Short Story - 5 on the 101 (Conclusion)

Short Story Tuesdays

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A half dozen cars over, Batman and Superman were closing in on number two, the bad guy pulling out a gun and firing off a few rounds to keep them at bay…

The scuffle with the first terrorist was getting ugly, the brutal realism of my life or yours being a lot more grittier than the clean choreography of a Hollywood movie.

Hitting.

Scratching.

Gouging.

As Peter, Storm, and Wonder Woman tried to subdue him on the hood of a Mini Cooper…

Superman had counted seven bullets so far, half of which came way too close to taking them out while they crouched behind a Volvo. He had no idea what kind of gun it was or how much ammo it held, for he was just a normal guy. All five were just that— average everyday people just trying to make a living, the only thing unique about them, their Hollywood Boulevard job.

Just as all seemed lost a guy popped up from around the Mercedes in front of them.

“Will this help at all?” he asked.

He held out a tire iron.

Batman grabbed it, the two ol’ friends knowing it was their only hope, his years back as a high school star quarterback possibly being the lifesaver they needed to gain the upper hand…

It felt like a bad dream, Peter whaling on the first terrorist with all his might, the blows seeming to have no effect, the guy’s iron grip refusing to release from Wonder Woman’s screaming face.

Being three against one, it was a tactic of desperation to focus on one adversary at a time, the terrorist shoving his thumb as deep as it would go into her eye socket, Storm biting down on his wrist so hard it drew blood…

Superman held his breath as he baited number two, trying to give the shooter a glance at his shoulder, his hand, his leg, while at the same time trying not to get shot as he ran, dunking down behind cars, hoping it would give Batman the one opportunity to go for the Hail Mary…

Peter’s thigh began to feel warm and tingly as he wrestled with the first terrorist, he and Storm now on the pavement with their bad guy, Wonder Woman no longer in the fight, but instead off to the side and in shock, unable to find anything in her now empty eye socket.

Peter didn’t want to look down, his survival instincts trying to steer all focus to the enemy, but his leg- He felt like he was losing the use of it. He had to glance-

It was covered in blood, slashed open a few inches deep.

He looked back up just in time to catch sight of the small but razor-sharp pocket knife being thrust into Storm’s throat…

Batman looked five yards out to number two, eagle-eyeing the side of his head as the terrorist kept firing rounds trying to take out Superman.

He brought the tire iron up above his shoulder, used his other hand to aim and balance, then whipped it forward in a powerful release.