Part of the building’s roof had crumbled over the years, and Malcolm could look down on the scene below. Four men had a woman cornered, shining bright flashlights in her face.
For a moment, his mind jumped back to night security, or the police. Then, he listened to what they were saying.
“Nobody would ever know,” said a gruff voice. “We could all have our fun tonight. There’s nobody here but us!”
“I’m with John,” said another voice. “It took us forever to get her in here. Might as well get our rocks off. She’s pretty fucking hot, all things considered.”
Malcolm sighed.
Looks like I’ll be playing crime stopper tonight, after all.
CHAPTER 9
Malcolm took a step into open air, summoning the wind as he fell through the hole in the building’s roof toward the ground. He landed not far from the men, dropping to one knee in the classic superhero style.
The men’s conversation immediately ceased. Two of them turned to face him, the other two keeping their flashlights on the woman. She was curled up in a ball, with the hood of her sweater pulled up over her head.
“Gentleman,” said Malcolm. “You should leave that woman alone.”
“Who the hell are you to be telling us-”
Malcolm pushed his hand forward, summoning as much of the wind as he could and slamming it in the direction of the voice. He saw the man fly off his feet as though he’d slipped on ice. His flashlight flew up into the air, and his head struck the concrete hard.
“That’s a concussion,” said Malcolm. “They’re super bad for you, from what I hear.”
He used a small trail of wind to catch the man’s flashlight, swirling it through the air for a second before striking another man across the face with it. He went down, and Malcolm couldn’t help but smile.
That’s two knockouts in two seconds. At this rate…
He was still smiling when a shoulder thudded into him from behind, catching him completely off guard and knocking him to the ground. The time in between the attack and when he hit was too short for him to cushion his fall with the wind, and all the breath was forced out of his lungs as he landed.
The fifth man who’d surprised him was smart. He followed the attack up with a hard kick to Malcolm’s ribs. The pain was intense, and it kept Malcolm from being able to focus enough to reach for his powers and counterattack.
“Get the girl,” said the fifth man. “And get the others moving. I’ll deal with this fucker.”
“Brett, hold on a sec,” said another man. “He’s the dude from the news! Wind Runner!”
The fifth man hesitated instead of pressing on the attack. It was a mistake. Malcolm had time to take a breath and get a sense of the situation. One of them was dragging the girl out of the building. She was by the door they’d come in through.
Malcolm pushed the man standing over him back with the wind, and then pulled a massive gust down against the hole in the roof he’d fallen in through. Dust and rocks cascaded into the room, obscuring everyone’s vision and striking at least one of the thugs with something painful enough to elicit a grunt of pain.
Malcolm charged toward the girl with the wind at his back. The man dragging her out of the warehouse didn’t see him coming. A quick push was all it took, and then he had the girl in his arms as he took off running across the concrete lot outside.
He made it around the corner of another building and hesitated, wondering if it was alright to leave the men able bodied.
They were talking about rape. But it’s not like I can just murder them in cold blood?
He had a conscience, and on top of that, he wasn’t sure if it would have even been something he could have accomplished with just the wind. If he’d had a knife, or something else dangerous to fling at them, sure. Otherwise, it would still be five against one.
Malcolm listened for a minute, expecting the men to press after him in their search. He was a little surprised when they didn’t. They kept their flashlights on, and he was able to track them as they left the industrial park and headed back in the direction of town.
“Well that’s convenient…” he muttered. He was still holding the girl, and gently carried her into the light of one of the few working lampposts nearby.
She was wearing an oversized black hoodie. Malcolm gently pulled the hood back and froze at what he saw. Her skin had a distinct, purple hue to it. He glanced up, as though there was a chance that it was just being caused by the effect of the streetlight or the ambient light of the sky above, but it was undeniable.
She’s a spryte. She’s not human.
Malcolm had no idea what to do. She was unconscious, but clearly still alive. And the fact that he still held her in his arms meant that she was now his problem.
He briefly considered trying to get in touch with Tapestry, or one of the other champions at the dome. None of them had given him their contact information, however, and it wasn’t as though he had any means of getting back out to headquarters on his own.
Leaving her where he’d found her also wasn’t an option. The men could come back and finish what they’d originally planned. Or, more probably, the spryte could regain consciousness and attack a person, or break into a house.
Malcolm did the only thing that made any sense. Using the wind to buoy his load, he started walking back to his apartment.
It took him longer than it had on the way out, and his arms were tired by the end of it. There weren’t many pedestrians out on the street, which was a small miracle. He set her down to unlock his door once he was in the hallway, and then carefully carried her inside.
Malcolm set her down on the couch and considered everything he knew about sprytes and demons. He’d read every article he could find relating to them shortly after the start of the Phenomenon and his family’s deaths. He’d read stories about fire demons torching entire towns to the ground, and water sprytes sinking ships.
I don’t even know what this spryte’s powers are…
The spryte on his couch made a small noise and blinked her eyes open. Malcolm stiffened, readying himself to fight, if it came to it. The spryte looked up at him, her eyes dark, but strangely expressive.
“Uh… hi,” he said.
The spryte slowly stood up from the couch. She reached down to the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled it up and over her head. She was wearing a black t-shirt and yoga pants underneath, clothes tight enough to show off an incredible body.
Malcolm tried his best not to notice, given how little bearing it had on the situation, but it was hard. Her body bordered on being voluptuous, with large, full breasts, a trim waist, and an eye-catching butt.
She was on the tall side, only an inch or two shorter than he was, and her hair was black and glossy. She wore it loose across her shoulders, and it made her seem like she’d just woken up from a deep sleep.
She stared at him with those dark eyes, holding his gaze and making the room come alive with tension. Her lips were pouty and luscious, and the color of the ocean at night. She pulled them up into a slight, suggestive smile, and then turned away from him.
“Hey, hold on a second,” said Malcolm. “I have some questions for you.”
The spryte walked around the couch and further into his apartment. Malcolm scowled and followed after her.
“What were you doing before those men captured you?” he asked. “And why are you in Vanderbrook? Are you planning on attacking the city?”
The spryte walked into his room. It was dark, illuminated only by a small strip of ambient light sneaking in through the curtains of his window. It was enough for him to see her pulling her t-shirt off, and letting it fall to the ground. She turned so that she was standing sideways, and Malcolm could see the illicit bump of the tip of her nipple in her silhouette.