The Power of Ten Book Four: Dynamo

“There’ll be another meeting with the CEO of the place, but I think you sold him,” Mr. Hill grunted, after we rose out of the ground in the back yard of our temporary crib. I’d already Shaped up some stone furniture for him, which he actually found more comfortable than wooden stuff.

He was particularly fond of his Mountain-sized sandbag of pebbles, rocks, and concrete spheres. The material it was made of was like steel wire and the thing weighed literally tons, but it was just a beanbag to him, conformed to his shape, and he’d immediately taken a shine to it.

“I imagine calls from other interested casinos will be coming in after the first couple of games when I shut down the cheaters. We’ll see,” I said, as I carefully helped him out of his suit, cleaned it up, and put it into a case for him. “Remember to go get your shoes and hat tomorrow. When we get your first fee, we’ll get you a rotating wardrobe... or maybe I’ll just change the color of your suit, mmm.” I hung it on a rack off to the side for him.

He sighed, looking at me. “You’re too damn nice to me, girl.”

“And I’m totally aware of it. Check this out.” I pulled out a big brown bottle from my Vest, set it on the stand next to him. It had a standard metal cap, had the four suits on the label, and ‘Dealer’s Finest’ as the vintage.

He picked it up. It was big enough to fit nicely in his oversized hands. “This... looks like a beer.” I said nothing, just lifting an eyebrow at him. He popped the top, and there was that hiss, and even a little foam. He put it up to his nose, and inhaled. “Damn. It even smells like a beer.” He tilted it back and took a swig. “Fuck. That even tastes... like a damn fine beer.” He stared at it for a long moment, before looking up at me. “How long were you working on this?”

“Twenty-three different variations to get it right. The fucking tolerances are like .1%, or it comes out... ugh.” I took out a small bottle and put it next to the big one. “You can drink it, but it tastes like blargh, and it’s the best of the rest.”

Curious, he picked it up, popped the top with his finger, and took a drink. He brought it down, and kept a magnificent straight face. “Damn,” he swore, looking at it. “Blargh is right. I’ve had some rotgut, and this is state of the art horrid swill, girl.”

He downed the rest of it, just to show he could, and dropped the bottle in the trash. “Now this, this is just... I don’t think I have ever had a beer quite this good, although I know there were some out there, before I changed.” He caught my half-smile. “Yeah, I know this isn’t beer. How much?”

“I went through twenty grand to fine-tune the recipe. It’s about two hundred for a bottle. Sun-Energized lead peroxide.” I threw up my hands. “And Water E-zinc, of all things.”

He looked at the big bottle, sized for The Mountain. “I’ll take a whole case of ‘em,” he declared without hesitation.

“We got bills to pay,” I replied.

“Damn right. Now turn on the doom tube and let me enjoy my beer.” I waved at the TV, and the link to his phone came on, carrying over the soccer games from The Coast.

It was the only sport the Tribes and Murica had in common. Baseball, basketball, and Murican football had never caught on in the Tribes as they had here in Murica, although lacross had a following, rugby had somewhat of a following, and the Tribes had some of the best polo teams in the world, especially given the quality of their horses and riders.

Murica being what it was, it basically gaffed most of the world’s choices of sports and focused on their own. The Olympics had never really caught on here after the advent of Powered humans made the achievements of normal unaugmented humans so minor, and, indeed, keeping the Powered of any kind out of athletics was an ongoing struggle. Even someone who only knew Core disciplines could easily outperform any normal human with their ability to perform to briefly impossible standards after unleashing their Focus.

The urge to interfere in professional games that allowed betting on them was another major temptation that had yet to be addressed. Simply affecting someone’s mindset during a game could easily swing a match, let alone telekinetically messing with a ball or puck or something.

Another reason for people to rage, as even athletics wasn’t an easy way out of the poorhouse, unless you were Powered. Getting Core training generally meant leaving Murica, however, which didn’t make the natives of the States very happy. They were urgently looking into scientific alternatives to stuff, and were progressing pretty fast behind a whole lot of industrial espionage and money trying to buy the secrets of others.

All business as normal, and it made the espionage sector a rich source of activity for a lot of folks. Also, there were no end of people seeking to become Powered and get their X-gene energized in one form or another to get out of the poorhouse.

If they couldn’t, they went looking for Weird Science gear, sure enough.

Mr. Hill would go out visiting old associates later. It was time for me to do some venturing out of my own.

Fate had tied me here to do something. I couldn’t believe that it wouldn’t literally make something happen to get things into motion.

If not, well, I was simply extending my Lived-Line and getting myself familiar with someplace I was probably going to spend a fair degree of time in.

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The Mask was different, an almost-black crimson with large eyes covering my own and a voltage triangle on the forehead... although I had a black Statue of Liberty t-shirt on over my tights, and jeans as well. The eyes and inside of the triangle lit up white when my voltage was turned on.

Hey, I had no exhibitionist urge to show off my figure in skin-tights yet. After all, the only thing I required at this point of the game was my Bite bracelets.

Later at night in the bar district was the best time to go looking for muggers desperate for some drug money off drunks. So I headed that way, but didn’t quite make it that way before there was excitement.

It looked like Fate was making a play for me.

It was some kind of armored transport van, and the ambushers actually surged out of hiding on foot while it was at a traffic stop. I was on a passing roof-top when they did so. The lead character in his white hood raised a shiny silver gauntlet, and smacked the armored van with it.

The boom as the van was bounced twenty feet over, nearly crushing a few pedestrians as it rolled, was definitely enough to get my attention. The group of six ambushers swarmed towards the back of the van, which I noticed said Ginseng Traders on the side.

I filed that away and bounced down to the attack, keeping an eye on the guy in the white and noting they were all wearing equal-armed cross symbols on themselves, albeit only the leader had one on his hood.

The Crux! This was a pretty bold move by them, and I wondered what had prodded such an action in Brooklyn.

Didn’t matter, time for me to start something.

The leader punched into the back of the door to break the locks, opening it up for whatever they wanted to retrieve inside. After being violently bounced around, any guards posted inside were going to be useless, so it was up to me.

Well, I was a dynamo, so that wasn’t going to be too hard.

I came down, bounced off the ground on Repulse, and gently hit the guy in the back, smashing him forward into his friends and taking three of them down. The leader spun around in surprise, and I zapped him right in the face, taking him and his kinetic-punching gauntlet down. They were the replacements for Hydra... was that a Satan’s Claw? Strucker's favorite handshaking toy...

If so, I wanted it, bad!

Guns came to hand with great speed, while people belatedly realized there was a fight going on and scattered instead of gawking. Bullets whined, and my other Bite shot as I bounced, making them aim high before one shooter got shot in the face and the other got my foot there, my hand taking his firearm.

I was Not Amused when one of the fallen men swore, pulled out a grenade, and tossed it frantically towards the biggest cluster of people that he could. I just looked at him as everyone scrambled to get away, and lashed out for the thing.

Installing a Compressed cable into the Bites wasn’t that hard, nor was exerting some control over it with minor TK, the cable visually crackling and lashing out to hit the bouncing grenade with unerring aim, and my Attract, conducted along it to the tip along the internal threads, glommed on.

With a snarl I turned and snap-whipped it skywards, turning on the group of men as they scattered in all directions quickly. The detonation over a hundred feet above us didn’t harm anything, although I think it holed a couple of windows and tinkled off the facades of a couple of the multi-story buildings here.

They didn’t scatter quickly enough. I shot the fucker who had tossed the grenade in the leg, and my second cable lashed out to hit the leader who was being dragged away... right in his gauntlet. His two men didn’t stop dragging him, and the gauntlet jerked off his hand as they continued running towards a waiting van nearby that gaped open its door to receive them, squealing into motion as they jumped inside blindly.

One guy was rolling on the ground clutching his leg, another was unconscious after a foot to the head, and the one I’d kicked in the face was stumbling away towards an alley in that direction, while a fourth raced away down the street, doubtless towards another ride waiting there.

I pulled the cables back, powering the Compression effect with my electricity, and snatched up my prize as I did so.

I shot the guy who had tossed the grenade in the chest, and he stopped screaming as the voltage paralyzed him. Ducking my head down, I called into the back of the van, “You guys okay in there?”

There was one guy in basic body armor in the back of the van, groaning. He seemed to be startled and a bit shaken when I called in there, which I noted. Things like these were usually done with inside help, after all. “I-I think I’m okay. Hank, George?”

The two men in front were hanging in their seatbelts, awkward but unharmed, just rather helpless.

“Keep your seatbelts on. I’m going to turn you back over,” I called out, and suited words to deeds as I stuck the gauntlet to the back of my shirt, walked over to the side of the van, and grabbed it more with Attract than with my fingers, which dispersed my grip over a larger area of the vehicle and avoid handprinting the metal any more than the big dent in the side had done. I slowly lifted it up and over, anchoring my feet to the ground as I did so.

A lot of people were watching as I slowly and carefully brought it off its top to its side, and in a controlled roll, turned it completely over and set it back on its wheels, although the massive dent in its side didn’t go away, naturally enough.

The rider in back braced himself as the van rolled, and the riders up front just held on as the van settled itself back on its wheels. I could already hear sirens rolling as it returned to its tires.

“Thanks for the help,” the passenger guard said, something in his voice striking me as peculiar. “You gonna stick around for the cops, or no?”

I regarded him calmly. I had the distinct impression that he didn’t want to stick around, either, but the van wasn’t really in a condition to be driven right now, and the driver was already on the radio to someone to report they’d been hit.

A police escort to their destination would be advisable at this point, but it didn’t look like he wanted such a thing.

“I’ve got two of the attackers here, unconscious and ready for them. You planning on leaving?” I answered.

Traffic was already fucked here. Smart drivers were already turning around to find a different route.

He deflated, looking at me. “Naw, we’re staying right here. What’s your name?” he asked, curious now.

“Dynamo.” I let a flicker of voltage dance between my white Mask-eyes. “I’ll leave them to you, then. Take all the credit you like.” His eyes flickered weirdly as I glided backwards, then burst away, leaving a few trails of lightning as I jumped up three stories, ran up the side of the building there with a few crackles of voltage on my trail, and vanished over the roof.