Well, if I did have a chance at convincing them with words, it’s gone now. Hope they enjoy their tinnitus.
Malcolm gave the car’s roof a not so affectionate punch, and then pushed off into the air again. He circled overhead, content to let them make the next move.
The car pulled off the main street, speeding down a long alleyway. They weren’t attempting to lose Malcolm, as far as he could tell, but a small helicopter that had been trailing after the getaway car, keeping it in spotlight. Malcolm assumed that it was the local news, given how much Vanderbrook’s police presence had dimmed over the past few weeks.
He twisted through the air, tossing himself forward with his wind manipulation until he was ahead of the car, and then landing on the roof of the building directly to the left of the alley’s exit. Malcolm took a slow, focusing breath, and reached his awareness out toward his second superpower.
“Oh, you gentlemen are going to have a surprise waiting for you,” muttered Malcolm.
And gentleladies too, of course. Probably better not to assume anything about the genders of this little band of thieves.
He grinned as fire coalesced over his palm, forming into a sphere the size of a basketball. It was his brother Danny’s power… or had been. Malcolm was still learning the ins and outs of heat manipulation, but he knew enough to create fireballs, and as he’d quickly discovered, there was a lot that could be accomplished with a globe of flame and a little bit of moxie.
He launched it down toward the tiny alleyway exit. As it hit the ground, Malcolm shifted to his other power, feeding the fire blast oxygen with the wind until it spread to form a wall of flame, blocking off the criminals’ escape.
The screech of tires filled the air again. The car had too much speed to be able to stop in time. Malcolm wondered whether any of the occupants would require a change of underwear, before deciding that it probably wasn’t their most pressing worry.
As soon as the driver of the car realized that they would hit the fire no matter what, the car sped back up. Malcolm heard a muffled cacophony of screams as it passed through the wall of inferno.
He’d tried that trick a couple of times before. Usually, the driver of the car stopped. Malcolm stroked his chin, very curious about whether the passengers had escaped injury. He watched the car as it took a sharp corner and then crossed over a grass median and onto a road that led to the outskirts of town.
Malcolm followed slowly. Over the past couple of weeks, his job as a super vigilante had provided a great deal of insight into how easy it would be to overuse his powers. He could already feel the heady euphoria and manic confusion pulling at him, pushing him toward hitting the car with a fire blast and being done with it.
Not today. That’s not how the Gifted Vigilante does things, despite how the media likes to portray me.
Instead, he moved from building to building, keeping the car in sight but not attempting to overtake it. The helicopter had given up pursuit, which was just as well. Usually the video footage the news took of him was edited to fit their narrative, instead of the truth.
The car was speeding down an empty road, out of Vanderbrook’s populated neighborhoods. That was ideal, as far as Malcolm was concerned. If things had to get messy, he would prefer not to have to worry about stray bullets hitting innocents. Or, accidentally setting a house on fire, something which he’d discovered was far easier to do than expected.
Malcolm followed with long, super power leaps, each one carrying him several hundred feet. He never actually touched down, instead using his wind manipulation to double jump each time he came within a few feet of the ground. He saw the car pull onto a new road and slow down. He smiled, amused at the fact that they thought they’d lost him.
CHAPTER 2
Malcolm got the feeling that it wasn’t the first time that this particular group of criminals had pulled a stickup job. Crime had exploded across Vanderbrook in the aftermath of Savior’s exile.
Demons and sprytes, emboldened by the Champion Authority’s weakened state, had been the catalyst for a complete loss of law and order. Regular criminals had, like the ambitious entrepreneurs they were, taken advantage of the chaos.
The car drove by several old buildings, and then pulled into an abandoned auto garage, the door closing behind it. Malcolm adjusted his sunglasses, making sure his disguise was still in place, and then headed after them.
I should probably knock first, before heading inside.
He still had enough stored heat in his body for a few more fireballs. He made a small one in his hand, knowing that it wouldn’t take much to cause damage to a building that was probably full of old oil rags and stray gas cans. He took aim at a small, open window, and hurled his blast forward.
Malcolm heard air rush from the resulting impact of the flames, followed by several surprised screams. He scratched at his chin and waited, smiling as smoke began to trickle up from inside of the building. It reminded him of watching something burn inside an oven.
His opponents came out of the garage to meet him, eight of them in total. Too many for Malcolm to feel comfortable taking on, if he’d had a choice about it. A bald man with a scruffy beard appeared to be their leader, and he stepped forward to point an angry finger in Malcolm’s direction.
“We’re not afraid of you, fucker,” shouted the bald man. “We’ve fought demons before.”
“First of all, no you haven’t,” said Malcolm. “Do you want to know how I know? Because you’re still alive.”
Even the weakest monsters Malcolm had encountered usually packed enough of a punch to take care of a disorganized group of gun toting thugs.
“And secondly, you got me all wrong,” he continued. “I’m not a–”
The opening salvo of gunshots popped off in loud, rapid succession. Malcolm deflected one of them using his wind manipulation, and then immediately dove for cover behind an old, rusty car. He had superpowers, but he wasn’t invincible. It was a fact that had become increasingly evident to him over the past few weeks.
“Shoot him in the fucking head!” shouted the bald man.
Malcolm forced himself to stay calm, waiting until one of the thugs had enough courage to attempt to rush into the open. He moved with wind assisted speed, flying forward and slamming a fist into the thug’s stomach.
More gunshots rang out. Malcolm pulled the thug to the ground with him, surprised that his fellows had so little qualms with the potential for friendly fire. He disarmed the man for good measure, and then leapt into the air with his wind manipulation.
“He’s in the air!” shouted one of them.
It was too dark for any of them to track him effectively. Malcolm rose up a few dozen feet, and then descended directly into the center of the group. He pushed out hard with the wind in all directions as he landed, knocking loose a few guns and stunning all of them.
“He’s–” The nearest thug, the one who’d shouted about him being in the air, took Malcolm’s fist to his face before he could proceed to state the obvious again. Malcolm spun, kicking out behind him and catching another one in the chest.
I need strategy, not brute force. This fight isn’t going to last long if I try to be Rambo.
As if in response to his thought, one of the thugs opened fire with their weapon. Malcolm ducked in time to avoid getting shot, but several of the shooter’s friends weren’t so lucky. Malcolm knocked a man off his feet with a wind assisted push, and rolled back into cover behind a pile of old tires.
“You fucking shot me!” screamed one of the thugs.
“It was an accident!” said another. “He was in the middle of us. I couldn’t let him–”