The blue clad man was now close enough that Joe could make out his features and that left him astounded.
Joe: “This can’t be real.”
Man in Black: “Who is this freak?”
The man in black holding Joe turned his aim towards the approaching fighter, pointing it dead center of the white star at the man’s chest. His grip on Joe loosened just a little, and only briefly, but it was enough for Joe to wriggle free and elbow the man in the face. Joe ran a little distance away and the man aimed at him. Joe turned in enough time to catch the sight of a huge red and white spinning disk as it sailed through the air and crashed into the side of the man's face that had held him just moments before. The disk hit the ground afterwards. Upon closer glance, it was just a regular old metal trashcan lid. He could have sworn that it had had white and red stripes around it and a star in the middle.
Those thoughts were interrupted when the blue blur leaped upon the man in black and landed two clean knockout punches to the man’s jaw. The black suit crashed into the brick wall behind him and slumped to the ground, where he slumbered.
The blue clad man approached Joe and smiled at him. He gave him the thumbs up.
Blue Clad Man: “Good work, soldier!”
Joe stared at the huge muscular man and tried to find something to say. He could only stare at the shining white “A” on the guy’s mask, as no words would come. Finally he managed.
Joe: “Holy cow! You’re Captain A—”
There was a loud thud behind him, and Joe looked back at Borland and saw that his human shield was now on the ground knocked out. Borland pointed his gun at the blue man in suspicion.
Borland: “Who’re you, freakshow?”
Joe: “Wait Borland, he’s Captain A—”
Borland: “Let him answer it.”
Captain A—: “You can think of me as the enemy of your enemy. I understand your caution, but I think we should discuss things at a safer location.”
Borland: “You have a point. Let’s get out of here.”
Captain A—: “Let freedom prevail!”
Chapter 15
Extraordinaires Assemble
Borland: “Why are you still dressed like that?”
Captain A—: “Because it’s a hoot and a half, as you people like to say.”
Joe settled into the old gray couch. The cramped stylings of Borland’s old apartment seemed extra small when occupied by two other people, especially when one of those people was a hulking superhero. His bright costume crashed drastically with the décor.
Borland: “Well, you’re attracting too much unwanted attention, so stop looking like an idiot and change back.”
The super soldier saluted Borland and began to change shape. His shoulders contracted and slanted downwards. The rough angles that made up the big man’s physiology morphed into firm curves, the long limbs and torso shortened to a height that was just a shade under Borland’s. The blues became blacks and the mask was no more, as were the bright red boots and gloves.
Standing before them was Beauty. Joe had forgotten about her once the fighting started outside of Blonsky’s Pierogi Place, until she had admitted to them both minutes before that it was her. Joe felt extremely stupid; he had thought he was in the presence of a real life superhero. And why not believe that? With all the crazy secret buildings, shape-shifting spies, and murder plots, a superhero was an easy thing to believe.
Joe wasn’t quite so lucky. There were no superheroes, but everything else was true, Beauty’s presence was a testament to that. Now that she was in her own skin, that familiar smell of loveliness that Joe associated with her had intensified.
Beauty: “You guys miss me?”
Guys? Joe wondered if Beauty and Borland had met before.
Borland: “Like a thorn in my side. So what’s that, magic?”
Beauty: “To simplify it, yes.”
Borland: “Always thought that existed. Makes sense.”
Beauty: “Helps me get the job done.”
Joe had caught a flash of anger in Borland. The man was prone to those, as Joe had learned during his stay here.
Borland: “And what job is that might I ask? Getting this boy killed? Ruining my investigation?”
Beauty: “None of those.”
Borland: “Well then, tell me what gives you the right to kidnap this boy and use him for your own purposes?”
Borland ended up screaming those last words.
Beauty: “Kidnap? From who? You? Last time I checked, you weren’t either of his parents. As for why I did it, well, I did it for his sake.”
Borland: “You could’ve gotten him killed or captured! What in the nine hells was worth that?”
Beauty: “The proof of his innocence. I have it.”
She looked Joe right in his eyes.
Beauty: “I owed him that … for his kindness.”
The room fell quiet. Borland looked anxious.
Beauty: “I believe it was worth the risk, and I can assure you that no harm would have come upon little Joe’s head. You’re a good man, Borland. Your apprehension shows that you care about this boy, but at this point he has nothing to do with your goals or my goals.”
Borland: “He’s the center of all of this, he has everything to do with it.”
Beauty: “He’s an unfortunate scapegoat in all of this, and I put him in this situation.”
She had it half right, but Joe himself had volunteered to help when he could’ve just escaped with his friends.
Beauty: “It should be up to him if he wants to continue or not, not you, not I, and not Blonsky. I’m putting that choice back in his hands before this gets out of hand.”
She produced a DVD case from her messenger bag that was labeled in comically large letters: “Joe Not Guilty.” She put the disc in Joe’s hands, along with some sort of necklace. The necklace was long and made of silver, and had a pendant of what looked like the head of a crazed owl. Joe lifted the pendant in front of his face.
Joe: “What is this?”
Beauty: “It is a keepsake for all we have been through together. It is said that the owl watches over and safeguards those that wear it. Take it, please, as an apology from me for causing you so much pain. I hope it brings you comfort and tranquility”
Joe studied the trinket and slipped it into his pocket. It was ugly, but it came from a good place.
Joe: “Thank you.”
Beauty: “Well, Joe, we are at a crossroads and you have a choice to make. Because of the prominence you’ve gained in this situation, and thanks to what you’ve seen, you’ve became an integral piece in this whole mess. Both Borland and I need you to accomplish our goals. We are both trying to take down two very bad men, and Borland still needs your help in finding Dahlila and Melissa.”
Joe: “You two know each other?”
Borland brooded quietly against the wall.
Beauty: “Our paths have crossed before. We are neither friends nor partners for that matter, but our goals seem to be somewhat aligned. You have no obligation to help us. As a matter of fact, you have done much and more already to help us. That disc is my thanks for that help. With it, you have all you need to clear your name. You can go back to your regular, everyday, average lifestyle.”
Joe: “I, um…”
Villain View 2
A Powerful Motivator
The office was warm, too warm, and so a black-suited man was ordered to crack the window to let some of the night air in. Might as well put these fools to use, thought their master. His office was also dim, as he liked, and smoky—from both the fireplace and his own cigar collection.
Blonsky: “So you’re telling me that a superhero came out of nowhere and knocked you all out cold?”
“Yes sir, a patriot!”
Blonsky’s personal cadre of black-suited men all looked broken, both physically and spiritually. Blonsky wouldn’t let them stay that way. They had work to do and he needed them in tip top shape. His suits knew how to follow his ord
ers and he didn’t even need to use pansy-pants magic. He was the sort of man who knew alternate ways to effectively motivate, unlike that wimp Billy-boy. He spoke to them all in a light and comical tone.
Blonsky: “Man oh man! I might have actually found this funny if you all didn’t make such a complete fool of me by eating the dirt in Pierogi’s alley so hard tonight. But you all made me look baaaaaaad. I mean real baaaaaaad. And that’s the problem because, you see, I live and breathe based on my reputation. And what is my reputation you may ask? You there, loser number one, I’m looking right at you.”
The black-suited man with long brown hair pointed at himself in confusion.
Blonsky: “Yeah you, ya long-haired moron. Go ahead and ask me that question. The one I just asked you to ask me.”
Black-suited man: “Umm, what is your reputation, sir?”
Blonsky: “Why, I thought you’d never ask. You see, eggs-for-brains, my reputation is based on fear. Fear from my enemies, fear from my partners, and fear from my subordinates. A guy like me is nothing without it. Fear keeps the gears of my operation running and motivates business.”
Blonsky produced an expensive-looking cigar from his office drawer and snipped the tip. He lit it and took a few puffs. An earthy, smoky aroma filled the room. Blonsky blew the smoke towards the group of black suits. One of them let out a cough. They were all lined up shoulder to shoulder and kneeling in front of Blonsky’s desk. They were a gift from his partner, a poisoned gift if truth be told. Sure, they were obedient, but they were also fools. He dropped the fool voice and spoke in his normal tone.
Blonsky: “Here’s a quick history lesson. Back before the Revolutionary War, America was a lowly servant to Britain. Whenever the pretty little queen and king said ‘jump,’ America asked ‘how high?’ That’s because America was young, and like any child feared to bite the hand that fed them. Children don’t like to be punished, so America obeyed. Britain had an iron grip on the country, they were not to be trifled with because they were the Red Coats, a strong name for a strong nation. Anyone that challenged a Red Coat was an enemy of the crown and thusly doomed to a jail, gallows, or a life of indentured servitude only slightly better than a slave. But after a while, children get bigger and bolder and they try you, they try to taunt you and challenge you to see how far they get. If the parent balks at this challenge, the child runs roughshod and the parent loses what control they had. Britain lost that control when Americans stopped calling them Red Coats and started calling them Lobsterbacks. You give a child an inch and they’ll take a mile.”
Blonsky pulled a bottle of some dark liquid from his desk. The bottle had the labels removed so one could only guess what was in it. He opened it, placing the top on his solid oak desk while he poured all the contents of the bottle into the spray bottle that sat on top of the desk. It didn’t take him long. He got up and walked to the front of his desk.
Blonsky: “I know you guys have got to be thirsty after all that fighting. Here, have a drink.”
He sprayed them all with whatever was in the spray bottle until their suits shined in what little light the office received. When he was done, he sat on the top of his desk, in front of them, and set his nearly empty spray bottle down next to him.
Blonsky: “Good, good. You guys look sharp. You see, fellas, even controlling a rough bunch of creeps like you is made difficult when you lack proper motivation. Today I will motivate you.”
The men sat in silence and waited. Some sweated, others looked off into space, others looked at the floor. None looked at Blonsky. Blonsky puffed his cigar nice and long and flicked it into the air. He exhaled an excessive amount of smoke and grinned sickly when the cigar landed softly on the man in black that had coughed earlier. The man’s suit ignited quickly and easily. He dropped to the ground to try to smother the flames, but the floor was laden with excess amounts of whatever liquid Blonsky had coated them all in.
Blonsky: “I didn’t give you permission to put yourself out, ya moron.”
Blonsky laughed as the man screamed.
Blonsky: “Now that is proper motivation. Fear is a tool and I use it to make money, lots and lots of money. I need to reacquaint those who have wronged me and continue to wrong me with it.”
The man on the floor screamed louder.
Blonsky: “Now, fellas, let’s find a reason to make my enemies fear me—and for the love of Jove will somebody please put this idiot out!”
One of the men took off his jacket to fan the flames and caught fire himself.
Blonsky: “No, no! Don’t touch him! What’re you doing? Get an extinguisher! Run, don’t walk! What circus am I dealing with? Idiots, idiots, and more idiots! That’s what I’m cursed with.”
Chapter 16
Team Badd Azz
Buzz Buzz Buzz!
The alarm clock seemed louder than ever before and Joe had to karate chop the big snooze button to save his sleepy state.
Joe: “Dang it! Just a few more minutes.”
Nine minutes later the buzzing came back, but this time Joe was ready to get up. The morning went by in a blur. Joe vaguely remembered taking a shower, having cereal, and watching T.V., but not really paying attention to what was on.
He left his house and walked to the car, which was parked on the street. His dutiful girlfriend Kate had returned it—his parents said—after the whole stadium incident. He still hadn’t seen or talked to her since and wasn’t sure what he’d say the next time he did.
He got into his car and turned the ignition. His car jumped to life but it felt different. Everything felt different. The drive to school went by in a blur. Joe vaguely remembered seeing street signs, a stoplight, a slow old lady crossing the street, traffic lights, more traffic lights, and a cute girl with red hair in the school’s parking lot. She smiled at him. Her red hair reminded him of Kate, but Kate’s was naturally red. He couldn’t say the same about this girl.
The walk through the school went by in a blur. There were plenty of staring faces everywhere he went, much chatter, some laughter, and many whispers. No one talked directly to him but Joe knew that they were talking about him.
He had shifted through the halls and was almost near his locker when he bumped into two guys that he was distantly familiar with but had never talked to before. More accurately, they bumped into him. He knew them as Fleez and Dozz, and that they were to be avoided.
Fleez: “Uh-oh! Badass alert! Clear the hallway, peasants, lest you want to be just another victim.”
Fleez was the taller of the two, and had a distinct island tan and large dark eyes. His hair was black and curly but partially shaved on the sides. He approached Joe in a casual manner.
Dozz: “That’s not fair, Fleez. He’s been acquitted of his crimes. That makes us the only badasses setting off alarms here.”
Dozz was very hairy, almost like a werewolf and had tiny beady eyes. He already had a full beard that hung down past his Adam’s apple even though he was only sixteen. His hair was equally as long, reaching down to the middle of his neck, and both hair and beard were brown and completely messy. Underneath all that hair was flesh so pale that Joe wondered if Dozz had ever seen the sun.
Fleez: “He’s been acquitted of half his crimes, so he’s a badass until proven innocent. How ‘bout it, Joe? Wanna join the likes of us and raise hell?”
Fleez stuck his hand out.
Joe: “Sorry, but your friend is right. I’m not a badass. I’m just a regular guy. Excuse me, I have to get to class.”
Joe sheepishly pushed past them and walked down the hall. Further down he caught a flash of red hair and saw her. Kate was facing her locker. He stood still and wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights. She turned and looked in his direction and they locked eyes, but only briefly. She turned her head and walked away down the opposite end of the hall.
The rest of the day went by in a blur until lunch, when he bumped into the principal, Mr. Patrias, a short and slender man with a penchant for tacky dress clothes. Today he
wore an olive green suit with a yellow tie and pocket square which made him look like a pickle someone accidently dunked in mustard.
Mr. Patrias: “So, Joe, you’ve decided to join us in the land of the learning?”
Patrias laughed at his own joke, but Joe didn’t find it so funny.
Joe: “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Patrias: “Well I’m glad you’re in good health and that this whole ordeal is behind you. Now you can get back on track to academic excellence.”
Joe: “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Patrias: “Remember, Joe, toeing the line won’t cut it anymore. I won’t have it here at my school. I’ll be on your case until you’re just as bright and competitive as my best.”
Joe: “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Patrias: “If you follow that, we’ll finally see eye to eye. I know you can do it.”
Principal Patrias adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and smiled using only his lips.
Mr. Patrias: “Now go get some lunch and fuel up for the rest of your classes.”
Joe walked away from the principal, feeling ill at ease. Neither he nor Joe had seen eye to eye since he had been Joe’s teacher back in elementary school. Joe honestly didn’t think the man had liked him—ever. He opted to get on with his day, however, and grabbed some lunch.
Lunch was a standard affair, corndogs and tater tots. Brussels sprouts were there too, but who wanted those? Joe grabbed his tray and looked for a place to sit. He usually split his seating arrangements between Mod and his friends, or the Orangetown High benchwarmers. The benchwarmers were usually good company and had much to say about football, which Joe liked, but today he didn’t feel like answering all the questions they were sure to ask. Plus, even as benchwarmers, they were too high profile for him right now. He wanted to be as incognito as possible.
Average Joe and the Extraordinaires Page 7
