The Boxermobile’s tires hummed low and smooth over the dark asphalt, its reinforced chassis sleek as a prowling panther beneath the bruised twilight sky. Ken kept his eyes trained on the winding road that snaked down the Grit City hillside, streetlights flickering like tired sentinels. In the backseat, Ethan—now proudly wearing the moniker The Kickboxing Kid—leaned against the window, quiet for once. Beside him, the lamp rested in a containment case etched with anti-magic sigils Ken had once copied from a defunct grimoire at the Library of Occult Sciences.
Jack—The Stealthy Scout—was fiddling with the buckle of his safety belt.
“I still think I should be sitting in front,” Jack grumbled, though there was no real bite in it.
“You’re three apples tall,” Ken replied. “You’re lucky you’re not in a booster seat.”
Ethan smirked, but his smile faded quickly. The pressure in the air was shifting. A static buzz prickled at his arms beneath his too-short sleeves. He sat up straight. “Something’s wrong.”
Ken frowned. “You feel that too?”
There was no time to respond. A deafening crack split the air like a lightning bolt smashing concrete—and without warning, a blur of violet light slammed into the front of the Boxermobile.
BOOM.
The reinforced hood buckled inward like a soda can under a boot. The vehicle spun violently, careening off the road and into the shallow ditch that ran parallel to the pine-lined street. The airbags deployed with a burst of white powder and compressed air—sending Ken’s head snapping back and both boys in the backseat crashing into each other like tossed ragdolls.
Smoke hissed from the hood. The headlights flickered and died.
A figure floated slowly down through the smoke—hovering like a shark with nowhere to be but blood.
The Sorcerer Scientist.
Half her body shimmered with cybernetic reinforcement; an elegant gauntlet encased her left arm, pulsating with techno-magical energy. Purple sigils spiraled lazily up her bionic limb, and her eyes glowed cold silver under a curtain of dark, wind-whipped hair.
“Well, well,” she said, voice laced with derision. “I thought I smelled juvenile fear.”
Ken groaned and shoved his airbag aside, reaching instinctively for the lamp case in the backseat. But before he could retrieve it, the car door was torn from its hinges and flung into the forest.
“Out,” the Sorcerer Scientist commanded.
She didn’t wait.
With a flick of her glove, Ken was launched from the vehicle with a grunt, skidding across the gravel shoulder like a broken doll.
The rear doors flung open—Ethan and Jack tumbled out, coughing, eyes wide with terror. The lamp case clattered free of the backseat and rolled into the street.
Ethan was the first to recover. He sprang to his feet in a blur of motion, throwing a high kick at the Sorcerer’s head—except he forgot he wasn’t the man he used to be. His center of gravity had changed. His muscles weren't yet re-coordinated.
He slipped.
His heel barely grazed her shoulder before she backhanded him out of the air with a casual swing of her glowing gauntlet. Ethan hit the ground hard, dazed and scraped.
Jack tried to leap behind her, scouting for an opening with one of his throwing knives already in hand. But she was faster.
“Nice try, woodland brat,” she sneered. With a swipe of her gauntlet, a ribbon of energy lashed from her wrist and wrapped around Jack’s legs mid-leap. He yelped, twisting in midair as she slammed him into the dirt beside Ethan.
They lay in a heap of pain and embarrassment—grunting, spitting out gravel.
Ken rose shakily, hand gripping the edge of a felled log for balance. He reached into his belt and flung a smoke pellet—but the Sorcerer Scientist simply waved the mist away with a pulse from her glove.
“I tracked the lamp to this location. I was expecting the Blue Boxer and Lumberjack to be guarding it,not his mascot sidekick and two fanboys.”
“Don’t underestimate us,” Ken growled.
“Why not? You’re doing a wonderful job of underestimating yourselves,” she replied smoothly.
The glow from the glove brightened. The boys forced themselves upright, swaying slightly. They looked into each other's eyes, shared a determined nod, and struck at the same time.
Ethan threw a punch.
Jack charged from the side.
They moved like well-trained kids—quick, determined, creative. But for the Sorcerer Scientist, it was like watching rookies playing a game meant for gladiators.
With a bolt of lightning, a magical barrier appeared between them.
Ethan’s punch was easily deflected, sending him off balance. Jack’s knife barely skimmed the surface.
She didn’t even move.
She lifted her gauntleted hand and activated one of the sigils. A concussive burst of violet energy erupted from the palm.
CRACK—BOOOOM.
The three heroes were knocked off their feet instantly, their young bodies too weak to withstand the shockwave. Ken’s ears rang. Ethan’s vision blurred. Jack blacked out before he hit the grass.
The Sorcerer Scientist walked to the case, now cracked open from the blast.
She plucked the lamp delicately from the crushed foam inside, holding it aloft.
“Finally,” she purred.
She turned toward the unconscious Ethan, who twitched once in the dirt, still trying to move despite it all.
She knelt beside him.
“So brave,” she cooed mockingly. Then she reached out, ruffled his tousled blonde hair, and smiled. “You should’ve stayed in school.”
And in a flash of purple smoke—she was gone.
Silence returned to the roadside.
Ethan lay motionless. Jack was curled on his side, his scout satchel still gripped weakly in one hand. Ken was sprawled across the gravel, clutching at his ribs.
The stars overhead shimmered, uncaring.
And for the first time in a long time—Grit City’s defenders had been beaten.