The Good Fight 2: Villains Page 7

  “Alright. It’s a favor,” Earl agreed. They both knew who was really doing who the favor, but Asher was a good enough guy not to mention it.

  * * *

  Three days later Earl had yet to hear a peep from Mayflower Construction and he felt like he’d swallowed a case of hot lead. He sat in the dingy living room on his beaten couch, holding a ski mask in his hands. On him were dark, inconspicuous clothes that Asher had sent over a day before, along with the ski mask. Asher had gone out of his way to keep things easy on Earl. Even as Earl sat in his room, contemplating the wisdom in his choices, Asher was on the way over to pick him up. It was all going so easy . . .

  Just like knocking over the liquor store was supposed to be. He’d only needed a few bucks, and he hadn’t used his powers. What were the odds that a Hero would be on nearby patrol? It hadn’t even been a fight; Earl was no match for that guy. Freaking Hero could punch through whole buildings; Earl could barely get a single car off the ground. One stroke of bad luck, and he’d found himself locked behind bars and charged with having a deadly weapon. Not because he did, of course. Because he was a deadly weapon, and in the eyes of the law it hadn’t mattered that he’d never so much as shown the clerk how strong he was. He was dangerous just for existing, and they’d tossed him into prison without so much as a second thought.

  That had just been for robbing a store with his finger. Whatever Asher was into, there was no way it wasn’t worse. Earl had contemplated calling him and telling it was no go, but every time he reached for the old rotary phone he’d bought at a garage sale, Earl hesitated. What was he afraid of, really? No matter which way this went down, he’d have a place to sleep for the next few months. Sure, there was always the chance that some over-zealous Hero might decide to take them all down, but as much as Earl searched inside himself he just couldn’t find any sense of fear at that outcome. Death scared him even less than prison. He wanted more from his life, but until he had it there wasn’t much he had to lose.

  A banging on the door shocked Earl so much that he nearly put a foot through his floor. Standing up, he pulled open the peephole to find Asher’s cheerful mug staring back at him. “Come on, come on. There’s work to be done.”

  Earl closed the peephole latch and put his hand on the knob. It was now or never. He could still pull out of this; still tell Asher that he didn’t want to get back into crime. Once they left though . . . that was pretty much it. This was his fork in the path.

  With a grunt of determination, Earl twisted the knob and opened the door. In minutes he and Asher were headed down to the car, both with ski masks tucked out of sight.

  * * *

  “It’s basically a smash and grab, but our smash target is a moving one.” Asher twirled the wheel, easily skirting a mini-van by several feet as he whipped past them. “I don’t know a whole lot; the guy running this likes to keep everyone compartmentalized. I just know that it’s my job to run down the truck and disable it, then a bunch of heavy lifting lugs are going to liberate the sweet contents within.

  Earl nodded, trying to push down the sense of rising nausea that kept bubbling up from his gut. At least Asher would have no problem running down a simple delivery truck; he could get himself over a hundred and fifty miles per hour on a long enough stretch of road. Asher had a dumb name, but a great power.

  Jerking the wheel to the side, Asher turned down a small side-street that led to an industrial area. The recession had hit this place pretty hard, though there were still signs of life lingering about. Once upon a time Earl might have been able to get a nice factory job like his old man had held at one of these places. Those days were long gone now; no one with his genetic variants and criminal record was scoring such a steady gig. Only decent, law abiding humans got those.

  “Hey, are you listening?” Asher smacked Earl on the arm, bringing him back to the discussion about the job he actually did have.

  “Sorry, kind of zoned out.”

  “Well don’t do that when we get in there. The guy running this is . . . I don’t know how to put it. Something about him just makes me uneasy. Everyone I talked to vouched that he keeps his word and makes fair deals, but I’ll still feel better with you having my back. Anyway, what I was telling you was to keep your mouth shut unless the head guy asks you a direct question or you have to coordinate with a teammate. If you want to keep this as a one-time deal, the less they know about you, the better.”

  “Got it.” Earl watched as Asher navigated the various parking lots, then slid his car through a narrow opening in a set of warehouse doors. If Asher hadn’t gone through them, Earl would have assumed they’d just been improperly closed. Which was the point, he realized after a moment of thought.

  Asher steered over to a small section of the mostly-empty building and parked next to four other vehicles. They were mismatched and clearly belonged to different owners, unlike the pair of black vans that were sitting in the center of the warehouse’s floor. Around them were various men and women, Earl counted ten in a single glance, all wearing dark clothes. Some had already donned their ski masks, which Earl didn’t realize was an option. He quickly slipped the fabric over his face as he followed Asher to join the crowd.

  “Ah, and there’s our leg man.” The voice came from a man in the center of the crowd, dressed in a crisp business suit rather than clothes for committing crime. He had a square jaw, bright eyes, and a politician’s smile. Earl could see why Asher distrusted him. “And he brought the help for the extraction team as well. Seems like everyone is finally assembled.”

  The man paused and reached into his jacket, producing a small circular device that looked as though it was some drunken child’s last minute science fair experiment. There were wires sticking out, a hastily attached series of switches, and Earl was ninety percent sure he caught the familiar silver shine of duct tape.

  “I’ll make this brief, because the plan is an elegantly simple one,” said the man in the suit. “You are all going to pile into the vans I have provided. The drivers have already been briefed on the route they are to take, and at an appointed time this young man,” he paused to point at Asher, “will leap out and take down a pre-designated vehicle. He’s going to attach this device to their hood, and press the red button, completely disabling their engine. When that occurs, you will pile out, and this young woman,” he pointed to a girl in a ski mask near the front, “is going to open up the back of the truck. Those of you designated as loaders will haul everything from it to your respective vans, while those of you brought in for crowd control will ensure no one interferes with the loaders. Once the cargo has been pillaged, you all pile back in and the drivers will get you either to here or to another safe location, depending on how much pursuit you’re under. I’m going to trust that there are no questions, so everyone get into a van, though no more than five per vehicle.”

  “The guy knows how to command a crew,” Earl muttered.

  “He’s renowned for his efficiency. Supers aren’t always the easiest group to control, after all.” Asher patted Earl on the back, then pointed to a nearby van. “Let’s load up. The last thing I want to do is contribute to that ‘speedsters are always late’ stereotype.”

  “Sure.” Earl trudged along, watching as the other nameless goons piled in as well. “Do you even know what he’s doing all of this for?”

  “Not a clue,” Asher replied. “That was the one piece of advice everyone echoed: do what you’re told and don’t ask questions. Our boss likes to keep things to himself, and people who get nosy are the ones who run into the most trouble working for him.”

  “Understood.” Earl climbed in behind Asher, noting that he was in the same one as the woman tasked with opening up the van they were robbing. There was no small talk as the engine turned and they began heading back out the warehouse doors. Earl didn’t want to get to know anyone, and he sure as hell didn’t want them to know him.

  He just wanted this to be done.

  * * *

  It was peac
e, quiet, and then chaos. For the first fifteen minutes Earl was almost able to forget what they doing, pretending he was riding along with some sort of fashion-challenged group heading to tour the museum. Then the driver slapped the console, resulting in a loud BANG that filled the air and drew everyone’s attention to him.

  “Target is spotted. Runner, go do your thing.”

  Asher nodded and unbuckled his safety belt, then pulled open the side door. Earl could see the street whizzing by at what was probably around forty miles per hour. For Asher, he could only imagine it looked like an intolerable crawl. His friend turned, gave Earl quick thumbs up, and leapt from the van onto the pavement. As soon as his feet touched ground Asher accelerated, and in an instant he’d raced ahead of their van. Earl leaned over and started to pull the door shut out, but a hand fell on his arm and stopped him.

  “Don’t. We’re going to need to get out of here in a hurry as soon as-”

  The woman’s voice was cut off by a sound like an explosion immediately followed by countless marbles hitting a tile floor. Earl could feel their vehicle braking before he even heard the squeal of the tires, and as he was tossed forward he found himself thankful that he hadn’t tried to take of his seatbelt to close the door. While he could easily survive being chunked through the front glass going these speeds, he’d definitely be worse for the wear.

  No sooner had their movement stopped than the woman’s grip left his arm as she leapt past him, barreling out the open door. Earl sat for a moment, still stunned by the sudden shift in what was happening, and finally snapped into action as he saw the other two men in the van piling out past him. Earl unbuckled himself and followed them, finally plunging headfirst into the chaos.

  Whatever Earl might have thought about the slip-shod gizmo Asher had been given, the thing clearly worked. There was smoke billowing up from the front of the armored truck, dark and inky black as it climbed into the clear blue sky. Still, that was nothing compared to the rear of the truck, which was still glowing white hot at the edges where a door had once been. That door now rested in pieces on the ground, so hot that the concrete cracked around it. The woman who had been in the van with Earl was staring nearby, the gloves and sleeves on her forearms both scorched away to nothingness.

  “Clear!” Her voice rang out through the street, where other cars were stopping behind them and people were beginning to mill on the sidelines. At her word, four of the others made a beeline for the now opened rear, and Earl realized the time to earn his paycheck had finally arrived.

  He followed the flow of his co-workers and grabbed the nearest thing he could find, a massive metal box that looked like it weighed far too much for a normal person to lift. As he gripped the handles and gave it a test heft his hypothesis was confirmed, though Earl felt confident it was within his capabilities to haul. With careful, but hurried steps, he made his way back onto the street, noting that the crowd had only grown larger. That was also when Earl realized that three of the others weren’t helping to haul, instead they were positioning themselves in key positions around the crime scene. A flicker of light caught Earl’s eye as he deposited the first item in the back of their van. By the time he re-emerged the crowd had back away significantly and there was a small crater in the road a few feet away from one of the three on crowd control duty.

  The crew moved surprisingly smoothly, and in only a few minutes they’d managed to completely empty out the armored truck’s contents. As Earl lugged the last two cases back to his van, a small flower of hope bloomed in his chest. Maybe they’d actually managed to get away with this. No injuries, no prison, just a simple smash and grab like Asher had promised.

  Earl was a few steps away from the van when it suddenly lifted off the ground, twirling in the air like a bulky block-shaped ballerina before changing direction and slamming back toward the ground. Shrapnel and shock sent Earl to the ground, knocking both cases from his grip. He could hear screaming, a lot of them cheers but many more of terror, as well as the all too familiar sounds of people being struck. As quickly as he could manage, Earl pulled himself to his feet and found that his worst fears had come true.

  Heroes. The brightly colored costumes gave it away just as much as the floating van had. There were two of them: an older woman in bright yellow who was currently squaring off with two of the guys on crowd control and a wiry young man in green who Earl saw make a quick motion and send one of the loaders flying back into the side of building. At least now he knew who had lifted the van.

  To his surprise, Earl realized that the others were still keeping their heads in all of this. Two had grabbed what they could from the debris of the van and chunked it into the one that was still on the ground. The kid in green made a motion at their sole remaining vehicle just as someone threw a case inside. Earl braced for another slam impact, but this time nothing happened. A look of frustration and fury built on the young Hero’s face as he made the gesture again, still to no avail.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Asher appeared as Earl’s side, hitting him in the back as he braked suddenly. “Come on; get to the van before they go!”

  “I . . . what. What’s happening? Why do we have a van left?”

  “Because the driver is a power negator. He can’t do very much though, and stopping that kid’s attacks on the van is probably more than he can keep up for long. So COME ON!” Asher grabbed Earl by the shoulders and began forcibly hauling him over. After a few moments Earl’s own feet finally kicked into gear and he started helping with his own escape attempt.

  They were almost there when Earl felt the wave hit him. It was a strike of pure nothingness; only force conjured by an inhuman mind. He and Asher were both flung to the ground, though Earl could hear his friend scrambling to get up. Unfortunately, he could also hear the sickening crack and screech of pain as Asher’s right leg was shattered.

  “That’s enough running out of you,” the Hero said. “And I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m betting a broken leg will stop you too.”

  As Earl felt the invisible force hit his knee, a scream welled up inside him. It wasn’t just the pain, though there was plenty of that. It was a scream born of rage, and frustration, and weariness at life pushing him down. Everything was always going wrong, all because he’d had to nerve to have been born better than humans. He hadn’t even been trying to fake the painful wail of a broken leg, which was perhaps why his anguished cry was actually successful in making the Hero think his work was done.

  He lifted his head slightly, staring back at the masked face that was trying to drag him back to jail like that same prick all those years ago. The Hero was paying Earl so much attention that it didn’t seem like he was even noticing the woman slipping up behind him. Her bare arms were glowing like stoked coals as she moved closer, but before she could strike the Hero whipped around and snagged her with what Earl was assuming to be telekinesis.

  “Trying to attack a Hero with lethal force? That’s going to get you put away for so long that you’ll never see the sunshine again.”

  The woman snarled through her ski mask and lifted her arms. From each came a spike of white-hot energy, on a direct course with the Hero’s chest. He was clearly surprised, but not surprised enough. Putting up his free hand, he materialized a shield several feet in front of him that stopped the fiery energy in its tracks.

  As they scrapped, Earl began to pull himself up. His leg was hurt, but not shattered. Clearly this kid hadn’t realized that Earl was of the extra-durable sort. Glancing down, Earl winced in sympathy at the bone jutting out of Asher’s leg. His friend was trying to crawl toward the van, where the two men who’d made it back had bailed out to deal with the other Hero. Earl started to reach for Asher, but he could still hear the Hero and the woman from their crew bickering.

  “You need to stop this right now! Surrender peacefully or I will use lethal force.” He sounded strained. Whatever she was dishing out clearly took a lot of focus to hold back.

  “Fuck you! You think b
ecause you were willing to whore yourself to the government you should be the only one who can use your powers? I’ll die like a Super rather than pretend I’m one of these worthless mundanes.” True to her word, she intensified the beams, and now the Hero was visibly sweating in effort.

  “They are not worthless! We aren’t better just because we have abilities.”

  “Well we aren’t worse! And that’s what they want us to pretend to be. Lesser than them, beholden to them; they want us to be protectors when the basic law of nature says we should be their rulers.”

  Earl felt her words as much as he heard them. How long had he been bowing and scraping and apologizing to these people? How many times had he been forced to bear their judgment and scorn, all because they were envious that he’d been chosen for a gift they hadn’t. How much of his life was lost to a grudge they’d decided to hold against his kind for the sin of being stronger. And most importantly of all, how long was he going to keep taking it?

  “I’ve tried to warn you, but-”

  Blood exited the young Hero’s mouth in place of whatever words he’d been about to spew. His neck snapped back under the force of Earl’s punch, adding to the damage already done by his super-strength blow to the back of the cranium. The Hero, probably barely out of college by Earl’s estimates, collapsed limply to the ground. He hadn’t been trying to kill him, just to knock him out. As the woman fell to her feet and blood trickled out from under that green Hero mask, Earl stared at what he’d done. He could still feel a dull ache on his knuckles. How hard had he hit him?

  “Help.” For the third time that day, Asher’s words snapped Earl back to reality. He turned away from the broken body he’d created and scooped up his friend in his arms. With the woman hot on their heels, they piled into the van just before it sped away, the path cleared now that a telekinetic wasn’t barring their way.

  It was only the three of them and the driver who had made it out. They were silent for a moment, then the woman reached over and touched Earl on the shoulder.