Chương 37: A Zero in Disguise

The hallway was empty, not a single person in sight as Brandon ground my face into the locker. Second period was about to start, so he could have the next hour to torture me all to himself if he wanted. The tardy bell rang, echoing through the barren space, but I was not going to be saved by it. I tried pushing against him, but Meat Tower was indeed as solid as a skyscraper.

"I don't know anything," I said through clenched teeth.

"I made it up!" He laughed, leaning more of his two hundred and twenty pounds onto me. My shoulder made a cracking noise as it pushed against the metal of the lockers.

"You were pretty accurate for having made it up.

'Cause I've heard rumors about the Chem Heads and what they've been doing. What I didn't know was who they were working for. But it sounds like you do. So how about you tell me everything you know or we can see what these lockers look like with your blood on them." I could see one side of his face and that was it. My right arm was trapped under his chest and my left couldn't reach anything.

There was the possibility of using my powers, but my brain still felt like raw meat from last night, nor was it a good idea to potentially out myself in front of Brandon. I did have other things I could use. If I could get an arm free." You should have a little more sympathy, Zero." His sour breath filled my nostrils as he leaned in close so his beady eyes could bore into mine.

"Yeah, I want powers, just like you. I don't really care how they come, so why don't you tell me who's giving them out and maybe I'll let you be my assistant." It happened in a flash. How I never realized it before, I'll never know, because it was all just so simple and obvious then. Brandon "Meat Tower" Taylor spent his whole life doing dangerous things, putting himself –and too many others– in harm's way. The guy had no fear when it came to death, and that inevitably meant one thing.

"I know your secret, Brandon," I said, smiling even as the locker handle pushed into my jaw.

"You're just like me, a zero. You tried a long time ago, something that almost killed you, and it turned out you didn't have any powers. And you've spent all of this time still trying and punishing yourself and everyone else since–" My body crushed further into the row of lockers and the metal groaned in response. The pain swirling through out my body demonstrated why he was venerated so much as a lineman for our football team.

Each of my ribs felt like they were being cracked and my shoulders were on the verge of folding in on themselves. Obviously, my sudden realization did not exactly help my situation.

"No matter what, I'm always going to be better than you, Zero," He growled. I tried wriggling my right arm, but it was pinned tight against his massive chest. There would be no finger poking my way out of this, especially when I couldn't even see the target. A small black camera was attached to the ceiling ten feet down from us, which meant time stopping really wasn't in the equation either. My feet were the only things free to move, the only weapon I had.

I could stomp on his foot– no, wait– there was a much better choice. Face still mashed against the locker, I ground out, "You're right, Brandon. You are bigger and much stronger than I am, and maybe that does make you better than me. But you have one weakness that I don't."

"If you start lecturing me about the power of love, I'm going to be s–" I kicked my foot back and up as hard as I could between his legs, so Brandon never got to finish his sentence. The heel of my shoe struck dead center and his final words turned into a high-pitched yelp. He stumbled back as I pushed myself away from the lockers and turned to face him. Hands clasped around his crotch and face screwed up in agony, his eyes slowly opened again to lock with mine.

"You're going to regret that." His voice was hallow and tinged with pain. He launched himself towards me, arms spread wide to slam me back into the lockers. A few months ago, I would have let him, unable to even move from the fear locking up my body. But after sparring so many times with Tianyu, and fighting a mutant with razor blades for nails just last night, Brandon came off more like the sloppily drunk guy at the bar than a formidable foe.

Meathead was all yang and hopefully would give me ample opportunities to redirect his force. His mallet-sized hands shot out towards me, but I bent my body to the side, ducking under his arm and then twisting around to push both hands onto his back. Directing all his forward momentum into the lockers, head first. There was a deafening crash as he dented the metal and stumbled to the floor. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Looking more dazed and confused than Tony from science class, he stumbled back to his feet. Classroom doors started to open in the hallway and students stuck their heads out. His eyes were slightly unfocused as he glared at me.

"You're dead, Zero!" For a brief moment, I contemplated the insanity of being angry at someone just for defending themselves. Brandon might not have powers, but he certainly had the right attitude for a villain. Brandon's fist came flying at my face with a right jab, but I bent to the side until it swept past me. His left came around with a wild hook, but I stepped back and let it fly by as he stumbled forward. His footwork was terrible, feet too close together as he launched haymakers that threw him off balance.

Each swing was obvious with the way he would shift his weight. My eyes picked up every detail as my enhanced mind processed it. I didn't feel particularly fast or that time was slowing, it was just that in comparison to who I had been training and fighting against before, Brandon was just… slow. A small smile slipped onto my face which only seemed to enrage him further. I was in Mr. Cheng's courtyard with the tall dark trees and the small sprigs of grass.

The blue sky stretched out around me like an invisible barrier, blocking out the noise of the city, the smog, everything. And I was the one spinning in and out of a fight, slipping around my opponent like I was merely dancing. Brandon stood with his chest heaving, skin flushed and beaded with sweat. It wasn't that strenuous of a workout, so it had to be his peabrain trying to figure out what was going wrong with the fight, why he hadn't been able to smash me like a bug yet.

Kids had streamed into the hallway, crowding around us and were screaming, "FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT" over and over as the teachers rushed forward. Meathead's eyes locked with mine; the glassy, slightly concussed look gone from them. His mouth opened to let out a hoarse battlecry, the kind that probably made the opposing team on the football field wet their pants. My breathing slowed, still in Mr. Cheng's zen oasis. Brandon's fist flew towards me, but I lifted my hand and batted it aside with an open palm.

His arm swung wide and there it was, an inch below his collarbone. I could see it as if it was painted on his shirt, just like the dummy in Mr. Cheng's office. My left foot slid back on the tile as my right arm extended, rushing forward with my two fingers locked together. They struck right on target, slamming against his shoulder, just like crazy cat lady from last night. His arm dropped limp and fell to his side.

Brandon's face looked at it and then to mine, eyes popping out of his face and jaw clanging to the floor. My hands reached out to push him one final time, as easy as pressing open a door, and he stumbled and fell to the ground just as the teachers reached us.

"Stop! Stop! Nobody move!" This was probably the closest Mrs. Heigel would ever come to being a cop, standing with her arms outstretched and speaking in her most commanding voice.

"Mr. Taylor, are you ok?" Meat Tower's eyes were still stuck on my face, his eyelids flung open as wide as they would go as he glared. If this were a cartoon, this was where steam would have erupted from his ears.

"I can't move my arm," he said through gritted teeth. Mrs. Heigel crouched down to the floor, fingers hovering over his arm.

"Is it broken? I don't see any blood." Brandon turned to his other side and leaned on his good arm to shove himself up.

"It's not broken; she couldn't break my arm! She's a Chem Head; she took something to give her powers!" The teacher glanced up at me, eyebrows raised. Then she must have realized who she was looking at, and frowned before turning back to Brandon.

"Mr. Taylor, are you on something?"

"You got beat up by a little zero girl, Meat Tower!" someone shouted from the crowd and everyone started laughing.

"Look!" He shook his torso from side to side so that his arm flopped around uselessly.

"She used her fingers to make it numb. I can't feel it at all. I don't know what she did, but it's not natural. She's gotta be a Chem Head!" Everyone's head turned to me, eyes round as they looked over me. At least this time I could tell the truth.

"It's not drugs or powers, dummy. It's called self-defense, and I'm sorry this is the first time you've experienced it." Brandon rushed forward, but Mrs. Heigel put two hands out to stop him.

"YOU DID SOMETHING AND I KNOW IT, YOU LITTLE–""BRANDON! You're a second away from being expelled." Her head turned toward me.

"Now, Cass, do you want to explain more about what you did to his arm?" I scratched the back of my head and let out a long breath.

"It's a special kind of Kung-Fu I've been learning. It's going to make his arm numb for an hour or two, then it'll be fine." Silence followed this pronouncement until someone in the crowd began to sing out in a Carl Douglas voice, "Zero was Kung Fu fighting!" Some of the basketball team chimed in with the Chinese sounds that followed.

"That's enough, thank you, everyone can stop now. Mr. Taylor, Miss Keene, you both are coming to the principal's office with me right now." She held onto Brandon's collar and pulled forward. The crowd parted around us. For the first time ever, people were looking at me and smiling. Brandon might be king of our school, but he was the tyrant kind. The one whose subjects wanted to see fail just as much as they cheered his wins. High school truly was a microcosm of medieval society. And I had just killed the king.

A sea of faces stared at me with the strangest look in their eyes. There was respect and awe, in some of them even a little bit of fear. Occasionally, I recognized certain people. Collin smiled and waved from behind some guy. He always was a Collin Creevy; I don't know how I ever mistook him for Harry Potter. A few people down, Tony gave me a once over with his red, half-closed eyes and then a wink. Embry watched with a cold stare as I passed.

I saw Mavis near the end of the crowd, whose lips were set in a thin, straight line as she stared at me. She looked away first before I followed after Mrs. Heigel.