Fiction Contest Story: I Think He's French

Thank you HondaJohn for entering the contest. He is his story...

I don't think of myself as a guardian of alleyways and parking lots, but, tonight isn't about ego. When I'm training new recruits, there's just no place like the city.

These occasionally quiet streets, where the lights that work, are too far apart, and the darkness just seems to be winning. The sad pools of light you have, while welcoming, would only leave you feeling like a lightning rod, waiting for the strike.

There is a young hero shadowing me, calling himself unfortunately, The Wicked Pitch. Nice kid, terrible taste in Heroic monikers. Fairly standard rookie, red skin, fondness for purple rubber, sound based powers, absorption, manipulation, and limited discharge. There were some odd side effects. He was a mobile communications array, and, he could hear... everything. It was extraordinary, and well suited for a job at the Precinct.

Not the most exciting of evenings. We hadn't broken a sweat, but we did break up a few street racers, and sent some teenagers running home, when Pitch mimicked sirens.

"Do you think we should call it a night?" I ask to the air.

There's a sound like a walkie talkie squelch. It's the Pitch's idea of courtesy before his voice projects clearly out of thin air. "Chief!" obviously distressed "There's something coming!"

It isn't long before even I can hear it, getting louder, it's fast, and coming from the sky!

A flash of light, and a deafening rumble. it probably would have been a lot more uncomfortable, but Pitch is exerting his influence. He somehow manages to project his voice through the roar "Wormhole!"

My vision clears, and I see them, 2 beings above us. Neither seems surprised to see me, I don't like that at all.

One of them is winged, doing little loops in the air, and laughing.

The other one... piranha faced, doesn't seem to be gifted with flight, falling with increasing speed towards the ground. Armored and imposing, he's all bulky plates, and red spikes, like you couldn't touch him without feeling pain. Impact with the ground certainly doesn't phase him any. He exhales what might be language, if it's a word, it sounds like... "Ley-jean."

The bird man dives, and the toothy guy charges!

I think to look for Pitch, but a nervous jerk of my head, reveals that he's right beside me. I try to suggest he take cover, but he's smiling, and Humming? In between hums, he speaks, with the force of a megaphone "Too loud boys, much much too loud!"

He glances at me, and I'm concerned. No rookie should look this confident, he thinks he's invincible. "I got Lonesome Dove!" He says "You take the French guy!"

The fact that he isn't as surprised as me, when he starts throwing solid sound waves into the air, gives me some comfort. Too loud. Obviously. There noisy appearance had super charged him!

He proves very quickly that he's capable of holding his own against the flying man, for now at least, so I get to work on smiley.

I duck under the swing of a wicked looking battleaxe, and kick some spikes off of his arms. I figure I need to get in close. Those spikes are great for offence, but I have a hunch they are mostly to keep people away. That, and the bulky armor, suggests that this fellow probably isn't as confident as he seems.

Luckily the fight doesn't last long, but it's brutal. When it isn't muscle against metal, it's armor against armor. I'm not unscathed either. Every part of me is bruised, and I have a nasty cut from a razor sharp helmet fin, but I guess I made an impression. Another flash of light, an electric boom, and my opponent vanishes.

Again he creates enough noise to power up Pitch for an impressive display. Sound and color come alive! A ball of chaos engulfs the winged man and throws him across the city.

I assume we'll have to follow... But Pitch says, "He's been spotted, and I'm alerting our other units. Someone else can handle him, let's get you back to the Precinct."

It's not the first time a fellow officer showed me up, nor the first time one had to help me walk home. I just hope I get to return the favor.

Not wanting to pass up an opportunity, he asks, "Do you think they were part of the french foreign legion?"

"Ugh" I audibly groan. "Please, make you're voice go somewhere else."