SuperHeroes!

3. Caught...

John followed his quarry down the street. It was late and there was hardly anyone else in sight. They had travelled barely a block before a gang of three men stepped out of an alley and stood in front of Guy, blocking his path. John held back, hiding in the shadows, his pulse beating faster as he waited to see what would happen next. He was sure Guy would have some supernatural way of handling himself, but what if he was wrong?

"Hand over your phone and wallet," demanded one of the men, stretching out a hand.

"Or what?" asked Guy, hands on his hips.

The man gave a disbelieving laugh. "Or we'll beat you to a pulp, faggot!" He gave Guy a hard push in the chest making him stagger back several steps.

John waited, poised on his toes, wondering if he would have to step in. He could hardly stand by and watch a man get beaten up.

But before he could make up his mind, the three men rushed at their prey. John couldn't see exactly what Guy did but suddenly all three men appeared to slip and fall heavily. Two crashed into each other, knocking their heads together painfully, while the third landed flat on his back and cracked his head on the pavement. He didn't move.

Gripping his weapon with one hand and hauling his badge out with the other, John strode forward to the group of men. "Police! Hands where I can see them, right now!"

Guy raised his hands immediately but the two assailants who were still conscious didn't move, simply blinking up at John with dazed eyes. The third man was out cold. John would have bet a week's wages they all three had concussion.

John pointed his gun at Guy. "Keep them up, Mister."

"Hullo, Masters," said Guy cheerfully. "You don't need the gun, you know. I think we're on the same side here."

John didn't answer, but spoke into his phone, calling for back up and an ambulance—careful to keep his gun trained on Guy.

"How did you do that?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Guy shrugged, and smiled. "They slipped."

Very carefully, John eased behind Guy and cuffed his wrists together. Only then did he stop to look at the ground, searching for an oil slick or something which would cause the men to fall like that. A large patch of oil met his probing eyes. He was almost certain it hadn't been there minutes before, when Guy'd walked over that same stretch of ground.

"How did you do that?" he asked again, despite himself.

"Practice," said Guy, with another smile. Then he was serious for a moment, meeting John's irritated gaze. "I didn't pluck the oil out of thin air—I just moved it from one place to another. From inside that car engine there, out onto the pavement."

"So you admit you have special... powers?" John was incredulous.

"Superpowers, yes. But I use them for good. I guess you could call me a superhero," admitted Guy, trying—and failing—to look modest.

Half fearful, half jubilant, John bundled Guy into the police car which had just pulled up at the same time as the ambulance. All three muggers were loaded into the ambulance and driven off to hospital along with a police guard.