by thedoctor, T5 and TheTimeTrust
As the battle moved itself into the vacant field behind the apartment, Dirk Bell swung into action. His grenade had hopefully blinded one of them. He just needed to find a way to stop the rest. The gunslinger had been with the group for only a short while, so he wasn't too familiar with what powers they had. Plus, there were a couple that he had never even seen before.
Tobias Christopher was busy running back and forth in a battle with his double, Terrible Tobias. As a cloud of dust rose and covered everything, Dirk had an idea. He ran upstairs to find the fire hose on the second floor. Aiming it out of an open window, a flood of water streamed down to the fight below. Satanic Sonja felt the brunt of the blast and fell to the ground. The dust quickly turned to mud, making it hard for any speedster to operate at full capacity.
"That should slow some of them down," Dirk said as he covered the field with water.
"DIRK!" Tobias yelled up after cleaning the mud off his face. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Just making the playing field even for us normal folk. That's all. Now it's playtime." As he tossed the turned-off hose aside, a huge rifle was rested on the window seal. "Concussion rifle AWAY!"
As Terrible Tobias tried to escape from the mud pit, a force of pure air smacked hard against his body, tossing him into the soft mud. Everyone looked in amazement as they saw the speedster pushed into the mud and surrounded by it.
"I love my toys," the marksman said as he took aim for another shot.
Negative Naecken, the uh... darker version of Naecken, took a few determined steps and glared at Grimm, who stood ready and confident.
He raised his fists, and suddenly the floor opened beneath him and swallowed him whole. Grimm turned around to see a slow, dark figure entering the fray.
"Ha ha ha ha... You certainly know how to end fights, you dark demon," said Grimm.
"He wasn't connected," said Naecken matter-of-factly.
"Ummm, yeah," said Grimm hesitantly, remembering that this was one of the weird characters of the team.
About a hundred feet below them, the ground crushed the impostor Naecken with a wet squish.
Sam Dawson sighed. "How many times do we have to rebuild this place?"
"I KILL yooooooou!"
Pete Glover, that lucky bastard, was dodging all of Perverse Pete's lunges at him with a bare minimum of effort, and all it was doing was making the perverse one angrier and angrier, not to mention clumsier and clumsier.
"Mind yer mouth, now, me old son. What bug crawled up yer ass an' died, anyways?" Pete said as Perverse Pete came swinging at him with his fingernails but slipped on a banana peel and gave himself a black eye on the kitchen counter. "Ye sure not be a happy one, ain't you?"
Perverse Pete just kept swearing and cursing as his already-bruised face became red with anger.
"Ye're as slow as cold molasses runnin' up a hill, ain'tcha, b'y?" Pete said laughing. "There's a reason they call me 'that lucky bastard,' ya chucklehead, carn't ye figure that out? I never needs ta clobber ye none -- ye're doin' all your own damage ta yerself. If ye could only see yerself right now, b'y."
"Shut up, ya fuckin' bum! I'm gonna gouge out yer eyes and make me a sammitch wid 'em!" At that, Perverse Pete made another lunge at Pete, but slipped on the blood and spittle he himself left on the floor from his last fall. Unfortunately for him, he grabbed out and ended up sending the oven door down upon his head. He was still conscious, but in yet-more-terrible pain.
"You be the jinxed one, boy. I oughtta pick ya up by the scruff an' toss ya out the window fer yer behavior. Shameful dat is, shameful, b'y. Carn't we just settles our diff'rences o'er a swig o' Guinness?"
"What the hell is Guinness?" Perverse Pete shouted in frustration while trying to get himself out from under the oven door with little luck so far.
"'What the hell is Guinness--?!' Megods, boy, ye've been deprived of yer education, ain'tche? 'Ere, lemme get some ice fer yer 'ead, an' we'll takes a stroll ta the eighth floor. I'll catch ye up quick on what every Newfoundlander knows by the time 'e's five years of age."
Pete "the Chimp" Glover helped Perverse Pete -- who was too weak from the exhaustion of the one-sided fight to do anything but hang onto him for support -- up and took him to the elevator, and then to the bar on the eighth floor.
Continued in Chapter 15: Nobody Outdrinks a True Newfoundlander