Continued from Part Two

Dave sat at his computer, skimming the Seattle Guardian online. Powerhouse had decided to take the rest of the day off after his run-in with police. He clicked on a story about the Seattle police chief issuing a statement against him. Dave read the caption of the picture. “‘The Chief and Captain Jake Welch.’ What’s his problem?”

On the next page, a Frank Leonard had written a scathing editorial against him.

Dave sighed and x-ed out of the page. “Who gave him a wedgie?”

His kids burst in through the kitchen door. James dropped his soccer cleats in the dining room and headed to their room. As usual, dear old dad was ignored. Derrick ran up to Dave, but stopped and pinched his nose. “Dad, you stink.”

Oops. “Guess I do. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

After hitting the shower, he played with Derrick until Naomi got home. On his way out to work, Naomi stopped him. “Dave, we have to talk.”

“Not tonight, honey. I really have to get going.”

“Dave, you need to-”

“Later.” He kissed her cheek and ran out the door.

In Seattle, Powerhouse flew to the Chief of Police’s house. The Chief answered the door. “What do you want?”

“To talk, mano a mano.”

“You want to talk hand to hand?”

“Sue me, I didn’t take Spanish. You don’t understand me. I’m not a bad guy.”

The chief grimaced. “You’re a vigilante. You take the law into your own hands. If you want to fight crime, get a badge.”

“It’s not like that at all. Let me explain myself. Let’s go bowling.”

“Bowling?”

“My late father taught me that bowling is the great meeting place of life. Anything great and important must be discussed over bowling. If they’d had bowling alleys when they wrote the Declaration of Independence, they’d have all gone bowling.”

“Do you really think I have time to go bowling with a vigilante?”

Powerhouse wouldn’t be denied so easy. “What else are you going to do?”

“Um . . . watch a rerun of Friends.”

“Uh huh. When’s the last time you’ve been bowling?”

“It’s been a while.”

“Then, come on, let’s go.”

After the eight frame of their second game, Powerhouse said, “See, I don’t take the law into my own hands. I leave the criminals for the police and prosecutors to handle. Forget vigilante, just think of me as the world’s most powerful neighborhood watch.”

The chief took his turn. “A neighborhood watch doesn’t confront the criminals.”

“You can’t always wait for the police.”

The chief’s bowling ball went into the gutter. “It’s our job. When you don’t even give us a chance, you’re insulting the men on our force.”

“Crime waits for no man.”

The chief rolled his eyes. “Cute.”

Powerhouse grabbed his bowling ball. “Trust me, I don’t want your men to get hurt. Plus, if I bring them out to fight a crime I could have taken care of, it’ll take them away from other crimes.”

“Maybe. In college, I read that 90% of crime isn’t even reported.”

“See! There’s more than enough crime for everyone.”

The chief sighed. “I suppose.”

Later, on their way out of the bowling alley, the chief said, “I think I understand you better now. I’ll talk to Welch. He said you were brutalizing suspects, and I’ll find out why. If everything is okay, and Welch was just mistaken, we’ll take the heat off.”

“Could I be a fully deputized agent of the law like Batman in the ’60s TV series?”

The chief laughed. “Sure, if you can get your own liability insurance. The city sure as heck can’t afford to insure you.”

Darn. “Oh. Thank you for the evening of bowling, anyway.” Powerhouse flew off. “Powerhouse away!”

Continued next Tuesday

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Continued from Powerhouse v. the Car Thieves

Frank Ross threw the newspaper down on the table before his three most powerful allies: Marcos, his lieutenant, Frank Leonard, editorialist for the Seattle Guardian, and Captain Jake Welch of the Seattle PD. Ross would end up in jail with this incompetence. “Explain yourself, Marcos.”

Marcos leaned back in his chair. “They were loosely affiliated. We let them use the garage and split the take. They don’t know you. They know me, but they’re not going to say anything about me.”

“You hope they won’t, anyway.”

“We got our Assistant DA on the case. He’ll get them in Minimum Security for 3-5. They won’t get a better deal. I don’t see where the problem is.”

It was sure getting hot in here. Ross removed his jacket. “This Powerhouse could be trouble.”

“How much trouble?” Captain Welch asked. “You’re not into the protection racket anymore and in most crime, you’re not the big player.”

“I got out of protection because insurance was more profitable, but most of the organized crime in this city can be traced back to me. If Powerhouse is flying around, stopping it, he could very well connect the dots.”

Welch waved. “No worry. From what I’ve gathered, he’s not exactly the brightest bulb around.”

“Oh, so that’s why he shut down the car theft ring?”

“He’d never tie it back to you.”

“I’m not willing to take that chance. Now, Welch, what can you do to stop him?”

“I can talk to the Chief and see if I can get him to issue a statement against Powerhouse and vigilante justice.”

Ross slapped his forehead. “Oh, a statement. That’s what I’m paying you ten grand a month for, to go out and get people to give statements.”

“I’ll have the copter stop him mid-flight and make him remove his helmet, so we can know who he really is.”

“That’s a start.  And you, Leonard?”

Leonard jotted in his yellow notepad. “Vigilantism. It’s a dirty word from the old west, a time when men took the law into their own hands. Today, this vile practice is revived by Powerhouse, that villainous cur who haunts our streets at night.”

Ross wiped his eyes. “Beautiful. Give your next editorial five more paragraphs like that and keep an eye on this Powerhouse story for new topics.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“What about you, Marcos?”

Marcos pulled out a revolver and twirled it on his thumb. “I’ll whack ’em.”

Once a hood, always a hood. “You’re always so artful, Marcos. Be creative.”

“I’ll hire someone else to whack ’em.”

“You do that. If he’s dead, he can’t hurt us. Put a contract out on Powerhouse for a quarter of a million.”

“Will do.”

“Now get back to business and make this Powerhouse problem go away.”

Continued here.

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Continued from Part Two

Powerhouse spent the next week following car thieves, but most were joy riders. He caught a break when he followed a car thief to an underground parking garage. The thief drove through the garage and towards a wall. The thief pulled out a remote. A secret passage opened. He drove through it.

Powerhouse stared. “How did thieves get a secret passage inside an Insurance Company parking garage?”

He shrugged it off, used his powers to open the door, and flew after the car thief.

At the end of the tunnel, about a dozen young men had assembled. They stared up at him. One asked, “What the heck is that?”

“I’m Powerhouse and I’m here to clean your carburetor.”

The thieves exchanged confused looks. Two pulled out guns. Powerhouse landed. They started firing. He ducked behind a barrel, created two smoke bombs, and threw them. The smoke blinded the thieves, but his helmet had heat-sensors.

He knocked out the two with guns, grabbed their weapons, and tied them up. He swatted off seven more men like flies.

An engine started. Powerhouse turned. An indigo Jaguar barreled towards him. He jumped out of the speeding Jaguar’s way.

The Jaguar raced towards the exit. He flew ahead and used his powers to close the exit. One of the thieves pushed a button on a remote to reopen it, but Powerhouse closed it before the car could go through. The Jaguar stopped a few feet from the exit and the driver reopened it. He closed it again.

After like five minutes of this, Powerhouse flew over to the car window, grabbed the remote, and tied up the three thieves.

“Powerhouse triumphs again!”

Continued here

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Continued from Part One

The next day, Powerhouse flew over a fancy French restaurant and spotted another car theft in progress. He scanned the silver convertible mustang’s glove box and found the name of the owner.

He ran into the restaurant and located him. “Excuse me, sir.”

The man looked up at him. “Yes.”

“Someone’s stealing your car.”

Powerhouse followed the owner’s bee line for the door. His car squealed out of the parking lot. The owner screamed. “Oh my God! Can you catch them?”

“That depends. Do you have comprehensive insurance?”

“Please just catch him.”

“Okay, but don’t get mad at me later. Powerhouse away!”

Powerhouse caught up to the car at a stop light and disengaged the ignition. He then grabbed the car and flew it back. The thief screamed. “Don’t drop me!”

“Relax, I wouldn’t do that-to the car.” He put the car down in the parking lot and tied up the thief. The owner stood nearby, cell phone in hand.

“Okay, I got your car back. Do you have the number for the police?”

The owner stared at him. “9-1-1.”

“A well-educated citizen, I see. Good, call the police, and they’ll take this refuse off the street. Powerhouse away!”

Dave sat in his easy chair, reading the Seattle newspaper. The police thought the car thieves were connected to one source. He needed to find their headquarters.

He put a hand to his chin. “Hmm. This looks like a job for Dave Johnson.”

Upon arriving in Seattle, Dave rented a black BMW and drove to a fancy restaurant. He went in and ordered a cup of coffee while he waited for someone to steal the car.

After half an hour, he went outside and unlocked the car’s door before going back inside.

Half an hour and another coffee later, he went back out and rolled down the window. Again, no theft occurred, so he went back, opened the door, and put the keys in the ignition. A few minutes later, someone approached the BMW and shut the door.

Dave ran out. “Hey, don’t do that! Are you trying to protect this car or something?”

The stranger stared at him.

He needed an excuse and quick. “I have comprehensive insurance.” Okay, so that wasn’t a good excuse, but still.

The stranger shrugged and walked away. Dave re-opened the car door. Fifteen minutes later, a teenager jumped in the BMW and drove off.

“Ah, they took the bait! Now, this is a job for Powerhouse!”

Powerhouse followed the teenage car thief to a video arcade. His gang came outside and scoped out the BMW. Powerhouse swooped down and tied the teens up. “Ah, ha. Crime does not pay when Powerhouse rules the day.”

One of the thieves said, “What crime? I was just getting a soda.”

“A likely story!”

A girl said, “Is shoplifting that big a deal? I only do it from the clearance aisle.”

Powerhouse laughed. “Shoplifting? No, you gang of vicious car thieves! Shoplifting should be the least of your concerns!”

“Car thieves?” The kids glared at the confederate who started this.

The thief laughed. “They’re not car thieves. I took it for a joy ride. The idiot left the door open with the keys in the ignition.”

“Don’t insult Dave Johnson! That fine generous soul was just doing me a favor.”

“Oh, so you’re the dork who thought of this?”

Hey! “I’m not a dork, car thief!”

A portly guy spoke up. “If we were a gang of car thieves, would we be at an arcade and wearing thrift store clothes?”

“You’re supporting your drug habit.”

“Or maybe you’re a total moron, Metal Dweeb.”

“Oh yeah, if I’m a metal dweeb, you’re a fatty-fatty, two-by-four, can’t fit through the bedroom door.”

“Whatever, but we’re not car thieves, except him.” The fat kid nodded at the thief.

“Fine, I’ll let you go this time, but don’t let me catch you doing this again.”

He dematerialized the ropes. Powerhouse turned to the thief. “As for you, young man, I’ll let you go with a stern warning. Don’t take what doesn’t belong to you.”

The thief shrugged. “Why not?”

“Because it’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t belong to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you didn’t work for it.”

“Why should I have to work for it?”

Powerhouse grabbed the boy, turned him upside down, and swooped sixty feet up in the air with the screaming boy. “Because, I said so!”

He put down the boy with urine-stained pants then flew the BMW back to the restaurant.

A few minutes later, mild-mannered janitor Dave Johnson re-emerged to drive back to the rental car place.

Continued next Tuesday

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Powerhouse flew over the Seattle City Limits sign on the highway below. In the parking lot of a five-star restaurant half a mile down the road, a teenage boy hot-wired a luxury car and jumped in the seat. Powerhouse swooped down and suspended the car in the air. Focusing, he visualized turning the ignition off. The engine died. Powerhouse put down the car walked to the window. “You’re busted!”

“But, this is my car!”

“Then why are you hot-wiring it?”

“I forgot my keys.”

“Do I look stupid?”

The young man smirked and then stared at Powerhouse’s bulging muscles. “I think I’ll exercise my right to remain silent.”

Powerhouse glared and materialized ropes around the punk.

A man carrying car keys ran out to the car. “What’s going on here?”

“I caught this young man trying to steal your car and stopped him.”

The car owner scowled. “Who asked you to?”

“Huh?”

“I have comprehensive insurance. If he’d stolen the car, I’d have gotten enough money for a big down payment on a new car. I don’t like this car anymore. Sure, it made me look great when I got it, but now it’s no longer the nicest car at work and I’m upside down on the payments. You ruined my good luck.”

What could he say? “I’m sorry.”

“You should be! I’ll call the police and have this guy arrested.”

“Good enough, citizen. Powerhouse away!”

Powerhouse arrived at the scene of a mugging a few minutes later. He tied up the assailants. The victim said, “Thank you, very much, sir.”

“May I have your name?”

The victim extended his hand. “Steven Pochecko.”

Powerhouse pulled out a notepad from his utility belt. “And your phone number.”

Pochecko drew back, wariness in his eyes. “Why do you want that?”

“So the police can prosecute them.”

Pochecko put out a hand. “I got my money back; there’s no need to prosecute.”

“If you don’t testify, these miscreants will do this again.”

“Not to me. I’m not gonna risk getting hurt by their friends.”

Powerhouse sighed. “Very well, citizen, I’ll have them untied in ten minutes. Then they can harm other people since you won’t do the right thing.”

“Fine with me.” Pochecko fled from the alley like a scared rabbit.

Ten minutes later, Powerhouse released the two muggers. “I’ll be watching you.”

Continued next Tuesday

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Continued from Part One

Chief of Police Howard Jenkins stood on the roof of police headquarters next to a borrowed a spotlight with the outline of a thunderbolt.

Captain Tina Phillips shook her head. “This won’t work. I think we should put a warrant out for his arrest like the mayor wanted. He’s a menace to society.”

“The menace is the people who wrote these dumb laws. Regardless, he means well. We just need to redirect his energy.”

Powerhouse landed beside them. “You called, Chief?”

Jenkins sent Captain Phillips a smug look. Could he profile them or what?

He turned to Powerhouse. “I’d like to talk to you.”

Jenkins placed his arm around Powerhouse and walked across the roof. “I really appreciate what you’ve done in catching those drug dealers, burglars, and robbers.”

Powerhouse beamed. “All in a day’s work.”

“But about you enforcing misdemeanor statutes on the populace. I think I understand what you’re trying to do.”

Powerhouse scratched the top of his helmet. “You do?”

“You’re protesting the complex and stupid regulations on the books. You’re letting us know we need to reform our laws. The mayor, the city attorney, and I will head up a commission to reform our city code.”

“That’s excellent, but in addition to that great reason, I also admit it was because it’s kind of boring during the day.”

Terrific, a bored nut job who thought he was Bruce Wayne. Just what Bremerton needed. “Powerhouse, let me be honest. We can’t support a full-time superhero. There are only so many crimes. Why not go to Seattle? You’ll have more active days.” And be another jurisdiction’s problem.

Powerhouse perked up. “Excellent idea, Chief. I’ll do that.”

Jenkins sighed in relief. “Glad to help.”

“I’m off to save the City. Powerhouse away!” Powerhouse zoomed up into the sky.

Captain Phillips walked over. “Well, I have to admit, you were real smooth with that guy.”

Jenkins sent her a grin. “That’s why I’m the chief.”

On Dave’s drive home from work, blue lights began flashing in his rear view mirror. Just his luck! He pulled over to the side of the road. A police car pulled in behind him.

The officer walked to Dave’s window.

Dave sent the officer the smile that won him Mary Jane’s-er Naomi’s-heart. “What seems to be the problem, officer?”

“Going a little fast there, aren’t you?”

That wiped the smile off. “Um, no.”

“Um, yes. By my radar gun, you were going 37 miles an hour in a 35 mile per hour zone. Around here, we call that speeding.”

What was with this guy? “Oh come on, that’s just two miles. You’re not supposed to issue a ticket unless it’s five miles over. ”

“The law’s the law. I need your license, registration, and proof of insurance.”

Dave handed over the documents. Did this joker have a quota to meet or what?

The officer went back to his car and had  time enough for lunch before he sauntered back. He gave Dave his documents, along with a speeding ticket. “Now, think about how long you were stopped here? Obeying the law always saves you time. Have a good evening, Mr. Johnson.”

Once the officer was out of earshot, Dave growled. “What a jerk!”

Continued next Tuesday

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Powerhouse walked into a Mailboxes and Stuff. He sighed. The best thing he could do before the kids got home from school was his superhero duties. Yet, in two weeks’ time, in the light of day, Powerhouse had caught a shoplifter, flown an expectant mother through traffic to the hospital, gotten a cat out of a tree, and directed traffic for two minutes after a signal went out on third and eighth.

He reached the mail box he’d purchased, along with business cards, so people could send him mail. He opened the box. Yes! A letter! He pulled it out. “I’ll solve your problem, citizen.”

Powerhouse skimmed the flier. What? “I don’t care about a sale on Chicken breast. I’m here to fight evil!”

He crumpled the flier up, tossed it aside. Time to consult Zolgron. He closed his eyes and pictured the waterfall and the orange tree. He opened his eyes and smiled. Sunlight caught on the mist off the waterfall, casting rainbows like a prism.

A voice said behind him, “So, there are no major crimes in your town?”

Powerhouse whirled to face Zolgron. “How did you know?”

“We’re symbiotic, remember? I can read your thoughts.”

“Oh,” said Dave sheepishly.

“Have you thought about enforcing laws against minor crimes?”

Dave scratched his head. “Hmm, that’s a thought, but how would I learn them all?”

“Easy. With my powers, you can memorize any book just by touching it.”

Just how many powers had this guy not disclosed to him? “Wow.”

Dave obtained a copy of the City’s ordinances, memorized them, and set out to enforce minor and obscure regulations on the populace.

Downtown, a man that reeked of garlic  bought a movie ticket. After Garlic Breath opened the door to the theater, Powerhouse swooped down and grabbed him.

Garlic Breath glared. “What is this?”

“You went to a movie less than three hours after eating at an Italian restaurant. I can still smell garlic on your breath! That’s a violation of City Ordinance 85, punishable by a $50 fine or 50 days in jail.”

Powerhouse flew the miscreant down to the police station.

Once Powerhouse explained what the petty criminal had done, the desk sergeant snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’ve never heard something so absurd.”

Powerhouse pulled a copy of the city code from a pouch on his belt. “Its right here in black and white.”

“Sergeant,” the Italian-eating moviegoer pleaded, “I just wanted to go to Mama Leone’s and catch the matinée.”

Powerhouse folded his arms and shook his head. “You broke the law.”

“Are you really going to make me write him up? It’s a dumb law.”

“It’s still the law.”

The Sergeant sighed and wrote out a ticket. “Here you go, Mr. Molson. Now go down to the City Attorney’s office and see if he’ll drop the case.”

Molson stormed off.

The Sergeant said, “What an idiot.”

Powerhouse dusted off his clean costume. “My work here is done.”

He took the elevator up to the roof. On the edge, he raised his hands to fly away. Across the street, under a canopy outside city hall’s main entrance, two suits puffed away on cigarettes.

Powerhouse flew down. “You’re in violation of City Ordinance 312, which states no smoking is allowed around city buildings, except in designated areas.”

“It’s raining,” said one suit. “I’m a City Councilman. I wrote the law, but this is a canopy area, the designated area isn’t.”

“You’re sworn to uphold the law. So move.”

“No.”

Powerhouse grabbed the councilman and his friend and dropped them down in the designated smoking area.

He waved his finger at the rain-drenched men. “That’ll teach you to break the law.”

He flew off to do more acts of justice.

A man crossed the street in the middle of a long stretch of sidewalk. Powerhouse swooped down and grabbed him.

The jaywalker glared. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“Teaching you a lesson in the law. Jay-walking is a violation of Ordinance fifteen.”

“But it’s a quiet neighborhood. There wasn’t a car around for miles.”

“Wrong! A car was three quarters of a mile away.” Powerhouse dropped the jaywalker off at a street corner. “You now have to walk half a mile to get back to where you were. Remember, keeping the law always saves time.”

Continued here.

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Continued from Part One

After his secret identity, mild mannered janitor Dave Johnson, had spent three days searching the Internet to find a cool name not already taken, Amazing Man tied up a burglar in the living room of a townhouse he’d caught him breaking into.

A young, auburn-haired woman in a purple night gown came down the stairs with a weirdo in a green and navy kilt. The kilt guy said, “Wow, that’s amazing!”

Dave puffed out his chest. “All in a day’s work for Amazing Man.”

The kilt guy’s wife rolled her eyes. “More like Conceited Man, but thanks.”

Okay, ixnay Amazingay Anmay

At home the next night, Dave slammed his fist on the keyboard. No! Justice Man was taken, just as Power Man had been. An Avenger would be cool, perhaps, the Yellow and Green Avenger. No, too unoriginal. Err!

He got up and paced into the kitchen. Why were all the cool names taken?

His eleven-year-old entered, slinging soccer cleats by their tied-together shoe laces.

Dave slapped an arm around James’s shoulders. “Hey, son. If I were a superhero, what would be a good name for me?”

James snorted and shrugged Dave’s arm off. “Try Loser Man.” James walked off.

Dave shouted after his son, “How’s that going to strike fear in the hearts of criminals?” He shook his head and paced back into the living room. Kids.

Derrick entered from the kids’ room. “Okay, Dad, I’m ready to find out what happened with Aquaman and Lex Luthor.”

“Just a second, son,” said Dave. “I’m trying to think up a name for a super hero.”

“What are his powers?”

Dave quickly rattled off his powers.

A thoughtful frown wrinkled Derrick’s forehead. “That sounds like Superman, but with no kryptonite.”

“He’s also not invulnerable.”

“He’s got a lot of powers, what about Powerhouse?”

Dave grabbed his son and hugged him tight. “It’s brilliant!”

Derrick gasped for breath. “Dad, what about Lex Luthor?”

“Oh right.” Dave put his son down.

That night, Dave flew over a city park in a metallic costume with a sterling silver helmet and a jet pack on his back, sort of a cross between the white power ranger and Buzz Lightyear, only he kept his thunderbolt crest and made sure not to copy anything that could get him sued.

Below him, a red Ferrari stopped and teenager carrying a briefcase exited. A limousine entered from the other direction and parked. A man in a navy suit got out. He approached the teen, carrying a second briefcase. “Eddie, do you have the money?”

The teen handed the briefcase over. “Right here, Mr. D.”

Mr. D counted the money in Eddie’s briefcase. He handed over his briefcase. Eddie pulled a bag of marijuana out and sniffed it. “Excellent quality, as always.”

Dave swooped down. “Hold it right there!” In a lightning fast blitz, he knocked Mr. D to the ground and materialized ropes around him. Eddie ran away. Dave flew ahead, grabbed him, and punched him. “This is for dealing kids dope.” He punched Eddie again. “This is for supplying money to drug cartels.” He punched him once more. “And that’s for having a nicer car than me!”

He flew the dealer back to Mr. D. Eddie stared up at Dave. “Who are you?”

Dave placed his hands on his hips and stared heroically into the sky. “They call me Powerhouse. Spread the word.”

Powerhouse raised his arms, visualized pressing the levers on his jet pack, and flew away. “That was so cool!”

New story begins Next Tuesday

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Continued from the Origin of the Dim Knight

“What is it with this town?” Dave asked his bungalow as he flew over it, wearing a golden mask that matched the thunderbolt crest on his chafing green costume. Now that mild-mannered janitor Dave Johnson was a superhero, he finished his work duties at eight instead of midnight and spent the rest of his shift flying two-hour patrols around Bremerton. He’d been out here a week and hadn’t found a single crime to fight.

A woman’s cry for help pricked his ear.

Just like Superman. Sweet!

He found her in a blind alley, held at knife point. The thief grabbed her wallet and backed away, snarling to a companion in a red bandana, “Let’s go.”

Dave landed behind him. “Not so fast!”

The woman stared, struck speechless by the sight of a Real Life Superhero in such a cool and well designed costume that he spent hours sketching on the computer before using focused visualization to make it materialize.

The muggers spun around. “Who are you, man?” asked the punk in the bandana. “And where did you get that gay costume?”

Hey! I worked hard on this costume! “I’m-um-um.” So hard I forgot the most important thing: a name. No matter, I can save this. “Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? You want to know who I am? Your worst nightmare!”

Dave grabbed the muggers and held them together. Focusing, he pictured them tied up. Ropes appeared around them.

He grabbed the woman’s wallet and took it back to her. “Here, you go, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” She ran off.

“You’re welcome.” Dave held his head high as he marched to a telephone. He picked up the receiver and dialed 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“This is um ….” Why should he have to think of a name? Superman didn’t name himself. The Daily Planet did. “A couple miscreants robbed a lady. I stopped them and tied them up, so you can pick them up.”

“Who was the victim?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“What’s your name?”

“A friend.”

“Okay, friend, let me get this straight. You have a couple of guys tied up and you expect the police to arrest them on just your word that they were robbing someone?”

“Yes.”

“No. Now do you want me to waste valuable resources on sending someone to untie them or can you handle that?”

Dave blushed. “I’ll take care of it.”

He went back to the alley and untied the two muggers. “You’re going free on a technicality. But you may not be so lucky, next time.”

The muggers ran off, giving him obscene gestures.

Continued here.

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Continued from Part Five

Coach grunted. “We’re only down 7-5. Try not to mess it up, Johnson.”

Dave didn’t bat in the bottom of the sixth. In this league, they only played seven innings; the next inning would be their last chance in the loser-out tournament.

In the seventh, the first hitter hit a pop fly into shallow right field. Dave ran to make a diving catch. Naomi and the rest of the crowd jumped to their feet to cheer.

At last! She’s applauded me! Dave threw the ball to the pitcher, bowed, and tipped his cap to the crowd.

Coach screamed, “Johnson, who do you think you are? Don Mattingly? Get back into position.”

The next batter hit a ground ball that the shortstop scooped up and threw to Dave. The ball came six feet wide of first base, but Dave stretched far enough to catch the ball and get to the base in time to record the second out. A strikeout later, and the inning was over.

In the bottom of the seventh, the first hitter grounded out, the second struck out. The third surprised everyone and bunted for a base hit. Coach shouted from the dugout, “You mind not risking the season?”

The next batter hit a ground ball to short that should have ended the game, but the shortstop’s throw landed in right field. The runners advanced to second and third.

Dave gulped; it was his turn to bat. On Dave’s way to the plate, Coach said, “Try not to make a fool of yourself.”

Coach gave such encouraging advice.

The first pitch came high and tight-ball one. The pitcher lobbed the second pitch over. Dave swung and connected with the ball. The ball zoomed over the bleachers and across the street before vanishing from sight.

Dave grinned. Wow! I haven’t hit a home run in two years!

The crowd roared as he rounded the bases. At home plate, Coach gave him a slap on the back and his teammates heaved him up on their shoulders, nearly dropping him once in the process.

In the semi-finals, played an hour after the first game ended, Dave smashed another three homers as his team won 6-3.

In the finals, played after a pizza break, Dave hit three homers. His team was up 14-2 as he came to bat in the bottom of the sixth.

After three balls out of the strike zone, Dave swung-Ping! The ball not only flew out of the park, but the aluminum bat shattered, the barrel flying out into left field.

Dave circled the bases. Zolgron’s words echoed in his ears. “You can run faster than one of your sports cars, have the strength of a hundred ordinary humans, can change shapes, and can materialize objects at will.”

Dave grinned wider. It wasn’t just a dream brought on by Hawaiian pizza and an overactive imagination!

The cylinder had become part of him; he must have sub-consciously created another to replace it in the crate. Tonight, he had something far more important to celebrate than a championship.

A legend had been born.

Continued here.

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