The last of Zundergrub’s guards, a guy so big he dwarfed me, was unaffected by the crystal hail. He grabbed me from behind and threw me. I flew through the air, slamming into the leg of one of the fallen mecha, spinning twice in the air and crashing against an overturned vehicle.
The goon jumped the distance, landing next to me and helping me up, rearing back for a bone-crunching haymaker. I tried to dodge, but the shot caught me in the right shoulder, slamming me back into the crumpled car. I swung out, using the momentum that pushed me forward after the impact to strengthen my blow, but the big guy was a good fighter. He slipped left of my right cross and punched me in the temple so hard I almost faded out. In that moment’s confusion, he picked me up, much like I had Zundergrub a moment before, and threw me into the wreckage of the two mecha. I slammed into the heavy armor, leaving a deep indentation, but the momentum swung me over the wreckage and back almost to the same spot where I had killed the doctor.
I started to get up, but Silverstone saw me and dropped a jagged hailstorm on me, forcing me to protect my face. The big guy jumped atop the mecha’s midsection and saw his advantage. He swung his arms out, readying another jump that would bring his whole weight down on me.
Then I noticed a silver thread trailing from the back of his head. He was one of Coach’s puppets.
“Wait!” I said, but the goon jumped anyway. I rolled away, barely missing the stomp, and came to my feet.
“Coach, it’s me....” I said, trailing off, not knowing how to identify myself. To tell her I was Blackjack would earn me no favors.
The goon moved forward, ripping off the remnants of his shirt and jacket and clenching his fists tight, walking through Silverstone’s hailstorm without a care.
“I’m the guy that was helping FTL!” I said, backpedaling away, but I ran into something, and before I could turn around, I realized I was in a full nelson lock.
It was the Indian villain, and he was strong enough to hold me. Nothing I could do would ever break his hold on me.
“Kill him,” my captor told the goon. The Indian was fighting my efforts to get free and holding me up at the same time to give the goon a sweet target to get a good blow in.
The goon came forward and paused, though his face was utterly expressionless. He looked at me, then the Indian.
“He killed Zundergrub, take his fucking head off,” the Indian said.
The big guy reared back, putting everything into the blow. I couldn’t get out of the lock despite my massive strength, nor could I twist in any way to avert the incoming shot. I just closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, and hoped I’d get a chance to return the favor.
The blow landed, knocking me and the Indian back a dozen feet. Our bodies were like rag dolls, flopping about before crumpling to the ground. I stood, expecting to feel the stinging pain of the punch, but instead I looked over and saw the Indian’s face caved in.
The goon was still devoid of expression, but as I came to my feet, I saw a few heroes closing in, landing around me, forming a circle.
Nitronic was there, as were Silverstone and Doppler, and soon most of the remaining heroes approached me. I saw Coach standing behind FTL, her silver threads trailing off in every direction, including the goon that had dropped the Indian and a few other villains ringing her like Zundergrub’s guardian posse. She was a tall, thin woman, maybe in her mid-fifties, with short blonde hair ringing a severe face. Her blue eyes regarded me as one would a trapped pest.
“You should have run,” she said.
I laughed. “If that’s what passes for ‘thanks’ these days, well ... then you’re welcome.”
“Careful, he’s dangerous,” said Nitronic, and I didn’t know whether to be humbled or ashamed. They circled around me, adding to Coach’s mind control army to give me no chance at escape.
Chaos raged around us as heroes exacted revenge on their captors. Some, like a flamer called Pyromancer, scorched his enemies to a crisp, spreading his burning flames without care for friend or foe. In his defense, he had been one of the poor souls enduring torture when I had made my move.