Harvey lay there for what felt like forever, arms crossed in front of him, ready to push himself free, listening closely. It wasn’t easy. Sonar tracked vague shapes above him, through the debris that covered both him and his neighbor. It was extremely inaccurate but gave him an idea of how his partner was doing. Carroll had powers, he reasoned, so should do better than he, himself, ever could, and he, as Bouncer, would bide his time and wait for an opening. The sonic imaging with simultaneous audio amplification let him listen in on the conversation much better than he could see. If only the traumatized android next to him would chill out.
“Why is? Why? Heads. Why is heads?” stammered the genderless bald weirdo. It wasn’t clear if it was even aware of Harvey’s presence. “The heads. Covering me. Why is heads?” It almost seemed like a data loop but there was some randomization. Annoying but at least he wasn’t alone.
“I hear ya, buddy. Don’t you worry, I’m getting me out of this, then my partner and … well, we’ll make sure people know you’re here.”
“No! Heads. Heads are friends. People can’t know. They want to squash the heads!”
“Whoa, okay!” chirped Harvey, more than a little taken aback by the quick retort. “And here I was wondering if you were … uh, well, real.”
“Too real. Never asked to be a real boy. Not fair. What lives can die. Don’t want to die.”
“Shh! Okay, shush now. Make too much noise and the big mean guy up there will squash you dead for sure.”
“Mmmph!” exclaimed the android, scared into silence.
“Go to Hell, Tyrone!” came the voice of Bouncer’s partner. He didn’t sound confident of his situation. Harvey wasn’t too surprised. When the sonar came up Carroll was laid out, begging for mercy, though not very well. A pair of quick, tremendous impacts shook the building. The vibrations were like bass from a tremendous sound system, but really it was the bulk of their adversary nearly tearing down the scaffolding above. Squirming, Bouncer unsettled the debris above him, pushed one crate aside, and he was free again. Around him the lights flickered and he knew it was time.
“You gonna be okay there, little buddy?” he asked, looking down at his hapless artificial friend. If I leave you here can you get out?”
“Affirmative. I shall free my brother, the two of us will free two more, when all nine are free we shall engage components to rouse our friends from slumber. All will be functional.”
“Okay.” Said Bouncer flatly. “That’s … probably not gonna be a problem later on.” He said with absolutely no confidence whatsoever. Looking to the open door that the B.O.G. initially emerged from, Bouncer picked his way along, visually tracing electrical conduit through walls, between rafters and, finally, to a box on the wall. “Bingo.”
Opening the door on the box, he reached to the big switch on top of all the smaller ones and pulled. With a crashing sound the building went pitch black. Behind his lenses a low-light sensor flashed red. Everyone was blind except for him, Harvey Weir, AKA the Bouncer, now. Turning, he moved back out into the warehouse floor and detected much more motion than he expected.
Turned out he wasn’t the only one who could see. Already the one android had gotten the second up and they were tossing debris aside and trying to pull a third out by his exposed arm. Harvey pumped his fists, vocalizing with external audio cut so nobody could hear, trying to get his head back in the game. This fight wouldn’t be easy. Leaping up, he caught the lip of the rafter above him using the handle of one of his nightsticks, swung the other up to catch its guardrail, then up and over.
His approach was smooth, smooth and almost silent. Creeping quickly, keeping his head on a swivel, Harvey noted the position of all potential threats. B.O.G’s boys were still down. Androids were definitely non-hostile for now. Warm bodies outside were aiming obvious guns at the building; the Chupacabras.
Bouncer heard a crunch as he entered the room. All subtlety had been thrown aside at this point and the B.O.G. had decided to kill Mandusa to prevent his identity from being attached to his crimes. Observing from the darkened doorway, night vision engaged, he observed the pair playing cat and mouse. Sidling into the scene, he moved to what he believed would be the ideal position, facing his target.
"You don't get the real name, Tyrone. I don't plan on killing you. All you need to know is I'm the Mandusa." Harvey dug in his coat for something, aware that he would have only one shot at really hurting a Phi-level power.
This elicited a snort. "Mandusa?" The big bastard was pulling himself out of a hole in the floor of all things. "What kind of stupid name is that anyway? Ain't too late to have 'Fro Man on your headstone, son!"
He had his opening. Squaring up his aim, the HUD in his helmet aiding him, he threw the bait out. "Oh, I dunno. I kind of like it." He stated loudly and waited, the B.O.G. started scanning the room, as if this would help him see in the dark. Then, a deafening blast sounded and a flash of light showed both the B.O.G. and a shocked Mandusa. Head popping back, the B.O.G. grabbed his face, grunting, gasping as if unable to breathe. And then, he roared…
“Holy shit!” shouted Mandusa, scrambling to his feet but no better off as far as seeing went. “Bouncer! You shot him!?”
“That’s right! Get up top, I’m finishing this.”
“Are you out of your mind!? He’ll break you in two!”
“Yeah, don’t see that happening.” And, with the cocky swagger of someone who’s never dealt with a serious injury in his life, Bouncer waded in, switching over to his gadget-filled nightsticks again. Clutching at his face, B.O.G. didn’t even notice until twin sets of electrical contacts landed on his left back and side, arcing B.O.G.’s heart powerfully with a high-voltage snapping sound.
B.O.G. staggered forward, running into a desk with a crunch. Screaming, he swung back around, all but windmilling his arms in a clumsy, blind effort to strike his agile opponent. Seeing the damage done to the big man’s face shocked Harvey’s system, as the weapon had been all too effective. The bullet hit right where he’d wanted, striking the tear duct of the big man, but it lodged in beside his left eye so that both it and a portion of the bullet protruded from the socket. The wound was, at once, mostly aesthetic and also hideous. While the B.O.G. might have bulletproof skin Ricky’s pistol proved the Bouncer right; a high-caliber pistol was like a super power. “You! You’re dead!” B.O.G. shouted.
“And you look like shit!” retorted Bouncer, effortlessly dodging a two-fisted flail that sundered an interior wall. Dialing the next setting in, Bouncer blasted B.O.G. in his face with a pair of pepper balls, one for each eye. B.O.G.’s screams raised in pitch to sound more like a hound struck by traffic as he clawed desperately at the chemical burn. “Surrender and this all ends!” declared Bouncer, stomping the back of B.O.G.’s knee, forcing him down, and hitting a roundhouse kick to B.O.G.’s own hand that drove an invulnerable finger in for another chapter in this injury-to-eye story.
Barely catching himself on one foot, increasingly hysterical, B.O.G. shrieked “I’ll kill you! I’ll eat your fucking face!”, losing the last vestige of any cool he may have had. Finally laying hands on his invisible quarry he found his grasp turned aside, the smaller man’s hip thrust up and under, lifting and slamming the titan down into the floor, halfway through the hole his feet had made moments before.
“Why are you making it so much harder on yourself!?” asked Bouncer, launching himself onto the prone powerhouse. Unable to see, B.O.G. could do nothing to defend himself as he took repeated strikes to his exposed eyeball, his nose quickly broken by a series of precision strikes laid in using armored gloves. After much thrashing B.O.G. found a foothold on a crossbeam in the ever widening hole, stopping his descent. Finally, monstrous hands sinking in like meathooks, he got a hold on the Bouncer.
Struggling to breathe, flattened nose flooded with blood, he growled “Now! Now you get what you’ve got comin’ you damned punk! ‘Fro Man’s gettin’ his but, first, I’m rippin’ off yo’ damn head!”
“I … believe. You!” The pressure was tremendous. The augmented reality display that fueled Harvey’s enhanced awareness flashed a dozen warnings all at once as layers of bonded material first pinched together then slid across each other, threatening to tear. Flexible, they allowed Harvey to be strangled before the armor was ever compromised. B.O.G.’s longer arms kept Harvey from reaching him empty-handed so, desperate, he began hammering away at the face of his opponent using the cattle prod setting of his nightsticks as the big man protected his popped eye by turning the other way. Finally, aware that, once his neck armor gave way, his throat would shred, the Bouncer flipped a switch and an impact-activated flash bang grenades shot from the barrel of each nightstick. These went right in the exposed right ear of the B.O.G..
With a sound designed to temporarily deafen bystanders the pair exploded practically inside of the B.O.G.’s head. “GAH! What the fuck!? What the fuck was that!?” shouted the big man, releasing, clutching his ear, suddenly deaf. A clumsy, back-handed slap sent the Bouncer across the room and through a few desks. “Gkk! Guh! Can’t hear. I can’t fucking hear!” and B.O.G. let out a primal scream that raised in pitch as his squirming sent one leg all the way down through the floor.
Rolling to his feet, clutching the remaining explosives with one hand, he moved around the thrashing titan. He was probably going through that floor regardless, but sooner was better than later, so tossing one with each hand he nailed the B.O.G. in the face and feet, the resulting force sending him the rest of the way through. Cartwheeling down, landing headfirst on the warehouse floor, cursing all the way the big man was stunned, unable to stand, but recovering quickly. Bouncer made for the office steps, pretending he hadn’t seen the scrambling androids down below, looking to get back outside. Another roar from the titan below and then an earth-shaking impact dwarfing the one from his landing. Debris fell from the ceiling as Bouncer hustled, top-speed, through the second office level and made for the roof access door.
Topside, Bouncer saw Mandusa or, more accurately, Carroll Avery, rattled and not at all radiating the aura of a hero. “Shit. Harvey, what’re we gonna do!?” he asked as the building shook. “Those Chupacabra guys are all over down there, surrounding the building. And … holy shit, did you win!? What’s all that noise!?”
“Somebody’s angry.” Was all the violence fetishist could muster, suppressing a cough and tugging on the layers of his armor to keep it from pushing in on his throat. With shock the Bouncer touched Harvey Weir, his armored gauntlet going through a rend in the armor. “Holy shit that was close.” He muttered quietly, but not quietly enough.
“Close? What do you mean?” Carroll asked, fear evident in his voice. “You won, didn’t you?” A pregnant pause. “Harvey?”
“Yeah… I think we’re okay, buddy. Look, you ever try flying with that mop of yours?”
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“Fly? How? How would I…?” sputtered Mandusa as a thought emerged. “No, but … maybe I could glide?” He didn’t sound confident but it was the best chance they had.
Creeping to the edge of the roof and looking down over the retaining wall. “He’s a wounded animal, Mandusa.” Bouncer gripped the wall tightly as Carroll slid over on his hip. “I think we have about a minute, maybe less.”
Faint in the distance, muffled by layers of material between them and the B.O.G., the faint roar of that man-beast could be heard. “Wh-what? What happens in a minute?”
“Just weave us an airplane, Care. Next building’s one story shorter and about a hundred feet away.” The wretched shriek of metal stretching and rending rang out, like the wail of a thousand condemned spirits, filling the urban wasteland around them. In Harvey’s view the Chupacabras were losing their nerve; rifles no longer aimed, on their heels, backing away.
“Oh shit. Oh shit!” Mandusa whined, frantically extending and interweaving his hair, trying to form a more complex, cohesive shape than he’d ever done before. He was, effectively, trying to make his hair into temporary cloth. The work was quick though everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.
“Keep it up, buddy!” Bouncer shouted over the din of destruction. “Those goat-suckers, oh this is great, they’re dropping their guns and running!”
“What!?” he shouted back, just as a deafening ring, like the sounding of a huge, terrible bell, reverberated everywhere, and the roof started to fold slowly in towards its center. “No fucking way!” exclaimed Carroll as he started to slide towards apparent oblivion. Bouncer bum-rushed Mandusa in the newly silent New Jersey night, “No! Nono! It’s not ready!” as the pair of them went over the edge.
Both men screamed, though Harvey killed his external audio again, hiding his fear behind technology as the prolonged sound of thunder shook the night. Straining to hold his empowered hair in the shape of a rough triangle, with no idea of how to fly, Mandusa could do nothing. On his back, pulling, pushing, striking, the Bouncer managed to steer them up enough to where only Mandusa’s legs struck the very top of the next building. The pair tumbled to a stop, near the opposite edge of the relatively small abandoned apartment building. There they lay, gasping for air.
“Aw, fuck, Harvey … my legs.”
“What about ‘em?” replied Bouncer, pulling himself up.
“They hit the damned brick retaining wall, dammit. I said it wasn’t ready!” struggling, getting to his feet in spite of his protestations, Mandusa adjusted the pad on his right knee.”
“Care, calm down. Just … just look, okay?” said Harvey, again allowing himself to lose his stoic pretense. Exhaustion was setting in.
Carroll limped to the edge of the building, shoulder to shoulder with his partner, gritting his teeth with the effort of unweaving the glider he’d made with his hair. It was bad, like a paper airplane, but it had saved their lives. “The building … it imploded.” Some of the Chupacabras, too slow in retreating, were laying beside the entrance, being dragged out by their brothers.
Others began to dig, one helping one of the B.O.G.’s crew up and off the collapsed roof, miraculously having stayed there as the building fell straight down. “We did this. We did this?”
“He did it, Care.” Pause. “I don’t know what to tell you, okay? Maybe we could’ve gotten away without … pissing him off? Done more homework.”
“The Big O.G., he said, said if we were sponsored, we wouldn’t have made the mistakes we did.”
“Ignore him. Growing pains, Care, just growing pains. Can’t get the police sponsorship without showing we can hang.” Said Bouncer, hoping that his audio system would mask his tone again. The doubt hung thick in the air. They both felt it. “We gotta get out of here before they start looking for us.”
Watching the scrambling Chupacabras in their rescue efforts, the flashlights on their long rifles the only source of light, Carroll became aware that the central mass of the collapsed building squirmed somewhat, debris being pushed out from the inside in places. “Yeah. They’ve got things in hand, I think.” He felt oddly sad, regretful, caring what happened to these criminals felt wrong. “They would have killed us” he thought, “but … if we weren’t here, there never would’ve been a fight.”
The pair scrambled down the wall of the building using Carroll’s empowered hair. Normally, the pair would’ve sparred verbally or at least complained, disagreed about how they were doing things, but silence was all that seemed possible. Neither man had any desire to speak, only to get away. A few blocks away, Carroll unlocked the driver’s side door manually with the key, hitting the unlock button on the interior of the door to prevent any electronic beeping. Harvey got in the passenger seat and, for a moment, they sat silently in the dark. Harvey, in fact, had ample time to wrench his broken helmet, neck armor and all, off the collar of his suit. Then, staring forward, another minute passed, until finally; “So … that was a hell of a thing.”
“What are we doing, Harvey?”
Scoffing, Harvey gave a nervous laugh. “We’re, y’know, kicking ass and taking names.”
“Yeah? Let me see your helmet.”
“Fuck no. It’s mine. Why would you want to see it anyway?”
“It’s damaged, isn’t it?” Waiting for an answer, getting none, he went on. “I saw you messing with it, pulling at it, hard, because it was choking you, wasn’t it?” More silence. “What. Are we doing? That fight didn’t even need to happen.”
“Come on, Care! Think about what you’re saying. Fuck. Fucking … just drive, please, before we’re found out. You can bitch me out and drive at the same time, right!?”
Turning the engine over, Carroll did just that, at least from Harvey’s perspective. “I’m serious. What we’re doing isn’t working. I could’ve died. You could’ve died!”
A few minutes passed in silence and Harvey was glad for it. The thought of losing his partner now was worse than scary. They were at a crucial point; make or break. On a straightaway, northbound, he was surprised to hear the engine working harder. “Whoa, cowboy. Pace yourself. Got a ways to Manhattan.” No response. “Care? Hey … Carroll!” He shook his partner.
“Seriously, Harvey. Oh, shit. Fuck…” Carroll’s eyes fluttered, his head dropped down and he seemed unaware of his surroundings. Quickly, he grabbed the wheel, shouldering Carroll into the door and stopped the vehicle on the shoulder of the road, sitting on the center console to do so.
“Hey, uh, can you take the wheel? I think I need to lay down for a minute.”
“Huh? I … yeah, yeah, buddy just…” and Harvey trailed off as Carroll limply fell over his legs, weakly failing to move himself towards the living space in the RV. Quickly, Harvey slid over, pulling Carroll with him. There, curtains drawn, a ceiling light on, Carroll sat down.
“Hurts.” he grunted. Carroll undid the front of his jumpsuit, sliding it off so the top half lay behind him. Using his phone, he took a picture of the space under his right arm, then brought it up to see. “It’s all purple. I … I blocked that punch…”
Harvey grimaced, looking at the bruise. It was black; bone deep. “He hit you? I didn’t know.”
Carroll reeled in surprise “Harvey!” he exclaimed, “C’mon, man, you gotta drive. We gotta get out of this town.” His voice was quavering, weak.
“How hurt are you, man?” This was the first injury, first time Harvey’s actions had hurt someone he gave a damn about.
“I dunno. Hurts to breathe. I…” reaching under his arm, finding the affected ribs, he winced, grunting with pain. “Ribs aren’t … moving. Still hurts though.”
“Bruised, maybe cracked. We gotta wrap it, keep pressure on. Make it easier for you to move around.”
“Yeah. Funny thing. That’s what my hair did when I was still going one-on-one with B.O.G.. Didn’t even think about it.”
“Okay. That’s … weird. I think? Right?”
“I’m really not sure, Harv. Still getting used to this. Been about a year is all. Can you just drive?”
“Let’s wrap those ribs first, man.”
Carroll coughed twice. “I’ll do it. First aid kit’s right here under the bed. If we get caught right now I’m worthless.”
“Yeah. Yeah, man, no problem. Just keep me updated, okay? I’ll get my handset out. Text if I need to go to the hospital or you need, y’know, anything?”
Plopping down on his twin-sized RV bed, Carroll remained silent. Harvey, heart in his throat, went back up to the cab. Adjusting the mirror he saw that his throat was bright red and darkening, a clear, deep bruise he’d have to hide. Looking down at himself, he realized that the hood of his sweatshirt was compromised. Quickly as he could, he started disengaging components, getting down to the T-shirt under his armor, tossing the heavy stuff on the floor of the passenger side.
Getting on the highway, Harvey dreaded what came next. The parking guard would probably overlook a ratty-looking RV coming into the garage if clearance came with a fifty dollar tip but he couldn’t be sure. Checking on Carroll when they get there though, what would his condition be by the time arrived in Manhattan? If he had to take Carroll to the hospital there’d be questions, not just about those cracked ribs but Harvey’s own obvious injuries. He was suddenly aware that, without the compression his armor provided, there was a dull body ache covering most of his own sternum and midsection; no doubt the result of the B.O.G.’s final, flailing attack that had knocked him aside. What would a direct hit have been like? Or any hit without armor?
So, in silence, lost in introspection, Harvey made his way back. He couldn’t believe what he was considering. Since the tragedy that made him who he was, all he’d wanted to do was to hurt the criminals and thugs of the world. He couldn’t do it alone but he also couldn’t risk anybody else’s life. Well, the criminals he’d risk, fuck those guys, but still.
On the upside, Carl, the night guard, cared a lot more about meeting President Grant than any old beat-up mobile home coming into the garage. Carroll barely seemed aware of much as Harvey supported him past the doorman, who issued another Presidential pardon, then up to the rather spartan apartment he had on the top floor of this rather posh highrise.
“Harvey?” As they moved through the door to Harvey’s apartment Carroll was becoming more aware. “How’d we even get here?”
Lowering him to the couch, Harvey grabbed Carroll by the shoulder, pressing his palm into the disheveled blond’s forehead, causing him to recoil. “Hold on, just be cool. I’m trying to see if you’re feverish.”
“I’m not feverish, man, I’m exhausted.” Said Carroll, grabbing Harvey’s hand and pushing it away.
“Uh … huh.”
“What?”
“You pushed my hand away. With your hand.”
At this Carroll’s eyes sprang open. Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his hair. It was long, shaggy, unkempt, and very, very still. Pulling his undershirt (which, along with athletic shorts were all he wore at this point) up, Carroll looked down at his ribs. Though still discolored, the skin over his ribs was much lighter, the bruising mostly healed. “My powers are gone. But I’m healing so fast? What?”
“Dude, what are your powers really?”
“I don’t know! The hair doesn’t feel dead, I don’t think. Just … dormant?”
Carroll continued his self-examination providing a moment of silence in the room; the perfect opportunity for Harvey to broach the subject he hated to, but felt he had to, touch. “Listen. I’m thinking. You’re right. As a unit, this … this isn’t working. You’re good at crowd control, disarming people, kind of a gentle method. I’m stealthy and I’m the brute, no limits, get results, and, shit, if I’m honest, I did better in the fight tonight.”
“Had to throw that in, huh?” said Carroll with a wry smile.
“Seriously. Something’s missing. Tonight—” Harvey broke off in nervous laughter. “Tonight was scary, man. I didn’t come up from the bottom of the pile because I figured, ‘hey, he’s got powers, I’ll just wait and creep up, try to hit the finishing blow.’ You’re one part though, I’m another, but we’re not whole. We can’t do it alone. We don’t have someone who can meet these guys who fight like natural disasters, like forces of the universe, head on and actually get the job done. We don’t have a heavy, we need a heavy so, I’m thinking, shit, this is hard… Carroll, I think we need to get the fuck out before we die, man.”
Carroll frowned briefly, nodding, contemplating. “A heavy?”
“Yeah, man, we don’t got one. They have, like, three in the Nine but, but they’re damned rare, y’know? That guy, Big O.G., he was Phi-level powerhouse, man. Estimated. Nobody ever caught him to test. So we’d need someone like that. Tau or, or Upsilon power level.”
“I might know a heavy.”
“I mean my chest is purple from a … slap…” Eyes widening, Harvey looked at his glassy-eyed partner in wonder. Was he serious? Was he delirious? “Carroll, you can’t possibly… C’mon, just get some rest, okay? You don’t want to quit? We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“Harvey, he stays at the shelter sometimes. The things I’ve seen him do. He’s a little off but, y’know, he listens to me. You want to get serious? You want a heavy? Just wait ‘til morning. I’ll take you to therapy.”