Blüdhaven
June 9, 23:46
"Not just bulletproof, this bitch is strong too," I remarked and scanned the squealing and moaning thug's left arm, the limb looking like a snapped toothpick. Elbows were not supposed to bend that way.
This guy came flying out of the chop shop's top window when I arrived, and he would've landed pretty hard and earned more than the ruined arm—that he came out of the building with—if I didn't break his fall.
Hearing the gunshots, grunts and panicked screams reducing in intensity by the second, I continued my journey to the entrance with measured steps and noted the security shutters that had been ripped from their hinges and thrown to the side.
Someone hated doors.
Purposely stepping on a piece of broken glass, I entered the shop proper and raised an arm up in haste, catching a wrench aimed squarely at my face.
"Hello to you too," I said and threw the tool to the side, noting the indented handprints on it. This bitch was really strong.
"Who the fuck are you?" asked the girl, six feet tall with a head of auburn hair and the fashion sense of a hipster. Her hair was cut short, an adult Naruto mop that sat atop a face that was Asian-Egyptian.
'Huh, Egyptian,' I thought and checked the readouts in my HUD again. I would've never guessed that. Though now that I thought about it, it made sense. I recognised her name.
Grace Choi. Age, fifteen. Wanted for theft, assault, aggravated assault, participation in illegal and underground fights in multiple states.
Taking my eyes off the multitude of hits and the mile long rap sheet that returned when I scanned her face and sent it over to Mike, I looked about the ruined, stolen car disassembling shop, scanning every unconscious and unmoving thug.
None were dead, but most would wish they were when they woke up.
"You gonna say something dipshit?" said Grace, bringing my focus back to her.
"I'm Specialist, and I've been tracking these guys for a while. You—just messed it all up."
She didn't even deign to roll her eyes and simply ignored me, going towards a car that had not been completely dismantled, leaving a bootprint on some unlucky thug's face.
From the looks of the butchered car, they were still working on it when she crashed the place.
"Boo-fucking who. Pieces of shit had the guts to steal my ride."
"Well, one of these pieces of shit managed to get a call in, and their bosses are sending a group of hitters to deal with the super freak."
"So? Let those fuckers come. I'm still pissed."
"The freak they were referring to was me, not you."
"Oh.. then fuck off then. Arghhh… these motherfuckers," she banged both hands on the hood of her green Jaguar, her clenched fists leaving deep dents. "How am I supposed to get to Metropolis now?"
"Metropolis? What's there?"
"Nonya fucking business."
"Fair," I said and stepped closer. "Now let's cut the shit. I don't care about these lowlives. But some of them need medical attention and I don't want the paramedics I'm calling to be here when the assassins arrive."
"Paramedics but no police?"
"Police will be here too, but none of what they find is gonna stick. Which is what I'm counting on. So, here's a deal. You help me take down the goon squad the top guys are sending WHILE keeping these pieces of shit and the paramedics safe, and I'll get you a car. Deal?"
"A few assassins too much for you, mister hero?"
"Oh, so you don't want in?"
"Fuck you. I'm in."
Smiling, I checked in with Mike about the situation.
"Paramedics are three minutes out. Hit squad, one."
"Run the list by me again."
"The Blockbuster Gang—"
"Wait. They really call themselves that?"
"Yes. The gang consists of Lady Vic, a mercenary known for the great lengths she will go to to complete any job. She's done some jobs all over the world, but she spends most of her time in the city.
Brutale, an assassin with a penchant for knives. Rumors have it that he was a member of an unknown nation's secret police, mainly their torture/interrogation expert, and fled after the populace revolted.
Electrocutioner, a vigilante who embraced villainy when his lethal methods clashed with Batman's. Certain investigations indicate he's the younger brother of the former Electrocutioner, who also clashed with the Batman for similar reasons.
Last on the list is Randy Hanrahan, or Stallion, as he prefers. The only noteworthy thing about him is his heavy use of steroids, and yes, including Venom."
"Hmm, okay," I said, lining up the images of the four in a row above my watch. The temptation to laugh and dismiss the threat these clowns posed clawed at me desperately.
Instead of giving in to that urge however, I focused on how to quickly take them down and also use them to accelerate my city purging process. I needed my army of feds crawling over every inch of this place ASAP.
"How about you throw in that fancy toy too," Grace chimed in, her hungry gaze on my watch. "A car suddenly doesn't seem enough."
I dismissed the hologram and stared up at the giant of a girl. "Let's finish this then we'll talk. Help me get the idiots inside."
Grabbing the three unconscious fools she'd tossed out of the shop in her rampage, we dragged them back in and I gave her a long hard look when I wanted to close it and recalled the shutters.
"Door was in my way," she rebutted unrepentantly and crossed her muscular and heavily tattooed arms.
"Hm," I shook my head and got in the game. "Hitters will be here in ten seconds. Get inside and hide. I'll deal with them. Remember, nobody dies."
"Fuck that. I wanna bash some heads in. You protect them. Hero."
"What—"
A tingle rang in the back of my head like a gong and the world slowed to a crawl, the flight of the rocket towards where we stood progressing like the wind had turned into molasses.
Quickly activating the candle flame, the supercharged state of my mind and body came under my absolute dominance and I cycled through the many solutions currently at my disposal and settled on the forcefield.
Responding to my quickened thoughts, a bubble of pure and invisible energy encapsulated not just me, but Grace and the store's wide entrance as well, and I braced myself for the impact.
Said impact never occurred as a strong hand gripped my shoulder and shoved me to the side, the forcefield popping as Grace broke through it with sheer strength and stepped into where I stood previously.
I noted her challenging smile right before her arms went up in an "X" and the world became light, sound, heat and force. Everything was up, down, left and right, but that moment of confusion was brief as I reoriented myself in mid air and took active control of my unscheduled flight.
Stealth functions came online as two spider legs erupted from my back and fired web lines into the mass of flames, smoke, and falling dust and debris, the lines going taut before launching me back into the mess.
A breath I didn't know I held escaped me as I found Grace where I last saw her, her stance unbowed.
She stood on both her feet with both arms raised, and apart from the blackened spots on her skin and the ruined and burning state of her clothes, she was none the worse for wear.
"You okay?" I asked and stopped right next to her, decloaking and firing webs at her exposed midsection, concealing up her exposed skin and wealth of tattoos.
"Fucker. What do you think? I just ate a rocket. Shit stings."
"Okay. Are you hurt?"
"Hurt that you covered me up. You heroes are so—"
"Can it. The guys who did it are still out there. You will stay here while I deal with them."
Without giving her a chance to respond, I vanished and rushed out of the smoke, shaking my head when my exit out of it drew the attention of the three making their way toward the burning store entrance.
Decloaking for the third time tonight, I rushed headlong to meet them, and Stallion jabbed a syringe into his arm while Brutale and Electrocutioner veered off to the sides, a storm of knives flying from one end and streams of electricity from the other.
Both attacks bounced off of me harmlessly, my rush to meet Stallion staying unhindered. The muscle brain's steroid built physique bulked up even further, the radical changes leaving him a solid 7 feet tall from the 6 foot 4 he used to be.
His transformation sequence ended the moment I reached him, and I heard a chuckle rumble out of his throat. He saw my fist swing for his chest, but he made no move to dodge.
The chuckle turned into a shocked wheeze when the strike lifted him off his feet and launched him backward like a wrecking ball.
He flew into the van he and his friends arrived in, breaking through the glass, into the vehicle proper and then back doors before his flight finally ceased.
Drawing my attention to them, Brutale and Electrocutioner advanced on me with even more attacks, and I wondered why they hadn't escaped yet. The answer came in the form of another rocket.
'Is this bitch crazy?'
I shot two webs to the side in haste and crossed both arms. Captured by the web lines, the two idiots smashed into each other with a sound that would make the average onlooker wince, the resulting scene exacerbating their discomfort even further.
When the two made contact, some of the many, many knives affixed to Brutale's suit stabbed into Electrocutioner, and the latter, whether by intention or not, lost control of the circuitry in his suit and zapped his partner until I separated them.
Right after the separation, the rocket arrived and a scene similar to earlier played out, except, apart from the bright explosion of lights (which my suit filtered out), nothing else managed to penetrate the timely raised barrier.
Once the destructive maelstrom around me cooled a bit, I vanished and deactivated the bubble, rushing to Lady Vic's perch, where she surveyed the scene with a pair of high tech goggles.
Scaling the building and making my way to her rear was easy, knocking her out even more so. The unconscious mercenary slung over my shoulder and her weapons bundled up with webs, I returned to the scene of the carnage and webbed her and her colleagues to a wall.
Not before stripping them of any and all weapons, money, and valuables.
Grace stood beside me in her web dress, arms akimbo as the bag containing all the money we looted from the idiots dangled from her hip.
"Okay mister nice moves. Shouldn't we get my car and get outta dodge? Before you know… the cops get here?"
"Forget that piece of crap. I'll get you a new one. We need to talk by the way."
"Okay? Spill then? What's this about?"
I raised a hand, signaling her to wait. Retrieving a small canister from my belt, I stepped close to Lady Vic and sprayed her with it, repeating it with the others.
"Didn't you already catch the fuckers? What's that supposed to do?"
"It'll help me catch them again."
She gave me a 'I know you fucking lying' look but I paid it no mind and looked up to a nearby building's roof where the Zephyr was waiting for me.
Sirens suddenly blew through the night, growing stronger with every passing second and I waved for her to follow me.
"What I said. About needing to talk to you about something."
"Yeah? Still waiting on that and my car."
"Ever heard of the Amazons?"
.
.
.
.
Washington D.C.
June 9, 23:59
With my current authorization level, there was no way I could give a person unapproved by any senior leaguer access to the League's Zeta-Tubes. With my current technological prowess however, such issues would be like a baby's fart before an air freshener. I could give just not Grace, but anyone I wanted access.
Of course, rather than going that radical route, there were also my private Zeta-Platforms, however using them meant keeping secrets, and I had no intention of keeping Grace secret from the League.
In fact, on our five minute trip to the Hall of Justice in D.C., I'd sent word to Batman and Wonder Woman on the… outgoing girl and asked them to meet me, if it was possible and not a bother.
It was definitely a bother, but they had sent word back, a green light on both fronts. I guess Batman and his security concerns and the mention of a young Amazon out alone in the world to Wonder Woman was enough motivation for both of them to get out of bed.
That is… if they were even asleep before I messaged them.
Speaking of the young, potential Amazon herself, Grace had cleaned herself up and changed out of her web dress and now sported more or less, a brand new but close replica of what the rocket's flames took from her.
They were a set of green wraps around her forearms, a top that showed off the tattoos on her back and at the lower end of her mid riff, and a pair of baggy, military green cargo pants she tucked into a pair of tightly laced boots.
She'd had fun with the ship's fabricator for most of the flight, using it as a way to play down the emotions my words had evoked from her. All I did was tell there was a good chance she was related to Wonder Woman, that she came from a place where there were more people like her.
The drastic shift in demeanor that came over her caused a mild, mental disconnect.
In the brief moment I'd known her, she'd put on such a strong exterior that it made me a bit confused when the mention of possible family turned her entire demeanor solemn, the notion of belonging somewhere making her much more mellow.
I chalked it up to her past, the little information Mike had dug up and my own meta-knowledge painting a somewhat clear picture as to why my words affected her so much.
Out of the hovering, cloaked Zephyr and walking up the Hall of Justice's steps, I glanced over to my right at the shifty girl grasping her own arms for comfort and sighed.
"It's going to be fine," I said, earning a confused and doubtful stare. "Look. Even if I turn out to be wrong, you are no longer alone now. I'll give you the car, a job if you want it, and my number. You can call me for anything you need. So come on, cheer up."
She nodded and managed a small smile. "Thanks," she said before looking a bit sheepish. "Though I've forgotten your lame ass name."
"It's—you know what. Forget it. This way," I resumed climbing the steps. "Your island of sisters awaits."
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