Blackjack Villain (The Blackjack Series)

by Ben Bequer

  “Out of my way kid,” I roared and came to my feet, jumping at him. He was good, and fast. Not only was he hyper-enhanced by the powered armor he wore, FTL was also a martial artist, and my blind bravado only rewarded me with a powerful kick across the jaw that made me stumble backwards. He spun and kicked me again, this time in my abdomen and followed that up a second later with another across my face.

  I forced my way through his blows and got my hands on him. In my grasp, his armor torn to shreds as I picked him up and hurled him into the side of one of the buildings. He screamed all the way, and crashed through the concrete of the partially collapsed structure, disappearing from sight.

  It felt good, to possess such raw power, so much strength. FTL’s armor was some sort of metallic composite, a heavy suit, weighing perhaps two tons, and I hurled it as if it had the weight of a basketball. He was protected enough that I would see him again, but for now, nothing stood between Epic and I.

  Indeed, he was finally to his feet, looking around for a target. And when his eyes settled on me, a murderous grin crossed his face.

  It was on.

  * * *

  I took a step towards him, then the wall I had thrown FTL through exploded outward, with a loud thump, and a blur I thought might be FTL at Mach speed struck me in the chest and hurled me backwards. I flew through the air, crashing in to a nearby hill. The impact buried me underground so far all I saw was darkness.

  Digging out was faster than I expected, as they actually came for me. Epic, FTL and Nerfhammer tore through the earth and dirt and pulled me out of the pit. FTL had a small grin of satisfaction on his face (which I could see through his Plexiglas helm cover), and Epic motioned for them to hold me so he could lay into me.

  “Coward,” I spat at him, but he was more concerned about how the others were pinning me so he could get a better shot. “You don’t have the balls to take me one on one,” I taunted, hoping to sting his sense of honor.

  But Epic wasn’t up for a fair fight. He laughed as he came closer, “You’re going to get a beating, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  I looked around, desperate for help from my companions, but one thing was for certain; the plan had gone wrong and I was alone. After the explosions, Zundergrub was to use his tendril powers and his imps to create even more confusion. During this, Cool Hand was to whirl through the mayhem, dropping his temporal orbs on everything that moved, and Mr. Haha was to provide the heavy artillery. But looking around, as Epic’s boys heaved me into position, I saw none of my allies.

  They had betrayed me, now when I needed them most.

  I steeled myself as Epic reared back a mighty blow; figuring one was all it would take. In the recent days, I had come to discover the true extent of my powers. Each experience leaving me tougher, or stronger, as I was learning what I was capable of, but this was different. Epic was probably the strongest man on Earth, and his clenched teeth and grimaced face displayed his true feelings for me.

  Feelings about to be shared with my face.

  I couldn’t take a punch from the guy. No one could. So our plan was simple; hit hard and fast, and keep them on the defensive. Meanwhile, Cool, Zee and Haha could take out the rest of the guys. But all alone against the entire Superb team, I had no chance.

  He released the punch and I almost expected my short life to flash in front of my eyes, but I saw no visions. Instead, Epic’s massive fist collided with my jaw, twisting my neck around with a decapitating fury. We were hurled back, FTL, Nerfhammer and I, and tossed about like rag dolls.

  I came to a stop against a concrete column, remnants of a fallen building, crashing into the pillar in a violent explosion, filling my sight with dust and debris. But instead of dying to the blow from the mightiest of Earth’s heroes, I withstood it. It hurt like hell, and I wasn’t sure my feet were totally beneath me, but I was still alive.

  I looked over at FTL and Nerfhammer and saw they were both hurt by the vicious blow. They had absorbed the force transferred through my body. FTL was like a boxer after an almost knockout blow, trying to come to his feet on jelly-like legs. He danced around, like a drunkard, collapsing and trying again. Nerfhammer was out, caked with his own blood. He wasn’t moving, or even breathing. In fact, he looked dead.

  They’d probably pin it on me.

  But this wasn’t time to worry about him, nor to give consideration to how I had survived the full force blow from Epic. It was time to fight, and he was game for more. Epic was rushing forward, unconcerned with the fate of his teammates, his eyes steeled on me and his fists clenched.

  “And here I thought you were a pansy archer,” he scoffed.

  I shook the last remaining cobwebs out of my head and charged him but this time he was ready for it. He angled his left leg back and dropped his whole body, rearing back a punch that would send me into orbit. Epic started screaming for some reason, and I inadvertently joined in. Like me, he was releasing all his primal rage into one blow. I was giving him what he wanted, a stand up fight. Each facing the other, hurling punch after punch until only one of us would be standing. Until Epic would be standing, BUT I had no intention to play his game and as I came up to him, I changed the plan.

  I hurled myself into him, like a missile, flying shoulder first, smashing into chest and sending him off his feet, flying back about a dozen paces. His blow was but a slight glance, off-power because I hit him first, yet my back ached and I feared he had broken a few ribs.

  I looked up for him through the haze, and noticed two things. First, he was coming to his feet faster than I was. Second, the terrain had changed. Haha’s explosions had ripped the ground and nearby walls apart, but with every blow Epic and I were trading was leveling the whole island. Surrounding us were hollow shells of the buildings, and nothing stood higher than a few feet. The structures of Hashima Island might have been abandoned and dilapidated, but the sheer force of our punches had brought everything down. We were two titans doing battle, exerting pressures on the island that it could not handle, and for a moment, I was afraid we would bring the whole thing down.

  No one stood, and my companions were still AWOL, but surrounding us was a ring of heroes. Many were injured resting on their knees, and a few were down for the count, laid unconscious as a result of the impact waves from our blows. Diamond Magus was down, as well as a few other minor ones, but I was surprised to see Superdynamic on his back, Mirage standing over him using his mystical healing powers.

  I had a feeling that was Apogee’s handiwork, and not mine.

  Apogee herself, I couldn’t spot.

  But Epic was right in front of me, getting up and looking for me. I had to win back the advantage, or I was a dead man. I fired off my rocket boots and barreled into his chest, again using my shoulder as a battering ram. If I had played in the NFL, they would have given me a fifteen yard penalty, but as it was, the blow pummeled Epic and sent him splayed back into the pit we had formed at the outset of our fight. After colliding with Epic, I fell to the ground, but I fired my boots again, this time flying almost fifty feet into the air in a slow arc that brought me down right onto of him. I didn’t just land on him; I brought one of my boots down like a battering ram, using all my momentum and all my leg strength to power the steel-laced boot into his face.

  This time I saw the concussion wave, I felt it. The fury of my blow powered through Epic’s head, hammering him deeper into the dirt. The impact made the ground collapse underneath us, the rubble around us shudder, and for a moment, I was scared we’d go right through and come out of the bottom of the island.

  The force of impact also sent me reeling back from his prone form, and I bounced off the lip of the pit my blow had formed. It was almost a dozen feet down at its deepest point (where Epic now lay), and about forty feet wide.

  I started in his direction, to finish him, when one of the flyers rushed down and slammed into my back, knocking me off my feet. He pounded away at my back and head, but I still stood up.

  It wa
s Powermaster, the fellow that had let Apogee and I pass into Penn Station. His costume was awesome, more impressive than any I had ever seen, and much fancier than what he had been sporting in our first encounter. But his facial expression was the same; fear.

  “Buzz off, shorty,” I said, mocking the fact that I towered over him.

  Then I felt a gust of wind at my back as dust and rocks whipped against me and Powermaster, signaling the approach of Atmosphero. He was coming from behind me, covering his partner Epic. I didn’t even look. I grabbed Powermaster by and arm and shoulder and spun, hurling him at Atmo. I heard a hollow pop as Powermaster’s shoulder disjointed and separated, followed by a scream as I released him. They collided with a horrible “Thwap!” and both went reeling into the crashed buildings.

  Another hero I didn’t recognize jumped down into the pit to face off against me, but I didn’t give him a chance, stepping forward and clocking him under the chin, sending his unconscious form flying back out of the pit. A flyer came down and grabbed my hair, using his power to try to lift me up off the ground, but I pulled myself up and kicked him squarely in the face. I landed on one knee, the hero in my hands, and I threw him into a few others that were moving forward to face me.

  After all the practice in Shard World, I was getting pretty accurate at throwing people around. Maybe I really didn’t need my bow after all.

  But playtime was over, when I felt a massive hand grab my left shoulder and start to spin me around. It was Epic, I could tell, and at the end of the turn, his other fist was going to pulp me. Instead, I threw my left arm back, slamming the back of my elbow into his face which halted his momentum towards me. Then I kept the momentum going, continuing the spin and crashing a brutal right hook at his nose.

  He did throw his punch, but it was off target and only grazed me, slipping past my shoulder. It was like a jackhammer against the joint and knocked me back. He also took a few steps back, shaking his head and fiddling with his nose. When he dropped his hand I saw why his nose was bothering him; it was horribly broken, and a stream of blood trailed from the left nostril.

  According to the rules of superhero fighting, I was supposed to give him a moment to compose himself, to let him say something witty, then retort with something awful and cruel, then go back at it. But I wasn’t going to beat him that way. Besides, fuck the rules, and fuck Epic.

  I rushed him again, not wanting to give him the chance to recover. He reacted a bit faster, but he had no idea what I was up to, so he put his fists up, readying himself for whatever I came up with. With his guard up and ready, I couldn’t hurt the guy, but I didn’t care. I roared like an angered boar, crossing the distance between us in an instant, and only at the last minute, I thought of what to do. I threw myself in the air at his midsection, like a middle-linebacker bringing down a running back coming through the line of scrimmage. He swung his arms back over his head, but I crashed into him, slamming him into the back of the pit by the time he brought his fists down to hit my back.

  We were right in front of each other now, what he wanted, and though I my tackle had taken the air out of his lungs, I hadn’t managed to knock him down to the ground. Doubled over from his first blow, he pounded down on my back again, bringing me to my knees.

  I screamed, filling myself with anger and rage, and hurled myself at his midsection again, slamming my head into his stomach. In one quick motion, I swung my head back, catching his face as he doubled over from the pain. His face exploded in blood from his destroyed nose. His hands left the guard position to stem the flow and he tried to backpedal to give himself some space, but we were right against the lip. I didn’t hesitate, rushing him. He threw a jab that almost took my head off, but I forced myself forward into a grapple with him. I grabbed his right arm with my left, and he did the same, and we pulled and pushed but could not get free. Epic was woozy, his face caked with blood, and it looked like he was content to hold onto me until one of his teammates came to his rescue. I didn’t have the luxury of time, so I threw a clumsy kick at his groin, making him recoil in defense, and that gave me the opening I needed. I spun to my left, and grabbed his waist from behind and lifted him up in the air. Without warning, I threw him backwards, never letting go, arching my back as far as I could and bending my legs, smashing the back of his head and chest into the ground behind me.

  The impact was a like a compact nuclear warhead, the force wave thundering through the island, and leveling whatever structures remained intact. He groaned, clawing at the ground, but I didn’t stop there. I stepped over a smear of blood from the last impact, and I grabbed him by the midsection again.

  “Motherfucker!” I yelled and raised him one more time. Lifting him high, I used the upwards momentum to leave my feet, hurling myself in the air. Throwing my whole body into the down motion, I slammed him down again, with double the force of the previous blow. I blacked out for a second from the vicious impact, the only thing I could perceive was thundering of the impact through the ground.

  I shook the cobwebs out of my head, scrambling to my feet and reached over for Epic, who was almost motionless. I took a handful of his pretty hair and lifted him to his feet, feeling the ripping of follicles in my hand. I let go, shoving him back away from me. Epic’s arms had dropped to his sides, his legs wobbled as he fought to remain standing.

  I came forward and he tried to punch me, still smiling, but I caught his right arm with my left, and pulling his body towards mine and bracing him for the blow, I threw every ounce of energy, every bit of rage I had left into a right cross that tossed his head almost clean over his left shoulder.

  Epic stumbled away a few steps then back forward in my direction, finally falling to one knee. He slumped toward me, grabbing at my midsection but I just took a step back and let him collapse at my feet.

  * * *

  I looked up and was met with dozens of stunned faces ringing the pit Epic and I had made during our furious fight. They were shocked and appalled because I had just beaten the biggest and toughest badass on the island.

  But I was aching. Bad. My face and back hurt. My shoulders hurt. And now that the fight was over, the agony of every blow overtook me. I climbed out of the ditch, flashing them a bloody smile, and said, “you guys gonna take numbers or something?”

  No one responded.

  I thought of how much more dramatic it would have been to come out of that ditch lifting Epic’s unconscious body and throwing it at the feet of his allies, like I had tossed the alien general before his army on Shard World. But I was too tired and weary for dramatics.

  “Alright,” I sneered in my most menacing tone. “All at once, then.”

  I hadn’t finished taunting them when they attacked. Not all at once, but a few of the more precocious ones, the ones more driven by fame. The first one was a flyer I didn’t recognize, a young guy unaffiliated with Epic’s group, one of the many that had gathered around like an arena as we fought.

  He flew at high speed towards me, rushing in heroic form, with two fists extended outwards to pummel me with. I reared back my right hand, timing it as best I could to match his great speed, and rocked him with a right cross that send him reeling into one of the crushed structures.

  Another attacked me from a flank, and I felt something appear behind me, and in one second, I was surrounded. The guy in the flank was a speedster, whose fists pounded into my side and chest without much strength, but so many times it became hard for me to breathe. The other was some sort of stealther, because he came out of the shadows behind me, wielding a pair of remarkable swords and went to work on me. The weapons couldn’t pierce my skin, nor could his blows hurt me, but he ripped through my clothes and was a nuisance.

  I reached out to grab the speedster, but he dodged me easily. The other guy, the sword guy, tried to parry my grab, but I got his arm and swung him into the speedster. They both collapsed into an unconscious heap.

  A few others were inching towards me, but I halted them with a glare.

  I
took a second to observe the host gathered to attack me. There were twenty or so, most known heroes, and some I didn’t recognize. The explosion had decimated Epic’s crew, but few still remained. Only Superdynamic, Gamma Demon, and Epic himself, of course, were out of commission or missing. In their place were a bunch of newcomers, other heroes whether in smaller groups or solo that had answered the call. Many were looking to make a name for themselves, and what better way than to drop the guy who had beaten Epic.

  Another rushed at me, a dude in a black panther costume with long nasty claws, who I socked back with a back fist that laid him out at my feet.

  Beyond the throng of more aggressive heroes, almost concealed by the smoke and dust, was another group, also a mish-mash of arrivals, but these were more contemplative, and were gathered to discuss strategy. Standing in the middle of the smaller group was Captain Miraculous, with his partner and wife, Bad Karma, standing beside him. For a second, I felt a tingle of joy, knowing that she hadn’t been seriously hurt. None of their other Rising Force companions were present but I was surprised to see Brigade amongst them, as well as several of his adjutants. In fact, most of The Sentinels were gathering in the field behind, assembled around a new drop ship and putting together the eighty foot-tall Mech that Cool Hand had referred to.

  I wished I knew how they had gotten free, but before I could worry about that, I felt something behind me. A dark hooded figure wrapped me in a black shroud that emanated from his cloak and pinned me for the rest of the host of heroes.

  “Let it be known,” the man said in a loud booming voice. “That Blackjack fell to the might of UNDERWORLD!”

  Once he said his name, I knew exactly who he was, and I knew I was in trouble. The guy was a media hound and a fame whore, but he was powerful. I turned on him, ready to crack him one, but the smoke that swirled around me drained and impeded me, and I suddenly felt ill with dread, like world itself was about to end. Everything turned stark white, even the heroes that rushed forward, taking advantage of the situation to pummel me to oblivion. Only I longed for that oblivion, for a release from the cold, dark place where Underworld was taking me.