Origins #20 Max

I Had five hours left until the ceremony. That was almost no time for an investigation. I had to work fast. First off, who was Hotfoot, what did he want, and who did he work for? I decided to solve the third problem first, since it seemed like the easiest one to work through. I grabbed a whiteboard from a cupboard and wrote down the names of every supervillian gang and organized crime ring in the city. 
The most important ones, EZ, Third Street, Dragon’s Teeth, Soyuz, Chemogods, Society of Chrome, and the Knights of the Prince were written in huge letters at the top. I immediately crossed Third Street out, and most of the smaller groups. If a smaller gang had acquired that much power, they definitely would have advertised it. Only a bigger group would keep that kind of juice secret. It definitely wasn’t EZ. I crossed that name off the list. He wasn’t a robot so Society was out. That left Soyuz, Dragons Teeth, Chemogods, and Knights. 
Soyuz was definitely a possibility. After the Soviet Union fell to the Businessmen and Galactic Alliance invasion, and subsequent liberation/regime change orchestrated by the US there was a huge migration of ex Soviets into America. The communist extremists gathered in Roosevelt City which was a very liberal area and recruited dissidents and disillusioned youths to their cause. They ran protection rackets and sold Soviet super weapons too the highest bidder for “party funds”. They were the biggest rivals of EZ for both political and historical reasons. EZ has a lot of members who were under soviet rule, or lost people to the Soviet supers and terrorists. Hotfoot could have been a new recruit sent on a revenge hit, which would explain his lack of killing. A KGB super would have executed everyone there, including me. 
The Chemogods were effectively what remained of the American Mafia run by a bunch of super powered junkies controlled by the cartels. They all got their powers from different chemical or radioactive means, most of them were temporary. Bonebreaker was one of there head lieutenants, and the most recognizable member since the actual leader, only known as the supplier remained in the shadows. I crossed that name off. Hotfoot was way more powerful than any drug they had access to, and they never hired mercs that weren’t hooked.
Dragons worked for Samjoko, so if it was them, the entire dimension would have been leveled. 
That left the Knights. Hotfoot had enough power to be one of them, but The Prince was above dealing with EZ. Maybe they stole something from him? Maybe Stewart Little got superpowers and assaulted a dimension by himself. Could they have had something he wanted? Doubtful. He could have built something twenty times better, or even just magicked himself one. 
That made him a Communist. I circled Soyuz, and grabbed a new whiteboard. It obviously wasn’t a simple robbery, or even hit and run. Sure he grabbed a few weapons and wallets, and told them to bring their valuables, But he had to know how stupid EZ were. They never knew when they were outclassed, and would frequently attempt to fight much tougher supers by themselves. As you can imagine it would always go swimmingly. EZ would move all there valuables out, bring every fighter and weapon they had around to the base, and set a trap. He had to know that, which meant that was part of his plan. He wanted all of EZ’s manpower in one place. 
He wanted most of EZ’s manpower in one place.
Most of the Supers on the east coast would be in one place at the same time. 
That couldn’t have been a coincidence. 
I sprinted out of my room, down the lavish hallway, through the massive kitchen, And into. The basement. Skidding across the linoleum floor, I landed at the computer and furiously clicked until I. Found the files regarding my return from the pocket dimension. Harry had found out where it was, but the warrant was still in processing. I highlighted the dimensional frequency and plugged it into his private teleporter, a few feet from the bathroom. It sprang to life in a purple display and I hopped into the black battle suit. The Hud lit up in a bright sky blue hologram surrounding my head, and I sprinted into the portal
Lights blurred past me for an instant, and I found myself standing in a pool of blood. Body parts were strewn everywhere, and I stifled a gag. I composed myself, and walked down the corridors, my footsteps splashing in the sometimes inches deep crimson. Burn marks decorated the walls, which were sliced to ribbons. I inspected one of the deep gashes, and found a sticky wad of, of Human Hair. It was attached to a ribbon of scalp, with brain falling off I shook it off my finger and stifled a gag. 

Down the halls could hear something. Voices. The suit rippled before disappearing completely and I crept forward. I peeked around the door, and saw the mousy man in a brown suit trembling in a corner. He held a large assault rifle in increasingly whitening hands as he whipped around every so often. That little shit tortured me. I felt a well of anger rise up in me and I stalked forward. Not even bothering with the stealth, I stepped into the room, eliciting a scream and sustained gunfire. The bullets were low caliber, but they hurt, only making me angrier. I slapped the gun away, breaking his wrist, and held him aloft by his throat.  “You,” I growled, letting him see my face. He choked out a scream while I reached to my eye muscles, looking for the specific muscle I needed.
Most people say revenge never satisfies you. It never fixes the hole in your heart. Well, I can assure you that it felt pretty damn good when I burned his fucking eyes out with the twin lasers mounted where my eyes should have been. 
He fell unconscious about a second after I finished. I tried to release my hand from his throat but it wouldn’t budge. I frantically thrashed about, attempting to at least move an inch, but my body refused. In a panic I activated the jet boots but nothing happened. 

I was trapped.


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