Authors: Tom Reynolds
"I don't care if you buy it or not. These things are tuned to work with whoever is wearing them. They might be more advanced than anything you've ever seen, but they're still going to dumb themselves down to something you'd understand," she says.
"Is that a crack at me?" I say.
Whoops. That time I actually
did
yell loud enough to attract the attention of the bad guys. The bad guys who I'm just noticing now have machine guns. Double whoops. If Iris was annoyed with me before, she's gotta be downright pissed at me now.
"You really are an idiot," she turns to me to say, "now go!"
She leaps off the roof of the three-story building we are perched on and springs into action, quickly dispensing two of the armored thugs closest to us before they, or more importantly, any of the others, notice. Iris waves impatiently for me to follow her. I leap down from our perch and follow her behind one of the trucks, careful to stay out of the lights attached to the corners of the buildings, which are illuminating the previously empty lot, which now has no less than a dozen trucks idling in it.
We peer around the corner of one of the trucks and see two groups of men talking. I focus on them and can hear their conversation clear as a bell, even though they're easily at least a hundred feet away. There's a large ship docked nearby where there also appears to be some activity on deck. Whatever is happening between these two groups, it's quickly obvious that they are smuggling
something
between the ship and these tractor-trailers.
A suitcase is exchanged and one of the men signals for the other men on the ship to begin loading the shipping containers using a crane.
"Dammit," Iris says, "I thought we were going to have a little more time. So much for the stealth plan."
"Wait, what does that mean 'so much for the stealth plan'?" I begin to ask, but before I can finish my sentence Iris is running full force towards the closest man with a gun. She jumps into him feet first, wrapping her legs around his neck as she twists her body and flips him head over heels. He barely has time to realize he's hit the ground before a right hook knocks him unconscious.
"Kill them!" Someone yells. It doesn't really matter who, because whoever it is, everyone else seems to be going along with his idea. Bullets start flying everywhere and it's time for me to quit being a sitting duck.
As I sprint into the melee, I notice that I'm not moving as quickly as I had previously. Time is still slowed down around me, but whereas before time appeared to stop completely, now everything just seems to be playing back at half speed. It doesn't matter though, I'm still dispatching these guys before most of them even have a chance to realize what's happening. Without my power turned up all the way, I'm able to punch, kick and headbutt with all my might, knowing that at best, I'll knock out or otherwise incapacitate someone, rather than well, decapitate them.
I'm starting to understand why Midnight does this. It's kinda fun. Actually it's a lot of fun. Within thirty seconds, we've dispatched at least two dozen henchmen (real life actual henchmen!) and secured the dock. I'm not sure if it's the metabands enhancing my adrenaline, but I've never felt so alive in my life as I hunch over, hands on knees, catching my breath. Midnight was right, I am out of shape. Having the dampeners enabled on these metabands is making that very obvious.
"That was incredible," I say to Iris, in between gasps for breath. She turns to me and gives a coy smile. She doesn't want to admit it, but she's impressed. At least a little bit.
"Come on, let's get these containers open and find out what was so valuable in here that these guys were willing to kill us over it," she says as she turns to grab the handle of the nearest storage container.
Even with my powers turned down, I hear the click of the gun and my reaction is instant. One of the thugs has momentarily regained consciousness. I thought we had kicked all of their guns out of reach, but obviously we missed at least one.
The trigger is pulled, and I'm already moving before the sound of the explosion reaches my ears. I can see the bullet and the contrail behind it as it moves from the end of the barrel of the gun directly for the back of Iris' skull. If her metabands are turned down far enough to the point that her punches won't kill a person, then they're turned down to the point where a bullet to the head would probably kill her. It doesn't matter if I'm right or not, because it's a chance I'm not willing to take.
Catching the bullet with my hand isn't as hard as I thought it would be. Even though I'm not able to slow down time as much as I was with these things turned up all the way, I can still get to the bullet before it gets to the back of Iris' head. The hard part is hanging onto it. It wants to pull free of my grip as it flies through the air, and if it can't do that, then it wants to go through it. I can feel bones in my hand snapping long before the sound travels to my ears. Every muscle in my hand is screaming in pain and wants to let go, relax, but I won't let them.
I'm on the ground a few feet from where I started, but the bullet is safely in my bloodied hand. The would-be assassin's gun clicks twice more. Empty. Iris turns in shock and looks down at me with concern.
"I'm fine," I grunt.
Her gaze moves from me to the shooter, and her expression turns from concern to rage. She thrusts out both of her arms and I see the meters on her metabands light up like a Christmas tree. Full power.
"Iris, no," I say.
It's too late though. She's already marching towards the shooter. His right leg is broken (pretty sure that was my doing earlier), and he's trying in vain to crawl away from her. It's no use of course. He's whimpering.
I drop the bullet that's still in my gloved hand and again yell to Iris. My entire arm is killing me, but I thrust it out to my side along with the other one, just as Iris had seconds before. The lights on my metabands begin their climb.
Iris has grabbed the thug by his throat and lifts him into the air. His feet are dangling a foot above the ground as he struggles to try to pull free from the fingers wrapped around his neck.
His eyes are just starting to do that thing where they lose focus and glaze over, when Iris is tackled from behind. By me. The man is knocked loose and falls away from both of us.
"What the hell are you doing?" Iris yells at me as we crash into a nearby warehouse wall.
"What am I doing? What the hell are you doing? You were going to kill that man in cold blood!" I scream back.
"After he tried to kill me!" she yells as she pushes me off of her.
"But he didn't. I stopped him. He's a thug. You're not. You're supposed to be better than him," I plead.
"You've been spending too much time with that Boy Scout. The real world isn't that cut and dry, pal. You think the world is going to mourn the death of some scumbag? Some piece of garbage who's going to do five years of time and then be back on the street murdering for whoever pays the highest dollar?" she asks me.
"That doesn't give you the right to play executioner," I say.
"Do you even know what we were stopping tonight? Do you? Go ahead, you've got your powers turned up all the way now. I'm sure you've got X-ray vision in there,
Omni
. Take a look inside those crates," she orders me.
I turn and look at the crates. I haven't tried to look through anything yet, but considering the list of abilities I've already figured out I possess, the idea of being able to see through steel isn't farfetched. I concentrate on the crates and can see inside them. They're full of people. Lots of people. Not just any people. Women. Not even women; girls.
"What is this?" I ask.
"What do you think it is? It's human trafficking. That's what these people that you think deserve our mercy are doing. Buying and selling slaves," she says to me.
There's nothing for me to say back in response. Maybe she's right. Maybe that man did deserve to die. All I know is that there's no coming back from that decision. There's no way to reverse it if we're wrong. It's not a decision for either of us to make.
The wail of sirens looms in the distance. Someone called the cops. Probably someone who heard the gunshot that almost took Iris' life.
"Dammit," she says, "we need to get out of here."
"Great, running from the cops now, too?" I reply.
"No, avoiding more trouble. What do you think is going to happen if the cops get here and report that there are not one, but two metas on the scene over a police channel? Oh, and a whole bunch of innocent victims still crammed into shipping containers. You think that's an opportunity to reek absolute havoc that The Controller is going to turn down?" She explains.
Iris is right of course, and without another word, both of us shoot straight up into the air before the police arrive. Once we're above the cloud line we slow to a stop and hover. It's quiet between us for a moment before she speaks.
"Look," she starts, "back there. I'm sorry about that. You're right. I lost my cool. I know I act like I'm some expert on all of this stuff, but the truth is I've been at it just as long as you have. I've never come that close to someone killing me..."
She doesn't seem finished, so I let the moment hang there.
"...and it scared the hell out of me," she says.
"Believe me, I know" I tell her, "The past few weeks alone I've already had at least two separate incidents where I was absolutely sure I was about to die. It's not fun."
This at least gets a smile from her.
"And another thing" she starts, "thank you. You saved my life and you did it selflessly. I owe you one."
And with that she leans in and kisses me briefly on the lips. Holy hell. Everything feels like it's spinning, and I feel like I'm floating. Well, I mean I am floating. Pretty high up too, but you know what I mean.
"See ya around," Iris says. And with that, she heads east in a blur of black and purple. I just hover there for a moment, bathed in the blue and red lights of the police cars and ambulances lighting the clouds beneath me. Turns out maybe this whole metahuman thing has its perks after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
"What the hell are you smiling about?" Jim asks.
I've just gotten into work the next day and I can't stop thinking about last night. I'm not even used to the idea that I'm now a metahuman, and in one night I get to beat up bad guys, save someone's life
and
get kissed by a girl, no I'm sorry, not just any girl, a freakin' superhero? It's hard to wipe the smirk off of my face, even when clocking in for my job which consists of cleaning toilets and garbage for basically minimum wage.
"I know that smirk," Jim says. "That's the 'something happened last night with a girl', smirk."
"Nooooo," I say.
Damn. Jim knows me too well. At this rate, he's going to find out I'm Omni by the afternoon.
"Come on, I'm not that stupid. Details! Details!" he goads me.
"Ohhh, details about what?" I hear behind me. It's Sarah, who's just come around the corner of the ticket booth behind me.
"
Something
happened between Connor and a girl last night, but he won't give up any of the details," Jim tells her.
Ugh. No. This is the last thing I want. Wait. Is that a look of disappointment on Sarah's face?
"Oh, really?" she asks.
"No. Nothing happened. Jim's just jumping to conclusions because I happen to be in a good mood for no reason this morning," I say.
"Bull," Jim shoots back.
I turn to him and glare. He knows better than anyone else in the world how hard of a crush I have on Sarah. Regardless of what he thinks did or did not happen last night, it obviously did not happen with Sarah, so he should realize by now to shut his damn mouth.
"Fine. I believe you. Ugh, you're so boring Connor," Jim says. I'm not sure if he's playing along or genuinely losing interest in this line of questioning, but I don't really care.
"Boring isn't necessarily bad," Sarah interjects.
Is that flirting? Why can't I tell if that is flirting or not?
"All right boys, I've gotta go up on stand. Have fun," she says as she walks away towards the lakefront.
"We get to throw garbage around all day, how could we not!" Jim says to her back as she walks away. He then pulls me in close.
"Okay, seriously though: what happened?" he asks in a hushed tone.
"I told you, nothing happened. If something happened, happens, is happening, whatever, I promise you that you'll be the first person to know, all right?" I tell him.
"Well hopefully not the
first
person. Hopefully the third after you and the girl. Oh, or maybe fourth if there's two girls..." he says.
"All right, that's enough. Come on, I'm in a good mood and I'd like Jeff not to ruin that for me for one day. Let's go."