I really hate this job.
Flint's thoughts were as heavy as his footsteps as he trudged through the wreckage of the strip club. Each step crunched on broken glass and splintered wood. The air smelled of gunpowder, blood, and cheap perfume.
He'd been born with his power. Like most. The doctors said his mother's womb had exploded when he was delivered. An unfortunate accident they'd called it.
"It wasn't your fault, Jackson."
"There are many who are born like you, it's better to learn how to use it to benefit the society rather than..."
His caretakers and adopted parents kept telling such things...
But Flint knew the truth.
They were afraid of him.
He'd never met his father. Probably for the best. The man must have taken one look at the screaming infant who'd killed his wife and had run as far and as fast as he could.
Flint had grown up in the system after that. Group homes. Foster families. None of them lasted long once he lost control over his powers hurting those around him. He'd been labeled a danger, a menace, a monster.
As a child, he'd tried to be good. He'd tried to control his power, to use it for something constructive. But the world wasn't interested in a boy who could blow things up. They weren't interested in a man who could level a building with a touch.
Hero work was out of the question. He'd applied once, years ago. The recruiter had taken one look at his powers and had literally backed away from the table.
"Your abilities are too destructive," she'd said, her voice shaking. "We can't risk casualties from friendly fire."
Too destructive. Too dangerous. Too much.
The army had been a possibility. They'd actually been interested for a while. But the idea of being a weapon, a tool for someone else to point at enemies... it wasn't for him. He didn't mind killing people. He'd come to terms with that part of himself long ago. But he didn't want to do it on command. He didn't want to be someone's dog.
So he'd become a villain instead. It was the only place where his power was appreciated. The only place where being a monster was an asset.
He'd joined the Alleyway Boys after being defeated by their leader. That crazy bastard had laughed the whole time they'd fought, even as Flint sent explosion after explosion his way. When it was over, when Flint was on his knees and the leader had him at his mercy, the man had just clapped him on the shoulder.
"You're good. Ridiculously good. But you fight like a toddler with a toy bigger than him. Let me teach you how to fight like a soldier instead."
So here he was. A soldier. Doing a job he hated, chasing a bitch who wouldn't stop running.
"..."
Tsk.
Mirage was fast.
Faster than any D-rank had the right to be.
Just how...
The woman who was currently dodging his attacks like a damn acrobat was anything but D-rank. She moved with a fluidity that spoke of years of training, or...
Or she'd taken something.
He couldn't be sure. But the way she fought told him everything he needed to know.
"Hehe~ You keep missing me big boy~"
She was mocking him, too. Dancing around the room, showing off, laughing as she made him chase her. And she was deliberately, systematically, putting civilians in the line of fire.
He had to be careful where he aimed. One wrong touch, one misplaced explosion, and he could crack a support beam, collapse the ceiling, and kill them all.
Even as he thought it, she dodged another of his attacks, and the resulting explosion took out a table where a group of people had been hiding moments before. The blast sent shrapnel into the dark, striking a man who'd been crawling toward the exit. The man screamed once, then fell silent.
"I'm gonna gut you like a fish!" he roared, lunging forward.
"Ooh, scary!" Mirage laughed, her body flickering with that strange chromatic glow. Her illusion power made her hard to track. Just as he thought he had her, she'd split into three or four copies, each one tantalizingly close, each one a lie.
"You're gonna have to be faster than that, big guy!"
She threw a handful of something at his face. He instinctively raised his arm to block, and the object exploded on impact—not from his power, but from a small incendiary device. The flash blinded him for a second.
"You stupid little—"
He swung his fist, and she was already gone.
Flint gritted his teeth behind his hockey mask. This was taking too long. He could feel the anger building, the heat rising in his palms. It would be so easy to just let go. To stop holding back and turn this whole goddamn building into a crater. He could do it. One touch to a major support, a few seconds of charging, and...
No. The artifact. He couldn't risk the artifact.
The Enigma was a small black box, unassuming but priceless. It was a creation of Dr. Evelyn Cross, that crazy scientist bitch who'd been put down by heroes years ago. Her last work, the prototype to end all prototypes.
It had the ability to boost whoever consumed its power, whatever it was, by a whole rank. A D-rank could become a C-rank. A C-rank could become a B-rank. And up to S-rank. The higher you were, the less benefit you got, but even for an S-rank, there was reportedly a tangible increase.
If he consumed it, he could become an A-rank. A national-level threat. A force to be reckoned with everywhere.
But it would be more useful to his boss. The Alleyway Boys' leader had been A-rank for years, and he was hungry for more. If Flint brought him this prize, he'd have a permanent place at the top.
That was the plan, anyway. But the plan had gone to hell the moment Mirage had started acting crazy.
Flint slammed his fist into a table, and it exploded into splinters. Mirage used the distraction to flip over his head, landing behind him. He turned just in time to see her flash him a wide grin.
"You're not as scary as they say, you know that?" she taunted, gesturing with the artifact. "A B-rank, and you can't even catch a D-rank girl like me?"
"Give me the Enigma and I'll let you walk out of here," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
"Ooh, tempting. But no." She wagged the box at him like a toy. "I think I'll keep this. You know how much this thing is worth? Enough to buy a whole island."
He took a step forward. She took two steps back.
"You don't know who you are playing with," he said. "It's not for you. It's mine."
"Finders keepers, baby." She blew him a kiss. "Besides, you'll have to catch me first. And for a big guy... you're not that fast."
She dodged another explosion, barely. The blast caught her in the shoulder, sending her spinning. Her fingers loosened around the box for a moment, and Flint lunged forward, his hand outstretched.
He'd almost grabbed it.
Almost.
But at the last second, she twisted her body and... threw it?
"Wait, what—"
The box hurtled through the air, spinning end over end, and landed with a soft thud in the hands of a shaking boy who was hiding under a table. The kid stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes.
He was pale. Messy black hair. A torn hoodie. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
Flint froze.
For a moment, he could see into the boy's eyes. Those wide, dark eyes, which were looking at the both of them with utter fear—
Then, in less than a second, the boy was gone.
*WOOSH!*
He barely heard the sound of wind, but he felt the displacement of air as the boy vanished from under the table. He blinked, but he'd already seen it. A blur. A flash of red and gold.
"..."
His jaw tightened.
... Speedster?
A speedster had taken the boy and the artifact. No. That wasn't happening. Absolutely not. That wasn't an option.
Mirage looked equally stunned. "What the fuck—"
"THE FUCK!"
Flint's patience snapped. He didn't care anymore. He didn't care about the building. He didn't care about the civilians. He didn't care about anything except getting that box back.
◇◇◇
*BOOM!!!*
The strip club exploded behind them. David didn't look back—he didn't need to. He could feel the heat of the blast, taste the ash in the air. The force of it propelled him forward like a rocket, his legs pumping at full speed.
"WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT THE FUCK?!" The kid in his arms was screaming, clutching the black box to his chest like his life depended on it.
"You're welcome!" David shouted back. "I just saved your ass!"
"HOW IS THIS SAVING?! HE'S STILL CHASING US!"
David glanced back, and his blood ran cold. Flint was airborne. Not flying—no, he was using his explosions as propulsion, detonating small blasts at his feet to launch himself forward. Every time he touched down, he blew a crater in the street, sending a shockwave of debris in all directions.
"GODDAMMIT!" David pushed himself harder, his legs burning with the effort. He wasn't running at full speed—not even close. The alcohol, the exhaustion, the months of neglect—it was all catching up to him. He was maybe hitting 150, 160 kilometers an hour. Max.
20% of his speed was just... gone.
A bolt of explosive force flew past his head, tearing through the air and hitting a parked car. The car erupted in a fireball, and the shockwave sent David stumbling. He nearly dropped the kid, tightening his grip at the last second.
"Holy shit holy shit holy shit—" The kid was hyperventilating, his eyes wide and staring.
"Hey, hey, keep it together! I need you to focus!"
"FOCUS?! YOU'RE SAYING FOCUS?! THERE'S A PSYCHO WITH A HOCKEY MASK TRYING TO BLOW US UP!"
"Technically, he's trying to blow everything that is NOT the artifact that you just happen to be holding."
The kid looked down at the box in his hands, then back at the explosion-obsessed madman who was pretty much a force of nature.
"UGH! Why did she even throw it at me?!"
"Bad luck, I guess!"
"No, no, no, no—" The kid's voice was climbing into a frantic pitch. "I can't die here! I have places to be! I have a system to—wait—"
David didn't catch the last part. Another explosion rocked the street, this one closer. A chunk of concrete the size of a bowling ball whistled past his head, hitting a lamppost and snapping it in half.
"FUCK!" David swerved, barely avoiding the falling metal. He ducked into an alley, hoping to lose Flint in the maze of backstreets. "This is so bad. This is so bad."
"What do we do?!" The kid's voice was desperate. "Can you outrun him?!"
"Not at this speed! I'm not even close to my max!"
"THEN GO FASTER!"
"I'M TRYING!"
*BOOM!*
The wall beside them exploded. David threw himself to the side, rolling and coming up running. The kid was screaming again, a high-pitched sound that was starting to give David a headache.
"You're fast, but not fast enough!" Flint's voice echoed through the alley, distorted and monstrous. "Give me the Enigma and I might let you live!"
David considered it.
Throw the artifact away and run. Let Flint take it. Let him kill the kid. Get out of this alive.
The thought crossed his mind in under a second, and he hated himself for it. Years ago, he wouldn't have even considered that. He would've fought tooth and nail to protect the innocent.
But he wasn't that person anymore. He was just a drunk, hollowed-out husk of the hero he used to be.
Yet...
His arms tightened around the kid.
"Don't let go of that box," he said through gritted teeth. "Whatever you do, don't let him get it."
"WHAT? WHY?!"
"Because if he gets it, he's gonna use it to hurt a lot of people. A whole lot of people."
"SO THAT'S MY PROBLEM?!"
"RIGHT NOW IT IS!"
He burst out of the alley, narrowly missing a truck that had to swerve to avoid him. The driver honked—a long, angry blast of the horn—but David was already gone.
"MOVE IT! MOVE IT!" He was shouting, mostly to himself now. His lungs were burning. His legs were starting to shake from the exertion.
The kid looked back over David's shoulder, his face contorting into an expression of pure terror.
"He's still behind us! And he's gaining!"
"He's blowing up the street behind us! That's gonna slow him down!"
"It's not slowing him down! It looks like he's actually getting faster!"
"Shit!" David pushed himself harder. His heart was pounding, and he could feel a stitch forming in his side. He wasn't used to this. He'd let himself go. He'd spent months sitting in bars and getting drunk instead of staying in shape. The one fight he'd gotten into earlier this morning with Red Shinobi had been enough to make him feel like garbage.
"Think, think, think..." he muttered. "Where can I go? Where can I lose him?"
"TAKE A LEFT!" The kid shouted.
"What?!"
"I said take a left!"
David didn't have time to question it. He swerved left, ducking under a low-hanging awning and crashing through a stack of cardboard boxes. He emerged in a narrow alley, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side.
"It's a dead end!" he shouted.
"No, it's not! Up ahead, see? There's a fire escape!"
David looked up. He saw the rusty iron ladder bolted to the side of the building, leading up to the rooftops.
"You want me to go up?!"
"It's our only chance! He can't explode things forever—the shockwave will hurt him too if he's too close!"
"Since when are you an explosives expert?!"
"I'm not! It's just common sense!"
David didn't have a better idea. He planted his foot on a dumpster, launched himself upward, and grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder. The metal groaned under his weight but held. He scrambled up, the kid still clutched in his arm.
"Come on, come on—"
*BOOM!*
The dumpster exploded beneath him, sending him flying. He hit the fire escape platform hard, the breath knocked out of his lungs. The kid rolled free, clutching the box to his chest, gasping for air.
"You okay?!" David wheezed.
"I'm still alive! That counts, right?!"
Flint landed on the ground below, looking up at them. Even through the hockey mask, David could see his frustration.
"Nowhere left to run," Flint growled. "Come down here and give me the artifact. I won't ask again."
David grabbed the kid and pulled him onto the ladder, starting to climb again.
"Hold tight!"
David climbed. His arms screamed. His legs were rubber. The kid was dead weight, but he wasn't letting go.
"Almost there—"
*BOOM!*
The entire fire escape lurched. David looked down and saw Flint standing at the base, his hand pressed against the metal support. There was a faint orange glow. Then—
The whole structure came apart.
"OH SHIT—!"
David grabbed the kid and jumped. Not up, not forward—just out, away from the collapsing metal, praying to whoever was listening that they'd land somewhere soft.
They crashed through a window.
Glass exploded around them. David hit the ground hard, rolling, trying to shield the kid with his body. Stars burst in his vision. His ribs screamed. His arm—something was wrong with his arm.
"Nngh—"
"Are you okay?!" The kid scrambled out from under him, still clutching the box.
"I've been better..."
David pushed himself up, wincing. They were in some kind of office. A nice one, too. Mahogany desk, leather chairs, the whole "corporate success" aesthetic.
"Heek!? W-what the fuck!?"
There was a man in an expensive suit standing near the desk. He had salt-and-pepper hair and a face that screamed "I own a yacht." And he was... in the middle of something.
A woman in a secretary outfit was kneeling between his legs. Her blouse was undone, her skirt bunched up around her hips, and her mouth was doing something very enthusiastic to the man's crotch area. She froze when they crashed through the window, her eyes wide and her lips still wrapped around what was clearly her boss's dick.
The man stared at David. David stared back.
"...Sorry. Don't mind us. Just passing through." David flashed a sarcastic grin, then turned back to the kid. "Come on, we gotta—"
*BOOM!*
The wall beside them exploded. Flint crashed through, his massive form seeming to fill the entire room. His hands and legs were bleeding, the skin raw and red from the force of his own explosions.
"Give me the Enigma," he said, his voice scarily calm.
"No can do, big guy." David grabbed the kid and started backing toward the window. "That thing's not yours."
"It was never yours either. But you're holding it now, so—"
"It's not mine. It's hers. She threw it to us."
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be." Flint took a step forward, his massive hands clenched at his sides. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. I just want what's mine."
David laughed. "Dude, you just blew up a strip club. You turned the whole street into a warzone. You're literally bleeding from your own explosions and you're still standing there like a pissed-off demon from hell. You're not exactly selling the whole 'I'm harmless' thing."
Flint was silent for a moment. Then he spoke, and his voice was quieter, almost sad.
"That artifact... it was my grandmother's pendant."
David blinked. "What?"
"My grandmother's pendant. She gave it to me before she died. It's the only keepsake I have from her. Please... just give it back."
David stared at him.
The kid stared at him.
"...Your grandmother's pendant?" David repeated slowly.
"Yes."
"In a black high-tech box with weird glowing markings on it."
"...Yes."
"Your grandma's pendant."
Flint nodded, sincere. "She was a sweet old lady. Worked as a seamstress her whole life. Loved gardening and baking pies. I miss her every day. Can't you give it back?"
David looked at the kid. The kid looked at David.
Then David turned back to Flint.
"Bro. That's the weakest lie I've ever heard in my life. And I once told a cop that my cocaine was a cooking powder."
"..."
"Whatever this shit is, I can feel some strange magical energy from it. My bet is that your boss sent you to grab it at the drug deal and it went sideways. Am I close?"
Flint's shoulders tensed. The calm facade cracked, revealing the rage underneath.
"You're making a big mistake, speedster."
"Maybe. But I'm not about to hand you a weapon that'll let you hurt a lot of people just 'cause you're being nice about it." David grabbed the kid and turned toward the broken window. "Later, grandma's boy!"
He jumped.
The kid screamed. The wind rushed past them as they fell. David twisted mid-air, grabbing a fire escape railing with one hand and swinging them onto the roof of the next building.
*BOOM!*
Flint crashed through the wall behind them, landing on the rooftop. His bleeding fists left red marks on the concrete.
"I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"
"Get in line!" David shouted back, running at full speed.
He weaved between AC units and water towers, the kid bouncing in his arms like a sack of potatoes.
"How are you still alive?!" The kid's voice was a shriek.
"GOOD GENETICS! NOW SHUT UP SO I CAN FOCUS!"
They reached the edge of the rooftop. David didn't stop. He jumped again, landing on the next building, then the next. He was running on pure adrenaline now, his legs numb, his lungs burning.
*BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!*
Flint was still behind them, still gaining. Each explosion sent him flying forward, leaving craters in the rooftops.
"He's not giving up!" the kid yelled.
"Yeah, I noticed! You got any bright ideas?!"
The kid looked around frantically, then pointed at a narrow alley between two buildings.
"THERE! Go down there!"
"Why?!"
"The walls are too narrow! He'll have to go around!"
David didn't argue. He sprinted toward the alley, hit the edge of the rooftop, and launched himself off.
They fell three stories. David hit the ground, absorbing the impact with his legs, feeling something in his knee pop. He stumbled but kept moving, ducking into the alley.
Flint landed on the rooftop above them. He looked down, then reached for the wall—
And stopped.
The alley was too narrow. His massive frame wouldn't fit.
"GODDAMMIT!" He slammed his fist against the wall, and a chunk of brick exploded outward. "I'LL FIND YOU! I'LL KILL YOU BOTH!"
David kept running. The alley opened up into another street, and he burst out into the traffic, weaving between cars and dodging pedestrians.
*BOOM!* A distant explosion behind them. Flint was still trying to find a way around.
The kid let out a shaky breath. "We... we made it?"
"Not yet." David didn't stop running. He couldn't. Not until he was sure they'd lost the big guy.