by Adam Graham
“Oh, really?”
Polk nodded. “Officially, I have to advise you to be sure and defer to the Bureau in the future. We don’t usually let civilians take charge of this, but I made a discretionary decision that I believe was justified and for that I want to thank you, albeit unofficially.”
“That’s the only thanks I need. If you need some unofficial help, keep my card.”
Polk smiled. “I have it in the unofficial side of my wallet.”
Chapter 9: Random Acts of Powerhouse
Powerhouse flew up to the Heating Assistance Office. The parking lot was empty. He scanned the building. Empty.
Okay, no problem. He imagined the window opening and unlocking from the inside. He crept across to the desk of the director. On the desk was a list, “Families in need of weatherization assistance.” Those who they’d been able to help were marked in yellow. Powerhouse touched the list. His head tingled as it downloaded into his brain.
He climbed out the window, closed it, and flew across town to the first house on the list. A mother and two children gathered around the television in the living room.
He couldn’t do this one now without detection. Next candidate.
Powerhouse flew off toward a trailer court. A white, rusted trailer sat in space 4. Powerhouse x-rayed it. Yay, no one home. He imagined the trailer properly insulated and weather proofed. The insulation appeared.
They probably needed more than weather proofing. Powerhouse landed, went to the door, and imagined it open and walked in. The pet door drooped down on the left side. An old couch and recliner rested on brown carpeting covered with stains and dirt.
Powerhouse imagined the pet door fixed and new thick brown carpeting laid. He walked to the washing machine and it was disassembled. An older dryer sat by it.
Powerhouse imagined it replaced with a brand new washer and dryer. He walked into the kitchen and checked the cupboards. Empty except for only three soup cans. Powerhouse opened the fridge. Only mold and sticky dirt. The freezer contained only a thick layer of ice. Time to imagine some food here.
Powerhouse imagined half a dozen cheese pizzas in the freezer and dozens of bags of chips in the cupboards.
Naomi’s voice echoed in Powerhouse’s head. “Kids need a balanced diet.”
Dave sighed. He imagined cans of corned beef, green beans, and corn as well as cereal in the pantry, and lunch meat, tomatoes, and cucumbers in the fridge along with a gallon of milk. He imagined a note on the fridge:
From A Friend
God Bless
Powerhouse rubbed his stomach. All this super-imagining food into existence was making him hungry. He grabbed a can of corn beef, opened it, and walked to the kitchen. He scooped the canned meat out bite by bite with his gloved finger.
He finished the last bite as a car’s headlights shined from the parking space beside the trailer.
“Drat!” He’d fail in his mission if they found him here. How did he get out?
Powerhouse stared at the pet door. Of course. He could change his physical appearance into that of a cat.
He super-imagined himself as a little cat.
His body began to swirl, but the dizzying sensation stopped. He was still himself.
Outside, a car door opened.
Maybe a kitty cat was too small. Powerhouse super-imagined himself as a jaguar. His body transformed into a jaguar’s and he crept behind the chair.
A boy about James’ age entered carrying a hamper of laundry. “I hate the laundromat.”
A chubby, short-haired blonde entered. “Just because your DVD’s are here.”
“What’s for dinner, Mom?”
“Soup.” The mother sighed.
“Again?” The boy lugged the hamper over to the laundry area. “Mom, the washer!”
“What?” The mother raced to the washer. “How did that get here?”
“Duh. Somebody broke in and put it here.”
“A burglar that gives people things? Come on, let’s eat.”
Footsteps echoed and they left the carpet and stepped on to linoleum.
The mother read, “From a friend. God bless.”
The fridge door opened. “Oh my God, Tyler!” Her voice cracked. “Look at this.”
Now to make his escape. They’d be distracted in the kitchen for a while.
Powerhouse dashed through the pet door.
Now to get out of this form before someone called the police.
A window smashed.
What the devil? Powerhouse climbed up a tree and looked down. A teenage boy was climbing out the window of a well-painted white and red trailer across the court, carrying a jewelry box.
Powerhouse jumped from the tree onto the gravel.
The boy screamed.
Powerhouse snarled. “Unhand that jewelry box, miscreant!”
The young criminal screamed. “Awwww, a talking jaguar!”
Powerhouse roared and peered down at his Jaguar body. Oops. He’d forgotten to change back. “Down on the ground or I’ll devour you. There’s no escaping me. I’m the fastest cat on Earth.”
“B-b-but, I thought that was the cheetah.”
Powerhouse roared again.
The quivering criminal hit the ground.
Now he really had to finish this guy off and escape before someone called animal control. Powerhouse super-imagined the criminal tied up and dashed behind a bush. He transformed back into his normal human body and superhero costume, pulled out his pay-as-you-go cell and dialed police dispatch. “I’ve got a miscreant here for law enforcement to apprehend and bring before the great bar of justice.”
A female dispatcher’s voice came. “What?”
Police hacks had no sense of poetry. Powerhouse sighed. “I got a burglar at the Budget Trailer Park with the jewelry box he stole still on him. Do you want him?”
“Why didn’t you just say so? We have an officer a few minutes away from your location.”
“Thanks.”
A white 1990 Crown Victoria pulled into the trailer court. A white-haired woman wearing a peach-colored shirt and a pair of white capris got out. She looked at the boy lying on the ground. She put her hands on her hips. “Why is my grandson tied up?”
“He was breaking into this trailer.”
“This is my trailer. Why would he break into it?”
“To steal your jewelry box.”
“You’re lying. He’s a good boy.”
A police car pulled up. An officer got out and jogged over to Powerhouse. “What going on here?”
Powerhouse looked at the officer’s name on his badge. “Officer Willis, I caught this boy breaking into his grandmother’s trailer. He stole this jewel box.”
The grandmother ran over to Powerhouse and pounded on his armor. “Not true! Ow!” She rubbed her hand. “Arrest him! He tied up my grandson for no reason.”
Officer Willis sighed. “Powerhouse, there’s a coffee shop at the corner. Would you mind going down there and waiting for me?”
The grandmother waved her fist. “You’re letting him go? Powerhouse and the cops work together. All you guys ever do is hassle people.”
Officer Willis extended his hands. “I’ll talk to him once I talk to you.”
Powerhouse nodded. “Powerhouse-away!”
He zoomed three block down the street to the coffee shop, landed, and dashed inside. The barista was a young man in his early twenties with a diamond stud in his left ear. He smiled at Powerhouse. “Sir, welcome to Coffee King. May I say, that is the second best Powerhouse costume I’ve ever seen.”
Under his helmet, Powerhouse rolled his eyes. “Uh, thanks.”
“Can I take your order?”
“I’ll have a Large Chocolate Latte, decaf.”
“Sorry, we don’t have a large. We have dainty, average, and mondo.”
Man, he so hated ordering in coffee shops. “Which of those is the largest?”
“Mondo.”
“Then I’ll have the mondo size.”
> “Coming right up, sir.”
Powerhouse reached into his armor, pulled out Dave Johnson’s wallet, and dropped down a $5 bill. “Keep the change, citizen.”
“Wow, fifty-five cents, sweet.” The barista deposited the change in his apron.
Powerhouse walked over to a table, sat down, and imagined a hole in his helmet big enough to put a straw through. He sipped his latte.
A little girl said, “Daddy, it’s Powerhouse.”
Powerhouse looked up.
“It’s just someone in a costume, honey,” The girl’s father said.
How obsessed were his fans getting, for people to just think he was another guy in a Powerhouse costume? Powerhouse sipped from his latte.
The door opened. Officer Willis walked right past him to another table behind Powerhouse and said to someone sitting there, “Good news, Powerhouse.”
“It’s just a costume, officer.”
What? Powerhouse jerked his head around. A man was sitting in a Powerhouse suit, typing on a laptop. Clenching his fists, Powerhouse got up and marched over to the table. The imposter pointed both his index fingers and thumbs as him. “Hey, your costume’s pretty good. It’s a little dirty though. You should shine it.”
“A suit doesn’t stay shiny for long if you’re flying around in it, actually fighting crime and doing good deeds. The rocket pack creates heat and then there’s the air.”
“Flying around?” The little imposter jumped up and down three times. “You mean you’re really, really Powerhouse?”
Powerhouse raised his shoulders. “Yes, I’m really, really Powerhouse.”
The little imposter hugged Powerhouse. “You’re my hero! I’ve got all your comic books, action figures, and all three Powerhouse video games.” The little imposter squeezed even tighter. “I love this guy.”
The entire shop was staring at the two metal clad figures. Must be nice to fans, no matter how annoying they are. “I have some business to attend to.”
The fanboy let him go. “Can I have your autograph?”
“I don’t do autographs, citizen. However I’d be happy to make your suit look more authentic.”
“Please, please, please!”
Powerhouse imagined a less shiny suit. “Now, it looks just like mine.”
“Oh thank you! If you need any help, I’ll be at your every beck and call. The name is Melvin Stankewicz.”
Powerhouse gripped Melvin’s hand and shook it. “Thanks, citizen.”
“Do you need my card?”
Is he serious? “Don’t worry, citizen. I know how to find you. “
“Really?”
“You live at 324 Wordley Circle apartment three oh seven and your number is 835-3704.”
“The phone number is right, but they moved me to apartment two nine two.”
That must not have made it in the phone book he’d absorbed. “I’ll update my records, citizen. Now, I have to talk to the officer`.”
“It was awesome meeting you.”
“Officer Willis—” Powerhouse started, but two small hands pulled on his thigh. He glanced down. A little girl maybe three or four years old in a pink shirt and a pair of Osh Kosh Migosh overalls was squeezing his leg.
Powerhouse smiled. “Hello, honey.”
She held her arms up, making a lifting motion.
Powerhouse picked her up. This was one female who wouldn’t make Naomi jealous.
Her father pointed a cell phone camera at him. “Can I get a picture?’
“Sure.” Powerhouse nodded.
The father snapped three pictures.
Powerhouse put the girl down. “I have to go talk to the policeman.” Best to get out of here before Melvin decided that he wanted a picture, too. Powerhouse turned to Officer Willis. “Can we ride in your car a bit?”
“Sounds good.”
They walked to the cruiser and got in. Officer Willlis pulled out of the spot and on to the road. “It took a while, but the grandmother at last accepted what had happened. Her grandson burglarized her house to get money for drugs. Kid is hooked. He’s got it written all over him. She wouldn’t buy it until he told that story about being attacked by a talking jaguar. I’ve heard of some crazy hallucinations but that wins first prize.”
“Yeah.” Powerhouse gulped.
Officer Willis said, “Another unit took him to be booked. I wish I could get the guy who’s been selling drugs. Pete Gorman. Every time we get a warrant to search the place, it’s clean, and we can’t get probable cause to go in without a warrant.”
The car turned off on a side street and Officer Murphy pointed at a large well-kept two-story house standing in the middle of a block of run down homes. “That’s it.”
Outside it, a balding, middle-age man had patchy black hair salted liberally with gray and was wearing a red Hawaiian shirt and a pair of Khaki pants. Red Hawaiian Shirt ambled out to the police car. “Oh, Officer Willis, how to nice to see you.”
Officer Willis made an expression like he was drinking pickle juice. “This is Mr. Gorman, owner of the aforesaid house.”
Lets make it a menacing mutter like Batman to introduce myself to this scum. “I’m Powerhouse.”
“You’re what?”
Powerhouse raised his hoarse whisper a tiny bit and practically spit. “I’m Powerhouse.”
Officer Willis asked, “Did some coffee go down the wrong way?”
Powerhouse sighed. Apparently only Christopher Nolan could do that. He swallowed and took another sip of coffee. “I’m Powerhouse.”
Gorman smirked. “It’s a pleasure I’m sure.”
“I’m sure its not. Drug-dealing scum, Powerhouse will defeat you.”
Gorman laughed. “Sure, you’ll huff and you’ll puff and you’ll blow my house down.” Gorman did an exaggerated blowing motion like he was telling the story to a five-year-old. “But there’s nothing in my house. You do any damage to it and the cops will hunt you down. Ain’t that right, Officer?”
Willis nodded. “Of course.”
“I’m a law-abidin’ citizen. Cops have searched my place four times and found nothin’ and no tin-plated boy scout is going to get away with violatin’ my rights.”
Times like this, he so wished that he hadn’t killed off the Emerald Avenger. Lord, I’ve got to stop him. “Citizen, I won’t blow your house down, but I will stop this.”
“You have a really overactive imagination just like the cops. Good night, friends.” Gorman strolled down the walkway, chuckling and whistling to himself.
Officer Willis drove away. He glowered. “I feel like going into real estate.”
“But people need you.”
“They need someone who can get scum like Gorman off the streets. If only we could see what goes on in the house. We’d get that guy for sure.”
You can with my help. Powerhouse smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll catch him.”
###
Dave Johnson stood across the street from the drug dealer’s house in a pair of black coveralls, pulling weeds from an overgrown lawn.
Gorman walked over. “What are you doing here?”
“Cleaning up the neighborhood.”
“You a cop?”
“No, I’m a mild-mannered citizen with herbicides far beyond the power of mortal man, fighting a never ending battle against weeds, filth, and liter.”
“At eight o’clock at night? When the sun’s down?”
“Slime never sleeps.”
Gorman cracked up. “Okay, you’re too much. Continue your battle elsewhere.”
“Once I’ve banished the evil weeds from this place.”
He waved Dave off. “I said amscray.”
Dave raised an eyebrow. “You gonna make me? You could call the cops. Or, if you want to fight me to get out of here, I’ll call the cops.”
Gorman put up his right hand and smiled. “Hey, no need to make a federal case out of it, but get all your weeding done tonight. There are some people who might not like you coming here again.
”
Gorman crossed the street back to his house.
Dave knelt and began to pull the weeds one at a time. Hopefully a drug dealer shows up soon or I’ll have to come up with something else for tomorrow.
A Black Mercedes pulled up and a woman got out wearing a pair of jeans and carrying a duffel bag. Dave scanned the bag with his x-ray vision. It was stuffed full of $50 bills.
Dave dialed the number of the police business office.
“Seattle dispatch.”
“Tell Officer Willis to go to Gorman’s house, on its eastern side.”
Dave continued weeding until Willis arrived. Dave tuned to his super hearing to across the street.
“What the blazes?” Willis pulled out his walkie talkie. “I need a back up unit here. We’re going to have a big arrest.”
Yes, another bust by your amiable, neighborhood-weeding Powerhouse.
A few minutes later, the Mercedes woman left the house and Willis ran toward her. “Halt, police!”
The woman smacked her lips. “Leave me alone, cop.”
“You’re under arrest for possession of narcotics.” Willis read her rights to her and added, “Hands against the wall.” He frisked her and held up a pistol and a ziplock bag toward Dave. “Looks like enough heroin to supply an elementary school for a month. Lady, do you have a concealed carry permit?”
“I’m not saying anything until I talk to a lawyer.”
“Suits me.”
Another officer arrived to take her away. Willis knocked on Gorman’s door.
It opened a crack. Gorman said, “Yeah?”
“Mr. Gorman, you’re under arrest for trafficking narcotics.”
“I suppose you have proof.”
“We just arrested a woman right outside your house who bought from you.”
“I don’t know nothing about it. You can’t arrest me for someone in my house possessing drugs.”
“I saw you sell her the drugs.”
“Impossible.”
“Apparently, you’ve never seen the side of your house.”
“What are you talking about?”
Handcuffs clicked. “Let me show you.”
About time to leave, but there’s still a lot of work to do. Dave super-imagined all of the lots on the block cleaned of weeds and trash.
“What type of game is this?” Gorman demanded. “The entire side of the house is a two way mirror.”
“Not a smart move. People in glass houses shouldn't sell drugs.”
“You dirty rotten cops installed this!”
Willlis laughed. “Sure, we brought in a busload of workmen and replaced your wall with a two-way mirror without you noticing.”
