#menace3

Nate’s neck was sore. He moved his finger around the two tiny incisions made in his neck by the Count’s fangs, wincing each time he did. He was still reeling from the effects of the blood-loss; he felt weak. Officially, Menace was on bed-rest for the week, having been injured severely in a fight with a super-villain, who escaped the scene shortly thereafter, before reinforcements could arrive. Unofficially, Nate was in the middle of the Wharton State forest, planting a garden with the White Witch, while the Mutation kept a close watch on the mannerisms of Count Drake. Said Count woke up in the daytime with a severely broken jaw and no memory of the night. The moonlit persona of the Count seemed to be out of commission, at least for the time being.

“I don’t understand why I have to help.” Courtney puffed as she forced a wooden plank into the ground, establishing the makings of a fence for the garden. She was wearing her trademark white sweater, which dropped past her knees, and white ballet shoes. Dirt marked her clothes, something she was less than thrilled about, and the notion of physical labor seemed to be foreign to her. She didn’t understand why Nate wouldn’t simply let her use her magic to establish  a boundary line, or let her use her magic to do any of the other labor.

“You’ve basically been living here the past couple weeks,” Nate told her, “you’ve gotta earn your keep somehow.” Nate didn’t really care that the kid had been living in the cube for the past couple weeks, nor did he really need her help in planting the garden. In the time it had taken her to plant one picket, he had dug up the grass inside a six by six square for the garden; she wasn’t so much helping as she was constantly complaining. He had asked her to help to make sure she was okay: she had been sleeping at the cube for almost three weeks now, without having gone home in the daytime. Nate was waiting to see a missing person report in the paper, but none had come. He was worried about her, and he wondered if he was the first person to ever feel that way. “Besides, when you’re a hero, you’re gonna need to do much harder work than this. Maybe you should consider this training of sorts.”

“Cool your jets there, Mr. Miyagi.” Courtney said, deciding, finally, to expend the effort to put another stick another wooden plank in the ground. “I don’t need your help.” Nate stood across from her, slightly befuddled, waiting for an explanation. “I practice my magic for six hours,” she took a small breath then repeated with emphasis, “six hours a day, Nate. You know what you do with your time? You go on dates. You hang out with friends. You plant gardens. Why don’t you train sometime?” She went to pick up another stick, and shoved it down into the third corner of the garden.

“You gotta take time to be a person, Court.” Nate responded, smiling just a little. “Otherwise what’s the point?” He grabbed the fourth plank of wood and forced it into the ground around the perfect square of prepared land. He pulled from his pocket a bag of garlic bulbs, and began to plant them in the ground; he hoped Bram Stoker wasn’t full of shit.

The Mutation was a hero worth the title. He, much like the white witch, spent much of his time training, working, thinking. He attempted to always be prepared, to always be ready. There was a special function of those who signed on to be heroes, and this function scared the living daylights out of most heroes. It was called the “catastrophic event function,” and its protocol was to call every hero in the state together to halt the end of the world. During the last CEF, Mutation remembered, Ultraman took charge. He assigned everyone tasks, and everyone obeyed him without question. The Mutation sighed and pulled off his jacket, a brown aviator jacket with the sleeves cut to the elbow, and a hooded man insignia on its shoulder. He was wearing, now, a hooded gray shirt with the sleeves similarly cut, but the insignia on his chest was that of a broken strand of DNA.

His name was Anthony Carlucci, and he had only joined the hero business six months before Ultraman died. He hadn’t been a hero long enough to be relaxed in his duties, and he was afraid of those who had. He kept training because, when the next catastrophic event occurred, he knew that someone had to be ready. He fingered the metal ring that shone over his right index finger, and then squeezed it into his palm. The palm of his hand began to take on a metal hue, the silver-gray tang of the metal climbing around his hand and then up his arm to the elbow. His shift had just begun.

He sat atop the roof of his house, a small town-house near the center of the city, and looked out over the town. If he looked North he could see the town-square, a small brick square surrounded by grass, with small benches on either side. The sun was just setting, and the air was cool against his skin. If he looked to the South, he could make out the tree tops of the Wharton State Forest, where he knew the Menace was attempting to grow garlic to hang around the Count’s Burlesque House. He sighed, wishing he had made it in time to apprehend the Count after taking Nate to the hospital, but the Count was gone when he had returned, and Count Drake seemed to have no recollection of the night when he had gone to speak with him. He then looked East to the location of the Count’s mansion, which he could not make out because it was shrouded in trees. To the West was the shopping district, and the main center of crime in the city. Anthony could not remember the last time a night had passed without some crime occurring in the shopping district. He sighed as he stood and climbed to the ground.

“Nate, I need you.” He spoke quietly into the phone as he hid inside the Ye Olde Music Shop, closing the blinds so that no one outside the shop could see in.

“What’s up, Mutt?” Nate responded.

“There’s a bank robbery about to happen, a truck has been parked outside the Capital One for about an hour now, no markings, no nothing. It looks like they’re waiting for the guards to switch shifts.”

“Why do you need my help?” Nate asked, yawning a little to show mild disinterest.

“I think it’s Magnet Man; the metal on my arm is acting weird, like it’s giving me resistance when I move it in certain directions. You’re better for fighting him than I am.”

“Fine, give me twenty minutes and I’ll be right there.”

“I need you to do it in ten.”

“No promises.” Nate hung up the phone.

The Mutation swayed his arm back and forth, feeling the odd tingling that came whenever his metal came near Magnet Man. He thought about the last time they had come into contact, and how thoroughly the man had trounced him. That was nearly four months ago, he reminded himself, I’m different now. He had no more time than that, however, as the bank alarm exploded into existence. God damn it, Menace, he thought, cursing the fact that Nate hadn’t arrived yet. He burst out of the music store, running across the street, through the bullet-proof glass door into the bank. He looked around, seeing a man and woman cowering, stuck together in the corner of the bank. The bank attendants all seemed pinned to the front desk by some invisible force. The black plastic rope that was used to keep  a line in order had been pushed to the ground.

In the back of the room, a man stood collecting money from the safe; Anthony wondered why, in a day of technological advancement such as this, bank still held safes. He was dressed very oddly, with his hair spiked up to a few inches above his head. He wore a bright purple mask to cover his eyes and another for his mouth, the suit he wore was a skin-tight, leather-looking suit that was entirely black save for four large purple half-moons, two on either side. Around his waist he wore thin needles that dangled loosely against the suit. “Freeze!” The Mutation yelled, and the man turned to look at him.

“Oh, hello there, Mutation, is it?” Magnet Man laughed. “Listen, kid, turn around and walk out now and I won’t hurt you.” Anthony didn’t move. The man stepped forward. “You do remember what happened last time, right?” Still, the Mutation remained standing to block the exit. “Alright, I suppose we have to do this the hard way.” The man dropped the cliched sack he’d brought to loot money, and stepped forward to stand straight across from the Mutation.

He unlatched a needle from his waistband and hurled it at the Mutation, who quickly moved his metal arm to deflect it. Magnet Man, taking advantage of the Mutation blocking his own line of vision to block his needle, ran forward while throwing another needle at his leg. Anthony dropped his arm to see the Magnet Man running towards him, and decided to square himself into a fighting position, just as the needle ran through his leg. He grunted in pain, and glanced down to see what had done the damage, as the villain grabbed his wrists, one in either hand.

Suddenly his wrists began pulling towards each other ferociously, held back only by Magnet Man’s hands. The Mutation pulled his good leg forward and kicked the villain in the center of his chest, forcing him to let go of his arms, and fall back, but not before he made a desperate grasp for the leg that kicked him, and brushed his foot with his  left hand as he fell. The Mutation knew what came now, he remembered it so well from last time. His two wrists flew towards each other, his metal one slamming into the one of his skin, and he could feel his wrist bone shatter. He yelped in pain as the polarity of his arms returned to normal, allowing him to separate his arms.

Magnet Man gasped for air as the kick had done a number on him. He, still gasping, put on a small smile as he moved his right hand around four needles that were still around his waist. Suddenly, all stood at attention, pointing themselves vehemently at the Mutation’s foot. He started unlatching them, one by one, and they flew towards his foot, dragged by the invisible, magnetic force. Anthony, letting his gut reaction dictate his movements, immediately pulled his foot upwards and backwards to avoid the needles, realizing as he did it how stupid of a move it was. The needles followed his foot, but at the new angle they had to travel, they slashed through his ankle. Anthony shouted some profanity then fell to his knees.

“Still want to fight, good man?” Magnet Man said, having recovered from the wind being knocked out of him. The villain laughed in triumph as he moved to get his moneybag from the back of the bank. The Mutation’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. It was a message from Menace: Kiss the ground. Anthony fell down onto his stomach, and let his arms fall to his side with him. “I see you’ve finally given up.” Magnet Man said with glee, as Anthony felt a cool breeze wash directly over him. He noticed that the wind didn’t recede and resurge as wind normally does, but it kept coming, slowly at first, but then continued to build rapidly until the clothes began to pull up on his back. Magnet Man approached him, obviously unfettered by the wind, and looked down on him in condescension. “Looks like you aren’t quite ready to be a hero.” The man said, as the wind buildup reached his peak and Menace was launched through the door, flying on the gust of wind straight into the villain.

He hoisted the villain into the wind stream and flew with him until Magnet Man was slammed into the back wall of the bank. He screamed in pain as he and Nate slowly fell to the ground, Nate landing perfectly upright and dropping the human magnet to the ground. Nate turned and ran towards the Mutation, bending down to hoist him up.

“You alright?” He asked, looking down at the Mutation’s lacerated ankle, knee, and shattered wrist.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, just some bedrest.” He laughed. “Take me to the hospital.” Magnet Man was still howling in the background. “How did you do the wind thing?” Anthony asked, as they walked out the door, and he saw a young girl, dressed all in white, with dark hair flowing out from under the hood of a sweatshirt.

“This is the White Witch.” Menace introduced. “A friend of mine.”

“Nice to meetcha,” the young girl said, obviously thrilled to have been allowed to come along. Anthony noticed the cops streaming in to the bank to capture Magnet Man, and let out a sigh of relief, knowing that he could not escape.

“You know,” the Mutation began, “flying in there like that, you kind of looked like Ultraman.” Having said this, the Mutation relaxed his muscles, let the metal recede from his hand, and, as soon as Nate put him in the back of a cop car, fell asleep.

“That was really cool!” Courtney practically shouted as she and Nate walked from the crime scene. Nate had never allowed her to come along before, as, technically, it wasn’t legal without a permit. She would always hear his stories about grueling battles, high speed chases, or just working alongside Ultraman, and she wanted nothing more than to come along. “What’s next? Are we going to go stop another robbery? Fight the Gentleman? Battle some henchmen?” She might not have realized that, with each suggestion, she was tugging harder on Nate’s arm, but he just smiled.

“Well, I’m not on duty, so no, I’ve got nothing.” Nate admitted, and the girl’s smile faded abruptly. “Tomorrow, we can pick up a side-kick permit for you, if you like.” He said, almost immediately regretting the decision. She was a little girl and he’d just offered her a means to risk her life on a daily basis. “Only if you agree to only work with me, and only when I say it’s okay.” He defined. It seemed to satiate her, as her grin had returned to her face, and the skip in her step was back as well.  

“Do we have to go back to the cube now?” She asked.