Marrow (10 page)

“Hello, Marrow,” said Nero. His usual cocky smirk was gone. There was something far more threatening in his eyes.

“Nero?” I gasped. “What are you doing?”

Nero levitated closer, gliding across the shadows like a ghost. It wasn’t until now that I noticed he was wearing a sleek red and black bodysuit designed to match Fantom’s. He stopped only an arm’s length away from me, as if taunting my inability to move.

“They were supposed to kick you out of FIST,” said Nero. “You were supposed to be just another orphan on the street. You weren’t supposed to get a second chance. Especially not with Flex.”

“What the heck are you talking about?” I asked. As soon as I did, I felt stupid. I knew exactly what he was talking about. “This is about you cheating, isn’t it?”

Nero rolled his eyes. “Cheating is such a subjective term. There is no cheating when it comes to survival of the fittest. I
am
the fittest. So I did what I had to in order to survive.”

I already knew Nero had cheated. It was the only explanation for what happened at the Final Challenge. But somehow, having him flaunt it in front of me and then tell me it wasn’t technically cheating renewed every ounce anger and hatred I had ever had towards him.

“How?” I said through gritted teeth. “I called you out in front of Havoc. He said there was no way you could have cheated.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” said Nero with a tantalizing smile. “But I will tell you that I am much more powerful than you think I am.”

“So what are you doing here now?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to kill you, Marrow.”

The casual way he said this made it difficult to take him seriously. I mean, this was Nero. Brooding, awkward, pain-in-the-butt Nero. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a killer.

But then my gaze shifted to Flex’s battered Volvo folded around the street lamp. As far as I could tell, Flex hadn’t budged.

Was he . . . ?

No. I shook the thought from my head.

“Why would you want to kill me?” I asked. “Didn’t you already get what you wanted?”

I was surprised at my own boldness. I didn’t sound even a little afraid. Heck, I didn’t
feel
afraid. My tone was more skeptical than anything else. Somehow, the threat of death didn’t seem to register in my brain anymore. Maybe it was because I had already died at least a hundred different deaths in the past couple days.

“Yes, I did,” said Nero, nodding unconvincingly. “Being trained by Fantom is all I ever wanted. Once I finish the Sidekick Internship Program and graduate FIST, I’ll have a reputation to last me a lifetime. I’ll already be a celebrity.”

“Peachy,” I said. “So what’s the problem?”

“You are, Marrow. As long as you’re in the picture, my credibility stands threatened. The more credibility
you
have, the less
I
have.”

“Credibility?” I repeated. “Are you nuts? How do I have any credibility?”

“Because they teamed you with Flex!” said Nero, throwing his hands in the air. His eyes were wide and hysterical. “Don’t you get it?”

“Uh . . . I don’t know about you, but I’ve actually met Flex,” I said. “So no. I don’t get it.”

Despite my nonchalant tone, I couldn’t help glancing at the totaled car once more. Flex still hadn’t moved. Why wasn’t he moving? My stomach clenched as I considered the worst.

“Flex and your dad were a team!” said Nero. “Not just a hero and a sidekick. They were an unstoppable force. If it wasn’t for your stupid mom getting herself killed and your psycho dad losing it, they probably would have been the greatest Superhero duo of all time. I know. I’ve done my research. Flex and Spine weren’t together long, but they set some records. Although records are easily forgotten when a hero goes bad. And your dad was the worst.”

My arms started shaking. Despite Nero’s control over my body, my hands balled into fists. I could put up with a lot of Nero’s crap, but he was pushing every bit of patience I had.

“You are your father’s son,” said Nero. “Your power is just an underdeveloped version of his. You together with Flex . . . your powers mesh. It wouldn’t take much for you two to recreate their success.”

I tapped into my skeletal structure, commanding my fortified bones to fight the power restraining them. My veins bulged from the effort. The air around me felt as solid as concrete.

My knees budged.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough for me to brace the soles of my feet against the wall. I flattened my palms against the wall as well, pushing as hard as I could.

I’m stronger than Nero. I’m stronger than Nero. I’m stronger than Nero.

“And that’s why I have to kill you,” said Nero. “And it’ll be all too easy to frame Flex. Splash a little beer on him and voilà! A tragic car accident. Just like your mom. Poetic, isn’t it?”

I screamed. The wall groaned and cracked behind me, my hands and feet crushing into the brick.

Nero’s telekinetic grip snapped.

I flew forward faster than he could blink. Rearing my arm back, my fist flew forward like a fleshy bullet, connecting with his face. Nero hurtled backwards, a human skipping stone across the four-lane road. His momentum was only broken as he hit a wooden apartment sign that read, “Welcome to Sunnyside,” accompanied by a smiling sun wearing sunglasses. The sign splintered on impact.

I didn’t stop. Reversing my density, my feet glided me across the street. The wind sliced past me. I leapt up, defying every natural law of gravity. My insides lifted with me. I pulled my fist back, preparing to come down on him like a comet.

Nero blinked, mouth ajar, as he registered the world of pain he was about to be in. His arms flew up, guiding his telekinesis no doubt. I mentally dared him to even try and stop me in the air. Go on. Try.

I didn’t see the dislodged stop sign flying through the air until it hit me in the face.

I tapped into my bone density only a split second late.  With my delayed density tapped, I hit the ground like a bomb, breaking the street around me. I laid there numb for several seconds, swallowed in a cloud of dust. It wasn’t until I registered the two-foot crater of shattered asphalt around me that I saw a silhouette hovering over the dust cloud. The silhouette was red.

Too much red. This thing was way too big to be Nero.

The dust dispersed, revealing a floating crimson Volkswagen Beetle. Nero was barely visible, levitating behind it.

“Red punch buggy,” said Nero.

The Beetle dropped.

I sucked the density from my bones and practically bounced off the ground. There wasn’t enough time to jump out of the way though.

I jumped up instead.

My bones became solid steel as I rocketed skyward with my newfound momentum, fist in the air, Superman-style. I sliced through the framework like butter—not-so-smooth butter with layers of greasy metal and leather upholstery. I exploded out the other end like a missile to where Nero was hovering.

I didn’t even have to move my fist. Nero’s demented smirk barely had a chance to become wide-eyed shock. I pummeled him in the stomach.

Nero crumpled as we both fell. My skeleton became light and I landed like a cat. Nero hit the asphalt like a limp fish.

“You didn’t say ‘no punch backs,’” I said.

Again, I wasted no time for retaliation. I rushed forward, fist raised. Time to finish this.

Nero rolled over, his eyes barely focused on me. Apparently that was all the concentration he needed. He lifted a wobbly arm, fingers outstretched.

My windpipe closed.

I stumbled and fell to my knees. I couldn’t breathe. Grabbing my throat with both hands, I fumbled desperately to remove whatever it was that seemed to be strangling me. There was nothing.

Nero casually crawled to his feet and dusted his jumpsuit off. A smile slithered across his thin face as he shook his head, eyeing me like a pathetic piece of road kill.

“I’m sorry I have to go Darth Vader on you like this,” said Nero. “I know it’s not very sportsmanlike. But I
really
want you to die. I’m sure I’ll get over it.”

I gagged and wheezed, gasping for breath. My lungs felt like they were caving in. My surroundings became a blur. Black spots danced in front of me, and I crumpled to the floor. I stared at Nero’s feet as he drew near.

This was it. I was going to die. Just like that.

Something long and fleshy shot out like a whip and nailed Nero in the face.

My windpipe opened. Oxygen flooded into my lungs. I gasped, barely able to contain the sudden airflow.

As my orientation slowly returned, I crawled onto my hands and knees. I craned my head up to witness my hero.

Flex.

I couldn’t believe it. He waltzed up, cocky as ever, as his arm whipped back into place. He wiped his bloody lip with it. His dreadlocks bounced as he cracked his neck from side to side.

“Nobody picks on my sidekick except for me,” said Flex. “You got that, you brain-warped little gremlin?”

Nero and I both staggered upright at the same time. His eyes darted hesitantly between the two of us. Fighting two Supers obviously wasn’t in his plans.

“You okay, Flex?” I asked, not daring to take my eyes off Nero.

“Dandy,” said Flex. “You?”

“Never better,” I said unenthusiastically. “Don’t go easy on this kid, okay?”

“You kidding? He totaled my car. I’m going to kick his butt inside out.”

“I guess that means I have to stop going easy too, huh?” said Nero.

Nero clapped his hands together. This was followed by a lurching metallic groan. I noticed movement out of both sides of my peripheral vision. Two cars catapulted from opposite sides of the street, aimed to smash Flex and me together. I lunged forward while Flex dove out the opposite side. I landed in a roll and scrambled to my feet. My disoriented gaze shifted from side to side. Where was Nero?

Out of pure instinct, I glanced up. Sure enough, Nero was soaring high into the twilight atmosphere. It was obvious that this wasn’t some elaborate retaliation.

Stop going easy? The punk was running away!

Sure I could jump high with my power, but this was far beyond my range. I frantically scanned the vicinity for any tall jumping point. Nothing came close.

“He’s getting away!” I screamed at no one in particular.

Flex shuffled beside me, eyes fixed skyward. His face seemed way calmer than I’m sure mine was at the moment.

“Says who?” asked Flex.

“Says who?” I repeated hysterically. I pointed at the sky as if there was a giant sign hanging there that said, ‘DUH!’

Flex’s gaze was still fixed up, too preoccupied with who-knew-what to notice my panic.

“Uh . . . you don’t have a concussion, do you?” I asked.

Stupid question to ask someone with a concussion.

Flex finally met my gaze with the hint of a grin. “How do you feel about slingshots?”

“Huh?”

Flex whipped his right hand out like he was chucking a football—except his hand
was
the ball. His arm shot out, stretching thin like a rubber band before latching onto a nearby streetlamp. He repeated the movement with his left arm, grabbing the pole of a hanging traffic light. Gritting his teeth, he dug his heels into the ground to keep from sliding.

“How do you feel about flying?” he asked, grinning wider.

I decided to take back every mean thing I had ever said about Flex. The guy was a genius. An infuriating, psychotic genius, but a genius nonetheless.

I rushed to Flex, pumping density into my bones as I pressed my back against his chest. I took a heavy step back, stretching Flex’s arms more. And another step. And another. I was starting to feel more and more resistance.

“How far can you stretch?” I asked.

“As far . . . as you think . . . you need,” said Flex through his teeth. His voice didn’t sound too convincing.

I increased my lead-footed pace, pulling back five yards. Ten yards. At twenty yards, Flex’s arms looked like thin bungee cords ready to burst. At this point, Nero was barely a red speck in the sky.

Flex’s face was much redder.

“Please . . . take your time . . .” said Flex. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

I tapped into my skeletal structure and zeroed out my bone density.

My feet were ripped off the ground. My insides flattened against the back of my rib cage as I blasted skyward. The wind shrieked in my ears and whipped my skin and clothes. My lips flared out as I whizzed face-first. I couldn’t breathe. My surroundings were a disorienting blur.

And then I saw it—a flare of red growing larger and more defined.

I was hurtling right on target.

“NEEEEERRRRROOOOO!!!!!” I shouted into the wind.

Nero glanced back just in time for my density-packed fist to nail him in the face. The sickening smack of knuckles against flesh resonated through the atmosphere.

My momentum ceased. Nero and I plunged downward, side-by-side. Flailing my hand out, I grabbed his limp arm. He was out cold. I pulled him close, back against my chest. Sliding my arms under his armpits, I interlocked my hands around his chest. We were tumbling down to the grassy field of a park. Swinging my body in the air, we plummeted with my back to the ground.

Grass or no grass . . . this was going to hurt.

I waited until the last moment to increase my bone density. I hit the grassy surface like a meteor. Dirt exploded around me. The ground might as well have been made of Jell-O. By the time our bodies finally stopped, we were wedged several feet deep in earth. Chunks of soil rained down on us. I had Nero as a human umbrella, but I would have rather taken my chances with the falling debris. Bits of grass were the last to fall, fluttering like confetti. As the dust cleared, I could see Flex just barely past Nero’s fat head.

“Comfy down there?” Flex asked.

“Please get me out of here,” I said. My voice was muffled with Nero’s hair in my mouth. “I can’t wait to turn this jerk in to the police.”

“Police?” said Flex. “This is bigger than the police. We need to call the Guild.”