Bullets crisscrossed and zipped into Shotgun with no effect. He absorbed a fired tank shell, then opened his coat, firing back at the vehicle. It struck one of the tracks, flipping the tank over in the path of its comrades.
“We can fight them or we can fight the army, but we can’t fight both,” said Shotgun. “Multibeast, let’s get going!”
Mick chanced looking around the tree as the first of the tanks arrived. He looked back in time to see Shotgun and some of his crew on the run as Mutlibeast took flight.
Mick scanned the trees. Where’s Politically Correct?
He ran by Mick as the soldiers took aim.
“No, hold your fire!” Mick shouted. “Stop him!”
Nick had already taken up the fallen tree and slammed it into the ground, cutting off Politically Correct’s escape. He took up a defensive stance as the Sensational Six ringed around him.
“Leave him for Captain Pedantic,” said Mick.
Jordan broke from his comrades, entering the ring as Politically Correct nodded in salute. Both slapped their hands to their sides and bowed before circling each other. They jumped, delivering a front kick, stomping the soles of each other’s feet. A spinning crescent kick followed, resulting in the collision of both ankles.
They cried out in pain, then held up their hands to signify a break for a few moments. They hobbled in circles, waiting for the pain to subside, then rounded on each other.
“Have you noticed something here?” asked Pat.
“No,” said Ryan.
“It’s like Jordan’s fighting his reflection.”
Mick was inclined to agree as the duo circled again, countering each other step for step, along with every nuance.
“You will not win this day,” said Jordan. “An egg is not boiled in a volcano.”
“Ahh, but a cockroach never plays table tennis,” said Politically Correct.
“What are they talking about?” asked Glen.
Nick gave an elaborate shrug. The duo sent out a flurry of punches, each one colliding fists. They spun with a knife hand blow, striking each other’s palms with a meaty thud.
“Ah!” they cried in unison, cradling their hands.
All knew the outcome as they impulsively drew their heads back.
Mick winced. Here it comes.
Their heads collided as the rest of the Six contorted their faces in empathy. Both men fell unconscious to their backs. The remaining five in the group merely gaped for several moments, disbelieving what they had just witnessed.
“Nick, pick up Jordan,” said Mick finally finding his voice.
Only now did he become aware of the soldiers watching from behind as Nick picked up their team member.
“You can have Politically Correct,” Mick said to the army.
Curt orders followed, and men broke away from the tanks.
Glen took a step forward.
“We’re going to have to interrogate him. We’ll have to know where Shotgun’s gone.”
“And hold him for interrogation!” Mick added.