Powerhouse Hard Pressed

by Adam Graham

  “What’s the question?”

  “Okay, I’ll rephrase it. How can you, as a Christian, accept this woman into your line and declare her a hero and a role model for girls?”

  Why were people who demanded not to be judged so unforgiving of others’ past mistakes? Powerhouse cupped his hands. “You sure you want to ask that?” He squirmed. “To answer it, I’d have to try to explain my religious beliefs. I’m not smart enough, and I doubt you’d quote me anyway.”

  Kelli said, “Off the record, then. “

  Powerhouse raised an eyebrow. Come on, even I’m not dumb enough to think you can go off the record with forty television cameras running and a room full of fans posting videos on YouTube. “No, whoever wants to quote me can.” What was it his pastor always said? Oh yeah. “Christianity isn’t for perfect people. It’s for imperfect people who desire God’s help to become perfect, um, by grace.”

  The reporters all stared at him cross-eyed.

  “Hey, I warned you!” He laughed.

  Okay back to the statement, but he was cutting out the childish part that amounted to him saying for Miss Invisible, “You’re only picking on me because I’m a girl! Batman, Ironman, and Green Arrow all did it, too—and they’re not even sorry!” This wasn’t the time to argue for lower standards.

  Best to go to the part that truly mattered. “The fact is, girls who have made mistakes need a role model who can show them by her example that they too can turn their lives around. And we don’t even have to make someone up, because Miss Invisible is the perfect role model to meet that need, and Blue Cat Comics is glad to have her.”

  Mitch Farrow sat at his desk, typing a speech.

  Someone knocked on the door. Mitch glanced up. “Who is it?”

  “Chewbacca,” Fournier said.

  Farrow got up and opened the door. “What do you want?”

  “To sit down, put my feet up, and take off my head.” He made a Wookie roar.

  Sheesh. Did he really need this clown? Mitch sighed. “Only for a minute.”

  “Did you hear Powerhouse’s press conference yesterday? It doesn’t look like your plan worked. He came off pretty good.”

  So much for Fournier having any ability to judge good from bad. “Au contraire, my mad scientist. Powerhouse added fuel to the fire. I’m writing a speech that will—”

  “You’ll never replace me with speech writers.”

  “I can try.”

  “Uh-huh.” Fournier folded Chewbacca’s arms. “While you speech Powerhouse to death, do you mind if I do some independent research on plausible ways to kill him?”

  If it’ll get you out of my hair. “Just don’t get into trouble.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Powerhouse stood at the podium with Zolgron behind him. “Now, everyone, give it up for Big Gray!”

  Zolgron lumbered forward. “I’ll take your questions.”

  A fan raised his hand. “What is your real purpose for being on this planet? You can’t be here simply to help us.”

  “Do I understand correctly that you’re asking this because you are prejudiced and thus believe the stereotype that aliens only come to your planet to take it over?”

  Powerhouse coughed. That was Zolgron’s original agenda.

  Zolgron glowered at him. “Fine, the truth is, I risk life and limb fighting evil in every corner of your world so I can someday get a show on the Food Network.”

  Everyone but Powerhouse laughed.

  Zolgron growled. “I’m serious. The only reason I agreed to do a silly comic book is that it will include a four-page cooking comic.”

  A guy with acne in his twenties asked, “What powers do you have?”

  “All the powers that Powerhouse has, only twenty-five percent more potent, plus I can digitize myself and travel inside your computers like Gridman.”

  Everyone let out a gasp half way through that, but then most sent him assorted confused looks. Guess they hadn’t heard of Zolgron’s favorite 1990s Japanese TV show.

  Zolgron grunted and muttered, “American-centric barbarians.”

  Powerhouse cleared his throat. “I guess that’s the end of the conference.”

  A short Chewbacca wearing a pink bow tie slid up beside Powerhouse and tugged on his arm. “Could I talk to you?”

  “Anything for a fan.”

  “I’m curious. Do you have any weaknesses like kryptonite?”

  In the kryptonite category? “Not that I know of.”

  “Could I take a few readings? I’m studying science at the university here and writing a paper on superheroes. I would like to take a look at a real-life case.”

  Powerhouse winced. “There are a lot of fans here.”

  Chewbacca reached into the pocket of his duffel bag. “This device will take your readings while you walk. It’ll only take two minutes.”

  Powerhouse X-rayed the device. It was a normal medical scanner. “Go ahead.”

  Chewbacca slapped the device on Powerhouse’s arm. “I’ll wait for it to finish.”

  “Okay.” Powerhouse glanced up and smiled at Naomi and the boys. Silly James was wearing a boring denim shirt and jeans, but Derrick had on a cool Captain America costume, complete with shield.

  Powerhouse walked over to Dave Johnson’s family and shook the hand of Dave’s wife. “Greetings, citizen. Oh, wait, you’re my CEO.”

  Naomi half-smiled. “Hi, Powerhouse. Sorry my husband couldn’t make it.”

  Hopefully, he wouldn’t forget to pretend he wasn’t Dave Johnson. “I’m glad you were able to get here for the weekend.” He glanced at Derrick. “The costume looks nice.”

  James groaned and turned red. “H-he p-put it on in t-the airport b-bathroom!”

  Derrick shoved his brother. “This is the only time I can dress up as Captain America outside of Halloween!” Derrick frowned. “Mom said I had to get a haircut.”

  Naomi smiled. “I said you could go as Thor if you wanted to keep your hair that long.”

  She definitely knew how to work things. She’d been nagging Derrick about his hair for three months. Powerhouse’s cell phone rang. “Hello.”

  “Hi, it’s Jeff Murphy. We got a problem. Farrow’s going after you tomorrow.”

  “Huh?”

  “They’re having big presentations from several industry people over in the arena. Blue Cat’s got a spot after him, but he’s dedicating his speech to explaining how you’re going to destroy comic books and take everything back to the 1940s. We need to work on a response. He could totally trash your image.”

  “You want me to go up to the hotel room?”

  “In a few minutes. I need to read everything in the speech first and begin to come up with areas we need to respond to.”

  “Okay, call me.” Powerhouse marched toward the exit.

  The bow-tied Chewbacca ran after him. “My scanner?”

  “Oh right.” Powerhouse removed it. “If you find anything, let me know. It might come in handy.”

  “You’ll find out in good time.”

  He sighed. This wasn’t fair. Comic Con was supposed to be fun. Instead he was stuck on tons of boring conference calls and hounded by crazy media people. Now he had to respond to an attack and miss time with his family.

  Why were they all coming after him? He was Vice-President of a comic book company, not Vice-President of the United States.

  Chapter 8

  Who Is That Masked Woman?

  Naomi gave Derrick a kiss on his well-kempt head as the boys lay as far way from each other as they could get in their hotel bed. “Good night.”

  She padded around to James’ side of the bed.

  He turned his face the other way. “I’m t-too old for th-that, Mom.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Especially if her hopes were right and he was simply punishing her for making him share a bed with his baby brother. His demand for a two-bedroom luxury suite had been totally unreasonable, especially when they were paying for Powerhouse�
��s room, too. “If I let you sleep in my bed when I’m not in it, will you be still young enough for a hug?”

  “Fine.” James sighed and hugged her.

  “Good night.” She slipped out into a beige hallway with violet carpets and closed their hotel room’s door. She pulled out her cell phone, and glanced at the time. Eleven o’clock and still no word from Dave. She dialed his personal number. It rang three times before he picked up.

  “How are you, Dave?”

  Dave yawned. “Tired. Finally got off the phone with Murphy.”

  “What? You started talking with him seven hours ago.”

  “Yeah. We took a break for dinner.”

  “You sound tense. Let me come over.”

  “No can do. If somebody taking photos sees a married woman come into my room, I’d either to have to give up my secret identity or have my reputation totally trashed.”

  “That only happened on a TV show.”

  “So was someone threatening to sue a superhero until they tried it on me. I’m not taking any chances. I better go. This call could be monitored, too. I’d have to explain why I have Dave Johnson’s cell phone and why his wife is after me.” Dave hung up.

  Naomi frowned. He was being ridiculous, but maybe he wasn’t. If only there was some way to get into his hotel room without being seen.

  A guy in a Jedi robe came around the corner in the hall, stayed on his side as he came toward her, and kept going on past her.

  She’d never seen so many silly costumes. That was it. She smiled. She only needed a costume. Then she could go to Powerhouse’s room and not cause any problems. She dashed to the vending machines’ room and closed its door.

  What costume? Star Trek? Nope, it wouldn’t disguise her face. If she changed her face, Dave would find out she had superpowers. She needed something with a mask.

  Batgirl. Of course. She whispered, “Clothes, transform into a purple Batgirl costume with a yellow bat symbol on it, and yellow utility belt. Oh, add a long red wig out the back of my cowl to complete the look.”

  The confining garment and scratchy wig popped onto her.

  How do I look? She said, “Full length mirror appear beside vending machine.”

  It appeared and she stared at herself. Not bad. A little shiny and a little retro, maybe, but it’d do. She cracked open the door and stuck her head out. Coast was clear.

  She eased out the door and tiptoed down the hall. Powerhouse’s room was on another floor. Where was the elevator? She glanced around. It was at the end of the hall. A door opened. A man in a bathrobe glanced out at her and shut the door.

  Naomi’s heart leapt in her throat. He saw her. No, he saw Batgirl. That’s the point of a disguise. You don’t have to worry about being seen.

  She stopped outside the elevator and pressed the up button.

  The elevator swished open. A black man in a Batman T-shirt and black shorts got out. “Wow, that’s a great costume.”

  “Thank you.” She rode the elevator up to the seventh floor, strode down the hall to Powerhouse’s door. (cut-and wagged her finger at it. “Open up, you—silently.)

  Wait. She should probably check and see if there are any reporter types out. None in the hall.

  She walked next door to Powerhouse's. Time to try the x-ray vision. She looked through the door. The room was unoccupied.

  She said to the door. "Door open."

  The door slammed open loudly. Naomi grimaced, glanced around and jumped into the room.

  She walked into the spacious suite in the dark, across the lush carpet. She tripped and fell onto a bed.

  She got up and grimaced. Okay, you can be a klutz with superpowers too. She felt in front of her until she found the curtain.

  Two men stood in the parking lot holding cameras.

  Naomi tuned her airs to hear what they were saying.

  One cameraman said, "That's a nice camera."

  The other one chuckled. "It's an experimental model from Dorado Photographic. It's the best night vision camera ever. It's not quite x-ray vision, but if there's an even silhouette in Powerhouse's window that shouldn't be there, I'll get full detail."

  Naomi grimaced. They were just peeping toms who worked for newspaper. What to do? Well, wearing the Batgirl costume, she could throw a bataran

  Naomi shook her head. I need to get them out of here, not make them curious. She snapped her fingers. "That's it." Just give the muckraking "journalists" a more inviting target.

  Naomi said, "Imagine text message on phone of Farrow's man from Mitch Farrow, 'Kim Kardashan and Tim Tebow at airport at same tight, having fistfight. Go at once."

  Farrow's man looked at his cell phone and ran off.

  The other one said, "Where you going? You got a story don't you? Is it the Kardashians? Or Tebow?"

  "Better, both."

  The two journalists sped away like sharks after a school of fish.

  Naomi walked to the connecting door between the two suites. "Open up, you—silently."

  It did, and she crept in.

  Powerhouse lay awake in his hotel room bed. He glanced at the clock on the oak night stand. Midnight.

  The phone rang. At this hour? Powerhouse grabbed it. “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s Batgirl,” Naomi’s voice said. “I see the light on through your window. Can I come over?”

  Powerhouse shook his head. “Honey, we already talked about this.”

  “You talked to that wife of yours. Just wait a couple minutes.”

  The phone went dead.

  Why was she doing this to him? Was it a full moon or what? Powerhouse stared up at the wall. He glanced over the four page speech on the table and sighed. How was he ever going to say all that? Did he really have to?

  “Hello.” The alleged Bat-Naomi’s voice purred like she was Catwoman.

  He spun, his hackles up, his arms positioned to guard his vital organs.

  In the middle of the room stood Batgirl girl from the 1960s TV show.

  Powerhouse blinked. “How’d you get in here?” Wait, why was he smiling? He shook his head. No. “Never mind. Just get out!”

  Batgirl smiled like Naomi. “Batgirl doesn’t knock on doors, does she?”

  “Wow! I must’ve given you a duplicate key or something.” He glanced Naomi over and then whistled. “You look good in that.”

  “It’s the only female superhero costume I could think of that disguises anything important. Well, Miss Invisible’s costume is modest even when she’s visible, but she didn’t bother with a mask.”

  Huh. In terms of female superheroes, he’d pegged Naomi for the Invisible Woman, but Sue Richards also didn’t have a secret identity. “You shouldn’t have done this. With all those photographers around, we could already be in big trouble.”

  She pursed her lips. “I know you were paranoid someone might catch you with your wife, and you’d get in trouble for making out with her, but I’m not Naomi Johnson. I’m just a Powerhouse fan in a Batgirl costume. As long as you act like a gentleman, no one will begrudge you some time with a lovely Batgirl. Maybe even a little kiss.”

  “Not even my wife? You’re incredible. Literally.”

  “Okay, so maybe this stalker will have to settle for what you’d allow a stalker.”

  Yeah, right. She’d already messed up what any old Batgirl who showed up in his room unexpected would actually get, thrown out. “You want some water?”

  She nodded.

  Powerhouse superimagined two water bottles and handed her one.

  Bat-Naomi opened hers. “So what’s keeping you up tonight?”

  “This speech.” He waved at where it lay on the table. “I know every word, but I don’t know about delivering it.”

  Bat-Naomi picked up the speech and flipped through it. “It may be too defensive, but otherwise it’s good. It responds to all the horrible stuff Mitch Farrow said and makes some good philosophical points. The biggest problem is it doesn’t sound like you.”

  “Exactly.” Powerhous
e nodded. “I don’t know what to do. I mean, Mitch Farrow has slammed me, and Jeff Murphy says I have to respond with this.”

  “You don’t have to respond in kind. I almost think he wants you to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To men like Murphy and Farrow, this is a competitive sport. They’re hoping you’ll let Murphy string you up as his puppet so they can play ball through you. For proof, consider how Farrow put his speech on his website thirty-six hours in advance. Why would he do that? He wants the public to see you in the mud with him, and most would. Only the people in on the game would realize you’re only Murphy’s puppet.”

  “Gosh, you’re right!” Powerhouse punched his right fist into his left hand. “So, I should listen to my instincts and not let Murphy call all the shots, so that I can avoid the perils and pitfalls of Farrow?”

  She wrinkled her brow and glanced aside like she did when she was thinking.

  Farrow—Pharaoh? “Huh. Here I’m facing a nemesis named Farrow, but the Pharaoh has been giving me the most trouble in Seattle. So, do I have two antagonists whose names sound alike?” He leaned against the wall. “Or do I just have one?”

  “You think Rachel’s ex-husband is the Pharaoh?” Naomi laughed. “That Mitch Farrow is guilty of being a deadbeat, but he finally got a real job and has started sending the checks. Trust me, he’s not a supervillain. Besides, if the Pharaoh can control a thousand robots and build a force field, why would he mess with media?”

  “Maybe media’s easier.”

  “Look, Mitch’s MO is giving speeches against you. The Pharaoh’s MO is using technology against you. Therefore, you have two entirely different antagonists.”

  If she said so. She was smarter than him, after all. “So you’re saying it’d be like thinking J Jonah Jameson was Doctor Octopus? Guess I get silly ideas at midnight.”

  “I’ve got a non-silly idea.” Bat-Naomi flashed him a hypnotic smile that went to her eyes, sashayed closer to Powerhouse, and stroked his chest up to his chin. “You could take off the helmet and give a girl a kiss.”

  Powerhouse’s heart pounded. Maybe one wouldn’t be too dangerous, after all. He superimagined his helmet transforming into a Zorro mask. “To keep my secret identity from any hidden cameras.”