Read Action Figures - Issue Two: Black Magic Women for Free Online

off for a quick-change, while I take to the air. Powering up in plain sight like this isn’t the brightest thing to do, but civilians are too busy running for their lives to pay any attention to me.
    “Hey!” I shout.
    The woman turns to face me. “And who might you be, sunshine?” she says. Her grin is as good as a neon sign reading I AM MONKEYHOUSE CRAZY. Whose dumb idea was it to buy time for the Squad?
    Oh, yes, mine. Never mind.
    “The name’s Lightstorm,” I say. “And you are?”
    “You can call me Stacy Hellfire, sweetheart, and I’m just passing through,” she says. “Don’t mind me.”
    “You want to tell me what happened here?” And take your time so my back-up can do whatever they plan to do. God, I hope they have a plan.
    She considers the slagheap-in-the-making thoughtfully, then says, “He was rude.”
    “Okay. So, Stacy, how about I ask you, politely, to put the...uh, fire down and tell me what you’re doing here?”
    “Can’t talk. Woman on a mission.”
    She raises her hands, thus ending our cordial exchange, but before she can nail me, she flies backwards, as though a psionic with an excellent sense of timing nailed her with a telekinetic battering ram. Stacy hits the ground hard enough to leave a crater.
    Now what?
Sara says.
    Stay on her!
I say. She might be down, but something tells me she’s far from out.
    Matt’s voice joins the mental chat room.
Don’t have to tell us twice, we saw what she did to that car.
    The aftermath is a show in and of itself. The fire thins out, revealing the charred skeleton of the car’s frame as the body panels melt into a pool of molten goo. It’s like watching a candle burn away at high speed. The flames, hungry for more, spread to the road and show no signs of slowing down.
    Is there a plan?
    Beat her into unconsciousness
, Matt says.
Duh
.
    Oh, brilliant.
    Before I can ask how we’re going to get close enough to do that, Stuart sails past me, the apex of his leap taking him directly over my head (!), and lands near our new friend. At first thought it’s a sound theory: get Stuart, he of the invulnerable skin, to take her down. However, as one old science teacher of mine liked to say, nothing ruins a great theory like an ugly fact — and in this case, the fact is: she reduced a car to puddle in under two minutes.
    Stacy sits up. I shout out a warning that comes too late. Stuarts yelps and staggers back, gouts of flame splashing off his chest. He screams and flails away, tearing his leather vest off. The thing is ash before it hits the ground.
    What happens next is nothing less than a miracle of good timing. I power up for a blast, planning to flatten Stacy Hellfire, while Matt and Sara converge on Stuart. Matt pulls a fire extinguisher out of his coat, and Sara assumes a defensive position, ready to deflect a follow-up attack that doesn’t come because Missy, in no more of her costume than her ninja hood, springs out of nowhere. She rakes the woman across the face, leaving four ragged red streaks. Missy is barely clear when my energy blast connects, knocking Miss Flamey-Hands back to the ground. If either Missy or I had been a fraction of a second off, we’d all be dodging crazy flaming mayhem, and Missy would be a smear on the sidewalk.
    Like I said: a miracle.
    A short-lived miracle at that: Stacy gets right back up, shooting wildly. Bullets (or whatever they are) punch holes in the sides of buildings, dig fist-sized craters in the ground, slice through abandoned cars. Everything they touch catches fire; metal, stone, whatever, it all goes up like paper. Liquid fire splatters over the invisible dome of Sara’s telekinetic shield. The shots aren’t penetrating, but who knows if that will last.
    Stacy pauses, her face a mask of rage. She spots Missy crouched behind an SUV, and the reckless assault finds its focus.
    This woman has taken a fair beating so far, so I decide to amp up my attack, thinking (hoping) a solid blast won’t kill her.