"When were you planning to destroy planet Earth?" I asked, my eyes steely. My gaze shot though Aaron's brown eyes. His imposing demeanor wavered slightly. And probably because his hair started crackling faintly, turning lighter brown.
"The moment you appeared," Aaron admitted. "But then it wasn't you who brought the rest of you here, was it? Someone already knew our plans."
The air rippled, and Robert stepped back into space-time. Like he ripped a hole in space-time and walked back into that space-time coordinate. I meant that. Robert had space-time travel.
"I just destroyed the Kremlin. Other places you'd like me to remove off the place of the Earth?" Kevin asked.
"Yes, but together," I added. My writer lived a sheltered life, thus they gave me a brash personality.
"I stole a bunch of nuclear war heads," Robert said. "And I killed Spencer by putting Arsenic straight in his blood vessels."
"Spencer's an a-hole," I said, smirking at Aaron. "Way more so than Aaron."
"Let's go and kick some butt!" Aaron shouted. "Robert, are you going to take us back to Earth?"
"Heck no. I'm leaving all you losers behind," Robert said. "Bye yo!" And with that, Robert disappeared into the fabric of space.
"I kind of wanted to kill people personally," Aaron said dejectedly.
"Kill people?" I asked. "We have people right here," I said, eyeing my crew.
"Wait, wait, wait," Cole stammered, backing up. "What?"
"Yeah!" I said. "Let's have a duel!"
"No! Wait!" Cole said.
"Oh, really, Claire?" Aaron asked, a vicious smile forming. "You ready?"
"Oh God," Jack whispered. The others stepped back.
I picked up wooden pencil off the table. A thirty-centimeter long, five-centimeter thick, solid wood stick grew around it in my hands with a bit of concentration. Aaron's eyes grew wide. "You're on!" I smiled.
"Weapons? No fair!"
"Very fair," I said. "My power is chemistry. Now use your power."
Aaron concentrated and a gravitational vortex appeared in between us. I dug into the ground around my feet, holding on.
"This is all you can do?" I asked, building up momentum as I resisted the pull.
"What're you doing otherwise?" Aaron asked, straining to keep the powerful vortex going strong.
I unhooked my feet and ran perpendicular to the vortex and Aaron. Its gravitational pull grabbed me into a close orbit with Aaron straight in its path.
I concentrated, breaking bonds in the glucose at the tip of my stick, bursting it into flames. Avoiding burning myself, I smashed my flaming half-baseball bat into Aaron's stupid face before he gained control of his vortex.
The gravity distortion disappeared as Aaron collapsed, but that also left me spinning out of control.
And then Jack and Jason caught me.
They didn't physically catch me. I'd probably kill them if they did that. No way. Jason increased the friction on the floor, slowing me way down, and Jack thickened the air until it became more or less liquid, further dampening my momentum until I could catch myself.
"Wow," was all I could say. That felt good. Really good.
Until I looked over at poor Aaron.
The flaming stick was still sputtering, but the floor, walls, and ceiling were made of flame retardant material. Thankfully, they snuffed out most of the fire.
Aaron lay next to it, a giant raw and red burn mark on the right side of his face. He was muttering something in his delirium. Cole was crouched worriedly next to him.
I might have hit him a little too hard. I mean, our tussle was "deadly," but I wasn't planning on killing him, yet. In fact, couldn't. My writer was going to be so mad at me. But man, that gravity distortion. I'd have to admit, that was pretty boss.
I grabbed an empty beaker and squeezed a bit of my hand sanitizer from my backpack into it. In case you didn't know, most antibacterial gel hand sanitizers were seventy percent ethyl alcohol by volume. Focusing on the simple carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen structure, I replicated more of the ethyl alcohol, ignoring the fragrance, aloe, and such. The air swirled in the beaker as liquid ethyl alcohol condensed onto the glass.
"Here," I said, handing the beaker to Cole. "It's ethyl alcohol."
Cole stared confused at the clear liquid. "What am I supposed to do with it? Make him drink it?"
I frowned. Quickly, I grabbed a cloth from the table. "No, clean his burns," I said, handing him the cloth.
In a separate beaker, I made a huge slop of petroleum jelly from Chapstick and the remains of the coffeemaker.
At some point, Robert must have come back, because he was standing off to the side. "That was insane," he said.
"Yeah," I said absently, putting down the petroleum jelly beaker. With Cole, I lifted Aaron to one of the bunks in the station. Robert turned to leave.
"Bobby," I called to him just before he opened a rift. "Can you grab medical supplies from Earth, like before you destroy it?"
He nodded. "I guess I can, since I need Aaron alive to fight him. What do you need?"
"Yeah." I ran my hand through my short black hair. "I don't know. Gauze tape? Antibiotics? A doctor!" The stress hit me all at once. I almost killed Aaron. I needed him alive and sneering in order to have him fight Cole.
Oh. I wasn't supposed to say that. Oops.
"He's probably going to be fine," Robert assured. "Are you sure you need the doctor?"
I bit my lip. "No. But I think amoxicillin would be important." I looked over at Aaron, who was sleeping now. Cole had put the petroleum jelly on the burn, but Aaron looked fine otherwise, for the time being.
"Anything else?"
"Maybe a digital thermometer," I said. "And some food. Man, I'm hungry."
"I'm not going to be your personal cat burglar. I'm only doing this so I can kill Aaron later," Robert clarified.
"Same," I said. "But while you're at it, could you not be such an imbecile and just help us out just once?"
Robert shrugged. "'Kay." He stepped into a rip in space-time. And like that, he was gone.
I stared at the sleeping Aaron. I didn't hate him quite as much as I put on. Heck, he mostly hated me. I was pretty sure it was my fault, and if you ask him, he'd say it was totally my fault. And now that my frenemy lay there, almost dead, I wasn't sure that I hated him quite enough to kill him, with or without my writer's plans. 870Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3X3deWmqKr
"I’m sorry," I whispered. I got up, walked into the central area, and joined the rest of my crew for an early dinner. 870Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH3mNb893Wz
