Scene 20 - May 29th

Exterior City, Continuous

Quinn Kaufman

I pulled and pushed off the environment to land myself on one of the Buff Boys who was coming at Canaveral from behind, my body weight - probably half that of the thug, but still twenty pounds of mostly-muscle more than I had once weighed - knocking him off balance, particularly when I immediately launched off the thug, pulling at his legs as I did so to both arrest my momentum and knock him entirely off his feet. Number 1 down, at least for the moment.

“You guys should be proud!” I cheerfully told them as I touched down. “This is my last patrol as a Journeyman - you get to be part of history!”

“Fuck off!”

“Wow. Very articulate,” I commented sarcastically.

“Hey, be fair,” Canaveral told me as he wrapped the chain he used to fight with around another gangster, using it to pull her off balance - I pulled on the ground and pushed a building behind me to root myself while giving an additional push to her lower legs, helping send her down. Number 2 off her feet. “It’s pretty good for a third grade education.”

“I went to Juilliard, you ass,” growled Number 3. He stomped heavily on the ground, the force of his brawn-boosted muscles cracking the pavement, and reached down to lift a slab of asphalt.

“And look what your theater degree has gotten you!” I said, launching myself at him. He raised the slab as a shield, and I landed on it, keeping a gentle pull so that I wouldn’t fall off. In the moment that he couldn’t see me, I exerted the force of my presence to launch a smaller slab right into his groin. “A part-time job as a punching bag and, I’m guessing, enough debt to drive you to become a gangster!”

“They pay well,” he groaned, clearly in pain but boosted enough that it didn’t stop him. Behind me, I felt Number 1 begin to rise, and I pushed against him - with my own body rooted to the asphalt slab held by 3, 1 was sent skidding away from Canaveral, giving him the few seconds he needed to finish cuffing Number 2. “It’s not my fault the economy is in shambles!”

“That’s fair,” I admitted, and reached out to pull at the building behind 3, exerting enough force to cause the man - between me and the building - to stumble backwards, hoping to trap him between the asphalt and the building. “But come on, dude, can’t you get a job at a coffee shop or something?

“Oh, like I’ve never heard that before.” He flexed his fingers, crushing the asphalt slab, and went for my skull. I managed to parry and twist away from one hand, but his other massive palm fell on my head, and he began to squeeze.

Fuck that hurt, but the PA4 was armored enough that it wasn’t debilitating. Instead, I reached up and found a pressure point on his wrist, squeezing it until his fingers involuntarily loosened - pushing at them as they did got my head out of his grip.

The man suddenly jerked backwards as something small and fast-moving collided with his forehead. “What’s wrong, Newton?” Canaveral asked, stepping up beside me and hefting another ball-bearing. “You’re not having trouble with this guy, are you? I mean, really, him?”

“Be nice,” I scolded. “He went to Juilliard!”

“What’s he doing in a gang, then?”

“The economy is in shambles.”

Canaveral nodded. “That’s fair.”

The thug rolled his eyes, rubbing at his forehead. “Wow, glad you fuckers approve of my life choices.”

“Didn’t say we approve, just that we understood.”

“Anyway, your buddies are tied up already,” Canaveral said, jerking a thumb at the other two Buff Boys. “Wanna join them before the cops get here, or would you rather get punched in the face a few times?”

Number 3 sighed. “Just cuff me,” he said, putting his hands out. “I’m not dumb enough to try to fight both of you at once.”

“Of course not,” Canaveral agreed. “After all...”

“You did go to Juilliard,” we chorused, and the thug sighed.