[WP] One morning, you woke up with the ability to see true and false when written down. If it glows a golden color then it is true, but if it glows a dark color, then it is false. Out of curiosity, you go to the library and walk into the History section, and to your horror, all you see is darkness.
*****
All eyes were wide open, all muscles strained, all James clenched, perspiration everywhere in the sizzling deadlock.
Mill was getting punched up less frequently, but had still been hammered with a lot of nasty blows that were hard to take. The guy hebwasbfacing had to be a boxer, and for now he avoided direct hits to his liver, as that would incapacitate him for a while. Punches to the back of the head were also a no-go area, so he ardently watched his back and moved appropriately to avoid getting hit.
He was beginning to understand their movements and gain control of the situation. There were no breaks, no slip-ups, nothing like that in their fighting style. They all complemented each others moves in quick succession, each picking up where the other left off, or even acting while the other was still acting. The fluid transmission meant that he couldn't find a weak link to capitalise on and break through their onslaught.
That was where the problem arose. It was supposed to be near impossible to achieve such fluidity and synchrony, even for people who had been fighting with each other for years like him and Meek were. Some of their opponents were still able to find loopholes to fight back. These guys weren't. Even if he avoided a punch, a crystal would pierce or graze him. The attacks were unending, and they were delivered with pinpoint accuracy.
It all had to fall on PointGuard. Somehow, he was influencing the battle, and Mill focused on him while he moved, bobbing and weaving and gettig hit every now and then. Then he thought of a sneaky manoeuvre that would prove effective.
Raising his hands, he sent out a spray of crystals, which were instantly blocked when the other guy mirrored his attack. But he sent out another spray almost concurrently, throwing them off balance.
While this was happening, as usual, the speedster moved. But then, he broke the crystals sealing his wound and sent out a six-inch long crystal aimed at the running figure.
It was easier to predict his direction when he already knew what he was going to do.
As he watched PointGuard's lips and read them, he realized what he was saying.
"Right, around the back, slow down he'll see you,. zip to the front, punch in the face, left hook in the gut."
Of course, in a battle of speed, he could not win against someone who had the innate ability. The boy executed all those movements as they were being dictated, and he was on the ground, winded, in a few seconds.
But what he didn't miss was the surprise on the speedster's face. Apparently, such a quick movement being executed in real time was new to him, therefore he had not developed the reflexes required for all those moves he had just displayed.
Was he then being controlled by PointGuard?
PointGuard...
Point Guard.
For the first time in so many years of hearing that name, something finally clicked in Mill's head. A point guard in basketball controlled the pace of the game by making the crucial passes, defences and movements.
PointGuard here was determining the pace by giving instructions that the people on his team were bound to obey as far as they could hear it. By using their abilities and his compelling tongue to his advantage, he could turn them into toy soldiers that would move a t his will, and take out the enemy -at his will.
For the first time in a while, Mill spoke. "That's one hell of a trick."
He sent out another shower, but this time it was potent enough to come from all his pores. The copycat did the same, but failed to realize that he had sent a second shower after the first.
The speedster, who was not protected by the Metal guy and thus in the dirwct line of fire, got hit multiple times by tiny needles. As he winced in pain and slowed down, Mill saw his chances and spat a large, sharp crystal that smashed into Dasher's chest, killing him instantly and splattering the blood everywhere.
PointGuard didn't even have the time to react. He did not see that one coming. Restatement to one of the Foundation's best, he thought.
"That's one down, and the biggest threat too, if I'm not mistaken," he said, finally smiling. He was barely standing, and was sure to have some internal injuries, but he had taken the troublesome buzzing fly down.
The look on PointGuard's face was pure gold. He looked perplexed, and then looked back at the fourth man behind him. Mill wandered what they one's ability was. From the look PointGuard have him, he had to be a contingency plan of some sort. But what was it? Escape? Or some dangerous, sure to hit attack?
"Good job," PointGuard said, clapping in mock. That was a nice takedown, although it looks like it cost quite a lot to execute that. You look like you just finished boxing a kangaroo. How are you going to take the rest of us?"
Mill smiled. He knew he was still handicappe, but now that there was no one hitting him faster than he could react, he could take the copycat next.
*****
TO BE CONTINUED.
