The Head Precinct was in chaos. Alarms blared throughout the building. First responders screamed and shouted over the lines while others ran back and forth between cubicles. The noise pounded Officer Rickard’s ears, who hobbled into the first floor. He leaned against his newly acquired cane, face tight over the pain and the sight he was seeing. He yanked a Blue collared woman who was in full sprint to the side, which nearly knocked him over.

  “What’s going on here?!” he panted, “What’s happening?”

  “Officer Rickard, you’re up!” the woman said sounding surprised, “Look I really can’t talk right now. We’re getting reports that homeless have been blowing up our cars, aircrafts and taking out our men out by the dozens! We’re trying to gather as much information as we can for our guys on the ground, but we’ve also lost power in our intelligence building and only now received word that it may be due to our entire precinct having been compromised!!” her breath came fast. She grabbed her blond hair, her face red. “I-I just can’t do this anymore!! We can’t stop them, Rickard! We can’t—!”

  Rickard put his hand up weakly, “Crissy…Crissy listen to me. I need you to tell me where two people are. Chief Bennis Waters and the Red Collar, Miss Rosa. Once we get in contact with them—”

  “You didn’t know…” the woman known as Crissy took a step back, her face shook. “Chief Bennis is dead. The Red Collar killed him after he attempted to murder her and our Dr. Oswald.”

  The man blinked. His face had lost all color, “…This Red Collar didn’t happen to have…brown hair?”

  “No sir.”

  “And you’re sure it wasn’t a young man with dreadlocks instead?”

  “What? No, it was Ms. Rosa, Rickard! Do you remember what she looks like?”

  “…”

  “You two!” A Blue Collar ran up to them. “Officer Rickard, thank God you’re here!”

  “Martin?” Crissy said, “What are you doing here?”

  “Homeless have breached the perimeter and are targeting our snipers!” he said, his voice stained with panic. “They know our formation, our setup—all of it—!”

  “Martin,” Rickard said, breathing the best he could, “Descriptions, please.”

  “Two similarly dressed men with broken bottles,” he nodded, “and a woman in a raincoat with water guns!”

  The woman’s hand went to her mouth, “Their Talents?”

  “All Material, which wouldn’t be an issue if most of our men weren’t dying out there on that stupid escort!”

  “Or if Strongarm were here…” Rickard said in a low voice. The two looked at the cop as he looked up, his expression drained. “Martin…how many men did we have to defend the Precinct?”

  “About one hundred twenty-five sir. The others are stationed around—”

  “Call everyone back,” he said, “And request backup from the East, West, and Southern Precincts.” He took out his key and went for the elevator in the back.

  “Sir!” Crissy called, “That elevator’s restricted! Where’re you going?”

  “The top,” he replied, “I’m going to hold out with the others there.”

  The two desk workers ran up to the man, who stepped inside. Martin tried to enter but Rickard held his gun to the two. His face turned to a void of confusion and shock.

  “S-s-sir?! What are you…?”

  “I said I’ll hold out with the others!” Rickard said, “You two keep contacting the Reds in the meantime.

  The sound of automatic gunfire was like firecrackers that sent their head to the windows where they saw armored officers outside unloading their weapons into the dark, lighting up their helmets. Suddenly, one of the homeless men dropped in between the two, his arms swiping at their necks. The men screamed and collapsed. The homeless man looked back through the cracked window and grinned, tapping his bottle against it.

  “AHHHHHH!” someone screamed. The entire room exploded with noise, everyone either running or crying. A few began trying to push their desk to barricade the doors. All the while gunfire and screaming grew closer and closer to the room. Crissy looked back to Rickard, eyes filled with tears.

  “Rickard...please…”

  “The other precincts should get here in time, just hold out until then.”

  “What’s the matter with you?!” Martin yelled, “Your one of our last higher ranked men left! We NEED you now more than ever to be here—”

  ‘BLAM!’

  Crissy screamed as Martin cried out, falling to the ground and clutching his hip. Blood quickly pooled around his lower body.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “I’M DOING MY JOB!!” Rickard screamed. He took a breath and looked around. The entire room went quiet, everyone’s faces on the sight before them. He looked back down to Crissy, who was held the injured man, tying to press the wound. Shaking his head, Rickard tossed them his gun to them as the doors began to close.

  “When I promote,” he said, “I’ll be sure to remember each and every one of you. You will be known as the brave men and women who gave their lives to save this city. I’m doing it for all of you.”

  He could hear the room erupt as the doors shut. He fell back against the wall, his own eyes welling with tears as he clutched his badge.

  “Bennis, Strongarm,” he spoke softly, “We’ll get that seventh star.”

  …

  The Groundhogs moved swiftly, hopping across a few more buildings before seeing the transport van come close into view below. Abbas leaned in, Xole under his arm. “Young one, are you ready?”

  “I-I think!” he said, “Just bring me closer!”

  The man jumped off the high rise building they were on while Xole reached, flexing his arms. He could feel the space between his outstretched fingers close, closer, and closer—until he caught something—something very, very heavy.

  ‘Cr-POP!’

  He croaked. Pain shot through his shoulders, feeling as if they were yanked from their sockets. He watched them drooped, swaying with Abbas’s steady movement.

  “Kid!” Salamander called, “You aight?!”

  Xole tried to clench his fingers, but it felt as if knives for each one were being driven through his forearms. His mouth salivated, the strain bringing a tear to his eye. He shook his head, feeling his lips part to cry out.

  Trix looked over, “Xole?”

  “…” Then, his lips closed and the older boy said nothing. Rather his jaw squared and his brow dipped. He then clenched his fingers to tight fists, exhaling hard as his temples shook.

  “I-I’m fine…I’m fine!” he took his right wrist, gripping it. “Closer…I need to get closer!”

  “Abbas!” Patchwork said, “He’s just been shot—”

  “I will bring you as close as I can!” he said, “But they will begin to shoot.”

  “Not if we can help it!” Snap said, dashing ahead. He hurled a bundle of orange dynamite, exploding over the area in an orange haze and expanding beyond the block.

  “Huh? Dey can still see where dey goin’, fool!”

  “But they can’t see us!” he grinned. Do it, Xole!”

  Abbas burst ahead, leaping off the building and grabbing the sides of an apartment complex, his feet breaking through brick as he ran along side with one arm. Xole stretched his arms again, still hearing the squeaking.

  “Make a left here!” he shouted. The large man abruptly twisted to the side, the shape of the van becoming recognizable through the haze. His fingers clenched.

  ‘If I can’t grab the van, I’ll need to try something smaller…’ he thought, staring at the tire. The wheel suddenly screeched, turning inward as the van jolted. Then, the tire broke off. Metal snapping as the vehicle’s back corner hit the street.

  ‘Cr-wham!’

  ‘I figured! Just like the sewer lid and the cops! The closer I am, the more control I have!’

  “Abbas, I got it!”

  “Good, now hold tight!”

  “Why—”

  The large man’s arm caught the overhead stoplight. His legs shot forward and the two swung in a circle. Their bodies began to spin, and spin, and spin, until the world changed before Xole into a mash of lights and suffocating wind filling his whirlpool of a stomach. Then, they shot forward. At that moment, Xole opened his eyes, trying to un-mash the shapes mid spin. He began to make out the apartments, the metal streetlights, the cracked concrete ground, and the armored truck they were flipping towards—

  ‘CRASH!’

  The van’s side caved in before skidding to the sidewalk and hitting a coffee shop. It’s siren died with a whimper. Xole shook his dizzy head, still recovering as he heard more sirens wail behind them. The three police cars from earlier sped into view. To their right, he heard the front door of the van burst open, seeing two men in armor coming into view, high powered firearms aimed at them.

  “These them?” one asked.

  “Yep,” the other one replied, “They’re homeless, open fi—!”

  ‘Slink!’

  “Huh?” the first officer touched his arm to see a needle jetting from it. He looked at his partner who had several, then, a dozen in his back. The two moaned in pain, their limp bodies falling to the ground. Patchwork ran into view, he sighed.

  “Looks like I showed up in time,” He said

  ‘WHOOSH!’

  The doctor jumped at the flames blasting near him and engulfing the two screaming officers. Patchwork’s head snapped to Salamander, who came in with a grin.

  “Dat’s two more fo’ me!”

  Patchwork gritted hits teeth, “They were unconscious!”

  “Yeah, yeah, dey woulda shot us anyways.” The chain smoker shrugged. He looked at the oncoming cars, “Aw shit! Dere’s more?!”

  A shine flashed under the first car. Then another under the other two in a split-second chain reaction. The three exploded in a fiery blaze, sending the vehicles flipping into the road several feet away from them. Snap grinned and rubbed his nose.

  “That’s twelve more for me!”

  “T-twelve!?” Salamander gawked, “Dat ain’t fair! Dem cars be carryin’ dwo at most!”

  The young man shrugged, “Even if that IS true it’s still more than you.”

  Trix walked past the two, “You two can count later…but it won’t be more than mine.” She aimed her blade at the van door, “Now, he’s in there right?”

  “Y…yeah,” Xole nodded weakly, “Just be caref—”

  Without another thought, the woman sliced the hinges off, prying the doors open with her weapons. But Xole felt it—brief but unmistakable—a raw spike of Gi shoot to the door as Trix reached for the handle. Xole was already moving before he realized, his stomach wound tingling. He could almost feel the excited heartbeat of the Bodily cop rushing to the door.

  “No, stop!!!” he cried, shooting his numb arm out as the door burst open, the cop’s enormous hand inches from the woman’s face. Everyone else was moving too, but they were too far. Xole grimaced.

  ‘No, not this time!’ he thought.

  “Screw you!!” he shouted. He tensed his arm hard, harder than he ever had—ignoring the screaming of his arm and yanking his clenched fingers away from the cop. In that moment, the officer’s own head was thrown back the opposite way, blood exploding through his nose.

  “BLARRRRGGHHHH!” he screamed, falling to the side past Trix, his head smacking the curb. His eyes bugged and his body twitched like a dead fly. His throat gurgled and gagged before foam burst and spewed out his mouth. His head rolled to the side, his eyes still blinking. Everyone else looked at the sight, mouths gaped—especially Xole. He looked to his shaky hands, his right pulsed like crazy, veins looking as if they were going to burst out his skin. He looked back at the officer again, watching the man continue to gargle and gasp for air. Xole was so engrossed he didn’t even hear another sound behind him. Footsteps walk behind him and a hand clasp his shoulder, followed by an odd smell.

  “Well…look at that!” a dazed voice said.

  Xole’s head slowly turned to the side, his eyes widening at the familiar sight. The redheaded with shortcut hair in the green and yellow bathrobe was standing at his side, finger under his chin, inspecting the officer with a rat on his shoulder. After a moment, he nodded and gave Xole a thumbs up.

  “You just saved my sister, bro. That was pretty badass!”