by Joey Peters
The taxi neared Rob and Candyman's apartment. Soon, they were only a couple blocks away, but then somebody charged up to the taxi's window and began to tap on it.
The man was dressed in a suit and looked very familiar. Panic was stretched across his face.
It was famous news reporter Simon Simon.
"Guys, guys, guys," he said, "Where's the nearest pay phone? It's like those things don't exist anymore."
Rob said, "Want to borrow my cell phone?"
Simon Simon said, "No. Where's the nearest pay phone?"
"Up two blocks," said Candyman, while pointing down a street, "In front of the doughnut shop."
Simon Simon darted off and he soon found the phone booth. He forced the rusted old door open and slipped inside.
Now, you probably think I'm being clever. After all, I used the same words to describe the appearances of The Pinnacle and Simon Simon. You're thinking that Simon Simon will tear free his civilian identity and reveal himself as The Pinnacle, right?
Well, the truth is that Simon Simon had personal space issues and was very uncomfortable using someone else's phone.
He called for help.
Meanwhile, Rob and Candyman looked over at the direction Simon Simon came from. Mr. Asparagus adeptly dodged an energy bolt from Professor Black Hole.
"Wait a second... that's the dude who runs the taco shop..." said Rob.
Candyman said, "It's a superhero fight. We should get out of here."
Rob said, "We both have powers—"
"Turning into a Charleston Chew isn't a super power," said Candyman.
"It so is," said Rob, "But even if you're too chicken I'm gonna check this out."
Rob pressed the door of the taxi open and stepped out into the street. His tortilla trench coat rippled in the light wind.
He approached the battle.
The professor aimed his singularity cannon from the hip and fired another vaguely defined energy blast at Mr. Asparagus. He had fought enough superheroes in his day to know it was pointless to put any energy into trying to win. In the battle between good and evil, at least in his universe, good always came out on top.
But really, Mr. Asparagus wasn't that much of a good guy. The energy blast clipped dangerously close to him, vaporizing a layer of cotton on his gloves.
And through it all, loyal Timmy, Simon Simon's cameraman and intern, relayed the action to WBTC TV's live feed.
Professor Black Hole shot his eyes toward the new oncoming hero in a... was that a corn tortilla trench coat? He froze.
Thoughts clicked slowly and painfully through the professor's mind. That new challenger—that was the fat kid. The one he killed. Wasn't it?
Mr. Asparagus saw his opportunity. Professor Black Hole stood frozen, confusion contorted across his face. Mr. Asparagus lurched toward him.
Even as Mr. Asparagus approached, fingers snarled in rage, Professor Black Hole remained still. Mr. Asparagus rained his fists down on the unlucky supervillain.
The professor reacted involuntarily, crumpling up and curling into a ball. None of this stopped Mr. Asparagus.
He slammed his feet into the professor's back.
"Hey," said Rob, "He looks like he's beaten. I think you can stop."
Mr. Asparagus stomped on the professor's head.
"Just leave this to the professionals, kid. I know what I'm doing," said Mr. Asparagus as he dropped to one knee and slammed his fist into Professor Black Hole's temple.
"You're hurting him," said Rob, "You really should stop."
Mr. Asparagus snapped to his feet. He tried to look down his nose at Rob, but Rob was a good six inches taller. Mr. Asparagus had to roll his head completely back, and even then he was only slightly looking down on our hero.
"He's a supervillain and a murderer. He doesn't deserve pity. I'll do what I want with him."
Rob looked at Mr. Asparagus. Rob already suspected that he wasn't much of a hero, but this proved it.
And now that he was close enough, he recognized Professor Black Hole. He wasn't just the guy who ran the taco shop.
Rob said, "That's Professor Black Hole. I would say he deserves nothing but pity... he's never even won a super fight."
"I beat Putty Man once..." said the professor glumly.
Mr. Asparagus kicked him gently in the ribs.
"No," said Rob, "You confused him long enough to get away."
Professor Black Hole pouted.
Finally, Candyman finished paying the taxi driver and slowly sidled up to the action. He stood fearfully behind Timmy.
"But anyway," said Mr. Asparagus, "He killed someone yesterday. I'm taking him in."
"That's way outside Professor Black Hole's usual M.O. I don't believe it."
The gears clicked together in Candyman's head.
Timmy twitched twice.
The professor looked up at Rob like a dog that was caught crapping on the couch.
"I'm...sorry..." he said.
Rob stared at him confusedly.
"Oh for Siddhartha's sake," said Candyman, "He's talking about you, you goof."
A shock surged through Mr. Asparagus.
"Wait," he said, "I was being metaphorical. Like, you fed horrible greasy fat food to an already fat kid... you actually meant to kill him? This is gonna get me way more accolades."
Mr. Asparagus slammed his foot into the back of Professor Black Hole's head with renewed rigor and venom.
Rob stepped forward and pushed Mr. Asparagus away from his prostrate enemy.
"You can knock it off. He's defeated already..." said Rob.
"Okay," snarled Mr. Asparagus," I've had just about enough misplaced morality from you."
He drove his veiny vegetable fist into Rob's face. Rob recoiled, then pressed himself up between Mr. Asparagus and the professor.
"You don't want to do this," said Rob, "Let's just call the police and hand Professor Black Hole over to them."
Again Mr. Asparagus swung, but this time Rob dodged. He pointed his palm toward the side of Mr. Asparagus' head and released a blast of soft lettuce.
Mr. Asparagus stumbled back, but as soon as he could figure out what was happening he spun back around and pounced. He swung. This time Rob didn't bother to dodge. He formed a plate of hyper dense corn tortilla to defend himself.
A sharp pain ran up the length of Mr. Asparagus' arm.
"Okay," he snarled, "No more Mr. Nice-Sentient-Stalk-of-Asparagus."
Two more news vans rounded the corner and spun to their respective stops. Their side doors creaked open and news anchors and cameramen less interesting than Simon Simon and Timmy stepped out to catch the fight.
Mr. Asparagus took no notice of them—he was too busy with his fight with Rob. He slammed his fists into a mail box. The tiny metal legs that held it to the ground crumpled and snap. He hefted it up above his asparagus stalk head and aimed carefully.
He lobbed the mailbox at Rob.
But as it neared him, Rob fired a blast of grilled chicken and guacamole that deflected and slowed the mailbox enough to prevent the destruction of both Rob and the box.
"Hey," Rob said, "That's interfering with the mail—a federal offense. Can you just calm down?"
Mr. Asparagus reached under a parked car—and not the Asparagusmobile—and lifted it over his head like the mailbox. He carefully aimed...
"That's somebody's car! You can't do that!" called Rob.
Mr. Asparagus ignored him and hurled the car at Rob.
Rob fired a burst of carnitas at the vehicle, but that scarcely slowed it's momentum. The force of the blast actually pushed Rob backward.
That gave him an idea.
He had less than a second to work it out. He spun his arm out backward and fired a burst of ground beef backward into his own hand to anchor himself. With his other hand he fired a blast
of pinto beans at the car.
It slowed to a stop and landed heavily in front of Rob.
"Dude!" said Rob, "You could have killed me! Again."
It was at this point that Mr. Asparagus realized how large an audience he had. News cameras from channels five, seven and twenty-three were pointed straight at him, all the news cameras present, except for Timmy from WBTC TV who was off in the corner hyperventilating.
Rob figured that the unfortunate intern just couldn't stand up to the dangers of a straight up superhero fight.
"Uhh, uhh," Mr. Asparagus stammered, "You—you were aiding and abetting a supervillain... You're a supervillain yourself..."
Even Mr. Asparagus couldn't build himself up enough to believe that.
Mr. Asparagus turned to face the news cameras. He pointed at Rob.
"That—that guy's a supervillain. I—I didn't intentionally throw that car at him. I was like being brain controlled or something..."
One of the reporters stepped up to him and pointed his microphone in Mr. Asparagus' face.
"Stephen Stephens, Channel Five News. You don't really expect us to believe that, do you?"
Mr. Asparagus stared blankly. Was this how his carefully prepared superhero career was to end?
And then something really crazy happened. An animalisic scream pierced the air.
Timmy laid in a heap off to the corner. Strange ripples ran up his flesh, clearly distorting his musculature and features. Green ooze trickled out of the sides of his lips.
His body began to grow. His clothing stretched tight, then tore to shreds and he kept growing. After a few moments, the only shred of clothing left on his body was his extra-elastic purple boxer briefs, which were made from some plot device element invented by the Smart Family.
Then he turned into some kind of giant monster turtle.
Chapter Seven
Rob shot his eyes over to his vegetable adversary and said, "We should stop fighting and try to contain this thing."
But Mr. Asparagus said, "Are you crazy? That thing's dangerous. We could get killed."
He knew he was absolutely screwed. Mr. Asparagus figured that maybe winning back his respect wasn't worth risking getting sent to the compost heap.
Gradually, the monster turtle grew aware of his surroundings. His fellow cameramen intimidated him. He cowered up against a conveniently placed building, but he was still growing.
Thank goodness for his plot-deviceium underpants.
Mr. Asparagus jumped in his Asparagus-mobile and drove off.
"Okay," said Rob, "It's just you and me, then, Candyman."
Candyman said, "Turning into a Cadbury Cream Egg isn't a super power," meekly.
But just as he said that the turtle monster lost his grip on the building. He stumbled and the pad of his massive paddle foot crashed down on Candyman.
At the last possible moment Candyman shifted into gummy form. He splattered when the foot came down upon him, but when the turtle monster pulled his foot away Candyman reformed.
"That sucked," muttered Candyman.
Rob thought for a moment. If the turtle monster could be lead down Comm Ave, if they could keep traffic out of the middle, that should at least prevent anybody else getting hurt, until he could come up with a better plan.
"Candyman," he commanded, "Lead the turtle man down the street—and give the traffic enough time to get out of the way."
Candyman wanted to just run away home. He never wanted to be a superhero.
But he couldn't say no to Rob. In all the years they had been friends this was the first time Rob showed real confidence. Real heroism.
Candyman shifted into a chocolate shell surrounding a supple nougat core. He stretched himself up, his form growing slimmer until he reached the monster turtle's height, then slapped it across the face.
Terror rippled through his long, pipe cleaner thin frame, but he looked down on Rob. Somehow, that gave him enough bravery to continue.
He took two twenty foot strides away from the turtle monster, then turned back toward it.
"Who's a lame monster?" he called in a thin, whispy voice, "You are!"
Somehow, the lizard brain at the base of the turtle monster's mind understood. Rage cracked across it's inhuman face. It stomped off in pursuit of Candyman.
Rob finally had a chance to think.
Usually, when Timmy the newsboy went all Gamera the Pinnacle was around. The Pinnacle always seemed to be saving the news crew from WBTC TV.
So where was he?
Whatever, thought Rob, I can worry about that later. How could he keep both the turtle monster and Beantown City safe?
He remembered how he anchored himself with the power of his own taco matter. Could he use a similar trick to throw the turtle into the Atlantic ocean?
But he couldn't be sure he wouldn't turn back into Timmy during the journey and the young cameraman probably wouldn't like hitting the ocean at six hundred miles per hour.
Then it came to Rob.
If he could fly, he could use hyper-dense tortilla shells to bind the turtle and carry him out to sea.
But could Rob fly?
He fired a burst of sour cream out of the bottom of his feet, up, at himself. He felt the spray, but it wasn't strong enough blast to lift him.
He tried again, this time with a stronger spray. Slowly he rose up several inches into the air.
"Holy crap! I'm flying!" he yelled.
Sour cream sprayed everywhere. Droplets splattered over the reporters, the cameramen, their cameras, the crumpled body of Professor Black Hole and the street.
But he was flying. Rob hurtled off toward the turtle monster and Candyman. They'd gone surprisingly far, but this was a good thing if anything. This gave Rob a chance to figure out the finer points of flight.
He lurched over a couple buildings and soon reached the turtle monster. Rob hurled himself into it's thigh.
Before the beast could react, Rob sprouted taco shell shackles that secured themselves around the turtle's ankles.
Rob shot off into the sky.
The chains pulled tight. Rob blasted out as much sour cream as he could, but it wasn't enough.
He added ground beef to the blast. The chains stretched at the incredible force, but it still wasn't enough.
The turtle's dim mind slowly realized that the tiny man shooting taco stuff everywhere was the source of the pain in his ankles. He swung his fore paw at Rob.
But Rob added carnitas, lettuce, pico de gallo and hot sauce to his blast. He lurched quickly into the sky.
The turtle monster's flipper feet left the ground and spun upward, dragged by the immense force of Rob's taco power.
His swing, aimed at Rob, completely missed. As Rob tumbled ever higher into the sky the turtle monster spun awkward and randomly.
Every part of Rob's body ached, every muscle, every organ, every bone. He knew he was pressing himself past his limits—but he couldn't let himself fail.
He reinforced his bones with hyper-dense taco shell.
Beantown City passed under him, Allstone, then Sciency and the financial district. The turtle monster's weight was incredible. Rob hurt more than he ever had before. Every inch closer to Beantown City's harbor he dragged himself required every ounce of his strength.
The rate at which taco fillings fired out of him slowed.
The buildings below him grew larger.
Rob tried to focus. If he failed then lives would be at stake... and he was a superhero. He couldn't let that happen.
But he was terribly spent. Perhaps he could have done it if he'd spent months in careful training, but this was the first time he'd ever used his powers.
The ground grew closer. He was seconds above the ground when suddenly, the immense weight of the turt
le monster vanished.
For a moment Rob thought that the turtle had torn free of his tortilla chains, but he looked down. The turtle was still obviously hovering above the ground. In fact, the turtle slowly rose into the sky...
The reason was soon revealed.
As the turtle rose over him he saw a man in a blue unitard tightly clasped around the monster's shell. The Pinnacle turned his face toward Rob.
"Wanna fly with me and talk?" he said.
"I—er, well," said Rob, "I'm sorry I was about to drop him. I'm not a very good superhero."
"I wouldn't say that," said the Pinnacle, "Come on. I'd like to have a talk with you."
"You want to talk with me?" said Rob.
The Pinnacle pushed himself forward toward the harbor. Rob, now much lighter and capable of holding himself in the sky, followed him.
"Why shouldn't I? You're a new superhero in my town. I want to know a little about you before I entrust the lives of Beantown City's citizens to you."
"Wow," said Rob.
"I've been watching you for a little while now."
"Wait," said Rob, "For how long?"
"Since my brother called me. You know, Simon Simon. You were fighting with Mr. Asparagus."
Rob said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"Hold it right there. Stop apologizing," the Pinnacle said, "You gave him every opportunity to avoid violent conflict. Remember, I was watching. I know Mr. Asparagus is a dink."
"Oh," said Rob.
"I was about to swoop down and deal with Timmy when he went all Gamera, but then you took charge. I wanted to see how you'd handle the situation."
"How did I do?" said Rob.
"Very promisingly. But that brings me to a few questions. First of all, how long have you had your powers?"
"About two hours, I think."
The Pinnacle nodded at Rob. The look on his face said he was very impressed.
"Not bad," he said, "Okay. That kinda renders my next question moot. I was gonna ask if you were a supervillain who's turned good for a while. Always a good idea to keep an eye on those guys."
"Oh, no. I've never so much as stolen a stick of gum," said Rob, "To be honest, it's always been my fondest wish to be a superhero."
"Yeah," the Pinnacle said, "That's the impression I got from watching you. Anyway, that brings me to my final question. Would you like to join the ASOSHU?" For those just joining us, that the American Society of Superheroes United—a superhero (and ferret trappers... don't ask) union. "Dues are cheap. You get access to the Ultimate Squad's auxiliary gym. Big discount on superhero classes. And super-health insurance."
"Uhhh," said Rob.
"You don't have to answer now. Anyway, I think we've reached our destination," said the Pinnacle. He rolled the turtle monster onto his shoulder and held out his other hand.
