Time, time. I needed time for my paint to come back so that I wasn’t essentially a helpless little girl facing a bunch of armed men anymore. But I also needed to make sure I kept their attention long enough for that to happen without the group noticing the other girl over by their prisoners.
“Hey, asshole!” The sudden shout from Juice himself made me jump, but it was coming from the front while I was already back near the stock room with several rows of shelving units in the way. “Think you’re getting outta here?!” he continued in a loud, echoing bellow. “Think again! We got this fucking place surrounded! Out back and up top. It’s all covered. You ain’t going nowhere!”
Oh boy, oh boy was it hard not to call out a retort pointing out his double-negative. I had to bite my tongue, because he was so begging for it. Apparently a consequence of dealing with all my confusion and insecurities in the middle of horrible, traumatic danger by using insults and bad jokes was that it was hard to turn that impulse off when using it was a really bad idea.
When he was met with no response (barely), Juice gave an audible growl. I heard a blast of his electricity shoot out somewhere, though it came nowhere near where I was, currently ducked behind the last row of shoe shelves. His voice was dripping with annoyance and the promise of violence. If not to me, then to others. “Get your asses moving. Drag that arrogant little brat out here.”
Right, so… apparently I wasn’t going to have to work very hard at the ‘keep their attention on me’ plan. In fact, I was gonna go right ahead and give myself a stunning A-Plus on that assignment.
But now what? The men were starting to move through the store, smacking shoes and boxes off the shelves, spreading out so they could cover every row, and methodically working their way toward me. The area I was in at the moment was the kid’s section right before the stockroom. There were two rows of half-sized shelves sticking out perpendicular to the wall, creating a sort-of miniature boxed in area that was all kid shoes. I was currently ducked down behind the last of those shelves to stay out of sight. The stockroom door was only a few feet away, but it was in plain sight of one of the rows that I could hear one of those guys making their way down.
Okay, my paint only needed a short time to recharge. Like a minute or two? Had it been a minute or two yet? It had to be, right? Fuck. Fuck. I had to wait as long as possible, let my tank have as much time as it could to recharge or refill or whatever the hell it did. Unfortunately, the men were almost to my spot, and I had a feeling they were starting to realize that it was the most likely place for me to be, because all of them were moving faster. Before, they had been taking the time to knock boxes around, leaning up to peer on top of the shelves, and just basically being thorough. Now, however, I heard footsteps approaching quickly, along with dangerous muttering. In a second, they were going to be right on top of me. They could peer over the half-sized shelf or come around the corner there. Then I’d really be a sitting duck. I had a few seconds at best.
Ready or not, it was time to do this. Quickly, I grabbed the nearest thing that could possibly be anything resembling a weapon. It was a Brannock Device (one of those metal measuring things you put your foot into and adjust to tell you what size shoes you should wear). With the thing in my hand, I focused. To my immeasurable relief, it turned orange. Paint was back on the menu!
Instantly, I put the image of a large purple stick-figure man kicking someone across the front of my costume, and an orange bull head on the back. But I didn’t activate them just yet. First, I waited and listened to the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. At the last possible instant, I activated all that paint both on myself and the Brannock Device, as my hand lashed forward. With a grunt, I hurled the metal measuring thing like a tomahawk or something, chucking it as hard as I could right at the space where one of the men was just coming into view. Just as it left my hand, I left a spot of red on one end of the thing while pivoting to face upward.
The hurled metal device, spinning through the air, slammed into the face of the first guy just as he came around the corner with his gun raised. Between the orange paint keeping it intact and the strength boost from the purple paint on me, the thing hit him hard enough that he immediately collapsed with a strangled cry, hand snapping up to his suddenly-bleeding face.
By that point, I had just started to see the head of the man right by the half-shelf I was hiding behind. My hand, still outstretched, summoned the measuring device back by activating the red paint on it and on my glove. It flew right into my grip just as the man in question leaned over, his gaze reflexively looking to where the other guy had just fallen. That head, covered in a dark ski mask, presented the perfect target for me to crack with my makeshift weapon. There was a cry from the man as he fell out of sight, gun going off to shoot a hole through one of the shelves.
Two down. Or at least hurt enough that they weren’t going to jump right back up immediately. Unfortunately, I could already hear what sounded like half a dozen more running for this spot. Not to mention the fact that Juice was still at the front.
But I still had over half my time for the already-active paint, and I wasn’t about to waste it. Shooting red paint toward the ceiling above the nearest aisle, I used it to pull myself up and over that way. Immediately, the guy there snapped his gaze up and started to shout while raising his gun. But I released the red paint, dropping down to crash into him first. We collided, my momentum knocking the man to the ground before I lashed out with a quick, somewhat-awkward backhand. It wasn’t pretty or skilled, but with the purple strength, that didn’t matter. The guy’s head snapped back as he groaned in pain and went limp under me.
With maybe a couple seconds left on my current paint, at best, I pivoted to put my feet against the row of shelves, then shoved as hard as my enhanced strength would let me. There was a loud, protesting groan, then a violent snapping sound as the shelf broke. It tipped over sideways, collapsing into the next aisle over. As it went down, the shelf hit the one next to it, knocking that one over, and so on like dominoes. I could hear yelps and curses from the guys in each aisle.
“God damn it, you useless motherfuckers!” I heard Juice shout from the front even as he started to move, finally coming fully into the store himself. “Can’t you do one goddamn thing right?!”
Taking a breath, I used blue paint to launch myself up to the ceiling, inverting so the shoes would hold me there, in plain sight. “Hey, don’t blame them, a good manager takes responsibility for his employees!”
With a snarl, the big guy lashed out, sending a bolt of lightning. But I was already moving before I’d even finished saying that, throwing myself sideways along the ceiling (which was more like a floor for me at the moment, thanks to Wren’s work). I was also still talking, blurting out a quick, “Maybe you guys just need a team-building exercise!”
Another bolt of lightning came my way. Also, a large rack of sports shoes, which the man hurled with his other hand while bellowing about what he was going to do when he put his hands on me. Honestly, none of it sounded very pleasant.
But again, I was quicker, launching myself straight down toward the floor. Or rather, toward one of the overturned shelves, just as the electricity and hurled metal rack hit the spot where I had been. Shoes rained down all around me, while the rack itself landed in a crumpled heap a bit to the side.
“Seriously,” I called while quickly scrambling on my hands and knees over the rows of shelves, “I hear those retreats do a lot of good for building rapport between boss and employees!” Putting blue paint under my feet while still scrambling, I launched myself forward and up, shooting another puddle of blue at the wall ahead of me just as yet another blast of electricity hit where I had just been. Hitting that blue spot, I rebounded backwards off it to fly over Juice’s head, landing in a roll behind him as he spun back toward me. But just before he could try to hit me from point-blank range, I snapped a quick, “How ‘bout we start with a trust fall?”
With that, I activated the red paint I’d stuck to his back while flying over him, as well as one of the bits of red I’d left on the shelving unit I’d been scrambling over. Instead of pulling the shelf to him, however, I sent him flying backward, yanked up and over to crash down onto his back against the shelf.
“I think it’ll really lift your stocks!” I shouted, while activating the other bit of red paint I’d left on the shelf he was lying on, as well as its matching spot on the ceiling. The shelf flew upward, slamming full-force into the ceiling with the man lying on it.
Right, now the rest of his men in here were starting to pull themselves out. Plus, I could hear crashing and banging in the ceiling above where the guy was pinned, while chunks of the shelving unit started snapping and falling. He was breaking out, and it definitely wasn’t going to take long. These shelves weren’t exactly built to contain a guy like that. Not to mention the fact that he sounded seriously pissed off. Between this guy and Janus, I was just racking up friends on the Easy Eights. With my luck, they’d find Cuélebre and the whole group would form a club dedicated to making my whole existence a living hell. Because that was just how these things seemed to work.
But, oh well. I would have to deal with that later. Right now, I shot several quick bursts of red at the remaining shelving units and one spot at the floor right in front of the doorway. Seeing several of the men scrambling toward me and shouting, I pivoted and threw myself through that doorway while activating all the paint. Instantly, I heard a cacophony of bangs and crashes as the shelves all flew to block the door I had just gone through. Hopefully, I hit a couple guys in the process. But right now all I cared about was slowing them down for a few seconds. Even if they just went through the back door, it was still something. Every little bit helped.
For the moment, I pivoted, coming face-to-face with a bad guy who looked completely surprised to see me there. He was just coming around the corner of the shop, through a narrow path that ran between the buildings. His gun was held loosely at one side, and he started to bring it up belatedly. But I reacted faster, quickly lunging that way while painting purple on my gloves and activating it so I could rip the gun from his grasp, then simply shove the guy hard in the chest. He hit the ground and I jumped over him. There wasn’t time for any of this. Hurling the pistol as far as I could to the side, I sprinted back toward where the prisoners had been.
Had been being the thankfully operative words, because all I saw as I reached that point were two of the Easy Eight thugs laying on the ground, groaning in pain. The civilians were all gone. Well, mostly gone. Looking up, I saw a few of them disappearing off across the street or rounding the corners of the other buildings. The point was, they had escaped. Thank God.
Or rather, thank whoever the girl in the armor was. Because she was clearly the one who–
“Paintball!” Speaking of whom, the girl herself suddenly jumped out from behind the overturned cart where she had apparently been hiding. “Are you okay? What happened in th–”
Abruptly, the girl was interrupted by a loud crack of thunder and power as the front of the shoe store was blasted apart by a burst of lightning. The enraged Juice came into view, head snapping our way immediately as a violent curse erupted from him. Yeah, he was not happy.
“Oh, you know,” I managed, reaching out to grab the girl with both hands while turning my shoes blue to launch both of us upward. “Just did a little browsing!” As we rocketed upward, the next shot of lightning passed right where we had been. I aimed for the roof of the nearest shop, and we came down there, tumbling just past an air conditioning unit with a pair of yelps.
Lying there on my side, I looked over to where the other girl was sprawled. Somehow, the helmet had stayed in place. But just as my mouth opened to say something, I heard a bellow from below. Eyes widening, I blurted, “Move!” and shoved her away. Then I quickly rolled the opposite direction, scrambling to get out of the way.
It was just in time, as Juice landed right where we had been. His hands lashed out to grab both of us, but he missed by inches. “You wanna fuck up my night, huh, assholes?! This whole thing would have been smooth. Use the civvies to keep the cops back long enough to bust up everything the fucking Niners have in this place, then let ‘em go. They would’ve been fine. But no! No, of course not. You stupid fucks have to jump in and play hero so you can ruin everything!”
On my feet, I quickly spoke up to draw his attention and ire. “Sounds like you’re having a bad night. We could always call it a draw. You go home, we go home, all of us just rethink our lives and choices? What do you think?”
Apparently he thought ‘zap’, because the man pivoted to throw a bolt of electricity at me with a snarl. I’d already anticipated, and activated a pair of green wings on my back. They made me fast enough to dive out of the way. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough to dodge the second bolt that he sent right to where I was diving, having anticipated the move.
It was only a brief hit, a graze really. But it was enough. The electricity hit me, and drew a sharp cry of pain. Suddenly, my whole body seized up. I hit the ground and spasmed. In the background, I heard a girl’s voice shout, “Get away from him!” Then there was a grunt of surprise, and a large shape was flung over me. Opening my eyes, I saw… well, first I saw a bunch of static on the screen where my heads-up display was supposed to go. But it cleared up a second later. More importantly, Juice was on the ground, while an enormous silver, bronze, violet, and black battering ram was hovering in the air just in front of him. It was about as big as a car, the colors spread throughout it in a tie-dye pattern. The armored girl was standing back a bit, arms outstretched. Her armor no longer had black in it, and looked a bit thinner. The purple cloak was gone too. Wait, purple cloak was gone, black part of the armor was gone, and now the previous silver and bronze transforming marbles had been joined by those two specific colors? Right, duh, the armor was made up of the same marbles as the weapons. Yeah, that made sense. Not like she’d had time to go grab a costume in the ten seconds since she’d gotten her powers. Convenient, really. Also explained how her helmet had stayed on before.
In any case, apparently both of those marbles that had been a part of her armor and the cloak had helped form the massive battering ram that hit Juice hard enough to knock him clear across the roof and left him lying there looking dazed. Which was just fine with me, because I was still feeling pretty dazed too.
Armored girl, however, wasn’t dazed. She was more along the lines of pissed off. Her hands swept out to either side. With that motion, the battering ram split apart too. It broke into two half-sized pieces. One was black and purple, the other silver and bronze. Those two pieces instantly shaped themselves into a pair of enormous glowing boxing gloves of those respective colors. Each was about the same size as the big guy himself. Then, as the girl slammed her own fists together with a loud, ringing metal clang from her armored gauntlets colliding, the huge, glowing boxing gloves did the same, slamming into one another. Or rather, into either side of Juice. They collided with the big guy hard enough just as he was picking himself up that he fell right back down again, actually bleeding and bruised.
Immediately, the girl made a quick twisting motion with her hands. The two boxing gloves actually scooped up the man and held him tight, cupped around him. Then she pivoted, making a wide throwing gesture. As she did so, the cupped gloves flew up a good thirty feet and forward another twenty before abruptly disappearing. But Juice’s momentum didn’t disappear. The man was sent flying clear off into the distance, sailing over at least two different buildings before crashing down somewhere a couple blocks away.
As it turned out, the giant gloves didn’t disappear. They simply turned back into four colored marbles, all of which flew back to hover around the girl herself like obedient puppies waiting to be praised.
Looking down, I murmured under my breath, “Test, test…” Then I breathed a sigh of relief. My voice changer was still working after being shocked. I hadn’t been hit nearly as hard as Cuélebre had with his own lightning.
“What?” the other girl was asking as she turned to me. Already, I saw the white from her helmet had sort of half-melted down into the rest of the armor as though to reinforce it.
“Nothing,” I quickly replied, shaking my head. “But–dude, that was amazing. What–how did–wow.”
“Ummm, I…” Trailing off, the girl squirmed on her feet. “I think–” Just then, she was interrupted by the sound of loud sirens and the sight of a dozen cop cars roaring up. Seeing that, she blurted, “Oh God! I’ve gotta get out of here!”
“What?” I blinked that way. “Are you like… wanted, or–”
“No!” she interrupted, sounding panicked. “It’s my mom!
“If she finds out about this, she won’t let me out of the house for a year!”