Turns out, being launched into the air via a gas-powered shockwave made Ryan more than just the convenient distraction that his people desperately needed to escape.

It made him a target. An irresistible one.

Truth be told, he had known that going in. He’d prepared for that. At least, as well as anyone can prepare to dive headlong into an entrenched enemy force. Ryan just hadn’t prepared to be intercepted mid-air by a giant, semi-translucent and somehow perfectly solid wall appearing in front of him as if his life were suddenly a roadrunner cartoon.

Some days were just interesting like that.

Ryan slammed head first into the structure with explosive speed. Only the fact that he’d moved his kinetic skin to protect his head and neck immediately after the blast prevented his skull from bursting like a ripe cantaloupe. Thanks to the absorption, the crash hadn’t hurt anything upstairs, a fact for which he was immensely grateful. It hadn’t, however, prevented the rest of his body - still moving at high speed - from crumpling into the wall next to his face.

Apparently, an object in motion stayed in pain.

Before he had time to process what just happened, the editor plummeted to the ground, gravity rearing its ugly head. Ryan flailed about as he fell, pushing against the wind and trying to position the duffel bag between himself and the pavement. It was difficult, but with his increased dexterity and the mobility it offered him, his fingers were more nimble than they’d ever been.

Just before slamming into the street, Ryan was able to get it folded and under his shoulder. The bag landed with barely a sound. His body crumpling over his shoulder once more. As impacts go, it was still just as jarring as all sudden deceleration events were, but he didn’t break anything. That was a bit surprising, and he wondered if his new constitution had actually made his body more resilient. He must’ve been at least fifty or sixty feet up. Which begged the question…

What the hell did I hit? Ryan wondered. Confused, his eyes darted around for whichever super was responsible for the ACME act.

Not thirty yards away, a man and a woman dressed in expensive business attire sauntered - literally sauntered - up the street towards him. Both were saying… something.The arrogance in their posture presumably went well with whatever speech the pair had prepared… but Ryan’s ears hadn’t yet recovered from his home made launchpad. High pitched ringing was about all he could make out.

Since they were wasting time talking instead of attacking, Ryan decided to use the lull to activate his own power. There was no point in negotiating, even if they’d wanted to. What he’d seen in the hospital. All of the patient’s he’d helped heal. Not to mention whatever had shaken Lucas so badly in the basement… That had pretty much been the death of Ryan’s sympathy for anyone on Marcus’ side. Assuming they weren’t under some kind of control, that is.

With a mental call of ‘For Pony!’ Ryan activated his power, scanning both the approaching pair and some of the gunmen to see what he was up against. He'd realized by now that most superpowers seemed to come with some level of restriction. Even if they didn’t, knowing the specifics of how his foes’ powers worked was something he had exploited before. It gave him an edge. And with his escape now most likely cut off, he’d need every advantage he could get to fight his way out.

Name: Bradley Oxford

Superpower: Object Manifestation (Additive): Grants the capability to create simple objects that the user can envision. Range of creation, complexity of creation, object characteristics, and object duration are limited by the user’s energy capacity. Objects formed can be made of nearby materials for a reduced cost. Created objects can be dismissed at any time, and will return to their constituent parts when the user’s energy runs out.

Mental Status: Calm

Name: Charity Oxford

Superpower: Spatial Lock (Objects): Grants the capability to lock non-living matter to a fixed point in space. Forces that attempt to move the object drain the user’s energy instead of moving it. The user may selectively allow certain forces, though any that would exceed the user’s energy capacity are unaffected.

Mental Status: Heightened Tension, Fear

Name: Paul Lively

Superpower: Duplication (Simple): Grants the capability to create a number of simple copies of oneself, each at a much reduced mental and physical capacity, up to total energy capacity. Duplicates can be reabsorbed, but not their memories. Damage taken reduces energy returned from absorbed duplicates. Lost duplicates permanently decrease energy capacity until reabsorbed. Each active duplicate currently costs 76 (total of all attributes) points of energy.

Mental Status: Dazed

Not… too many restrictions to work with there. But if none of them are being influenced… that means I can take the gloves off.

The last of them, Paul, was the result Ryan had gotten for every one of the gunmen from earlier. Most were in various states of broken mess on the ground. A few had managed to take shelter from the blast. Some were looking around, for Ryan or their weapons he was pretty sure. The rest were dazed, holding their ears or other injuries. Which meant Paul was pretty much out of the equation for now.

At least I don't have fifty-some supers to fight. Only two. Two and a half? Two and… fifty halves? That’s not so bad. Ryan consoled himself. A horde of gunmen on one side and the tetris twins on the other, the situation only looked hopeless. It was perfectly survivable.

He just had to keep telling himself that.

Ryan couldn't tell which was the original Paul. Which meant he probably wouldn’t be able to take him down. At least not permanently. But from the looks of it, given the "much reduced" mental and physical capacity the Paul duplicates were supposed to have… the main one should be easy to spot.

In fact, now that he looked at it, Ryan could see the scrawny arms and legs most of the gunmen had. Half of them still looked sort of stupefied as they glanced around, too. Though between the explosion and McCarthy's gas bomb that might just be normal. Regardless, none of the remaining gunmen were aiming rifles in the editor's direction anymore.

Which suited him just fine. It left him free to deal with the other two. The ones conveniently in the way of his escape. The ones most likely to actually stop him, given that they already had once. The ones conveniently getting closer to him. Clones or not, Paul wasn’t much of a threat to Ryan once the bullets stopped. The editor could outrun or out fight someone who only multiplied, and he would eventually run out of ammo.

It was powers with creative uses - like his own - that were dangerous.

Ryan returned his gaze to the 'Oxfords'. They didn’t look all that dangerous. Like a pair of bankers out for lunch. Though Charity didn’t like the sort of woman anyone would willingly hand money to… she definitely looked the sort who knew how to spend it. Ryan paused at that, trying to shake some equilibrium back into his head. He was getting off track. With everything going on the world hadn’t quite stopped spinning yet either. It made it hard to think.

The Oxfords must have been some distance away when they saw him, but they were getting closer now and had stopped monologuing. The woman made a dismissive gesture with her hand and a sadistic smile slid across her face as she did.

That expression, coupled with what he now knew of her power, put a sinking feeling in Ryan’s stomach. He knew what he would do in her position. tetris, indeed. Without even looking up, he quickly rolled over to his back, stretching the duffel bag across his chest. Putting it between himself and the sky. He may not have been able to see what was coming, but he would sure as hell feel it if he didn't move.

His hunch was right on target, his roll was… less so.

The semi-translucent wall that had stopped him earlier came crashing down from the sky. It landed at an odd angle with crushing force. He got lucky, the block of… whatever it was very nearly flattened him. It slammed into the bag, crunched the top of Ryan's foot, and cracked the curb. Thankfully, the majority of its momentum was absorbed by his makeshift shield, but that had still only stopped a corner of its bulk. The rest slammed into the pavement and bounced the whole thing back up over itself. It tumbled away from Ryan, cracking a large section of the street when it did.

Fear-fueled fury rose within him. Did this bitch just try to pancake me?!

A flood of near-death adrenaline surged through Ryan. He was not about to die to a game of tetris after surviving a literal Call of Duty one-man charge! The very idea was offensive to the gamer still inside of him. Ryan reached one hand into his bag and drained all of the stored energy from the material. It was... more than he’d expected. Turns out explosions were a great source of energy.

Would you like to absorb 316 points of energy? Yes, or no?

Ryan absorbed the energy, then stumbled to his feet. He would've preferred making some badass single movement out of it, but his sense of balance was still relatively shot. And his right foot didn't seem to be moving the way it should. In fact, his shoe looked to be about half of its normal size. Which is when his brain realized what was wrong and began informing him of it. Pain like a burning fire roared up his leg.

The pain brought a sudden clarity to him. The ringing in his ears was still fairly debilitating. It was time to stop ignoring his injuries. He'd need to be able to hear if his opponents kept trying to tetris him. Not to mention move.

Ryan activated his power and cleared both "deafened" and "crushed foot" from his list of negative status conditions. A dull pop later, sound came rushing back to him. It was costly… but relief flooded through him as the pain signals vanished just as quickly as they’d arrived. Worth it. Definitely worth it.

No matter how many times Ryan healed himself, it was still jarring to go from blinding pain one moment to perfectly fine the next. Not to mention the strange sensation of his foot pushing out of itself as it regrew. It was such an unnerving feeling that it made him take half a step back and wiggle his toes. All fine. He thought. Just don’t think about what the inside of my shoe looks like…

A sudden movement caught his eye. Bradley was bringing his hands together as if gripping something between them. Pavement rose up from the street around Ryan, swirling around him and covering him up to the chest. Ryan kept his expression calm, despite the anger still inside. He didn’t resist or try to move out of it. Not when the pavement crawled up his legs, nor when it wrapped his arms to his chest.

A beat later, the female Oxford reached out a hand and Ryan could feel the gravel... stiffen. It was hard to describe. Like being held in sand that had suddenly turned into a block of ice. The result was suffocating.

Ryan had to admit. As traps went, it was smooth. They’d even managed to separate him from his duffel bag. Which was concerning, given the number of armed men around, but not overly so. Not as much as the significant peg to his pride that little mid-air trick of theirs had been.

Now, Ryan had a point to make.

Locking eyes first with the man, then with his wife - whose smile had become a victorious sneer - Ryan gave them a savage smile of his own. Then the editor sucked in his breath and activated his power.

His own trick cost a bit more points than he’d have liked, but the end result was more than worth it.

Would you like to disintegrate the gravel surrounding you? Cost: 46 points. Yes, or no?

The pavement keeping him locked in place disintegrated. Acrid smoke billowed about the editor’s form like a dark cloak. The woman’s sneer fell from her face and Ryan felt a surge of triumph. It probably wasn’t the best time for it, but he couldn’t help a little showmanship.

“You know. I really don’t do well with restraints.” The editor commented dryly.

The Oxfords gaped at him. Then looked at each other. Then back at him.

Before either could finish processing, Ryan charged them.

He’d crossed half the distance when Bradley Oxford came to his senses and raised one hand into the air. A section of street a foot thick and ten feet wide rose out of the ground in front of Ryan, dirt and stone forming the majority of its mass. The editor didn’t so much as slow his stride. He stretched a hand out ahead of him and tapped the wall.

This time, it didn’t disintegrate. It exploded towards the Oxfords in a shower of sharp stones that covered the street. Advancing through the spray of earth with barely a pause, Ryan rushed his opponents once more with olympian agility. If he could just touch them, this fight was over. The pair stumbled backwards as fast as they could, clearly unwilling to let a man who could explode things via touch get any closer to them.

Another wall went up. Half as thick as the first. Ryan gave it the same treatment. He heard the woman shout something right before he broke through, but Ryan couldn’t make out her words. Not that it mattered, they wouldn’t have time for another wall. He was too close.

Sharp bursts of gunfire sounded off from Ryan’s right. He immediately dove to his left, tapping the ground and activating his power to raise a section of the street up behind him like a wall. More shots followed, chipping away at his new barrier. Charity began shrieking at her husband to take it down, gesturing wildly towards the barrier. For his part, the older man was clearly confused. He stared at his own hands even as he moved back, unsure as to how ‘his’ power had activated. Then, Bradley tripped over himself and fell.

Ryan smirked, then with a quick thought he moved the majority of his kinetic skin to cover one arm. The remaining portion he used to cover one finger of his other hand. Then he reached around the wall and waved at Paul and his clones.

Bullets sprayed past the side of his wall, narrowly missing the Oxfords. Most missed his arm too, which was hardly a surprise. Several, however, connected. Slamming into his kinetic skin and transferring their energy to him. Just as he’d planned.

Ryan immediately funneled that energy into his other hand, which he held cocked like a gun at Bradley. The man’s eyes widened and he raised his own wall of gravel from the ground just as Ryan fired, using his thumb as if it were a trigger.

Though Ryan’s blast consisted of several bullets worth of kinetic energy, it still didn’t do as much as he’d hoped. Chunks of gravel flew back at him, but it didn’t blast through the wall. Silly physics and it’s laws. Ryan chided the universe. Then he flipped the Paul’s clones the bird with his exposed arm.

Concentrated fire began to rain down on his forearm as more took aim. Maybe they think my power has a limit? Or that they’ll wear down the resistance with sustained fire? The fact that Ryan’s arm - middle finger and all - didn’t so much as bend as spent cartridges littered the floor around it didn’t seem to occur to any of them.

Charity and her husband remained behind their makeshift defense. For a tense moment… nothing happened. Ryan kept his finger pointed in their direction, but neither poked their heads out. Which was smart, considering the amount of actual bullets now slamming into both of the erected walls.

Paul didn’t have the best aim. Off in the distance behind the Oxfords, Ryan could hear car alarms going off.

Ryan kept storing energy as he considered the situation. His finger remained aimed at the Oxford’s defense, but he didn’t know how much power he’d need to break through it. The editor wasn’t exactly willing to risk a dash over to their wall to disintegrate it either. If he hadn’t left his duffel bag behind, Ryan might’ve chanced it. As it was…

A man shouted from within the mass of parked cars and clones. Immediately, the gunfire stopped. Ryan popped his ears, relieved at the sudden silence. He spread the skin on his trigger finger to the palm in a wide line. Then he poked his hand over the wall in the direction of Paul’s clones and released.

A wave of force burst forth from the editor’s hand. It was less powerful than the concentrated version, but still enough - he hoped - to knock them off balance. Without pausing to look, Ryan ran around toward the Oxford’s gravel wall and tapped it with a finger.

The wall exploded… but didn’t move. With a flash, Ryan understood what must have happened. Charity must be holding it together. And this time he hadn’t disintegrated it. Wait… why had that worked last time? Even disintegrated, it was still the same mass… Whatever, doesn’t matter now.

Ryan took a second to glance behind him. The clones were regrouping and rallying as a healthier version of themselves - the real Paul, he imagined - appeared to be commanding them. That’s… going to be a problem soon.

The editor refocused his attention back on the tetris twins. It was time to take them out.

He dashed around the Oxford’s barrier and found… no one. Then movement caught his eyes and he turned towards it. The Oxfords were only a short distance away. Backtracking quickly while Charity kept one arm extended towards the wall where Ryan stood. Her fearful expression when she met his eyes was… not as gratifying as he’d hoped. He didn’t want to have to kill her, but if she went down then Ryan’s chances at escape - and life - became that much higher. Then she screamed.

“Kill him! Paul, you blithering idiot - shoot him now!”

Welp. So much for sentiment. Ryan supposed.

For the second time in as many minutes, Ryan charged the pair. Not just to take them down. If he could close on them, Paul and co. wouldn’t be able to fire without hitting their comrades. Which was a crucial detail. Without his duffel bag, Ryan wasn’t exactly keen on facing more bullets at the moment.

He was less than ten feet away when Bradley’s eyes moved from Ryan to a space just above him. The male Oxford’s hands blurred in a series of gestures, as if he were molding invisible clay. Unwilling to take his chances with whatever was about to happen, Ryan put on a burst of speed and dove for the man using all the increased strength in his legs. He cleared the last 5 or 6 feet in an instant. Tackling Bradley in the midsection and causing all the air to rush out of his lungs with a surprised ‘oomph’.

Would you like to give Bradley Oxford the ‘comatose’ status condition? 50 points. Yes, or no?

Bradley’s arms, which had been reaching for Ryan’s neck when they landed, abruptly went limp as Ryan activated his power. Then Bradley’s eyes rolled into the back of his head… and closed. Despite the gravel sticking out of his bloody chin, the man made no further movements. One down, one to-- Ryan paused.

He suddenly found himself unable to move. Couldn’t even lift himself off the man he’d just knocked out. His arms stayed locked around Bradley’s midsection, no matter how hard he tried to pull them back.

As he struggled Ryan figured out that he could move - but his clothes would not. They remained frozen in place as if stopped in time. Lightning ran through him as the editor realized what must have happened. He twisted, somehow managing to look towards Charity despite the restraint.

Charity’s expression had lost most of its fear, replaced by mounting fury. She held both hands outstretched towards Ryan, clenched tight as if to crush his heart. And she was shouting. Each word more shrill than the last.

“What. Did. You. Do?! What did you do to him!? If he’s dead I swear I’ll lock you there until you starve to death, you miserable, contemptible -- Bradley! Bradley, get up. I’ve got him, dear! BRADLEY!”

Ryan didn’t waste time on a response. Instead, he considered his options. Charity kept ranting at him, but her waspish accent was easy to ignore after all the gunfire. Briefly the editor entertained the idea of disintegrating his own clothes in order to free himself. Disintegration had worked once before, and it’d leave him naked in the street… but there were worse things.

As if on cue, someone landed next to him. Before Ryan could turn to see who - or what - it was, he felt a soft hand grasp the back of his neck. Cold spread outward from that hand before Ryan could pull up his power in response. The cold emanating from that hand numbed his neck and blocked out all sensations. It quickly spread up his neck and out towards the rest of his body, carried as if through icy veins.

Darkness fell like a curtain over his vision. Deafening silence rushed in, blocking out all other sounds. A scream died in his throat... And Ryan’s entire body stopped responding to him as the cold spread even to his toes. It was like he was back in the hospital bed again. Only this time he was fully paralyzed.

Had he missed someone? Was this their power? Paralysis?

Pure, unadulterated fear gripped his mind like a vice. Trapped in darkness, unable to move or even feel… Ryan tried not to panic. He still had his power. This wasn’t the end. He wasn’t actually paralyzed. He could still--

Ryan hurriedly called up his power, going straight to his character screen with a rising sense of urgency that was only the barest hint below sheer panic.

Physical Status: Complete Paralysis (Sustained)

Mental Status: Afraid

Okay. It’s okay. Everything’s fine. Just remove the status... Then I’ll be fine. This is just temporary. Only temporary. Deep breaths, Ryan. You’ve got plenty of points left.

Would you like to remove the status ‘Complete Paralysis (Sustained)’? Cost to remove: Unknown.

Warning: Status is being sustained by another. Status can be removed by expending energy equal to, or greater than, the energy being used to enforce the status.

Would you like to attempt to remove the status anyway? Yes, or no?

Warning: This attempt will expend energy up until either the status is removed or you run out of points.

That last part worried Ryan, but it was a paltry concern in the face of absolute terror. He could not stay this way. He would not be kept this way. Not again. Never again.

Ryan chose yes. Slowly. Much slower than he would’ve wanted. He felt dregs of power rush towards his neck from the few parts of his body that still had some feeling. Then, expectantly, he waited for the status to go away. Just... watching the prompt.

…

It didn’t change.

…

He could feel, somehow, his power struggling against his captor’s. The one who presumably had him literally by the neck. It felt like two streams of electricity meeting and trying to cancel each other out. Right at the base of his neck. For a moment, Ryan began to regain some feeling. Then he felt a twinge of panic.

One stream of power was clearly winning.

With mounting dread, Ryan realized the winning flow wasn’t his.

The editor felt his power expend itself, flickering out like a dying light. He watched it go.

Unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything but think... Ryan felt despair take him.

-------------------------------------------------

Ryan had no idea how much time had passed. He had fallen asleep - or something like it - a few times. But even waking didn’t end this nightmare. Being trapped in your own mind felt strangely like floating. There were no outside sensations, so Ryan kept himself busy in other ways.

One of his first hypotheticals with his power had been to gain energy by sacrificing his eyes. It had been an accident back then, but it wasn’t like the option wasn’t still on the table. Technically, he could still do it. A couple of trees down the chute would power a new pair - assuming he could crawl his way to them. Other body parts could be sacrificed for energy as well, if he got desperate enough. And, truth be told, he almost was. How long would it take to hop to a tree on one leg? Or to a power outlet?

It couldn’t be that hard. Assuming nobody was around to stop him. Which, he doubted.

Aside from the logistical issues of fighting his way out on one leg against an unknown number of enemies who had already beaten him once, there were just two things keeping him from reaching for the self-power solution.

The first was his captor had beaten down his power before, and he’d thrown at least two hundred or so points at the problem only to be rebuffed. If he suddenly started sacrificing limbs in a struggle that didn’t even get him out… whoever was holding him down might decide that Ryan was more trouble than he was worth. They might kill him.

Which brought him to the second consideration. They hadn’t killed him yet. Which could only mean they wanted him for something. Before he’d come to the hospital, Ryan had changed his entire appearance. That ruled out knowing who he was, hopefully.

If he had to guess, Ryan was probably being transported somewhere. Probably another one of the mayor’s prison-labs.The thought was not comforting. By now, he’d seen the effects those had on people. They barely looked like people afterwards.

And then there was the chance the mayor was about to use some form of mind-control on him. Maybe something like what had been on the officers just outside the hospital. Which, if he remembered correctly, had been some sort of ‘influence’. How that made one’s mind work, he could only guess.

Ryan had no idea how well he’d be able to resist something like that - if he even could. Lucas and Renee’s descriptions of what they’d been forced to do had been… disturbing. To say nothing of what the first group they’d rescued had told him.

Ryan would consume every organ he had for energy before he let that happen.

…

But for now, all he could do was wait.

Bide his time... They won’t kill me.

Try not to panic... They’re not going to kill me.

Plan his eventual escape... They would’ve killed me already if they wanted to.

It took him longer than he’d have liked. Longer than Ryan would be comfortable admitting to… but he eventually got his fear of the situation under control. He couldn’t tell if his breathing had changed, Ryan could however feel himself relax. Feel his thoughts begin to clear a bit as the anxiety receded.

Once that was handled, the engineer in him took over. Ryan threw himself into planning for the various scenarios that could play out whenever his paralysis ended. Into figuring out what he could dust for points whenever he ‘woke up’. What defenses or offenses he could spring into existence for the lowest possible expenditure. If he woke up in some sort of prison… then I’ll bust the fuck out and take everyone else with me.

He tried not to berate himself for focusing on the paralysis versus just killing the person who'd dare to touch him directly. Instead, Ryan promised himself that the next time anyone touched him without his explicit permission they would be the one's knocked out cold. Next time. Ryan assured himself. Just have to survive this time.

Over and over, Ryan called up his power. Running hypotheticals one after another. Memorizing the useful ones and discarding the rest. Altering variables to see how minor changes could result in wide swings in cost. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do… so the editor kept running tests.

Experimenting gave him comfort. Here in the darkness that his consciousness floated in, it gave him a sense of control that the paralysis couldn’t take from him.

It gave him hope.