Overpowered (Powered Trilogy #2)

by Cheyanne Young

  Max lifts an eyebrow when I come back in the living room. “What the hell happened to your sleeve?”

  I flash him a wink before I slip out the door. “I fixed it.”

  The KAPOW zooms me to Jackson Square, a park in the heart of Louisiana. I ignore the pedestrians’ curious looks as I exit the ramp and run, following the blue blinking dot on my BEEPR two blocks north into the heart of New Orleans on Bourbon Street. Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo has quite a crowd in front of it. My mission simply reads: Human fight club. Dissolve. Issue safety warning.

  It’s not defeating villains or anything, but I’ll take it.

  No one recognizes me when I approach the intersection where at least a dozen shirtless guys have gathered in the middle of the street. Dozens more onlookers crowd around, cheering and booing each other. I lace my fingers together in front of my chest, crack my knuckles and release a wave of power that pulses through the air, knocking humans to the ground.

  All but the two humans in the center of the circle collapse.

  Now I have their attention.

  The fighters appear to be in their twenties. One is covered in tattoos and blood and the other, just blood. “I am Hero Maci Might and I’ve come to put a stop to this.”

  The tattooed guy spits out a mouthful of blood. “This don’t concern you.”

  A woman in a tiny miniskirt and tube top tries to scramble up from the asphalt but I hold out a hand and knock her back down with a small burst of power. “Actually it does concern me. Because my job is to protect humans. You can’t just go around beating each other up for the fun of it.”

  “That’s all it is,” the bloody guy says. “It’s just fun. We ain’t hurting nobody that don’t want to fight.”

  In a weird way, I might actually agree with him. If everyone is a willing participant in this game of beating each other up, why should Heroes care about it? Unfortunately for him, this is my first mission and I’m going to successfully complete it. “Sorry gentlemen, this isn’t allowed. You’re on public property and you’re endangering innocent bystanders.” Ignoring the indignant groans around me, I step into the center of the crowd and appraise everyone. “I’m assuming everyone without a shirt is involved? I need you guys to line up and scan your thumbs.”

  Scanning their thumb print on my BEEPR will register them in the system and alert us to any repeat offenders. Supers don’t directly punish humans except for extreme circumstances. We save lives, prevent loss, issue a severe warning and then hand their info over to the human police officers.

  Most humans obey the laws after receiving an up close and personal warning from a Hero.

  Tattoo guy spits at my feet. Guess he’s stupider than he looks. I hook my depowered hand around his elbow and flip him to the ground. Only he doesn’t fall to the ground. He doesn’t do much of anything.

  I falter for a fraction of a second and then go after him with my left hand. This time he shifts on his feet but he doesn’t fall. Power streams out of my fingertips in frustration. Several humans cry out in discomfort from the power but the two men in front of me just smirk. Tightening my grip on his elbow, I swing my foot underneath his in my third attempt to take him to the ground. Instead of watching his kneecap give out, he lets out a snort of laughter and high-fives his friend while remaining firmly on his feet.

  What in the hell is going on here? Humans are not this strong. I logged one hundred and eighty hours of droid training to properly prepare for safe handling of humans because their bodies are so fragile. But this bastard just remained standing when I swiped his leg with enough pressure that should have sent him crashing to his knees, crying out in pain and begging for mercy.

  “This is a formal request to stop resisting my orders.” I request backup on my BEEPR before holding out my wrist to the still laughing man. “I need your thumbprint.”

  He folds his arms across his chest. “Bite me.”

  Anger boils up inside of me. Deep and guttural, from a place I try very hard to keep buried. I’ll really regret this if I can’t hold back my rage, but not nearly as much as he will. “This is your last warning.” I peer at the guy’s bloodied friend so he knows I’m talking to him as well. “Severe injury will occur if you refuse. I need your thumbprints and your cooperation immediately.”

  “Sure thing, boss lady. But first I need you to kiss my ass because I’m not doing a thing you say.”

  Bloody friend nods. “We ain’t scared of you.”

  I can’t help it when I burst out laughing. Humans are completely insane. More than enough witnesses are present to back me up when I inevitably get summoned to appear before the Elders for mistreatment of humans. So I draw in a sharp breath and release it in a torrential outburst of power, ready to unleash all of my pent up anger on these two idiots.

  If their bones happen to go splintering through their skin, well they can’t say I didn’t warn them.

  Tattoo guy dives in front of his friend, his eyes thirsting for a good fight. I tackle him to the ground, shove my knee into his crotch and slam his cheek onto the pavement when he tries to bite me. He yells some kind of code word to his friend but while he’s distracted, I press his thumb to my BEEPR and then slap him across the face with his own hand just for good measure.

  A steel-toed boot slams into the back of my skull, sending my vision into shards of blurred lines for a second. When I recover, I’m being pinned to the ground by the dual efforts of the fighters. I can’t believe my own freaking eyes when I have to struggle to pull out of their grasp. How are these humans so inhumanely strong?

  The crowd recovers from their stunned silence. Cheers roar out and bets are placed as I fight the men off me, kicking and punching and even digging my nails into a throat before I’m shoved back again. The entire scene on Bourbon Street is exactly the same as when I arrived, only now I’m the target of their little fight club. A bead of sweat breaks out across my forehead as I twist one of the guy’s wrist inward, making him collapse under his own body weight. My right hand is nothing more than a useless limb as it feebly tries to defend against the tattooed man’s jab into my ribcage.

  I’m losing.

  I’m fighting two humans and I’m losing.

  Their bones don’t break as easily as they should. I rip out a handful of messy hair from one of the men attacking me and he cries out in anger instead of pain. I told him he would be sorry, and now he will be. I slip a Retriever hook from my sleeve. Hopefully this doesn’t kill him but if it does--well, I’ll worry about that later.

  The man’s new bald spot reflects a stream of sweat and blood in the neon lights of the French Quarter as his body goes completely rigid. My hook flies with complete accuracy and lands an inch deep into his muscular gut.

  A few onlookers scream in terror. The crowd shrinks back. My other attacker shoves his hands into his pockets. I’m slightly out of breath now as I approach him, ready to accept his surrender and take his thumb print. My right arm throbs in pain. I’ve never experienced pain for so long before. A soft crinkle of shattering glass has him smiling. His eyes close and he looks completely blissful for a fraction of a second.

  He charges toward me.

  A flash of inhuman power fills his eyes.

  A soft jolt of another Hero’s power lets me know backup has finally arrived on the KAPOW. They should be here any second. If I duck out of the way then this psycho will crash into the onlookers and I can’t risk harm to any humans. So I brace myself for impact.

  His fist slams into my jaw, breaking the bone. It heals a few seconds later, but holy crap that hurt. I shove my pointy elbow right into his jugular, bearing down with all my weight as I hover on top of him. With each second that passes, his resistance lightens up until, a minute later when I feel the presence of two incoming backup Heroes, he’s not resisting at all. It’s as if he’s gone back to being a regular human. Tears pour of out his eyes and he writhes in convulsions. His hand reaches up, not in another attempt to swing at me, but as an offering in the fo
rm of his thumb.

  I press it to my BEEPR and climb off of him. He’s so weakened now, I know he won’t get back up.

  Heroes Ernesto and Katia approach, surveying the scene as the humans huddle together on the opposite side of the street. They’re much older than I am so I’ve never worked with them before. Ernesto’s BEEPR shines a laser beam across the entire crowd, taking high definition images of the witnesses. I should have remembered to do that. Ugh.

  “I am Hero Ernesto. Everyone is to remain right where you are until I give you further notice.”

  Katia approaches me with her arm outstretched. I shake her hand. “Maci, good to see you. This is one hell of a scene. I can’t wait for you to explain it.”

  “The shirtless guys had some kind of a fight club going on in the middle of the street. I intervened, these two were belligerent, and I had to take them down.”

  “Did you hook a human?” Ernesto cries. He drops to his knees next to the tattooed guy, feels for a pulse, and calls for human emergency medical services.

  “Trust me, he deserved it. I don’t know what’s going on with them, but they attacked me with inhuman strength.” I expect to get a disbelieving look from the senior Heroes, maybe even an accusing comment about my infamous anger problem. What happens is the exact opposite.

  “¡Dios mío,” Ernesto mutters. “Not again.”

  My dreams are an assortment of nightmares that segway into more nightmares. At some point I become aware that I’m dreaming and force myself to wake up. The momentary comfort of opening my eyes to view the starry night outside is quickly replaced with fear.

  Someone is watching me.

  With lightning speed, I leap out of bed and turn to face my attacker head on.

  Evan almost jumps out of his skin. “Jesus, Maci. Turn off your crazy eyes. It’s just me.”

  I collapse into frenzied giggles and sit back on my bed, knees first. “What are you doing here? You can’t just crawl into a Hero’s bed without permission. I almost hurt you.”

  He clasps his fingers together behind his head and sinks into my pillow. “The other version of you passed out on the couch and Max snores like crazy in his room so I had no other choice.”

  “Ah, so it had nothing to do with you wanting to be next to me?” I poke him in the ribs.

  “Of course not.”

  “My dad would kill you if he knew you were here.”

  He wiggles his eyebrows. “Good thing he doesn’t.”

  I lie back down on my bed, snuggling my face against Evan’s chest. A girl could totally get used to this. “So what happened at Central?” I ask as we gaze out the glass wall at the moonlit canyon around us.

  He sighs. I think he’s trying to figure out his answer before he speaks. “They questioned me a lot. Asked me every possible thing they could think of about my work and Research and Felix. It was so freaking exhausting.”

  “Were they jerks about it?”

  “Not really. I wasn’t locked in a dungeon or anything. Interim President Havoc even stopped by to talk to me.”

  “What did he want?” I ask, suddenly missing my dad. Hugo Havoc is Dad’s best friend. I can only hope he’s doing a decent job as his temporary replacement.

  Evan’s fingers trace my hair from my head down to the tips. It makes me feel like a fat house cat being scratched behind the ears. “He wanted to know everything about my DNA research.”

  I stiffen. “No need to worry,” he says. “I didn’t say a word about you.”

  “How romantic,” I tease. “You committed perjury for me.”

  “Guess that makes us an official couple,” Evan says with a yawn. “I hope you don’t mind that I have no plans to leave this bed for another eight hours or so. I haven’t slept in days.”

  I wrap my arm around his stomach and hug him tightly. “I have no plans to leave, either.”

  In a crazy twist of ironic fate, my Hero alarm goes off. Evan snorts when I reluctantly climb out of bed. He leans over and slaps me on the butt. “Go get em’ Hero.”

  Nyx stands with crossed arms and an impatient tight-lipped frown on his face when I arrive at the blue dot on my BEEPR. We’re at the main offices in Central where the elders and retired Heroes work boring desk jobs. My mission simply reads: Wait until further notice.

  “Are you here for the mission, too?” I ask him. He nods. Nyx is a year older than I am. At about my height, he’s short for a guy but he makes up for that with his fierce features that a lot of girls find super sexy. His silky white hair swoops in front of his eyes and he shakes it to the side. For the record, I don’t think he’s all that hot. Probably because of all the years I spent training in SLAM with him. He’s more of a brother to me than a lust object.

  I’m excited to work with him, no matter how lame this mission might be. Nyx Nightly has an incredible talent of being able to get around without making a single sound. The guy can leap from fifty-foot high buildings and land quieter than a moth. He is the absolute worst person to volunteer at the annual Halloween haunted house they set up in the Atrium. He’ll scare you every time.

  “Do missions usually make you come to Central first?” I ask. I wonder if he’s always been this agitated while on a mission. He’s outgoing and fun while training in SLAM.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know what to expect from missions anymore. It’s like every villain just straight up disappeared when that bitch died.” I’m assuming he means Aurora. Looks like I picked a boring time to turn sixteen and get my Hero status.

  My BEEPR lights up with a new message from Evan. It’s no fun without you. Going home to get a start on my research. Miss you.

  I reply I miss you too. Nyx lifts an eyebrow and I wipe the stupid love-sick expression off my face before he has time to say anything.

  Crimson whips around the corner, slowing to a jog and then a walk when she sees us. Her silky maroon Hero suit glistens from the overhead lights, highlighting all of her gorgeous features. She frowns just like Nyx. “Ugh, I was hoping for a full on villain attack or something,” she says, running her hands through her wind-blown platinum blonde hair in an attempt to tame it. “I never get called to Central for a mission. I was afraid villains had broken in again,” she says, winking at me. “And by afraid, I mean, hoping.” She cracks her knuckles against her palm. “Things are too boring around here lately.”

  Nyx lets out a sigh that lasts for a good thirty seconds and leans his back against the wall. This tiny hallway is just crackling with energy from our trio of power. Unfortunately, mine is the only power that’s still excited. It’s my second mission, after all.

  Our wait is over when an older Super with silver hair opens her office door and invites us inside. She introduces herself as Bonnie Bloom, a senior level Mission Specialist. For an official mission with a Hero alarm and everything, she doesn’t seem to be in a rush. She offers us a seat in front of her massive mahogany desk, but we all choose to stand.

  “You three will work in tandem with Hero Max Might on this mission,” she begins, setting down three holographic disks in a row on her desk. With a wave of her hand, they flicker on and display three Barbie-doll sized holographs of Supers I don’t recognize. My eyes light up at how freaking cool this is and I glance at Crimson, hoping to share in the excitement. She isn’t paying attention to me; she’s all business. She flicks the holograph in front of her and it zooms in on the man’s face.

  Bonnie holds out a black device and taps it to our BEEPRS one by one, loading it up with confidential information. “Four Supers have gone missing this week, each one leaving behind no trace. Max has already been briefed on George Goodfellow, but I urge all of you to look for each missing Super, not just assign yourself to one.” She points to the first holograph of a man about my brother’s age. “Corey London, age twenty-one. He works in food service and hasn’t shown up for work all week. Li Guo, age forty-six. Divorced with no living relatives. He ran one of those comic book kiosks in King City and hasn’t been seen in seventy-two
hours.”

  “I remember that guy,” Nyx says, nudging the middle holograph with his finger to get a zoomed in look at the peace sign tattoo on Li’s forearm. “He wrote fan fiction about me. About had a heart attack when I signed one of his comic books for him.”

  Bonnie gazes solemnly at the third holograph. A tiny teenage girl with floor-length golden hair stares blankly at us. “This is Mara Moone. She’s fifteen. We lost both of her parents in a villain attack when she was a toddler. She’s been from foster home to foster home, usually running away or begging us to move her somewhere else when she didn’t get along with her foster siblings. Of all the missing Supers, this one is the only one who makes sense. She’s prone to running away, however, her current foster mother says she was doing really well and even had a boyfriend.”

  “Who’s the boyfriend? I’d like to question him,” Crimson says.

  Bonnie shrugs. “The foster mom didn’t know. We’ve searched her things, but again, there’s no evidence.”

  Crimson’s eyebrows knit together. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll just speak with every teenager in her class or social circle. Should be easy to find.”

  Bonnie nods. “Please review the files I’ve loaded to your BEEPRs. Each of you take a holo-disk; they all have the four profiles of the missing persons on them. Examine them carefully, both alone and together. Let’s bring our people back home, okay?”

  Nyx’s fingers clasp around the back of the mahogany chair in front of him. “This is a Retriever’s job.” He makes a point of looking at her loyalty award plaques on the office wall. “Surely someone who’s worked in Mission Control for nine decades would know to assign this task to the Retrievers.”

  Bonnie’s reply is quick. “Surely a Hero with accolades such as yourself would know that I wouldn’t summon Heroes until Retriever efforts have been exhausted beyond all means. This is no longer a task. It is a mission. If you feel you are not capable of executing this mission then I am happy to assign someone else.”