The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

Chapter 267: 267 | A Draw Was Never an Option

Silence for three seconds. Then her voice came through the crystalline wall, smooth and controlled and utterly certain. "Belmont. I watched your fight with Camille through the building’s security feed. Impressive improvisation, though I noticed your technique lacks any formal training structure."

"I work with what I have."

"What you have is insufficient for this engagement. My barriers are rated for impacts exceeding four hundred pounds per square inch. Your telekinetic constructs, based on your registered profile, cannot generate that level of force. You should withdraw and accept the timer victory for our team."

She was right about everything except the registered profile.

"Counter-offer." I let my constructs spread out across the wall, probing for weak points in the crystalline structure. "You let Percy go and give me the hostage. We call it a draw."

"Why would I accept a draw when I’ve already won?"

"Because I’m about to do something stupid."

"Stupidity is not a tactical advantage."

"Depends on how stupid."

I gathered all four constructs into a single point directly in front of the crystalline barrier. The amber light intensified as I fed more power into the formation, pushing past the comfortable threshold that my fake Aspect profile suggested as my upper limit. The constructs began to glow brighter, then brighter still, until the amber luminescence cast shadows on the hallway walls.

Petra’s voice carried a note of interest beneath the condescension. "Your output is exceeding your registered specifications."

"Yeah. That happens sometimes."

I punched through the barrier.

The crystalline wall shattered in a spray of emerald fragments that scattered across the hallway like glittering rain. The impact sent shockwaves through my constructs and the feedback lanced through my skull like someone had driven a railroad spike through my temporal lobe, but I was through the barrier and into room 2C before Petra could react.

The room was exactly as Percy had described. Sparse furniture. Single entrance. Reinforced window with the seal partially peeled back from where my constructs had been working earlier. Percy lay against the far wall with capture tape binding his wrists, his expression a mixture of frustration and relief at seeing me arrive.

The hostage dummy sat in the center of the room, trauma sensors glowing a calm green.

Petra stood between me and both objectives.

She looked exactly like she had in the observation deck, except now she was ready for combat. Her emerald and white costume hugged her figure with the kind of precision that suggested molecular engineering, and her black hair fell in perfect waves around her shoulders despite the fact that she’d just generated enough crystalline mass to seal an entire doorway. Her emerald eyes met mine with an expression that communicated absolute confidence in her own superiority.

"You’re stronger than your file suggests."

"I get that a lot."

"It doesn’t matter. Strength without technique is wasted potential." She raised one hand and crystalline constructs began forming around her fingers, each one shaped with the particular elegance that her Aesthetic Perfection trait guaranteed. "I’ve studied three years of Halloran combat footage. I know every approach vector, every tactical formation, every standard Channeler limitation. You cannot surprise me the way you surprised Camille."

"Probably not."

She tilted her head slightly. "Then why are you smiling?"

"Because you just told me exactly how to beat you."

I didn’t give her time to process that. My constructs shot forward in four different directions, not toward Petra but toward the walls, floor, and ceiling around her. She tracked the movement and generated barriers to intercept, exactly as I’d predicted, her Conjuration responding to perceived threats with the automated efficiency of years of training.

The barriers blocked my constructs from reaching the walls.

They didn’t block the constructs I’d hidden outside the window from reaching in.

Percy’s partially peeled seal was still open. I’d left two constructs on the building’s exterior during my fight with Camille, positioning them for exactly this moment. They phased through the gap in the window seal and grabbed the hostage dummy from behind while Petra’s attention remained fixed on the four visible constructs pressing against her barriers.

The dummy slid toward the window.

Petra’s eyes widened as she registered what was happening. She spun and generated a barrier to block the extraction, but the crystalline wall formed a quarter second too late. The dummy was already through the window gap and falling toward the courtyard below, cradled in an amber embrace that lowered it gently to the ground-floor ledge Percy had mentioned earlier.

"No!"

Petra’s shout was the first genuine emotion I’d heard from her. She abandoned her defensive position and rushed toward the window, but I was already between her and the exit.

"Checkmate."

My constructs wrapped around her arms before she could generate a counter-barrier. The grip wasn’t gentle and it wasn’t careful. I pinned her against the wall with enough force to make her gasp, and for one long moment we stood there in exactly the kind of compromising position that the System had specifically requested.

The capture tape locked around Petra’s wrist with a soft click that echoed through the suddenly quiet room. Her emerald eyes went wide as the reality of her defeat settled in, and for the first time since I’d met her, Petra Lang looked genuinely surprised.

"Impossible."

"Yeah, I get that a lot too."

The announcement system crackled to life. "Villain Petra Lang has been captured. Hero team achieves objective extraction. Match Three goes to H-3."

Percy let out a whoop from his position against the wall, capture tape still binding his wrists but his face bright with victory. Through the window, I could see my constructs gently lowering the hostage dummy to the courtyard below, mission complete.

Petra stared at me like I’d just solved quantum physics with finger paint. "Your range exceeds fifteen feet. Your lift capacity exceeds twenty pounds. Your file is completely inaccurate."

"My file says a lot of things."

"The IHL diagnostic scans are infallible. How did you—"

She never finished the question because that’s when physics decided to remind both of us that I was pinning a very attractive woman against a wall with supernatural force while adrenaline coursed through my system and twenty classmates watched through security cameras.

The problem with using constructs for restraint is that they respond to unconscious intention as much as conscious control. When Petra’s struggles shifted the fabric of her emerald costume in ways that highlighted exactly how well the molecular engineering fit her frame, my brain processed the visual information and my constructs responded accordingly.

The amber grip on her wrists loosened just enough for her to twist, and the momentum carried her forward off the wall. My constructs compensated by wrapping around her waist to prevent her from falling, which pulled her directly against my chest. The position was intimate in ways that combat training had definitely not prepared either of us for.

Petra’s breath caught as she found herself pressed against me with nowhere to retreat. Her emerald eyes were inches from mine, wide with something that wasn’t quite anger anymore. The scent of expensive botanical cleanser mixed with the ozone smell of her crystalline constructs, and I could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against mine.

"Release me."