hair Devil and The Jack Hammer,” Broadband said, answering Patrick’s unasked question. “Hair Devil uses his lovely locks to ensnare and tie up his opponents, and The Jack Hammer emits blasts of vibration energy.”

  “No wonder his hair has that perfect bounce. It’s got a life of its own,” Boost said.

  “Something about that hair metal dude bugs me,” Black Paralysis said. “I’ll tangle with him.”

  “Nice,” Boost said, acknowledging the unintended pun.

  “I’ll take Mr. Clean. The bigger they are…” Beat Boxer said, letting the statement hang in the air.

  “You’re with me, kid,” Speetah said to H2Grow. “We’ll take sparky.”

  “I’m not sure how useful I’ll be against him,” he said. “I had to shed most of my water weight to get here.”

  “You’ll be fine. I just need someone to draw his shots away from me,” she winked.

  “We’ll be the dog catchers,” Patrick said.

  “I hope he’s had all of his shots,” Boost added.

  “You’re in the jungle, baby! Are you ready to Rock and Roll?” Hair Devil stuck his tongue out and whipped his head around, as his hair traced an unnaturally perfect path, drawing circles in the air above him.

  “I knew I didn’t like you for a reason,” Black Paralysis brought his fists up to his cheeks, and slid his foot forward to get into his fighting stance.

  With quick nod, his opponent shot several tendrils of hair forward, nearly catching Black Paralysis off guard. The living strands, gathered in smooth even tentacles, moved in and out, testing the range. He leaned back to avoid Hair Devil’s swipe and then rolled underneath another to close the distance, but the super villain matched movement for movement, leaving a comfortable buffer between them.

  The range was going to be difficult to overcome, Sean thought. Several hair appendages struck high, distracting him while his left leg was ensnared and pulled out. Sean’s breath escaped in a sharp huff, as his body slammed sideways onto the street. He did his best to cushion the blow, tucking his arm high against his head to prevent his skull from bouncing off the asphalt, which put most of the impact right onto his ribcage. He scrambled, kicking his foot free of its bindings, and whirled his legs up over his body to build up momentum. With a twisting kick, Black Paralysis pushed off the ground and was back up onto his feet.

  “You’ve got some slick dance moves, I see,” Hair Devil taunted.

  Dance moves? He thought. This guy is really sticking to his stage performer act. He drove forward once again, hoping to get within striking range of Hair Devil. Black Paralysis could feel his own power building up, fueled by his anger. He timed his defense, dodging each strike that came his way by moving straight ahead and off angle. Spinning to one side, Sean saw an opening, and lunged forward with a shuffling side kick. He took a deep step to get into range with his kick. Just as he expected his foot to plant solidly against Hair Devil’s chest, Sean found only empty space, as his opponent was jerked backwards, avoiding the devastating attack. Several of his hair tendrils snagged a light pole, and pulled the super out of the way. Is his hair s
elf-aware or was that a conscious act?

  Kill-O-What approached with his arms held out to his sides. “Your friends didn’t want a rematch with me?” Mock disappointment flavored his question. “Looks like I’ll just be warming up with the B-squad, then.”

  The first blow wasn’t even thrown and already Speetah was tired of his arrogance. His waxed and pointed facial hair and crooked smile mocked them. Almost like his intent was to choose this look to get a rise out of his opponents.

  H2Grow lurched forward, ready to take the super villain on. Speetah stopped him, hooking his wrist with her hand before he got too far ahead. “Wait. We can’t let him pull us into his battle. He’s too dangerous.”

  “He’s about to find out how dangerous I am,” Nolan pounded his fists together, like a boxer making sure his gloves were snug. His upper body still retained some of the water, but his legs and hips had shed most of the fluid, so it wouldn’t slow him down on the way here. In this state, he was still powerful, but without the solid base, his top heavy frame would make it difficult for him to land solid, powerful punches.

  Before she could discuss their plan of attack, a crackling bolt of bright white lightning ripped toward them. She was able to push Nolan out of the path, before jumping back herself.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” Kill-O-What shouted over the loud droning buzz from his personal energy field. Even his hard of hearing gimmick made the hair on the back of her neck and tail rise up. Everything about him was begging for a beat down.

  Speetah looked over to her teammate, and gave him a quick nod, hoping Nolan knew to follow her lead. When he answered with a nod of his own, she turned back to face their opponent and shouted, “Now!” She darted forward building up speed.

  The villain’s eyes bulged, as he lashed out with quick pulses of electricity, trying to slow her down. With deft maneuvering and redirection, she was able to avoid each attack. When he built up a larger blast, she pulled back on her speed just a touch to give him enough time to take aim. The blast was accompanied by a loud thunderclap that shook the air around them. Timing her footwork, she dove to one side, and came back up sliding to a halt at his flank. As Kill-O-What turned to face her, he took his eyes off the real attacker.

  She was keeping the villain preoccupied, forcing him to waste his energy attacking her, in order to let H2Grow get up close and personal. Kill-O-What’s field of energy had been almost depleted, but small fingers of electricity still crawled up and down his extremities. He was building up another powerful blast when the clumsy footsteps behind him caught his attention. Kill-O-What spun in time to see H2Grow swinging an oversized wrecking ball of a hand.

  There wasn’t enough time for him to avoid the blow, but he was quick enough to redirect his stored energy into a shield. Fist met field and the released energy exploded, driving both men back. Speetah saw her ally hit the ground and roll to a stop. His upper body was once again reduced to its normal size, as the stored water rained down around them in small drops and fine mist.

  Kill-O-What was still stunned by the blast. Speetah capitalized on the opening and moved in, lashing out with a solid front kick. The ball of her foot caught him high in the rib cage, just under his arm, dropping him to the mat. A pulse of energy fired up her leg as she made contact, causing her calf to cramp. She too dropped to the ground, clinching her teeth and clutching at the muscle, now contracted and stiff like a baseball.

  Beat Boxer snapped the hood of her jacket over her head and let the music pull her into a trance. The world around her pulsed with color and light, showing her where she could flow around everything and everyone in her path in the most natural way. The big, bald brute, The Jack Hammer, balled up his fists and pulled them back. He planted his feet, and pushed both hands forward, throwing a blast of vibration in her direction.

  The lights flickered and wavered as the beam pushed through the thick air. She had a hard time sensing where she needed to move. The most visible path was a streak of light, arcing up and over the shock wave. Beat Boxer pushed off of the ground hard, leaping through the air with a front flip, but it wasn’t high enough to avoid the full force. She felt the rumbling in her bones and lungs. Her clothes rippled as the blast washed past her. Abby didn’t want to imagine what would have happened to her if she hadn’t avoided the full brunt of the attack.

  Her feet hit the ground and she spun to avoid a second blast. This one smaller, and less focused. Rushed, it seemed. Once Beat Boxer reached the larger man, she waited for him to overcommit with another attack, letting the music show her the best answer to her dance partner’s lead. After she leaned away from a clumsy swiping backhand, Abby stepped up onto the knee of his bent leg, and launched herself up and backwards, flipping away. As her body rotated, she let her right foot lash out, catching him hard under the chin, clacking his teeth together like a Hollywood clapboard. The Jack Hammer stumbled back cupping his hands to his face.

  Beat Boxer landed softly, but didn’t stop her assault. Once again she moved forward, following the ever flowing light trails superimposed over the world she saw. Abby followed a large spiraling path, stepping up onto the side of a parked van, and launching herself back at The Jack Hammer. As his head and hands dropped for just a moment, she crashed back down, driving her elbow onto his collarbone. His scream scrambled her vision as the sound pierced through her headphones.

  He whipped his hand wide, in a desperate attempt to swat her away. She ducked underneath, and rolled to one side, as he followed it up with a hard stomp. Jack’s foot cracked the asphalt as it struck, sending out a violent wave of kinetic energy. This time she was too close to avoid the attack. Dizzied and disoriented, her vision was blurred.

  When the world smoothed back into focus, the bright trails of light traced two curving paths, moving around the large man as he rushed forward, splitting the light as he closed in. She stepped to the left, as Jack’s large hand grabbed one side of her hood. She did her best to break free, biting down hard on the meaty paw. His grip opened enough for her to escape, but the cable to her headphones was hooked by one of his sausage fingers. The light and color drained from her point of view as the ear buds were plucked free.

  Spittle flew from the man’s mouth as he shouted an incoherent battle cry, his rage made tangible by the wave of pure vibration that slammed into Beat Boxer. Her ears popped, and the breath was sucked out of her lungs. Her joints felt almost as if they were all about to dislocate. She was laying up against the van she had used as a ramp seconds earlier.

  Panic washed over her as she scrambled to plug the headphones back into her ears. No music could be heard when she got them back in. Had the blast deafened her? She could still hear the world around her. Pulling at the wire to see if they were securely fastened into her mp3 player, she pulled out the device. Instead, she found a shattered reflection staring back from the cracked screen. Her music, her source of power, was gone.

  “I’m not gonna turn into one of those if he bites me, am I?” Boost asked, pointing at The Fear Mongrel. The Visionary super solider had grown to almost seven feet tall, bristling with fur and muscle. His thick head was that of a Saint Bernard, with faint hints of human features. The chain hung from his collar, and the end that used to be wrapped around his waist was now around his fist.

  “He’s not a werewolf,” Patrick said. “At least I don’t think he is. Werewolves aren’t real are they?”

  Boost shrugged. “We’re the wrong guys to ask.”

  “Are you two finished?” The Fear Mongrel growled.

  “Let’s keep this short. Sit. Roll over. Play dead,” Boost said.

  “Yes, let’s ‘play dead,’” The Fear Mongrel pushed off with his back leg and ran straight at the duo.

  Patrick dove to one side to avoid the bum rush. He came up in a crouch, just in time to see Boost colliding with the beast. He wrapped his hands around the dog-man’s thick waist, and drove forward, like a linebacker hitting a tackling dummy. Fear Mongrel’s feet were swept up as the two slamm
ed hard to the ground. Before Boost could capitalize, the heavy fist, bound in steel chain, caught him with a solid blow to the side of his head. The punch had enough power to hurl him aside.

  Boost stayed down rubbing the side of his head. “Lucky punch, Fido. That kinda hurt.”

  The beast rose to his feet and released the end of the chain, letting it unravel and drop to the street. He kept his grip near the middle, and swung his arm in a high arc, bringing the chain down fast. Boost crossed his arms above his head, preparing to block the blow. Before the length of chain struck him, a flash of white deflected it to one side.

  Patrick pulled the bolt of milk back and spun around, lashing out with a whip of his own. His opponent ducked the attack, dropping to all fours, taking off to chew up the distance between them. Once in range, The Fear Mongrel swiped at Patrick with a powerful claw strike. Patrick brought both forearms up as a cushion, but the blow never landed. Just like he had saved his friend earlier, Boost returned the favor, keeping the monstrous weredog away, pulling at the length of chain clasped to his collar.

  “Down, boy! Heel!” Boost turned his body and pulled Fear Mongrel away.

  The ensuing tug of war gave Patrick the opening he needed to fire two solid shots from his cuffs into the creature’s midsection. It wasn’t powerful enough to take The Fear Mongrel out, but it knocked him off his feet, and allowed his friend to reel him in. Boost still had his back turned, chain over one shoulder, as he pulled. The Fear Mongrel changed his tactics, and leaped onto Boost knocking him to the ground and clamping his powerful jaws into soft, padded trapezius muscle.

  Boost let out a loud shout of pain and tried to reach over his shoulder to push the dog’s snout away. With a violent side to side whipping motion, The Fear Mongrel was trying to tear out a huge chunk of flesh. Patrick ran up as fast as he could, and snaked his fingers underneath the collar, trying to pull the monster back. He hammered away with short hooks to the head and jaw, trying to loosen the vise-like grip. Patrick pulled his fist back once more, this time pulling the tab on his cuff and forming a shape like the head of a sledgehammer extending from his hand. He unloaded a powerful swing that knocked the beast free with a yelp.