Friday, April 9, 2010

"Are you ready?" Kirstin asked.

Oran grimaced. "You tell me." He was wearing an outfit his sister had picked for him after canvasing his entire closet looking for anything that might not embarrass her to be seen with.

She examined his dark grey suit and black t-shirt combination critically. "It will have to do. I think I need to take you shopping this weekend."

"Your shirts are getting a little tight," his mother agreed.

"God save me ..." Oran muttered hoping the others would not hear. His mother gave him a quelling look that confirmed she had. He nodded his acquiescence. He would go shopping.

Oran and Kirstin left a bit after nine. He was surprised that a high school party started so late. Pope remembered the wild parties of the late 1960's in his friend's homes when their parents were away. Oran had never been invited to this sort of party. He had mostly been to get-togethers with his small circle of friends. When they arrived at the venue he was again surprised at the overwhelming ostentation. It seemed that Miss Mooar had rented a popular nightclub for the event. The bouncers were checking for invitation rather than IDs.

They stood on the red carpet, paparazzi snapping away. Fame through wealth was a familiar phenomenon, but he had never experienced it from the wealthy side. Oran could hear the music from outside, but did not know if that was because of his enhanced hearing. Kirstin's anxiety was apparent from her grip on his arm and her hesitant steps. She let several people pass them by while she watched.

"Do you want to give it all a miss?" Oran asked, faking a British accent.

"I wish," Kirstin said quietly, "I really don't want to be here, but I have to."

"You don't, you know?" Pope said. "Even if blowing this off costs your friendship with Noreen. Even if it costs you popularity, this is just high school, not real life. Many people have survived high school without being in the in-crowd."

"You sound like some old man. I know I can survive. But I like being popular. Believe it or not, I've worked for it. And I don't want to throw it all away." Kristin seemed to convince herself. She squared her shoulders and marched forward. "Let's go."

"Yes, Ma'am," Oran winced when she said 'old man'. Pope's perspective, while valid was not something most teens were ready to listen to. He followed her into the chaos.

Loud music, pulsing lights, aromatic illegalities, a plethora of radio emitters, and writhing bodies partially hidden in the shadows all assaulted Oran's new senses. He had never experienced anything like it. He stumbled and caught himself on a pillar.

His sister noticed and asked "Are you ok?"

"Gotta hit the toilet."

She looked around for a moment then pointed. "Over there."

He lurched towards them, leaving her behind. Once inside he locked himself in a stall and put his hands over his ears. He concentrated hard on damping down the sights, sounds, smells, and other inputs. He regulated his breathing and with it his senses. It took almost five minutes before he was able to function without nausea inducing headaches. He wasn't happy, but he would survive. Finally remembering why he was there, he tried to scan for Kirstin. As soon as he opened up his senses he was overcome by the deluge of noise. A minute later he realized he would have to do it the old fashioned way. He went out into the club to search for her.

It was another five minutes of wandering what looked like the set of Bob Guccione's Caligula combined with the Oscars Oran discovered his sister. Unfortunately she was with her brother, her "best friend", and Jonas in the VIP section of the balcony. The lighting was such that no one could see them from the floor, but the important people could look out and watch the peons at play.

"Quit fucking around and do what you're told," Eric said. He had Kirstin by her arm and was jerking her towards the other football player. Jonas had the oddest expression. It was a combination of embarrassment, shame, lust, and anticipation. The lust seemed to be winning out as he started to reach for Kirstin. Noreen was watching intently. Her eyes never leaving the other girl's. Her tongue kept slipping out to wet her lips. Kirstin was looking around desperately for someone, anyone to help her.

She saw Oran and cried out, "Help!"

All eyes turned to him.

"Get the fuck out of here, Orange," Eric said, grinning. "Or I swear to God I am going to peel you. You're Mommy isn't here to save you. No teachers either. Walk away or you are going down."

"It's your Daddy that's not here, Eric. No one to fight your fights for you." Oran said, his voice almost conversational. A slight mocking smile played on his lips. "I've already taken down your buttboy here once this week, without even noticing the miniscule effort. I don't want to hurt you. And you don't want your promising football career ended with a tragic disco-related long-term limp. So let's all leave Kirstin's romantic choices to her and her chosen partners."

"Tell you what," Eric offered, his teeth clenching so hard Oran could hear the enamel flaking. "You and I are going to settle this, Right here. Right now. Just you and me."

"Not here," Noreen ordered. "I put a deposit down and don't want this place trashed."

"Fine. Out there." Eric jerked his thumb to a discreet exit door. He started towards it, pulling Kirstin with him. Oran followed. He risked a brief glance through the door. It led to a fire escape that had stairs going down into an alley. It looked like a private exit for the VIP. It also looked like an ambush. There was a guy Oran had never seen before waiting next to the door with a baseball bat. Nikolai Korda was waiting with Neel and another unknown thug in the alley, hidden from immediate view, and each was carrying a bat.

Adrenalin started pumping and time slowed. Pope realized that even with his physical enhancements six assailants, some of them armed, was no cakewalk. And his primary concern had to be the safety of the girl. If he could get Eric and Jonas out to the alley, while Kirstin stayed inside, he would only have himself to worry about.

Walking past Eric, Oran grabbed his older brother's right elbow and dug his thumb into the ulnar nerve at the funny bone. Applying enough pressure caused Eric's hand to spam, releasing his grip on Kirstin. Oran continued to squeeze. "Kirstin, stay in here, better yet, go downstairs and stay with your other friends. Eric, Jonas and I are going to be outside for a bit."

"Hey! Let him go." Jonas charged, swinging. Oran used his left hand to slap the punch wide. Jonas overran, and Oran was able to grab the back of his neck. He tightened just enough to bring the larger boy to his toes.

"Let go of me!" Eric said, trying to wrench his arm free while Oran was distracted. The younger boy just increased the pressure, grinding the older boy's bones together painfully.

"I think it's time we stepped outside. Jonas, Open the door, please." Oran ordered.

Jonas wrenched the door open and yelled "Don't!" as the unknown with the bat started swinging. The batter aborted the swing before he hit Jonas. He peeked around the doorway and saw Oran controlling the two other boys.

"Eric, if you would ask your colleague to precede us down stairs we can have that discussion you are so anxious for." Oran's voice was steely. Pope had decades of managing violent young men. This was not the same situation, but many of the techniques still applied. He squeezed once more for emphasis.

"Ow! Fuck! Get down there, Gennadi," Eric ordered. "He's going to break my fucking arm."

Th older fellow backed down the stairs, bat in hand. He was careful to keep an eye on the two Oran had control of. Oran maneuvered the others out the door, making sure to kick it shut behind him. He added some extra strength, hoping the door might jam to keep anyone else from following. Then he let go of both boys and did a flip over the railing, grabbing on to a pipe several feet away. He slid down to the alley floor, arriving before the man with the bat.

Oran made a show of sniffing around. Now that they were out of the club, he could smell all six of the others. Turning to where Nikolai was hiding he said, "Come on out. We might as well all get this over with."

Oran picked up a mostly empty five-gallon plastic paint bucket out of a pile of decorating debris. Checking that the lid was firmly in attached, he began swinging it in gentle arcs as he stepped into the center of the alley. The six young men arrayed themselves around him. "As I was saying Eric, I really think you need to keep out of your sister's love life. And Jonas, I just don't think she's that into you."

"Get him!" Eric screamed and charged right at the younger boy.

Side stepping, Oran swung the bucket into Eric's back as he ran by, knocking him into Neel. Nikolai and Gennadi both swung. The coordination was good, but Oran blocked one with the bucket and dodged the other. He spun on his heel, whirling the bucket with both hands, causing the others to jump back, hitting the alley walls.

Jonas tried to tackle him. Dancing out of the way, Oran caught the other boy in the ass with a strong kick, lifting him off the ground and landing him in a trash pile. The unknown guy caught the bucket with his bat, knocking it free of the metal handle on one side. This made it too unbalanced to be useful. Oran whipped the container at Nikolai and turned to catch Gannadi's bat. He was careful to intercept it near the other man's hands rather than the business end, but he still felt the impact.

Wrenching the bat away, Oran twirled low under a swing from Eric. When did he get a bat? he wondered a moment. For several seconds Oran and Erin fenced with the bats like they were broadswords. Then Nikolai took advantage of his distraction and cracked Oran in the head. This caused the younger boy to stumble. All four bat men took advantage and started whaling on him, raining down blows.

Ten seconds later Oran surged to his feet, bat held over his head in both hand like a staff and knocked his attackers back. While the others were stunned, Oran grabbed their bats from their hands and tossed them on top of the three-story club. The attackers scrambled to their feet.

"Now," Oran said, tossing his own bat after the others, "shall we try this without the toys?" The six attackers started looking at each other, fear evident in their eyes. Eric in particular was looking at Oran like he had never seen him before.

Clap, clap, clap ...

The sounds startled everyone.

"Well done, kid," said a man, nondescript, except for his purple hair. He wore well cut clothes - black slacks, black shirt, and grey jacket. "I liked the bit where you come up from under the pile all - Uurah!" He mimed holding a bat over his head.

A large brown-haired fellow jumped from the roof of the club, landing in the alley, cracking the concrete. He wore tight black jeans, a dark red wifebeater, an obviously armored black trench coat, and black fingerless sap gloves. In his hands were three of the bats Oran had thrown away. "You almost hit me with these." He grasped the bats in his oversized fists and snapped all three in half.

"You do like to show off, don't you Damage." Complained a metallic silver haired woman dressed in a blood red armored body suit. Her hands glinted silver and her costume was nearly covered in silver blades in a black sheathes.

"Fuck you, Shank," the big man said. "I told you I'm now called ..." he posed for a moment, "Scathe!"

"Yes, yes, very scary," said the smaller man smiling.

"Mellow?" Nikolai queried, confusion plain in his voice.

"Hey, Nikki," Mellow replied. "You might want to pull your boys back. I hate to interfere in your fun, but we got a contract."

"On Bry?" Nikolai asked, then he turned to look at Eric.

"Fuck no. Wasn't me," Eric denied.

Oran looked at the three obvious supers, his mind racing at the implications. They're here for me. Hired by the same person behind the murder attempt? If he knows I took down the others, he may suspect I'm a super, thus he hired these guys. Too many peoples seem to know I have some super powers. Maybe I can play on that to hide the rest of the truth. Physical powers only. And if these are too much for me, try to get away to change to Pulsar. If I can't get away, fuck the Secret ID and burn them all down. Plan A, B, and Go-To-Hell.

Not waiting for the kibitzing to end, Oran leapt at the alley wall, kicking off to gain hight and momentum and came down to lay a powerful punch on Mellow.

It was like hitting a rock. The sound echoed through the alley, but the man's hair was barely mussed. Oh, crap! Oran thought as he dodged a return blow from the well-dressed man.

As he moved he heard something coming towards him. He tried to dodge but a knife scored along his shoulder, leaving a thin trail of blood. Damn they're fast.

Oran's boxing training helped him doge a punch from Scathe. The big man seemed to soak his counter punch, actually flashing red and growing slightly at the impact. That's not good.

As he was evading another thrown knife, Oran dodged into a body slam from Mellow. The impact was tremendous. Oran bounced off the larger man and slammed into a wall. The purple haired man rebounded as well, looking like he was almost as damaged. It took a second for the boy's world to stop spinning.

Unfortunately, both Scathe and Shank managed to get blows in during that time. I can't take them. Not like this. Oran thought as he forced himself off the wall. He started evading, not trying to attack but to escape. He was using his parkour as it was originally created to be used, as a military movement and evasion art. He had a slight speed advantage, but it was not enough to overcome their numerical advantage. He started looking for some way out.

Watching the three, Oran realized that they were not used to working together. Several times they got in each other's way in the tight confines of the alley. I've got to use that against them.

He cheated towards Shank. She was the fastest of the three, but the only one he was stronger than. Allow her to cut him to get past her guard, Oran grappled with her, then threw her at Mellow. The smaller man was his target because he could leap farther than Scathe.

This is going to hurt, Oran though as he maneuvered into the path of an uppercut from the large bruiser. He rode the impact, aided by his own leap, onto the fire escape's second level. Before the others could untangle themselves, he scampered up the metal framework and over the edge of the roof.

Once out of sight of everyone, retreated behind a large vent. His electromagnetic sense told him there were no cameras nearby. Looks like this is it. He concentrated and manipulated the molecules of his clothes, transforming them into his costume. His skin turned dark blue and his hair bright white. Drawing his energy nimbus into a tight shield he took off in the sky, away from the alley.

He circled around the block, approaching the alley from a different direction. Stopping, he hovered about twenty feet above the three assailants. "Stop," he said, his voice distorted by his energy shield. "I saw you attacking that kid. I've moved him to safety. Now it's your turn."

"You're going to move us to safety too?" Mellow asked, his smile never leaving his face.

"No ... I mean now I'm going to stop you." Oran almost smacked himself in the head. This sort of public posing was stupid. A fact Shank reminded him of when she sent a needle-tipped throwing spike his way. He flared his shield and melted the weapon before it could touch him.

Deciding violence was the better part of valor, he rose higher to move out of the two strong men's' leaping range and sent a pulse blast to Shank. She barely dodged it. Mellow bounced off the fire escape to get high enough to grab onto Oran's ankle. Scathe started getting angry. He charged up the stairs, trying to get closer.

Oran smiled down at Mellow. "That may not have been the smartest move." Then blasted him in the face. He used only half his power as he did not want to kill anyone if he could avoid it. Half power, it turned out, was enough to send the purple-haired man crashing into the pavement below. But not enough to render him unconscious.

Scathe threw himself from the fire escape landing, aiming to punch through Oran, rather than grabbing him. Oran created a gravity eddy that pulled him down to the street. When he hit, Oran could see him glow briefly and grow a bit larger. I wonder if he can absorb any sort of energy or just kinetic? Probably best if I don't blast him to find out.

The two men started to launch objects at him, while the woman looked like she was preparing to flee. Oran decided he did not want any one getting away and there was no need to allow them to engender anyone else. He concentrated on the gravitic eddy and expanded it to a gravity wall that encapsulated all three villains. Mellow threw the cinder block he had ripped from a wall but the field caused the debris to crash to the ground. The same happened to Shank's throwing knife and Scathe's fist. Oran let the three try their hardest to escape or damage the bubble, then tightened the perimeter of the wall until the three criminals were tightly bound. Here was a technique that allowed him to use his full power, without risking the lives of his targets.

He landed next to the gravity bubble, which he caused to float a foot above the ground. As the sounds of the battle quietened, people started appearing in the nearby doorways. Oran could hear sirens closing in the distance.

He turned his attention to his prisoners. "I understand you were after the Bry boy. I don't suppose you're interested in telling me who hired you?"

"Wouldn't do you any good," Mellow said as the others gave him the stink eye. "We work off the Exchange. You know how secure that is." The Exchange was a criminal clearing house run through the dark net, Oran's memories supplied. He had heard it was supposed to guarantee anonymity for both client and contractor, but did not know any more about it. "I don't suppose we could make a deal?" the phlegmatic man suggested. "Let us go before PRU gets here? I can pay."

"Yeah, make it worth your while," Shanks said giving him a look that caused teenage hormones to almost overcome aged perspective.

"No," Oran croaked out, cursing his damned body silently. "I think we'll wait for the police."

Just then two men with FBI emblazoned on their jackets came down the alley from the street, weapons drawn. They looked like short shotguns with dual grips and a slightly bulbous barrel. Oran recognized them as energy weapons of some sort. "FBI!" they yelled in introduction.

Oran nodded and raised his hands. He did not need them to maintain the bubble. His feet came off the ground as he hovered at the same height as the bubble. He smiled, his white teeth standing out in sharp contrast to his midnight blue skin. "I come in peace."

"Who are you and where is Oran Bry?" asked one of the agents.

"I am called Pulsar. I left Bry up on a roof a few buildings over." Oran pointed in the direction in which he had escaped. "He was cut up some, but not hurt badly."