Justice Keepers Saga--Books 1-3, page 65
Jena flipped herself back over the railing, her feet coming down upon the man's shoulders. She squeezed his head between her ankles, then flung him sideways, right into the wall. Breslan hit hard.
As she got to her feet, Jena turned to face her opponent. He was pressed up against the wall with his head turned, blood dripping from his nose. “I must admit,” he muttered. “That was a little impressive.”
Jena kicked high.
The man crouched, reaching up with both hands to seize her ankle. A sudden flare of energy that she could only sense through her bond with a Nassai told her that Breslan had crafted a Bending. The fabric of space-time warped around her, creating an artificial gravity field.
Jena was sucked backward, all the way past the edge of the balcony, wind whipping at her hair and clothing. As she watched the building recede into the distance, she knew she had to act fast.
Closing her eyes, Jena threw her head back. The wind blew short auburn hair away from her face. “Come on!” she hissed at her Nassai. “We can do this! It hasn't been that long since we've had to practice.”
Working with the symbiont, she reversed the Bending that was already starting to fade, creating a gravity field that pulled her back in the other direction. The strain was immense – she had to work against not only the normal shape of space-time but also the warping that Breslan had created – and she felt her skin begin to prickle as though she had been stung by a thousand bees.
Jena lurched to a stop in midair.
She flew back toward the building with her arms spread wide, rage boiling in the pit of her stomach. On the balcony, Breslan stood with his back turned, wiping blood off his face with a sniffle.
He turned around at the last second.
Jena's feet slammed into his chest, propelling him backward, right into the sliding glass door. The pane shattered, and she landed atop him in the middle of a well-furnished hotel room.
The man grabbed her legs with both hands. He flung her sideways, causing her to land roughly on the carpet and roll away from him. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the door to the hallway was open. Whoever had been in here must have seen them fighting on the balcony and run for help.
She got to her feet.
Breslan was already rising, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You just won't die,” he said, turning his head to fix a steely gaze on her. “I'm sorry, Morane, but this is no longer amusing.”
He tried to knock her senseless with a high-kick.
Jena ducked and felt the man's foot pass over her head. She watched him bring his leg down, then begin a spinning back-kick that would probably break a couple ribs if he made contact.
Jena caught his ankle.
Bending gravity herself, she lifted him off the floor and flung him sideways into the wall next to the door. He collided with enough force to crack plaster, then dropped to his knees on the carpet.
Breslan pulled aside his jacket, revealing a holster on his hip. He drew the weapon, then flung his arm out to point it at her.
Jena raised a hand, crafting a Bending despite the pain it caused. At this point, her skin was on fire, and she was nearly ready to pass out. Tiny spikes drilled into her skull. Please, she thought at the Nassai. Just a little longer.
A bullet struck the curtain of rippling air and rebounded, curving slowly to head back in the direction it had come from. She let the Bending drop just in time to watch something knock the gun right out of Breslan's hand.
He knelt there, staring into his open palm, blinking slowly in disbelief. “Oh, you're very good,” he said, shaking his head. “Truly impressive. I have never met someone with such refined control.”
Jena took a step forward.
Wooziness took over, and her vision darkened for half a second. She felt like she might just fall flat on her face. “A little worn out?” Breslan mocked, his voice dull and distant. “Put a little too much strain on your Nassai?”
Sheer force of will kept her on her feet. The hazy image of Breslan came toward her for a final blow, and though her vision was cloudy, she was absolutely certain that he was smiling.
He threw a punch.
Crouching down, Jena reached up with one hand to grab his wrist. She used the other to punch him in the chest. Once, twice, again. Three blows in quick succession left him winded and wheezing.
A final punch to his jaw landed with enough force to send a tooth flying out of his mouth. He stumbled backward, trying to keep his balance. You have to end this before he comes back for more.
Seizing his head in both hands, Jena gave a twist and snapped his neck. Breslan fell to his knees, then flopped over onto his side, his eyes bulging when he realized that he was about to die a most painful death.
Jena bared her teeth, staring down at him. She mopped a hand over her face. “It was fun,” she said. “I really did need to burn off some energy, but you had to know you weren't walking away from this.
She sat down on the floor.
The exhaustion that came from overtaxing her Nassai nearly made her black out again, and she rested her body against the side of the bed. Perhaps she should have felt guilty, but she didn't.
This man had taken lives – if not with his own hands, then by proxy – and as far as she was concerned, that meant she was allowed to employ any measure necessary to put a stop to it. She would have arrested him if she could have, but anyone with a brain would know that was incredibly unlikely.
No, the only thing she felt was pride.
A cancer had been rotting away in the upper ranks of the Justice Keepers, and she had just removed her very first tumor. Now maybe they could make some actual progress in bringing down the terrorist. She would check in with Jack when she got her strength back, but for now, she was just going to wait for hotel security to appear.
28
Leo probably thought he had a significant lead. The knife had been a brilliant move really, inflicting just enough damage that Jack would be compelled to attend to Harry, but not so much that he couldn't be convinced to leave and resume the chase. If nothing else, Jack had to give his opponent this much credit: he was a master manipulator.
Of course, Leo had probably expected Jack to go after him on foot; taking his car was a damn good way to close the distance, especially when he was fairly certain of his opponent's destination.
The construction site was illuminated by white lights on tall poles, each one bright enough to make the whole place visible from across the street. It was probably an attempt to discourage teenagers from hanging out there after the crew went home.
The foundation and metal framework of a large building had been set in place, but other than that, no significant work had been done. Bright yellow tractors were parked at the corner of the lot. Jack spotted a few piles of metal beams, along with several other places where Leo might hide.
He got out of the car.
Hunching over with a hand pressed to his chest, Jack winced and shook his head. “I am so gonna catch pneumonia,” he muttered, starting across the street. “Note to self: keep an extra coat in your trunk.”
A fence of metal grating surrounded the construction site as a safety measure. Of course, that wouldn't do a damn thing to stop Leo, and Jack wasn't about to let it stop him either. He called upon Summer to lessen gravity's pull.
Bending his knees, Jack leaped and soared into the air. He flipped over the fence, then dropped to the gravelly ground. A slight tingling sensation in his skin faded quickly. So far, he hadn't strained his Nassai too much.
A glance to the side revealed a spot in the fence where the metal grating had been ripped wide open. Now he knew Leo was here. “Well, sure,” Jack muttered with disdain. “This works if you throw subtlety right out the window.”
He started forward.
Craning his neck, Jack squinted at the unfinished building. “You know, this is really unimpressive!” he called out, shaking his head. “For a guy who's so amped about a final showdown, you sure do love to hide!”
“I'm not hiding.”
The voice came from just inside the framework. A large square archway that was clearly meant to be the school's front entrance was littered with cigarette butts. Just inside, a concrete floor stretched on for several paces before giving way to a large pit.
Jack stepped inside.
His opponent dropped from the framework above to land crouched at the edge of the pit, a huge smile on his face. “I'm glad you could come,” Leo said, standing up. “Just between the two of us, I thought you might…What's that phrase your people like to use in situations like this? Chicken out?”
“Let's get on with it then.”
Leo crossed his arms and turned on his heel, pacing a line in front of Jack. “Right to business then,” he said with a shrug. “I wasn't expecting that. I thought you'd want to open with some moralizing speech about how we don't have to do this.”
Smoothing his features, Jack looked up to fix his gaze on the man. “You're honestly surprised?” he asked, brow furrowing. “After all the shit you've pulled, you think I'd pass up a chance to knock you senseless?”
“Oh, very good.”
Leo faced him, putting his back to the pit. “I tell you what,” he said, spreading his arms wide as he slowly moved toward Jack. “Because I'm such a good sport, I'll even let you throw the first punch.”
As he closed the distance to his opponent, Jack felt a range of emotions. Fear and anger blended together with a touch of guilt. Strongest of all, however, was a desperate need to end this. Now.
Jack decided to take the offer.
The other man leaned back, raising one hand to knock the blow aside. A fast palm-strike to the face left Jack stunned and disoriented. He tried to focus, but the hit had left him off balance.
Leo kicked him in the chest. The man spun like a whirlwind, one arm lashing out for a backhand strike. Instinct made Jack duck.
He felt something pass over his head, then waited for his opponent to come around. He drove both fists into Leo's stomach. The strength of a Keeper was not something to be taken lightly.
Leo went stumbling back, all the way to the edge of the pit. “Oh, you're good!” he said, pressing a hand to his belly. “But not nearly good enough to kill me. You just don't have the stones for it!”
He leaped and flew through the air at wild speed. A silhouette passed over Jack's head, dropping to the floor behind him and landing with arms spread wide. The man let out a growl.
Jack turned.
His opponent was already facing him, one hand stretched out to reveal a force-field generator gripped in his palm. A screen of white static appeared between them, hissing and crackling.
It sped forward and hit Jack hard, causing his vision to double. He was barely even aware of being thrown forcefully into the pit. Air rushed around him and then something cold hit his back. Pain flared in his muscles, and Summer protested the need to heal his body once again.
Curling his legs against his chest, Jack somersaulted backwards and came up in a crouch. “Damn it!” he muttered, shaking his head. “Okay, bro, I'll admit you've got a few good tricks.”
He stood.
A quick survey of his surroundings made it clear that he had landed in a basement with a great big hole in the ceiling. Stacks of thin wooden slats and piles of cinder blocks were positioned against the walls, no doubt intended to be used in construction.
Leo dropped into the basement.
The man landed in a crouch, hunched over with a hand pressed to his belly. “I've got to admit, you're doing quite well.” With a groan, he stood up straight. “To be totally honest, I was expecting this to be over already.”
An ugly smile stretched across the bastard's face as he crept closer. “You know the saddest part?” he asked with a shrug. “When I look at you, I see a simpering fool plagued by self-doubt. It's hard to believe you could last more than five seconds.”
For a moment – just a moment – Jack had a chance to stare into his opponent's dark eyes, and he wondered what could push a person so far over the edge. Maybe Leo was a pitiable creature. Then he smelled the stink of foul breath and snapped back to reality.
Jack crouched.
He punched Leo in the gut with one fist then the other, then rose in the blink of an eye. He threw a mean right cross into the other man's face. A satisfying crunch was his only reward.
Jack spun and back-kicked.
His foot hit nothing but air, and he realized Leo had moved aside. The other man seized his leg before he could retract it and forced Jack down onto his knees. When he got his bearings, he saw Leo standing over him.
The other man raised his foot above his head and brought it down in a powerful ax-kick. Jack threw both hands up to shield himself, catching his opponent's leg. He stood up with a growl, forcing Leo off his feet.
The other man fell over backward, slapping hands down on the hard stone floor. He flipped upright.
Jack jumped and snap-kicked.
A black sneaker to the chest sent Leo stumbling backward, and the man let out a loud wheeze as he tried to regain his balance. He stood hunched over with arms spread wide, distracted for a few precious seconds. Jack moved in for the kill.
Leo rose and threw a punch.
Jack ducked, evading the blow by inches. He drove a fist into Leo's stomach: once, twice, three times. Each blow channeled a torrent of rage, and he relished the thought of inflicting pain on this bastard.
Leo jumped, somersaulting over his head. The man uncurled to land on the floor, then kicked out behind himself. An old gray boot hit Jack's spine, and the next thing he knew, he was staggering.
He went face first into the wall, bracing hands against its surface before his nose made contact with the concrete. Pain flared in his back, mingling with the echo of the jolt he'd received when he fell into this basement.
His opponent was quick; he wasn't going to win this by brute force alone. There had to be something else he could use, some other… An image formed in his mind: Leo striding toward him.
Jack turned in time to see his opponent moving across the room with teeth bared. “I'm glad to see you're putting up a fight,” Leo hissed.
The man threw a punch.
Jack turned his body sideways, catching his opponent's arm and pinning it against his own chest. He crouched down, then flung his elbow into Leo's stomach, receiving a glorious squeal for his trouble.
A second elbow to the face knocked Leo senseless.
The man went stumbling away, raising a hand to cover his bloody nose and crying out at the top of his lungs. It should have been over, but Amps could heal a man almost as quickly as a symbiont could.
“Not like this!” Leo bellowed.
He reached into his pocket, then thrust a hand out to reveal yet another force-field generator in his palm. A wall of flickering electrostatic energy appeared between them and rushed forward with the momentum of an eighteen-wheeler.
Jack leaped.
Curling up into a ball, he somersaulted through the air and let the force-field slide past underneath him. He flipped upright, then dropped to the ground to land hard upon the concrete floor.
Leo was already on him.
The man threw a jab that landed in Jack's belly. A second punch to the face filled Jack's vision with tiny silver flecks. The next thing he felt was a pair of hands grabbing his shirt. Then he was stumbling backward.
He went right into the wall, hunching over from the jolt of pain in his body. As his vision cleared, he saw Leo striding toward him with fury in his eyes. Brute force wasn't going to win this one.
There had to be something else he could do. Jack took note of a large pile of cinder blocks just a few feet away. Could he use them in some way? There had to be some way to end this. Think, Jack. Focus!
Leo didn't have a Nassai of his own, but he compensated for that with gadgets and strategy. The last time they tangled, he had tried to force Jack to tire himself out, and it was a good bet he was doing the same thing now. That meant the only way to win was to end the conflict right away.
First, he had to get the man riled up enough to do something stupid, Psychological warfare. Everything Leo said or did was designed to get under his skin. He was going to have to fight on that level.
Gritting his teeth, Jack hissed and shook his head. “You're not even a real Justice Keeper,” he said, spinning around to face the man. “You're just a pretender with a couple lousy parlour tricks.”
Leo froze.
“Keep on telling yourself that, old man,” he snapped. “It must really tear you up inside to think that with all your power, you still can't beat me.”
Jack moved to his right.
Chewing on his lip, he looked down at the floor. “Yeah, you've got a point there,” he said. “I kept wondering how you were able to stay one step ahead of us.”
“Any guesses?”
“Not really.”
When his hip touched a pile of cinder blocks, Jack nearly jumped. Then an idea occurred to him. Poetic justice in fact. “You see, I stopped worrying about you when I realized what you are. You're nothing but a pawn in this game, Leo, a tool to be used in someone else's design.”
Leo crossed his arms and threw back his head, shaking with a burst of laughter. “So sure of that, are you?” he said, taking one step forward. “What if I told you I've seen the face of God himself?”
“I'd offer you a glass of Kool-Aid,” Jack replied. “Think about it, dumbass. If you were really that important to the master plan, how come they never gave you a symbiont of your own?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Don't play dumb with me,” Jack mocked. “Pennfield got a symbiont because he's actually important to the cause. They gave you Amps because you're nothing but cannon fodder. They'll use you, and when you've served your purpose, all they have to do is cut off your supply.”
Leo fumed at him, hissing air through clenched teeth. With each passing second, his face took on a darker shade of crimson. “I'm going to kill you!” he shouted, charging like a bull across the room. “I'm going to rip your throat out!”
