I think the one in the lingerie and cape was a psychic, she may have been standing there doing nothing because she’s the leader, but I don’t think so. I think she was trying to melt my brain. She didn’t put her hand to her temple like the psychics do in the movies, but she was staring at me intently and I could feel something happening. Whatever it was wasn’t working though. Someday I’d like to find out if they intended to protect my thoughts like Fred said they did for him or if it’s just a side effect of my horrible headaches.
After that initial kick I grabbed the dominatrix woman by the collar (see, that’s why you don’t dress like that) and threw her through the wall, the exterior wall behind us. I hope she’s got some kind of super toughness because you can probably survive going through a wall but a four story drop is another story. I wasn’t trying to kill her I swear, I just reacted.
Cape and dominatrix weren’t an issue, but the one wearing the piece of floss was trouble. She was fast and she hit hard. I don’t know if she knew that I had super strength or just knew that she was better off keeping her distance in general, but either way she was elusive. She’d snap me with a couple punches and then be back out of reach. Feminism aside, I’ve never before seen a woman that could throw a decent punch. She was like Muhammad freaking Ali.
Even more amazing though, her outfit stayed on somehow. It must have been be glued to her tits. Which can’t be good for your skin. As I was getting pummeled I wondered – where do these women come from? I’ve been told that natural super people are very rare, so rare that you’ll never meet one. So unless Playboy has their own “super-soldier” program, I can’t understand where women like this could have come from. There are only a handful of militaries that can successfully create super people, and the ones that can manage it can’t do it in any kind of volume, I can’t imagine they’d allow any of their assets to get away and end up in slutty Halloween costumes robbing banks.
However consider this, Martialla, Blue, and I are all NBH’s that were created by different kinds of experiments. I didn’t even know that was possible. And maybe it wasn’t before, but now things are changing. Maybe this is a thing like with generic brands at grocery stores. The super-soldiers like Angel (God rest her soul) are your Honey Nut Cheerios and your Count Chocula, but now people have figured out how to make Apple Blasties and Flakie Flakes and they’re starting to flood the market with knock offs. Is that what’s happening? Are we about to live in a world full of cut-rate defective super beings? That doesn’t sound good for anyone.
I’d like to say it was a stratagem on my part, that I feigned being really hurt to draw her in, but it was just happenstance. After a hard shot to the ribs, I slumped into the corner and Boobs McGee finally danced too close and I caught her by the hair. I yanked down and ripped out a good chunk of hair and scalp off her (good thing for me it wasn’t a wig) and the whiplash effect of her head getting snapped down knocked her out cold. Ironically given our previous conversation, her body flexed out like I was cracking a whip, contorting her in an odd way as she flopped to the ground. I looked out in the hallway where the leader was still trying to explode my head with her mind powers (or maybe just standing there) and failing (or succeeding).
“Are we done here?” Her eyes darted around wildly for a second and then she nodded quickly “Get your friend and get out of here.”
While she struggled to drag her friend away I saw that said friend was still breathing, so at least I didn’t break her neck accidentally. I should probably have Blue teach me a few moves one of these days so when I fight I only kill people who I want to kill. I snorted out a big blob of blood and sat down in the corner with the last of my smokes. I was never unconscious exactly, more like when you accidentally get way too high and you just kind of forget that time is a thing. I flicked my ash out the hole in the wall. Next thing I knew, Martialla was standing over me.
“I think my nose is broken.”
She crouched down to look me in the eyes “I think you got your bell rung.” She gestured at the hole in the wall “What happened?”
“Wrong address.”
“You seem to attract more than your fair share of trouble.”
“Yeah. Look, I’m sorry I complain all the time. I’m doing the best I can. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not a soldier. From now on I’ll listen to you and Blue, I’ll do whatever you guys think is best.”
She snorted “You must have really gotten dinged if you think that. I’m sure that’s not going to last long once you shake it off. What you need to realize, Ela, is we’re not superheroes. There’s no such thing.
That’s comic book stuff. We’re just trying to make our way. And that means we’re going to have to do whatever we need to. Can you accept that?”
“I guess. I mean, I did rob some banks back home.”
Rocket Cat 