through him but only managed to scratch his finish. Fuck. Then it was up to us three, moving as one, the constant drills paying off. Ultimate went for his head; Hyperia delivered a hypervelocity kick to his gonads. I grabbed one of his arms, shrugging off surface temperatures in the hundreds of degrees, and tried to tear it off as I landed a kick to his ribs.
He felt the multiple blows. We made him roar in pain, and I felt his shoulder break. But he didn’t die. Any of us would have at least been disabled if not killed outright by that triple play. He wasn’t.
His counterattacks were clumsy, untrained; he was moving very fast but swinging wildly, and that’s why we didn’t lose anybody during that close-quarters exchange. If he’d known what he was doing, he’d have put at least one of us in the ground for good.
I caught a haymaker with my forearms, felt one of them break under the impact, and got thrown against Brass Man’s force field. The world dissolved into a red haze for a moment. I heard more impacts, as loud as cannon fire and far more powerful than any cannon ever built, even the big suckers some countries used to shoot satellites into orbit.
When I could see out of my notional eyes again, Hyperia was down, blood spurting out of her ears and nose. Ultimate was still trading punches with the asshole, each blow making the ground shake and the rubble bounce.
I joined in the fun.
Christine Dark
New York City, New York, July 4, 2014
In comic books, battle noises are described by simple onomatopoeia, your basic BANG! POW! KA-BOOM!
It’s very different when it’s happening for real.
It’s more like a constant rolling rumble of thunder interspaced with sudden explosive outbursts, mixed with the sound of your own heartbeat drumming through you. Fire and smoke everywhere as you run or fly through sheer chaos, trying to find you target before your target finds you. Knowing that at any second you may get hit, and knowing from hard-earned experience just how much it’s going to hurt.
POW!
Christine didn’t duck fast enough, and the dull roar and billowing clouds coming from the burning buildings below her were replaced by a blinding flash of light and a sharp crack that was more of a feeling than a sound. The world became a kaleidoscope of motion and pain until she was able to regain control and found herself a mile or three up in the air.
That effing hurt .
Well, she’d wanted to see fireworks this Fourth of July, and there they were. The energy bolt that had sent her up, up and away had turned her into a firework. Her force field was glowing in many colors as it shed some of the energy it had absorbed. The display gave any New Yorker looking up into the sky something pretty to watch. Of course, sensible New Yorkers were staying indoors, well away from any windows, because watching Neos fighting was not good for your health.
Christine looked down and saw a puff of smoke and dust below, looking tiny in the distance and contained by Uncle Adam’s area force field, the same force field she’d crashed through on her way up. A few moments later she heard a thunderous sound. That was probably either Ali, John or Mark, letting the bad guy have it. She’d better rejoin the fray.
Flying down took her a fraction of a second, but by the time she got there, the Brooklyn neighborhood where the fight had started had been thoroughly devastated. Despite the containing force field, the shockwaves generated by the fight had hit the surrounding area like a massive earthquake: buildings had collapsed, the streets and sidewalks had cracks big enough to swallow cars whole, and several minor fires and floods had broken out when gas and water pipes were ruptured. Legion SOP was to move fights away from populated areas, but the perp they were fighting was very hard to move. The less powerful members of Freedom Squad One had been busy evacuating the neighborhood. Christine could only hope all innocent bystanders had
He felt the multiple blows. We made him roar in pain, and I felt his shoulder break. But he didn’t die. Any of us would have at least been disabled if not killed outright by that triple play. He wasn’t.
His counterattacks were clumsy, untrained; he was moving very fast but swinging wildly, and that’s why we didn’t lose anybody during that close-quarters exchange. If he’d known what he was doing, he’d have put at least one of us in the ground for good.
I caught a haymaker with my forearms, felt one of them break under the impact, and got thrown against Brass Man’s force field. The world dissolved into a red haze for a moment. I heard more impacts, as loud as cannon fire and far more powerful than any cannon ever built, even the big suckers some countries used to shoot satellites into orbit.
When I could see out of my notional eyes again, Hyperia was down, blood spurting out of her ears and nose. Ultimate was still trading punches with the asshole, each blow making the ground shake and the rubble bounce.
I joined in the fun.
Christine Dark
New York City, New York, July 4, 2014
In comic books, battle noises are described by simple onomatopoeia, your basic BANG! POW! KA-BOOM!
It’s very different when it’s happening for real.
It’s more like a constant rolling rumble of thunder interspaced with sudden explosive outbursts, mixed with the sound of your own heartbeat drumming through you. Fire and smoke everywhere as you run or fly through sheer chaos, trying to find you target before your target finds you. Knowing that at any second you may get hit, and knowing from hard-earned experience just how much it’s going to hurt.
POW!
Christine didn’t duck fast enough, and the dull roar and billowing clouds coming from the burning buildings below her were replaced by a blinding flash of light and a sharp crack that was more of a feeling than a sound. The world became a kaleidoscope of motion and pain until she was able to regain control and found herself a mile or three up in the air.
That effing hurt .
Well, she’d wanted to see fireworks this Fourth of July, and there they were. The energy bolt that had sent her up, up and away had turned her into a firework. Her force field was glowing in many colors as it shed some of the energy it had absorbed. The display gave any New Yorker looking up into the sky something pretty to watch. Of course, sensible New Yorkers were staying indoors, well away from any windows, because watching Neos fighting was not good for your health.
Christine looked down and saw a puff of smoke and dust below, looking tiny in the distance and contained by Uncle Adam’s area force field, the same force field she’d crashed through on her way up. A few moments later she heard a thunderous sound. That was probably either Ali, John or Mark, letting the bad guy have it. She’d better rejoin the fray.
Flying down took her a fraction of a second, but by the time she got there, the Brooklyn neighborhood where the fight had started had been thoroughly devastated. Despite the containing force field, the shockwaves generated by the fight had hit the surrounding area like a massive earthquake: buildings had collapsed, the streets and sidewalks had cracks big enough to swallow cars whole, and several minor fires and floods had broken out when gas and water pipes were ruptured. Legion SOP was to move fights away from populated areas, but the perp they were fighting was very hard to move. The less powerful members of Freedom Squad One had been busy evacuating the neighborhood. Christine could only hope all innocent bystanders had
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