Robert Crane - Untouched

“You okay?” Zack appeared at my side.

“I’ll be fine once I mash this comic book geek into paste in his own suit.” I rubbed my chest where the kick had landed. “How’s fatboy slim?”

“He’ll live,” Zack replied as I walked to a nearby wall and opened a box containing a fire extinguisher and pulled it out. “What are you doing?”

“I’m on a roll with these things. Shhh.” I held a finger up to my mouth and positioned myself next to the hole in the wall after I pulled the pin out of the spray mechanism. I waited and sure enough, Henderschott didn’t disappoint, sticking his head out of the opening. I jumped out and yelled “BOO!” mostly for effect, and depressed the trigger. Foam shot out, covering his face, the slit for his mouth and the eye holes—which was the point. He staggered back, clawing at his face. I ducked through the hole and went beneath his flailing arm to get behind him. Once I was, I put my back against the wall and jumped as he edged backward toward me, using the strength in both my legs to give him a hearty shove.

He went sprawling back through the wall and landed facedown with a clang, his metal chestpiece landing on the tile floor. He ripped at his mask and I smiled; he couldn’t see a thing because I had covered his eyes with foam. “Looks like you need some glass coverings on your helmet with some little windshield wipers.” I grabbed him by the helmet again and lifted him over my head, slamming him to the ground. Fragments of tile shattered and flew everywhere; I saw Zack dodging away from us. I lifted him again and started to bring him down but I felt him slip out of his helmet on the downward arc.

Henderschott bounced and landed on his hands and knees, his head exposed. His hand came up to his face and wiped the powdery film of the fire extinguisher away from his eyes as he rose to his feet and his hands dropped to his side. His face was scarred, hideous, with scars from his forehead to his chin. One of his cheeks was sunken in, like the flesh had been stolen from it. His teeth were jagged, what of them were left, and his jaw hung at a funny angle.

I cocked my head and looked at him, pretending to appraise. “You know, I liked you better with the helmet. Here.” Without telegraphing I threw it at him, as hard as I could. He didn’t dodge in time, didn’t even get a hand up. The helmet hit him in the nose and a geyser of blood erupted as his head snapped back. He staggered, moaned and his hand came up to his face. After a second of trying to clench his nose with his metal encased fingers I saw him drop one of his gauntlets to the ground. He held his hand over his nose, but it didn’t do much good. He was bleeding badly; it was slick down the front of his armor.

He looked to be unsteady on his feet and I pulled my gloves off one by one, tucking them into my pocket. He looked at me, his eyes watering. In the distance I could hear police sirens. Henderschott heard them too, his eyes flicked around and he turned and ran into the department store to the side of us. I took off after him in spite of a shout from Zack. “Get Kurt out of here!” I yelled back to him. “Pick me up outside!”

I saw Henderschott running through racks of clothing, flinging them aside, metal and fabric all around me. There were shouts and screams as people tried to get out of his way. He was slower than I was but he made good use of the obstacles in the store to slow me down. He heaved a circular rack that was five feet in diameter at me and I was forced to dodge to the side, pulling a stroller with a kid in it along with me.

I landed on all fours, staring at the face of a very scared baby before jumping back to my feet and returning to the chase. I heard a scream of gratitude from the kid’s mom and the beginning of a serious cry from the kid as Henderschott blasted through the glass exit doors feet first. I wondered why he had jumped through them that way until it occurred to me that with his head unprotected he’d get sliced like lettuce if he had plowed through the glass in a shoulder charge.

The window shattered as he broke through it. He landed on his back just outside the door and grabbed a trash can from the sidewalk. I had just rounded the corner and was about to follow him through when he whipped the trash can at me. It was big, looked to be encased in concrete, and it blasted through the windows that hadn’t already been broken between us. I was forced to throw myself out of the way to avoid a shower of broken glass that cut through the air where I had been standing only a moment before, shredding the clothing on the rack behind me.

I picked myself up from the floor and looked up to find Henderschott gone. I ran outside through the glass he had broken, my hands ready to seize him by the face and drown him in unconsciousness, but as the biting chill of the outside air prickled my hands and face, I looked to either side. He was gone. Just in case, I looked up the side of the building. No sign of him.

What there was a very clear sign of, however, was police presence. Red and blue lights were flashing at the entrances and more were lighting up the night at all corners of the parking lot. A car screeched to a halt in front of me, Zack at the wheel and Kurt sprawled out in the back. Zack made a frantic gesture for me to get in, which I did, and the tires squealed as we made our getaway.

“What happened to the armored guy?” Zack’s hands were clenched tight on the wheel as he steered us through the parking lot and to an exit that didn’t have red and blue lights swarming along the road it led to.

“I don’t know.” I pulled my gloves out of my pocket and slipped them back on. “He threw a trash can at me and when I got back up, he was gone. I guess he hid in the parking lot.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Zack said, sending me a tense smile. “With that many police officers on the ground, we would have had a hell of a time apprehending him.”

“Not as tough as you think,” I said. “All I needed was another minute without the cops and I think I could have put him down.”

He looked from the road to my hands, now back in their black leather sheaths. “You really would have done it?”

“I would have knocked him out.” I looked at Zack’s earnest eyes. “I think I can do that without killing someone. I mean, I don’t really want to…you know.”

“Yeah.” He turned back to the road. “I know.”

I looked to Kurt in the back seat. He still wore the collar but seemed to be unconscious and presumably no longer electrified. Zack pulled out his cell phone and made a call to Ariadne, filling her in on the encounter at the mall.

When we returned to the campus, we did not head to the garage but instead to the small underground parking area under Headquarters. When we pulled up in front of the door, Dr. Perugini was waiting along with Ariadne and Kat Forrest. When she saw me, the doctor began wagging her finger before the vehicle had even stopped. “You! I knew it was you!”

“I didn’t do it,” I said, shutting the door behind me and opening the one to the backseat.

Perugini’s eyes narrowed. “Why is it that I do not believe you?”

“Isabella,” Ariadne said with excess gentleness. “Perhaps you could make sure Hannegan is all right?”

“I will treat him,” she snapped. “What is this?” She leaned down and pointed at the collar around his neck.

“Some sort of electricity-based capture collar,” Zack said. “It was meant for her,” he inclined his head toward me, “so it’s probably pretty damned strong.”

She poked at it, and Hannegan jerked and screamed, electricity running through his body. I jumped back from the door, leaving him plenty of space to writhe about. He fell out of the backseat, landing on his shoulder and coming to rest in a heap on the curb. Everyone else kept their distance except Dr. Perugini, who stood only a few inches away. “I need to get this off of him.” She whirled to Ariadne. “I need the lab rat.