Switched Ch. 07 - Power Trio

As I wove between cars, I could see the truck behind us, easy to pick out with its one headlight and the sparks coming off the left front wheel. Bryan hung out of the window with his pistol, popping off rounds at it as we went.

Our pursuit was slower, but not by much, thanks to our damage. It would only take one mistake. Hitting a curb, for instance, or getting caught in cross traffic, to stop us. It would take too long to get going again, and in that time, Sawblade would kill us dead.

I goosed it forward between two confused but still aggressive vehicles and swerved, making a wide u-turn to the right before accelerating again. It was harder for our pursuit and we opened the range a bit.

"Look out!" cried Bryan. Something flashed overhead-another line of blades, vertical like a disc plow, and thunked down on the road a few feet ahead of us. There was no avoiding running over them, and now I had four flat tires.

The ride was getting rough. Cars ahead of us were starting to make way, seeing us shedding sparks and driving on our rims in their rearview mirrors.

"Down!" yelled Bryan. I ducked, and the whole world exploded. When I opened my eyes, the top of the car was gone and, embedded in the road in front of us at an angle was the sawblade that had done it, wider than a dinner table. I yanked the wheel and avoided it but for a long scrape down the side of the car, then corrected the oversteer. Driving with four flat tires was a little like driving on mud. Luckily, I'd gone through my muddin' phase just like everybody else I grew up with.

"Find somewhere with cover," he said as he reloaded. "When we stop, I want you to run and not look back."

A thousand emotions welled up in me at once and I snarled, "Fuck that!"

He gave me a fierce grin. Yes, we were in this together, no matter what. He didn't press the issue and demand that he sacrifice himself like some white knight asshole would have. Another point in his favor. Good thing I'd gotten a piece of him before this happened. He was so hot right now.

I pulled the Ruger out of my tool belt and checked the safety. Bryan called "Down!" again and another, less terrifying blade passed over our heads that I just managed to avoid hitting when it embedded itself in the road, at the cost of some of my remaining speed. The engine wasn't running like it had been and the oil light was on-most likely, one of those side blades had slipped through the wheel well and cut an oil line. It'd certainly got a brake line, not that I'd hit the brakes since this all started. I could smell the leaking fluid.

"On the right! The construction, see it?" I barked. "We ditch the car and go in there." There was a satisfyingly large number of thick concrete walls already up.

I cut the corner of a side street and corrected the rear end slewing around, and jumped a narrow gap, running at a diagonal through a wide, open area meant to be a window. The car took the drop on the other side with ill grace and rather too much spine compression on the part of its occupants, but we were too scared for pain. We got out, then ran through a doorway and another.

"Here," Bryan said, pointing to an unfinished doorway out onto the street. If we could skip through a couple of buildings, maybe we would lose him.

As we ran, we heard a sinister buzzing noise, then a collection of sawblades slammed into the edge of the concrete doorway and embedded there, blocking it off. We turned, and the same thing happened to the doorway we'd just gone through. We were trapped here.

"Too much gear, my ass," I groused.

"Never too much gear," he agreed.

We shared a look. It was an old one, I suppose: two people in an insane situation that's about to be very messily over for them. I hoped he knew how I felt about him. This was no time to say it. We were strong; we would persevere in stolid silence.

"I really like you," he said.

"Will you shut up? You ruined it!"

The sawblades ahead of us vacated with a crunch, then a shadow fell across the doorway. We aimed our guns.

The doorway filled and we fired a handful of shots each before we saw nothing was happening. Sawblade was standing in the doorway, all right, but his long coat must have been armored. He had his head ducked under the lapel, but he needn't have bothered. I knew from shopping for my own that he was wearing a ballistic helmet. Mine was still in the damned car. He'd shed our bullets like rain.

"Drop the guns or I cut your fucking hands off," he ordered.

Bryan looked so sad, and so scared. "I like you, too," I whispered.

"What was that?" asked Sawblade sharply.

"I said, 'I fucked your mom!'" I aimed for his feet.

They had a lot of bulletproof boot options on the website. They all had one thing in common: a plate from the toe to the shin to protect the vulnerable joint there and allow a little movement. I saw none of that here, so I put every shot I had into the spot where that joint had to flex. Never cheap out on the boots.

He howled in rage and fear. I saw something big in the corner of my eye but before I could react to it, it slammed into me like a linebacker and tumbled me into Bryan. Both of us went to the floor.

The sawblade that had just struck me lifted away erratically, as if the person controlling it was in pain. He was gone from the doorway, having wisely limped back around the corner. No matter, my gun was clicking on empty.

I saw something protrude around the door jamb. A periscope. With it to guide his blades, he really could cut our hands off.

I scrambled for another clip and emptied my weapon at it. I was a good shot, but it was a tough target and my hands were shaking like crazy. My side where the blade had hit felt wet. If only I'd live long enough to bleed out.

A trio of blades no bigger than drink coasters zipped into the room and took up position above us.

Sawblade said, "Drop your guns. This is your last warning."

He sounded like a hard man. Yankee accent, maybe Midwest. One of them militia boys, probably.

"We ain't with the government," I told him as I dropped mine. Bryan reluctantly did the same. The blades stopped spinning, moved down until they touched the guns, then pulled them away from us.

"I've heard that one before." He stepped into view.

He would have been impressive in that coat, long enough to just brush the floor, and the AR-15 he held, if not for his pronounced limp.

"Who are you with, really?" he asked.

Bryan said, "We're after Shadow Hawk. We were hoping to follow you to him. We've got no beef with you."

The guy almost glanced down at his foot, but he checked himself. "I can't let y'all live."

Thank gawd I wasn't wearing anything cute. If he'd said he was taking the pretty young blonde, I'd have puked myself to death. He wasn't half bad looking, but still. It was the principle of the thing. On second thought, with that biker mustache and the spiked hair, it wasn't just the principle.

Oh, shit. Jessica! We were the only ones in her life and now... Oh my gawd, the poor thing.

"Wait," I said. "Maybe we can work out a trade?"

"You can't offer me pussy, bitch! You just shot me!"

"You can take it out on my ass," I suggested. Ugh, this felt like I was wearing long johns full of worms. "What do you say?"

He stared at me. Through me. "Nah," He sneered, and the three blades flipped side-on toward me and began spinning.

Suddenly a knife appeared in his neck. He must have opted for the enhanced collar, so he wasn't seriously hurt, but it distracted him something awful. At once the room was full of darting, angular shapes that obscured everything, including the light. I heard a yell of pain and dove forward. I slithered on my knees and elbows, hearing shouts and shots, until I felt something. A gun. It didn't feel like mine, so I slid it back toward Bryan and kept searching.

The bird-things made a rattling noise as they bumped each other or the walls. The blades sung through the air when they moved, and made awful gnashing noises when they collided with the cement walls and ceiling.

The bird-shapes cleared out, revealing us alone. I checked Bryan, found my gun and snapped a spare clip in. Getting to our feet, we raced to the doorway.

Sawblade was in the middle of the road, under siege. The birds had organized into a thick flock, and they were making passes, buffeting and scratching him before reassembling on the other side and doing the same from the other direction. He mostly ignored these as he staggered along, preferring to snap up circular blades side-on, like shields between him and Shadow Hawk. He snatched off his helmet because the birds, unable to penetrate the Kevlar lining, had nevertheless scratched up the lenses to where he couldn't see.

Hawk was amazing to watch. He wove a path between stopped and moving vehicles, light poles and signs, like someone made of liquid. Every blade missed him. His arm snapped out again and again, prompting a hasty repositioning of Sawblade's makeshift shield before his blades found their mark. Sawblade countered with dramatic, whole-arm gesture and a flurry of smaller projectiles, all of which were dodged or deflected. Shadow Hawk flung again, and a knife embedded in Sawblade's palm.

The injured villain gestured, all of his extra blades disappearing, and two launched from his bloody hand, growing as they did so, and arrow-fast they slammed into the ground as big as walls. Shadow Hawk wasn't hit but they boxed him in now, the front of a gas truck blocking the third direction and the fourth, facing his foe, was filling up with fast-moving, small blades headed his way.

Hawk leaped and caught the edge of one of the larger blades, intending to flip over it, but Saw must have been ready for that because as soon as Hawk's weight was transferred to it, it launched straight up. Our would-be rescuer disappeared into the night sky.

Sawblade turned toward us, cuts all over his face and fury in his eyes. "Die!" he howled, and gestured. We dove for cover behind a stopped car.

A twisting black line of flying birds surged past us and battered Sawblade's face. He moved a disc to block them and they flowed around it. He moved the disc again and again, but the birds, individually not more than a nuisance, hit him again and again at their highest speed, all aiming for his eyes.

Shadow Hawk glided down, using his cloak, to land nearby.

With a roar, Sawblade brought down a tremendous, twenty foot disc, like a wall between him and us. Shadow Hawk ceased his bombardment and ran forward, but as soon as he poked his head around the side of the wall-disc, a bunch of little blades flew at his face and he ducked back.

Behind the blade-wall, we saw our bad guy rising into the air. Standing on a disc, he sailed over the fuel tanker, slashing at anything that moved with his own stream of blades, having cribbed that idea directly from his foe. Shadow Hawk ducked and dodged, as insubstantial as the night, and Sawblade sank behind the fuel tanker.

Hawk turned and ran toward us. "Run!" he yelled.

There was a cluster of sounds like the world's largest tin can being hacked open with an axe. Then there was the strong scent of gasoline.

We ran.

The fuel tanker whoofed into flames, a bright orange fireball rising lazily from it. Almost disappointingly, it didn't explode. It just burned like unholy hell. The driver had time to grab his phone and a bobblehead off the dash before evacuating the cab.

It was over. This whole insane episode was over and I didn't know whether to explode, take a nap, or fuck everything that moved. I was alive. Alive! I had two bruised ribs on my left side from the sawblade hitting me, plus a long, shallow cut on my arm where the blade had rolled off my armored vest. I didn't even get it treated by the ambulance. Hell if i'm gonna pay all that when I've got a tool belt full of bandages!

Bryan and I stayed and gave our statements to the police, who went from belligerent to resigned when they found out there were supers and politics involved. They warned us extensively not to get involved with cape business and certainly not interfere with police business, then Bryan's lawyers appeared one by one and suddenly things got a lot more cordial.

When we'd given our statements, Bryan had a junior partner drive us a short way off and leave us. We sat and waited on a park bench in the dark.

He put his hand on mine and the look he gave me said pure lust. I gave him a quick, hard kiss just to tide us over until our business was done.

A minute later we heard a voice behind us say, "You've got my attention." Shadow Hawk.

"You saved my friend's life," Bryan said. "I want to know why."

"That was Vida," came the reply. "I do them favors from time to time."

"Who is Vida?"

"Acronym. Variant Defense Association. I like to think the 'i' stands for 'idiot.' How did you get Sawblade?"

"Money," said Bryan, "lots of rental cars and mobile phones in the trunk with Find-A-Phone turned on. We went ahead of the armored car to every location and I sat in the rental waiting to get carjacked."

"You're an idiot. Why?"

"I did it for Chase. Why did they save her?"

The mysterious cape replied, "That's their story to tell. And before you ask, you can't contact them. Doesn't work that way."

"You're not very helpful," I pointed out.

"No. I'll tell them to contact you."

"When will that be?" Bryan asked.

There was no reply. After a moment we realized he was gone.

We barely got in the front door of the condo before we were having sex. He was on top, pounding me into the fancy tiles in the foyer, while I snarled at him to give me his worst. We raged together like a storm: all-powerful, all-consuming, and brief.

I cupped my hand over my sex and stood, shakily, and tottered toward the bedroom. He staggered after me.

Afterward, I leapt into all fours on the bed, turning, and bent to suck his tired little soldier back to attention. I liked it soft, as I could squeeze it and massage it in my mouth. I liked that so much that he got hard again. His big cock fit like magic in my smallish mouth.

"I want your pussy," he demanded, and with a sexy look, I turned around and waited.

I waited. And wait... "Aah!" He'd snuck it right in. "Holy hell! Augh!" He pushed it further in, grabbing my hips now, and finished by railing it in those last few inches. I gasped.

His dick in me like that was hitting all the right buttons. Except... "Pull my hair," I murmured, and he grabbed my braid. "Oh, fuck," he was pulling with just the right amount of force. His cock continued to slam into me in a steady rhythm.

And I couldn't help it. I farted.

It was just a little one. How could I be expected to hold one in under these circumstances?

We laughed about it, and he was all 'ha ha you're bad,' and he spanked me. As pumped up as he was, it was no little thing. His hand rang off my ass like a shot.

I yowled.

"I'm sorry!" he cried.

"Shut up!" I gritted. "Do it again."

He held my long, sun-colored braid and smacked my ass, and every time it was a total suspense wondering where, and when, and then he'd give me a big owie that made the rest of me so charged up. And all the while, he fucked me hard.

I was like an animal, when I first time. I was all growling and carrying on, just like a cat in heat. I had another loud orgasm, and then he busted inside me. It was his third of the night—me and Jess had him well-trained—and it couldn't have been much for volume, but damn, did it feel nice.

Afterward, wore out, we lay quietly together.

"Still want to get involved with capes?" he murmured as he drifted in and out of sleep.

"I was in a running gunfight with a supervillain tonight. Do you really think I can go back to turning wrenches after that?"

*

Jessica

At the next night's stakeout, we got word that Sawblade had been spotted. I spun the Suburban through a tight u-turn and stomped the accelerator, but by the time we got near, it was already over. Driving through, we saw scattered debris and a burning tanker truck being tended by a gang of firemen while a yellow Corvette was being towed away. Police were everywhere.

According to the police radio, Sawblade had not been captured.

*

Picture It

Jessica

When I pulled my buzzing phone out and looked at it, the damnedest thing happened. Erin gave me a shoulder squeeze.

I forgot about the call for a second and looked over to see her eyes full of sympathy. She must have seen something in my expression.

Tawney's text message said, I'm sorry. Please talk to me.

I stood in the middle of the cereal aisle peering at the screen and tried to ride the waves of thought and emotion inside my head. I entered a scathing reply, then deleted it. I entered an apology and deleted that, too.

While I struggled, she sent me another, At least tell me you're safe.

I texted back, I'm grocery shopping. There. A subject not loaded with baggage. I could communicate on this level.

She replied immediately, I miss you.

So much for a safe subject. I felt that now-familiar ache growing and wondered if she was sleeping with Bryan. I needed to say something real here, but I couldn't text fast enough to follow my rushing thoughts. I needed to simplify. I miss you, too.

The phone buzzed again. Can we meet somewhere?

I just stared at a box of Cap'n Crunch for who knows how long, blindly stepping out of the way of the other shoppers.

When she buzzed again, it startled me out of my reverie. Her message said, we're worried about you.

We.

I quickly tapped out a reply, you never said 'we' before.

While I tried to stretch a dollar by getting generic-brand butter, she and Bryan were kicking it up and living the high life. I could have that life, too, but something about that arrangement made me crazy with frustration.

Her reply said, that's because we're both worried.

There was that pronoun again. Was I jealous? Was that it? If not, then what was it?

A touch on my shoulder made me look up to see Erin. "Let's go," she said gently, and put the box of cereal I'd punched into the cart.

The ride was quiet. I was just this simmering mass of misery in the passenger seat, and damned if she didn't look worried about me. Me!

"Jessica? There's something I need to tell you."

"Whatever it is, I'm sorry."

"No. No! It's the opposite. The situation with Jennifer wasn't really your fault."

I snorted. "Pull the other one."

"No. Really. The spine things we all got... Hers changed her. She was even more aggressive than before. And she was bad to begin with."

"Really?"

"Yes. She never stopped, it was like a permanent manic episode. It was scary. And I... I'm not proud of it, but when she got caught, I was..."

"You were glad," I realized aloud.

"I was so worried things would go worse."

"Well, they did. She got shot."

She winced, "You can't blame yourself for that. We certainly can't."

"Erin, I know you're trying to make me feel better, but I'm going to cling to this lifeline for awhile, okay?"

"Sure," she lifted a shoulder.

"I appreciate you saying that," I said after a few miles.

"Ehh, you're kinda growing on me."

*

It was nighttime when we got to their house. I helped put away the groceries and went outside to look up at the hard, bright stars in the cold sky.

I heard a scuff of a foot behind me. "Hi, Robbie," I said.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"I'm a super. That, or you sound different than the others."

"Do you know why I'm here?" she asked, suddenly hopeful.

"You don't get off that easy. What is it?"

"Okay." she sighed. I felt it would be easier for her, without eye contact, so I gave her a welcoming glance and looked back up at the stars.

"Here goes: you know I want to be a woman, right? And I was wondering... How much do you miss being a man?"