I rubbed at
my temples to clear the last of the guy’s screaming from my mind. He was silent,
but not because he had overcome his fear. In fact, he was probably terrified
beyond his ability to speak or even scream. I was fine with it.
We were
still descending at terminal velocity, and had another minute or so before we
hit the ground in spectacular fashion. I could wait to make things more
dramatic, but it would also make my migraine worse, so I opted for the simpler,
yet flashier method.
I grabbed
his shirt and pushed wind into him, but I guided it straight back out of his
feet to act like a thrust. His shoes flew off as jets of wind shot out of his
feet. The pyros were fond of using actual jet thrusters of fire out of their
feet. While theirs were flashier, especially when it was blue flame, ours were
more controllable.
I ramped
the thrust of wind up until we began to slow, pouring my own air reserves into
Moron to give it a steady supply of thrust. We descended and landed on the
ground much like a butterfly onto a flower petal. Well, I did. He kind of
collapsed into a heap.
After a
moment he sprang up, arms high in the air, shouting. “I flew like Iron man! I
flew like Iron Man! I flew—”
“Repulsor blast,” I interjected,
zapping him with a bolt of lightning.
He’ll
be fine. When he wakes up. At least it’s quite, now.