Young Writers Society

AN: A little gruesome in the beginning here. I tried to get it somewhat realistic when someone is struck by not just lightning, but ignited by plasma directly. And, you know, language.

---

I felt every injury on my body numbing entirely as lightning flowed through me like water. I was quick about it, and as soon as my lightning turned into a light blue, I cut myself off from the van.

Quinn gave me no relief. He came at me fast, a claw-tipped arm raised high to seperate my head. My power surged within, and I moved just as fast as he did.

I ducked, and the arm went over my face. His body growled, and his torso suddenly twisted, as though he were an action figure, and his arms swiped again.

They didn’t reach me. My body pulsed in return, and a corona of lightning spread like a bubble from my chest. His skinless hands meet superheated air and plasma, and he flinches backwards towards the van.

The van.

He wasn’t about to kill anybody, if I could help it. Before Quinn could get smart, I reached out for one of his hands, and squeezed hard as I pulsed. His body went rigid as lightning tightened his muscles, and with my enhanced strength, I ended up pulling him over my head and into a light pole. The light pole wrapped around him, and I didn’t let up. My hands opened towards him, and lightning bolts surged like bullets.

One. Ten. Thirty strikes. I calmly walked closer as I shot him with no reprieve, and looked him right in the eye as he struggled to control his misshapen body. “You're not going to hurting anyone,” I said, and brought my foot down hard on his shoulder.

Quinn’s multiple mouths screamed, and his body began to shift again. His split head was one again, his arms began to shrink back into something resembling human. He stopped twitching, finally, and his chest began to rise and fall.

Okay. Shoulder dislocated, and he can’t follow through on his own threats against another cape. Don’t think about how his power resembles Dungeon Master’s, don’t think about it, don’t think about it…

I turned around. My lightning was still a light blue, seeing that I didn’t use to do anything other than heal and throw. A look at the van revealed that it was still moving. Was Blizzard stuck? Maybe.

“Hey,” I called out. I hope she can hear me. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to you-” A tendril of flesh and bone wrapped around my neck and arms, cutting me off from my sentence and air. It squeezed, and my vision went dark for a few precious seconds as I left the ground and came face to face with a nastier looking Quinn.

His face still had those pure black eyes, but the mouth was gone entirely, as was the nose and ears. His skin was also different. Earlier it was clean, and white. Now, it was more of an off-color slimy pink. “Hehe… that hurt.” His voice was the same, despite him having no mouth that I could see. It was clear, and-

The tendril around my neck squeezed even tighter, and I conveyed back that I didn’t like that with a full body shock. It immediatly loosened, and Quinn screamed in pain as he jumped away.

I fell to my knees, pulling in precious oxygen as I kept an eye on Quinn’s changed form.

His right arm wasn’t an arm, but a whole mass of different tendrils that seemed to be indiscriminately covered in mouths and teeth. It was also covered in the same slime that Quinn seemed to be secreting.

His legs had also changed. Instead of looking like regular feet, they were skinned, revealing taut musculature that more resembled a gazelle or cheetah. His left arm remained unchanged, likely because I had stomped on it.

He can’t transform when he’s injured? Or was it because he couldn’t feel it?

Either way, he just inadvertently told me how to take him down.

Make him hurt. Luckily, lighting has a special way of igniting those nerves.

My fists became electrified, and his split arm came at me. I wasted no time in batting it away, and instead let my cage of lightning spring out as I punched forward with all my might. The tendrils surged away from the lightning, and a single massive thunderstrike flew like a rocket towards Quinn’s face. I could see his eyes widen before it made contact, and I was glad for the filters in my mask as his chest and face immediately carbonized. I fought long enough in the Games to recognize what burnt flesh smell like, and how long and hard a man could scream under such ridiculous amounts of power.

Monster Quinn was no different. Absolute agony filled the air through his lungs as his tendril arm lost tendrils. The strange slime evaporated, and I could see his black eyes melt in his sockets. Flesh danced and curled around his melted face and chest, and it did nothing but seemingly make him tremble in more pain as he finally fell forward.

My hands trembled. My lungs burned. When the smoke rose, I finally turned away from the caricature of a person and towards the van, whose driver's door was open.

Finally.

I began to walk forward, and as I stepped over the rubble the hole made, I caught Blizzard’s eyes, wide in fright and something resembling awe.

“Holy shit…” She whispered. She was dressed like I would expect a cold-themed tinker-gearhead would; a small parka, with the sleeves cut off, that was covered in devices I assume is related to her gear. It was coupled with some snow pants and boots. I hoped it was air-conditioned in that van. Shepard City sat next to an ocean, and there was almost never a good winter season here.

Her face was covered only by her parka’s hood and a face mask. She wore nothing to cover the eyes, which were colored similarly as her sister’s. She was also holding a complicated looking gun. It resembles something out of an old-fashioned sci-fi pinup, except with a steel, garage-themed look.

She looked ridiculous. I thought the same when I first met Ammo. When I told Terry as such, he replied, "Well, looking silly is step 3 of being a hero. Step 2 is getting a kick-ass costume." 

She was still looking at me with wide eyes as I inspected her. I don’t know what she thought of me. Was she like her sister, a speechless fan? Did she not care for my exploits?

Did she fear me?

That last thought was immediately expelled when she started talking. “You know, with all that screaming, I would’ve thought you just,” she put away her weapon and made motions with her hands. One was completely flat and lowered, while the other came down as she made zapping noises with her mouth. “Pshh. You know, the big one? From the Games?”

I was somewhat stumped until Tintin helpfully supplied, ‘NATURE’S WRATH?’ I reflexably flinched at the stupid name the bastard Dungeon Master had given me. Blizzard seemed to notice, and apologized. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

I cut her off. “It’s fine. And there were too many people anyway.” Blizzard looked behind me, and saw only the burnt Quinn laying in his own vaporized flesh. “There’s only that monster guy over there.”

“Yeah. Too many.” I reiterated. I kept the steel out of my voice, and walked over to the van to drain it. It was slow this time, and my hands stopped shaking as my power worked to restore my body. It wasn’t the first time I had burnt out my own nerves, but with all that’s happened recently, I didn’t need some upstart murderer running around. I looked towards Blizzard, who was sitting on a piece of rubble, watching over Quinn’s still breathing body with a hand on her gun.

Good. I muted my mask. “Tintin?”

‘PROPER AUTHORITIES HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED.’ I let loose a small smile, but that died out when Tintin asked, ‘ARE YOU ALRIGHT, GWEN?’

“I’m fine, Tintin.”

‘THEN WHY HARM YOURSELF WITH AN OVERCHARGED THUNDERSTRIKE INSTEAD OF SHUTTING DOWN QUINN’S NERVOUS SYSTEM?’

I exhaled harshly through my nose. Why didn’t I do that? “I couldn’t get close,” I stated nonchalantly, hoping that they would drop it.

They didn’t. ‘HE COULDN’T TOUCH YOU WITH YOUR POWER.’

I stayed silent, and shuffled my feet when Tintin asked, ‘IS IT BECAUSE OF HIS POWER?’

I un-muted my mask and turned to Blizzard. She noticed the electricity cutting off and stood up. “What’s up?”

“What’s your beef with Technomon? Why did she feel the need to unmask you?” I went straight for the point, and Tintin’s words came on screen for a moment. ‘WE’RE TALKING ABOUT THIS LATER.’

Sure. Later.

Blizzard, or perhaps, Jacklyn, seemed to tense up. I wished, for a moment, that I didn’t have goggles so she could see my glare instead of feel it. Instead, I crossed my arms and very much made my feelings clear. She was suddenly very interested in her feet, and mumbles under her breath, “Mask… insulted…”

“Speak. Up.” I accentuated. Jacklyn did. “I found out who she was first. I then proceeded to steal some stuff from her own hideout.”

I… I could feel my brow twitch. My hands tightened into fists. “You… found out a supervillain’s identity.”

Jacklyn nodded. “And you stole her belongings.” I continued. She nodded again, very much not looking me in the eye.

I exhaled harshly through my nose, and began to take deep breaths through my mouth as I paced. “Okay. Okay. Fine. Where’s Technomon’s stuff?”

She flinched, and raised her hands as if she were under arrest. “Please, don’t get mad.”

“I don’t get mad,” I stated. “I get serious. Where, Jacklyn Friar?”

If she was surprised I knew her name, she didn’t show it. “I… put it in a school locker with one of her weird portal things.”

Weird portal things? A school locker… Deep breaths weren’t helping. “The same one that Technomon attempted to rob after invading the school?”

“...yes?” She winced as she said it, then perked up. “Wait, the school was attacked?!”

“Off topic.” I deadpanned. It was on topic, Technomon was stealing back her own tech, I was there, Carla and Jess were there, I got shot through the stomach-

My foot rapped up and down in a blur, working off some building stress through some good and old fashioned kinetic energy. Jacklyn seemed to be regretting her choices, and had pulled down her hood to rub her neck. “I mean, the locker is still there, right? I could grab her equipment, assemble some kickass new stuff, and we could go knock down her door!”

Remember, Gwen, I told myself. The school was attacked literally yesterday. I looked Jacklyn, no, Blizzard, right in the eye as I spoke. “One; the locker is dead. It has no power, which means no equipment.” Her face fell at the news, but I kept it up. “Two; Technomon is currently in Boston after evading Aegis, Ammo, and Tinman.” Her head tilted in confusion, and I could feel the question on her lips before she said them.

“Well, why don’t we go to-”

“I’m not finished.” I interrupted. She stopped in her tracks, and I continued. “Three; the Third Boston Games began not twenty-four hours ago. We can’t go to Boston, we can’t get to Technomon, and your little venture into crime against a supervillain has been for nothing.”

Her eyes blinked rapidly. Then she began waving her arms in a completely flabbergasted dance. “What?! Why not!? And why is the locker broken?! I could’ve built something big, something that could break that stupid bubbleshield maybe! You could’ve helped!”

She pushed me. Well, she tried. I didn’t move from my spot, and she backed up slightly at my glare. I spoke softly. “I tried to break the bubble. For three days straight. Three days, hardly two weeks after I had discovered my power. I nearly tore myself apart, molecule. By. Fucking. Molecule.” Her eyes flitted around at my words, and she fell over herself as I stalked closer.

“You want to try and save every super and civilian in Boston? Go right ahead. But don’t come back crying that you failed and got someone killed.” We were both silent. Blizzard looked up at me for a moment before looking away. The air was quiet with the hum of her van and the popping blisters on Quinn’s body. Then sirens began to grow, alongside a curious sound of something whistling through the air.

She arrived before the police and SPD (Superpower Police Division). She didn’t land like a superhero, but rather crashed like one. It didn’t form a crater, despite her having collected more than enough momentum to make one. Dressed up in full leathers like a biker, she didn’t really scream “cape”, but was more someone that was finding their way there. She wore a full biker helmet that was decorated with blue flames. The leathers were the right kind of tight, form-fitting but leaving plenty to the imagination. With full gloves, boots, and a tinted visor, there was no obvious skin exposed.

Of course, she landed near Quinn’s unconscious body. Despite the full body covering, she walked around him carefully and waved at the both of us. “Heya! Police are coming!” She pointed behind herself.

I sighed. Blizzard looked at her, then at me in confusion, and I muted my mask. “Tintin?”

‘ONE OF THE THREE VIGILANTIES. I FIGURED YOU MIGHT’VE WANTED TO MEET THEM QUICKER.’

I was about to ask the SI who the newcomer was when she answered for me. “So, um. Conduit. Nice. I’m Force, it’s nice to meet you!” She held out a hand. As the police and SPD pulled up, I sighed again and shook her hand.