The tequila burn felt good as it slid down his throat. Scott gave a growl in the direction of the woman that bought the last round for the hero of Crawfordsville. She was gorgeous, her brunette hair curled at her shoulders and tinted with red highlights. She was stacked too, her breasts nearly overflowing out of the tight dress and her perfect round ass had grinded against him several times during the evening.
He knew he was drunk after several dozen shots but he had earned it. He was a hero after all, at least, according to the JTF. He got away with his little indiscretion in the field perfectly. By the time anyone found that Speedster, he would be coyote shit. He wished it was Larson instead.
The trip to the museums were a boring waste of time, but Larson was not there, so that was a plus. Scott had many people run up and shake his hand or ask for a picture while they toured downtown. This was his first step in becoming America’s next great protector. He could get used to it.
He looked around trying to sneak out with the brunette and blond after they said their apartment was nearby and much more private. They were big fans and wanted to show their appreciation personally. He did not want Alaina to see him leave with them or the bitching would be non-stop tomorrow. He would also need to slip out before any of the others spotted him and ratted him out. The girls left first through the front door to wait for him outside as Scott followed a few seconds behind. As he glanced around the room, he noticed Net smiling as the lights, lasers, and fog effects moved to the perfect beat of his head nods. The little bastard took control of the DJ’s equipment. Why?
As he panned across the room, he noticed the dweeb near the pool room having a seizure. Was he under mental attack? Jury would put criminals in a similar state when she overloaded their minds with her power. Scott remembered the experience quite vividly and shuddered.
As he walked back towards the dance floor, Scott realized what Net was doing. He was spotlighting Michael…dancing with Alaina. Michael suddenly grabbed his head and leaned over as Alaina screamed for Trauma. As she leaned over and disappeared behind the horde of people dancing, the rage filled him.
That little speck of shit thought Alaina would dump him. He had purposefully taken Alaina on the dance floor to embarrass him in front of his team and his fans. Scott knew he could not let this go without serious repercussions.
Suddenly, Alaina was airborne as Michael swung wildly. She had rejected him and the fucker just hit her. It would be the last thing he ever did. Alaina landed on several mundane dancers, knocking them all on the ground in a mass collapse. As the first screams filled the club, the crowd panicked and scattered. Scott saw his opening to Michael, who like a big baby, was still holding his head, crying over the rejection. Scott was going to give him a lot more to cry about in a second.
He charged as hard as he could. It was a short distance but more than enough to end this annoying Category 1. In an instance, Scott had reached his target and followed his fist hitting Michael squarely in the chest. He felt triumphant as Michael flew backward and crashed through the outside wall, the dust obscuring the point of impact.
Hitting Larson was like hitting Judge, only worse. Scott’s hand broke immediately and a powerful shock wave rumbled through the entire building, lights and sound equipment falling down on the club patrons. The blast launched Justice backwards, slamming him hard in a cinder block wall. Broken concrete pieces rained down on him and the floor. The rebar jutted out of the wall like broken bones.
Alaina looked up to see Michael still holding his head in excruciating pain as she felt the pain in her shoulder. She could move it but it never hurt like this since her Reveal. How was it possible? Michael was not a Tank and did not hit her with Enhanced power behind it.
As she finished her thought, she saw a blur rush by.
“Scott, no!” Alaina screamed as Michael was obliterated by Scott’s powerful punch. Scott had used his full strength on Michael. There was no way any of the recruits would survive a punch like that. The impact was deafening as the building rocked and buckled. The mundanes still standing nearby were vaulted off their feet and tossed across the room.
Even as her shoulder continued to burn, Alaina stood up slowly to avoid further injuring the mundanes underneath her. Her eyes never left Scott as he pulled himself out of the wall.
“Well, that was a bit messy, but needed to be done,” Scott laughed, his eyes bloodshot and speech slurred.
Alaina focused as he walked to ground zero. Scott grimaced in pain and cupped his hand gingerly for some reason but she was beyond reason. She did not care that the mundanes around her were pulling out their smart phones and recording.
Net noticed and immediately turned off every device in the building, mobile and hard-wired, and erased them. He wanted Lady Justice to get revenge for Michael before the police showed up. She would go to jail for life if there was any evidence. He nodded to a recovering Cortex as he mentally relaxed everyone on the dance floor to keep them from running off. The people who had already left the building would not have seen what happened.
Trauma knelt over the most severely injured she could find while Solid Copy shifted into her form. Scimitar shifted his arms to forklift blades to lift the rubble off the victims trapped under the lighting and sound equipment.
“He was out of control!” Scott yelled at Alaina.
“I don’t care, Scott. Not anymore.” Alaina hissed, desperately holding back the emotions. Bright blue light surrounded her.
For the first time since her Reveal, Alaina did not hold back.