Chapter Fifteen:

No Matter What They Say

There was another hailstorm of bullets as X-Large hid in a Bullseye, shooting from behind the frozen food's section. People who were shopping there left immediately while the Bullseye employers hid or ran to the bathroom to hide in there. Wes snapped his fingers, instructing his men to flush out any opposition. He cocked his shotgun and began aiming. He saw Claw trying to run across to the other side and let off a shot. He missed. Fuck! He ran towards him but saw that one of his men was impaled through the stomach by Claw's pincer horns. He disemboweled him and then began firing again.

Wes, however, was not done. He blasted Gale in the head from a distance. The eighteen year old collapsed to the ground, blood spilling all over the sheer white floors of Bullseye. More of Wes' men rushed in, shooting up the place with their full autos. Many people trying to escape were caught in the crossfire, getting blown to bits from these high caliber weapons. X-Large saw that Wes was unconcerned with civilian deaths; more so than he was and would not even try to avoid them. X-Large snarled and set aside his empty assault rifle and clicked the safety off his handgun, still crouching behind the frozen food aisle. He heard bullets flying again and raced forward, moving at breakneck speeds, knocking an opp on his ass, breaking his jaw and spine in process. He began firing back and then dashed away when they began spraying the whole fucking store. Another shooter was impaled by Claw and then shot in the throat. Wes whistled to his men and regrouped, heading up the two flights of stairs to the second floor. Without looking, one of his men charged in and in a few seconds, found himself screaming in pain. Wes held his arms out, stopping anymore of his men from advancing. He saw that the whole of second floor was covered in metal spikes. The man who ran in without looking had impaled his foot on one of them. Lil Thorny was with Roman Rotor, hiding in the mattress section.

"Man, fuck this bullshit!" Lil Thorny whisper-screamed. Roman looked around. The second floor was the appliance and bedroom section of Bullseye. He spotted down the aisle: microwaves on sale.

"Ay, cover me!"

"Nigga what, you know how slow I am!" Lil Thorny shouted.

Roman ignored him and ran as fast as possible—which was quite fast. He sprinted past Wes' shooters who were now shredding the place with bullets. He skidded to a halt the, reaching the aisle of household appliances. He grabbed the microwave, scaring off civilians who were hiding in the aisle. His eyes started to glow as he electrocuted himself. At first it was painful, but the he began grinning manically as his eyes went from lifeless blue to a supercharged ruby. He let go, dropping the microwave to the ground. The screaming shoppers running the other way tipped off the opposition to where Roman was. They ran towards him, pushing a woman and her kids out the way as they started lighting up the place. Roman dove behind an on-sale shelf and focused his energy. His eyes began to glow as he let out a spiraling wave of superhot flames. The conflagration consumed everything in its path—frying up appliances, shelves, on-sale ornaments and eventually three shooters that had been in range. They screamed as they caught on fire, running wildly about. In mere seconds they were burnt to an unrecognizable, inhuman crisp. He took a deep breath and slumped down, feeling his energy drain as he did that. Wes saw that the second floor was catching on fire from that Overheat. He told the remainder of his men to retreat. Lil Thorny's eyes widened as he slowly shuffled away, heading to the elevator, just barely missing the flames that were starting to spread rapidly. Roman, unaffected by all this, made his way down the stairs, discarding his melted gun. Lil Thorny was sighing in relief, happy that he wasn't caught in that firestorm. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open only for him to be met by more of the opposition. They opened fire, but the bullets bounced off him, doing practically nothing. He punched one of them and they weaved easily because Lil Thorny was not known to be fast. But he managed to catch one who was distracted, crushing his jaw with the power of his punch. When they tried to hit him back, spikes emerged from his skin. The opp skewered their fist on one of his barbs. Immediately the man withdrew, crying out in pain, holding his bleeding hand. Lil Thorny began shooting, catching one of them in the throat. But as he did, an extra opp rolled on by with a flamethrower. He set Lil Thorny on fire, cooking him alive.

"Oh fuck…" Roman mumbled, witnessing the utter incineration. He began running towards the front of Bullseye. His eyes widened as he saw all the dead bodies—poor bystanders and civilians unlucky enough to be caught in the shootout. He left Bullseye, not wanting to deal with this shit anymore. He ran towards the stairwell, going through the third floor exit. As he escaped, X-Large was running through Bullseye, looking for Wes. He stopped short, hiding behind a wall, when he saw seven men charge through: and they were not of Wes' crew. Rather, they were SWAT. He'd been so focused on trying to kill as many opps he could he hadn't heard the helicopter over Glacy's. They smashed through the skylight—as many as twenty to thirty of them, all armed to the teeth with high tech weaponry meant to nullify and neutralize abilities and disable firearms. X-Large darted away from them, running out of Bullseye. He spotted Zanny hiding behind a destroyed storefront.

"We gotta dip nigga!" He shouted, dashing down the stairs. Zanny groaned and ran, still in a world of pain. He left through the side exit, stumbling down the staircase. Big Smoke was already outside, standing in the cold. The SWAT team caught a couple of Wes' men, forcing them to their knees and handcuffing them. But they were met with an unfortunate end. Vi-Vo was unconcerned with civilian causalities and let out another explosive ball of electricity, telegraphing his move by causing the lights to flicker. The Zap Cannon hit SWAT and the men being apprehended, blowing them to bits while electrifying everything else. In response, Vi-Vo was shot in the head by a SWAT sniper. Claw witnessed this and made a break for it, heading through the back exit of Bullseye and through the staircase, leading to the underground parking lot of Glacy's. No Snitching was there, putting down one of Wes' men by shooting him in the back of the head.

"Nigga we gotta go!" Claw shouted. No Snitching sighed and holstered his gun. He began running—superspeed, surpassing Claw. In a few minutes, they managed to get outside, heading into streets. It was nighttime and X was packing his shit into one the non-damaged vans. This whole confrontation was a disaster. Not only were they outnumbered, but they were outgunned. Most of his boys were either now being arrested by SWAT or been mowed down by Wes. Claw, No Snitching, Zanny and Big Smoke were left, as Roman had taken off on his own somewhere and the rest were either dead or arrested. As he got into the driver's seat, he saw about twenty of Wes' men retreat from Glacy's, narrowly avoiding the SWAT team and get into their jeeps and Audis. X-Large took off, speeding carelessly down slippery roads. As he drove, No Snitching kicked open the back doors of the van and began firing at the cars in pursuit. He managed to catch one Audi in the wheel and it swerved off the road, but psychically shut the doors when they began firing back. The sound of helicopters circling the area made all of them anxious.

"Take the wheel," X-Large told Claw, heading into the back. No Snitching telekinetically swung the doors open for him. X-Large clenched his fists together and then moved them to the left in unison. The ground trembled and asphalt cracked. A sharp pillar of rock emerged from underneath and sent a jeep into the air. He then tried again—another Stone Edge—but it missed ever so slightly. He growled and tried one more time, cracking the asphalt in two and manipulating the earth underneath it. More pillars of earth and gravel busted through the roads, unfortunately, sending civilian cars careening off the street. One of them flipped over onto an Audi, smashing it and killing everyone inside. As they advanced deeper into the local roads, they noted that there was a protest in the distance. The crowd was way too dense to even attempt to ram through—so X-Large hit the brakes. The van came to a sudden, violent halt while the Audis and jeeps zoomed past them, running people over and plowing through the screaming crowd.

"'Oly mudda of Arceus," No Snitching gasped, staring at what had just transpired.

The crowd erupted into a frenzy. The peaceful protest had immediately become violent and riot cops began responding. People jumped out the way as one of the Audis did a reckless, haphazard U-turn, ready to ram into the opposing van head on. But at the moment of truth, a black camry rammed into its side, pinning it against an empty, parked car. The two men in the Audi blew out the windshield with a shotgun and crawled out, bleeding heavily from their heads. X-Large leaned out the window, shooting one in the head and another in the throat. With that, his pistol was now empty. He opened the door, instructing everyone to get out. The door to the camry opened and Strika stumbled out, slightly disoriented but no worse for the wear.

"…STRIKA?" Big Smoke shouted, narrowing his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly.

"Ay who dis?" No Snitching asked.

X-Large stared at him. He looked…different, but it was definitely him. The world around them devolved into chaos as rubber bullets, standard rounds and tear gas flew all around them. Strika groaned, seeing people getting out their phones to record the horror show. Helicopters were now above them, shining down spotlights. They couldn't linger here and so they began running into the screaming, pulsating crowd. X-Large sped off, zipping through the crowd at his top speed now. He looked around for Wes and any of his men in the sea of bodies that were clashing against riot police. He heard gunshots and the whizzing of bullets through the air. A Molotov hit a cop car and the cops responded by firing back at the man who threw it. News choppers were also hovering above the crowd as reporters were attempting to catch this story. X-Large growled in frustration and stomped his feet repeatedly on the ground, creating an earthquake. People screamed as the ground began to crack and split open. He raced off spotting one of Wes' men. He punched him in the back of the head, his fist going straight through. He grabbed his gun, not caring that blood soaked his entire right hand. He reloaded and began shooting at both Wes' men and riot cops that were brutalizing the crowd. He was shot in the head by a rubber bullet. He lost his footing as the cops ran towards him, beating him repeatedly with nightsticks. X-Large howled in pain and grabbed one of the nightsticks before it can come down on his neck. He tore it from the cop's hand and struck him across the face, shattering the visor and splitting the helmet in half. He began fighting seven men trying to dogpile him. Strika zipped through the crowd and saw Wes screaming at people to get the fuck out his way. He aimed for Zanny who was struggling with one his own men.

"Zanny!" Strika warned.

Zanny tossed the man, despite his injuries. Wes fired and got his own guy instead of Zanny. He blasted a hole into his subordinate and he collapsed, bleeding all over the pavement. Wes cocked his shotgun again but Strika seized Zanny, zipping away from his line of sight. He stopped at an alleyway with a dumpster.

"Nigga yo hurt, hide in there."

"Bruh! I ain't no fuckin' pussy!" Zanny shouted, tears falling down his face, "Let go of me nigga!"

"You IS HURT," Strika shouted, "HIDE."

Zanny sighed and wept silently as he crawled into the dumpster and hid. Strika rushed back into the fray, looking for Wes. The cops began whipping out the riot control weapons. Stores, cars and even shrubbery were on fire now, making it look like an apocalyptic hellscape. Fuck no. Strika's eyes glowed blue as he let out a bolt of lightning through the air. The sound of cracking electricity and the boom of thunder startled the more skittish cops. The lightning went through the cop who was trying to break out the master ball cannon. He yelped and dropped the cannon and fell over, stiffened and paralyzed. He continued looking for Wes, zipping through the crowd, expertly avoiding rubber bullets and beanbag rounds. He spotted No Snitching with a bag over his head and handcuffed, being thrown in the back of an armored van. Without sight, psychic abilities were useless. Strika did a quick about-face and ran, still searching. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! He shielded his eyes from the spotlight of a news helicopter and kept sprinting, skidding to a static-laden halt when he saw Uniqua at the riots. She was getting a beating by police and taking it like a champ. Nines was with her, shooting a stream of fire to drive off the cops. One of the cops shot Uniqua in the stomach with a standard round. She cried out and fell over, spitting up blood. But as she suffered, so did the cop. Suddenly, a wound materialized in the cop's stomach and he fell over. He coughed up blood as he hollered in pain. Uniqua's ability made him suffer as she was. He cried out in pain as the wound gradually got worse. Uniqua gave him a bloodied grin. She would survive this injury…he would not. Before another cop could attack, Strika grabbed him and threw him into a nearby car. He went headfirst into the windshield.

"S-Strika…" Uniqua grunted as Nines helped her up, "Y-you here…"

"Yeah," he said, picking a potion off the dying cop and tossing it to her, "I'ma be back." He zipped off pushing through the crowd. He saw Claw beat the shit out of one of Wes' men, bashing his skull open with great swings. When he was done, the man was a quivering pulp of bones and blood, collapsing onto the asphalt. A tear gas canister flew into the crowd and spun around. People ran for cover, shielding their faces as they did. Claw, who always had his face covered, simply kicked the canister back. The force of kick sent the canister into the skull of a riot cop, killing him. Strika looked around, shouting in frustration as he could not find Wes. The whole world was witnessing this outpouring of violence. He looked over his shoulder and saw Mayor Braham being rushed away by his personal guard, into an armored limo. A brick flew through the air thrown by Andre, standing on an upturned armored van. He shouted for people to hold the line as the world burned.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Strika muttered, zipping off again, trying to find Wes.

X-Large emerged from the tear gas smoke, covered in blood and coughing. He began dancing—a frenetic, jerking dance.

"Ay!" A riot cop shouted, "Do not let these motherfuckers start dancing! Those are usually stat boosting moves!"

X-Large managed to finish before a rubber bullet could get him. He lifted up a lone oak tree on the side walk and swung it against the cops, smashing their van in the process. He began running, sprinting as he did, moving so fast they couldn't pin him down. People were video recording, going live on social media, screaming about how crazy this shit was. X-Large reached his van, which was now turned over and partially destroyed. He saw Big Smoke behind it, struggling to keep it together.

"On yo feet nigga," X-Large barked.

Big Smoke nodded, and got up, limping a bit, but otherwise fine. X-Large picked up the van and tossed it into the crowd, blocking the cops from advancing. One of Wes' men ambushed them, firing. X-Large pulled Big Smoke out the way and dodged the bullets. His attack boost was starting to wear off now. He doubled back, snatching the gun from the opposition and shot him repeatedly. He was now swiss cheese, stumbling back into the road, full view of screaming teenagers. One of them was going live, showing X-Large in the background, soaked in other people's blood and shooting opps.

"SUCK MY DICK FUCK NIGGA!" He shouted as he mowed down other shooters. Eventually, he was hit with a fire hose that one of Wes' men commandeered, stealing it from the riot cops. He cried out in pain as the water soaked him. The pressure weakened him and he fell to his knees, coughing up blood. Big Smoke intervened, punching the man in the face and turned off the hose. He went over to X, helped him up and dragged him from the fray. He set him behind an abandoned car. X-Large sighed and shook his head.

"Go on nigga," he grumbled, feeling ill.

Big Smoke took off his coat and placed it over X, in an attempt to keep him dry and then went off. X-Large was panting and trembling. Eventually, he fainted.

Jazmin brushed her teeth and washed her face, getting ready for bed. Festival was in her room, drawing on the sketchpad. She stretched and checked her phone, her eyebrows raised when she saw #LadosChaos trending. She scrolled through her notification, seeing a text from Uniqua. This was surprising. Uniqua never texted her and they weren't particularly close. She opened the notification, reading it.

Uniqua: Strika is in Los Lados

He's at the riots

Downtown

Jazmin's eyes widened as she dropped her phone. She zipped to the living room, turning on the television, immediately going to the news channel.

"A peaceful protest suddenly turning violent as outside agitators plow through the crowd, killing five, injuring fifteen," a reporter on the field said, "Sources say this is gang related violence as the outside agitators—" the reporter ducked as a brick flew by, "—Are well armed."

"The scene is something out of hell," another reporter said, "Shootouts, clashes with the police and bloody interactions."

Jazmin went back in her room, picking up her phone, frantically scrolling through the Gram, following the hashtag #LadosChaos.

"Is everything okay?" Festival asked.

"N-no," Jazmin gasped, feeling tears fall down her face. She clicked on a video. It was someone's livestream, showing X-Large, covered in blood, firing at opps. She scrubbed through the video and saw Strika in the background, he was looking around for someone. She gasped, her ears fully erect.

"Jazmin?" Festival asked, "…You're crying? What's the matter?"

"S-Strika…he's alive…and he okay…and he here…" she stammered. She ran to Lakeda's room, banging on the door. She groaned, getting up to open it.

"I'm tryna get ready for work—"

"Strika! He's here! Downtown! Look! Look! Look!" She shoved her phone in Lakeda's face. She watched the video and her eyes became as wide as the heavens. There was knocking at the door and Lakeda took off her fur boots. She opened her drawer, pulling out a shoebox. She opened it and took the shoes out: frictionless sneakers. She darted over to the door and opened it. Mateo was standing there.

"Hey, ready—"

"MY SON IS OUT THERE IN THAT WILD BULLSHIT!" Lakeda screamed, "AND I'MA GET HIS ASS BACK!"

Mateo looked stunned, "Uh—"

She grabbed him and zipped out of the doorway and down the stairs and outside in less than five seconds. As she did, Jazmin began changing out of her nightclothes. Festival stared at her.

"You stay here," Jazmin told her, putting on her sneakers.

"Jazmin…what are you gonna do?"

She took off her headscarf and tied her hair back. She grabbed her coat and keys and headed out the front door, gone in a flash. Festival stared, blinking rapidly as she walked over to the living room to watch the news. Jasper, who was in Strika's room, overheard that exchange. He took a drag of his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. He kicked off his loafers and put on his sneakers. He cracked his neck from side to side and opened the window that overlooked the streets. He jumped out, running down the side of the building and sped off into the night. Festival watched the news, her eyes wide. All she could see was violence, fire and madness occurring.

"This is one of the most violent and bloody riots since the shooting of Thanes Phosan," the reporter said. Festival watched as mons danced in front of burning buildings, boosting their power in the process. She sighed, afraid.

Jazmin had texted Talon on her way and he was already out the door, taking to the skies. As she ran, she saw him soaring over her, damn near keeping up with her with his incredible speed. She reached downtown in about ten minutes, with Talon reaching there in about twelve. But he didn't land, he was continuing to soar and circle around the epicenter of the riot. Other flying types were in the air too, doing the same thing he was doing. Suddenly, a riot cop launched gravity shot. He stuck two flying types sending them hurling from the sky onto the ground. It also hit Talon and suddenly he dropped out the air.

"TALON!" She raced towards him but someone had jumped to catch him. They grabbed him in mid fall and landed elegantly on their feet. Jazmin zipped over to them, relieved with tears in her eyes. Mr. Ace, their gym teacher, had caught him. He was wearing a thick hoodie, soccer shorts, leggings and cleats. He was of the Cinderace line.

"….Mr. Ace?" Jazmin asked, wiping her eyes.

"Hi Jazmin, hi Terise," he said, setting Talon down and removing the gravity shot.

"Whatchu doin' out here?" Talon grunted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Protesting," he said, "All the teachers are out here protesting, actually. Someone has to look after the students."

Jazmin blinked, still shocked, "Oh…well, shit!"

"Alright," Mr. Ace said cheerfully, "You should take cover." He began doing toe taps with a pebble, as if he was playing soccer. Soon, the pebble overheated, turning into a fireball which he kicked towards advancing cops that were about to throw master balls at fellow rioters. The fireball exploded, sending them reeling. Jazmin flinched and nodded, seeing what Mr. Ace meant. She grabbed Talon's hand and ran off with him, ducking and dodging flying bricks, bottles and even textbooks. She saw Ms. Mega hovering over the fray, instructing teenagers to retreat to the left. She saw the two Ms. Floras offering medical attention to hurt mons and humans. As she looked around, Lakeda, who reached downtown in only three minutes, was bolting through the crowd with Mateo in tow. When she saw one of Wes' gunmen shoot at someone she recognized—Big Smoke—she ran into them, snatching the gun out their hand and tossing it aside.

"What the fu—"the gunman muttered, realizing his gun had disappeared. Lakeda's eyes began to turn gold and she let out a bolt of electricity out of her body and into his. The gunman fell over, stunned and briefly paralyzed. He felt the pain radiate behind his ears and all the way down to his tailbone. He pissed himself in the process as he foamed at the mouth. Lakeda zipped off, moving so fast it was hard to track her movement. A cop with a radar gun didn't even bother. The radar cracked, unable to calculate how fast she was moving. She was now running against the walls of buildings, looking for Strika. She moved so fast that anything her path spun out of control due to the force of her speed. She didn't find Strika, but she saw X-Large lying unconscious behind an abandoned car. She jumped off the side of the building, twirling as she did, avoiding rubber bullets flying in her direction. She landed on her feet and skirted up to X-Large, helping him up. He slowly came to.

"Lay…" he grumbled.

"Hold on," she reassured. Mateo came up to them, moving quite fast himself. He helped X-Large, as well, knowing Lakeda wasn't strong enough to carry him alone. He whipped up a shimmering force field. Safeguard, Lakeda recognized. This shimmery force field would protect them from the tear gas or more lethal vapors, like mustard gas. They helped him away from the fray, bringing him to a local mom & pops store and setting him down there.

"Watch him," Lakeda told Mateo as she sped off now, looking for Strika. She effortlessly dodged rubber bullets as she sped through the rapidly de-crowding streets. She somersaulted over a master ball that was launched at her and landed perfectly on her feet. She zigzagged through the streets and doubled back seeing one of Wes' men fight Claw. Claw got the upper hand and punched through his head and then grabbed his gun and shot him in the foot. The Pinsir man then threw him into a car, killing him. A stray beanbag round caught her when she wasn't looking and she tripped, stumbling painfully onto the ground.

"Arrrgh!" She cried out. She skinned her knee through her jeans, bleeding now. She unsteadily got to her feet, looking over her shoulder at a riot cop reloading and ready to fire again. But before he could shoot he was electrocuted. He collapsed, unconscious, thanks to Jasper. Lakeda smiled weakly as her brother darted up to her, helping her to her feet. She hugged him. He was stunned for a brief second but then hugged her back.

"Ay, let's do this," he whispered. She nodded and let go. Their eyes began to glow, burning like golden fire. Lakeda lifted her hands in the air while Jasper spread his arms out. Suddenly, the streetlights and any electronics in the immediate area shut off, darkness flooding the streets. Lakeda gathered up the electric energy and shot an enormous bolt of lightning into the air. Jasper followed suit, shooting the opposite direction. The lightning caused an ionic shower that disabled automatic, electronic weapons while doing nothing to electric types or their moves. Master balls were rendered useless and started to open up, releasing captured mons. The riot police started to scream out, realizing their radar and their equipment were currently malfunctioning. They reinforced their line, sticking with conventional weapons now. Strika, who'd been looking for Wes, looked up, seeing the lightning and the sudden power outage.

Mom