Part Twenty-Three August 27, 2016
Without an updraft gliding is a constant downward motion. He didn’t get as much wind as he hoped. The sniper turned just as he was diving into her. He twisted to avoid Ms. Caligulass shooting him. But he needed to remove that rifle. Another bullet hole in his thigh as he grabbed onto to her! Hurt a lot more than the AA 89K 9MM Pistol Allaric’s stooges normally use.
“Just hit the mechanical mannequin in the head and as you do get into a lung stance so you don’t topple over,” Ms. Grady told him.
“And break my hand?” His Galeton knit gloves. Good for gripping but they weren’t padded like boxing gloves.
“Hit it Norm!”
He grit his teeth, punched the mannequin in the head, at the same time moving his feet apart. The mannequin flew across the rotunda’s floor and Norm slid back. He didn’t get his feet apart fast enough and fell on his back.
Ms. Grady offered him a hand. “We’re in the stopping people from getting killed Norman.”
He thought of the time he almost killed Kyle Whittleway. “How do I control it?”
“By controlling it,” she said. “Hit the mannequin gently, then a little harder, and you should be able to learn how hard to hit. You’ve worked on electrical components for years so you know you can control your strength.”
He did a long exhale and inhale.
“Yes,” he heard Ms. Grady say into her Blackberry as he practiced punching the mechanical mannequin with different intensities. “Theory and practice are over Norm, time for practical. Put this Bluetooth headphone with mike. Sometime we’ll add a communication and camera into your helmet.”
He held his Spartan helmet and with his googles inside, on his lap as Ms. Grady drove to wherever they were going.
“Dollar store goggles won’t save your eyes,” she said turning down Shatner Street and making a left onto Shuster Crescent. “I’ll get you military grade goggles that will fit under your helmet if we get back.”
“If?” he asked.
“This is for real.” She pulled into the gravel driveway of a box warehouse with rusty corrugated walls. He put on his helmet. His heart was pounding like it did when they went after Softie. He saw Ms. Grady lower her window and point her Blackberry at the warehouse.
Norm got out of the car and drew his Webley Tempest. A red beam pointed at his chest and he fell back from numerous hits to his chest and groin. When the pinging noise of his suit and the Audi being hit stopped he sat up. Bullet casings popped out of his skin as his blood drew itself back into his body.
He was in the warehouse shooting his tranquilizer at anything that looked human. At the front wall he saw two men shooting through steel panels cut into through the metal. They went down first. He felt numerous hits to his helmet and upper body as he spread his legs so he wouldn’t fall down.
He shot a dart into a man with a 89K rifle as he peaked around a stack of crates. Ms. Grady came in with her own tranquilizer gun drawn. She started handcuffing the unconscious goons’ wrists and ankles with lock ties. Norm waived the Webley Tempest side-to-side as he walked between the crates. At the back he went into an empty office and removed a laptop.
“Clear,” he said into the Bluetooth as he made it back to the front of the warehouse.
“I’ve called the local authorities,” she told him. “As long as they get here before Allaric’s stooges wake up the Hemping’s lawyers won’t be able to impede any investigation. No sign of Allaric?”
“No, but I’ll check through this laptop when we get back.”
She looked up and down his body. “Your suit is ruined but I don’t see any wounds.”
“No,” he said climbing into the passenger side of the Audi, putting on the seatbelt, and flipping open the laptop.
She climbed into the driver’s side, started the engine, and turned to him. “Shouldn’t you be dead?”