Powerhouse Hard Pressed

by Adam Graham

  What kind of idiot wore open-toed shoes while trying to breaking into a high security area? “I’m the Pharaoh. You’re trespassing on my land. Why?”

  She picked her nails. “I-I wanted to see Major Speed. Then I was going to call Powerhouse to have him get Speed out.”

  Why did she spill that so easily? “How did you find him?”

  “A friend from church knew one of your men and showed us a picture one day. I recognized him as one of the guys who’d come into the hospital. She said he’d sent her a postcard from Texas, so I hitchhiked down here to find out if it was really him.”

  Ah, this airhead was the aide from the nursing home. “Which man?”

  “No. I’m not going to put my friend in danger.”

  The Pharaoh scowled. “Thomas, tell the men, no more mail home.”

  Thomas strode in from off-screen and stood behind the woman. “Yes, Pharaoh. What do we do with the girl?”

  The Pharaoh stared at her. “What is your name?”

  “Karen Jerome.”

  “Did you come here after Powerhouse’s $100,000 reward for information leading to the location of Major Speed?”

  “There’s a reward?” She blinked at him and bit her lip. “I’d give it to the church. I only came here because I made a big mistake that got my friend in serious trouble. I had to help him. I called Powerhouse but got the sales line for his insurance company and left him a message that I’d call back.”

  “Did you tell them where you were?”

  “Oh. Guess I should’ve done that.” She lowered her head. “Lord, why did you make—er, allow me to grow up to be such a klutz?”

  The naïve girl was actually telling the truth. “I could have you killed.”

  “Only if God allows it.” She swallowed hard. “The only good thing in my life is God. If I get to be with the Lord, fine by me.”

  Pharaoh stared at her. Her determined eyes. She would’ve been beautiful, if some cruel jerk hadn’t beaten her confidence to death.

  Mitch closed his eyes. He’d done a story on abuse victims like this one clearly was. The abusers did their evil work so thoroughly, only religion’s false hope held together the timid, numb, empty shells they turned once-vibrant little girls into.

  Well, she might be of some use as a hostage. Pharaoh folded his arms and stared hard at the intruder. “I’m not going to kill you but not because I fear your God.” Or Santa Claus for that matter. “You’re simply not a threat. Stay here as our guest. “

  Thomas growled. “Boss, she knows too much!”

  “Dufus, if you want to remain in my employ, stop mindlessly creating mounds of bodies. Go outfit a room for her with appropriate precautions for our guest. Also take her to a web browser and order her a few changes of clothes.”

  Karen’s trembling eased up. “Can I see Major Speed?”

  “Provided you don’t touch the T.V. or his I.V. Thomas, send a man with her.”

  Major Speed reached for the I.V. His hand landed an inch short. Was he ever going to get this?

  The door opened and Karen practically glided across the floor. She wore a pair of tight jeans and a T-shirt with a little angel on it. Tears filled her eyes as she patted his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Major.” She stroked his hand. “This is all my fault.”

  Warmth filled his cheeks and his crown felt fuzzy. Aside from his mother, a woman had never touched him liked that.

  She covered her face and sniffled. “I’ve been reading your new comic books. You were a great hero, and it’s my fault you’re here. I’m so sorry.”

  New comic? As in something other than that silly, two-issue thing that old Ace had gotten published? She shouldn’t beat herself up. Without her, he never would’ve gotten out of the hospital and he would’ve gone mad with all that garbage on T.V.

  “Don’t worry, though. Powerhouse will find us. The FBI’s looking for you, too.”

  Thomas grabbed her arm. “Enough chatter. You’re distracting him from the TV. So no talking and keep the touchy stuff to a minimum. Now, get back to your guest quarters. We got a room all made up for you.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Don’t tempt me to pop you, lady.” Thomas dragged her out.

  Major Speed reached toward the IV and touched it.

  Only a little farther.

  He had to get out of here. For Karen.

  Chapter 15

  Powerhouse v. The Sheriff of the Sea

  Dave lay on his couch in Bryerton as he read the latest of the Superman Chronicles collections.

  Naomi came out to the living room. She wore skinny Levis and a sweatshirt. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  “Sure. Go ahead and have fun with Carmella. I could use a good rest before I fly to Seattle for Saturday night.” Powerhouse’s cell phone rang. Dave picked it up. “Powerhouse here.”

  ‘This is Officer Tony Swenson from Bible study. I’m here with Jeff Rogers. This guy, calls himself the Sheriff of Atlantis, says he wants to challenge you to a duel to the death. We tried to take him for disorderly conduct. He disarmed us and told us to summon you.”

  So much for a relaxing morning and afternoon. “I’ll be there in twelve minutes.”

  “Okay.” He shouted to someone else, “Sir, Powerhouse will be here in about twelve minutes!” He cleared his throat. “Powerhouse, see you in a few.”

  “See you then.” He turned to Naomi. “I’m going into the city. Someone’s challenged Powerhouse to a duel to the death.”

  “Again?” Naomi shrugged. “At least it usually doesn’t take long. Last time you left at 3:30 and were back in time for dinner.”

  “This guy sounds more dangerous. He says he’s Sheriff of Atlantis.”

  “Why would he want a duel to the death?”

  Dave shrugged. “I have no idea. I think that’s just what they do in Atlantis.”

  “You should probably find out.”

  Dave waved. “This type never wants to talk. Just pray for me.”

  “Okay, if you think you need it.”

  What was with her? Dave kissed his wife goodbye, jogged out to the backyard, and X-rayed through fence. Neighbors were out of town. He transformed into Powerhouse and zoomed upward into the gloomy gray skies. He flew to the Seattle pier.

  At the edge of the pier stood a man in resplendent Greek battle armor worn over a brown tunic. His armor included a gold belt, and he had wings on his sandals.

  Must be the guy. Powerhouse landed at the other end of the pier. “You the Sheriff of Atlantis?”

  The Sheriff of Atlantis put his arms on his hips. “Are you the fella they call Powerhouse?”

  “Yes, now answer me. Are you the guy who attacked my friends?”

  “I’m Plato, the Sheriff of Atlantis. I simply disarmed hostile fellas who refused to be reasonable. I’m here to stop your plot to oppress my people.”

  Huh? Powerhouse shook his head. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

  “You’d better just ’fess on up, son, and give me three good reasons not to execute you in an honorable duel to the death.”

  From out of the sea jumped a woman in a one-piece swimsuit made of seaweed. She wore a fishbowl full of water on her head. Hitting the sheriff in the torso, she shoved him into the ocean.

  He struggled for a second before sticking his head out of the water. “Sir, I’ll be with you in a second. Just havin’ a talk with my wife.”

  “Take your time.” Man, these wannabe supervillain fights were getting weirder and weirder.

  A boomerang whirred through the air. Powerhouse caught it. Not him again. He rocketed to its source.

  The Boomerang Bloke stood a hundred feet from the edge of the pier, shaking his fist. “Give me back my boomerang!”

  “No, I’ve had about enough. I’m in the middle of a serious battle.”

  The Boomerang Bloke puffed out his chest. “You bet your life, you’re in the battle to the death against the Boomerang Bloke!”

  “Oh really? T
hen do something.”

  The boomerang bloke moved his hands nervously and glanced up at Powerhouse. “I will if you give me back me boomerang.”

  “Okay, but anything else you throw at me is mine.”

  He gasped. “But I’m the Boomerang Bloke.”

  “Guess you need to be shown I’m serious, so this one is mine, too.”

  He whimpered. “But that was me dad’s boomerang.”

  Powerhouse sighed. “If you want it back, you have to stop throwing it at me—and I’ll snap it in two if you break your word.”

  The Boomerang Bloke stuck out his lip. “It’s not fair! You’re ruining my chance to make a name as a great supervillain, but I can’t lose my dad’s boomerang. All right, Powerhouse, I swear never to throw another boomerang at you—you blighter.”

  Powerhouse handed the boomerang over and ran back to the edge of the pier. One wannabe supervillain down and one Atlantean anti-hero left to deal with.

  The sheriff came out of the water and stood on the pier, his shoulders hunched and his face pink. “Powerhouse, do you happen to be workin’ on DVD encryption technology that would make it impossible for us to play them on our machines?”

  What? Powerhouse stammered. “Um, no. I wouldn’t know anything about that. Even if I were smart enough to be involved, I wouldn’t have known you existed and that it’d be a problem and would’ve wanted to work out a peaceful solution.”

  The woman with the fish bowl on her head jumped on the dock and stared at the sheriff like Naomi gloating about being right.

  Poor guy.

  The crimson sheriff cleared his throat. “Guess you do have the look of a warrior, not a scientist. Apparently, there’s done been some mistake.”

  “Who told you I was going to make it so folks in Atlantis couldn’t watch DVDs?”

  The sheriff’s nostrils glared. “Three rascals who’d better not show their faces in Atlantis again.”

  Didn’t give their names, huh? “No harm done. I’ll square this with the cops. At least the press didn’t show up.”

  TV news vans sped up and stopped. Cameramen and reporters jumped out of them.

  The woman jumped back into the sea.

  The sheriff scowled. “If I jump into the sea, the surface world and my own people will think me a coward. If I explain why I’m here, they’ll think me a fool.”

  Powerhouse strode to right beside the guy and slapped his back like they were old pals. “Let’s talk a second.” He glanced at the TV cameras. “Away from the media.”

  They jogged away along the seaside.

  Powerhouse whispered, “Whoever set this up is a mutual enemy who wants us to be enemies. The best way to defeat them is by being friends.”

  “But how will we save face with your media?”

  Powerhouse smiled. “Watch.”

  He dashed to the press and beckoned for the sheriff.

  Once the sheriff caught up, Powerhouse cleared his throat. “I have a statement to make. With me is the Sheriff of Atlantis. He heard of me and wanted to meet me. We’re going to go on a tour of the city, and I’ll show him the sights.”

  Kelli Michaels raised her hand. “Powerhouse! We heard there was going to be a battle to the death between you and the Sheriff of Atlantis.”

  Powerhouse looked around. “Do you see a battle? We’re having a friendly meeting. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

  He spun away from the cameras and marched off with the sheriff.

  The sheriff dipped his head. “Powerhouse, you’ve been right kind. I’ll enjoy this tour of your city. I’m sure it’ll be mighty nice.”

  Powerhouse nodded and glanced at the water. “Will your wife want to come along?”

  The sheriff frowned. “No. She can only breathe underwater, and she feels silly walking around with a fish bowl on her head.”

  “Can’t say I blame her. Um, if you’ll let me carry you, we can fly.”

  “I can fly myself with the power of my mighty belt.” The sheriff pressed a button on his belt. He rose like a hot air balloon.

  “Sweet.” Powerhouse flew up with his new best friend.

  Mitch Farrow slouched next to Fournier in Varlock’s office, tapping his fingers. Varlock sat across from them in a floating chair behind his floating desk. Mitch’s cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID. Kelli Michaels. He picked up. “How’s the battle between Powerhouse and the Atlantean going?”

  “The score is Powerhouse 6, Sheriff of Atlantis 5, I’m afraid.”

  In the background, the sheriff’s voice boomed. “Ha! Take that. I scored a goal and it’s now tied. For the Glory of Atlantis, I shall defeat you!”

  Something was wrong. Mitch’s stomach tightened. “Kelli, what type of battle are they having?”

  “Uh, they’re playing air hockey at a local arcade. Powerhouse also took him to Pioneer Square, a comic bookstore, and they stopped at a coffee shop, a local one not one of the chains. Powerhouse paid cash for coffee and donuts.”

  “What?” Mitch groaned. “That’s all wrong!”

  “Since when is it a crime to show our visiting Atlantean a good time? Oh, wait, this is positive news, and you don’t want any positive news broken.” She had a sarcastic edge to her voice. “Since they’re not killing each other, should I abandon this?”

  “No, follow them and write up a story about their bromance.”

  “I gotcha.”

  “Be sure to use the word, ‘bromance.’”

  “I’ve been in this business for years, and you’re way overstepping your bounds, sir.” Kelli sighed. “You’ll like my angle on it, no worries.”

  In the background, Plato said, “Ha, I’ve triumphed!”

  “Congrats,” Powerhouse said. “Let me show you the Seattle Center.”

  “I’d better like your angle.” Mitch hung up and pocketed his phone.

  Fournier asked, “Why did you insist on using the term bromance?”

  “It demeans male friends, makes them sound weird and awkward. Unfortunately, that’s a childish victory.” Mitch turned to Varlock. “Once again your plan is failed.”

  Varlock smiled. “Once again, you forget to blame the right person for this. If your Dr. Fournier had come up with a more believable reason for Plato to attack Powerhouse, then my plan would have succeeded.”

  “No such reason existed.” Mitch rolled his eyes. “Once they turned out to not be a bunch of uptight, waterlogged malcontents, you were finished.”

  Varlock stuck his tongue out and swished it like an angry cat’s tail. “I told you!”

  “And now I’m telling you. Until King Bel directly asks me to resign and I hire you to replace me, I am still the CEO of Dorado Incorporated and I do not report to you. If that is understood, you may continue to assist me, but I don’t buy that your culture is the den of sociopaths that you claim it is, and I will indulge only so much of that.” Mitch added a curse word. “If you really do need an underling to pin your mistakes on, get your own underling. I’m withdrawing mine.”

  “Thanks, Boss!” Fournier glared at Varlock. “Sir, the line between how much force you can use without it backfiring on you isn’t where you seem to think it is, if you get my meaning. I thought of something that gave us the only chance we had.”

  “If Farrow writes a report to that effect, your defense will go into consideration, but it won’t change the fact your effort failed.” Varlock stared at Mitch with bloodlust in his eyes. “Still, you needn’t fear for your lives. I need your help with Plan Three.”

  Powerhouse and Sheriff Plato sat in the Seattle Chief of Police’s office as Sheriff Plato went through the mug book. All three had cups of coffee.

  Sheriff Plato flipped though page after page. “Nothing. The lowdown scallywags who tried to trick me aren’t here.”

  Chief Stone Bachmann leaned back in his high-backed office chair. “You’ve gone through all our books in four minutes. How can you be sure?”

  “My belt gives me the power to read right quick with full com
prehension.” Sheriff Plato beamed. “I can also read in English, Chinese, Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese. They’re not in here.”

  Agent Polk entered carrying a couple more mug books.

  “Hey, Agent Polk!” Powerhouse waved.

  “Hello, Sheriff Plato.” Polk glanced away from Sheriff Plato and glared at Powerhouse. “I’m Special Agent in Charge Polk of the FBI. Powerhouse called about your case. As a courtesy, I’ve brought by some FBI mug books.”

  Sheriff Plato dipped his head. “Why, thank you, sir. That’s mighty kind of you.”

  He began to flip through the book.

  Powerhouse glanced up at Agent Polk. “Any leads on Karen Jerome?”

  Polk sighed and shook his head. “The trail went cold in San Antonio. Doesn’t necessarily mean she disappeared. She had other parts of the journey where she wasn’t seen for days. She was probably using cash or sleeping in a car, but she was definitely heading in a southeast direction. So she thought Major Speed was either near San Antonio or further southeast, into one of the other states. Hopefully, she’ll reappear.”

  “I’ll let the Fortieth Street Detectives know.”

  “There!” Sheriff Plato screamed. “There is one of the varmits.”

  Polk peeked over Sheriff Plato’s shoulder and whistled. “Hello, Dr. Fournier.”

  That name sounded familiar. Who—oh, duh. Powerhouse pounded his right fist into his left palm. “Of course! He worked with Tony Silvano on the force field gun. The same type of force field that was fired at me a few months back.”

  Polk nodded. “Yeah, we tried him on conspiracy charges, but Marco bought him a silver tongued lawyer and got him off.”

  Powerhouse grimaced and peeked at the photo. “Why, this guy looks nothing like the Dr. Fournier I know! Mine had wild, Doc Brown hair and funny looking teeth.”

  “That was a disguise to fit into Marco’s organization. He also made up a wife and kids he doesn’t have to avoid Marco killing him.”

  “Aw, so his new appearance is ret-conned.”