The smoke filled the manor. “Mikey” clocked the closest thug in the jaw, knocking him out. He grabbed another one by the head and kneed him in the face in one smooth motion.
“What the fuck? Get him!” the boss screamed.
“Mikey” jumped over the thug trying to tackle him, tripped and flipped a second, and stopped a third dead in his tracks with a well aimed punch to the nose. A fourth got close enough to see through the smoke and aimed his pistol at the impostor. “Mikey” threw a small metal projectile at that guy’s face which made him fall to the floor and squeal like a baby. A tall guy came in swinging with some brass knuckles. “Mikey” dodged his blows expertly until a wild swing caught his shoulder. Another thug bear-hugged him from behind. Brass Knuckles went in for a one two combo. “Mikey” twisted hard, throwing Bear-Hug in the way of the attack. Another thug came in from the side with a small club. “Mikey” slipped out of Bear-Hug’s grasp, elbowing him in the solar plexus as he did and redirected Club Guy’s momentum straight into a wall. Club Guy wound up for another swing, but “Mikey” slammed his head into the same wall, knocking him out.
Someone pulled out a knife. “Mikey” drew two curved blades from the small of his back, expertly twirling them like deadly batons. Knife Guy wondered if he’d made a mistake.
Dr. Osman nodded, impressed. He hadn’t seen a display up close like this since the good old days. A marble statue came up behind him. Normally he would have been more surprised by the sight, but between the alcohol and the fact he worked with supers all the time his response was suitably dulled. He offered a polite “hello”.
“Over here, folks,” the statue said, leading the dinner party away from the mayhem. She looked non-threatening enough that they leapt at the opportunity to escape, not questioning her at all.
“Who. The fuck. Are you?” the boss screamed after the last of the gang had been dealt with. The smoke had thoroughly dissipated by this point.
“I’m the cops and you’re about to get a taste of some police brutality,” the man who clearly wasn’t Mikey said.
“The cops?” the boss asked, confused.
“Undercover, of course.”
“I ran into a Mask once in my life. Once. Never really had to worry about you fuckers. Then tonight of all god damn nights you had to come and fuck it all up,” the boss grumbled.
“Hey, that’s how we work,” “Mikey” replied.
The boss reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver case. Inside the case was a small black pellet. The Spider Lieutenant who had given it to him had said to use it only in extreme emergencies or if he didn’t care about fucking up the mission. The boss wondered if it was a super pill of some kind. Or a cyanide capsule. It could have been either one. The Spiders were fucked up like that. He decided to say fuck it all and swallowed the pellet. “Mikey” wasn’t sure what to do because he wasn’t sure what had happened. The boss doubled over in pain. “Mikey” rushed over to aid him, but was stopped dead in his tracks by an inhuman roar that hurt his insides.
“Oh. Oh fuck,” the boss said. His eyes began to glow. His breath became heavy and yellow and his veins bulged out of his face and neck. “This is some good shit.”
“Okay, whatever that was probably isn’t great for your body, so you should take a deep breath, come with me, and we’ll figure out how to detox you,” said “Mikey”.
The boss took a deep breath. Then he shot a beam of energy out of his mouth. “Mikey” dodged out of the way at the very last second. His lavender tux came away smoking and he had to pat himself to keep from catching on fire.
“I’m gonna eat you. Then I’m gonna shit you out and eat all these people. God damn I’m hungry,” the boss said, his skin becoming taut as new muscle began to grow in.
“The hell you are.”
The smoking tux and luchador mask came flying off. Nobody stood, looking more peeved than anything. The boss regarded him. He seemed wiry. Not bulky in the least. A shrimp. He ate shrimp.
“You’re not even lunch. You’re an appetizer,” the boss said.
“I’d still give you indigestion. So how about we simmer down before you break something,” said Nobody.
“Man, fuck this,” the boss said. He opened his gullet and spewed another beam of energy. This time, Nobody was ready. Crossing his two blades, he blocked the energy beam, slicing the current in two and burning carpet, drapes and chandelier around him. When the beam dissipated, his blades came away glowing red hot and smoking. His protective gloves had almost burned away completely.
“I’ve seen this before. You don’t calm down, you’re going to pop,” Nobody warned.
“Man you gotta try this shit!” the boss said, his teeth sharpening as he spoke. “I’m the King Wolf of this Mutha Fuckin World! Awooo!”
“Huh boy,” Nobody said with a sigh.
Outside, Osman and the rest of the dinner party had made it safely to the back garden. Mr. Edwards informed the marble heroine that the only way to leave the property was the front drive. The statue told them to wait while she scoped the situation out. Lucky for her that she did, because two cars sat idling in the drive leading up to the front of the house, one getaway driver waiting in each. She quickly headed back to the garden.
“There’s two waiting out front. I’ll distract them. The rest of you head to safety,” the marble maiden said. Everyone seemed afraid, but no one disagreed with the plan. She turned to leave and Osman piped up.
“Excuse me,” he began. The marble girl faced him. “You two are good. I assume you’re together, anyway. You have a name?” Osman asked.
“Um. I am… actually I don’t… I’m still working on it,” the statue said sheepishly.
“Make it a good one,” Osman whispered before winking and downing his drink. She nodded and sprinted back to the front of the manor, careful not to slip on the slick grass as her marble feet had weird traction. She hid behind a bush, waiting for an opportune moment.
“Okay, Mallory. You can do this. Just like we practiced,” she said to herself.
She ran full sprint into the first car, body slamming the driver side door and knocking the driver clear out the other side of the car. The second getaway driver opened his door, gun in hand. In a moment of panic, she pulled the busted door off its hinges and threw it at the other car. The surprised getaway driver ducked just in time to avoid getting decapitated.
The marble girl covered her gasp. She hadn’t expected any of that. The second driver rolled out of the car and shot wildly in her direction. She closed the distance between them in seconds and punted him as he was crawling away. He flew into a pillar and was knocked out cold. She swore under her breath and went to check on him. She’d never tested her strength before. Not like this. Not in the heat of gunfire. Was it adrenaline? Could her marble body make adrenaline in this form? Marble adrenaline? The driver was still breathing. He probably wasn’t all right, but he wasn’t dead. The marble girl breathed a sigh of relief.
An explosion from inside the house grabbed her attention. A man flew out of a second story window and landed in the fountain in front of the house, destroying it. She went to check the body. A burned up dude in a lavender tux lay dead in the broken fountain, still smoking. She wondered if she could vomit in this form. Someone landed behind her. She turned, ready to fight, only to see Nobody.
“We have to go,” he said.
“The people,” the marble girl protested.
“They’ll take care of it,” Nobody said, nodding toward the approaching police cars. She turned to look and when she turned back, Nobody had his grapple gun out. “Rendezvous. Two minutes.”
He shot up and over the house and disappeared from view.