by Adam Graham
Powerhouse Flies Again
By
Adam and Andrea Graham
~~~
Copyright © 2012 Adam and Andrea Graham
Cover Design by Krystine Kercher
All Rights Reserved
Published by Laser and Sword
Table of Contents
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
A Special Preview
About the Authors
Chapter 1: The Dad Formerly Known As Powerhouse
Powerhouse flew 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 Stay-at-home-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 52 inch HD TV set in a walnut cabinet. The walls were painted Naomi’s favorite soft baby blue.
Dave wore a Captain America t-shirt and a pair of jeans. His black cropped hair came to the middle of his ear. Derrick wore a Seahawks T-shirt and his hair, black like his father's and was down to his neck in the back.
“Son, it’s okay.” Dave sighed. “I keep telling them I needed a real rocket pack on this doll, but they say it’d cost too much.”
Derrick’s eyes sparkled. “Dad, do you think you really could’ve beat Venom?”
“Son, Powerhouse could’ve beaten anyone.” Dave beamed, puffing his chest out. 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 and he had a rocket launcher.”
“He’d be a cool toy.”
Dave rolled his eyes. “The big baby’s lawyer threatened to sue us 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 his nose. “Dad! Diablo kidnapped James and me and held us upside down over a swimming pool full of boiling 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 stood wearing his green cape and black armor and a white apron. “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.”
“In addition, I’ve got two extra meals 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. “Does that mean you’re not going to finish telling James and I about the Kornoc War on Xylex Seven?”
Zolgron waved it away. “I’ll finish when I get back.” Zolgron 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 rocket pack.”
“No thanks.” I remember taking off with my rocket pack 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 a full 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 tonight?”
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 or something.”
“I’m sure 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. His Ebay auction filled the screen of his bulky, third-hand computer monitor. A fast food bag and an empty paper cola cup littered the buckled plywood desk that he also used as a kitchenette table. The green linoleum floor had missing patches. On his right the sink had four days worth of dishes piled in it and 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 on his screen. Thirty-five seconds 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 the monitor off, grabbed his newspaper off the kitchen counter, and strode to the eight foot square patch of carpet that passed for a living room. The taupe carpet was partially blackened from foot traffic and riddled with teeth marks from rats. 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 si
de, 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. “Hello, 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 and a stream of curse words left his mouth. He grabbed it. “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 and see 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, a man in his sixties, 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 sliver 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 a large poster of Powerhouse flying by the Space needle next to one of an 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. She was still mad about his alleged moodiness? “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 the money you’re earning is residual income. Maybe you need productive work.”
Dave glowered. “Excuse me. What do you call cleaning the toilets, mopping the floors, trimming the 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 stand by 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 inside 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, Naomi, 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 will 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 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 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 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. “Zolg
ron fell into the hands of a mindless, unimaginative terrorist determined to wipe Albuquerque off the Earth. The Feds killed the villain and found a 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 it as irrelevant to the case they were building. The Feds 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. I opened the crate, became Z’s next 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.
Naomi patted his back. “Zolgron enhanced Dave’s body. He dropped nearly a hundred pounds and put on serious muscle. Combined with his unexplained absences, I was sure there was another woman. My insecurities from my traumatic childhood and the influence of Leona Campbell led me to file for divorce.”
Dave set his bottled water in his lap. “I found out what a rat Leona was, sold my story, and got comic book royalties, so I could hire an even better lawyer.”
Dr. Rose jotted down a few notes. “The lawyer representing you in that legal malpractice suit against Leona CampBertrand? How’s that going?”
“We won!” Naomi beamed. “She had to pay big time and was disbarred.”
The big baby was such a sore loser. Dave laughed. “At the trial, she threatened to get revenge on us, our lawyer, and the judge. She was being led away to do jail time for contempt as her paralegal took a job with our lawyer. After that, she earned resisting arrest for screaming and clawing at the cops detaining her.”
Dr. Rose cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his chair. “Interesting. So why aren’t you Powerhouse anymore?”
Dave sipped his bottled water. “The night James was shot, Zolgron learned his lesson and was released from being a symbiote.”
“So he’s returned to his own planet?”
I wish. Dave bit his lip. Where had that come from? Zolgron's so helpful and loyal but yet... "Zolgron decided his own people would still be holding a grudge and thus has stayed on Earth. He helped with James’ rehab and has taken care of our food bills.”
