The Battle Begins, Part Four

Continued from Part Three

On the flight home, an artillery shell whirred upwards towards Powerhouse. He dodged it and landed onto a roof top a few blocks from where it was fired. He zoomed in on the artillery launcher.

A man with a nose ring stood beside it with a tall Asian man, gawking at the sky. “I think we got him.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“We got him. There ain’t no way he dodged that. We got 250 G’s coming.”

The two ran out of the alley with the artillery launcher.

Powerhouse swooped down, kicked the evildoers in the head, and tied them up. He grinned over them. “You know nothing of the might of Powerhouse!”

His ears perked. Fine dress shoes clicked against the pavement. He flew towards the sound. A man in an Italian three piece suit ran through the streets towards a midnight Mercedes.

Powerhouse landed in front of the Mercedes. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going home.”

“What were you doing back there?”

The suit sneered. “None of your business. You ain’t a cop.”

“I’ll make you talk.”

The suit pointed. “Hey, look, it’s the Penguin.”

Powerhouse turned, and the suit jump-kicked his exposed neck. Pain knocked him  to the ground. The suit sped away.

Powerhouse flew up, but couldn’t find the Mercedes again.


At two a.m., mild-mannered Janitor Dave Johnson yawned as he entered his home. It’d been a hard night’s crime fighting. In the living room, he found his wife waiting up.

Dave put down his lunch bucket on the inn table. “Evening, Naomi.”

She pulled out their bank statement. “Did you rent a car and eat in Seattle?”

“Huh?” Oh, the car thieves! “Oh that. Yeah, I was helping out a friend.”

“And what’s wrong with your car?”

“It wasn’t nice enough.”

“Whose fault is it that you’ve stayed in a dead-end job?”

“Naomi, I don’t feel like going through this tonight.”

“And who is this ‘friend’ of yours?”

“That cool new superhero. Powerhouse needed a decoy to catch some car thieves.”

“Why doesn’t Powerhouse have his own credit card?”

Because he didn’t want his wife asking about purchases. “They don’t give superheroes credit cards and he didn’t want it linked back to his true identity.”

“Why would he choose you?”

“I’m very prominent in the superhero support community. I’ve been following them for years.”

“So you’re a well-known sucker?”

That was it. “Good night. I’m going to bed.” He turned.

His wife jumped up and grabbed his arm. “Not so fast, mister. I’ve been trying to call you during my lunch break and you haven’t answered the phone.”

“I’ve been at the library.”

“Doing what?”


“Researching what?”


“Don’t you have enough stuff on the Internet? How many books does the library have on that, anyway?”

“Night, Naomi.”

Exaggerated wails followed him all the way upstairs to bed.

Continued next Tuesday

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