Blog of a Teenage Superhero

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sacrifice

Silence falls heavily between the boys as they stare into the lancing rain. Movement flickers in the corner of Finn's eyes, the dread a palpable knot in his stomach. Kai clenches the steering wheel with both white fists, surveying the damage as if for the first time. "My car," he says. A tremor of a moment passes. He raises his fist and slams it to the horn, blinking as if waking from a dream. "My car!" 

Finn can't take it. He screams, the tension of the night snapping through him like whiplash.  "Who cares about your car!" His hands land on the shoulders of his friend's, stilling him. Finn stares into Kai's eyes to keep from looking back at the vans and at the black-capped men slipping from their vehicles. If he focuses, he can tune out the scraping of metal on metal, the heavy footsteps crunching grass. If he focuses hard enough he can just hear his and Kai's ragged breathing, his own hitched pulse. "I just care about..."

You. Finn wants to say, but he doesn't.

"Finn!" Kai jerks back, black eyes lit up with fear. His hands tremble as they slide off the wheel. "Behind—"

With a shriek that curdles Finn's blood, the door on the passenger side rattles free. Finn nudges Kai's chin, suddenly mute.  Fear surges through him, white hot. Kai tries to hold on to him. Can't.

Gloved hands snatch Finn's neck, and though he wriggles and kicks, he's yanked out of the open door in half a second. His foot catches in the horizontal bar under the seat, his mind scrambling for a plan, a thread to hang on to. Stay in the car. Don't let them take you. Rain stings his face. He knew this was a bad idea, knew it, and yet, as the man yanks him so hard his kneecap pops, he doesn't regret it. Monet is in trouble, after all. A second man dumps Kai from the car, sending the small boy bawling in pain when he hits the ground. Chip kicks his door open, tumbling out onto the path in a kicking heap. Just as Finn's face is bashed into the gravel, Chip scrambles up to an impassive captor, a fist raised. "Leave him alone! You—" The boy glances up at the sky, yelps, and steps back.

Finn shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut against the sting of pebbles. There's pressure against his temple, a kiss of cold steel. "Damned wonderful," he says, earning himself a mouthful of grit and gravel. He winks up at the black sky, suddenly too tired to be scared as he lies in a cold puddle, the splatter of raindrops bringing on shivers.

Masquerade thumps down beside him, kicking up a spray of gravel in Finn's face. The villain's cape dangles off his shoulder, tattered and blood-stained. Nail marks curve in the exposed wrists. And his face is showing.

Finn quirks an eyebrow. "Oh, hey Max."

This snaps Chip back into the moment. The blood surges back to his face and he hurls a fist full of gravel at the boy who was once his friend. Max never changes expressions. His lip curled up  slightly, his eyes too wide, like he's terrified or deranged or maybe both. Flicking away rocks caught in the collar of his cape, he smiles at Chip, at Finn. Both boys shudder.

Chip scoops up another handful of grit, palms it. His face is hardened, his shoulders rolled back, ringlets of blonde hair hiding his eyes. Max's smile hedges. And then it broadens.

Kill him. It's something Max must do. Perhaps Monet was right to say that Max didn't have the guts to kill before, because he hadn't.

He and Chip had been friends since they were kids. Chip, the sour middle-schooler in the obscure band tee-shirts with his hair a shaggy fringe in front of his eyed. A shy kid at heart, so in love with music that has bedroom walls were papered in album covers and his notebooks inked corner to corner in lyrics. He'd set vinyls into his turntable after school and the two boys would dance, or headbang, cheesy as they were. Percy would roll her eyes, smoothing his crumpled bedsheets, tossing wadded song-sheets into the wastebasket. "Do your homework!" Every day was like this, for years. Many nights they had unofficial sleepovers, chugging Monsters until Chip and Max woke intertwined on the living room couch, flushed and grumbling, maybe a little scared if they happened to be at Max's house.