by S. J. Delos
I flew right at him, heading straight for his chest. He drew back his arm, obviously intending to knock me out of the air before I could hit him. Instead, I pulled back at the last possible second to land in a forward skid.
He swung his arm around in a vicious haymaker, slapping the empty air where he expected me to be. By the time he registered the fact he missed, my slide brought me right up to him. I whipped out a punch of my own, targeting the exposed ribs left open by his foolish attack.
It was like hitting a bag of wet sand. Something beneath my fist cracked loudly, then the big guy towering over me let out a groaning wheeze as his lungs were divested of air. He stumbled away, clutching his side, to fall fell against the side of the cargo car he’d so recently been pilfering.
What the hell? I mean, sure, I hit him hard. But it wasn’t like I tried to punch through a durasteel-dipped diamond or anything. I didn’t use more than a quarter of my strength, since I couldn’t be sure what level of durability he possessed.
He slid down onto his ass and slumped against one of the wheels, hand still pressed against his side. His chest rose and fell with apparent exertion, his face turning a sickly greenish hue.
I stepped closer to notice a heavy sheen of sweat forming on his forehead, glistening in the morning sun. He looked like someone who’d just spent thirty minutes going around inside one of Death Wind’s micro-tornadoes and was half a heartbeat away from puking his guts out.
I crept closer to the fallen thug, my boots crunching on the gravel, though I kept my hands curled in a pair of tight fists. It wasn’t impossible that he was faking to catch me off guard. However, when I got close enough to hear the labored, damp whistle that accompanied each breath, I knew he was really injured.
I shook my head, looking down at him. The sun behind me cast my shadow over his face.
“You okay down there, Rupert?” I asked.
He looked up at me, eyes wide. As if he thought I was going to hit him again.
“I think … I think I’m going to be sick,” he groaned.
I squatted so we were at equal eye level and reached out, pulling his hand away from his side so I could lift up his shirt. The spot where my punch hit was already turning a dark purple color and something under the skin moved each time he managed to draw in a breath. I pulled the tank top down and replaced his hand, which was trembling, over the injury.
It wasn’t just a broken rib or two. I was pretty sure most of them on that side were shattered.
“Don’t you dare hurl, Rupert,” I warned. “If you puke, I’m going to puke. I really don’t want to puke this early in the morning.” I sighed. “You don’t have an invulnerability at all, do you?” It wasn’t really a question.
He shook his head slightly. “No,” the onset of shock made his voice hollow. “Not yet.”
I pondered that odd response for a moment, then held up a finger to him as I pressed on my ear.
“Phantasm?” I said into the comm system.
“Right here, Kayo.”
“Radio the EAPF transport. They need to make sure they bring the medical gear out with them. They’re going to need it.”
“You got it, chica.”
“Zip?”
“I’m here.”
“Find a couple of blankets and get over here. I’m on the south side of the yard, near the rolling stock lines.”
“On it.”
I looked back to Rupert, patting him on his head. “Help is on the way.”
He nodded, settling more against the train with a slight whimper. He looked as dangerous as a wounded puppy which would have made the scene completely heartbreaking. You know, other than the fact he tried to hurt me first.
He must have thought along those same lines. “I’m sorry I hit you,” he croaked. “I never knew how bad it hurt to get punched by super strength.”
I shrugged. “I’m a Class Six Invulnerable, dude. I’ll be fine.”
“Must be nice,” he mumbled, eyes droopy.
I felt Zip arrive before my eyes could register him appearing beside us, almost as if from thin air. Tucked under his arms were two neatly folded blankets made of thick gray flannel. Property of St. Michael’s Shelter was printed along the satin edging.
The speedster looked at me for a second. Then unfolded both of the blankets to drape them over the injured villain. He tucked them around in a blur of motion before moving to stand just behind me.
“How’s that?” he asked.
I nodded as I stood up. “That’ll do.” I turned to give him a sideways glance. “I couldn’t help but notice the label on the blankets, Zip. Not falling back into your old habits, are you?”
Before joining the Good Guys as a fledgling hero, Zip spent some time in the custody of the police for petty larceny. After all, stealing things comes easy when you move faster than most people can see.
Zip brought up his hands, waving them back and forth. The air currents created by the action were enough to toss my hair around.
“Nononononono,” he blurted super-speed. “I mean, yeah, I took the blankets out of the storage locker at St. Michael’s. I’ve stayed there a few times before, so I knew where they were kept. But I left a note explaining we were only borrowing them.” He dropped his arms as his shoulders sagged. “Honest, Kayo. I’m done with speed crime. I promise.”
I put my hand on his shoulder, lightly squeezing. “I’m just teasing you, Zip. Just make sure that they get returned. I’ll give Father Davis a call later to let him know we took them.”
Zip looked down at Rupert, mouth turning down into a frown. “Wow. How did you bring down a guy that big so fast?”
“He might be big, as well as strong as hell, but he doesn’t have any invulnerability. I only … hit him once.”
Zip twitched then glanced down at the nearly unconscious man on the ground. “Dude, that was totally stupid,” he said with a tiny note of condescension. “If you aren’t super durable, you don’t pick a fight with Kayo. I guess you found that out the hard way, huh?”
Rupert croaked his agreement. His eyes moved over to me and his mouth opened. Whatever he was about to say got drowned by the sounds of the EAPF transport’s turbines as the carrier drifted past overhead to begin landing procedures.
“Uh, Kayo,” Zip said, looking up at the descending craft. “The, uh, police are here.” There was a tremor in his voice. When I glanced over at him, I could see the trembling of his arms.
Shit. When the EAPF finally apprehended the speedy stealer, the officers who processed him were not known for being fans of the Enhanced. After reading in his file that he suffered from claustrophobia, they forced him into a box no bigger than a locker. The panicking speedster bounced around the confines as fast as he could in his attempt to get out of the enclosed area. When he finally managed to get free, the two asshats wrestled him to the ground, beat on him a little bit, then added attempted escape to the larceny charges.
Luckily for the Joey, a higher-ranking agent—one I happened to share a bed with most nights—happened to be passing the holding room, the commotion catching his attention. When Kurt found out what was going on, he suspended both officers on the spot. Then he called in a specialist to evaluate the panicked prisoner.
Since the Max is usually reserved for hard-core super-villains, such as I used to be, powered criminals accused of minor infractions could get the opportunity to await their trial in a less institutional setting.
It only took me about fifteen minutes of talking with Joey to realize that, while he might be guilty of having slightly sticky fast fingers, he certainly wasn’t a public threat on the same level with someone like Colonel Tank.
After getting his promise that he wouldn’t try to escape or do any more stealing, I put in a request to have him remanded into the custody of The Good Guys while he awaited his day in court. Since then, he’d acted as my near-constant shadow while I did my best to turn the misguided youth into a bona fide champion of justice.
The incident wit
h those badge-carrying bigots, however, left Zip with an extremely uneasy feeling around the EAPF. Seeing him twitch as he did when the hovercraft touched down with a thud stabbed me right through the chest. Even though I constantly reminded him not all Enhanced law enforcement were alike, he still tried to avoid them whenever possible. He was going to have to get over his anxiety at some point, especially if he wanted to be a hero.
“Easy there, Joey,” I said. “Calm down. You know they’re not here for you.”
He didn’t take his eyes off the approaching officers and nodded in agreement so fast that his features blurred.
“Why don’t you take a look around, survey the damage or something, while I talk to the police?”
He glanced at me as a relieved smile touch the corner of his mouth. “Okay.” Then he blinked away as if by magic. I couldn’t repress my grin. Once upon a time, I used to be fast too.
Three agents in black uniforms disembarked from the transport, one pulling a hover gurney. They headed immediately in my direction. The senior officer stopped in front of me while the other two went to check on the whimpering bruiser.
“Morning, Kayo,” the officer said with a grin. He nodded at the man on the ground. “Getting an early start on the day?”
Officer George Braddock was an old acquaintance, as well as Kurt’s cousin. He was the first of Kurt’s relatives to meet me after my hero debut, welcoming me warmly into his house and family.
“Actually, George,” I said “I was about to put wrap up an otherwise quiet evening. Then Rupert here decided to muck up everyone’s morning.”
One of the officers kneeling beside the criminal unpacked some items from a kit with a big red cross superimposed on a capital “E” on the top. It was a standard field medical kit designed to allow first responders to deal with a host of injuries suffered by an Enhanced patient. From within the box, the officer pulled out a diagnostic scanner, waving it over the big man.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he said sharply. “This guy’s ribs look like they’ve been through a steam press.” He glanced up from the screen to look over at me.
I held up my hands in defense. “On my honor, George. I didn’t mean to hurt him.” I pointed down at Rupert. “He doesn’t have invulnerability, so when I punched ….” I let the results speak for themselves.
One of the officers now helping the perp onto the gurney shook his head. “Wow. You must be a special kind of stupid,” he said to the criminal. “Come on, Einstein, let’s get you to the transport before you hurt yourself again.”
George chuckled, then turned back to me. “Still planning on coming over for dinner on Sunday? Jeannie is making her famous pot roast.” Jeannie Braddock’s acceptance of me was even faster than that of her husband’s.
“Unless something changes, we’ll be there,” I said with a nod. “Listen, could you do me a favor? See if you can get Jeannie to stop dropping marriage hints every we come over? I think Kurt’s starting to get a little worried that he might not be moving fast enough.”
George shrugged. “According to her, he’s not. You guys have been dating for six months. As far as my Jeannie’s concerned, you two should already be married and picking out baby names by now.”
How I managed to keep the smile on my face while my heart seized is beyond me. Only a handful of people in the world knew I already went through the whole child-bearing thing. Somewhere in this city of millions was a little girl who didn’t have the slightest clue that her mother was the superhero known as Kayo.
Or that her father was Doctor Maniac, the world’s most feared super-villain.
Somehow, I answered without my voice croaking. “There’s plenty of time for that later. Just give her a little nudge, okay?”
He must have seen something in my eyes. His grin faltered a bit and he nodded ever so slightly. “Yeah, no problem, Karen. I’ll have a chat with her. See you Sunday.” George turned to walk back to the transport behind his fellow officers and their prisoner.
After the EAPF hauled Rupert away on a trip that would start at the Shack’s infirmary and end with a nice cell at the Max, Zip and I took it upon ourselves to try to straighten up the train yard. The majority of the destruction consisted of rail cars with their sides or doors torn open, the contents themselves relatively undisturbed.
Yeah, that big jerk was obviously been looking for something particular in them.
I casually picked up the empty tanker, now sporting a Volkswagen-sized dent in its side, and glanced over my shoulder at Zip. He was yanking on a piece of sheet metal easily three times his size. I watched him for a few moments, a smile curling on my face.
Zip was Enhanced for speed, not power.
His Class Two durability helped protect him against air friction as well as high-velocity impacts. His muscles were resistant to fatigue toxin buildup, and his reaction time was mind-blowing. Joey could easily process multiple streams of data simultaneously. Which, I imagined, came in rather handy when trying to maneuver down a crowded sidewalk at Mach 1. During downtime, it wasn’t unusual to see him reading a book, playing a video game, and sketching on a pad.
All at the same time.
“Whoa,” he said as he finally gave up trying to move the debris. “This stuff is freaking heavy.” He turned toward me. “It’s going to take a crane to—.” His eyes glanced at the tanker over my head. “Or, you could do this while I, um, do something else. Maybe?”
I set the tanker down with a resounding thud on the tracks. “Why don’t you head on back to headquarters. Get started filling out the incident reports?” My grin widened. “In fact, how about you see if you can not only get it written, but also filed before the police can finish booking our hulking friend?”
The little speedster nodded wildly. “Yeah! I can do that!” Then he zoomed off, leaving a cloud of light brown dust swirling around in his spot.
I shook my head, crossed my arms over my chest, and counted softly aloud. “3 … 2 … 1 …”
Zip reappeared next to the still-dissipating cloud. “Uh, Kayo?” he asked. “Where do we keep the incident reports?”
CHAPTER 2:
THE PUBLIC IDOL
I was nearly finished cleaning up the mess in the train yard when the phone inside one of my uniform’s pockets began to ring. I set down a crate that I found thrown near the fence to answer it.
“I know,” I said to the caller. “I’m way late for breakfast.”
“It’s okay,” the husky voice belonging to the handsome detective on the other end said. “I heard about your run-in with King Mammoth this morning.” He laughed, the sound sending shivers up my spine and tingles to other, more feminine, parts.
“I renamed him Rupert,” I said. “Though he seemed to take some offense to it.”
“I’ll be sure to note that in his file,” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice. “So, breakfast is a wash. How about lunch?”
I sighed. “I don’t know if I can keep my eyes open, Kurt,” I said. “I was up all night last night. Plus, I didn’t get that much sleep the night before.” I lowered my voice to what I hoped was a sultry whisper. “Someone kept me up doing … naughty things.”
Kurt laughed in my ear. “I don’t recall you suggesting we stop so you could go to sleep. As a point of fact, I recall being repeatedly told ‘don’t stop’.”
My face warmed rapidly and my grin couldn’t have surged wider. Detective Kurt Braddock was a man of many talents. A decorated, respected law enforcement agent, a thoughtful son, one hell of a cook, and possessor of bedroom skills that put most other men to shame.
“Touché,” I said. “I know. We could do an early dinner and stay in. I can get Alexis to cover my patrol.”
“Sounds good. See you around five?”
I smiled into the phone. “Looking forward to it.”
I hung up, returning to my task of straightening up the messy scene as best I could. Technically, my patrol shift was over, but I leapt back into the air to perform one last sweep
of the city before heading home.
I flew over downtown, keeping low enough to the ground to see the streets and down the alleys. Despite being rather early on a Monday morning, there was quite a bit of civilian activity going on. I did my best to provide assistance wherever I could.
I moved a disabled vehicle from the middle of a busy intersection, rescued a tree-trapped feline named “Scrappy” from the top of an oak, and stopped a run-of-mill mugging.
While flying over the sidewalk, I spotted a guy in the distance run past a pair of older women who were walking down the street. The punk grabbed both ladies’ purses then broke into a run, leaving the women to shout and try chasing after him.
I swooped down low, zooming right over the thief’s head. When I dropped to the concrete ten feet in front of him and crossed my arms, his eyes widened to comical extremes. He stopped a few feet away, looking at the bags in his hand. His gaze slowly came back to me as I stood in his path.
“Uh,” he said as his eyes fell on my black and blue uniform before darting around the area in a desperate search of an exit. Or an explanation. “Look… uh, Kayo. I… uh…” He held out the purloined purses. “I’m giving them back, okay? Please don’t hit me.”
I narrowed my eyes, biting down on my lip to keep from laughing. Apparently, the big bad crook was only tough when it came to a couple of elderly women. Facing a Good Guy wasn’t on his agenda this morning.
I nodded my head to the two angry women marching up the sidewalk behind him. The punk followed my gaze and thrust the bags in his hand toward them.
“Look, I’m sorry. I promise I won’t ever do this again.” There was an audible tremor in his voice. Maybe he hoped it would garner a sympathetic response from his victims.
Instead, one of them grabbed his ear and twisted, bringing the thief to his knees. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” she said loudly. “What would your mother think of you stealing from two defenseless old ladies?”
The other woman nodded her head in agreement with her friend, slapping the young man on the side of his head. This time, the laugh in me wouldn’t be contained. I shook my head. If these two were defenseless, then I was Princess Snow.
