Society of Heroes with Indeterminate Talent

by Sebastian H. Alive

  "My lord!" gasped Agent Two fighting for breath as Ethel hurtled through the air and tackled the thief to the ground.

  She straddled him and pounded his face with her fists as the bag snatcher screeched out in pain.

  "Get her off me!" he cried trying desperately to defend himself from the flurry of her blows.

  Agent Two reached them just as she delivered a crunching elbow straight to his mouth.

  "Ethel, Ethel," soothed Agent Two, laying a hand on her frail shoulder. "He's had enough!"

  Her head snapped back with her lips curled back almost feral like and he saw the madness in her eyes and took a startled step back.

  "It's me Ethel!"

  Recognition flooded her eyes and Ethel blinked a few times with her fist poised in the air ready to strike another blow. Gently Agent Two offered her his hand and helped her off the bruised and bloodied thief.

  "What the hell is she?" cried the thief turning his head and spitting a tooth onto the ground.

  "I don’t know for sure," replied Agent Two scratching his head. "But she's remarkably fast and has the reflexes of a cheetah. Sort of like an out-of-date ninja."

  "She's insane, she should be locked up." he whimpered, flinching away from Ethel who growled menacingly.

  "The bag." said Agent Two holding out his hand and waggling his fingers.

  The thief tossed him the bag which he caught then turned to face Ethel.

  "How did you move like that?" he asked.

  "Senior Pilates and water aerobics," she answered. "It keeps me light on my feet."

  "Ahhhh," answered Agent Two still frowning. "Say, who's holding Gary up?"

  "Oh my!" cried Ethel as she turned and ran over to Gary who was face down on the platform.

  "Smash him up mum!" said the muffled voice of Gary.

  They helped him into an upright position then Agent Two wandered over to the woman whose bag had been stolen.

  "Here you go, ma'am." he said, before walking back over to Gary and Ethel.

  "Peppermint?" snarled Ethel thrusting the packet under his nose.

  "Why yes, very kind of you Ethel." said Agent Two plucking a mint from the packet and popping it into his mouth quickly.

  5.

  Day-light robbery at the jewelers

  Max pulled the black balaclava down over his head and adjusted the eyeholes before staring at his three accomplices huddled in the back of the battered Ford transit van.

  "Balaclavas, gentlemen." he ordered.

  Nodding grimly the men tugged the woolen masks down over their faces, awaiting further instructions.

  "Remember just like we discussed already." said Max holding up a gloved finger. "This is a smash-and-grab and you got yourself three minutes, no more. It's very simple, get to the display cases, smash them, grab what you can and stash in your bags. Tom will be waiting outside with the engine running. In one-hundred and eighty seconds he leaves, and if you don’t make it, he goes without you. Make it quick, don’t lose your heads in there and if we pull this off we're rich men, do you all understand?"

  The men looked at one another then nodded their heads in understanding.

  "Good, okay, now for a final equipment check. We got new plates on the van?"

  "Check!" said a muffled voice.

  "Watches?"

  "Check!"

  "Duffle bags?"

  "Check!"

  "Baseball bats?"

  "Check!"

  "Gun?"

  "Check!" said a man pointing the handgun at Max's temple.

  "Bradley, please remove the barrel of the gun from my head," said Max in exasperation.

  Dutifully Bradley lowered the weapon and shrugged his shoulders.

  "Why are you fidgeting with your mask, Bob?" asked Max staring across at another one of his accomplices who was pulling the fabric away from his face.

  "It feels quite claustrophobic wearing this balaclava," he muttered. "Plus I don’t like the moisture of my breath against the inside fabric."

  "That's such a terrible inconvenience to you Bob, and I hope during this uncomfortable and difficult time for you that you can persevere so you can participate in this armed robbery and conceal your face. Anyone else have a problem with the balaclavas?"

  "My head is pretty big and I don’t feel claustrophobic at all."

  "Excellent David, what about you Brad?" asked Max gritting his teeth.

  "As headgear goes, it's lovely and soft on the neck in my opinion. I like the overall size and feel."

  "All right guys, enough of the balaclava talk," spat Max shaking his head. "Do we have any further questions?"

  "Will they have Rolex's in there?" asked David raising his hand.

  "Yes, I'm sure they have a Rolex's, David."

  "If there's a Rolex, please let me have it. I never owned one of them before."

  Max pulled out a pen and scrawled it down on a notepad furiously then looked up.

  "Would anyone else like a watch?" he asked.

  "I'd like a Cartier." piped Bradley, thrusting his arm high into the air.

  "A Cartier? It adds a dash of elegance, good choice." said Max massaging his temples in slow circular movements.

  "If possible, one with a Mother of Pearl dial." added Bradley.

  Max set the pen down and there was silence in the back of the van.

  "I want some ear rings," remarked Bob. "Not for me, for the girlfriend."

  "You want ear rings?"

  "Yeah!" said Bob nodding his head. "She likes the big gold hoop earring things."

  "Gentlemen, this is not supermarket sweep. You don’t get to keep mementos of the day. We have buyers waiting to pay us in cash for our haul today and the only barrier stopping us from getting out hands on the cash is the owner of the big jewelry shop we're parked outside, you know, that guy that has all the stuff we're going to steal. We have a job to do and we're going to carry out that job quickly and professionally. Do we all understand what is required?"

  "Yeah, we get it." mumbled Bob. "It would have been nice though, Alice would have been really made up with some hoops."

  "Here's a thought, why don’t you buy her some nice and shiny ear rings with your share of the cash from this job?"

  "Suppose so." grumbled Bob.

  "Right then, all set your watches to one hundred and eighty seconds countdown." said Max lifting his left wrist up and setting the timer.

  After a moment he looked up and saw Bradley peering closely at the face of his watch, pressing a button on the side repeatedly.

  "Are you struggling there?" asked Max.

  "It's the glove," replied Bradley. "I can't seem to press the button to set it."

  "Temporarily remove the glove, Brad. There's a good boy."

  He yanked off the glove and fumbled at the watch for a few seconds until David reached over his shoulder and tried to help him.

  "No, no I can do it." said Bradley shrugging the hand away in irritation before returning to the watch.

  After a few minutes he looked up and nodded his head.

  "Good, now when the alarm sounds you get out of that shop with whatever you have, okay?"

  "The alarm in the shop?" queried Bob.

  "No Bob, the alarm on the watch when the countdown timer runs out."

  "Oh okay."

  "Let me just clarify that point," added Max, pointing to his watch for emphasis. "We leave when this beeps."

  "I set mine to melody." said David.

  Max blinked a couple of times and took a deep steady breath.

  "Beeps, melodies, ring tones or whatever! When its runs out, you run out. Are we ready?"

  They nodded in unison and Max banged the side of the Transit van with his fist.

  "Tom, its show-time." he shouted out to the driver, before picking up his baseball bat. "Keep the van ticking over."

  The engine rumbled into life as Max yanked open the sliding side door and stepped onto the path outside the jewelers, followed quickly by his three accomplices. They burst int
o the shop, startling the man behind the counter who put his hands to his face in horror. Max brandished the baseball bat threateningly, while his accomplices moved quickly to the display cases.

  "Put your hands where I can see them," snarled Max, pointing at him with the bat. "Right in the air and do what I say and no-one gets hurt."

  The man in the suit behind the cashier thrust his hands into the air and waggled his fingers.

  "This truly is a shocking day-time raid," he said. "I'm nothing more than a terrified victim with absolutely no idea that this was going to happen."

  "Boss!" cried Bradley. "Where's all the jewelry?"

  Max cursed under his breath and moved over to one of the display cabinets and looked at the empty shelves and placements. Striding across to another he saw it was the same and quickly scanned the rest of the shop.

  "Where's all the goods?" yelled Max, rounding on the shop attendant in alarm.

  "We didn’t have a clue this was going to happen," said the man. "Not the faintest tip-off at all in the slightest."

  "The jewelry, where is it?"

  "About that," muttered the shopkeeper, winching slightly. "Yeah, it's not here, but I'll tell you what is here."

  "What?" snapped Max starting to panic.

  "Well, for starters, outside we have twenty London police officers that have surrounded the building and your escape vehicle."

  Max swallowed hard and moved a couple of steps back towards the door and peered through the window at the patrol cars blocking in their transit van, while some of the officers were cordoning off the area and advising the public to stay away.

  "Boss! Boss! What is it?" asked Bradley walking across.

  "We've been trapped." growled Max snatching the handgun from his accomplice and spinning around to point the barrel at the man in the suit behind the counter.

  "For the record I'm not bulletproof," said the man in a raised voice. "Let me also just say that the officers outside have extendable batons, speed-cuffs, PAVA spray and Tasers. I think one is from the armed units too, and has a firearm."

  "I'm gonna' shoot you." shouted Max, gripping the handgun tightly.

  "Can we get confirmation on that gun, quickly?" shouted the man in the suit to the police outside.

  "Heckler and Koch MSG901." answered a voice from outside.

  "See!" said the man. "Now, can I put my arms down now, they're kind of aching?"

  "Who are you?"

  "You can call me Agent One, and before you ask, no I don’t work here and yes you have been caught."

  "But how?" whimpered Max lowering the handgun in defeat.

  "We are a secret government project funded by the taxpayers to fight the London-wide crime database. We're a specialist unit consisting of unique individuals with one goal which is to make the streets of London safe again."

  "But…how did you know?"

  "It's time for your grand entrance." called out Agent One to the ceiling.

  Max looked up and around the room nonplussed then back to the agent.

  "I don’t know where they are," mumbled Agent One glancing around. "They could be anywhere really. It's getting kind of awkward now, boys!"

  Suddenly in a whoosh of air two tall cloaked figures appeared from nowhere and gently floated to the ground in front of the astonished robbers. They stood there looking majestic, dressed head-to-toe in white spandex with their cloaks draping over the floor.

  The two superheroes narrowed their eyes and glared at the robbers before they simultaneously began to speak.

  "No, no, no," cried Agent One waving his hands. "Keep the silence going a little longer and build on that tension."

  "Sorry." said one of the heroes snapping his mouth shut and resuming the stare.

  "What the hell is going on, boss?" muttered Bob.

  "Shhhh…" hissed Agent One putting his finger to his lips.

  Just then three alarms began beeping from the wrists of the robbers followed by a melody which broke the silence.

  "Your alarms are going off." pointed out Agent One.

  Nodding numbly Max flicked his off and his accomplices followed suit.

  "Good, well done boys," said Agent One turning to the spandex clad newcomers. "Good entrance, slightly delayed though, and next time keep the foreboding silence going just a touch longer, okay?"

  "Yes, sir." they said in unison.

  "Who are these men and how can they just appear out of thin air?" gasped Max.

  "I can answer that," said Agent One. "The man on the left with the lazy-eye and the swallow tattoo on the back of his hand is called GPS, and his colleague with the scar running down his face, the chain necklace tattoo around his neck and the missing front tooth is called the Vanisher. Together they make up a crime-fighting duo called….the Ex-Men."

  "The Ex-Men?" spat Max chuckling and glancing around to his accomplices. "What are you, like superheroes?"

  "Yes."

  Max laughed out loud and was followed by his men as GPS and the Vanisher looked at each other with a hurt expression on their faces.

  "I've seen and done some crazy stuff in my time," said Max wiping his eyes. "But this…well this just tops it all."

  "I told you the whole Ex-Men name was never going to work," whispered Agent One leaning across the counter. "People will just say it’s a blatant rip-off."

  "I still disagree," said GPS. "We added the E at the beginning and we like it because we're ex, as in ex-cons."

  Agent One sighed loudly and raised his hands.

  "I'm just saying guys, I'm just saying."

  "These are ex-cons?" asked Max.

  "Yes, and now they work for us using their superpowers for good. GPS has a very special talent. He has high sensitivity to GPS and GSM technology and can hone in on their signal. For years he and the Vanisher have targeted security vehicles and they find the vehicles location, steal the goods and then vanish. We caught them and now they are on day-release."

  "But…how did you find us?"

  "Well, we work with the police and received a tip-off that you were about to raid this jewelers. What you probably didn’t think about was that young David over there was your transmitter?"

  Max spun around and glared at David who shrugged his shoulders.

  "Not me, boss."

  "Relax, he didn’t know he was giving your exact location away," said Agent One. "Part of David's bail conditions is that he wears an electronic tag around his ankle, which is the same technology that GPS can track. We pinpointed your radio frequency signal and GPS over there triangulated your position and co-ordinates and passed that onto the police, then we vanished away all the valuables in this store with the help of the Vanisher and voila, here we are."

  Bob groaned and pulled off his balaclava.

  "Say hi to the CCTV cameras, Bob," said Agent One cheerfully.

  "We're done for, boss." Bob mumbled. "Alice is going to kill me."

  "The only question I have to ask is whether you are going to give up without a fight?"

  Max looked hopelessly around then dropped the handgun and baseball bat onto the ground before interlocking his hands on his head.

  "The best way." said Agent One, nodding his head in approval.

  One by one the robbers dropped their weapons and with shoulders slumped slowly walked to the entrance to the shop.

  "They're coming out," yelled Agent One. "Don’t shoot."

  With one final glance over his head Max left the store and Agent One watched as him and his men were tackled to pavement floor and handcuffed.

  "I thought that went pretty well, didn’t you guys?"

  "Do we have to go back to jail?" grumbled GPS.

  "It's for the best." replied Agent One. "But S.H.I.T commends your valor and conduct today, and we'll downgrade a couple of your major offenses to minor. How's that?"

  "That sounds good to me." admitted the Vanisher looking happy.

  Suddenly the door to the shop opened and the owner of the jewelers walked briskly in wringing his
hands nervously.

  "Gentlemen, I must thank you for what you have done today. It was truly a remarkable act of heroism and one that I am eternally grateful for.”

  "We're just doing our duty sir, and doing what's right for the city of London." said Agent One tipping his head. "Right, okay, so I've got some paperwork to catch up on so we'll be off then."

  The jewelry shop owner coughed lightly into his hand clearing his throat.

  "There's just the small matter of returning all my jewelry now." he said.

  "Of course," answered Agent One looking up at the Vanisher. "Please, return all this stores valuables and we'll be on our way."

  The Vanisher glanced at GPS then back to Agent One and shifted nervously from foot-to-foot.

  "Erm…I don’t really know where it is."

  "What do you mean exactly?" asked Agent One narrowing his eyes.

  "Well…there's a reason why they call me the Vanisher and not the Recoverer."

  "So how do we get all this man's goods back?" hissed the agent icily.

  "For that we need the Recoverer."

  "Then give the Recoverer a call."

  "Yeah…he died a while ago." mumbled the Vanisher. "It kind of ruined our whole operation. We could find the goods and vanish the goods, but never bring them back."

  "What is this man saying?" demanded the shop owner.

  "Did you sign that voluntary waiver relinquishing all rights and privileges to the contents of your store?" asked Agent One with a hopeful look in his eyes.

  "I did."

  "Then have a good day, sir." he said striding from the shop quickly.

  6.

  S.H.I.T headquarters (reprimand 2)

  “Get your sorry pale asses in this room right now!” shouted the angry voice from beyond the thick mahogany door.

  Agent One glanced across to Agent Two nervously, but didn’t move.

  “You go first.” said Agent One nodding towards the door handle.

  “No, you go first.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “But Agent Two always follows Agent One. You can’t argue with the numerical sequence, plus I was the first through the door last time the General wanted to see us.”