Chris had sat through the morning session of training in obedience silence, speaking only when called upon. He still didn't think much of these ignorant yokels. He would surpass all of them in a few more weeks of training and they knew it. All the EDA had going for it long term was two human monsters. Mike Dombroski was strong. Unbelievably strong. Chris remembered how powerless he had been when the man effortlessly dominated the entire classroom. If igniting truly had brought Chris to his fullest achievable strength, then he would never be able to challenge a full paragon head on.
He comforted himself with the knowledge that those human monsters relied entirely on their strength. They were clumsy oafs and he would become a graceful artist.
The teachers seemed distracted, barely paying attention to the testing they administered. Whatever. They could give him a bad review if they wanted to. What would the city do? Give a kinetic cop a bad review? Not likely.
As lunch neared, Centurion Sam stood up to announce that the afternoon session had been canceled.
Chris cleared his throat to draw some attention to himself. "You run out of material?"
"We have plenty of material," Sam said.
"Then why cancel class?"
"A terrorist action is expected this afternoon. You should all leave the downtown area immediately if you want to stay out of the situation."
Chris perked up. "Where is the attack expected?"
"I shouldn't have said anything," Centurion Sam muttered. "Dismissed. Everyone get out of here."
Chris flew down to street level and studied his surroundings. Everything seemed calm. He ducked into a nearby bar and stood in front of the television. It was tuned into a baseball game, so he waved over the bartender and asked for the news to be put on. The bartender folded her arms and asked what he was ordering to drink. Chris fished his badge holder out by the lanyard around his neck. "I'm watching the news for lunch." The woman rolled her eyes, but she complied with his request.
He took a bar stool and used his corona to slide a bowl of free peanuts over to snack on while he waited. It took half an hour and many sour looks from the bartender before the answer to his question came. There was some big announcement being made at Point Park regarding an organization challenging the legitimacy of the EDA. Some sort of Church Army. They claimed to have talents powered by the Holy Spirit instead of the Devil. Chris left the bar without a word and flew towards the park, dropping down to walk the final stretch so as to be less conspicuous.
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He saw the news vans pull up. The camera crews set up. The EDA representatives arrive. The brief statements made by each group. Then the fight began.
The normals around him watched what transpired in complete ignorance, unable to understand most of what transpired. Chris extended his corona gently to get a feel for what was happening and his jaw dropped in awe. The amount of power brought to bear by the church folk dwarfed even Mike's big display earlier in the week. Yet the man behind the building catch mowed down ranks of enemies, his corona somehow always exactly where it needed to be. The impression Chris received was of a choreographed fight sequence in a movie, with the action hero countering everything the mooks threw at him without even breaking a sweat. The damn hero even had the gall to look like a complete badass while going about it, his bulky shoulders not moving as they watched from their vantage point behind him as his opponents fell helpless before him.
Then it happened. A one-two punch that put Mike Dombroski on the defensive. Chris clenched his fists in sympathy, willing Mike back to his feet, not really sure when he had started to root for the man but certain he wanted to see him win. The beatdown continued for a time and then . . . Chris lost track of everything, his mind fuzzing out completely. When he came back to himself, more enemies were falling. Then one of the terrorists dragged cars into the air and tossed them.
A wave of terror gripped the entire watching crowd. Chris almost flew away in that moment, the emotion overcoming all rational thought. The only reason he stayed was because a primitive part of his brain couldn't decide between running or hiding. The tidal wave of fear cut off suddenly. Coming back to himself, Chris saw that Mike hovered above his opponents, most of them dead or dying. More followed, until it was one versus seven. Chris could tell the opponents were all the equal of Mike. Based on what he had seen so far, he didn't know if that would be enough. The church guys might want to retreat. Surely Nallit wouldn't kill his own people.
The demon yelled for the action to continue and Mike took out another opponent with a superhero punch that gruesomely decapitated the man.
The remaining six church men drove in towards Mike, who slammed into the next closest opponent, seizing the man in what looked like a guillotine choke, wrapping his legs around the man as he squeezed and launched them both skyward. Nallit yelled "too high!" and the corona of a god smacked both of them back to the Earth. Mike stumbled back to his feet after the impact. His opponent did not. The remaining five surrounded him from above.
Brutal attacks rained down, and Chris could tell that most of them were landing. Mike bounced around car remains and dirt mounds like a pinball racking up points, curled into a fetal position. The beating continued for several minutes before easing. The moment they did so, Mike struck out with his own corona, and another man died. That brought the tally of enemies down to four.
Four proved enough to give him the pinball treatment again. Chris swallowed as he watched the action. He wasn't sure he belonged on the front lines of the coming wars against extremists.