Together, They Fight Crime

He’s a paraplegic sorcerer with a bag full of used knickers.
She’s an obese barbarian possessed with the uncanny powers of an insect.
Together, they fight crime.

Charles placed the bag just inside the fence and then wheeled away as fast as his second hand wheelchair would carry him. There was a cacophony of barking, and then three vicious-looking mastiffs burst around the corner of the warehouse and fell upon it, biting and tearing at the canvas.

“What is in that thing?” Susan asked as she pushed her bulk through a hole in the chain link fence. With Charles being and a wheelchair and her weighing upwards of three hundred pounds, breaking and entering was hardly their strong suit. At least, not the entering—they were perfectly good at breaking.

A purple glow emanated from Charles’s hands and the bag, glowing similarly, lifted from the ground and began to float away. The guard dogs bounded after it. “Heavily used knickers,” he responded.

“Heavily used?”

Charles nodded. “It wouldn’t do to use knickers that someone just sat around the house in. No, these were worn by marathon runners, marathon joggers, and even marathon walkers.”

That made sense. Susan owned a few such pairs herself.

“Do you think they know we’re here?” Charles was looking up to the second floor windows of the warehouse, through which they could see light, but no movement.

“That was a lot of barking.”

“Then is it time to throw caution to the winds?”

Susan unslung a massive double-bladed axe from over her shoulder. “Charles, have I ever voted on the side of caution?”

The little sorcerer shook his head. “No, of course not.”  He gestured towards the windows.  “After you, buggy.”

Susan crouched, her legs straining under her weight, and leapt towards a window. She soared though the air and, with a swipe of her axe, burst through the pane. She landed into a roll and came up amid a shower of glass shards and wooden splinters.

The mobsters in the room looked up, stunned, and then began to reach for their guns.

Behind her, Charles rose through the air, his limp legs hanging even as his body glowed softly. He reached out a hand, then clenched it and ripped it backwards through the air. As he did so, a huge length of the wall was torn from the building. He glided into the warehouse, greeted by more stunned mobsters.

“Wasn’t that a tad unnecessary?”

Charles brought his hand through the air and a glowing purple hand choke slammed a monster to the ground. “I just figured your bug powers let you make all the dramatic entrances.”

The purple hand grabbed another mobster and sent him crashing into a group of his allies.  “I wanted my turn.”

It was understandable.  Susan did have a knack for obliterating walls.  It (and ice cream) was the reason she became obese in the first place.  She had the strength of an insect, and certain insects could lift up to fifty times their body weight.  Now, she was no math genius, but Susan knew fifty times three hundred pounds was at least triple fifty times one hundred and fifty pounds.

“I suppose it was your turn,” she said as she decapitated a mobster.  “Now shield me.”

The mobsters had found their guns, and were aiming them at the odd pair as Susan allowed the rage to overtake her.  She suddenly saw red, although that may have been the spray from her earlier axe-swinging.

As Susan leaped into the midst of the mobsters, her great axe turning the group into a crimson melee, Charles hovered up against the ceiling, his purple hands nimbly snatching bullets from the air just before they struck.

Within minutes, Susan had cleared the entire warehouse.

“Where are the records on the mob’s activity?” she asked as her rage subsided.

“Who cares? Leave that to the police.”

Sirens sounded from outside.

“Speaking of which,” Charles continued, “I need to get back to my wheelchair before they arrive.”

He made a pulling motion, and one of his purple hands dragged the wheelchair to him.  “Push me?” Charles asked as he settled down, and Susan pushed him through the back door of the warehouse.

“Should we leave some sort of calling card,” Charles asked, “something to let the police know someone was here?”

“Perhaps they’ll figure it out when they find the front of the building three blocks away.”




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