Powerhouse Hard Pressed
Page 19
The principal folded her arms. “I’m well aware they were fighting over a girl.”
No way. Dave gaped. “If you mean what I think, you got it all wrong.”
“A common response in a tween boy to romantic feelings he fears is to become aggressive with the object of his affections—or with a competitor, as Derrick did.”
Dave’s chest heaved as he glowered. If Derrick had feared an adult would think he wanted to date the girl, he was withdrawing his son from this insane asylum. “My ten-year-old doesn’t have romantic feelings!”
The principal cleared her throat, still peering down her nose at them. “Regardless, your son’s behavior is totally unacceptable. He provoked the violent incident he was involved in when he responded aggressively to an already aggressive—”
“What!” Naomi snapped to her feet and clenched her fists. “He should absolutely not have looked the other way as a beautiful little girl got abused!”
Huh? Dave sighed. This must have reminded her of an unhappy event from her childhood. He rose and placed his arm around her.
The principle stared at them like they were naked tribal people on National Geographic. “We have a zero tolerance policy toward bullying. The student had been talked to in the past and was again today. He will serve a suspension, too.”
Naomi glared, eyes red hot. “Meaning my son is going to be suspended?”
“Yes, for three days, and his permanent record will note this incident.”
Naomi snarled. “Do you people have any common sense?”
“Of course not.” Dave snorted. “They have a zero tolerance policy on having common sense.”
The principal frowned. “Can we please act like adults here?”
“You start.” Dave rose and folded his arms. “Derrick is a good kid.”
“He broke the rules. Though, your wife’s employer is the party most at fault. Powerhouse teaches kids that violence is the answer, and violence is never the answer.”
Okay, he had to be careful here. “From what I’ve seen, he takes his suspects with as little violence as possible.”
“In any amount, using violence against his opponents sets children a bad example. Violence never solves anything.”
“Powerhouse shouldn’t have stopped the Robolawyers from destroying Seattle?”
“Not the way he did it. Violence only leads to more violence.”
“So you think the U.S. getting involved in World War II was wrong?”
The principal smiled. “If you wish to see the evils of war ended, you will partner with us in teaching our children that violence is never the answer.”
“Your children?” Naomi growled. “On second thought, dear, you were right. We do need to see a lawyer.”
Dave beamed. His smart wife said he was right about something.
The principle stiffened and leaned away from them. “Our zero tolerance policy is perfectly legal. If you want to make a fuss at the school board meeting, that’s your prerogative. However, everyone will have forgotten by election and you’ll just have created bad feelings that will make things difficult for everyone.”
“One way or another, you’re all fired!” Naomi stormed out of the office.
Dave glared. “She means we’ll be withdrawing Derrick from this school.”
“I doubt you’ll be able to do that, given Child Protective Services will be investigating my concerns he learned his violent ways at home.”
“You don’t scare me. They’ll laugh and roll their eyes at you.” Dave marched out and caught up to his wife in the hall. How soon could they start homeschooling? Wait, he couldn’t homeschool. The only subjects he was qualified to teach were all stuff like The Life and Times of Superman.
They reached Naomi’s minivan, and she slammed the driver’s side door.
Dave climbed in beside her. “We elect a school board?”
Naomi sighed. “I guess so. I’ve never seen them on the ballot before.”
“Maybe I should run.”
Naomi gaped. “But you’re the most non-political person I know.”
“What’s politics got to do with a corrupt school board hiring someone like that as principal?” Dave scratched his head. “I simply want to stand up for the children against bullies like her. I’m tired of them being told to behave.”
“Well, they should behave.”
“No, they should be good. When you’re good, you’re good all the time. When you’re just behaving, you’re only acting right so you don’t get in trouble. I’ve been by King County lock up and seen a lot of criminals who are behaving.”
Naomi smiled. “Point taken, but you don’t have time to run for school board.”
With all the boring meetings and wearing a suit, he’d have better luck trying to home school. “Well, somebody should!” Dave sighed. “What am I going to tell Derrick? He stood up for someone, and now he’s getting suspended. I would’ve given anything if someone would’ve done that for me. Was I wrong? I didn’t mean to get him in trouble.”
“No, you’re not wrong, honey. That principal was.” Naomi’s lip quivered. “This must be why I’ve gotten the feeling his teacher doesn’t like her. Was my threat to withdraw him hasty? His teacher is a good woman.”
“Sadly, good teachers have to obey their crazy bosses or lose their jobs, but of course we were too hasty. It’s the middle of the school year, and we haven’t even talked to the kids about it. Let’s pray about it for now, hon.”
The Pharaoh re-entered his underground lair. On the screen over his desk, Manners held up a black dress shoe. “This pair?” He grabbed another pair of identical-looking shoes. “Or this pair?”
Fournier shook his fist at the screen. “They’re both the same! And he said I was a deviant.”
“Oh, his definition of deviant is totally deviant.” Pharaoh sat at his desk.
Manners glanced out the window gasped. “My God, by all that is holy, there is a true evil! I must remedy it at once.” He grabbed one of the black pairs of shoes and sighed. “These will have to do to confront this menace.”
Fournier clapped his hands. “Finally some action.”
“Well.” Manners glanced at his shoes. “It can wait until I’ve applied a couple of coats of shoe polish.”
Fournier slammed his head into his hands and loosed a slow, “No!”
Dave sat on Derrick’s bed with Naomi next to him. His son cocked his head and wrinkled his forehead as he pressed his brows together. “I don’t understand. Didn’t I do the right thing, just like you told me to?”
Dave nodded. “Yeah, son. You did a good thing in protecting your friend.”
“Why did I get in trouble? It’s not fair.”
“You’re right.” Dave patted his son’s back. “Remember all the times Spider-Man got into trouble when he did the right thing?”
“Yeah. It stinks. So what are we gonna do?”
“It’s up to you, baby.” Naomi bit her lip. “We can bring the whole issue up to the school board, though I don’t know how much good it’ll do.”
Derrick sighed. “We might as well get the suspension over with.”
Naomi said, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t fall behind.”
Dave’s Powerhouse phone buzzed. Text message. “Son, I’m just—”
“Your phone’s buzzing.”
“It can wait.”
“You don’t know that. It could be someone in trouble.”
Dave sighed. He glanced at the text.
It was from Bachmann. “Superhuman destroying cars at First Hill.”
Dave glowered. “I’d better go. Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” Derrick sucked in his little boy gut. “Go.”
Dave gave his baby boy a hug and headed for the backyard. He changed into Powerhouse and took off on his jet. Poor kid. I don’t think I helped much.
Powerhouse zoomed through the twilight sky toward Seattle. He flew over the First Hill neighborhood. On a street, a man in a b
lack suit smashed the hood of a 1998 champagne-colored Ford Taurus and ripped off its fender with his bare hands.
A police car was stopped about half a block away.
Powerhouse landed by the police car. Officer Lathrup got out of it. He extended his hand. “Good to see you.”
Hey, he remembered this guy from the station. “What’s going on?”
The officer pointed. “My partner and I told him cease and desist. He said he was on a mission to save the world and threatened to hurt us if we got in his way. The chief said to wait for you, since this is a superhuman threat.”
“Yeah, I’ll take care of it officer. Powerhouse to action.” Powerhouse flew up behind the car-destroying miscreant.
Out of a house ran a king-sized man in a kilt. Kilt Guy had shoulder-length brown hair and a ruddy full beard. Kilt Guy screamed. “My car! You destroyed my car!”
The villain laughed as he faced away from Powerhouse. “That will teach you to park 19 1/2 inches from the curb rather than the legally required 18.”
Powerhouse pointed his index finger and raised his arm. “Cease your pointless destruction of the product of American manufacturing.”
“This Ford was made in Mexico,” The car-destroyer snapped as he turned around. It was the jerk from the restaurant who’d made fun of Dave Johnson. “Beware, barbarian, for I am Mister Manners! With my powers, I’m the supreme, just, and rightful defender of virtue, decency, and order.”
Powerhouse grimaced. “Then why are you smashing up cars?”
“I’m declaring war on improperly parked vehicles. They are a hazard.”
Powerhouse glanced around. “All of these scattered car parts in the middle of the road aren’t?”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Manners shrugged. “My mission is to stop evil wherever it lies.”
“You’re just a nasty etiquette blogger who needs taken down a peg.”
“That was the old me. Now, I’m the exalted guardian of justice and truth.”
Really? Powerhouse glanced over. I should pound him and let the police have him. Then again, I remember when I first got powers, I went around Bryerton enforcing minor laws. True, I wasn’t this destructive, or this full of it, but still I should give him a chance. It’s what Jesus would do, right? “Will you stop destroying cars?”
Manners stared up at Powerhouse’s muscles. “Yes.”
“Okay then. Let me see if I can fix this.” Powerhouse stared at the car and superimagined it back together.
Kilt Guy smiled. “Wow! Thanks, Powerhouse. You even fixed my windshield. Now I won’t have people putting business cards for window repair on it.”
Powerhouse grimaced. He had to be careful with repairs like this or he’d make auto body shops mad. He turned to Mister Manners. “How many others have you done?”
“About five.”
“Show me where they are.”
Mister Manners flew up above him. Powerhouse joined him. Mister Manners flew over each smashed car and Powerhouse imagined it restored to normal and parked properly.
They returned to the police car and landed.
Powerhouse turned to Mister Manners. “If you don’t want to be guilty of being a barbaric superhero, listen closely. This is the only time I’m going to give you this lesson on proper superhero etiquette. One, don’t threaten cops. Two, don’t threaten civilians, either. Three, also don’t deliberately damage property. Is that clear?”
Mister Manners swallowed. “Yes.”
“Wait here.” Powerhouse jogged over to Officer Lathrup. “I fixed all the damage. He’s a new superhero. Got a little carried away.”
Lathrup frowned. “I still say we ought to take him in.”
“Question him if you think my lecture wasn’t good enough, but I say we give the guy a break. If you made a mistake, wouldn’t you like someone to give you a break?”
The rookie sighed. “I may be making one now, but you’re all right, and you’re in good with the chief, so we can give him a second chance, but he won’t get a third.”
“With me, neither.” Powerhouse smiled. “Thanks.” He returned to Mister Manners. “I’ve cleared it with them. You can go, but no more trouble.”
“There’s already trouble! My dress shirt got stained.”
Yuck. Powerhouse frowned. This guy would need to toughen up fast. “Yeah, I know someone who could make you a good superhero outfit.”
“Those things are so undignified.”
“Better than ruining your nice clothes.”
“I guess. Give me the name of the tailor.”
Powerhouse did. “All right, now I have to go. No more trouble?”
“Sure.”
Powerhouse flew up into the sky and zoomed back towards Bryerton. Did he do the right thing? The guy didn’t even say, “Thank you.”
Hopefully, he’d learn.
The Pharaoh turned off the TV screen. “We can skip all the time trying to bleach out the stain action from our obsessive compulsive stooge.”
Varlock sat in another chair and smiled. “I was somewhat nervous there for a few minutes. If Powerhouse had beat him up tonight, he’d just be another locked up criminal and would not serve our plans.”
Yeah, lucky them. The Pharaoh glanced at Fournier. “You want a drink?”
“Sherry, please.”
Varlock frowned and stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Your planet’s liquor disgusts me. The only drink you have that is remotely palatable is Cactus Wine.”
“Sorry, I don’t have any of that.” Mitch strode to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of sherry and one of bourbon. “I knew Powerhouse wouldn’t put the bite on him unless Manners made him, and I knew Manners wouldn’t make him. Manners is a coward, and Powerhouse could’ve taken that shrimp and thrown him clear to China.”
Mitch brought the glass of sherry to Fournier and sat back at his desk with his bourbon. “Powerhouse is a nice guy, and we’ll use that to hang him.”
Varlock waggled his tongue to the right. “Where will you build the gallows?”
Pharaoh spat out the bourbon out and laughed. “Figure of speech. We’ll just hang him in the press, not literally.”
Varlock rubbed his hands together. “Manners will literally kill him.”
The Pharaoh laughed. “That pint-sized Emily Post? Not possible.”
“Not right now, but that solar battery will strengthen him. Tonight, Manners trembled when confronted by Powerhouse, but soon Powerhouse will be in terror.”
Chapter 18
The Return of the Boomerang Bloke
Powerhouse soared through downtown Seattle about eighty stories up. A female voice cried out. He glanced up. A window washer’s platform had snapped off its wires and she was falling to her death.
He had to catch her. Powerhouse zoomed up.
A small force like a missile slammed into him. Powerhouse veered off toward a brown building. Powerhouse stopped inches shy of ramming into a window. Several office workers stared out the window at him, eyes wide.
He turned and looked at what had pushed him off-track. It was the five-six frame of Mister Manners dressed in a latex, mesh, white jumpsuit emblazoned with, “Mister Manners: World’s Greatest Hero.” He was carrying the window washer in his arms.
Powerhouse followed him down to the ground.
Mister Manners put her on the ground.
The window washer wiped her brow. “Thanks for saving me. I don’t know what happened.”
Mister Manners folded his arms. “Next time be more careful.”
The window washer sneered. “I am careful, pal. I just had an accident.”
Mister Manners shook his head. “That is a euphemism for carelessness.”
“Why don’t you mind your own business in the future?” She whirled on her heels and stomped back to her building.
“Be that way, ungrateful wench!”
This jerk was more obnoxious than Green Arrow. Powerhouse glowered. “Way to build rapport with the public
.”
“I don’t yearn for their approval, only their submission to my wisdom.” Mister Manners snorted and waved.
Powerhouse landed. “Why did you shove me aside up there?”
“Why did you rudely get in my way? I saw her first.”
“I see.” What could he do to get this self-centered blowhard to see what was wrong with that? “I have an etiquette question.”
“Sure.”
“I know a guy who’s always shoving in front of others to get his way.”
“Such a rude person! I’d suggest you treat him as I treated you when you rudely shoved in front of me earlier. He’d fully deserve it, as you did.”
Was Manners delusional? Powerhouse cleared his throat. “Um, about that.”
“Apology accepted.” Mister Manners flashed him a fake smile. “Just watch where you’re going next time. She could’ve gotten killed for the sake of your glory.”
Yep, crazy. “This isn’t about my glory.”
“Correct, you should’ve been watching for me and making sure you weren’t stealing my glory. I’m glad you learned your lesson and will properly defer to me as your clear superior next time. I’d hate to have to put you in your place the hard way.” Mister Manners jumped in the air and flew away.
Wow. Such blind arrogance was seriously dangerous. Powerhouse glanced at his watch. No time to chase after him. He had another meeting about a new sci-fi comic about a team of astronauts trapped in a submarine on an alien planet.
Powerhouse bit his lip. How had that little guy shoved him aside so easily? What had changed in two weeks that the new kid had grown uppity enough to treat a veteran superhero like that? Hopefully, defeating him wouldn’t become a problem.
Manners was headed for supervillain territory if he didn’t watch himself.
Mitch Farrow sat in his office, smiling. He glanced at his latest anti-superhero editorial. Giving Mister Manners superpowers is the best idea we’ve ever had.
His secretary came in. “There’s a call from your ex-wife on line two.”
“I’ll take it.”
Once the secretary left, Mitch hit line two. “Hello, Rachel.”