THE LOCAL HEROES:
Back Issues And Side Stories
by Al Bruno III
rev 1.0
Copyright Al Bruno III 2011
Smashwords Edition License Notes:
This free ebook may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.
Cover art by Rebecca Whitaker
Single Celled Vigilante
by
Al Bruno III
the original version of this tale appeared at shortfastanddeadly.com
The spring of 1940 marked the beginning of the Golden Age of heroes. Masked marvels had begun to sprout up in everywhere, some had powers far beyond those of mortal men, others were just foolhardy adventurers but all of them were eager to change the world.
In the spring of 1940 River City was no different.
A figure dressed in shades of black and gray stalked along the rooftops near the River City Museum. It drew a dark cape up over a mask-like hood and watched a suspicious-looking truck pull up in front of the building. A gang of thugs piled out. Leading them was the infamous Vinnie the Claw leader of the Shellfish gang.
It was time to act, there was a new hero in town.
*
At the end of Vinnie the Claw’s right arm was a lobster-esque pincer that was three times the size of a normal man’s hand. He brought it down on the case full of Egyptian treasures shattering the glass. He then ordered his men to get the loot.
Vinnie’s pincer clicked in anticipation. The Museum’s alarms were ringing but there was no way the cops would get there in time. This would be the heist that put the Shellfish gang on the map, this is when he graduated from being a two bit mobster into a full-fledged crime lord. Vinnie grinned at the thought of what that meant- money, power and expensive personalized stationary.
Once he was sure his men had grabbed everything of value Vinnie said, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
A masked man appeared in the doorway of the Egyptian antiquities exhibit. He was tall and dressed in shades of gray, the hood-like mask he wore couldn’t disguise his mischievous grin, “Does someone miss their mummy?”
Vinnie didn’t know who the caped figure was, and he didn’t much care, self-appointed crime-fighters were a dime a dozen these days. Whoever the guy was, he’d just made a big mistake. With a gesture of his claw Vinnie ordered his men to stomp the guy unto the ground.
The thugs charged. Instead of running the masked man threw himself into their midst. A punch to the jaw sent one falling to the floor, an uppercut sent another stumbling backwards.
One of the Shellfish Gang grabbed a spear off of a display and jabbed at the man in gray, forcing him back.
“Better be careful,” the crime-fighter quipped, “someone’s going to get hurt.”
The thug snarled and jabbed forward again only to have the spear grabbed from his hands. Then the masked man used the blunt end to club the thug into unconsciousness.
“See?”
Two more thugs left. One came up behind the hero and got him in a headlock. The other began hitting the man in gray in the gut again and again.
“It tickles!” he joked before sending one thug flying with a kick to the face. Then he flipped the other thug over his head and tossed him into the wall.
The masked man looked around the room with a smug grin...
...until he realized that the ringleader of the Shellfish gang was gone.
*
The bags of loot were heavy but the car wasn’t all that far away. Vinnie waddled and heaved, he was sure his boys would be able to handle that guy but he wasn’t going to wait around to be sure.
“You’re trespassing.” the voice was a thick rumble.
Vinnie stopped dead in his tracks. There was a figure dressed all in black perched atop the getaway truck, the cape and hood-like mask he wore were a match for what the other guy had been wearing.
“You’re trespassing...” the hero in black leapt from atop the truck, “Because I own the night!”
The bags of loot dropped to the ground as all of Vinnie’s thoughts turned to self-preservation. He snapped blindly at the air in front of him with his pincer-hand.
Snap!
Snap!
Crunch!
Vinnie opened his eyes to see that he had caught a black-gloved hand in his pincer. He squeezed.
There was only rage in the hero’s voice as, “You think this hurts? You don’t know the meaning of the word ‘pain’.”
Suddenly grabbed someone Vinnie by the shoulder and swung him around. It was that other guy!
“Someone has a crush on you,” he joked.
Vinnie tried to block the gray-gloved fist that came rocketing towards his face but he was knocked to the ground, his eyes watering, his grip on the other hero lost. He reached for his gun only to have it kicked out of his hand.
*
“Who are you guys?” Vinnie demanded as they tied him to a nearby lamp post.
“I’m Amoeba-Man.” The crime-fighter in black hissed.
“And so am I.” The man in gray chuckled.
“You’re crazy!” Vinnie shouted, “You’re both crazy!”
“Oh yeah?” the man in black hissed.
“Watch this!” the gray suited vigilante said.
If Vinnie the Claw hadn’t seen it himself he would never have believed it. The two Amoeba-Men stepped together and merged. They became a single man, taller, more muscular and dressed in a costume that was both black and gray.
Vinnie slumped against the lamp post, “How did you do that?”
“I told you,” the masked man said, “I’m Amoeba-Man, and if there’s one thing I know how to do it’s divide and conquer.”
Beyond The Pale
by
Al Bruno III
The Lincoln Continental swerved and crashed into a telephone pole. A moment later the Mayor Bellgoody tumbled out of the driver's side door, his clothes were disheveled, his bloated body drenched with terrified sweat; his toupee was barely hanging on, it flapped as he ran.
His secret empire of crime and corruption had been laid open for all the world to see and now he had to get out of River City. All he had to do now was get a hold of another car and with his briefcase full of cash in one hand and a gun in another that wouldn't be any problem at all.
A rushing sound filled the air. Bellgoody's eyes widened in terror. A heartbeat later the masked hero Lightning was standing in front of him blocking the way. Lightning's bright blue costume almost shone in the night, his handsome ebony features were pulled into a triumphant smile, "Going somewhere?"
Lightning was a decorated veteran of the Vietnam war, an experimental super soldier formula had left him with super speed and now he fought to protect the innocent as he tried to come to terms with the lives he took overseas.
Blinded with panic Bellgoody ran into a nearby alley hoping to find a place to hide, a place to escape, but it was a dead end. A figure in a winged metal suit dropped out of the sky, the stylized helmet was designed to have the fierce features of a bird of prey. It was Peregrine. He had invented his rocket armor for use in outer space but then he thought better of it when he realized that the Man was never going to let a black man go into space. Another member of the damned Midnight Marvels- could the rest be far behind?
"Listen," the Mayor said, "I have almost two million dollars here, you can take it all. Just let me go."
"Two million dollars?" A voice from a nearby fire escape hissed. It was Black Ice the cold hand of justice, his dark purple costume was featureless, even the mask he wore hid his entire face from view. No one knew where he came from or who he was, he was a mystery even to his teammates. He wore a specialized gauntlet on one arm that fired bursts of dark frost, "Is that the money you made selling junk to schoolchildren? Or from your prostitution ring?"
The three heroes were drawing in closer, Bellgoody tried to muster a laugh, "Does it matter? It's money you could do anything with it. Give it away to all your friends in the ghetto, I don't care, just let me go. I can't go to prison. I can't!"
Black Ice jumped from the fire escape, "Prison is the least of your worries. You'll get the chair for what you did."
There was a roar and a gold plated motorcycle skidded to a halt in the alley. Apocalypse Jones she had a gun in each hand, her ebony skin was marked with dozens of cuts and bruises. "You!" Bellgoody shouted, "You're alive?"
"Alive and kickin' sugar," she grinned but there was a limp in her step. She had come to the 1970's from a future that had been destroyed by war, zombies and worse.
"Hey guys," a thick set man in spandex and wearing a cape brought up the rear. It was Lightning's partner, Thunder. Thunder had been on the path to becoming the world's first black sumo wrestler but after his brother had overdosed on drugs he had turned his attentions to cleaning up River City, "Save some of that cracker for me."
Black Ice cackled, "Plenty to go around."
That pushed Bellgoody to the breaking point, he spun and fired at the frozen hand of justice, the bullet catching him in the shoulder.
Then there was a second shot and Mayor Bellgoody fell to the pavement, a wide hole where his forehead had been. Apocalypse Jones blew smoke from the barrel of her gun, "You're history sucka."
"Damn," Lightning said, "whatever happened to a warning shot?"
"I just saved the city the cost of an execution."
Thunder ran over to Black Ice, "Are you OK?"
"Yeah yeah," he gazed at his torn costume, "just a flesh wound."
Thunder's jaw dropped, "What th- guys get over here!"
The rest of the team approached, they were all stunned.
"What?" Black Ice said, "Is it worse than I thought?"
"Take off your mask," Peregrine said.
Black Ice sounded incredulous, "No. I'm-"
But Lightning was too fast, he whipped off the other hero's mask. Apocalypse Jones dropped her gun in surprise. Thunder's voice was a whisper, "You're white?"
The frozen hand of justice shrugged, "So?"
"I can't believe this is happening..." Peregrine buried his face in his hands, "Dolemite's never gonna let us live this down,"
"What's the big deal?" Black Ice said again, "And give me back my mask."
"What's the big deal?" Apocalypse Jones shouted, "We're all black."
"So? I don't mind."
Thunder turned away and turned back, "You don't mind? We're 'the Midnight Marvels', we're an all black superhero team!"
"We are?" Black Ice's brow furrowed in confusion.
"That's why we call ourselves 'the Midnight Marvels' for God's sake."
"Oh," he blushed, "I thought it was more if a thematic thing."
Lightning had to laugh, he threw the featureless mask to the other hero, "Thematic?"
"What are you guys saying exactly?" Black Ice asked, "Are you kicking me out?"
The silence that followed was long and uncomfortable. The Midnight Marvels exchanged helpless glances. A rat had come out of a nearby alleyway to sniff at Mayor Bellgoody's corpse. No one noticed.
Peregrine was the first to come out and say it, "Yes."
"But that's discrimination!" Black Ice cried.
Curse Of The Reddeath
by
Al Bruno III
More than a dozen voices rose up, united in a single scream. The lights flickered plunging the small auditorium into momentary darkness and then rose up again. Lisa Brown blundered from the piano bench and stared out into the audience. From her place on the stage she had a perfect view.
Dead, they were all dead. Her parents, her brothers, her sister, her uncles and aunts, even her Nana, all dead slumped in their seats and lightly smoldering. They had all been here for her piano recital. She was nine years old and her entire family was gone, the thought took her breath away.
“Think of all the money you'll save on the holidays.” a voice said from beside her, it was bleak and cruel, the breath that carried it smelled like a grave.
And now Lisa did scream. She hadn't heard the stranger approach but she recognized him. He wore robes the color of blood and his mask was the color of bones; it was the Reddeath. Lisa had grown up in a world of costumed heroes and villains, she had seen the capture of Megaton Minotaur on live television, Mr. Nice Guy had visited her school to give a talk about good citizenship, and it seemed like every day you could see the Legion of Protectors zooming overhead heading for one adventure or another.
The Reddeath was not a costumed troublemaker, not a bank robber or jewel thief with a gift for the flamboyant, he was a monster pure and simple; and he was looming over her. Lisa felt her skin crawling, when she spoke her voice was so small, “Why?”
“Your Uncle Josh has something I need, the keys to the vault containing the black scrolls of Nepren-Ka, ” his smile was wide, too wide. Lisa thought for a crazy moment he was going to eat her up. “I couldn't just ask him for it could I?”
“You didn't have to kill them,” the tears were coming but she fought them back.
“Oh. I didn't kill them, ” the Reddeath gestured to the piano, “I put sensors under the keys. One sour note was all it took to send a fatal charge to their seats. You killed them.”
Lisa gasped, the gasp became a sob.
“You should have practiced more.”
Her tear-filled eyes filled with hate; her Daddy had sent her to Tai-Kwon-Do classes over the summer. She swung her fist with all her might hitting the Reddeath in the stomach. He stumbled back. Lisa turned to run but he lurched forward and grabbed hold of her. His nails had been filed down to points, they dug into the flesh of her shoulder. Then he shoved her into the piano, Lisa struck her head on the hard wood and fell down. Her temple ached and bled.
“I was going to let you live...” The Reddeath drew a pistol from beneath his robes, “I was going to leave you with such a story to tell. But you're a naughty girl. You don't respect your elders.”
Lisa stared down the barrel of the gun, blood stinging her left eye; she wasn't afraid to die- what did she have to live for? She was alone. Cursed.
A commotion erupted just offstage, Lisa turned to see the thugs had fallen; a caped figure in silver and black standing over them, his cowl made it seem like he had no face at all, “What have you done?” his voice was like thunder.
It was ShadoMask, the defender of River City. Moving with the grace of an acrobat and the speed of a gazelle he flipped and tumbled until he was at the edge of the stage. He pulled a weighted rope from his utility belt and began spinning it round and round until it hummed. The monster in red pulled Lisa to her feet and held her close, “No further hero. No further,” he dug the pistol into her cheek.
The hero stood his ground, “Enough people have died tonight, You let that girl go or you'll pay. By all that I hold sacred you'll pay.”
The Reddeath laughed, “Empty promises, Your honor is worth more to you than a thousand little girls.”
“Do you want to test me?”
The two men glared at each other. Lisa had had enough, the Reddeath's arm was around her throat, she lowered her head and bit down as hard as she could. The monster in red screamed. ShadMask threw his bolo and it caught the Reddeath's gun hand wrenching it away from her. A heartbeat later the defender of River City knocked the Reddeath out with a single punch.
After that everything became a confusion of uniformed officers and pitying glances. Lisa let them wrap her in a blanket and take her to the police station, but no matter how many people crowded around her she felt alone, utterly alone.
A handsome well dressed men walked into the room, he knelt beside her and explained that he was Robert Raymond an old friend of Uncle Josh. Lisa didn’t know him but the name was slightly familiar... wasn't he some local millionaire? Robert Raymond asked her if she wanted to come home to him, to meet his son Kevin and maybe stay a while while until her future was sorted out.
Lisa didn't want to think about the future and she didn't suspect know she would soon learn that the kind, sqare-jawed man taking her in was the defender of River City, she couldn't know that she would someday follow in his footsteps and adopt a secret identity of her own.
All she did know is that she would never play the piano again.
Mask Of The Reddeath
by
Al Bruno III
Just an old man, dying and alone in a mansion that had once been so alive with voices and activity. Rob Raymond was content with that. After all he had lived an amazing life, full of adventure and excitement. He had always thought he would die young and in a blaze of glory like so many of his contemporaries, but he had outlived them all.
He spent most of his time in his study reading, listening to music and occasionally sleeping in his favorite chair. When he was hungry- and that was a rare thing now- he would shuffle down to the kitchen and open a can of anything and eat it uncooked. Once there had been servants to wait on him hand and foot but Rob had sent them away with generous severance packages and glowing recommendations.
On the last night of his life he wandered through the darkened study wearing his silk pajamas and thick purple bathrobe. He would pause before each of his mementoes to smile or frown in remembrance;
…a black gauntlet festooned with wires and missing a finger.
…a framed newspaper page, the headline CRIME SPREE ENDS IN DEATH hovers above a grainy black and white photograph of two dark figures lurching off of a rooftop.
…the bronzed skull of a gorilla.
…a wall of medals.
…a green scarf with a drop of blood.
…a framed photograph, old friends around a round table, all but one of them is looking at the camera.
Rob paused at that photograph until finally he took it down and stared long and hard at the time lost faces. His friends, like his adversaries, were all gone now. His wife had passed away years ago and his son hadn't spoken to him in years. Rob’s adopted daughter tried to keep in touch but she was always traveling, always busy.
And that was just as well wasn’t it? Would he really have wanted to have them fussing over him at this stage and trying to make amends for long forgotten disagreements.
A loud crash from downstairs and the sounds of shuffling footsteps shook him from his thoughts. The manor’s intercom system crackled to life, “You could not wait for death but I found you, oh I found you.”
Goosebumps ran over Rob’s skin at the sound of that voice.
There was no time to get to any of the still functioning keepsakes from his old life but he always kept one thing he still kept close at hand. He pulled the cowl from the pocket of his bathrobe
It was silken and black and conformed perfectly to cover his face, when he wore it he could see in the dark and breathe in conditions that would kill a normal man. He still didn’t know where the fabric had come from or how it had been created.
With his features hidden he felt the old confidence return and the mundane agonies he had become so familiar with over the last six months seemed to fade away.
He was ShadoMask again.
“Are you hiding?” The voice said, “Be honest now. You were always a little scared of me weren’t you? You think you’re so special.”
The door of the room splintered and fell open and figures shambled in. ShadoMask charged not even paying attention to anything more than the position of his attackers. They were just shapes to him, obstacles. Weakened as he was every swing of his arm or sweep of the leg was pushed him closer to nausea and exhaustion. The room seemed to tilt sideways around him.
Chuckling echoed through the manor, “Do you like them? They’re hand picked. I went to so much trouble.”
ShadoMask began to realize that not matter how much force he put behind his punches and kicks his adversaries stayed silent, impossibly silent.
They weren’t even breathing.
Then he realized.
There was the American – fourteen years dead from a car crash but still dressed in red, white and blue. And the crime lord Dragonfist was an arm's length away, he had died in the electric chair almost a generation ago but here he was blind and stumbling. Merlin Man was waiting just outside the doorway, his gadget laden top hat was gone and his costume was in tatters. He reeked of the grave.
They all reeked of the grave, or worse.
“What have you done?” ShadoMask’s voice was a whisper, then a shout, “Reddeath! What have you done?”
His old adversary purred at the sound of his name being spoken, “The black scrolls of Nephren-Ka old friend. I finally managed to liberate them, finally managed to have some real time alone with then. Oh such wonders, such wonders…”
The Reddeath had always been obsessed with the black scrolls of Nephren-Ka, he had committed atrocities in his pursuit of them and ShadoMask had stopped him every time.
But he was supposed to be dead. ShadoMask had seen the crimson cloaked menace fall from the gondola of an invisible zeppelin decades ago.
“Do you think this is what it’s like to have your life pass before your eyes?”
With a cry of rage ShadoMask pushed through the doorway into the hall to find it crowded with long lost friends and enemies. They closed in but he fought back sending them tumbling down the stairs in groups of three and four.
“I’m right on doorstep old friend,” the Reddeath said, “Can you reach me? Do you want to reach me?”
ShadoMask had to laugh, “Oh I’ll reach you all right.”
But there were so many shapes bearing down on him;
…the Silver Claw, his head drooping at an obscene angle his pirate suit hanging off his tattered frame. His own henchmen had turned on him after growing tired of his increasingly elaborate nautical themed crimes.
…the Brat, with his faux schoolboy outfit and his wizened expression. He had retired after a long prison sentence, even written a self-published memoir about his life of crime only to shoot himself when the scheme left him bankrupt.
…the teen wonder Arachni-kid, his features forever young, the track marks on his arms hidden by his gaudy costume. He had showed so much promise.
…Mr. Nice Guy’s smiley face costume was even more ludicrous in death, he had been a failure at fighting crime but a his child safety videos were still shown in schools all across the globe. A heart attack had claimed him as he answered fan mail, the rumor he had been found with a beatific grin.
… ShadoFace’s mask was made from a flawed facsimile of the fabric ShadoMask’s cowl had been made from. A chemical instability in had left his face burned and twisted. He had eventually died in a madhouse.
…Julie was last, still dressed in her funeral finery. The sight of her caused her husband to falter and she managed to claw his cowl from his face…
Rob was weeping as he knocked the walking corpse down the stairs, he could hear her bones shatter as they hit the landing. Reddeath was leaning in the doorway. Even in his blood-colored robes and skull mask he seemed sickly. “Oh,” he said. “Very good. Like the old times, the good times.”
Unlike the horror movie cliché none of the bodies Rob had fought his way past stirred, that part of the game was over. He charged his old adversary, his bathrobe fluttering around him.
Then the pain flared up, not the constant mundane ache of the cancer, but a bolt of cold fire that bloomed out of his chest and rand down one of his arms leaving it numb and useless. He cursed, vowing that it would not end like this. He forced himself to keep moving towards his enemy.
One step…
Two…
Three…
His legs failed him and he collapsed at the Reddeath’s feet. Rob couldn’t catch his breath and his vision was darkening. The Reddeath loomed over him and Rob managed to speak one last time and those final words surprised them both.
“Thank you.”
The Big Leagues
by
Al Bruno III
Nine TV screens cast pale light over the masked woman in the comfortable high-backed chair. Computer readouts scrolled across the bottom of each video feed. The control panel before her was a mass of switches and dials with a single red button in the center. The woman wore a purple costume that concealed everything but her luxurious red hair. In this identity she was called the Maven and this was her first night of monitor duty on the topmost floor of Guardian Tower.
Guardian Tower was the most famous structure in Megalopolis City, perhaps even the world. It was the base of operations for the Legion Of Protectors as well as a super hero museum and sprawling gift shop that hundreds of tourists visited every day.
This was the big time. After years of fighting crime in River City the Maven’s abilities had come to the attention of Commander Infinity himself. He had told her how proud he would be if he could have the world’s greatest detective by his side.
How could she say no to an offer like that? From her first day the world’s most powerful super team had treated her like an equal. They had presented her with a silver Legion of Protectors communicator badge and her very own office.
Then she took the Legion Vow, “To defend mankind from threats above, below and beyond.”
Something on one of the screens caught her eye. The Maven leaned forward, taking the situation in.
This was it!
She hit the button in the center of the control panel calling the active members of the Legion to duty.
Within seconds the Blue Bolt was there. He could run at the speed of sound and wore a suit of azure armor that protected him from attacks and high-speed collisions with bugs. Even with his super speed he would have been the first one there, he had been living at the tower since his messy divorce.
The Math-Magician appeared in a flash of algorithms. She didn’t wear a standard costume, just her street clothes hidden beneath a full length brown robe. She wore a hood that hid her short blonde hair and dark horn-rimmed glasses concealed her eyes. She was a master of Advanced Lovecraftian Trigonometry, a mathematics so extreme that it could alter the very fabric of reality. Her voice was frosty, “I was in the middle of dinner.”
An arm flew into the monitor room, followed by a leg and a torso and then a head. It was Dismembro, possibly the most disgusting super hero ever; he had the power to bloodlessly remove parts of his body and send them flying this way and that. He rarely spoke, mainly because he disguised himself by keeping his nose, eyebrows and lips stored in his utility belt.
Mighty Woman dropped through an access point in the ceiling. The gold alien armor she wore gave her strange powers and abilities and hid all but her pale blue eyes from view. There were some people that resented her being on the team because of her extreme right wing conservative views but her beliefs had almost no impact on the team whatsoever- except of course for her long running feud with Wavy Gravy.
Commander Infinity was the last to arrive but the Maven was sure he had been close by all along. One of the monitor room’s floor length windows slid open and he hovered towards her. There was a neutral expression on his regal features, his red and yellow costume gleamed like polished metal. His cape was tossed casually over one shoulder. “What’s the emergency?” his voice was a deep baritone, it seemed to reverberate through the room.
“A group of Furry Separatists have taken control of the city museum,” the Maven explained, “they have hostages.”
“Furry Separatists?” the Math-Magician sounded incredulous.
“They’re an obscure but deadly group,” the Maven explained, “I’ve dealt with them before.”
The Blue Bolt looked more closely at the monitor screen, “Do they have any hi-tech weapons or super powers?”
“What’s the difference?” the Maven said, “Shouldn’t we get going?”
“No,” Commander Infinity shook his head. He was still hovering, “This is a police matter.”
Dismembro’s head and arms hovered over the monitor station checking the readouts, “She had the settings too high.”
“People are in danger!” the Maven couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Commander Infinity hovered closer, “You’ve forgotten your vow. To defend mankind from threats above, below and beyond. The Legion exists to defend the Earth-”
“And the moon!” Dismembro added.
“-and the moon from external threats. We are not here to defend mankind from itself.”
The Blue Bolt tapped the monitor screen, “We don’t get involved in police matters.”
“But...” the Maven said.
Commander Infinity explained, “If we start down that road then municipal authorities and worse yet- the general public will start expecting us to stop every bank robbery and put out every fire.”
“But...”
Mighty Woman agreed, “We’re super heroes, not community activists.”
“And what happens the one day we don’t get there in time?” Commander Infinity continued, “Public scorn, lawsuits and scathing editorials. This isn’t the way we do things.”
For a few seconds the Maven tried to convince herself that this was some kind of prank or hazing ritual but when you’re the world’s greatest detective you can’t be fooled by anyone, especially not yourself.
Didn’t that explain why there were no stories about the Legion of Protectors foiling robberies or taking time out to rescue kittens from trees?
She felt a pang of regret when she removed the Legion badge from her costume and handed it back to Commander Infinity. “I’m sorry but this isn’t the way I do things.”
The world’s mightiest super team watched as she leapt out the open window and caught her grapple line on a nearby building. The Maven swung in a wide arc making her way towards the city museum.
Holding For A Hero
by
Al Bruno III
“Thank you for calling Prime Computer Technical Support. My name is Vince, how may I help you?”
The customer was ranting and raving from the moment the greeting was over. Vince Marlowe adjusted his headset, leaned back in his chair and let the complaints wash over him. Years of experience had taught him that any attempts to move the conversation forward before the end users litany of grievances was over only aggravated matters. Sadly upper management didn’t understand that, they lived and died by the call times.
“Well I am very sorry to hear about this. Now when you say your computer ‘Doesn’t Go’ what exactly do you mean? The monitor says ‘No Connection’? I see...”
A faint buzzing sound began to echo through his half-cubicle. Thankfully no one else noticed. Pagers and cell phones were forbidden on the call center floor- as were snack foods, reading materials and just about anything else that might make the day bearable. Vince pulled the flashing badge from the pocket of his slacks.
“Excuse me madam,” he said, “could you please hold?”
*
The Blue Bolt sped through the streets of Megalopolis City. His costume was bright blue, save for the clear visor of his helmet, and it was made from a special reenforced friction-resistant material that helped him reach speeds of over 700 miles per hour.
Not that he ever moved that quickly within the city limits, he was very conscious of property damage and shattered windows.
There was a mass of figures up ahead, all dressed in shades of black and brown and marching in tight formation. It was the Vole Men, they were attacking the surface world once more. The Blue Bolt put on a little more speed, he had to act fast. His team, the Legion of Protectors, was currently shorthanded. He still couldn’t believe the Maven had just up and quit and moved back to River City.
The Vole Men were pale and noseless, they wore armor made from stone and carried lances that fired bolts of magma. There was a giant monster bringing up the rear of the strange army, it was scaly with an oversized mouth. It was called a thrombor and the Blue Bolt had never seen one on the surface before. A giant saddle had been chained to its back and Emperor Burrows, Lord of the Inner Earth, was seated there. The strange little man shouted orders from an elaborately designed megaphone.
The front lines of the invading army saw the super speedster heading their way and fired. The Blue Bolt wove easily around each blast of lava. A fifth of a moment later he was in the midst of them. He pulled the magma lances from the first dozen Vole Men’s hands before they could react, then he brought them down with a flurry of punches.
The rest of the Vole Men fired, more afraid of the wrath of the Emperor than they were of hitting their fellow soldiers. The Blue Bolt ducked and weaved but a splash of lava caught him on the shoulder. Pain and heat flared but the velocity he was moving at quickly cooled the molten rock down.
The Blue Bolt ran to the edges of the Vole Man formation and began to run around it in tight circles, moving faster and faster creating an artificial tornado. It sent Vole Men flying in every direction.
The invading army began to break formation, trying to retreat. Emperor Burrows cursed with outrage and then shouted something at his monstrous mount.
The thrombor roared and a wave of heat washed out from its mouth. It destroyed the last remnants of the Vole Man army but it also turned the asphalt of the street into a thick liquid goo. It caught the Blue Bolt by surprise. He stumbled and fell.
Emperor Burrows goaded the giant beast into a charge. The ground shook, the thrombor smashed cars underfoot. The Blue Bolt raised himself to his feet, the asphalt clung to him dragging at his legs like quicksand.
Thinking quickly the Blue Bolt began to spin his arms in tight circles until he heard the familiar POP of the sound barrier breaking.
Twin shafts of concussive force arced out from his hands and caught the thrombor at the knees. It crashed forward knocking itself unconscious. The impact sent the Emperor of the Inner Earth flying from his saddle.
The Blue Bolt drew back his fist and threw a left hook at normal speed. He wanted Burrows to see this one coming.
*
“Thank you again for holding ma’am,” Vince Marlowe said as he sat back down in his seat. The timer on his phone told him he had been gone for a little more than five minutes. There would be Hell to pay with his supervisor later but there was nothing he could do about that. He paused before he spoke again and looked down at himself to make sure everything looked OK. The worst thing about changing your clothes at super speed was that you would sometimes throw your shirt on inside out or worse yet put your boxers on outside of your briefs.
Mistakes like that were what had led to his divorce.
“Well, please let me explain,” Vince continued, “what you are seeing is the monitor’s way of telling you it isn’t getting any signal from your CPU... a CPU is a computer... yes the thing under your desk...”
The other members of the Legion of Protectors had arrived just as he was leaving. Vince had been glad to leave them to clean up what was left of the Vole Men’s forces. He’d never had the patience for repairs and talking to the Press.
“Yes ma’am, the computer needs to be turned on. The button should be...” Vince’s voice trailed off as he heard his Legion of Protectors badge start to beep once more. He rolled his eyes, so much for this month’s performance review.
“Please hold.”
Good Knight Claire
by
Al Bruno III
(the Acrobatic Flea was created by Tim Knight)
this story is dedicated to the memory of Elizabeth Sladen
The trip from the United States to England took eight hours. Bill Kane had chosen to travel coach, he kept his bag of carry on luggage in his lap the entire way. The cab ride from Heathrow airport to the city of Muldwych Point took another hour. Once he had checked in to his hotel room he removed the red and blue spandex from the secret lining of his suitcase and slowly put it on. Before he donned his mask and became Captain Hero he added a plain black armband to his costume.
*
The buildings of Muldwych Point were further apart than he had expected and it took Captain Hero half and hour to find the proper rhythm for leaping from rooftop to rooftop.
The city of Muldwych Point was famous for two things; its cheese and its superheroes. The cheese was a sharp, smoky cheddar variant made exclusively from the milk of fainting goats.
It’s superheroes were no less unusual. There were four of them and they worked together to defend England from dragons, mutants and aliens. They called themselves 'the Muldwych Knights' and there were four of them; the Acrobatic Flea, Girlizard, Dr. Hercules PhD and Grant Barwyden.
There were four of them... Captain Hero thought with a frown. He fired a grapple line, made sure it had caught hold of the nearby office building and swung.
He knew he was being followed but he decided to bide his time.
*
There was a tower in the center of the city. It had been built in the 1960’s to house a computerized telecommunications system. It had been abandoned a few years later after the computerized telecommunications system became sentient and tried to take over the world with giant robots.
Now it was the headquarters of the Muldwych Knights. From the ledge of a nearby apartment building Captain Hero watched the citizens standing vigil. The had surrounded the base of the tower with cards, flowers and other symbols of grief. The spectacle was as heartwarming as it was sad, it hammered home to Captain Hero the utter finality of this situation.
His years of crime-fighting had taught him that superhero deaths were like celebrity weddings- they rarely stuck, but this time felt different, terribly different. This was no hoax or imaginary story, Claire Heath aka Girlizard was dead.
A slender figure dropped onto the ledge beside Captain Hero, bounced a few times and then settled down. He wore a green costume and mask that was complimented by red boots, matching gloves and dark oversized goggles. Even though his mask covered his entire face the little antenna attached to his goggles betrayed his expressions, “If it isn't Captain Mid-life Crisis!”
“How's are you insect?” Captain Hero turned to look at the man beside him, the high-jumping super hero that called himself the Acrobatic Flea.
“Like I want to punch someone.”
“Don’t get any funny ideas,” Captain Hero said. He and the Acrobatic Flea had fought on several occasions, mainly due to misunderstandings or mind control but their last most terrible battle had been over Girlizard. This was the first time they had spoken since.
Of course we both fell for her. He thought. She was sweet and sassy and she could turn into a nine foot dinosaur.
“How are the others?” Captain Hero asked.
The Acrobatic Flea rubbed the back of his neck, “Doc Herc is acting like nothing happened and Grant... well Grant is Grant.”
“And what about you? How are you holding up?”
“I don't...” The Acrobatic Flea sighed, “...I don't know if I...”
The sound of an explosion rocked the night. The two costumed heroes looked to the Muldwych Point bank. “Speaking of holding up,” Captain Hero said.
*
The super criminal known as Black Pudding waded through the flames and wreckage. He was an obese, pink-skinned nightmare in a dark suit. He extruded tentacles at will, tearing the vault door off its hinges and tossing it casually aside.
The two masked heroes stood near the bank’s ruined entrance. Captain Hero asked as he thumbed through his utility belt, “What is that?”
“Black Pudding,” the Acrobatic Flea said, “he’s a shoggoth.”
“You don’t say?”
Black Pudding grabbed several sacks of money and absorbed them into his bulbous torso. Sirens and alarms began to fill the air. Neither crime-fighter liked to think about the chances the local authorities would have against this villain.
“Last year there was a community theater performance of Macbeth,” the Acrobatic Flea explained, “it was so bad it tore a hole in the fabric of reality and this wanker came through.”
Black Pudding turned to see the two heroes blocking his way, he roared and oozed in all directions. A gleaming black tentacle lashed out at the Acrobatic Flea but the hero was already leaping through the air, his wrist blasters firing.
Since the Acrobatic Flea was going high Captain Hero went low tossing a handful of concussion grenades at Black Pudding’s feet.
The attacks splattered parts of the shoggoth in all directions. In his rage he began tearing the bank down around himself- and the heroes.
Bounding through the flying wreckage the Acrobatic flea pulled the other crime-fighter back out into the street.
“Something tells me-” Captain Hero coughed, “-we’re going to be late for the wake.”
“You know,” the Acrobatic Flea adjusted his wrist blasters again, “I loved her man. Really loved her.”
“I know,” Captain Hero said, “I did too.”
Black Pudding burst out of the wreckage his body swollen and bristling with limbs, tendrils and mouths. He was making all the standard threats but neither of his adversaries paid attention.
“I wonder what she would say,” Captain Hero mused, “if she could see us working together.”
The Acrobatic Flea chuckled, “I think she’d say something like- ‘Kick his ass boys.’”
Laughing they charged into battle once more.
A Penny Earned
by
Al Bruno III
(the Acrobatic Flea was created by Tim Knight)
Over the years the tower in the center of the city had come to be known as the Citadel Of Champions but no one could remember whose idea it had been to do so. It hadn’t been the citizens or the municipal authorities, it hadn’t even been the team of superheroes that made it their base of operations. The name just, for lack of a better explanation, happened, but then again when it came to the city of Muldwych, England things ‘just happened’ all the time.
Perhaps it was because the city had been built on the site of a rift between worlds, or perhaps it was because the municipal park had been built over a mad druid burial ground, it even might have been because of the strange events that had caused the walls of the observatory to drip with jam.
Whatever the cause there always seemed to be something happening to keep the heroes known as the Muldwych Knights busy.
Tonight was no different. The remaining members of the Knights had been in the conference room when the Citadel’s intruder alert went wild. The three men sprang into action, showing far more enthusiasm for unknown danger than they had for this month’s budget meeting. They spread out, Dr. Hercules covered the lower levels, Grant Mandelbrot headed for the upper floors and the Acrobatic Flea searched the ground floor.
The Acrobatic Flea wore a green costume and full face mask, his oversized red goggles gleamed. He bounced from one hallway to the next until he found the intruder.
“Why is it...” he began, “...you nitwits always go right for the memorabilia room?”
The memorabilia room was where trophies from the team’s different adventures were kept under glass alongside marble statues that honored the past members of the organization. They were all represented- even Captain Hero.
The intruder casually pushed over one of the statues. It shattered. “Hey!” the Acrobatic Flea cried.
“You should be worrying about yourself,” the intruder said. She was a short woman with a mop of curly red hair. She was wearing an ankle length frilly blue dress with a white apron. She raised her left hand and the copper-colored nails of each finger extended six inches, “My name is Penny Dreadful and I’m here to kill you. I’m here to kill all of you.”
The Acrobatic Flea leapt at her, his wrist blasters firing. She spun and flipped out of the way. Penny Dreadful slashed three times at the hero, the second swipe of her nails catching him on the forearm.
“I don’t believe it!” he cried.
She grinned, her smile was crooked and ugly “Impressed?”
“No. I mean I’ve never seen a female assassin that wasn’t dressed like a stripper. I just can’t believe it.”
With that she charged him, a flurry of spin kicks, nail swipes and flashing polka-dot bloomers. The Acrobatic Flea leapfrogged over her and ricocheted off the wall.
Then that wall exploded outwards. Dr. Hercules PhD stormed into the room, causing the rest of the statues to topple domino style. His seven foot tall, broadly muscled physique was covered by a three-piece pinstripe suit and bowler derby. “I do not know who you are but surrender and do not be obstreperous. Obstreperousness will not be tolerated so be not obstreperous!”
“Just get her!” the Acrobatic Flea shouted, “Or I swear to God I’m gonna hide your word-a-day calendar!”
The Olympian with an honorary doctorate swung a massive arm at Penny Dreadful. She vaulted over it and raked her nails across his face drawing blood. He cried out in surprise for he had thought nothing short of an exploding shell could break his skin.
The two heroes tried to coordinate their attacks but their motions became sluggish. The Acrobatic Flea’s leaps became less and less amazing until he blundered and fell. Moments later Dr. Hercules crashed into a display case and slid down against the wall.
“What’s...” the Acrobatic Flea began.
“...happening?” Dr. Hercules finished.
“There’s a neurotoxic venom under her mithrl laced nails.” Grant Mandelbrot walked calmly into the room, “Am I right?”
Penny Dreadful turned to glare at him. Grant Mandelbrot was thin and bald, he wore jeans and a cream-colored turtleneck sweater. “The last of the team,” she smirked, “and the least.”
“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Grant crossed his arms over his chest and smirked back.
“...oh look...” the Acrobatic Flea mumbled, “...he’s doing the smug thing...”
The assassin sprung at Grant. Before her nails could connect he burst into a cloud of shimmering powder and reformed behind her.
“How did you?” Penny Dreadful spun back to face him.
“...he became his essential saltes...” Dr. Hercules explained as he slipped in and out of consciousness.
“...and that’s saltes with an ‘e’...” the Acrobatic Flea added.
Penny Dreadful and Grant Mandelbrot drew closer. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, “I’ve brought down the best.”
“That you have,” Grant said, “you have quite the reputation.”
“Flattery?” she laughed, “Is that all you have left in your bag of tricks?”
Grant shifted into dust and floated around her in lazy circles, letting her swipe at him. He said, “One last trick.”
When he reformed again he looked different, he was stoop-shouldered, scarred and dressed in black. Penny Dreadful stopped dead in her tracks, “You? But you’re the one that hired me.”
“I had to see if your reputation was well-deserved.”
Penny Dreadful retracted her nails, “This is insane.”
“...seconded...” the Acrobatic Flea chimed in then began to snore.
“The Knights need a new fourth member,” Grant explained, “I want you on the team.”
“What?” the assassin began to leave, “You’ve wasted your time and money hero.”
“I know your heart,” Grant shifted back to his normal shape as he called after her, “I know what you’re running from.”
“Go to Hell,” she called back.
“We offer full medical coverage,” he added.
Penny Dreadful paused, one eyebrow raising, “And dental?”