AN: Big chapter. Early update. Don't forget those powerstones.
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John, Harley, and Maureen were suited up. Nothing flashy, just practical. Tactical black pants and jackets, plus masks. They looked ready to kick someone's ass.
Harley's mask was the standout, though. A scream mask, its white face twisted into an expression of eternal terror. It was simple, sure, but effective. It wasn't some piece of high-tech, stealthy espionage gear. No, it looked like something out of a low-budget horror flick. But that was Harley's style: a touch of flair, with a dash of "what the hell" thrown in.
Some might ask... Where did they get those tactical suits and masks?
Funny story.
Apparently, Harley had "liberated" it from a drug cartel. How? Well, first she had tossed a bunch of stink grenades into their base—no, not the cheap kind from a novelty shop, the serious, hardcore ones she bought when they first rolled into Dakota City. Then she had, quite literally, blasted their heads off with her signature baseball bat. She didn't kill them, just hit them hard enough to give them a concussion. She then stole their money, clothes, shoes, even sunglasses... In short, everything that was of value inside that base, including the coffee machine.
Oh, and the bikes. Yeah, she stole three of them. Super bikes. The kind that looked like they could outrun an entire police squad, if needed. Of course, she didn't ask for permission. She just saw them and thought, "Mine now. No... Our now."
There was a big truck in the warehouse where she found those bikes and loaded it up with all the stolen items and bikes, then drove off.
"Don't ask how I got the stink grenades," Harley had said earlier while tossing a bundle of them into her backpack. "When you roll into Dakota City, you gotta be prepared for everything. Including weirdos who might be armed with hot sauce and are definitely not playing by the rules."
John raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. It was Harley, after all.
"How did you even—" Maureen began, glancing at the new bikes, "Where did you find those?" She can't ride. So, she rode with Harley. Harley promised to teach her how to ride like a pro.
"Well, when you're a woman of many talents," Harley said with a mischievous grin, "you can get anything from stink bombs to rocket launchers."
Maureen could've sworn she saw a glimmer of mischief in John's eyes too, but she couldn't quite figure out if it was a joke or a warning.
In any case, the three were suited up and ready.
[Present time]
Harley had hacked into the local police radio earlier in the day, and now, under the cover of night, they were camped out in a narrow alley near the Eastern Mall. According to the news reports, Hotstreak had a habit of selecting locations with a history of high sales or new stock arrivals. The Eastern Mall was prime real estate for arson. The chances of Hotstreak stealing and burning down that mall were sitting at a solid 90 percent.
"So, who's excited?" Harley asked, bouncing on her heels and swinging her baseball bat in the air. The flickering streetlight above them made her look like she was constantly about to explode into some ridiculous action sequence. And maybe she was.
Maureen couldn't help but tug on the edges of her jacket, adjusting it nervously.
"I think I'm more nervous than excited," she admitted, looking at the Mall. "But I'm ready."
Suddenly, a streak of fire shot across the night sky before it slammed into the pavement with a loud crash. Hotstreak had arrived, and he wasted no time making an entrance.
"Here we go," John muttered, already moving.
Harley, never one to waste an opportunity, was the first to spring into action. With a wild grin on her face, she grabbed the glitter grenade from her backpack and threw it. The grenade hit the pavement in front of Hotstreak, exploding in a burst of sparkling glitter that sparkled like fireworks and filled the air with blinding light.
For a split second, Hotstreak was disoriented, his eyes squinting in surprise as the glitter rained down on him. "What the fuck is this shit? Arrkkk! It's everywhere!" He stumbled back, growling, trying to blink the bright lights out of his vision. But it didn't last long.
Harley didn't waste any time. She swooped low and slammed the bat's handle on his toes, multiple times.
"Arggg! My fucking toes!" Hotstreak let out a shriek of pain, hopping back on one foot. He might've been fire-wielding chaos incarnate, but even he wasn't immune to a good toe smash.
"Ha!" Harley laughed, striking another blow to his foot before landing a brutal punch square in his groin. "Special move: Nut cracker! Hiyaaa..."
"OOOH!" Hotstreak howled, doubled over in pain. He was so distracted that he didn't even realize Maureen and John had entered the fray until it was too late.
Both of them looked at the situation and weren't sure of who to help. John's left eye twitched under his mask as he watched Harley kicking Hotstreak as he rolled on the ground, grabbing his crotch.
"So, this wasn't the plan..." Maureen mumbled.
"Nope," John agreed. "But you'd better get ready. That won't keep that brat down for much longer. The angrier he gets, the unstable his power becomes."
Hotstreak roared as he somewhat recovered from the assault on his toes, though his groin was still throbbing... And in a flash, he twisted his body, releasing an explosive blast of fire in all directions. The air around him shimmered with intense heat, warping the world into a mirage.
"Oopsy daisy!" Harley, already well-practiced in the art of dodging insanity, backflipped twice, her scream mask flying in the air like some nightmarish flag. She landed effortlessly on her feet, immediately doing a dramatic spin on her toes like she was on a Broadway stage before rushing toward John and Maureen.
"He's all yours, Bluebell!" Harley shouted, her voice dripping with excitement. "Go show this fire-spitter what real heat looks like! Wait! No, not heat. Ice."
John, ever the realist, patted Maureen's back. "Don't hold back," he said, his tone serious but encouraging. "You've got this."
Maureen glanced at the firestorm Hotstreak had just unleashed, feeling her heart rate skyrocket. She clenched her fists, the energy inside her swelling. The temperature around the place lowered rapidly. She had to push her nerves aside, focus on her power, and make sure she didn't let it slip out of control. This was her moment.
"Well, look at this, we got a damn smurf in the fight!" Hotstreak sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. He noticed her exposed blue hands. "What, you think you're gonna stop me with that little ice power of yours? Cute. Real cute."
Maureen's eyes narrowed. There was no way she was going to let that slide. She clenched her fists, the frost building on her palms. Her skin tingled with the rising cold. "No one is allowed to call me names," she muttered under her breath, the ice forming in her hands. "But Harley."
Before Hotstreak could react, she shot a bolt of ice at him, the blast traveling like a jagged arrow. He barely had time to react before the stream of freezing power collided with his chest.
"Whoa, what the hell!" Hotstreak howled as the ice cracked along his body, the shock of cold making him stumble back. But he quickly recovered, flame bursting from his hands as he let out a snarl. "Oh, you're asking for it now, Smurfette!"
"I think she just told you where to shove that attitude, Hothead!" Harley piped up, her voice ringing out like she was calling the shots in a wrestling match. She had taken up her usual post on the side, twirling her baseball bat like she was ready for a grand finale. "And trust me, that ice blast? Only the beginning! Wait for the real snowstorm!"
Hotstreak spat, his fire flaring higher. "You think I'm scared of a little frostbite? I'm fire incarnate, you overgrown snow cone!"
Maureen didn't hesitate. With a roar, she thrust her hands forward and released another blast of ice so intense it hissed as it met the air. A sheet of frost shot forward, aiming straight for Hotstreak's feet.
"Not today, punk!" Hotstreak growled, trying to leap out of the way, but the ice tracked him, freezing his legs to the ground. His fiery aura intensified in a desperate bid to melt the ice, but it was too late. Maureen didn't give him a second to breathe.
"You might wanna start cooling off," she shot back, her voice cool as a winter morning.
With a speed that surprised even herself, Maureen slid to the side, launching an icy whip from her hand. It cracked through the air like a chain of frost and caught Hotstreak by the neck, yanking him to the ground. He crashed with a painful thud, flames sputtering in all directions as he struggled to get up.
"Hotsteak, you better pay attention," Harley sang from the sidelines, tossing her bat into the air and catching it like a circus performer. "You're getting out-iced here. And if you don't stop that, it might be the last time you ever roast anyone with your little tantrums."
Hotstreak growled, his body buckling under the pressure of the freezing chain that held him down. His fiery form flickered, but he had enough firepower to ignite himself once again, burning the ice off his legs. "You really think you've got me, Ice Princess?" he sneered, his hands seething with fire as he stood up, flames crackling from his body like a furnace.
Maureen wasn't about to give him an opening. As his flames flared up, she slammed her hands together and summoned an explosion of ice spikes that shot up from the ground like jagged mountains. Hotstreak barely had time to dodge, but a few of the icy projectiles scraped across his arms, leaving frostbite-like burns where they touched.
"Ouch!" he hissed, stepping back quickly. "Okay, that's it. You really want to play hardball?"
"I'm not playing," Maureen shot back. She raised both hands to the sky, summoning a blizzard, swirling around them like a miniature snowstorm. Ice and snow whirled like a cyclone, obscuring Hotstreak's vision.
"Holy shit!" Hotstreak screamed, flailing around in the storm of frost. "What kind of circus is this?"
"Just the good kind," Harley cheered. "She's got him in a frosty situation now, folks! Who's ready for the next round of this? Cause I'm thinking—Maureen's about to turn this heatwave into a chill fest!"
Hotstreak staggered through the storm, his fire flickering erratically as the ice made it harder for him to keep his flame stable. He let out a frustrated scream. "That's it. No more games!" He thrust his hands forward, releasing an explosion of heat that sent a wave of fire toward her.
But Maureen had no intention of giving him the chance. As the fire raced toward her, she froze the moisture in the air, extinguishing the fire in midair. But Hotstreak wasn't done. He sent out multiple blasts of flames through the blizzard, but it was all useless as Maureen extinguished them with ease.
And then, as Hotstreak's fiery blasts began to sputter and grow weaker. The cold has seeped into his body, interfering with his power. He tried to summon more flames, but couldn't feel anything but cold. His eyes were burning from excessive cold, and his mouth was parched. He even got a couple of frostbites.
"Fuck it!" He could barely speak.
Maureen saw her opening.
She slammed her palms down hard on the pavement, and the ice responded. It surged outward from her touch, covering the ground beneath her, reaching up to encase Hotstreak in a freezing tomb. In the blink of an eye, the once-invincible firestarter found himself trapped, his arms and legs frozen stiff in jagged sheets of ice.
"Well," Harley drawled from the sidelines, twirling her bat like she was in the middle of a dance routine, "I think we found Hotstreak's weakness. Frostbite."
Hotstreak struggled against the ice, but it was useless.
"This... this is bullshit!" Hotstreak howled, his flames flickering like a dying ember. "You can't just trap me in here like some... some popsicle!"
Maureen stood tall, her breath visible in the frigid air. "Yeah, well, I can't let you destroy my new home."
"Okay," Harley said, taking a few steps closer, her grin wide as ever, "we've got ourselves a frozen fire hazard. Now... Huh?!" She narrowed her eyes.
Out of nowhere, a pitch black shadow appeared before Hotstreak. An eerie voice came from it. "Looks like you could use a hand." Then it wrapped around Hotstreak's ice cage like shadow whips and then pulled him into the ground.
The trio rushed, and there was nothing...
"Teleportation," John mumbled. "Another Bang Baby, huh?" He tried to remember his old memories from the Static Shock series, but most of it was hazy. Like he was a kid when he saw the animated series. But he remembers this annoying shadowy freak of nature... Ebon.
"Argggg! Darn you!" Harley yelled, slamming her bat on the ground. "Now, how the hell am I going to get my reward and free parking tickets? GIVE ME BACK MY HOTSTEAK!"
John patted Maureen's back and said, "You did great. He won't be annoying anyone for a long time."
"Let's get out of here before the cops arrive and misunderstand this situation," John said as he grabbed Harley and put her up on his shoulder. He knew that she was going to yell and curse on that spot and might even dig a hole just to check if there was an underground bunker there. So, the sensible thing to do at that moment was to carry her, like a sack of potatoes, instead of calming her down.
Harley kicked her legs back and forth, her voice rising in frustration. "Seriously?! Who the hell invited Mr. Shadowy McTeleportation over here?" she grumbled, smacking John's back with her free hand. "I was this close to getting my parking tickets and maybe even some sweet, sweet pizza after this. And now, poof! Gone! All because of some freak in a cloak!"
"Calm down, we'll get him someday," John said.
"It's alright, we'll get him next time," Maureen said, clenching her fist.
"Haaa..." Harley let out a long sigh. "My broken dreams..." She made a mental note to smash that shadowy creature's nuts with a barbed-wire zombie killer baseball bat. "One day..."
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---[Don't forget those powerstones]---
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[Read 15 advance chapters]
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Note: I'll take 2 days off. Gotta stock up a bit. See you all on Friday.