Season 1, Episode 4 - The Microwave XX - "Lynn vs Bandana"
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Back at the warehouse. As Babs conducted her deal with Abdyl of the European Consortium of mobsters, Marie arrived inside at her usual deadpan pace to tell everyone that they had a problem, and not a moment too soon.
The metal doors on the opposite of the warehouse, big enough to drive a tank through, suddenly exploded open, hot fragments of metal splintering everywhere, striking the smugglers and Revere Gang members alike. Lynn quickly slid behind a wooden crate while Babs stood calmly. The rest of the Revere gang members scrambled to find cover. Several enforcers gathered in a semicircle to protect Abdyl, pistols raised.
When the cloud of dust kicked up by the explosion settled, Lynn peered above the wooden crate and saw a white van backing through the enlarged opening into the warehouse. The back doors of the van were kicked open and a number of tough-looking kids jumped out, all of them wearing red headbands or armbands.
“It’s the Dawes Gang!” Mallory exclaimed, red energy crackling in her fists.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Babs!” Abdyl declared, throwing a bag of money on his back. While several smugglers laid down covering fire, Abdyl and his gang sprinted off to deeper into the warehouse, presumably toward another side entrance, leaving Babs and company to deal with the rival gang.
Several Dawes fighters ventured towards the opened back doors of Marty’s van. “They’re going for the New York Minutes, sir,” Marie pointed out.
Red energy crackled and swirled around Babs, who’s fists were clenched but her smile was wide and filled with enjoyment. “This is why the Revere Gang beat them out! Who the hell attacks their way through a warehouse when they could’ve just seized the van from the front?”
She looked around at her other gang members, all of them shaken by the sudden explosion and interruption. “And who the hell wants to live forever? Hot damn, Mallory, lead the vanguard! Samuel, you and Martinez secure the remaining New York Minutes and get them to the van! Marie, activate the boombox!”
“The boombox?” Lynn repeated.
Babs grinned. “It’s exactly what you’d expect.”
From behind a crate, Marie reached into her a red Rddhi-filled sleeve and pulled out a black boombox – yeah, Lynn didn’t understand how she could fit a whole boombox in there, either - and gently placed it down next to her. She pressed PLAY and nodded at Babs.
“What is this?” Lynn asked, punk-sounding guitars and drums blaring and echoing across the warehouse, filling Lynn's ear drums and, admittedly, getting her blood pumping and adrenaline flowing.
Babs climbed on top of Lynn’s crate, red energy shooting upwards out of her. “I don't give a damn ‘bout my reputation! Let’s go!”
Babs jumped off the crate and entered the maelstrom, leading the charge, her blue jacket and red Rddhi trailing behind her.
Lynn looked over at the other members; Samuel and Martinez let out war cries and charged after their leader, no fear in their eyes as they faced the onslaught of the Dawes.
Rddhi circled around Lynn's shoes.
Someone who's working for something greater than themselves, huh...someone who knows what's real and what isn't.
Lynn felt plagued by questions she had never thought of before ever since interacting with the Revere Gang, their arrogant smiles and cocksure grins. The path to the answers seemed a bit simpler now:
After her!
Lynn vaulted over the crate and followed the Revere fighters into the fray.
The Revere vanguard smashed its way into the Dawes front. Mallory slid across the floor, her own friction coefficient under her complete control, and slammed her fist right into the face of a stocky Dawes. She propelled herself backwards, dodging a Dawes lunging with his knife.
Babs herself danced around her opponents, dodging pipes and wrenches and clubs, smiling wide and carefree. Lynn had to smile too. Babs was literally dancing her way across the battlefield, timing her punches and elbows with the beat, adding a flair of red energy to each step, each coordinated move of her body that looked elastic and flexible and moved like water, calm and steady until it escalated into a sudden torrent.
Lynn had to take her eyes off of Babs’ dance when a Dawes fighter blocked her path. He was tall and stocky, wearing black goggles that hid his eyes and two red bandanas, one around his head and the other around his mouth.
Is that even comfortable to wear?
The bandana-man observed the flickering red energy that raced up and down Lynn’s body. “Mutant,” he declared, his beefy hands tightening around a large steel pipe, random screws and bolts adding an edge of pain to it.
Lynn frowned. “That wasn’t very nice. I didn’t do anything to you.”
“You exist,” Bandana explained. “In the old Elizabeth Pond, everyone used to be equal in their poverty. It brought us together in its own way. Then the Rddhi-plutocratic complex moved in. Rich folk moved into the Pond. Us, the real citizens of the Pond, we lost our community, got pushed to little corners where the rich wouldn’t have to think of us.”
He raised a fist to the heavens. “But the streets…us bikers still had the streets! It didn’t matter if we got pushed into ghettoes, if the wall was erected around the Pond and locked us in...we could still find freedom in the streets, a summer night ride across the district, under the streetlights and gas lamps, a cool breeze on your face. But not even that was safe from the Rddhis. Your Revere Gang - the mutants even took over the street gangs! You and your leader are freaks! How could we ever compete with a people - if I can even call you that - that are completely different from us!"
He smashed his pipe on the ground, cracks stretching from the point of impact across the floor. "But I'll keep competing, no matter the odds. This is a war for my home. I won’t stand by and lose my last bit of freedom.”
Bandana looked down at Lynn menacingly, pointing the pipe at her. “And I especially won’t lose it to a bunch of mutants. You’re freaks. I look forward to the day New England rises up and we put the Rddhis in their place.”
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Lynn tapped her foot in place, letting energy build up inside of it. “Well, I respect your right to free speech, Mr. Bandana, but frankly, I think you’re sort of a jerk. Me and the other Rddhi users, we’ll all human, just like you, just like everyone.” Lynn held up her collar. “You like bandanas, and I like old jackets. See? We both got human interests and hobbies. I hope you reconsider how you feel.”
Bandana simply raised the pipe above his head, ready to strike.
Red energy swirled all around Lynn, who couldn’t help but smile. “Please don’t use what I'm about to do to your physical wellbeing as an example of a Rddhi using her powers to keep you down. It’s got nothing to do with powers or anything. It's just that judging people before you get to know them is wrong, and unfortunately, it looks like I have to beat that into you.”
1990s punk rock blared across the warehouse as Bandana swung his club down right where Lynn stood, but she vanished without a trace.
Bandana grunted, taking a step back, scanning the area around him, when he felt a sudden impact in his ribs. He looked down and saw Lynn next to him, smiling, her fist connecting with his stomach. Bandana swung the pipe downwards, but Lynn disappeared once more.
He then felt a blow to the back of his head. He spun around with the pipe, seeing Lynn for a moment, but she vanished just as fast, his pipe connecting with nothing but air.
Bandana twirled the pipe around his hand. He then felt a fierce blow the small of his back from what must’ve been a kick. He stumbled then spun around, but right after he did that, another blow struck his back. He turned, and another struck his ribs, his thigh, his back again, his neck, his arms, his stomach, his chest, over and over, blow after blow, Lynn only visible for the briefest of moments before disappearing back into a blur.
Bandana stumbled backwards, then received an uppercut to his jaw that nearly knocked him off his feet.
As he saw stars, Lynn appeared before him, her smile still on her face.
“Super speed,” Bandana supposed, wiping the blood of his mouth.
“Not exactly,” Lynn answered gently. “You don’t gotta keep fighting.”
“Back down from a mutant?” Bandana questioned. “Not a chance!”
Lynn sighed and disappeared from view as his pipe came crashing down-
Between the fighting, yells, and punk rock music, Lynn could just make out the noise of approaching cars. She looked back at opposite wall, where the Dawes fighters busted through the big delivery doors, and through the opening, she could see it-
Several unmarked white vans skidded to a halt beyond the warehouse. The back doors of the vans were kicked open and a number of men jumped out, dressed in black suits and equally black fedoras.
That could only mean one thing.
Bandana lowered his pipe, the fighting between the Revere bikers and the Dawes Gang coming to a chaotic end, since everybody knew what a uniform like that meant.
“The Staties!” Samuel screamed out.
Everyone in the warehouse realized the weight of the situation. Marie turned off the boombox, Lynn now only hearing screams of fear and sobs.
The State Police officers began pouring into the warehouse. One of them yelled, “Secure the microwaves!” and another one of them yelled “Lay down your weapons!” but nobody decided to do that since surrendering to the Staties would result in a one-way ticket to the Piscataquis logging camps. Not helping matters was several officers opening fire with their iconic Tommy Guns, shattering light fixtures, glass and fragments of wood and metal raining down on everybody inside the warehouse.
Lynn breathed unevenly, trembling all over, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead, terrors of that night in Pennacook coming back to her.
I need to get away. I need to get away now!
Lynn was ready to run to the other side of the district, but she realized then what was about to happen to Bandana.
The unrelenting rat-tat-tat of Tommy Gun fire took out of the legs of several Dawes fighters; Bandana braced himself for the pain and misery. Instead, he felt a sudden impact into his side, tackling him to the ground. He looked up and saw Lynn was the culprit, laying on top of him.
“You still mean to fight?” Bandana questioned, not realizing what she did for him.
Lynn smiled weakly. “Another time,” she answered. Bandana then noticed the bullet wounds in her shoulder and arms.
“You got shot,” he simply said.
Lynn shrugged. “That tends to happen to us Rddhi users quite a bit.”
A new presence pulled Lynn by the back of her collar off of Bandana. A State Police officer, holding her in the air with a muscular arm, quickly jabbed the barrel of his Tommy Gun below her chin. “Boss, we got ourselves a live one!”
The lead Statie, in the middle of cracking some Dawes skulls with a baton, nodded. “Bring her in. We came here to grab the microwaves for the Chief, but a live Rddhi user caught in the act of dealing illegal contraband - that's a promotion for sure!”
The officer nodded, then screamed in pain, courtesy of a metal pipe to the shin. As he hobbled on one leg, Lynn kicked him in the chest, forcing him to let go. She landed on her feet, but he already brought the Tommy Gun up to fire at her.
The bullets caught her in side of the face right as she vanished away; she skidded to a stop a few feet away and stumbled around, bringing a hand to her temple, feeling blood. Bandana took a look at her, then heard several Dawes fighters calling for him, telling him they cleared a path to flee the warehouse, but that would mean she couldn't flee, so brought his pipe down on the officer with all his might. The Statie nimbly dodged the pipe, then shot at him with his gun, but his aim was off, the bullets whizzing past Bandana.
Too close to shoot, the officer decided to swing his Tommy Gun as a melee weapon; Bandana swung at the same time with his pipe. Lynn heard a terrible cracking sound – well, two terrible cracking sounds – as both Bandana and the officer went down.
Lynn slid next to the fallen Bandana, checking his pulse. She sighed in relief when she felt one, though she also felt sorry about the absolutely horrible headache he would feel in the morning.
The fallen officer, meanwhile, didn’t offer any further resistance.
As for the rest of the warehouse, the Staties chased after the remaining Dawes gangsters, while the Revere gang coalesced around the van, sending out a mixture of Rddhi attacks and gunfire to keep the officers at bay.
“Lynn, let’s go!” Samuel yelled. Out of the corner of Lynn’s eye, she could see him jump off the loading dock, past the open van doors, dropping his Bren gun in the process. He looked back at it for a moment, but he decided on starting his motorcycle instead.
He immediately peeled out of there, since Samuel didn’t wait for nobody (and because he was scared).
“You heard the man!” Babs yelled, waiting at the edge of the van.
Lynn nodded, then look a look at Bandana.
“Darn, limp bodies are heavy,” she mumbled as she started dragging his body to the van.
Babs watched Lynn struggle with his weight. “Lynn, what the hell are you doing?!”
“We had some sort of odd friendship moment, and I don’t leave people I’ve had some sort of odd friendship moment with behind!” Lynn declared, grunting as she continued to drag him, ignoring the bullets whizzing past, the shouts to halt, the cries and sobs from those less fortunate in the warehouse.
Babs clenched her shaking fists. Red energy exploded upwards out from her, striking the roof above them. "You're gonna kill us!"
"We can make it!" Lynn protested, breathing heavy from exertion. "Help me out with this!"
“Fuckin’ A, just leave her!” Babs ordered the driver, but said driver, Marty, had already stepped out of the driver’s seat, letting out a loud war cry. Wielding Samuel’s Bren gun, Marty sprinted over to Lynn, screaming and shooting all the while.
Lynn pulled Bandana past him. “Thanks, Marty.”
Marty winked. “Any Rddhi user who helps the powerless is a friend of mine. Now, get him in the van!”
Marty kept firing as Lynn finally arrived the van. Mallory helped Lynn get him into the back, though she let him go right as he made it inside, his body landing with a heavy thud. While Mallory left to get on her own motorcycle, Lynn delicately placed Bandana against some microwaves.
Marty heard his gun click empty, so he threw it at approaching Staties (much to Samuel’s later lament) and fled back off the loading dock, to the driver’s seat. Babs was already sitting in the passenger seat, her arms crossed.
“Some day, huh?” Marty asked, pushing the gear shifter stick into DRIVE. “Guess the Staties must’ve followed the Dawes gang here. Good thing they entered through the other side, too.”
Babs’ eyes looked dark. “There’ll be hell to pay after this.”
“Ain’t it a bitch,” Marty supposed. He then slammed on the gas pedal and van roared out of the warehouse, followed by several friendly motorcycles.