Clutch 3.2

The man's foot crashed through the display window with enough force it shattered on impact. The shards of glass didn't even get the chance to stop skittering on the pavement before the men were crawling through the hole, kicking display mannequins aside in the process.

A colorful variety of swears, including "Fuck yeah!", "Get that shit!" and numerous variations thereof were uttered as the men trampled displays showing off trendy-looking women's coats and purses.

Five men. Five dirty men wearing the stained worn, hand-me-down clothing that marked them as if not inhabitants of Tent City then undoubtedly as fellow homeless.

We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a few short seconds. We were paralyzed, stunned by the reality of what was happening in front of us. The sheer suddenness of it. There wasn't a sound in the van… save for the tapping of my fingers.

Ta-Tap-Ta-Tap-Ta-Tap-Ta-Tap.

"….Well," I finally said. "…This is certainly happening."

'Ta-Tap!' My fingers punctuated the statement.

"…What are we gonna do, Teacher?" Jacket said, looking at me with concern in his eyes.

'What are we gonna do?' This… wasn't really my problem, was it?

On one hand, sure, fighting some would-be robbers would be some good PR if I got serious about being a hero. On the other hand: I'd be fighting some would-be robbers. Not humiliating a fat idiot from a distance or putting a quick and dirty mind whammy on someone I'd taken by surprise. I'd be running directly into a fistfight with a bunch of thugs already breaking the law.

For capes, walking away from a fight was easier when you retreated before the fight even started. In other words, getting beaten up and then managing to escape would be a bigger blow to my "street cred" than just driving away without anyone knowing I was here. Not that I was concerned about having a reputation at this stage, but remaining in good standing with my hench… Students was important. I was hoping to keep these people around after tonight after all.

"Lieutenant," I finally said. "What do you sense from these men?"

"I… I haven't tried to use the power from this range before. Are you sure?"

"Please try. I don't believe range shouldn't be a problem for you."

With a final glance at me, Callum faced towards the store. Only two of the men were still visible from outside, the other three having disappeared deeper inside. The sounds could still be heard from up the street as the men rummaged through overpriced, trendy outfits and accessories. One man ripped open the blouse of one mannequin and pantomimed a rather… obscene act on the "woman", to the jeers and wicked cackles of his friends.

'Seriously? Are these guys trying out for the Merchants or something?'

"I sense… pain. And anger." He scrunched his eyes shut, his face a mask of concentration. "Desperation. Frustration, finally finding an outlet. Release through violence… Against the patrons of this shop. People wealthy enough to afford the clothes."

Class envy and resentment. Haves versus that have-nots. Pushed to the breaking point, human beings often fell back into instinctive behaviors: violence and tribalism. Standard stuff for desperate times.

'All fairly surface level information but intriguing, nonetheless.'

"Anything else?" I asked. "Any powers? Gang affiliations?"

It wouldn't do to get drawn into a fight with a larger group. I wasn't going to be getting involved but if there was someone else starting to organize the refugees, I wanted to know about it. I was planning on leaving this town soon, I didn't want to risk doing something that unknowingly made a rival that might attempt to follow me elsewhere to exact revenge.

Cal opened his eyes, leaning forward in his seat. I blinked. His pupils had shrunk to pinpricks, his eyes darting around in their sockets as he took in every single detail about the men in an instant.

"… Homeless. Jobless. Penniless…And… A-and…. Nothing." Cal finally sighed. His voice regained its normal tone as he leaned back in his seat, looking slightly exhausted.

"Nothing. Nothing in their appearance suggests gang affiliation. After reexamination of data from my own recollection, their body language and posture prior to breaking into the building was guarded even around each other, and their group cohesion is almost nonexistent."

"All of this suggests this is their first time doing something like this together. From what I saw of them they're evenly uneasy with each other, no one's particularly afraid of just one member of the group. Nothing to suggest a greater gang at work or a powered ringleader."

'Nothing from what you could see,' I mentally corrected. 'Big difference.'

Cal rubbed his temples. "That was…" He sighed. "Intense. Never pushed the power that hard before. The information was just flowing… and then all of a sudden it was like I was pushing against a brick wall."

"Don't push too hard," I warned. "Overexert your power and you'll get a thinker headache."

I sighed at the blank looks I received. "Your power will backfire and become unusable for a while, like an athlete straining and pulling a muscle."

"Oooh… Okay."

I wasn't surprised he was already at his limits. Callum's power was superficially similar to Tattletale's… and yet it was still only as useful as any of my "basic level" powers could be.

Uncanny Intuition. It could extrapolate guesses of incredible accuracy as to a person's nature and motivation from surface-level information in a remarkably short amount of time. The drawback was in exchange for speed and ease of use, the power couldn't penetrate much deeper than the surface. And any attempt to dig deeper than intentions and vague assumptions drastically increased the chances of widely inaccurate returns.

'Woah!' I blinked at the rush of foreign information. That was… that was good to know.

"So what do we do, Teach?" the college kid in the jacket asked. "If we're casting votes, I say we he-"

"-We're not voting on this," I cut him off. "This isn't a democracy. We'll go with what course of action I decide to take."

"But-!" My head whipped around to give him a power-boosted Look. His jaw clamped shut, power flaring.

'As much as I like you Cal, I can't allow weakness. If I allow this group to be run by committee, I risk the possibility of being outvoted and losing my undisputed position as leader. Please understand.'

His eyes widened marginally, and he seemed to understand even without me saying anything. He nodded. "…Right. My apologies, Teacher."

Nodding appreciatively, turned back to the scene.

'…Should we help?'

I looked around the street, thinking. These guys weren't exactly being subtle. Their hollering and the sounds of destruction from their rampage could be heard from all the way from here at the end of the street. There was an apartment building within sight. I was honestly surprised someone else hadn't heard the commotion yet and come to investigate.

Even still, it wasn't as if these guys were going to get very far with whatever they stole. Even over a week after Leviathan, Sydney still was lousy with parahumans right now. And a bunch of designer women's clothing and handbags weren't exactly things you could fence or openly tout around a town where the poverty and homeless levels had skyrocketed overnight.

Even if they just trashed the place for catharsis and left empty-handed, there was nothing stopping me from just calling the cops on these guys and leaving it at that.

…So. All in all?

I shrugged. 'As long as no one is getting hurt, there's just no reason for me to risk myself.'

"I've decided. We'll just-"

Hoodie, my precog, drew in a sharp hiss of breath, bringing me up short. "There's someone else in there!"

And on cue, a woman's scream cut through the night.

….

….

'…Well of course there is.'

The clamor of voices that rose up at the revelation was appreciated. It quite nicely covered up the hiss of air I let out as I died a little inside.

'Why would there even be a-?'

"Late shift clerk," Callum reported without prompting. "Stayed late to either screw around or took her time locking up."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," I smiled cheerfully, almost missing the way Callum subtly recoiled in his seat as he looked at me. "This certainly changes things."

I snapped my fingers, and instantly everyone in the van stopped talking. "Scout?"

Stained Shirt Girl sat up a little straighter in her very back of the van at the sound of her tentative "cape name".

"Be a dear and investigate, won't you?"

She blinked owlishly before slowly replying. "…Of course, Teacher."

Like Callum before her, the girl's eyes locked onto the distant shop with a frightening intensity. Her previously dreamy expression was replaced with one of intense concentration as she reached out her arm and pointed in the direction of the building.

'Field deployed,' She reported in time with the flaring of her power mote.

"…Five men. Moving around inside." She blinked. "Wait. Movement. Separate from the others. Female, approximately five-foot-two."

"What are they doing to her?!" Callum hissed, as another crash and round of screaming reached our ears.

"Checking…" Scout squinted. "She's not with them. She's… huddled up somewhere? I can't see, she's not moving too much."

We all felt a collective chill at the implications of that statement.

"One of the others -male five-foot-ten, marginally overweight- is closest to her. He's banging on something. It's… I can only see it when it's moving."

There was another loud bang.

"Oh!" She blinked, tone becoming vaguely excited like a child who'd just solved a puzzle. "A door! She's behind a door!"

Then she looked at me and in the blink of an eye her expression changed again. "…They're trying to break it down." Her expression was briefly vaguely distressed before she rubbed her eyes. When she lowered her hands again that concern was long gone, slipping once again into dreaminess.

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief to know the civilian inside wasn't dead or worse. She was safe… for now.

"Maybe they're just trying to scare her..?" the teen in the sweater suggested lamely.

"...Trust me," Callum's face darkened after a moment of concentration. "They're not.

…Splendid.

"What about you, X-Ray?" I asked, turning to the next cape in the car. "See any guns or knives? Anything that might give us trouble?"

The bandana man turned to look at me, puzzled. "Who, me? 'That supposed to be my cape name or something?"

"Don't like it? Think up a new one when a crime isn't in progress."

He rolled his eyes a moment before he turned to look out the window, squinting. A moment later, he shook his head. "Can't. They're too far out for me to see anything."

I sighed. Well, at least I was learning the limitations of each power as I went.

The Biker only shrugged his shoulders. Despite looking like he was nearing the end of middle age, he was surprisingly still relatively fit with those muscles of his. A bit like a buff Wilford Brimley.

"Your call, Teacher." His answer at face value seemed to indicate he was indifferent, but the rather... intense way he was looking at me indicated differently. He clearly wanted to hear my decision. What exactly he wanted me to say, however, I had no idea.

Cal was staring at me, too. I swallowed. I knew him well enough to know what he wanted me to do. 'Save the girl,' obviously. Time seemed to slow down as I stared at the storefront.

...I could still do it. Run, I mean.

Cal would probably go along with it, but as hero obsessed as he was he'd probably never look at me the same way again. My power would… probably keep him in line. If not, I could always release him and get a new second in command.

I liked him, but I wasn't so far along in the formation of my organization that I really needed him. No one was truly irreplaceable. I'd learned that lesson firsthand a few years ago.

…But wasn't that what I was trying to avoid? The whole point of having Cal here was to avoid going mad with power. To prevent the old... habits and emotional torpor that tanked my former life from cropping up in this one? To avoid going mad with power and letting myself turn into Benjamin Terrell 1.0, 2.0?

Am I seriously about to let an innocent human being

die to avoid a hassle?

'But if you're going to save this world, you're gonna have to let a whole lot more people die than just one,' my Inner Critic chimed in. 'And you're probably going to have to put a ton of them in the ground yourself.'

Another scream echoed down the street, followed by a round of sickening laughter.

…Screw this.

"We're going in there." I decreed. I ignored Cal's relieved smile and continued. "But first…"

I leaned over the seat so that my hands were in the middle of the van, reachable by everyone.

"…Grab on. I'm switching out your powers."

"You… You can do that?" Bandana Man gaped, the rest of the car looking similarly surprised.

"Quite easily." I smiled. "Most of you have powers unsuited to fighting. I'm swapping you out for something more… effective."

The sweater-wearing teen shifted awkwardly in his seat. "H-hey, I didn't sign up for a fight."

I turned my gaze squarely upon him, taking some small satisfaction in how he shrank back from my palpable displeasure. "Oh? And what, pray tell, did you expect when you were offered the opportunity to work for me?"

I was honestly curious… in addition to being honestly annoyed. I hadn't gone over the details of the sales pitch with Callum before sending him out to gather my "Army of Darkness™".

For both my and his sakes, I hoped Cal hadn't gone and made a promise on my behalf he couldn't keep.

"Don't get me wrong, when we didn't have any money and I heard the offer, I was willing to do anything. I wouldn't have liked it, but I was desperate. But now?" Sweater Kid waved his stack of cash. "After the night we had? I guess I just got my hopes up that I wouldn't have to get my hands dirty I guess."

"Are you serious, Dave?" Hoodie scoffed, before Jacket shushed him from the driver's seat. "You're doing this now? You're gonna screw up our chance to be capes now? Even when some girl is in danger?"

"Both of you! No names!" Jacket hissed.

"Enough!" I hissed. Immediately, all three jaws clamped shut. I pinched the bridge of my nose. "…Very well. If you choose not to fight, fine. But you will allow me to switch your power to combat-oriented regardless. You will not be allowed to be dead weight when everyone else is giving their all."

As ordered, everyone grabbed hold of my hands. The driver put a hand on my side.

"Me too, Teacher?" the Biker asked, even though his arm was already extended to receive a boost.

"Not you 'Tag, your power is fine for a fight," I shook my head then turned to our driver. "And if this goes bad, I need you behind the steering wheel so we can haul ass out of here."

"What about our faces?"

"Don't worry, we came prepared, remember?" I opened the car's glove compartment. A bunch of dollar-store respirator masks spilled out. I'd bought them before we went to the casino just in case things went really south. If we ended up needing to speed away, I'd hoped it would minimize the possibility of being ID-ed by a stranger. I never thought we'd be doing… this.

I took another look at Scout, aka Stained Shirt Girl. She'd been pretty spaced out until now, but at the prospect of more power, a light had come on in her eyes. Not… awareness, per se. At least, not the sort I wanted to see. Something more primal.

Hunger.

"… You're good too, Scout. Keep us posted on how the girl is doing."

She nodded and drew her hand back, albeit with some obvious hesitation.

"…She's still fine. The door is bending in more every time they hit it. I-" Another distant scream. "… I don't think she has much longer."

"Well then," I tried to force a confident smile… only to realize I already was smiling. And actually meant it. "Let's not keep the lady waiting."

And then, The Library.

'This is what we're going to do…'

My instructions were brief but to the point. The new precogs of our group indicated a high chance of success, so as long as everyone did their job, we'd be fine.

The van rapidly accelerated as our driver stepped on the gas and sped down the street. Tires screeched as we barreled towards the store… right before our driver pulled on the brakes and twisted the wheel. The brakes screeched as we drifted along the road, my neck almost snapping as we were violently jerked sideways.

'Wildbow, you sadist. I swear to God if this car tips over and kills me here my ghost will-!'

Thankfully I didn't need to finish that death threat, as things for once went totally according to plan. With pinpoint accuracy, my thinker chauffeur maneuvered the rental van so that the front of the van was directly facing the shattered store window as it completed its abrupt turn.

"Lights!" I shouted.

On cue the driver hit the high beams, illuminating the inside of the store. Three dirty, ugly men were caught directly in the light. With all of them facing towards the front of the store in response to the screeching brakes, they were caught off guard and were temporarily blinded. As they drew back and covered their eyes, I didn't waste a minute before I pulled the door of the van open.

"Hit them fast, hit them hard!"

Immediately, Cal and seven others were barreling out the door and into the store. They charged as one mass through the window as the driver shut the lights off once more, plunging the interior into near-darkness before the thugs' eyes could re-adjust.

That didn't matter to my men, seeing as two men in the lead had Night-Vision. Two of the thieves were standing out in the open and were almost immediately set upon before they even knew what was going on. The third saw and heard something of the struggle through the spots in his vision, enough to make him scramble further back into the store, miraculously managing to avoid tripping over anything as he blindly ran.

"We've got company!" he shouted, and immediately the sounds of sickening laughter and banging radiating out from the back rooms stopped short.

"Chances of bodily harm or death if I go in there?" I asked as I stepped out of the van. "Me specifically and also the group generally."

"In the next two minutes? Zero-Zero." The fat woman replied as she casually inspected her nails.

"And beyond that?" My gaze flicked to the other precognitive occupying a seat in the car.

"Concentrating," Dave said as he closed his eyes, tone now totally monotone. "Need to focus."

Whatever nervousness he had before, he lacked now. He wasn't confident, confused, or scared either. Now, he was nothing. I dismissed this observation as unimportant for the moment.

"Keep me posted," I called as I entered the store.

The place was a wreck. In the few short minutes the five vandals had been inside, the place had been thoroughly trashed. Shelves had been torn from the walls, and half the lights in the ceiling had been smashed. Purses and other accessories lay in torn heaps where it looked like their displays had been knocked over and shredded. Broken mannequins littered the floor, looking almost like dismembered bodies in the dim light.

A gruesome image, especially considering the context. My throat tightened as I stepped through the window, broken glass crunching beneath my soles. Cal led the other Students in securing the two captured men's hands and feet with purse straps. They offered only feeble resistance, mostly low grunts and limp wriggling.

"Nuuuh… Nuuuuh…" One of the men moaned before the eyes rolled back in his head and was finally still. Merely unconscious, of course.

All the while the Biker watched on, his job done.

The few remaining lights mixed with the dim lighting from out on the street to illuminate the third robber standing behind a counter at the back of the store, locked in a standoff with Monopoly and Hoodie.

"Who the hell are you!?" the man shouted. "Fuck off!"

The display he was taking cover behind was filled with cutesy, but certainly hard ceramic and porcelain statues of fairies and small woodland creatures. As fast as he could, he was reaching into the display and chucking them almost mindlessly in the direction of the men steadily advancing on him.

Not that that seemed to bother either of them. Monopoly was holding his own as he led the duo down the narrow aisle. In both hands he clutched a mannequin's severed arm of all things like some sort of longsword. Every time a knick-knack actually came close to hitting them, his arms would seemingly automatically move his improvised weapon into a blocking position.

Cool as it was, the motions were… slightly uncanny to watch. The motions of his arms were too smooth, too mechanical to be mistaken for a natural talent. I didn't need to be able to sense my "gifts" at work to know his hands were being controlled by an unseen force, almost independent from his brain.

Behind "cover" Hoodie wasn't standing idle either. Even as yet another statue shattered against Monopoly's "weapon", Hoodie was snatching every other chunk out of the air as they whizzed past him. The instant they were in his hands he returned fire, misshapen chunks of deer, birds and fairy cottages impacting the back wall with the intensity of blows thrown by a baseball pitcher, missing their target by inches.

"What the fuck are you?!" the man shouted again. "Stay away!"

Ducking down behind the counter, he reemerged a moment later holding an office chair he immediately threw.

Monopoly's reaction was so fast I almost missed it. One heartbeat, the chair was thrown and Monopoly dropped the arm. Two heartbeats, his arms came up as the chair soared through the air. Three heartbeats, the chair was snatched right out of the air.

It would have been perfect… but not quite. Monopoly's grip was awkward, and his stance wasn't properly braced to handle the force of the object sailing towards him. He managed to catch it, but he let out a hiss of pain as he staggered back, one hand twisting oddly where he'd grabbed hold between the chair's base and an armrest.

Hoodie sprang into action a moment later. Reacting with such speed I would have sworn they'd both rehearsed it, while Monopoly was reaching up to grab the chair, Hoodie bent down to the floor. And as Monopoly staggered and knelt down with the chair a moment later, his counterpart was rising back up behind him, arm lashing out.

"Fuck yooooararggh-!" the man behind the counter wailed as a piece of jagged-edged porcelain the size of an apple hit him square in the right eye. The man clutched his face and moaned, ignorant of the rest of my Students as they moved to secure him.

Without warning, Monopoly suddenly rose to his feet like a puppet abruptly pulled upright on its strings. With both hands he slammed the rolling chair down on the ground and kicked it across the floor-

-Just in time to catch the fourth thief as he came running out of the backrooms. Between the man's speed and the way the black metal chair crossed through a section of the room still covered in shadow juuust as he ran through it, the chair was probably invisible to him right up until the moment he tripped over it and face-planted into the floor with a crack!

The second the smooth maneuver was executed, Monopoly seemed to resume to be himself again, hissing in response to having seemingly-involuntarily using his injured hand. As Hoodie tended to his partner, I hummed appreciatively.

The effects of Pitcher's Hand paired with Improv Arsenal were nothing to sneeze at. Intuitive understanding of the environment and how to efficiently utilize the mundane objects contained within, meets enhanced accuracy and throwing technique. Melee, with some range to back it up.

Not a bad combo at all.

The fourth man had barely managed to pick himself up off the floor before he was swarmed with Students. Tackling, pummeling and kicking him to the ground.

…Perhaps our numbers were something of an unfair advantage, no? It sort of defeated the purpose of experimenting with my different powers but eh, I couldn't really complain.

"Ah, ah ah." I chided.

The head of every Student present silently swiveled around to face me. Simultaneously.

"…Be careful not to kill them, now." I swallowed. "That would be… inconvenient with the authorities."

I spared a glance to the subdued man and the one still behind the counter, no longer wailing but staring at me with his uncovered eye. "…But if they continue to struggle, I leave it to your discretion."

The two men paled, going slack before the Biker secured each one in turn.

'So, that's four. That just leaves us with-'

"Steel!" a voice wailed behind me. "Steeeel!"

I spun around, expecting a sixth assailant to end up coming through the window. What I saw instead I was totally unprepared for.

Dave was standing there, eyes bulging out of his skull as they rolled around in their sockets.

"Steel like fangs. Fangs of a snake!" he raved. "A snake is always a snake! A snake is a snake is a snake is a snake-!"

"What the hell is wrong with him?!" Hoodie asked aloud, gob smacked as the other man continued to lose it.

I glanced at my hands. Well. That certainly wasn't what I'd intended when I amped up his power. What I'd tried to do was boost his Limited Precognition from Immediate to Long Range without zombifying him, using a power from the Library that a few books down from a power that was advertised as allowing for "detailed visions".

Apparently "detailed" didn't mean accurate, or even partway coherent because he sounded downright out of his mind. I guess that was what happened when I tried to "cheat" my power's "rules".

I was about to head over and see what could be done for him, when the creaking of floorboards heralded the arrival of our last robber.

"Don't shoot!"

"Don't move!" Hoodie shouted back as the man came forward into the light.

He was one mean looking mother. The other guys didn't look so good already, but that could easily have been choked up to the fact they were dirty and homeless. But this guy? This guy looked like trouble.

He was big, wearing a coat that looked two sizes too large for him, which only made him look bigger. He had long, greasy black hair that was balding in front, and about half of his blocky face was obscured by a tattoo.

A tattoo of a snake.

My eyes narrowed slightly as the man continued speaking.

"I'm unarmed!" he said, as he took another step forward. "I surrender. Don't shoot."

"Then stop moving!" I shouted back at him. He stopped. I turned to Hoodie. "He moves again, 'shoot' him."

The man, who I decided to call Snakeface, might have assumed we had a gun with the force Hoodie's shots were impacting the wall. Or maybe he'd already assumed we might have a cape with us. Either way, no reason to correct him if whatever assumption he'd gotten in his head made him cooperate.

Hoodie nodded as I looked back to the man. "Keep your hands up. This is a citizen's arrest."

"Alright now, no need to get rough," he said as he followed my orders. "I'm unarmed."

"Scout!" I shouted outside.

"Yes?" came the reply.

"How's that girl doing?"

"She's alright. The door is still shut."

I turned back to the man, ignoring the confused look on his face. "You're damn lucky you didn't put your hands on that girl. Turn around."

"No problem. I was just trying to scare her, we only wanted the cash in the back office. I've got no weapons on me, anyway."

"…I got that," I muttered, my eyes narrowing. "Tag, tie him up for the police."

'I'm unarmed.' He'd repeated that line enough that it was actually starting to make me suspicious.

Dave was still behind me, muttering to himself about snakes and steel fangs. Snakes, huh? Well, he'd gotten one part right. So what the hell did he mean about "steel fangs"?

The Students meanwhile had finished securing the man behind the counter, while the Biker was approaching the last man with another set of leather straps taken from a purse.

'A snake is a snake.' Snakes were supposed to be untrustworthy, right? That was obvious, too. This guy was a thief, and was among the robbers tormenting the girl back there. So what about fangs?

Fangs were small, sharp, and hidden. A snake with steel fangs? That might mean-!

"You've got a knife on you."

Biker stopped in his tracks. Snakeface, kept his hands up but went very still. "… No, I don't."

"Yeah, I think you do," I shot back, and his lack of a reaction told me I was right. "Nobody touches him."

I motioned for Bandana Man to come to my side. "So, which was it? Were you planning on stabbing one of us then running out? Or were you gonna let us tie you up, then cut yourself loose and run once we were gone?"

Bandana came over and took my outstretched hand as the man kept talking. "Sir, I swear I don't know what you're talking about-!"

"I see it," Bandana said as I switched out the Martial Arts skill I'd given him for his earlier X-Ray Vision. "He's got one hidden in his coat… and another one up his sleeve-!"

Snakeface spun around and stepped back. A flash of steel glinted in his hands in the dim light. His arm drew back behind his head.

"Ben!" someone shouted.

"Dammit!" I cursed as I took a step back. "Everyone-!"

"-Ben, move!"

Snakeface flicked his wrist, and I saw a blur and a flash. Something hit me in the chest, hard. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground. My chest hurt, and my shoulder burned.

"-get back! Back!" Snakeface was shouting.

Did I..?

Did I just die? To some idiot throwing a knife? A knife!?

That was so… so lame!

My body felt heavy, but that was offset by the rage I was feeling. A burning in my chest as I struggled to right myself, fighting against the heaviness overtaking me.

Like hell I was going to die here, to some dirty, smelly hobo sonofabitch-!

"Ben!" A familiar voice shouted, practically right on top of me. The closeness of the voice gave me pause.

...No. Wait. The voice was literally right on top of me.

"Ben!" Cal was lying on my chest and was rather violently shaking me. "Ben?"

"I'm alright, Lieutenant," I groaned. "You can stop now."

And I discovered, to my amusement, it was possible for someone to both look relieved and embarrassed. "R-right."

He got off me, and I started to stand up. I reached up to rub my shoulder, only to hiss in pain the moment it touched it.

"Don't!" Cal said, distressed. "He almost got you."

I looked and saw a switchblade lying on the ground behind us. "…Ah."

It took a second, but quickly I started putting things together in my head. Snakeface tried to stab me, and Cal managed to tackle me out of the way.

I gave him a grateful look as I rose to my feet, taking a glance at his power as I did so. Thank God I'd given him the Enhanced Reflexes power.

"I said stay away!"

I looked back up, remembering the situation as a deep scowl came over my face. Snakeface had managed to get his other knife out in the confusion and was now keeping it held between himself and the five other Students still in the fight, each looking about ready to take his head off. The Students had already worked him into a corner, and his eyes met my glare for a moment, before darting around the room, desperately looking for a way out.

He'd find none.

"You're done," I growled. A horrible, burning anger gnawed at my gut as I stepped forward. "Done."

"W-wait!" Snakeface stammered. "L-lets work something out here. I can be reasonable."

'A snake is a snake,' I thought as I gestured to Hoodie.

"Let's not be hasty," the fast-talker kept on going. "I'm really sorry about you shoulder, but I just wanted you guys to back o-!"

The man's rambling pleas were cut short as a fat cat statue impacted the wall a few inches from his head with a bang. He cringed and staggered away at the sudden rush of air, waving the knife frantically like some warding charm.

It didn't matter, because a second later the Biker was on top of him. The big man moved far faster than his appearance suggested, seizing hold of the man's elbow with one hand and the shoulder the other.

Snakeface cringed and visibly tried to bring his knife arm up to stab the man… only to realize he couldn't.

To all appearances the grip Biker had on Snakeface's arm was light. Almost dainty, even. Biker's hand pinched the thug's arm at the joint of the elbow with his index finger and thumb. The other three fingers were splayed at different points on his tricep, pressing down lightly.

With how big a man Snakeface was, you'd think he'd break the flimsy hold easily. But no. Snakeface's arm was almost frozen still outstretched, knife falling from limp fingers at the hand spasmed.

"Wh-wuh… What?!" Snakeface stammered as he stared at his frozen arm, before his gaze almost comically travelled up it to stare into the death glare Biker was giving him. His face rapidly switched from confusion to a mask of horror as he realized just what he'd gotten himself into.

"You… You're a cape?"

"Got it in one." I smiled under my mask and nodded to the Biker. "Sweet dreams."

"Wait-!"

Whatever Snakeface wanted us to wait for we'd never know, because Biker merely took his other hand gripping his shoulder and pinched. Immediately Snakeface's entire body seized, his eyes rolling back in his head as he went stiff as a board as if he'd grabbed an electrical wire. Biker released the man's elbow and held his grip on his shoulder for another minute.

The second Snakeface was released he fell forward, and his face struck the ground with a sickening crack. He laid with blood pooling out from under him, stiff for another minute before he finally went limp, looking just like yet another of the mannequins he'd destroyed.

'Hipster store display mannequins, I have avenged you.'

I tried to laugh at my own shitty joke, but the sudden inhalation only brought back a familiar jolt of pain."

"Be-! I mean, Teacher!" Cal groaned. "Your ribs! I'm sorry, I saw him coming and I couldn't think of anything else to do so-!"

"It's fine, Lieutenant." I brushed his concern off with a casual wave. My first thought was that he needed to learn a bit about decorum in a gang. My second thought was that perhaps I was being a bit too judgmental. He'd saved me, after all.

"Your quick thinking saved my life. You have nothing but my gratitude. I'll gladly bear any amount of pain in order to continue our mission."

Cal practically glowed at my praise, the mote of power in his brain dancing merrily like a firework. "T-thank you, Sir!"

Again, that giddiness. The buzz of my power was really something to keep an eye on. It was even making his face flush. Useful for inspiring loyalty, but could be detrimental in a really tense situation.

"The prisoners have been secured Sir," Biker reported as he came up beside me. "What are your orders?"

I grinned as I looked over my heavy hitter, the member of the group with the arguably strongest offensive power. If you were in doubt about Teacher being ludicrously overpowered already, get ready. Because just having this power alone in my arsenal was insane.

Nerve Manipulation: Striker.

The power to see and manipulate the body's nerves with but a touch. Between reading Wildbow's Word of God segments and Ward, I'd already known of its existence before arriving in this world and thus it was one of the first powers I'd looked up once I'd received the Library. Even at low "charge" it was a potent power… with deadly potential uses.

At its most basic level, it "merely" allowed a user the ability to induce temporary paralysis or unconsciousness by striking or grappling the body's nerves. A more advanced level allowed a person limited control of the victim's motor functions, like a very handsy Regent. Its full potential, however, turned a user from a credible threat in a fight to a living nightmare.

They could shut off a person's heart or lungs with a few short jabs, press a temple to cause a brain aneurysm, or initiate a stroke or seizure with a punch to the abdomen, forming a blood clot that would have devastating results.

Of course, the potential damage this power could do was mitigated by both the mental penalty that steeply increased at each level, as well as the fact a user had to get in close. An interplay where the deadlier the fighter's blows grew, the clumsier and less effective they became at delivering them. It all came down to how much of a glass cannon I was willing to turn a Student into.

And in a cape fight, sending an effectively drugged near-normal into a fight with car tossing brutes and tinkers in power armor was unlikely to be a good idea. But in a fight against normals, possessing even my most "impractical" powers was like bringing a gun to a knife fight. And I had a hell of a lot of guns.

Needless to say, the ability to turn someone from a F-List Regent into an evil(er?) Panacea would be an absolute last resort.

Setting my observations aside for the moment, I looked around the building. 'Man, they really made a mess of the place, didn't they?'

No more than a handful of minutes had passed since we'd entered the store, and it looked like a hurricane had blown through the place.

'In and out in five minutes, with the authorities none the wiser. Nice.'

"Well done, Freezetag." I turned back to the Biker, addressing him by his cape name. "Now… Everyone, turn out their pockets."

The group seemed momentarily confused at the order, some even looking taken aback.

"…Sir?" someone asked as the implications of what I'd said settled in.

"These men destroyed this store and attempted to assault an innocent," I reminded them. "I hereby invoke the Rules of Capedom, specifically the section pertaining to Vigilantism. By the right of Rip and Run: any goods these men possess, other than those they stole from this store, are henceforth forfeit. Our just rewards for having thwarted their heinous plans."

'And punishment for forcing my hand to get involved..'

It went without saying I was already well-versed in the rules and bylaws of the cape scene, even the wiki sections pertaining to cape customs not openly discussed in Worm. Basic vigilante subsistence strategy number one: Rip and Run.

If you beat the shit out of a bad guy, you were allowed to steal his stuff as long as you didn't break another Rule in the process. You could steal whatever a villain had on them, short of claiming their mask as a "prize" and indirectly unmasking them. In much the same way you were allowed to rob a villain's lair… as long as you weren't breaking into their family home, which could be construed as a threat against their loved ones, and rightly so.

Right now though, I didn't think there'd be any love lost between me and the authorities for what we'd do next.

I glanced down at the closest unconscious vandal, sizing him up him.

"...Hm." I pointed. "I call dibs on that one's shoes."