Chapter 7

Jake wants to be the very best (like no one ever was), and we experience a high velocity foot race.

“So that’s one War And Pea Soup with crackers on the side, a Death Of Ivan Sandwich, and two Kafka coffees. Sound right?” The blonde waitress finished scribbling in her notepad, cracked her gum, and looked at us expectantly.

“That’s right,” Meteor said, sitting across the table from me.

“I’ll be right back, hons,” the waitress said, tucking her pencil behind her ear and winking at me.

“Excellent work today, Quickdraw, excellent work!” Meteor said, unfolding his silverware from its napkin. “The way you handled that robot dinosaur was nothing short of spectacular!”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short,” I replied. “We would have been in real trouble if you hadn’t taken care of the slime dude.”

“Who knew he would dissolve in root beer?” Meteor said, laughing.

“Not him, obviously,” I laughed as well. “Otherwise he would have known not to rob a soda shop.”

It had been about a month since our run in with DeLuge and Teravolt. Things had been pretty quiet all said and done, so when we stopped a robbery in progress  perpetrated by a guy made out of green jelly and his pet robot dinosaur with tentacles, we decided it was cause for celebration.

“Yeah, what was it that they said their names were?” I asked.

“I think it was Plasmodium and Dinoflagellate.” Meteor replied.

“Oh my god,” I said, laughing even harder. “We have to give them points for creativity at least. It’s like they took a cell biology class and were like ‘Hey, those words sound cool!’.”

I took a casual glance around the diner while Meteor and I talked and waited for our food. It was seven thirty in the evening, and there were a lot of heroes hanging out there tonight. There were a few that I didn’t know, but the rest of them I recognized on sight and even knew their real names. Heroing brings you into contact with a lot of other metahumans, and you tend to develop a close-knit community as a result.

In the booth directly behind me were Adorabomb and Nightfever, who were working as a team at the moment. Adorabomb was cute, tiny, rosy cheeked, and  had a head full of golden curls. She could gather up energy like Meteor, but instead of being able to direct it she had to let it all out at once like an explosion. She also had a condition where she never hit puberty, so she looked like she was twelve when she was actually thirty seven. This actually worked to her advantage because it put villains off their guard. Nightfever dressed in a white suit with a big popped collar and platform shoes. His power can only be described as ‘human disco ball’, which is to say that he could let out blinding flashes of light from his body at will. He also danced like an idiot whenever he fought anyone. My bet on that particular team’s shelf life was about a month, maybe two. Nightfever had a big ego and Adorabomb smoked like a chimney and drank near constantly.

At the counter sat a couple more heroes. First was Chickenhawk, who could fly. I don’t honestly know if he had any other powers or why he chose the name ‘Chickenhawk’, but I didn’t really know the guy very well. Apparently he was pretty popular. Go figure. The next hero was Black Dashiel, who did his best to look like he was in a motorcycle gang. Black leather and jeans, tattoos, pompadour,  big black bike, you get the idea. He didn’t have powers but kept a variety of weapons stashed in his saddlebags, like chains, lead pipes, brass knuckles, and even a couple handguns, although he only used rubber bullets. Superheroes were accepted and even welcomed by law enforcement, but they came down on you like a ton of bricks if you actually started killing villains. Black Dashiel was generally pretty standoffish but he was useful in a fight, if unimaginative because he used his real name as his superhero name.

The next guy in the lineup was Miles Franklin. He had the power to turn into a shadow and was a straight up badass and all around great guy, if a little strange in certain ways. He kept on changing his hero name, the latest iteration of which being ‘Black Man’, which I’m sure you’ll agree isn’t exactly a great name. Other notable names were ‘Black Thunder’, which became ‘Black Lightning’, ‘Shadow Black’, ‘Black Mack’, and ‘The Black Scorpion’. It didn’t help that he actually was African American, so it was just too awkward to point out that he had an unfortunate penchant for using names with that particular word in them.

A booth across the diner contained the Nuclear Family, an actual family of four who each had a separate super power. The father had laser vision, I think, the mother could fly, the daughter had four arms and was a champ at gymnastics, and I don’t remember what the son could do. Telekinesis, maybe. I didn’t get to work with them ever because they didn’t team up as a rule and their kids had a curfew of nine o’clock, which was fine by me because having kids help to fight just felt weird. They were doing their thing and I respected that, but there probably should have been child labor laws for being a superhero. The Family got tons of sponsorships, as I understand it.

The waitress came back, her arms fulls of plates. She set our food down on the table. “Can I get you boys anything else?” she asked, blowing a bubble with her gum.

“I think that’ll be it, thanks,” I said with a smile.

“Anything you want, just let me know,” she winked at me again and bustled off.

“I think she likes you,” Meteor said when she was out of earshot, a broad grin on his face.

“Please,” I said. “Like I have time to see anyone. Besides, she’s gotta be like ten years older than me.”

Meteor’s smile got bigger and toothier. “I’m not talking about dating, chum. Dating only interferes with the job, as you know, but a fling can relieve tension. And you look like you’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”

“That is nobody’s business but my own, thank you very much,” I took a sip of my Kafka coffee, which was not as bad as the name implied, and only a little bit as roach-y as one would expect.

“Well, she’s been sending you all the signals,” said Meteor. “And besides, you might just-”

I never got to hear what I might just, because at that moment Meteor was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps and big hands coming down onto the table top. “Hey hey, it’s Quickdraw and Meteor! Heard you guys had a little punch up the other day that didn’t go so well for you, eh?”

I didn’t look up. I knew exactly who it was.

“Did you hear something, Meteor?” I asked, ignoring the speaker.

“Not really,” replied Meteor. “But I might have a little debris in my ear from that robbery we stopped today.”

“C’mon guys, it’s okay,” said the speaker, who was leaning on the table. “We all get our asses kicked so hard that we have to be hospitalized from time to time. It’s nothing to be totally ashamed of to the point where you should be embarrassed to show your faces in public.”

The speaker’s name was Bullhorn. He had the horns of a bull, the hooves of a horse, and the brain of a sea slug. He was also a tremendous douchebag. Like his namesake, he enjoyed nothing more than being loud and obnoxious.

“So I was thinking, Meteor,” I said, still ignoring Bullhorn.

“What were you thinking about, chum?” asked Meteor.

“Probably not much,” Bullhorn cut in.

“I was thinking,” I continued. “About how much it would affect someone’s intelligence if their super power was to headbutt things all day.”

“It certainly can’t be good for the ol’ mental capacity,” agreed Meteor.

“Hey, wait a second,” said Bullhorn.

“I was also thinking,” I said. “About the wisdom of picking an item used at sporting events to make one look like an idiot as a superhero name.”

“Probably not the best decision,” said Meteor.

“Now just hold on a minute,” Bullhorn protested.

“Oh, hey Bullhorn,” I said, looking up with false sincerity. “I didn’t see you there.”

Bullhorn lowered his head to our level. “Word on the street is that you boys got into a scuffle and came out a little the worse for wear.”

“Happens to the best of us,” said Meteor.

“That it does, that it does,” said Bullhorn. “But to end up in the hospital over it? Whoo-ee! That might make a feller look a little bit like a pansy.”

“Well, some of us care about our health more than our image,” I said. “And some of us don’t think it’s wise to just go home when we get a concussion.”

“Concussion? I don’t know the meaning of the word!” Bullhorn hooted.

“I’m sure you don’t,” I said, taking another sip of coffee. “But you should have seen Meteor whoop a*s out there.”

“Oh, I’ll bet he did,” Bullhorn chuckled. “But it got me to thinkin’, you know, how embarrassing would it be if I met somebody else who had exactly the same powers as me, and they totally destroyed me without even trying?”

I said nothing, but my hand clenched around the handle of my mug.

“Easy, Quickdraw,” Meteor said softly.

“I mean, I saw a video taken from some kid’s phone of the whole thing on the internet, and boy did you get dusted, son!” Bullhorn laughed.

I gritted my teeth. It was no secret that super speed was a rare power, and there was no one else in the community except for me who had it. It’s true, Streak kicked my a*s, and Bullhorn was infamous in the local hero circle for being a bully, but it didn’t help me to have him point out to me how badly I had lost. Especially now that I knew there was a video of it.

“Well seeing as how there isn’t anyone else around here who runs headfirst into people, I think you’re pretty safe in that regard,” I growled.

Bullhorn rapped his temple with his knuckles. “My head’s harder than steel, boy! But I’m guessing your throat isn’t.”

“I guess it’s easy to use your head as a weapon when you don’t have a brain to worry about,” I snapped.

“You wanna say that again?” Bullhorn straightened up.

Slowly, Meteor rose to his feet from the booth. He put one crimson-clad hand on the table. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” he said to Bullhorn.

Meteor wasn’t as tall as Bullhorn but he was easily a third as wide, and could probably benchpress Bullhorn without much trouble. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind who would win in a fight between the two. Meteor was known for being one tough customer.

Bullhorn blanched. “Just trying to make some friendly conversation,” he said.

“Anybody ever tell you that you’re a real jackass?” I said, still sitting.

“Well maybe I have unresolved issues with aggression and insecurity from my childhood!” Bullhorn said.

“Well maybe you should talk to a therapist instead of taking it out on other people!” I said.

“Well maybe I should!” Bullhorn said. He frowned, appeared to think for a second, and then left without another word.

Meteor watched as he walked away, and then he sat down again. “Don’t let him get to you,” he said reassuringly.

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” I sighed. “Streak beat me big time.”

“It was your first time!” Meteor said. “You’ve never met another person as fast as you are.”

“Exactly!” I said. “I don’t really know how to fight because I’ve always been faster than everyone else. I can land a hit before they can even think about it, but I’m useless against someone else with super speed.”

Meteor flattened his sandwich with one hand and then lifted it to his mouth. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I need you to teach me how to fight,” I said.

“Without hesitation, my friend!” said Meteor, his voice muffled by the sandwich. “But my style works best for someone who’s...uh...a little bigger than you.”

That much was true. Meteor was an even six feet and built like an entire college football team, and I stood five nine with my boots on and was what most people would describe as ‘lanky’. I was determined not to let that stand in my way, though. If I couldn’t beat Streak, there was no one else who could.

“You know how hard I can hit,” I said. “Just teach me the basics and I’ll adapt them to my own style.

“You got it!” said Meteor, and smiled. “But uh, first let me finish this sandwich.”

“Okay, take off the blindfold,” came Meteor’s voice.

So I’ve said how secretive Meteor is? It shouldn’t surprise you, then, that he agreed to train me and let me use his personal battle room as long as I didn’t know its location. It’s true that there are a lot of people out there who would love to know where Meteor hangs out, but I think he was taking it a bit too far in not trusting me. I mean, what’s a sidekick for, right? He was adamant, though, and so I had no choice but to agree.

I slipped the blindfold off of my eyes and took in my surroundings. “Wow,” I said, and that was pretty much all that I could say. First of all, the room was huge. I have no clue what kind of place we were in that would have that much space. Secondly, there was training equipment absolutely everywhere. All around me were weight racks, punching bags, practice dummies, and various other gym machines like a treadmill and a speedbag. There was even a big hemispherical structure made out of bars, like they have on playgrounds, and a huge medieval-looking obstacle course that ran the length of the perimeter. I couldn’t see too well inside it, but I was able to catch a glimpse of vertical pillars covered in spikes and swinging pendulum blades suspended from the ceiling.

“Wow,” I said again.

“Wow indeed!” Meteor replied. “Welcome to my training grounds!”

“Where did you get all of this stuff?” I asked.

“The internet,” Meteor said. “But never mind that. For now comes the time to build you into a fighting machine! An unstoppable dynamo of truth! A hurricane of fists, feet, and elbows that none shall be able to stand against! Are you ready, chum?”

“Sure, yeah,” I said. To be honest, I wasn’t super stoked about this. I was generally a pacifist by nature, but this was completely necessary. The next time I fought Streak, I had to win.

“I have assembled an extensive curriculum designed to turn that runner’s body into a rock hard engine made of meat and speed!” Meteor exclaimed.

“I don’t think that’s totally necessary,” I protested. “I just need to beat Streak.”

“First!” Meteor continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “We learn the basics of the bar room brawl! Villains don’t fight fair, you know, so you need to be prepared. Then, I’ll teach you how to strike quickly and efficiently! No sense in wasting valuable energy! After that we go over cardio. You can run fast, but how fast? And for how long? Could you outrun a rabid cheetah with shoulder-mounted guns that fire venomous darts, or an irate military robot that’s just spent a really long time in a customer service line and only got eighty percent back on its refund because it didn’t bring the receipt?”

“You’re being weird again, man,” I said.

“And finally, when you’re ready,” his tone grew soft and became one of grim excitement. “We tackle the Gauntlet.” He gestured to the obstacle course around the room.

“That thing looks splintery,” I said.

“IT IS THE UTMOST IN SPLINTERY TECHNOLOGY!” Meteor boomed, his voice echoing around the room like it was coming from a jumbotron. “YOU WILL GET SLIVERS THE LIKES OF WHICH YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN! EVERYTHING IN THIS ROOM IS DESIGNED SPECIFICALLY TO MAKE YOU BAWL FOR YOUR MOMMA! YOU WILL BRUISE, AND YOU WILL HURT, AND YOU WILL CRY, AND BY THE END OF THIS YOU SHALL BE INVINCIBLE!”

This was a side of Meteor I had definitely never seen before. He seemed like a giant teddy bear most of the time, like someone you could kick back and chill with who would be your best friend. Having been a team with him for the past few years, I could attest to that. Even in battle I had never seen him with any kind of actual bloodlust; he always took a calm yet enthusiastic approach to any fight we had ever been in. Now he had a drill sergeant's gleam in his eye, like a snake eyeing a rodent that hadn’t seen it yet.

“I really only need to be able to fight another speedy,” I said weakly.

“Fair enough,” said Meteor, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get started.”

I pursed my lips and looked at the ruined punching bag, now saggy and full of holes from which steady torrents of sand were leaking. “I’m guessing that was probably expensive.”

“It’s okay,” Meteor said. “I shouldn’t have told you to hit it as hard as you could.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I mean, I already broke the treadmill and the speed bag.”

“We learn from our mistakes, friend!” Meteor said. “We just need to switch gears.”

“I’ll get a broom,” I said.

I swept up the sand while Meteor stood with his chin in his hand, looking contemplative.

“Alright, I’ve got it,” he said. “You’ve got to slow down so you can speed up.”

I scratched my head, corralling the sand into neat piles. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Not yet it doesn’t!” Meteor said. “I need you to slow down to the speed of a regular person. We’ll go over the moves again and you can slowly work your way back up to full speed. With great practice comes great ability, as they say!”

“I don’t think that’s what they say,” I said. “But let’s give it a shot.”

“Just remember,” Meteor said solemnly. “Whatever you do, don’t go fast.”

“Go fast! Go fast!” Meteor waved his hands and pounded on the railing above the giant pit.

“I can’t go any faster!” I shouted back at him, as I slipped and slid while the huge flaming boulder rolled toward me. “Why did you grease the floor?”

“Always be prepared for any condition, Quickdraw!”

“Watch out for the sharks!” Meteor cupped his hands and shouted.

“You didn’t tell me about the sharks!” I spat water out of my mouth and freestyled for my life.

“Always expect sharks!”

“Where did you get this thing?” The seven foot tall combat robot swung its buzzsaw blade just inches above my head as I did my best to not use my super speed.

“The internet!” Meteor replied through his megaphone. “Just remember what I taught you!”

“You didn’t teach me anything about robots with saws for hands!”

“I also didn’t tell you about the other robot!”

“Other robot?!”

“You’ve got to concentrate!” Meteor shouted. “You have to focus or you’re going to die!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!”

“Careful...careful...careful!”

“Argh!” The screen flashed GAME OVER for the twentieth time, and I threw my controller down. “Why are you having me play this, again, instead of learning to fight like before?”

“You have to learn to focus, partner!”

“Thirteen...ow...fourteen...ow...fifteen. That’s all of them.” I dropped my tweezers into the box full of splinters.

“Fifteen splinters?” Meteor said. “That’s the least amount you’ve gotten yet! You’re getting good at this!”

“Some people might object to training methods where they get splinters at all, Meteor,” I said.

“And some people tear like tissue paper when they take a hit!” Meteor retorted. “In this line of work you have to have a mind like a steel trap, a body like a panzer, and a bite like a mongoose!”

I snorted and said nothing. I had to admit, though, since the time that Meteor had started training me, I had definitely improved a lot. Meteor had a nonsensical way of speaking, but he certainly knew what it took to turn someone into a fighting machine. Even after only twelve weeks, I knew how to properly throw a punch, how to perform a takedown from almost any angle; I had mastered the obstacle course and my confidence was through the roof. Meteor had delivered on all that he promised and more. On top of that, there hadn’t been so much as a word from the Syndicate or DeLuge and Teravolt.

“Well, I think it’s quitting time,” I said, heaving myself to my feet with every single one of my muscles protesting. “It’s four o’clock and I need to go grocery shopping.”

“Good work today, my speedy companion!” Meteor slapped me on the back and I winced as he hit one of my bruises. “I think the training has been a total success!”

“I would have to agree,” I said, rubbing my shoulder and heading for the door.

“I’ll drop you off in the usual spot?” Meteor asked, handing me the blindfold.

“No, take me to the Harrison’s near my neighbourhood. I’ve really been putting off my shopping.” I tied the blindfold closed and Meteor led me through the door, up the stairs, and we walked for a while then got into his car. I kept the blindfold on until he told me to take it off, then got out of the car and headed into the supermarket.

I didn’t intend to get a whole lot of things; just enough for dinner and tomorrow morning. I was pretty wiped out from training with Meteor and I really just wanted to go home.

“You’ve got that oomph, pow, and I’m thinkin’ ‘bout you now,” I sang softly while I walked through the grocery aisle with my little handbasket. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small child point at me and say something and then get pulled away by her mother, and I remembered that I was wearing my suit. It was times like this that made it abundantly clear that a lot of people still didn’t trust metahumans. Oh well. I had learned to live with it. The joke was on them, really. They would never know what it was like to experience the world with super speed.

Tacos. I was feeling tacos tonight.

“You got me going and I’m using all my gas, so let me pull it out and stick it in your- what in the world, pinto beans are two for three dollars?” I dropped two bags of pinto beans into my basket. “Guess who’s having refried beans tonight?”

I walked up to the checkout lane and placed my basket on the conveyor belt. “How ya doin’?” The cashier started grabbing the items and scanning them as I unloaded my basket. “Oh hey, you must be one o’ them superheroes, right?”

“Protector of the weak and defenseless; that’s me,” I replied, a little more sarcastically than I meant to.

“I always thought it would be pretty neat to have super powers,” the cashier said. He was an older man, probably in his fifties, with a scraggly beard and coke bottle glasses. His name tag read ‘Hi, my name is ____Frank____’.

“It has its moments,” I said. “But you get punched in the face a lot, too.”

Frank laughed. “I bet, yeah. If I could have a power, I think I’d pick flight. I bet there’s nothin’ like soarin’ through the skies to put a spring in your step, ya know?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “But that does sound pretty nice.”

Frank continued to ring up my groceries.

“Hey,” he said conspiratorially. “You hear about the chick who’s been zoomin’ all over town today?”

I felt my stomach scrunch up like an empty chip bag. “No…” I said.

“Yeah,” said Frank. “Gal dressed in white, just runnin’ all over the place and knockin’ people off their feet. Nobody knows what she wants.”

“I can probably guess,” I said. “Do you know where she was last seen?”

“Tv in the breakroom said a few blocks from here,” Frank said. “I just got off my break a few minutes ago, so I guess she’s still around. Why? You gonna do something about her?”

“Something like that,” I said. “Can you hold onto these groceries for me?”

“Sure thing, son, but this milk’s gonna get nasty if it’s left out for too long.”

I looked at him for a long moment, then grabbed the milk, rushed to the dairy section, put it back in the fridge, and rushed back to the register. I was probably gone for four seconds.

“Alright, you’re fast too, huh?” Frank laughed. “Go get her, tiger.”

I hauled a*s out of the store and spent the next ten minutes running through the streets, looking for Streak. I didn’t know exactly what she wanted, but whatever it was it couldn’t be good.

“Excuse me,” I started stopping random pedestrians. “Did you see someone speed through here recently?”

“Nope.”

“Did someone speed through here just now?”

“I almost got hit by a car at the intersection back there, does that count?”

“Have you seen anyone running around bothering people?”

“You mean aside from you?”

“Alright, rude.” This wasn’t getting me anywhere. “I guess I know who not to save if they’re ever getting mugged.”

This was ridiculous. How hard could it be to find the only other speedy in town?

“Hasn’t anyone seen a super fast psycho chick?” I threw my hands in the air and shouted out of frustration, which I’m sure attracted more than a few odd looks. My life had been so simple a few months ago. Write some articles, run around, kick some heads. It was easy. Now it was all so messy and weird.

“I knew I’d find you eventually,” said a voice behind me with undisguised smugness. “All I had to do was start hurting people.”

I turned around to see Streak standing just a few feet away from me. “I swear to god, if you give me that tired old ‘your compassion makes you weak’ line, I am gonna slap the garbage out of you,” I said.

Streak crossed her arms. “That’s pretty big talk for someone I sent to the hospital.”

“How about I return the favor?”

Streak looked taken aback for a moment, and then she smiled. “Ooh, you’re sassy. I’m going to have fun with you.”

I tensed, bracing myself to take a run at her, when she held up her hand.

“Hold on, now,” she said. “We aren’t going to fight.”

“Oh no?” I asked.

“No,” said Streak. “We’re going to race.”

I raised my eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“What makes you think I’m not just going to tackle you to the ground?”

“Because I’m the only person who knows where I put the nerve gas dispensers.”

My blood ran cold. “What?”

“You heard me. And those dispensers are going to let out a lot of nerve gas in a very populated area in, oh,” she stroked her chin and mimed having to think. “About five minutes.”

“What’s your game, then?” I asked through clenched teeth. She might just be yanking me around, but I had to take her completely seriously just in case she was telling the truth.

“We’re going to race to the city square,” she said. “It shouldn’t be too hard; it only takes me three minutes to run there from here. I’ve placed the remote for the gas dispensers on top of the fountain statue. If you beat me to it, you can stop the timer.” She smiled. “But you won’t get there first.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I asked.

“You can’t take that risk, can you?” She said with exaggerated sweetness. “Are you really willing to let people die because you’re too much of a p***y to race me?”

I felt my eye twitch involuntarily. “You’re on.”

“Tick tock,” said Streak. She turned to run, and I kicked off the pavement after her.

We must have looked pretty odd to any bystanders; two blurs of motion vying to get ahead of one another. I didn’t care how much Streak boasted. There was no way I was going to let her beat me, especially not with how hard I had been training. She may have been good at fighting, but speed belonged to me. Cardio was my middle name.

We ran through the streets of Nova City, basically neck and neck, occasionally shooting dirty looks over our shoulders at each other. Neither of us were going to give any ground as we dodged and weaved between moving cars, which couldn’t hope to match our speed. Our legs pumped and our chests heaved with exertion as we ran at top speed toward the city square. A man came out of an office and went to cross the street, carrying an armful of papers. He must have heard a weird, doppler-distorted “Sorrryyyyy!” as Streak and I bolted past him, scattering his papers to the wind with our slipstreams.

“Give up...pansy…” Streak sounded pained.

“No!” I shouted back. “Not if...there’s any chance...you’re telling the truth!”

“You know...that I’m...faster!” She said.

“Baloney!” was all that I said.

My lungs were beginning to hurt. Normally I could run for fifteen or twenty minutes straight before I began to get tired, but I was going at top speed and had been training all day in Meteor’s gauntlet as well. To my great relief, though, Streak looked like she was considerably more tired than I was. It was beginning to look like she really was all talk.

Without warning, Streak veered off into the other side of the road, into oncoming traffic. I don’t think the drivers knew what was coming toward them, but they hauled on their steering wheels in an attempt to avoid Streak. Some cars went up onto the sidewalk and crashed into the surrounding buildings, some rear-ended each other as cars in front of them slammed on their breaks, and others mashed their sides together with deafening squeals of metal on metal.

“Hey, stop that!” I shouted.

“Make me!” Streak responded.

So that was it. She knew she couldn’t outrun me, so she had put me in a very tight spot. Should I stop and help the crash victims, should I stop Streak herself, or was it better to keep trying to run ahead to get to the remote control? Meteor was usually the one to make these kinds of decisions.

I had to keep going, I decided. Chances were that every single person on the sidewalk and in those cars would have a cellphone and would call 911, so they didn’t need me to stop and help them. That meant I had to choose between Streak, who would definitely cause more destruction to try and stop me, and the nerve gas, which would certainly kill a lot of people within an undescribed range.

“What’s the matter…” I shouted. “You don’t think you... can stop me without….dirty tricks?”

“Shut up...piss stain!” Streak shouted back. “I can do...whatever...I want to!” Her voice was faltering; she was definitely flagging.

“Nice mouth! I would ask if you...kiss your mother with it, but...she probably...taught that language to you!”

Streak shrieked something unintelligible and corrected her course to intercept mine. You might say that I have a superhuman ability to push people’s buttons.

I kept my focus on Streak, using my peripheral vision to avoid obstacles. She got closer and closer to me, just as I had hoped. When she got close enough, with a hoarse yell, she leapt straight at me. I followed suit and we collided in midair, a flurry of punching fists and grabbing fingers. Our momentum carried us through the air and in hindsight, we must have looked absolutely ridiculous as we sailed down the street, through a pane of glass that two contractors happened to be carrying, and rolled across the pavement.

Seems a little familiar, huh?

We broke apart shortly after hitting the ground, rolling side by side. I was carried further and felt myself hit something solid and concrete. I looked up, dizzy and fighting off waves of nausea, to see what had stopped me.

When I heard the gentle gurgle of water on the other side of the object, I knew exactly what it was.

The fountain. I had won.

Okay, okay, so it was a technical victory. But I could have gone for longer, and Streak was on her last legs. I won, fair and square.

“Ha!” I shot to my feet and immediately fell over again. “I- oof! I won!”

“You did not!” Streak’s voice came in a wheeze from some distance away.

“I did!” My vision swam.

“You cheated!” I couldn’t see Streak, but it sounded like she was just as dizzy as I was, and even more tired.

“It’s a contact sport, baby! Whoo!” Slowly, steadily, I climbed to my feet. I held onto my knees and panted, trying to keep my balance.

Streak was across the cobblestoned area around the fountain. A green, verdant park surrounded that, encircled by a fence. We had sailed through the gate, away from the street, and separated as soon as we hit the cobblestones.

Streak had adopted a similar position to mine. Sweat poured off of her face and her breath came in big, heaving gasps. “I’m gonna fu-” an eighteen wheeler roared past on the street, driver leaning on the horn. “-ing kill you!” Streak finished.

“You can’t catch me, you jackass!” I responded, and turned to face the fountain. Time to get that remote.

Streak continued to fling obscenities at me as I swung one leg over the edge of the fountain and stepped into the water. It lapped refreshingly around my knees as I staggered to the statue in the center of the water; a caped, barrel chested hero standing with her fist held triumphantly skyward. I grabbed onto the statue’s other arm, fist on her hip, and used it to leap up, wrap my legs around her, and climb upward. Streak’s expectorated threats became less and less intelligible as I climbed higher and higher up to the hero’s head, twenty feet off the ground. Finally I hoisted myself up onto her shoulders, straddling her neck and preparing to stop the flow of nerve gas.

And there was no remote.

“There’s no remote,” I said. “It isn’t here.” My mind filled with images of frantic, panicked people clutching their throats and falling to the ground to breathe their last. It occurred to me that I would probably be included in those people.

Then I realized that Streak was here too. There was no way she would put herself in that kind of danger. She was egotistical and easily enraged, but she wasn’t stupid. That must mean…

The sound of Streak’s harsh laughter floated across the square, like an airborne bear trap full of nails.

The nerve gas was a ruse.

“I got you!” She said. “You’re such an idiot!”

“There never was any nerve gas,” I said.

“And you totally fell for it!” She pointed her finger up at me, who was sitting like a moron on top of a statue, as she guffawed.

I did fall for it. She tricked me into racing her.

For what?

“Wait a minute,” I said. “The nerve gas is a lie, which means that there was no reason for us to race...except that you wanted to.”

“That’s not why,” Streak’s laughter stopped abruptly.

“You totally did!” I continued. “You had no other reason! You wanted to race another speedy, and you lost!”

“Shut your mouth!”

“You lost! I beat you!” I descended the statue and jumped that last few feet into the water. “You’re the only other speedy I’ve ever met, probably the only other one in the city, and you’re second best!”

Streak cracked her knuckles and stood up straight.

“Not for long,” she said.

This was it. I had trained for months for this exact moment. No one else around. Just me, her, and my old friend adrenaline.

“I’m certain of three things,” I said. “One, I’m faster than you are. Two, my socks are thoroughly soaked. And three, I’m going to thrash you.” I stepped out of the fountain and onto the cobblestones. “Bring it on.”

“Nobody’s gonna save you this time,” she growled, advancing on me. “I’m gonna put you in a pine box six feet underground.”

Without another word, we were upon each other. She swung and I caught her wrist, and responded with a punch of my own that landed on her ribcage. She moved backward and I took the offensive, charging in toward her with my shoulder. She stepped around and stuck her foot out, tripping me. I stumbled but didn’t fall over, but I had lost the advantage for the moment. I felt a heavy hit in between my shoulder blades that made me gasp with pain, and I noticed with a strange detachment that there was a small crowd gathered in the square. Where there’s free entertainment, there are crowds, I guess.

I twisted myself around in time to avoid another swing, and I responded with a kick to the side of her ankle. She cried out and staggered sideways, leaving me an opening to sweep her legs out from under her. She hit the stones with a heavy thud.

I was doing it. I was winning.

“We don’t have to do this,” I said. “You can give up now.”

“Like hell I’m gonna give up, and like hell I’m gonna lose to you!” She rolled her shoulders and swung her knees, using her momentum to land back on her feet.

“Come on,” I said. “What’s the point of this? Are we just going to keep fighting until one of us gets killed?”

“Yes!” She raised her left arm and I oriented myself to block it. I realized it was a feint when she brought her other arm up. I managed to block in time to deflect the blow onto the side of my neck instead of my head, but boy did it hurt. I put my fists up in front of my face and ducked away to regroup.

If Meteor could see me now, I thought. I hope he’d be proud.

“This only ends one way!” Streak said. “You die!”

She let loose a flurry of punches onto my shoulders and head as I held my forearms up to block. I backed away and purposely left my midsection open, setting her up for a trap.

She charged me exactly as I hoped she would, getting her shoulder into my stomach and making me double over as she carried me to the ground. I got my legs underneath her and threw her bodily off of me with a heave that made my tired muscles burn.

I saw that move on an old tv show.

She let out a gasp as she hit the ground flat on her back, and I knew she had gotten the wind knocked out of her. I stood over her enough to menace, but not close enough for her to hit.

“That’s it,” I said. “Give up now, or face certain defeat.”

Damn, it felt good to say that.

She gasped and twitched on the ground, fingers clawing at the cobbles as she tried to get her breath back, when I noticed her eyes weren’t on me but on something in the sky. Suddenly, a laser bolt screamed past me and left a scorch mark on the stones by my foot. I threw myself to the side in a dodge roll, hitting the ground roughly and coming clumsily to my feet. I looked up and there was a giant helicopter hovering overhead, a rope ladder already falling out of the open door. I had been so engrossed in the fight that I hadn’t even noticed it flying in.

“Get in the damn chopper, Streak!” An angry voice belted out from the helicopter’s com system. As I watched, Knuckle jumped from the helicopter and landed on the cobbles next to Streak, leaving deep craters where his feet hit. A small face popped up over his shoulder, and I realized that Faultline was riding piggyback on him. Our eyes locked, and as soon as I had started to run toward them, a jagged ring of stone erupted from the ground around them, blocking them and Streak from me. I skidded to a halt like a hockey player to avoid hitting the impromptu wall. After a second the helicopter started to pull away, Knuckle holding onto the rope ladder with one hand, Faultline still on his back and Streak wedged tightly in his other arm. I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand and watched as the helicopter ascended into the sky, flying away until it was a tiny black dot among the clouds.

“S**t,” I said.

Author's Note

It's like Rocky, but with less beef boxing.