#menace7

Nate felt underdressed. His fingers tapped nervously against the sides of his cargo shorts as he waited at his table outside The Royal Jester, a bar in the downtown New Monmouth area. He raised his hand to the table, trying to find a utensil to check his reflection in, but the metal of the knife and fork were too faded for him to check, not that he would have had much success checking his reflection in a fork. He knew how he looked, how poorly he had groomed himself: his hair was a mess, his beard had been left untrimmed for a day too long (eliminating the “scruffy-yet-charming” look he desired for himself), and his T-shirt, a yellow shirt with black letters in a circle spelling “Ultraman,” had a noticeable smug on its shoulder from the Count-inflicted neck-wounds reopening a few weeks prior. Still,  he had not felt so underdressed until he had seen Eloise sit down across from him.

The girl — who had looked stunningly immaculate in a messy bun while cooking — had, by Nate’s perception, transcended the human limitation of physical beauty. She was wearing her blonde hair down so that the bottom of her hairline rested just below the top of her shoulder. A part divided the curve of her hair just above her left eyebrow, and a blue-faded rose of Sharon seemed to float of the top of the right side of her head. As Nate stared, he could not tell if she was wearing makeup, or if the unashamed, vibrant pink of her lips were just the natural shade. She was wearing a soft blue sundress that began as a light, sky blue but increased in intensity as it fell, so that the bottom cusp of the dress was a bright shade of electric blue. The sharp color of her eyes blended softly with the flower in her hair and top of her dress, but matched equally as well with the intensity of the bottom of her dress. She wore blue Crocs brand sandals with the facade, which normally would have ruined the supposed class of the outfit, but instead augmented the illusion of the ocean mist sweeping over the beach on a hot summer day.

“Am I overdressed?” She asked as she sat across from him. Nate wanted to insist that she wasn’t, that she looked lovely, divine even. Unfortunately, upon seeing her, his tongue had fallen numb, frozen in the image of her beauty, so he remained mute. “I tend to do that a lot.” She laughed softly, her face falling into a nervous smile that, to Nate, felt like a warm embrace. “I don’t have many clothes.” She admitted. “I originally wanted to wear a flower crown,” she explained, “but I don’t have much of a garden. The small balcony off my apartment is, well, small. If I devoted it entirely to blue flowers, then I could never wear any other color of clothing!” She delivered the line proudly, not so much as a joke, but rather the conclusion of many hours planning and planting a garden on the second floor of a rundown apartment building. “Besides, my friends keep telling me that flower crowns are weird. Especially to wear on a first date. Maybe I should get a rainbow dress, then I could wear all the flowers.” She said, beginning to trail off into her own head, picturing the possible color combinations of the flowers she had and the dresses she could buy. Nate watched in awe and amusement as her hands moved casually and without thought as she spoke, attempting to paint with gestures the story she was telling. “Oh!” Eloise said, just remembering the small paper-bag she held in her hand. “I brought you something.” She handed the brown bag to him, and he paused, unsure whether it was polite or impolite to open the bag at the table just as it was given to him. “Go on, look inside.” She prompted. Nate peered inside the bag, where he saw a cupcake and a small piece of paper. He pulled out the paper, and on it he saw a simple doodle of a boy his size dressed in his black shirt, pants, and gloves with the silver rimmed goggles and fingerless gloves. On the bottom, written in elegant script, was the name “Menace.” “The cupcake,” Eloise told him, “was what I was baking when you all barged into my apartment.” Nate nodded as he put the drawing of himself back into the bag, and then rested the bag at his feet. The waitress came by and took their drink orders. “So… did everything work out between you and Jake? He looked pretty angry.”

“Oh,” Nate felt the blood rush to his face as he tried to form words to continue, “yes, everything’s fine. He said something like ‘It’s whatever, dude, we were both thinking with our…’ well, you know.” Nate abruptly stopped talking, but, when Eloise did not say anything, he began to justify: “Which is completely false, by the way. I was not thinking with anything other than my head.” Not even Nate could explain why he was speaking so awkwardly, but each uncomfortable word felt like a bullet in his chest. “Anyway,” he continued grasping desperately for things to talk about, “those paintings in your apartment. Did you paint those yourself? They’re incredible!”

“You think so?” Eloise’s face turned slightly red and she looked down at her empty plate. “I spent way too much time painting them.” She said. “Normally I can sell my paintings,” she began, “but those ones are my favorites; I just can’t seem to let them go. There’s something amazing, mystical about winter days in the city.” She moved her hand to fidget with the flower in her hair. “Are you sure the flower isn’t a little too much?” She asked, and Nate got the sneaking suspicion that she could not care less how he thought she looked, but, rather, that her appearance was an extension of her art, an art that she wanted to be proud of.

“It looks lovely.” Nate managed. Eloise smiled at him, then sipped from her water that the waitress had brought over. “So…” Nate started again, falling into the rhythm of conversations he had had with other heroes throughout his life, “When did you get your powers?”

“Always had em.” She said plainly. “I didn’t always know I did, though.” She paused and brushed some hair behind her ear. “It’s not even much of a power, really. Hyper-sensitive eyesight and hand-eye coordination? I just thought I was always good at art.” She laughed a little, and Nate smiled at the warmth in her voice. “It wasn’t until, oh, say, freshman year that I realized I was a little different.” She smiled.

Nate, caught in the rapport of his normal conversation with other heroes, continued: “So, why did you want to be a —” he stopped himself, swallowed hard, and finished, “villain?” Nate could see that Eloise had tensed upon hearing the question. Her soft smile remained, but her eyes were stricken with something like fear, or perhaps exhilaration. Nate felt like she was far away.

“Look, Menace,” She said flatly, “nobody grows up wanting to be a villain.”

The young witch was very excited for her first night on the job. She walked with Menace into city hall, clocked in, and walked out. She could not have described the inside of the city hall building, or even the outside. To her, the only things that existed were herself, Nate, and the villainy that plagued the city. She walked confidently, straight-backed, behind Menace as he made his way to town square. He told her that this was the best place to start at the beginning of a shift because he could get anywhere in the city equally fast. She pulled out a small notepad and wrote that down. Nate laughed as she did; on the front of the small notebook she had written: “Menace’s Hero Compendium.” He assumed that she had looked up the word “compendium.”

Nate sat on the bench dedicated to Dr. Nelson Selmy, a doctor who happened to have been born in New Monmouth City, and beckoned Courtney to sit as well. She, acting much like a hound dog hunting for its meal, opted to remain standing so that she might get the jump on any villain who might try to sneak by. It was a relatively dull night. The moon overhead was round and full, but it only peaked through the clouds on occasion. The street lamps that lined the square provided most of the light, and the square was fairly populated. Some people chose this night to bring their loved ones out to eat, some parents decided to have their children come play in the square around the fountain, and some had chosen this night to go for a long, thought-filled walk. All-in-all, Courtney estimated that there were about twenty people in the square.

It was a Monday night, so Nate knew that very few villains wanted to go to work; much like everyone else in the world, villains hated Mondays. This was part of the reason that Menace had decided to adopt a sidekick specifically on Monday night. He was sure his new sidekick — who really, at this point, should adopt the hero name Overly Excitable Attack Dog — was not too thrilled by the lack of action, but he had no complaints. That is, until he saw the mask in the crowd.

“Hey, White Witch.” Nate called to her. She turned to make eye contact with him, and he directed her towards the masked man standing at the other end of the square. Nate saw Courtney’s eyes fill with excitement as she turned back towards him.

“What do we do?” She asked, practically wagging her tail. “Can we attack him?”

“With all the civilians around? You know how he uses them. Think, kid.”

“Well, I don’t know.” She said, exasperated. “You wanna shit on my plans, you think of the next one.”

“We should pretend we haven’t seen him.” Nate directed.

“And, what, hope he goes away?” She sassed.

“No, and lure him away from people. Into an alley-way or something. Then we can get the jump on him.” Courtney, evidently satisfied, pulled the notebook out of her pocket and wrote down what Nate had theorized. “You ready yet?” Nate asked impatiently. She dotted the last eye in her notebook, closed the book, and slid it back in the pocket of her sweatshirt.

“Yup.”

Nate stood up casually, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. He checked his phone, pretending (in the largest way he could) that he had seen an alert calling him to another corner of the city. He beckoned for the White Witch to follow, and the two ran from the square. They ran towards downtown New Monmouth, where Nate had eaten earlier that day, and ducked into an alleyway that was crammed between the New Monmouth Public Library and The Royal Jester. Nate had Courtney run all the way to the back end of the alley, and he stood a few feet in front of her, waiting. The two waited, Nate with fear, Courtney with unbridled excitement. This was her first hero mission, and she was going to do well. This was her first hero mission, and Nate was scared shitless.

A minute passed. Then another. Nate was sweating now. He had activated the first stage of his powers, instinctively, when he had first scene the mask in the park.  The moss that was growing on the walls of the Public Library looked slimy and gross, and the slight difference in shading noticeably marked it from the dank, worn walls. Nate could hear the White Witch breathing behind him, could feel her excitement. He realized he didn’t mind having the kid with him.

“Well, well, well.” He heard the shrill voice of the Gentleman as the masked figure walked to the front of the alleyway. “Looks like my little Menace has found himself a sidekick. What’s your name, little lady?”

“I’m the White Witch.” She called out, saying her name defiantly, as though, just by existing, she was spiting him.

“Well, Menace, I believe two against one is remarkably unfair, wouldn’t you agree? Good thing, just for this occasion, I brought myself a plus one as well. I believe you’ve met him, he’s quite famous in some circles.” From the sky dropped a black, winged monster that landed just in front of the Gentleman, facing Nate. It raised itself to its full height and extended its wings, letting out a deafening howl. It then bared its fangs.

“Ah, Count, I see you’re feeling better.” Nate joked, trying to hide the panic he was experiencing. “I didn’t fashion you as one to work with others, Gentleman.”

“I would not call it working together so much as a beast obeying its master. You see, I am in control here. For example.” The Gentleman raised his left hand a wiggled his pointer and middle finger. As he did so, the Count’s wings began to flap and he raised into the air. “But I can command him even without the hands.” The Gentleman admitted, and the beast began to nose-dive towards Nate. As it did a large gust of wind rose to meet it, slowing it as it dove, so that as it approached Menace was able to raise his leg and kick it into the alley wall. It howled it pain as it crashed, but it did not break the library wall, it simply fell to the ground. “Forgetting something?” The Gentleman asked, as his cane swept across Nate’s face, smacking him across the cheek.

“Don’t let him touch you, Court!” Nate commanded as he through a fist at the Gentleman, who ducked, and jabbed his cane into Nate’s ribcage. Nate grunted in pain, as he brought his hands down to grab the Gentleman’s cane. He tugged at the cane, pulling the Gentleman towards him, ready to smack him to the ground, when the Count grabbed him from behind and hoisted him into the air. Nate hovered a few inches of the ground in the suffocating embrace of the Count; he smacked the back of his head into the Count’s monstrous nose, causing the monster to release him, and he fell back to the ground, landing on his hands and knees. The Gentleman, having used this time to regain composure, was able to bring his boot to Nate’s face and knock him onto his back. Nate struggled to his feet as the White Witch sent a gust of wind at the Count, forcing him up and over Menace, back behind the Gentleman.

“Still having fun, Court?” Nate asked, wiping some blood from his mouth.  He stood up to face the Gentleman and the Count. He was still about a minute away from going into the second stage of his powers, which meant he was at least sixteen minutes away from going into the third stage. He could see that the fur covering the Count’s body was puffed out, wildly going in every direction. The mask on the Gentleman’s body looked the same as it always did. Nate’s tongue felt noticeably dry in his mouth. He turned his head to see Courtney, standing firmly behind him. She held her wand out in front of her, the hood of her white sweatshirt had fallen behind her head; her hair looked as crazy as the Count’s. There was a hopeful fierceness to her eyes, like the fight had been won since the beginning.

“Ha.” The Gentleman spoke. “This is wonderful. Delightful, even.” He was shaking his head in an exaggerated fashion, as though he could not believe his luck.

“What are you talking about?” The Menace spat at him, eager to buy as much time as he could.

“When you attacked me last year, during the Catastrophic Event Function, I understood, I realized that you have to do what you have to do. Of course, I was still upset that you never came to apologize. When you threatened me at the wake, though, and refused my help, it led me to believe that you didn’t care that your family’s life was in my hands. You were smart enough to realize that I was threatening their lives. You just did not care.” He punctuated every word with a period as they popped out from his mouth. Nate realized what he was talking about, and turned to look at the White Witch as she stood, her face unwavering. He needed to keep her safe.

The Gentleman laughed as the Count leapt again, reaching over the height of the two story library. “Move!” Menace shouted, as the White Witch pushed him forward with a gust of wind, and forcing herself back against the back wall of the alley. Nate used the gust to launch himself at the Gentleman, who quickly sidestepped the flying boy. Nate grabbed onto his shirt as he passed, and slammed the Gentleman against the ground.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The Gentleman scolded. “You should have been more careful.” He heard a scream from behind him. He turned his head to see the Count’s meaty, hoof of a fist colliding with Courtney’s stomach. She crumpled around the fist as it pressed her against the wall, her face was now completely covered by the hood that had fallen over it. Menace’s second stage of powers activated as he jumped off of the Gentleman and, in a single bound, had grabbed the black collar of fur from around the Count’s neck, and thrown him back with all his might. He lifted Courtney into his arms, and ran out of the alleyway, attempting to step on the Gentleman’s face as he left. He brought her around the corner of the street to just in front of a drugstore, where he put her down. She immediately fell to her hands and knees where she began to hack up blood onto he sidewalk.

“The fight’s not over.” He told her as she fell backwards, catching herself on her hands. She was shaking now and her face had grown incredulously pale. “You’re in a state of shock. You’ll need a few minutes to calm down. We don’t have a few minutes.” He said, trying not to show how horribly he’s panicking.

“I can’t go back out there.” She said. Tears had begun to land on her sweater. Nate wanted to agree. He wanted to shout at her for coming in the first place. He wanted to scold her, tell her to keep safe. That she mattered, and shouldn’t be so frivolous as to pretend she didn’t. He looked at this girl, this poor girl who had nothing. She just wanted to be a hero.

“Hey, hey.” Nate said, sitting down next to the girl. “We all get knocked off our feet once in awhile. You’re learning. I should’ve kept a closer eye on you.” Nate admitted. She was still breathing rapidly.

“I’m sorry for forcing you to take me.” She said, not trying to hide the tears anymore. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this, Nate.” Her breathing was speeding up and the tears weren’t stopping. “I guess I just won’t be a hero.” She broke down, then, into her hands she was practically sobbing, trying to wipe away the tears but they were coming too quickly.

Nate grabbed the girl’s chin and lifted into the air gently, yet forcefully, so that he could look into her watery, red eyes. “Deep breaths, kid. Deep breaths.” Nate let go of her chin, but she kept staring up at him. “It’s okay.” He promised her. “You’re okay.” He brought her head to his chest and she wrapped her arms around him as she tried to sniffle up the last of her tears. He leaned down so that his head was right next to hers, and whispered into her ear: “Keep going.”

She nodded and struggled to her feet. Nate stood. “Think you’ve got a few sparks left?” He asked. She nodded again, afraid to speak for fear that her voice would crack from the tears. “Good, give it all to them.”

The Count was barreling towards them, the Gentleman walking briskly behind the beast. Nate’s fist found its way onto the monster’s chest, forcing it backwards. The beast staggered back, let out something like a screech, then came at him again. Their hands interlocked as Nate dug his heals into the ground; he began to press back against the wrists of the Count, forcing his hands to tilt back, his wrists to crack, and his knees to bend into submission. Nate hadn’t realized that he was yelling in the monster’s face as Menace forced him to the ground. The Gentleman had been making his way around the scene towards the White Witch who was focusing intently on her magic, her eyes closed as she chanted words under her breath. Nate kicked the beast down, then forced himself towards the Gentleman, landing his foot against the masked man’s shoulder, and toppling him to the ground. The Count was rising from where Nate had left him, still recoiling from the kick. He stared right at the Menace, who fixed his goggles onto his eyes, turned to the White Witch and gave her the thumbs up.

The Count screeched as the White Which screamed and brought her wand straight downwards, and with it came a lighting strike slamming into the Count’s monstrous form, a thunderclap drowning out all other sounds as it did. The Count fell into the street, breathing, Nate could hear, but certainly unconscious. He turned towards the Gentleman who had struggled to his feet, pulled from his cane a thin sword, and held it to the back of Courtney’s throat. Courtney had fallen to the ground, the effort of the magic forcing her to her knees.

“It looks like our associates have grown tired.” The Gentleman spoke to him. “The difference is,” the Gentleman lifted his free hand, and with it, the unconscious Count rose to his feet, “mine can fight forever.” Nate sighed in exasperation. “But,” the Gentleman continued, “that would be animal cruelty. I have learned what I have needed to learn, and done what I needed to do. Besides, she’s more valuable to me alive than dead, for the time being, at least. Furthermore, I’d like to thank you, Menace, for turning a blind eye to my bank robbery tomorrow at seven in the evening. So does your little friend here.” He, and the Count, walked slowly out, down the street. Nate fell down to his hands and knees, looking over at Courtney, who’s eyes could barely afford to stay open.