Corrupted Courage Chapter 2

The wind whistled in my ears as I fell, arms outstretched like wings. The adrenaline was sweet as a sugar rush, cleansing all doubt. There was only the fall, and the sudden stop at the end.

At the last second, I tucked in my arms and legs and landed in a crouch, somersaulting to absorb the impact and coming up ready to fight. But there was no one to fight, not yet. I was alone on the roof of a stolen armored car, speeding down a busy city street.

The wind nearly tore me off the roof. Rain stung my eyes. I couldn’t stay up there; I had to get off the roof.

Below, in the car, the gunfire had stopped. I heard a male voice exclaim.

“What in the name of hell was that?” And he sounded so confused, so utterly confounded, I almost had to laugh.

I scrambled to the back of the car, where the doors swung open and flapped like fans in the wind. Gripping the edge, I swung down, hanging for a brief breathless second over speed blurred asphalt, and then bam! My feet connected with soft flesh, I heard a grunt, and then I was swinging out, out again, like a pendulum, rain blinding me, and then on the next swing inward I let go, and landed in a heap, stolen money fluttering around me like dry leaves.

I was on my feet again in a moment, no time to catch my breath. The interior of the armored car was cramped, not much maneuverability.

Two guys with big guns were staring at me in shock, a third, presumably the one I kicked, was moaning on the floor.

These guys were clearly amateurs; in their surprise they hadn’t even raised their guns. I took advantage and charged, my knives raised. But I underestimated my opponent, he dodged, and I stabbed air. He brought the butt of his gun down hard, aimed at my head. I jumped back, but not far enough. The gun smashed into my shoulder and I stumble, nearly falling.

My first instinct was to zap this guy, but I knew I had to save my strength. Using my power always left me weak and exhausted afterwards, best to avoid it if I could.

Instead, I retaliated with a blow to the side of his knee. He went down hard, and I pinned one flailing arm with a knife blade through the palm. The blade, cruelly sharp, sliced through muscle, tendon, and even the metal floor of the car with ease. He was trapped.

I gripped my remaining knife even tighter and spun to meet my second attacker.

He was ready for me, gun raised and pointed at my head. I was faster though. I forced the muzzle up, away from me. The gun went off with a deafening bang, and suddenly the car was full of ricocheting bullets.

Glass shattered behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the driver turn around in his seat, glass from the windshield in his skin.

“ Just kill the bitch already!” He screamed, spit flying from his mouth.

I glanced over at him just long enough to see he wasn’t an immediate threat, then returned to my current predicament. I ripped the gun from my opponent’s hands and jammed an elbow into his windpipe. He sagged against the wall with a gurgle.

And that was when everything went wrong

Without warning, a blow from behind sent spots dancing across my vision. I shook my head to clear it and turned, already preparing for a fight.

It’s the first guard I took out. Blood was pouring from his nose, but he was on his feet, and clearly I had made him pretty angry. I tried to get my knife up, but he grabbed my arm and threw me against the far wall with a guttural scream.

I felt something crack as I collapsed to the floor, money blowing past my eyes and out the open doors. There was a moment’s quiet, a silent gasping moment of expectant peace, before the pain hit.

When it hit, it was the worst pain I’d ever felt. I sucked in a gasp- big mistake. Firecrackers went off, in my chest and behind my eyelids.

Hot, embarrassing tears pricked my eyes. What are you doing? I admonished myself. You are a superhero.

I wasn’t, though. I wasn’t a hero. I was just a seventeen-year-old girl from the Rubigo District, trying to get ahead. Justice, truth, and valor? Maybe Moxie stood for those things, but Maisie didn’t. Maisie just wanted to survive.

I tried to get to my feet, but the pain knocked me over like a tidal wave. I opened my eyes and saw the man who threw me aiming a kick at my stomach. That was the breaking point.

My ears popped as the smell of ozone burned my nostrils. My hair stood on end, and instinct took over.

I reached out for the power I knew was there. It responded, warm and eager to do my bidding. Fire flooded my veins and the dark night suddenly seemed bright as day. Everything seemed like it was in slow motion. I saw the thief’s steel-tipped boot swinging toward me like a wrecking ball. It all seemed like an easy problem to solve, suddenly.

I flung out one violet-gloved hand, and I heard a voice that didn’t sound like me scream.

“Enough!”

Electricity crackled. Sparks flew. The thief who had been about to kick me flew across the truck. The thieves I’d already taken out jerked as the electricity passed through the metal body of the truck.

I got to my feet. The pain was still there, but it was trivial now. I felt invincible. Sparks crackled through my mane of curly hair. I could feel my heartbeat in every cell.

The driver was slumped over the wheel; steam was rising from the dashboard. I looked at my fallen foes.

“There’s a reason I was hired for this job, you know,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

The driverless car was starting to swerve off the road. Everything was still in slow motion. I stood for a split second, at the edge of the truck. I saw the faces of bystanders gaping at me as I tore past. I saw red and blue lights in hot pursuit. I saw the stars, usually obscured by the smog, revealed by my enhanced vision. I imagined they were looking back at me from far away. And then I jumped.

For the second time that night, I tucked in my arms and legs and landed in a somersault. I popped back to my feet, checking to make sure my mask was still in place.

The adrenaline from using my powers was starting to wear off, and my ribs hurt. A lot.

Behind me, the armored car crashed into a wall with a jarring crash of screeching metal. In their heightened state, my senses were overwhelmed. I doubled over, clapping my hands over my ears. My head hurt. I clenched my eyes shut, feeling them start to water again.

When the cacophony died down, I straightened up to find a crowd of onlookers, and news crews setting up their cameras. Outside the circle of faces, police cars pulled up. It was show time.

I straightened my spine. Time to see if the mayor’s speechwriter is any good.

“As you can clearly see, a group of nefarious thugs have committed an attack on the well-being of this fair city.”

My voice sounded weak. My ribs were really starting to hurt. Stronger, I thought, got to put on a show.

“While law abiding people perform honest work to make their money, these villains pursued a career of crime and greed”

That’s better. I raised my voice to be heard of the muttering crowd.

“Once, Superheroes protected all good people from the forces of evil. But over time, people grew complacent. They rejected the protection of their champions. They chose to be weak.”

The crowd was no longer muttering. They were listening.

“Since then, humanity has been increasingly plagued by crime, terrorism, and violence. We have come to see senseless death as a part of life. We have been desensitized.”

I took a deep breath and continued.

“But no more. Today, a new hero rises from the dust. A new age of safety and prosperity begins. As my first act of heroism, I have vanquished these foes of peace and hope and delivered them into the hands of justice. I am the protector of Novus City, and of all who lead honest and good lives. I fight for justice, truth, and valor, for the protection of the good and upstanding people of this city. My name is Moxie. And if you need me, I’ll be there.”

With my speech finished, I wasn’t sure what to do. I stood there, my chest heaving, staring at the crowd staring back at me. My earpiece crackled to life, saving me from the awkwardness.

“Good work Moxie. You’re clear to return to base,” Bates said, his tone unreadable.

Trying not to let my screaming ribs slow my movements, I pulled a small compact harpoon gun from my belt. It was military grade, bought on the black market and painted purple by one of the mayor’s countless task rabbits.

I aimed at the top of a nearby building and fired. After giving the carbon fiber line a good tug to make sure it was secure, I saluted the crowd and escaped into the night.

As the crowd of upturned faces grew smaller and smaller below me, I looked up at the stars, which were rapidly growing fainter as my vision returned to normal. It was over. I could only hope I had put on enough of a show to impress my employer.

My mother’s life depended on it.