Fly Another Day

by Adam Graham

  Fly Another Day

  Adventures of Powerhouse

  Novellas One and Two

  Adam and Andrea

  Graham

  ~~~

  Smashwords Edition

  Laser and Sword Books

  Boise, Idaho

  © 2013 Adam and Andrea Graham

  All Rights Reserved

  Smashwords

  Cover Design © 2013 C.L. Smith

  Powerhouse Logo © 2010 Holly Heisey

  All Rights Reserved

  Print ISBN: 978-1482617788

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  POWERHOUSE FLIES AGAIN

  Chapter 1 The Dad Formerly Known As Powerhouse

  Chapter 2 Powerhouse's Next Adventure

  Chapter 3 A Stab at Heroism

  Chapter 4 The Big Break

  Chapter 5 Copyright Powerhouse

  Chapter 6 Building a Better Powerhouse

  Chapter 7 Powerhouse 2.0

  Chapter 8 Powerhouse v. the Kidnappers

  Chapter 9 Random Acts of Powerhouse

  Chapter 10 "We Have a Problem"

  RISE OF THE ROBOLAWYERS

  Chapter 1 The Secret Weapon

  Chapter 2 Superhero Incorporated

  Chapter 3 Return of the Emerald Avenger

  Chapter 4 Legally Correct Superheroing

  Chapter 5 Insuring a Superhero

  Chapter 6 Legacy

  Chapter 7 The Superhero's Apprentice

  Chapter 8 The Robolawyers Strike

  Chapter 9 Captain France to the Rescue

  Chapter 10 No One Gets Out of Here . . . .

  Chapter 11 The Fall of the Robolawyers

  Chapter 12 The Triumph of Powerhouse

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Powerhouse

  Flies Again

  Chapter 1

  The Dad Formerly Known As Powerhouse

  Powerhouse soared through the sky and dropped the Joker into jail. Venom raced up from behind him. Powerhouse wrestled with Venom on top of the space needle.

  Both action figures fell off the building.

  Mild-Mannered Dad Dave Johnson flinched and straightened up as he sat on his cream living room carpet.

  His ten-year-old, Derrick, looked up. “Oops.”

  Comfortable leathers chairs and couches surrounded them, looking on a fifty-two-inch HD TV in a walnut cabinet. The walls were painted Naomi’s favorite hue, soft baby blue.

  Dave wore jeans and a Captain America T-shirt. His cropped black hair came to the middle of his ear. Derrick wore a Seahawks T-shirt and his black hair went down to his neck in the back.

  “Son, it’s okay.” Dave sighed. “I keep telling them I needed a real rocketpack on this doll, but they say it’d cost too much.”

  Derrick’s eyes sparkled. “Dad, do you think you could’ve beat Venom?”

  “Son, Powerhouse could’ve beaten anyone.” Dave beamed, puffing out his chest. He bit his lip. “Of course, Venom isn’t just strong, he’s really smart. I’m glad I didn’t have to face him.” Especially with the danger Venom put Peter Parker’s loved ones in.

  “Who was the toughest bad guy you faced in real life?”

  “The Invisibility Master. I couldn’t see him or the rocket launcher that he had.”

  “He’d be a cool toy.”

  Dave rolled his eyes. “The big baby’s lawyer threatened to sue over his action figure. Something about it being prejudicial and trademark infringement. The only villain action figures I could get made were Diablo and Night Lord, because they’re both dead. Come to think of it, Diablo’s the only action figure you didn’t have me get.”

  Shying back, Derrick scrunched up his nose. “Dad! Diablo kidnapped James and me and held us upside down over a swimming pool full of acid.”

  “I guess that would ruin a toy.”

  Behind them, Zolgron called from the kitchen, “Dave, pay attention, I have something to tell you.”

  Dave scooted around on his bottom until he faced Zolgron’s direction.

  The seven-foot tall, gray-skinned, humanoid alien had donned a white apron over his green cape and black armor. “I’m off to Italy. I’ve got to stop a terrorist plot that the head of the Italian Secret Service emailed me about.”

  Dave’s heart constricted. If only it was him. “Have a good time.”

  “Dinner is being warmed on the stove. Meals for the next three days are in the fridge.”

  “You probably have enough for the next six days.”

  “Two extra meals are in the freezer. I put defrosting instructions on the refrigerator. If you run out of that, I guess you’ll have to go to the store and cook something yourself.” Zolgron grimaced.

  Derrick ran to Zolgron and hung on his arm. “Please finish telling us about the Kornoc War on Xylex Seven.”

  “I’ll finish when I get back.” Zolgron waved the boy away and glanced up at the entertainment center’s digital clock. “Well, I’m off.”

  Dave peered at Zolgron. “With the apron on?”

  “Oh, right.” Zolgron gazed at the apron. It dissipated into nothingness. Zolgron headed toward the kitchen’s back door.

  Derrick jumped up and headed for the kitchen. “Hey, Dad come and watch him take off in his rocketpack.”

  “No thanks.” I remember taking off with my rocketpack strapped to my back.

  The front door opened, and Naomi breezed in wearing a gray skirt suit. Her dark brown hair curled under her chin.

  “Hi, honey.” Dave shuffled over to her, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her full on the lips for an entire minute. Her soft manicured hands ran across the back of his neck.

  Naomi pulled back. “You usually don’t kiss that long at the door.”

  “Derrick’s not usually distracted by watching Zolgron.”

  “Where’s he off to now?”

  “Italy.” Dave cleared his throat. “I was thinking maybe we could have Carmela baby-sit and see a movie.”

  Naomi raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget we have counseling?”

  Darn it, she remembered. “Oh, that’s tonight?”

  “Yeah, as soon as we have dinner and Carmela brings James home from his tutoring session, we’ll get going.”

  Dave grimaced. “Okay, but I still don’t understand why. What did I do wrong?”

  Naomi extended her left hand. “It’s not like that. I’m just concerned.”

  “But he said not to come back for six months.”

  “He said we didn’t have to come back for six months. He didn’t say we couldn’t.” Naomi stared deep into Dave’s eyes. “Honey, I’m worried about you.”

  Dave sighed. “Let’s try dinner. Hopefully, he didn’t cook snails.”

  “I’m sure that Zolgron knows better than to make you escargot.” She laughed. “After the last time anyway.”

  Mitch Farrow slouched in a green metal office chair held together by duct tape as he viewed his eBay auction on his bulky, third-hand computer monitor. A fast food bag and an empty paper cola cup littered the buckled plywood desk that also served as a kitchenette table. The green linoleum floor had missing patches. On his right, four days’ worth of dirty dishes were piled in the sink and it smelled of putrid water. The electric stove and refrigerator were cracked with paint peeling, as
was the cabinets’ frou-frou blue paint.

  He refreshed the Ebay auction. Thirty-five seconds left to go. Come on, a few bucks more.

  The auction ended at $315. He made a note in his ledger.

  Not bad. This sale would put him at ninety bucks for the month once he paid his bills. He smirked and hummed “If I Were a Rich Man.”

  He turned off the monitor, grabbed his newspaper from the kitchen counter, and strode to the eight foot square patch of carpet that passed for a living room. The taupe carpet was blackened from foot traffic and riddled with rats’ teeth marks. He rearranged two red afghans over his gray recliner, covering where the stuffing was coming out while protecting his sensitive skin from the irritants ground hopelessly into it.

  He settled into his chair and took a sniff of the newspaper. “Good old newsprint.” The only clean smelling thing in this dump. He smiled. Why sit there and read a bunch of lies and fabrications on the internet when he could read lies and fabrications in a good old American newspaper? He reached into the cigarette pack in his pocket, withdrew one of his blissful cancer sticks, and slipped it in his mouth.

  No, Rosie needed him. Even with his life insurance, she and her mom wouldn’t make it without his alimony checks. He put the cigarette back in his pack. On the bright side, he was still worth more alive at the moment, he was down to two packs a week, and he’d be dead before he could get lung cancer from smoking anyway.

  “Razzle Dazzle” played on the lace-covered cardboard box serving as an end table. He picked up his cell phone. “Farrow speaking.”

  “Hi, this is Anne Falkenberg. The FDA just voted.”

  Mitch held the phone tight. It was his attorney.

  “They decided the drug needed more testing.”

  Mitch dropped the phone. A stream of curse words left his mouth. He grabbed the phone. “It’s been used in Europe for five years.”

  “I know this is disheartening. Understand, though, they’re just wanting to make sure that the drugs are safe and people are healthy.”

  Mitch huffed a shallow breath. “None of them have AIDS. None of them have an ex-wife and daughter who have AIDS. This is what 235 years of democracy has produced in this country, a bureaucracy that fiddles while people waste away and die.”

  “I know it’s frustrating.”

  Mitch laughed. “Frustrating is when your DSL won’t work. Seeing your daughter suffer and knowing she and her mom are going to die like you are isn’t frustrating.”

  Tears welled in his eyes. He clutched the receiver with a death grip.

  “Mitch?”

  “Anne, I’m hanging up. I know you did all you can, but I’ve got a lot of vinegar to spew.” He punched the red end call button, hurled his cell phone across the room, and let out a primal scream.

  He stared at the ceiling. “Why, God? If you’re there, why didn’t you let me die in the accident rather than get that accursed transfusion?”

  What was he doing? That was silly and pathetic.

  Time for some meaningful, purposeful venting to the folks who read his website. No question he was going to blog about the FDA Nazis.

  Still, he should check what else was going on. He flipped through the classifieds and spotted:

  Help Wanted: Cynic

  Change the World

  Great pay and benefits.

  Send application to Box C, Seattle Guardian

  He chuckled. If you need a cynic, I’m the man for the job.

  Dave slouched beside Naomi on a couch in their marriage counselor’s waiting room. He mentally played classic death march music.

  Dr. Rose came out. He was a man in his sixties and dressed in a mock turtleneck and a pair of khakis. “Dave, Naomi, come on in.”

  He led them into his office and settled at his desk, which sported a silver laptop, a brief case, and assorted papers and sticky notepads. Naomi perched on a soft plush gray couch. Dave plopped beside her and folded his arms.

  Behind them was two large posters. One showed Powerhouse flying by the Space Needle. The other portrayed a bull elephant grazing in the African Savanna. The rest of the wall was oak paneling.

  Dr. Rose tapped his finger tips together, “It’s good to see you again. I meant to say hello at family camp.”

  Dave blinked. “You were at our church’s family camp?”

  “Oh yes, but there were so many people. I did get to see your family get baptized. That was very moving.” He flipped open his notebook. “So why are we here?”

  “I did something wrong.”

  Naomi frowned at Dave. “Why do you always have to think like that?”

  Dr. Rose smiled. “We may want to talk some more about communication. Naomi, how are you doing?”

  “I’m worried about Dave. He seems depressed.”

  Dave stiffened. “I’m fine.”

  “Honey, you’re just going through the motions, even with your superhero stuff collection. You’re not fine. You’re on auto pilot.”

  Dr. Rose leaned forward. “Dave, are you happy?”

  Dave pursed his lips. “I got my wife and kids back. We’re going to a great church. I’ve got a good house. There’s nothing not to be happy about.”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  Darn, he noticed that. Dave sighed. “Maybe I’ve felt a little down, but that’s life.”

  Naomi patted his hand. “I did some research online. Maybe it’s because you’re only earning residual income. Maybe you need productive work.”

  Dave glowered. “Excuse me. What do you call mopping floors, cleaning toilets, trimming hedges, and weeding your garden? That’s work.”

  Naomi laughed. “This is backwards.”

  Dr. Rose cleared his throat. “Dave, you were employed for someone else before James was shot, I believe. What were your duties, again?”

  “I cleaned an FBI warehouse. I’d finish early, grab a comic book, and read it in the broom closet in case an agent came by, so I wouldn’t look like I was loafing.”

  “And what do you do now?”

  “Well, I clean the house each day and take care of the property outside the house as needed, grab a comic book, and stay by the duster so Naomi won’t think I’m loafing.” Oh wait, the boss was listening. He cringed at his wife. “Oops.”

  Dr. Rose took off his glasses. “So your work hasn’t changed all that much, only whether you’re getting a paycheck for it.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Could you go back to the old job?”

  “No.” Dave scowled. “Agent Polk said I’d been replaced with a robot as a cost-saving measure, though he said it won’t save any money for sixty years because it costs two million dollars to buy the robot and I only earned thirty-six thousand a year, but the company that made the robot was owned by our Congressman’s nephew.”

  Naomi cleared her throat. “We’re getting a little off-topic.”

  Dr. Rose glanced to her. “This residual income you mentioned. What’s it from?”

  Dave adjusted his collar and muttered, “Royalties.”

  “From what?”

  Dave squirmed.

  Dr. Rose leaned back in his chair. “Dave, our professional relationship has been challenged by one key problem. You’re hiding something. I can’t give you good counsel, if you don’t tell me what’s really going on.”

  Naomi elbowed Dave and whispered, “We can trust him.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  Dr. Rose peered at Dave. “Everything you tell me is confidential unless it’s an illegal activity or you’re a danger to yourself or others.”

  “Neither exception applies to this.” Naomi squeezed Dave’s shoulder. “If he can understand us completely, we can have fewer counseling sessions.”

  Dave sighed. “You promise not to tell?”

  Dr. Rose nodded. “I’m legally bound not to.”

  Keeping his gaze trained on Dr. Rose, Dave pointed over his shoulder at the Powerhouse poster. “That was me.”

  Chapter
2

  Powerhouse’s Next Adventure

  Dave took a deep breath. Would the doc believe him?

  Dr. Rose raised an eyebrow. “You were an African elephant?”

  “Oops, wrong poster.” He glanced behind him, pointed at the Powerhouse poster, and faced Dr. Rose, leaning forward. “That was me.”

  Dr. Rose raised an eyebrow at Naomi.

  Naomi smiled wide and closed her eyes. “He flew me through the air in his arms just like I was Lois Lane.”

  “Okay.” Dr. Rose coughed. “Dave, how did it happen?”

  Dave slouched against the back of the couch. “Long ago, on a distant planet, the strange visitor to our world named Zolgron was the champion and protector of the Karonites. He was powerful and mighty and plotted to make himself king. The Creator transformed him into a symbiote only capable of changing shapes and empowering others and sentenced him to wander with no might of his own until he’d learned his lesson. He journeyed across the galaxy and went through many hosts until he finally reached Earth.”

  Dr. Rose blinked. “That sounds like it’s from a comic book.”

  “Oh, it is.” Dave beamed. “Only my stories are all true.”

  “Okay,” Dr. Rose said with a sigh. “Continue then.”

  “Where was I? Oh yes.” Dave cleared his throat. “Zolgron fell into the hands of a mindless, unimaginative terrorist determined to wipe Albuquerque off the Earth. The Feds killed the villain and found a strange metal cylinder on his corpse. The Feds issued the cylinder a life sentence in the Top Secret warehouse where I worked and asked me to wash him off before they locked him in his crate.”

  “Destroying evidence?” Dr. Rose gaped.

  “Uh, no, the Feds dismissed the cylinder as irrelevant to their case. They couldn’t destroy Zolgron, though, so they locked him up where they put all the stuff they don’t want anyone to know about. Anyway, I became obsessed with the cylinder, opened the crate, and became Zolgron’s host, obtaining untold powers. After choosing a secret identity and costume, I set off to fight as Powerhouse.” Dave’s mouth was too dry. Man, these origin stories were a mouthful. He grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge by the couch, gulped half the bottle down, and plopped back down.