Chapter 15: Immovable Object

                                    

                                          
Jonathan sprinted along the asphalt, kicking up dust that took forever to fall back down as he zipped between the wheeled obstacles in his way. Anya should be safe in the association's headquarters for now, but there was no guarantee that Harred's mafia could not somehow track her down. He had to take action fast to stop them.
.
.
.
Yeah right, as if he really was that much of a hero.
Jonathan's eyes narrowed in focus as the ridiculous flashy building came into view. Sparks danced around his body as he sauntered up to the sentries yelling and firing their cap guns at him. The immortal raised his hand and struck them down with a single bolt of lightning. The ground cracked under the speed of his feet and the metal gates burst off the hinges with a tackle.
His glowing eyes looked up at the building straight ahead. It was a toy castle, surrounded by plastic and foam. A brat lived there with her puny toys under a pathetic sense of security. A brat who had robbed him of the last member of his family. And he was here to tear it all to the ground.
Fragments of maple wood announced Jonathan's arrival, scattering themselves at the gangsters' feet. The toys screamed and raised their weapons. Footsteps of at least a few hundred more echoed in the large dining hall around him. Jonathan grinned giddily; more to crush under his feet. They opened fire, and Jonathan took the time to contemplate if he should show off his speed or his invulnerability. He decided he had time for both.
He reappeared at the end of the hallway in a flash and whistled loudly at the men. They turned around after a comical pause and resumed spitting lead at him, which only felt like bubbles popping against his skin. Jonathan walked closer to the increasingly fearful men and drove his hand through the closest one. It went through his flesh like a knife through water.
The poor man gurgled and fell to the ground before he could comprehend what happened. Jonathan yanked a rifle out of another's hands and received a punch to the face in return. He let out a short laugh at the gangster clutching his broken knuckles in pain.
"I don't understand. You see, if the bullets won't work," he scoffed, leaning into his face with a taunting grin. "Why would a punch?"
The silence he received was applause enough for his punchline, and the speedster sliced the rest of their throats instantly. After all, he could not play with them for long; he still had a job to do.
Broken toys were strewn all over by the time Jonathan got to the castle's centre; some of them with blackened bodies and others with modifications to their design. Holes and gashes, to be specific. He scarcely had time to admire his handiwork when a deafening blast knocked him off his feet and into a wall.
Not this time.
Jonathan rolled away from the rubble before it could fall on him. He glared murderously at the dumbfounded man with a rocket launcher on his shoulder. It took him a moment to realise he was now standing in the centre of a circular ballroom. Hundreds of men ran along the corridors on the floors above, pointing their trafficked high calibre rifles at him. He gritted his teeth defiantly as their leader gave the order to unload everything they had.
Afterimages of the speedster's body danced around the ballroom at hundreds of times the speed of sound, catching all the ammunition flying at him. He gave up after a while when his hands were full and basked in the light show, waiting for the toys to cease their futile attempt. They did so soon enough, and bullets clattered to the ground as he opened his hands dramatically.
"My turn." Jonathan's body glowed fiercely for a moment, before a huge blast of electricity exploded outwards from him. The hundreds of gangsters dropped dead from the nasty electrical bomb as he casually walked out of the room. He turned to a regal looking door with a sinister smile on his face. Only the brat was left.
~ ~ ~
"How dare you come into my house-"
The woman crashed against her bookshelf and fell to the ground. She staggered to her feet, wiping a trickle of blood from the edge of her mouth. Clara Harred raised her fists at the informant who had just tackled her.
"You just don't understand, do you?" Jonathan's voice trembled in anticipation, his eyes covered with a bluish white light. "You have no more power here. All your men are dead by my hand."
"Then they're simply useless," Clara spat. "I am a Harred. London is my birthright! You don't frighten me with your light tricks, Warner. I will kill you, and everyone you love-"
"You already have!" Jonathan roared and took a step forward aggressively. Clara rushed forward, catching his outstretched hand and threw him onto the floor. She aimed her feet at the side of his knee and stomped as hard as she could.
A sharp pain shot through her leg instead as she stumbled backwards from the reaction force.
"You freak!" She winced at the man unaffected by her blows. "What happened to you? What... What are you?"
"Just a man who lost everything."
Clara shrieked in anger and raised her palm, preparing to slam it into his head with full force. Jonathan closed his eyes and embraced himself for what was about to happen. The palm connected with the side of his head.
An ear piercing scream nearly split his ears. Jonathan opened his eyes again, looking grimly at the whimpering mafia princess clutching her mangled arm. She fell backwards in horror as the indestructible man stared down at her with cold, unblinking eyes. Clara shook her head frantically as Jonathan knelt down in front of her.
"I like what you've done with your arm, Miss Harred. It's broken in at least four places, a fate really suited for scum like you," Jonathan whispered.
"P-please... Don't kill me..." Clara pushed herself backwards from him with her other hand, leaning up against the wall. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
"Believe me, lady. I want you dead more than anything, I really do." Jonathan stood up. "But the greatest punishment in life isn't death, Clara. You're going to live out the rest of your life without anyone else to order around. Nothing but a useless, powerless brat."
"Oh, and don't even think about ending your life if you value your other arm." Sparks began to dance around his body. "You've seen what I'm capable of. It would serve you well to keep your mouth shut about what happened tonight."
The two of them vanished in a flash of lightning.
~ ~ ~
Jonathan Warner trod across the pavement as the police officers on duty yelled in the distance about the mysterious appearance of the wanted mafia princess at their station. His clothes were soaked in the pouring rain, but he trudged along anyway. A sense of emptiness and tiredness gripped his body, although he had thought himself no longer possible to feel exhaustion. The most powerful immortal in London turned into the alley of Whitacre street, ignoring the stares of his ex-neighbours as he lay down in a cardboard box in his old home.
And for the first time in a month, he slept.