I was out for the first time as Blackjack though that once I was on the other side of the equation, listening to police scanners, trying to do something decent, trying to make a difference like some idealistic fool.
It was one of those golden LA days, almost too perfect. I should have been on a beach, drinking something cold, but I was possessed those days, eager to use my powers, hungry for action. A call came in over my police scanner, a bank robbery nearby. I’d chased down a few and never made it in time, but this one was a few blocks away, and I got there before the guys were out of the bank.
They were a rough crew, three guys wearing combat fatigues and dark masks, sporting high-caliber assault weapons. The fourth swung a large black SUV in front of his partners as they left the bank, stopping only long enough for his team to dump the bags into the open trunk and jump in for the getaway. Long enough for me to find a nice vantage point.
I was in an earlier version of my costume, all black, with a long cape slung around a shoulder mounted quiver, and an off the shelf compound bow I had barely even practiced with. And why practice, to be honest? My physical gifts made practice a formality. The real challenge was in the field. I’m a super, I’ll be fine.
I lined up the shot at their SUV as it rushed towards my position. The driver was skilled, driving fast, but not so much that the tires made any noise, nor did he drop the gear so far that the engine howled unnaturally. They were barely going ten miles over the speed limit, making my shot that much easier.
As the big black truck got closer, I released the arrow and it found its mark. My aim was perfect, but my calculations on the explosive arrowhead were way off. The truck didn’t come to a nice and clean stop, its engine dead, as I had expected. The thing actually blew twenty feet into the air, spinning backwards from the explosive momentum generated under the engine, slamming into an oncoming car and coming to a screeching halt, inverted and facing the opposite direction. The devastating explosion blew out the windows of every car and storefront within three hundred yards and several other cars swerved wildly, causing an instant traffic jam.
I must have been off at least decimal point on the Heptanitrocubane charge, because nothing was left of the front half of the smoldering SUV, and the driver and passengers were ejected out in separate directions by the severity of the charge. In a split second’s mistake, I had gone from a hero in the making to a possible murderer.
I rushed to the burning car, coming up to the first of the injured bank robbers, unconscious and covered in flames. Using my cape to wrap him up, the fires extinguished soon enough, and a cursory examination showed this fellow to be in decent shape. That wasn’t the case for the next man I reached. His body was covered in burns that had eaten through his clothing. Quivering in shock, suffering from horrible injuries, I jumped on him, trying to smother the fire, and lay him on his back. He needed immediate medical help, and I didn’t hesitate, digging into my pack for a cell phone.
Then a heavy breeze hit the area, and the temperature dropped dramatically. A caped figure flew over me, and before I could turn to see it, or cry out for help, the super raked my body with lightning, hurling me at the burning vehicle.
It was Atmosphero.
He landed as I rolled into the roaring inferno of the SUV, summoning up another powerful electric charge. But I drew an arrow and fired it without missing a beat. The concussion charge erupted only a few inches from his face, dropping him unconscious in an instant.
And there I was, surrounded by injured bank robbers, by a passed out super who saw me as the bad guy, and at my feet was a sea of green.
One of the money bags had ruptured upon flying out of the rear of the truck, some of the money landing in a pile, some of it floating in the air, like a rain shower of twenty dollar bills, and still more was now kindling for the flames surrounding the car. There must have