Kill on Command by Slaton Smith

Harrisburg walked over and leaned on the fence surrounding the field and looked up at her in the bleachers.
     
    “You here to watch us crush those guys?”  Steve asked, checking out her long legs.  She ignored them.
     
    “Hey!  You hear me?”  Steve asked again.  Sandy looked down at them and removed her sunglasses.  She stared at him.  A cold sensation ran through Steve.  He suddenly was afraid.  Something in her eyes. 
     
    “Fuck off,” she said.  She put her glasses back on and looked forward.  “Damn that feels good,” she thought.  Steve and the other two turned and walked away.
     
    “Let’s not do that again,” one of them said to the other.
     
    The refs blew the whistle – game time.
     
    “It’s coming to you off the face buddy,” Brian said to him and stopped at the middle of the field for the face off.  Sean jogged to the far sideline and took his position.  Steve was standing there.  Sean turned and stood next to him.  At midfield Brian looked over at Sean.
     
    “Remember what I said!”  Brian shouted.
     
    “You two are a couple fags,” Steve snarled.
     
    “Thanks eunuch,” Sean replied and at that same moment the whistle blew.  Brian won the face and the ball shot across the field like a laser towards Sean.  He caught it and immediately headed for the goal.  However, Steve was good, moving into position to check the ball out of Sean’s stick.  But Sean was not the Sean of old.  He moved too fast.  In Sean’s mind, the rest of the men on the field were moving in slow motion.  The speed in which impulses were sent to Sean’s brain was unrivaled, providing him with reflexes and speed that was unmatched – on the field and everywhere else for that matter.   He gave Steve a face dodge and ran right past him.  Steve stood there, mouth open.  Brian stopped too.  Sean crossed mid-field, heading for the goal.  A Harrisburg defenseman moved up to stop him.  Sean made a sharp cut left, shifting the stick to his left.  The defenseman stumbled trying to slide over to check Sean.  He fired the shot out of the d-stick.  It went in top left.  It appeared as if the goalie’s feet were stuck in concrete.  The whistle blew.  Sean stopped running and turned to go back to his position.  Brian still at midfield, walked towards his friend.
     
    “That’s some kind of fast! Where has that been?” 
     
    Sean shrugged.
     
    “If I run all that way, I’m going to shoot,” Sean said, with a broad smile.
     
    “Let’s do it again,” Brian said, tapping him with his stick.  Sean lined up again with Steve.  Sean looked at him.
     
    “They must have taken your legs too, eunuch,” Sean taunted.
     
    “Asshole.  I’m going to ear-hole that prick,” Steve mumbled.
     
    The whistle blew.  Brian won the face again and snapped the ball to Sean.  Another laser, right to him.  He snatched it out of the air and made a beeline for the goal.  He was too fast, too quick for Harrisburg.  He crossed mid-field again and ran straight for the goal.  The shot came out like a rocket.  The goalie didn’t have a chance. His second goal in less than a minute.  Play stopped.  Sean stopped to turn and head back to mid-field.  Steve Vaughn did not stop, however.  He had a fourteen-step jump and crosschecked Sean high, right to the head.  
     
    The lights went out.
     
    Sean’s head snapped violently to the left.  His feet left the ground.  His gloves flew off and he landed on his left side.  He did not move.  Several things happened at once.  Tom Ryan grabbed the back of Steve’s jersey, and slammed him to the ground.  Tom began punching him like he was a human jackhammer.  Several Harrisburg players pulled Tom off Steve.  Michelle and Stacy covered their mouths with their hands in shock.
     
    Sandy stood up.  “No!  No!” she said.  She feared he was dead.  Bill and Bob got out of the truck and walked to the edge of the fence.
     
    Sean was still