Author's Preface
“Can’t you control your fucking lightning better, Michael?” asked a man.
“I-I’m sorry,” stuttered Michael. He was on the ground; in the crater his ability had carved. A kick to the stomach. Michael coughed up his spit.
“Do better next time. This session is finished,” said the man as he walked away. Michael lay on the ground, his vision blurry from teary eyes.
“Did I just see red…?” Michael asked himself. He woke up from his nap. “Damn dream,” he told himself, angry.
[…]
“Barry, I see ‘em,” said Andrew, nudging Barry to look his way. “Where?” asked Barry, taking Andrew’s binoculars.
“Just messing with ya, man,” said Andrew.
Barry clicked his tongue, “Fuck off.” The two of them were on top of a ruined building, watching the road to try to spot the trucks.
“What’s Mike doing?” asked Andrew.
“Seems he’s just sitting on a rock staring… at nothing?” replied Barry, “Overseer said anything yet?”
“No,” said Andrew. His phone started ringing. “Speak of the devil,” he said, picking up. “We were just talking about you, G. What are the targets doing? … What? Another group’s ambushing them? … Understood.”
“What’s going on?” asked Barry.
“The heroes are subduing H.A.V.C. We need to hurry,” said Andrew.
Barry nodded and sped to tell Michael about it. Michael seemed tired. It wasn’t like him to be tired. Andrew and Barry approached him.
“Location?” asked Michael.
“A few miles south,” answered Andrew.
“I say we rush and stop the heroes before they get hold of our hard-earned money.”
Michael shook his head.
“The heroes will try to keep the trucks intact. Try not to damage the valuables they may hold. We go now, yes, but we pounce only when the H.A.V.C. goons get their shit rocked.”
Andrew tried to say something, but he noticed Barry shaking his head.
“Alright. We’ll go to the trucks,” agreed Andrew. He didn’t want to let the heroes touch their vehicles, but then again, Michael’s strategy made more sense.
“Wait, where’d he go?”
[…]
Michael zapped through the air, tearing up the sky as he went. Something felt off.
“Focus, you idiot,” he told himself.
He closed his eyes for a second, and the first thing he thought about was the training he did as a kid. The colour of Michael’s lightning was blue, like most. But he could change the power output of his lightning, and it changed colour according to the energy being released. Blue was the most powerful he could control. Stormbringer, the first-ranked hero, is also a lightning user. His lightning, however, is a very light blue, often mistaken for white. It’s a much stronger lightning than whatever Michael can control. He found himself wishing that it was not Stormbringer intercepting H.A.V.C.
[…]
“I think that’s the last of 'em,” said a man.
“Seems like it,” said the other.
They stood amidst two flipped trucks and some of H.A.V.C.’s thugs. One truck was flaming, the container open and empty. The two men were similar. Michael guessed they were related, as he looked from a distance.
One was much older than the other. He had black hair and a few lines of white on his bangs. He was well-built, with muscles visible even from his loose clothing.
The other seemed to follow suit, with short-cut hair and the same loose clothing. They both had well-chiselled faces and dressed in the same murky green colour. He noted that they were the second-ranked hero and the fifth-ranked hero, respectively.
Michael watched the two open the semi-trucks’ containers with sheer force. He wondered why they did that when they could have just as easily used their powers.
Both were Quake users. Michael had seen them erupt stone from the ground to flip the trucks over and to throw H.A.V.C.’s men flying for miles. They walked to the third truck, which was lying on its side.
“No better chance to stop them than now,” said Michael under his breath. He went closer, revealing himself from the rubble where he was hiding. Michael sent a lightning bolt right in front of the two, and they both turned to look at him.
“You leave that cargo right now!” shouted Michael. There was nothing in the two containers they opened, and that meant that the last had the payload.
“Well… if it isn’t Powerhouse!” exclaimed the number two in his hoarse, deep voice. Both heroes were clad in concrete armour formed from their abilities. Michael he couldn’t run away now that he revealed himself. He couldn’t take the number 2 on alone, let alone both of them. Michael grinned lightly as he eyed the number 5, knowing his lack of experience.
The hero shot an annoyed look at Michael due to his silence. “Back off before you get your head kicked in,” the hero threatened. Michael’s hand flickered as the electricity manifested on his fingertips.
Michael lunged at the number two with incredible speed, leaving dust flying. Clenching his fist, he punched the hero with the momentum. The boulder didn’t budge— Michael was going to need a better tactic than simple punches. The hero swung his fist upwards, hitting Michael’s chin.
Michael stumbled back. The number five tried to enclose Michael in four walls of concrete, but Michael managed to jump out of the box before the roof closed completely. Michael looked around for the number five, noticing that he was less armoured than his father.
“Having a hard time, Powerhouse?” mocked the number two, grinning. Michael wasn’t fazed by his provocation. He wondered how he could beat them knowing this. He was a little rusty from not having fought a strong opponent for half a year.
Michael turned his attention to the number five, his armour favouring mobility. “You know, sonny, against me, you should have followed your father,” provoked Michael as he emitted electricity from his body. “Strong armour’s better than speed.” Michael put his palm on the road. No matter the medium, a surge of energy large enough is sure to destroy it.
The road blew up under the number five. He fell to the ground. Michael jumped and pushed against the wall, shooting forward. He immediately went into a kick. The number five’s neck met Michael’s foot, and the boy coughed blood. Michael kicked him a second time, in the face. The boy stopped moving. He fell unconscious.
Michael ducked as the number two went for his head. He couldn’t do anything against him without a weapon. Michael evaded all the hero’s punches. Left, right, duck. With each hook, a pillar emerged from the ground. Michael was getting tired.
Flames roared. Michael looked up.
“Firefly!” he shouted.
Barry had come to help him. Dangling on his left foot was Andrew.
“Move!” shouted Andrew.
Michael jumped backwards. With astonishing speed, a spear etched itself into the asphalt between Michael and the hero. Andrew appeared before him. Bone plating stemming from his neck covered his face. Bone covered his limbs, originating from said limbs.
“Leave this rock bitch to us, Powerhouse,” Andrew said. The hero walked backwards.
“Of course, you cowardly villains team up against a singular hero,” he provoked once more. The hero grabbed his son, slinging him onto his shoulder.
“Hear me, Black Flag!” shouted the hero, “You will soon fall!” Barry pointed his hand towards him, the metal tube under it still smouldering. Andrew drew his bone blades.
“Scram!” Barry shouted. The hero didn’t need to hear it twice. He started running, patting his son’s back.
[…]
Michael grabbed his side. It ached. The hero had managed to land a hit on him. Andrew was panting from putting the money truck on its wheels.
“Do we flip the other two?” he asked.
“Guess we should,” Barry said.
“We each drive one,” Michael added.
“They aren’t terribly damaged, are they?” he asked.
“No, but this is the third time in a row that H.A.V.C.’s fucked with our shit,” Andrew said, annoyed. He turned to flip a second truck on its wheels to take his mind off H.A.V.C.
“Andrew’s right,” Barry agreed, “It’s time we get rid of our competitors.” The second truck bounced and squeaked as it stood again.
“Damn Mimic,” Andrew muttered. “Fly a damn plane through his damn building, I tell you!” he shouted. Andrew punched the truck.
“Calm down, hotshot, those trucks are expensive,” said Barry. “In any case, Mike,” Barry leaned against the money truck. “We need to either annihilate H.A.V.C. or cripple them. Killing Mimic is the vital step in both of those options.”
Michael sighed. He had been putting off fighting H.A.V.C. because he didn’t know where their headquarters were.
“Their damn acronym doesn’t even have all the words of their full title!” Andrew shouted as he heaved the last truck on its wheels.
“Michael,” Andrew walked towards the two, “We finally found something to strive for after two years of doing nothing. We need to fuck Mimic so hard that he either kills himself of embarrassment or gives up,” he said, full of rage.
Neither Michael nor Barry knew why exactly he was so angry. “Now I have to drive for thirteen more hours!” Andrew shouted.
Michael sighed with a deprecating smile. “Let’s go back, boys,” he said, “We’ve got a money issue to fix.”