Volume 2: Prophase

Issue 5: Submerged

Jannette Adrian Churchwell

By Nova

From my vantage point on the rooftop, I saw the Wolfpack handing off the duffel bags to the First Way. I had less time than I realized. I quickly slid down the ladder I had come up on. My palms burned from the friction, but I bit my tongue—screaming would just give away my position. Before my hands were even fully healed, I pulled my bike from behind the dumpster and set off. I was suddenly thankful that I had an electric engine on it, it made my approach much quieter as I quickly closed in on them.

If I had more time, I would try to get into a hiding spot and listen to whatever they might be saying. But I doubt they planned to stick around long enough for me to eavesdrop. I just had to be quick and stop as many as possible; hopefully they were still loading up.

I skidded around the corner just in time to see a First Way goon throw the last of the duffel bags into the rear van. They all stopped to look at me, like a deer in headlights, before a cry of “Hero!” rose up from them and they scrambled toward their vehicles. The Wolfpack all scattered—some driving towards me and others away—while the vans skidded down the alleyway, tires squealing.

I followed after the vans. If I were to get any answers, it would be from the First Way. Their wheels were still screeching when I caught up to them. Both of the vans looked nearly out of control as they swerved onto the street, barely making the corner. I pulled up alongside the one in the back. I grabbed my baton and raised it—preparing to smash the driver’s window—when I saw the flash of a pistol. The window shattered and I swerved back from the van just in time to dodge a bullet, which ricocheted off the asphalt. There was another bang, this one better aimed, and I was nearly knocked off my bike and felt a bullet embed itself in my right lung, shattering a few ribs in the process.

A slight cry of pain escaped my lips before a violent coughing fit overtook me. Blood spilled from the gunshot wound, splattering all over my bike. But my power was already on it, pushing the bullet out, sealing the wound, and repairing my punctured lung. I swerved around the road to make myself a harder target as I regenerated, and it was only a few seconds before I was completely healed.

I quickly closed the gap again, this time angling myself toward the front van. I drove in front of it. Before they could get a shot off at me, I looked back and measured the distance between myself and the van.

We were close enough.

I braked hard and felt the bike beginning to spin out of control. I angled its handlebars towards some bushes on the side of the road—hopefully it would deposit itself there—and then pushed myself off the bike. It flew out from under me and I hurtled toward the van, aiming for the windshield, behind which I could see the shocked faces of the driver and passenger.

I spun through the air and, swinging my baton as hard as I could, I smashed into the windshield, shattering a chunk of it and making a good-sized hole. I slammed into it, beginning to tumble off the front of the van, but kept myself put by grabbing the hole with both hands. I slid onto the roof, but stayed in place as the glass cut into my hands. Pain rolled through my fingers as blood poured freely from them. My power repeatedly healed the damage I kept causing.

There was another shot as a bullet passed through the roof, missing me by inches. I pulled myself forward, toward the hole in the windshield. Another shot rang out, the bullet passing through my right leg.

Painful, but still minor damage—not enough to stop me.

With a final grunt, I threw myself through the hole, and fell in a crumple in between the driver and passenger. “What the fuck?” the passenger shouted, angling his gun towards me, but before he could pull the trigger I kneed him in the face. My power got to work the second I made contact, and I targeted his finger muscles. I tore each one apart, before striking at his heart, giving him a brief heart attack. As the passenger sank into his chair, a croaking sound escaped his lips and the gun toppled out of his hand. I scanned the rest of the van. I saw the duffel bags in the back, as well as one more guy who raised his gun right at my face.

I pushed myself off the central console with a strong kick at the dashboard, tackling his midsection. He fired off a shot which went wild—shattering the passenger window—as I brought him to the metal floor of the van. Before we even hit the ground I was at work. I targeted his brain, kicking him into a state of REM sleep designed to mimic sleep paralysis. He wouldn’t be going anywhere, that’s for sure.

I pushed myself off him and turned toward the driver. He was scrambling for the passenger’s gun, not looking at the road as we swerved back and forth. Fortunately, there weren’t any cars on the road this early in the morning, but at this rate he was going to get himself killed. “Stop!” I shouted, but he didn’t even look at me as he kept grabbing for the gun.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Before he could get it I jumped towards him and grabbed the side of his face. He yelped, clawed at me with his right hand for a second, but far too late to do anything. I tore his muscles apart and, as his right arm fell limp at his side, put him to sleep.

I quickly went to grab the steering wheel but, as his left arm went limp, it dragged the wheel down with it, pulling the car into a hard left that slammed me against the passenger’s seat. I scrambled for the wheel to stabilize us, wrenching it straight—but too late. I briefly saw us barreling off the road, towards a tree on the bank of the river.

“Uh oh,” was all I could say.

The van hit the tree with a terrible crash. I was flung out of the van through the windshield, making a hole larger than the one I came in through. I hurtled through the tree branches, feeling bone after bone breaking with each impact. After striking one last branch, I fell out of the tree and hit the sandy riverbank with a devastating thud.

Pain burned through me. Blood gushed from me as I laid there, unable to move and my vision fading. My eyes fluttered, I saw the van, slowly rolling down the hill, getting closer to the stagnant river water with each blink. I feebly reached out towards it, wincing with pain as my arm shifted, painfully broken. Darkness overtook me as my head fell forward, resting against the ground. The last thing I saw was the van halfway submerged in the dirty water, before my eyes closed and darkness overtook me.

***

I had no idea how long I was out before I felt myself being shaken. “Stitch!” a voice cried. “Come on… wake up!”

My eyes opened and I saw a silver spear embedded in the riverbank beside me. I glanced up and saw a familiar figure kneeling beside me. She wore what could best be described as a black wetsuit, with black gloves and boots. She had light brown skin, and jet black hair sticking out from under her sleek helmet, which was a shining black and covered the top half of her face.

“R-Ripple,” I stammered.

She smiled. “Good, you’re okay. You had me worried for a second, I’ve never seen you knocked out before.”

I sat up and looked down. My whole outfit was covered in blood and I had been laying in a pool of it. “It happens,” I quietly admitted. My powers could only do so much in a short period of time and I was already exhausted from the stakeout… I was lucky I didn’t wake up a week from now.

I glanced around. The sun had risen, bathing the scene in bright daylight, which meant I was out for at least an hour. Police had descended onto the scene and were currently taking pictures of the van, which was still where I last saw it. A sudden panic rose up in me as I remembered. “There were people in there! I need to-” I started before Ripple stopped me.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “That’s been taken care of.”

“But what about the other-”

Ripple shook her head. “Don’t worry about that right now.”

“But…”

“But nothing,” she said, “I’ve never seen you this hurt before, you need rest.”

Exhausted, my shoulders sagged and I collapsed to the ground again. I heard footsteps nearing us and saw a policeman loom over me. “Ma’am… if you can… could you tell us what happened here?” he asked.

I saw Ripple look at him and stand up, seeming to tower above him. “You need to give Stitch some rest. She’ll answer when she can.”

“No… no… It’s okay,” I muttered.

The cop shot Ripple a frightened glance but took out a notepad and looked at me, expectantly. Stammering, I relayed to him what had happened and, satisfied, he thanked me and scurried away from us.

Ripple stared at him as he left, before she turned back to me. “You know, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” I said quietly.

“No, you don’t,” she said, taking a seat next to me. “You went through a lot, you can give your statement later, you know that, right?” I didn’t say anything in response and she sighed. “We found your bike, it’s kind of wrecked…”

I groaned. “It was a gift, from OhmTech, back when they were trying to get me to join the Titans…” There was no way I was going to be able to replace it any time soon.

“The Titans? You?” Ripple asked, a note of mirth in her voice. “I mean, I could see you joining Starlight or something, but the Titans? You’re better than that.”

I laughed, despite myself, and sat up again. “Yeah, well, I was just starting out and figured it could be a good way to get out of, uh…” I trailed off and fell silent. I didn’t feel like discussing how Seraph factored into that. “W-well, you know, just tried to do something new.”

“You’ll have to tell me how it ended sometime,” Ripple said after a brief pause. “But don’t worry about the bike. Tarantula’s in town and they owe me a favor.”

“Oh, but you don’t have to do that for me…” I said, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a bike. Tarantula will fix it right up in, like, an hour.”

I sighed. “Thanks, Ripple,” I said.

“No problem,” she said. “But since you don’t exactly have a way home…”

I fidgeted slightly. “I do need a ride…” I admitted.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “And I can take you to my place if you’d prefer to stay subtle.”

“That’d be great,” I said, fixing my gaze on the river in front of me. “I-I don’t know how I can repay you…”

“Seriously, Stitch, don’t worry about it,” Ripple said. “Just focus on resting up, alright?”

I nodded. “I’ll try.”

She stuck out her hand. “Ready?” she asked.

I took a deep breath. “Yeah.” I grabbed her hand and she pulled me to my feet.

“Then let’s get out of here.”