Super Powereds: Year 2 (23 page)

“Nope, but I’ll make you an offer. I don’t really fancy the idea of beating the hell out of someone who looks like my brother, so if you turn back, I’ll only break one of your legs to incapacitate you.”

“How very kind of you.”

Roy began lumbering forward. “What can I say? I’m a giver.”

* * *

Vince and Camille had been walking for nearly twenty minutes with no sign of the two people Alex had sensed. Admittedly, they had taken a very roundabout route in the process, but each was beginning to feel like they should have encountered someone by now. Part of it was merely mental fatigue: one can only jump at each twig snap and rustling leaf so many times before the adrenaline began to fade. Still, they endeavored to keep up their wits, which proved to be a very good thing. It was that attention to detail that alerted Vince to the rustle of footsteps behind him, and the familiar tingle at the back of the neck roused him to impending energy being conjured. Vince didn’t have time to think, only for a single burst of movement. He grabbed Camille by her narrow shoulders and hurled her away with every bit of strength he had.

The explosion detonated directly under Vince’s feet, sending him airborne with the shockwave and dropping him into a crumpled pile on the ground. He was unconscious before he even returned to the earth, his feet singed and bleeding at the ankles and his legs shattered in various places.

“Shit, that idiot damn near got himself killed,” Allen said, his position unchanged since he had fired the green exploding blast.

“He pushed the girl away and inadvertently stepped into your attack. No one can call that intended lethal force,” Hector assured him.

“Yeah. Good thing, too. I heard that guy can be a bastard to face head on,” Allen said.

“Him? I don’t see it,” Hector replied.

Camille heard their discussion like it was far away, her ears ringing from the same explosion that that had rendered Vince inert. She slowly pulled herself back to her feet. That idiot had nearly killed himself keeping her safe. He wasn’t supposed to do that. That wasn’t why she was here. She was supposed to help him, not endanger him. She took a few tentative steps forward to get her bearings.

“Sorry, Camille, can’t let you do that,” Hector cautioned her, bounding forward in a few ultra-stretchy steps and putting himself between Camille and Vince’s still slightly smoking body. “The last thing we need is him healed up and awake.”

“Yeah, we’re going to have to incapacitate you as well,” Allen said, hurrying to join his partner.

“It’s nothing personal. If you don’t struggle, I promise we’ll keep it gentle. We could probably just strand you high in a tree until the match is over,” Hector offered.

“Nah, man, they have a flier on their team. We’ll have to at least break her legs,” Allen corrected.

“How about we stick Vince in a tree and take out one of her ankles so she can’t heal him?” Hector replied.

“I guess that’s okay,” Allen agreed. It seemed soft-hearted to him; however, Camille had that aura of innocence that made hurting her feel like something akin to kicking a puppy. Besides, giving a healer a reason to hold a grudge was just plain stupid, even Allen knew that.

Camille merely watched them as they talked, trying to make the world become steady and preparing herself for what was to come. She wished she weren’t so frail; even this little bit of dizziness could make or break the fight that was about to happen. She didn’t have time for wishes, unfortunately. Vince was hurt and these people stood between her and helping him. She narrowed her focus down to that single fact.

Vince was hurt. Nothing else mattered. Not her shyness. Not her fear. Not her injury. Not these two warriors. Nothing else. Vince was hurt, and she was the only one here who could heal him.

Camille grabbed the coat of her uniform and clutched the zipper, racing it downward and hurling off the garment in one fluid motion.

42.

Nick spat a wad of phlegmy blood into the soft grass and wiped the remaining red trickle from his mouth. Gilbert’s punches weren’t the hardest he’d ever felt; however, the boy clearly hadn’t been slacking in combat training. After just a few of them, Nick’s vision was swimming at the edges and he was relatively certain there was at least a fracture in his jaw. He couldn’t take a whole lot more of this pounding, not if he hoped to pull his weight in the encounter. Gilbert materialized in front of him and leveled Nick with an elbow to the nose. The blow sent him sprawling to the ground and a fresh spurt of blood poured down his face.

“Not bad,” Nick said from his prone position. “I mean, if we ignore the fact that you’ve had over a year of physical training along with a few comprehensive courses in fighting under veteran Heroes. We have to leave that out of consideration, because if we included it then your inability to take me down would be just plain pathetic.”

“You’re the one on the ground,” Gilbert snarled at him.

“And it only took you five tries to get me, the physically frail Powered, down here. If you fuck as well as you fight I’m guessing your only successful pickup line is a chloroform-soaked rag.”

“Stop letting him get to you and finish it already!” Terrence yelled. He diverted his attention back to Mary, who had used the break in concentration to hurl a large chunk of tree at Terrance’s head. As it drew nearer the wooden projectile began to glow, then it shrank down nearly out of sight as it plopped uselessly against Terrance’s uniform jacket. His fingers dipped into his pocket and emerged with three quarters. He hurled them at Mary, a glow permeating them before they even left his hand. By the time Mary deflected them, the quarters had the circumference of dining room tables. That would have been bad enough, but the increased size did nothing to decrease the force they’d been thrown with, carrying them forward like the circles of crushing currency they had become. Mary had kept them away so far; however, it was becoming clear that these exchanges were more taxing for her than Terrance. All he had to do was shrink her attacks to ineffectiveness. Her mental endurance meant she could keep it up for some time, but this was a game where a single mistake on either part would create an immediate loser. It was not the type of battle she preferred to engage in.

“You heard your boss, Gilbert, better finish me off,” Nick said, nimbly rising back to his feet. “I don’t think he wants to keep trying his luck with Mary.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Terrance is clearly winning,” Gilbert shot back.

“Only if you ignore the fact that sooner or later he’ll run out of stuff to throw. Not to mention Mary doesn’t have to throw things at him, she can just pick him up and smash him to the ground,” Nick bluffed. She couldn’t use that strategy against someone as frail as Terrance safely, but there was no reason they needed to know that.

“If she could do that she would have,” Gilbert said.

“Maybe. Or more likely she’s keeping him occupied so you and I can have our little dance. See, I’m going to beat you, Gilbert, because sooner or later you’ll make a mistake and I’ll capitalize. If you were a better fighter maybe you could knock me out, but since this is all you’ve got I think we both know it’s just a matter of time.”

“You talk a lot of shit for a guy with blood all over his uniform,” Gilbert said. He kept his voice calm but the antsy way he shifted his weight told Nick that his ploy was working.

“A brilliant red testament to your failure. Each drop a symbol of my resilience and your weakness, because even with all this loss of life fluids, I’m still awake to call you a bitch.”

Gilbert didn’t reply this time, instead he teleported behind Nick. He resisted the urge strike him and forced himself to think smart. Nick was baiting him to prolong the battle. He wanted Gilbert to keep chipping away at him while Mary ran Terrance out of ammunition. Gilbert wasn’t going to play along; he’d shut Nick’s every yapping face hole using strategy. Gilbert leapt onto Nick’s back and sealed his right arm around the slender boy’s neck while his left palm drove the sandy-haired head forward. Gilbert circled Nick’s diaphragm with his own short legs and squeezed forcefully. This would drive the air out of Nick while Gilbert’s neck lock kept him from getting a new supply. It was a risky move that a trained combatant could navigate out of, however, Gilbert was certain someone as weak as Nick would be unconscious before he could work his way free.

Sure enough, Nick collapsed backward onto the ground and gasped as the majority of his oxygen was driven from his body. Gilbert smiled ruefully at his victory as he felt Nick’s body tremble on top of his own and couldn’t resist a bit of taunting.

“Where’s that constant chatter now? Don’t have anything to say before you pass out?”

Nick let out a ragged gasp that contained two barely audible words. If one hadn’t been as close as Gilbert it would sounded like a breath someone had stuffed syllables into. To him, in a moment that would haunt his memories, they formed two perfect conjugations that made no sense for the span of about a second.

“Got... you...”

Gilbert’s head exploded in pain as his whole body began to tremor uncontrollably. His grip was destroyed, but by the time he lost contact with Nick’s body Gilbert was already unconscious. Nick was too, lying a few inches away with a taser clutched tightly in his hand, the metal prongs pressed forcefully against his own leg. It was the only weapon he’d been allowed to keep from his original backpack of tricks and he’d hidden it in his pocket as soon as they were on the field. Gilbert was an impossible opponent to get the drop on due to his constant jumping about, and Nick had known that from the beginning. Even tricking him into using a hold would have been useless if he’d seen a counter coming. If the attack could be concealed, on the other hand, conducted through his own body, Nick would be able to take away the teleporter’s advantage. It was still a difficult and painful proposition, which might explain why Nick’s electrocuted and unconscious body nonetheless sported a grin some might describe as “shit-eating.”

“Well then,” Mary said calmly. “Now that those are two are done, I suppose that just leaves you and me.”

“Bring it on, I can go all day,” Terrance said. If he could make his stock last until Gilbert woke up then this fight could still be salvaged.

“Actually, you can’t. Funny thing about keeping all of your stuff to throw in your pockets: they can be ripped open and their contents can be covertly stolen away while you’re distracted.”

Terrance felt his stomach drop to his feet. He reached into the pocket he’d been using and found it intact, with a single dime remaining. Investigation of his other pockets revealed the unfortunate truth that they’d been torn along the seams and his entire stockpile was now absent from his body.

“I can still neutralize anything you throw,” Terrance said nervously.

“I don’t know about anything,” Mary replied. Terrance felt a firm force take hold of his coat and pants, jerking him several feet into the air. “I’m pretty sure you can’t shrink the ground when it’s racing toward you.”

“This, this is lethal force!” Terrance yelled.

“No, no, you’re only one story up. You’ll survive with at most a broken ankle or leg. As long as you land on your feet, anyway.”

“You could have done this all along,” Terrance realized. “Why didn’t you?”

“It’s been brought to my attention recently that I need to improve my level of control. Fighting you is pretty good practice at that. We should spar sometime when this is all over,” Mary offered cordially.

The grip on Terrance’s clothes vanished and he found himself tumbling rapidly toward the ground. No question about it, this was going to smart.

43.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hector asked as Camille’s coat wafted gently to the ground. She paid him no attention, seizing her pants by the waistband and undoing a series of concealed buckles on the interior of each side. She jerked outward, separating the snaps that ran down the legs and tossed her now-halved slacks to the grass. She stood before them in a pair of biker shorts and a sports bra. She felt a flush creeping over her as they stared; she was all-too aware of how little clothing now covered her. She took a deep draw of air and felt the elastic of the bra dig into her chest. Her breasts were larger than her frame would indicate, and the pressure pushing down on them made every breath just a touch more ragged.

“This took an interesting turn,” Allen said.

“Our uniforms don’t have zippers and snaps. Did you customize yours just to be able to strip it off?” Hector questioned.

Camille addressed neither, instead she began running toward Vince as fast as she could. If she made a dash for one of her two opponents they would suspect something. Forcing them to block her, however, would ensure at least one of them got in range.

Sure enough, Hector stretched his arms outward, cutting off any path she might have to her fallen ally. Camille never hesitated, she kept running until she careened into his right arm, his long elastic fingers encircling her bare torso as he pulled her away from Vince.

“Nice distraction, but did you really think we’d let you-GAAAHHH!” Hector’s words were cut off by a tortured scream that was ripped from his throat. Allen could only watch as his partner released the girl and collapsed to the ground. Something was wrong. Hector was bleeding and his arms and legs were twisted in awkward directions. Generally, Hector could move his appendages without regard to joint limitations, but it was always a smooth appearance, like stretched taffy. This looked like someone had ripped that same taffy apart and haphazardly slapped it back together at all the wrong angles.

“What... what did you do?” Allen said slowly. “You’re a healer, you can’t hurt Hector like that.”

Camille remained silent. The only response she gave was to step away from Hector’s mercifully unconscious body and begin to approach Allen. She took three tentative steps then charged. Allen hurled a series of green bolts at her feet, but Camille deftly sidestepped them with grace he never would have expected. Gone was the slow-moving girl with the gentle demeanor; in her place was a relentless stampede of skin and flowing hair. She threw a hand out, as if to grab him, and Allen rolled to the side on instinct. She shouldn’t be able to hurt him, but shouldn’t didn’t mean a damn thing when Hector’s sundered body was less than twenty feet away.