With any super-hero series, I suspect the reader looks for, and even expects, a decent fight sequence here and there. As the series progressed, those sequences became more elaborate as more heroes joined the team, their powers more elaborate than just Greg's abilities in the first volume, especially since he has only just gained his superior talents:
Chapter Thirty-one
He bolts through his apartment door; the cats follow to the sill and stop, wondering what’s the matter.
He races down the stairs and out the side door, exiting under the carport. He immediately spies a young man with a can of spray paint, applying a graphic design to a garage door across the alley.
“Hey,” Greg yells out, “I don’t think the owner would want you to do that.”
The young man wheels about, dropping the spray can and pulling a gun from his baggy jeans. Before Greg can react, he fires.
“Shit!” Greg exclaims as he recoils sideways in time for the bullet to barely graze his arm instead of hitting his chest. His new, increased quickness saved him. Still, blood flows from the wound.
Mentally, he orders the kid to drop the gun. Instead, the jerk fires again, Greg ducking in time so that the bullet hits a brick building behind him.
Thinking fast, Greg sends a mental image of himself escaping down the alley. The kid fires at the fleeing figure.
In a moment, Greg is at the kid’s side and decks him with one angry fist to the chin.
The kid collapses backward onto the blacktop, the gun falling from his hand.
Greg kicks it aside with his foot and then drops to the ground, the powerful new adrenaline in his system still racing fast.
He eyes the kid keenly, wondering why his command to drop the gun had no effect. Even now, he feels the intense hatred and evil that pervaded the kid’s mind.
“The intensity must have blocked my thoughts,” he realizes.
Mentally, he seeks out a nearby police car. He locates one on the other side of Cheesman Park. Subtly, he directs the officer to the alley.
As the cruiser turns the corner, Greg stands up and waves. The kid is still out.
Chapter Thirty-one
He bolts through his apartment door; the cats follow to the sill and stop, wondering what’s the matter.
He races down the stairs and out the side door, exiting under the carport. He immediately spies a young man with a can of spray paint, applying a graphic design to a garage door across the alley.
“Hey,” Greg yells out, “I don’t think the owner would want you to do that.”
The young man wheels about, dropping the spray can and pulling a gun from his baggy jeans. Before Greg can react, he fires.
“Shit!” Greg exclaims as he recoils sideways in time for the bullet to barely graze his arm instead of hitting his chest. His new, increased quickness saved him. Still, blood flows from the wound.
Mentally, he orders the kid to drop the gun. Instead, the jerk fires again, Greg ducking in time so that the bullet hits a brick building behind him.
Thinking fast, Greg sends a mental image of himself escaping down the alley. The kid fires at the fleeing figure.
In a moment, Greg is at the kid’s side and decks him with one angry fist to the chin.
The kid collapses backward onto the blacktop, the gun falling from his hand.
Greg kicks it aside with his foot and then drops to the ground, the powerful new adrenaline in his system still racing fast.
He eyes the kid keenly, wondering why his command to drop the gun had no effect. Even now, he feels the intense hatred and evil that pervaded the kid’s mind.
“The intensity must have blocked my thoughts,” he realizes.
Mentally, he seeks out a nearby police car. He locates one on the other side of Cheesman Park. Subtly, he directs the officer to the alley.
As the cruiser turns the corner, Greg stands up and waves. The kid is still out.
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