"THIS IS MY TOWN!" I bellow before exploding out of the sky, back down toward the city.
I smell trouble.
-----
WHAM! Something bounces off the side of a semi trailer .
The two men with flashlights that are robbing the truck depot look up from what they're doing and both of their cries of fear are cut off by strong, authoritive hands covering their mouths.
Moments later they stumble into the road, their hands bound behind them with bent tire irons. Their pants are down around their ankles. Something triggered the alarm in the depot office, signalling the police.
The police see something streaking across the sky just as they pull up in front of the two pantsless thieves.
-----
Two kids, no older than 11 are on the playground at Washington Elementary, sitting on the swings, lighting cigarettes one of them pinched from his mother's purse.
They cough on the harsh smoke as they gasp in surprise when the Punchernaut crashes into the jungle gym. As he untangles himself from the bars, he curses and spits, frustrated.
They're frozen as he marches up, pinches the cigarettes from where they hang from their loose, surprised lips. He throws them into the asphault and steps on them.
"Quit that," He says, "It makes you look stupid."
And with that he's ripping straight up and out of sight.
One of the boys, wide-eyed, whispers, "Cool."
-----
A meth lab bust on the north end of town goes awry when the operator makes a break for the back door. He leaps the fence and the cops are too slow to follow.
The officers scramble over the fence in time to see the Punchernaut holding the guy's head under the water of the neighbors' kids' wading pool. Their flashlights fall over the Punchernaut's face and he looks at them like a deer caught in headlights before vanishing again.
Within seconds the perp is in handcuffs and on his way to the back of a squad car.
-----
Along highway 41, an old couple is pulled aside to the shoulder, desperately studying a map in the dim dome light of their 87 Olds.
A strange man in a dress shirt and tie literally falls out of the sky and hits the pavement, head-first. He stands, shakes his head, and then looks at them. Desperately they
Choked with fear, the old couple lock the doors. They're starting to roll the windows up, but before they know it, the man is at the window. He has an eyepatch on.
"Looks like you're lost," the mysterious cyclopian stranger says, "Where you headed?"
The old man in the driver seat says in a quivering voice, "W-we're trying to get to Oaktown..."
The man in the tie gives them directions and then runs off down the road before taking to the air again.
They didn't even have a chance to thank him.
-----
A dog wanders into the street at the wrong moment.
A car full of teenagers, passing around a bottle of Grey Goose speeds down the road.
The driver, a girl of about 17, screams and slams on the breaks, but it's too late.
Or so she thinks.
She hits a man instead, that was not there half a second ago. His hands drive into the hood of the car and his legs slip under the car. Everybody piles out of the car, a cloud of shuffling feet and "Holy shits".
The man is gone.
The dog is gone.
Huge hand-shaped dents are made in the hood of the car.
At that moment, a police siren breaks their stunned silence.
The kids scatter.
-----
Jessica Turner, age 9, sits on her back steps. It's well past her bedtime, but Molly, her basset hound, had disappeared hours before.
"Excuse me."
She turns to her left and sees the man from the papers standing there in his tie and his eyepatch. He's holding Molly in his arms.
"Excuese me," he says again, "But is this your dog?"
Without saying anything the Jessica Turner, age 9, rushes to the man and to the dog and takes the dog from him and twirls as Molly licks happy tears from the girl's face.
By the time she turns to thank him, he's gone again.
-----
The Neighborhood Watch car pulls up at a red light.
Dark eyes stare through dark glasses at the dark intersection.
There's a sound like machine gun fire and the man with the dark glasses lays down across the front seat, covering his head, waiting for the inevitable sound of shattering glass, but it's not a rain of bullets. Something else is hammering into the side of his car.
Braying, cackling laughter interrupts the dangerous silence.
The man called Duke gets out of his car and inspects the damage.
A whole carton of eggs has been splattered against the side of his car.
He catches a glimpse of the Punchernaut as he takes to the sky.
"LATER JERKS!" the "hero" cries.
Duke's ancient lips pull themselves into a humorless smile.
What? I can't be good ALL the time.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Fragments of a Superhero Breakdown
The more I thought about her possibly being the Iris Pirate, the worse it got.
I hate the Iris Pirate.
But I don't hate the girl.
That means I love the Iris Pirate...
I've never been more attracted to anybody in my life.
And I've never hated anybody any more, either.
-----
The boy is young.
He's a bit chunky.
He's wearing his white shirt and pink tie. His blue blazer is over his lap. The tips of his black leather shoes tap on the floor as he kicks his legs, still too short to completely touch the floor. The rubber on the bottom of his shoes makes little black scuffs on the floor.
Red blood under his nose and over his lips stands out against the white of his shirt and his blue jacket and shorts.
The school nurse is in hysterics, almost crying.
"Let me get this straight," the dean says. The boy can hear his voice, and the guy has to be trembling like a leaf, "He took his hand and made a fist..."
"AND HE HIT ANOTHER BOY!" the nurse screams, "HOW MANY TIMES DO YOU WANT TO FORCE ME TO SAY IT!?"
"He hit him... With his fist?" The dean swallows so loud the boy can hear it from the hallway outside the room, "Like somebody hitting a nail with a hammer?"
"YES HE HIT HIM!" the nurse dissolves into sobs.
"And the other boy... Hit him back?"
The nurse just wails.
In a world of scientists, dreamers, and inventors, nobody had invented fighting.
Not until now.
The boy smiles with bloodstained teeth.
-----
Maybe she's out there. Maybe it's not my girl at all. The Iris Pirate. Maybe the Iris Pirate just moved to a different town.
No.
No, it can't be a coincidence that they both showed up at the same time.
That's impossible.
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror and I take off my eyepatch.
Patrol can wait another night. Just one more.
-----
"They made us!" The sick gray thing yells, "And this is our destiny!"
It's been a year. The boy with the bloody nose is older now.
"They didn't make us to do this!" The boy screams. He stands amidst the destuction and he looks helpless and lost.
"Chassit," The boy's name is Chassit, "If this isn't what you're supposed to do, then WHAT!?"
"I'm supposed to stop guys like you," Chassit says.
Then they're rushing toward each other, fists drawn back.
Like the hammer of a gun.
These fists are Iceland's first weapons.
No, the boys.
The boys are Iceland's first weapons.
The first and the last.
-----
Laying on the floor with the costume on. I'm close to the door. I could go on patrol.
But what if I run into her?
Do I fight her?
Do I tell her I know?
Even if they're not the same person...
I think I love the Iris Pirate.
Either way, I think I love her.
-----
The worst part is hitting the ground, he thinks.
Not the feeling as much as the sound, wet and thick.
If he was anybody else, he'd have been dead 100 times over.
Chassit climbs from the hole, dazed and confused. His pink tie is loose around his neck and his white shirt is on fire. He pats it out and looks up at the stars.
They sent him away...
He saved them and they sent him away...
He hears something coming.
Some sort of hovercar, but with wheels. There are lights on the front.
Wait, wheels?
Wheels!
Whoever heard of wheels on anything but a child's toy?
The aliens inside stop closeby and get out of the car.
"My God, Mike... it's a boy," The woman alien says.
-----
I haven't put the tie on in a week.
The eyepatch... I don't even remember where it is.
I take my eye out twice a day to clean it, but that's it.
The shirt lays crumpled on the floor.
I hear sirens and I start to get up.
I sit back down.
Let the cops get it...
-----
Chassit has amnesia. He doesn't know where he came from.
That's what he tells everyone.
But Chassit knows what he is.
He rolls his sleeve up in his new bedroom, years later, and he traces his fingers over the symbol there.
XIX
"How could they give a child a tattoo?" Dwana (Mom) had said.
Mike (Dad) just shrugged.
-----
Chassit goes through the schools on Earth and learns very little other than the planet's culture.
On his planet Iceland, he lived in the City of Inventors, Sector 17, Workers' District.
On this new planet Earth, he lives in America, Indiana, Vincennes, just a mile from the district called Downtown.
He fights very little, for fear he'd destroy these weak things that call themselves human.
He grows older and stronger and, when he turns 16, the sick gray thing appears again in a public bathroom between here and somewhere.
Nowhere.
He may have saved the world again. A different world, but a saved world all the same.
The papers call him a hero.
The police call him a menace.
And there in that place between places, the Punchernaut was born.
Chassit had found his place.
Here a fighter was not an abomination.
A fighter was a hero.
-----
In the bathroom mirror again.
The eyepatch was down in the couch cushions. Now it's where it belongs.
The tie is knotted perfectly.
Open palms slap the white fabric over a strong chest.
"I'm a machine!" The Punchernaut yells.
SLAP!
"I'm an animal!"
And he bursts out the front door like a torpedo.
He rips through the air so fast it burns.
He grins that maniac grin like when little Chassit invented fighting on the playground in grammar school on the tiny planet Iceland. The lights from the city below create their own perfect little galaxy.
"THIS IS MY TOWN!" The Punchernaut bellows.
Half the town hears and they all look up from what they're doing.
The paper reads the next day:
"PUNCHERNAUT: BACK IN ACTION"
I hate the Iris Pirate.
But I don't hate the girl.
That means I love the Iris Pirate...
I've never been more attracted to anybody in my life.
And I've never hated anybody any more, either.
-----
The boy is young.
He's a bit chunky.
He's wearing his white shirt and pink tie. His blue blazer is over his lap. The tips of his black leather shoes tap on the floor as he kicks his legs, still too short to completely touch the floor. The rubber on the bottom of his shoes makes little black scuffs on the floor.
Red blood under his nose and over his lips stands out against the white of his shirt and his blue jacket and shorts.
The school nurse is in hysterics, almost crying.
"Let me get this straight," the dean says. The boy can hear his voice, and the guy has to be trembling like a leaf, "He took his hand and made a fist..."
"AND HE HIT ANOTHER BOY!" the nurse screams, "HOW MANY TIMES DO YOU WANT TO FORCE ME TO SAY IT!?"
"He hit him... With his fist?" The dean swallows so loud the boy can hear it from the hallway outside the room, "Like somebody hitting a nail with a hammer?"
"YES HE HIT HIM!" the nurse dissolves into sobs.
"And the other boy... Hit him back?"
The nurse just wails.
In a world of scientists, dreamers, and inventors, nobody had invented fighting.
Not until now.
The boy smiles with bloodstained teeth.
-----
Maybe she's out there. Maybe it's not my girl at all. The Iris Pirate. Maybe the Iris Pirate just moved to a different town.
No.
No, it can't be a coincidence that they both showed up at the same time.
That's impossible.
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror and I take off my eyepatch.
Patrol can wait another night. Just one more.
-----
"They made us!" The sick gray thing yells, "And this is our destiny!"
It's been a year. The boy with the bloody nose is older now.
"They didn't make us to do this!" The boy screams. He stands amidst the destuction and he looks helpless and lost.
"Chassit," The boy's name is Chassit, "If this isn't what you're supposed to do, then WHAT!?"
"I'm supposed to stop guys like you," Chassit says.
Then they're rushing toward each other, fists drawn back.
Like the hammer of a gun.
These fists are Iceland's first weapons.
No, the boys.
The boys are Iceland's first weapons.
The first and the last.
-----
Laying on the floor with the costume on. I'm close to the door. I could go on patrol.
But what if I run into her?
Do I fight her?
Do I tell her I know?
Even if they're not the same person...
I think I love the Iris Pirate.
Either way, I think I love her.
-----
The worst part is hitting the ground, he thinks.
Not the feeling as much as the sound, wet and thick.
If he was anybody else, he'd have been dead 100 times over.
Chassit climbs from the hole, dazed and confused. His pink tie is loose around his neck and his white shirt is on fire. He pats it out and looks up at the stars.
They sent him away...
He saved them and they sent him away...
He hears something coming.
Some sort of hovercar, but with wheels. There are lights on the front.
Wait, wheels?
Wheels!
Whoever heard of wheels on anything but a child's toy?
The aliens inside stop closeby and get out of the car.
"My God, Mike... it's a boy," The woman alien says.
-----
I haven't put the tie on in a week.
The eyepatch... I don't even remember where it is.
I take my eye out twice a day to clean it, but that's it.
The shirt lays crumpled on the floor.
I hear sirens and I start to get up.
I sit back down.
Let the cops get it...
-----
Chassit has amnesia. He doesn't know where he came from.
That's what he tells everyone.
But Chassit knows what he is.
He rolls his sleeve up in his new bedroom, years later, and he traces his fingers over the symbol there.
XIX
"How could they give a child a tattoo?" Dwana (Mom) had said.
Mike (Dad) just shrugged.
-----
Chassit goes through the schools on Earth and learns very little other than the planet's culture.
On his planet Iceland, he lived in the City of Inventors, Sector 17, Workers' District.
On this new planet Earth, he lives in America, Indiana, Vincennes, just a mile from the district called Downtown.
He fights very little, for fear he'd destroy these weak things that call themselves human.
He grows older and stronger and, when he turns 16, the sick gray thing appears again in a public bathroom between here and somewhere.
Nowhere.
He may have saved the world again. A different world, but a saved world all the same.
The papers call him a hero.
The police call him a menace.
And there in that place between places, the Punchernaut was born.
Chassit had found his place.
Here a fighter was not an abomination.
A fighter was a hero.
-----
In the bathroom mirror again.
The eyepatch was down in the couch cushions. Now it's where it belongs.
The tie is knotted perfectly.
Open palms slap the white fabric over a strong chest.
"I'm a machine!" The Punchernaut yells.
SLAP!
"I'm an animal!"
And he bursts out the front door like a torpedo.
He rips through the air so fast it burns.
He grins that maniac grin like when little Chassit invented fighting on the playground in grammar school on the tiny planet Iceland. The lights from the city below create their own perfect little galaxy.
"THIS IS MY TOWN!" The Punchernaut bellows.
Half the town hears and they all look up from what they're doing.
The paper reads the next day:
"PUNCHERNAUT: BACK IN ACTION"
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Could It Be?
Has the Punchernaut had the wool pulled over his eyes?
No... No, she couldn't be...
I haven't seen the Iris Pirate since my ladyfriend left.
Oh no.
No... No, she couldn't be...
I haven't seen the Iris Pirate since my ladyfriend left.
Oh no.
Monday, April 9, 2007
I'll Kill Her
Oh god.
I woke up last night after the girl visiting me had gone to sleep. I was really restless and bored, so I decided to go on a short patrol of the city to entertain myself. Also figured I'd make a few more appearances in my new duds.
I was out for an hour, wandering around in the North End, when I heard a ruckus at Cutter's Way, a small bar on Second Street. I ran out there to see what was up and a body flew out the window.
I went in to see what the commotion was, hoping for a supervillain of some kind when I saw her.
The Iris Pirate.
She was right THERE.
Oh my God. OH MY GOD!
I lunged at her, but she saw me coming and threw me into the jukebox. It literally, LITERALLY exploded. Pieces flew everywhere. I was covered in chunks of broken jukebox and quarters, scrambling to my feet. The change slipped me up under my shoes and I nearly fell.
I was PISSED, and wouldn't you know, I see the Iris Pirate making a break for the door, so I took off after her.
Damn, she's fast!
I chased her all over town for the good part of two hours. Finally, at about 4:30, she lost me, SOMEHOW. I was FUMING. I looked all over town, but finally gave up and went home at about 5:15.
My ladyfriend was up when I got home, so I changed back into my regular clothes in the yard and then came in. Told her I had gone for a walk.
The Iris Pirate is in my town.
I'm going to find her.
And I'm going to kill her.
NOBODY WEARS AN EYEPATCH BUT ME!
AND THIS IS MY GOD DAMN TURF!!
I woke up last night after the girl visiting me had gone to sleep. I was really restless and bored, so I decided to go on a short patrol of the city to entertain myself. Also figured I'd make a few more appearances in my new duds.
I was out for an hour, wandering around in the North End, when I heard a ruckus at Cutter's Way, a small bar on Second Street. I ran out there to see what was up and a body flew out the window.
I went in to see what the commotion was, hoping for a supervillain of some kind when I saw her.
The Iris Pirate.
She was right THERE.
Oh my God. OH MY GOD!
I lunged at her, but she saw me coming and threw me into the jukebox. It literally, LITERALLY exploded. Pieces flew everywhere. I was covered in chunks of broken jukebox and quarters, scrambling to my feet. The change slipped me up under my shoes and I nearly fell.
I was PISSED, and wouldn't you know, I see the Iris Pirate making a break for the door, so I took off after her.
Damn, she's fast!
I chased her all over town for the good part of two hours. Finally, at about 4:30, she lost me, SOMEHOW. I was FUMING. I looked all over town, but finally gave up and went home at about 5:15.
My ladyfriend was up when I got home, so I changed back into my regular clothes in the yard and then came in. Told her I had gone for a walk.
The Iris Pirate is in my town.
I'm going to find her.
And I'm going to kill her.
NOBODY WEARS AN EYEPATCH BUT ME!
AND THIS IS MY GOD DAMN TURF!!
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Dark Suit Punchernaut vs. An Old Nemesis
I went on a date the other night with the young lady who came to visit me. Nothing fancy. Dinner and a movie, with a stop by a comic book shop.
Thing is, we dressed up for it anyway, despite the fact that we were just going to a movie and then to Denny's. I was wearing black pants, a black shirt, and a silver tie.
The date went well. Great movie, even better company, all that. When she and I got home, she went to the bathroom to wash off her makeup. I settled back on the couch and flipped on the TV to see if anything good was on.
In a fashion that is true to my luck, the second I got interested in Ninja Warrior, the screen went black and there was a piercing tone. Then, black letters appeared on the screen reading "EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM."
"WARNING! The following is an alert from the Vincennes and Knox County Police Departments. Residents are advised to remain in their homes until further notice. The downtown area of Vincennes, Indiana is off-limits due to blah blah blah who cares."
Downtown area off-limits? That can only mean one thing, and I really should show my face down there.
One problem, though
My costume is in the bathroom hamper.
My ladyfriend is in the bathroom washing her makeup off.
Crap.
It's not like I can knock on the door and say, "Honey, hand me my top secret superhero uniform. I need to go fight a monster downtown real quick."
Crap, crap, crap.
No time to wait for her and sneak out, either. I loosen my tie, undo the top button on my shirt. I'm pulling my eyepatch on as I'm going out the door, yelling something about how I forgot my wallet at Denny's and I'll be right back.
On the way there, I realize I look pretty cool. I'm like Spider-Man when he wears his black suit. Maybe I should switch it up and wear this sometimes when I go out on patrol. Makes me more mysterious and creepy. Plus, the all black with the silver accent is pretty cool.
I almost run into a parked car because I'm too busy checking myself out in the rearview mirror.
Come on, Punchernaut. Time to focus.
I drive downtown and park a few blocks away from the roadblock the police have set up. I can see what's going on from here.
Looming over the downtown skyline is a great, furry beast. Even from this far away, leathery paws shake the ground beneath my feet. I can hear the constant sniff-sniff-sniffing as the beast pushes his nose against the windows of buildings, and I can hear the muffled screams from the people inside. The beast bats a paw at one of the stores on Main Street, shattering glass with just the slightest of nudges, crumbling bricks as though they were a child's building blocks. It picks at the crushed stone with its teeth, chomping and gnawing. The beast then pulls its head up and, with a mouthfull of crunched up bricks and cement, causes the air to tremble with an ear-splitting roar.
"HURRFF HURRFF!"
It's Willie the Giant Dog.
Willie is, obviously, a giant dog. A chocolate lab, I think. Maybe some kind of mutt, but he looks like a chocolate lab. Nobody really knows how he became a giant dog. He may have just started out that way. I don't even really know how he got to be called Willie, but he answers to it. All I really know about Willie is this: He's about 30 feet tall and he and I have been in a few scuffles before.
Willie isn't bad. He's just a dog, and dogs are... well, dumb. I mean, I've got two dogs myself, and I love them to death, but ask anybody. Dogs are pretty stupid. Willie is no exception.
As far as I can figure, Willie is some kind of mutant, because he lives in the river that runs along the outskirts of town. Once in a great while he'll come out and start goofing around in town, and of course, everybody freaks out because they think he's a monster. He's just curious. I think he might still be a puppy. It's hard to tell how old something is when it's 10 times taller than you are.
I sneak off down the narrow alley between buildings, making my way to Willie. Approaching sirens tell me that more squad cars are on the way. The majority of the city police are blocking the streets to downtown, so these are probably state police.
I hate state police.
Despite that, I don't want them getting hurt. Mostly for Willie's sake. If he hurts a cop, they'll paint a big target on his head, and they'll probably have him killed.
I love dogs.
So, once again, it's up to me to show him who's boss.
I step out from the shadows of the alley and into the parking lot outside of the Old Towne Tavern. Willie is gnawing on a tree in the little recreation area the city uses for public events and bazaars. One thing I can say for the local news: They've already got a chopper in the air. They're circling the area, shining a light down on Willie, who casts a wary eye at the light once in a while. Twice, the light shines on the ground and Willie lets go of the tree and tires to bite the light shining on the ground. Twice, he comes back empty handed (mouthed?) and confused before going back to gnawing on the trunk of his tree.
"Willie! Hey!" I shout. The dog stops and looks at me from the side of his eye. He spins and does a play bow, his butt in the air, his tail wagging. He remembers me. It's kind of cute. I walk right up to him and pat him on the nose. "What are you doing, big guy? You gotta get out of here. The cops are coming, and they're not as nice as me."
Willie licks my face. Well, tries to. His tongue is so big it gets most of me and almost knocks me off my feet. "Hey hey hey, cut it out! Come on, man. Just get back in the river." The sirens are getting closer and Willie's ears perk up. He's looking at something over my shoulder. Oh, God, they're here.
With an excited bark that rattles my eardrums, he stands and runs past me, almost crushing me with one of his massive feet, directly at one of the approaching state police cars. He's got his nose to the ground, and his tail trails in the grass. He's not going to hurt those cops. I say a little apology and I grab him by the tail and yank. He digs his heels into the concrete and I drag him back.
"WILLIE STAY AWAY FROM THERE!"
Almost too fast, a giant head flips back at me and bites at my arms. If he'd have gotten me, I'd have to change my name to the Kickernaut. I let go and he's after the car again, his tail in the air this time.
I'm running past him just as he starts pushing the car around with his nose. The cops inside are yelling, trying to get out, but every time they go for the door, Willie's massive snout presses against it and knocks the car around the street. He's going to flip it.
I get to the trunk of the car and take the bumper in both of my hands. I'm pulling it away from Willie, but he just follows. He thinks I'm playing with him. "WILLIE! Willie, LEAVE IT! No!"
Then the cop does something stupid. He opens his window and fires a single, blind shot from his 9mm into Willie's neck.
Willie.
Goes.
CRAZY!
I'm hit with a wave of dog breath, balmy and thick, as Willie opens wide and chomps down on the hood of the car. A low growl comes out through his clenched teeth and he starts to lift the car. I grip the bumper so tight the steel bends, leaving handprints in the car. I hear the doors of the cop cars behind me opening and leather shoes hitting the concrete.
"Stand down!" one of the cops yells at me through the loudspeaker on his car.
"Oh for God's sake." Willie lifts the car with his teeth and I hang on for dear life. He has his front heels dug into the pavement, pulling it up like loose carpet. His butt is up in the air again and he's inching (footing?) backwards with his front legs, trying to wrench the car from my grasp. I jerk on the car and his teeth just rip through the hood of the car and the engine like we're playing tug-of-war with an old sock, rather than a police vehicle. The doors open and two bewildered and terrified-looking police tumble out into the street. They crawl on all fours away from the car, back behind me to their comrades.
Nobody's saying anything now. I shake my arms wildly, trying to wrench the car from Willie's grasp. The bottoms of my sneakers feel like they're going to rip out, and I can hear the pavement I'm standing on cracking as I dig my heels in and pull harder.
Shaking the car was a mistake.
You know what happens when you shake something while you're playing tug-of-war with a dog.
I realize my mistake about 60 feet in the air. I'm flipping end-over-end, the bumper of a police car still in my arms. I hurl the car into the river and wait for gravity to pull me back down to Willie. He's already sniffing at another car. I feel myself slowing and I feel that sinking feeling in my gut just as I slam into the WTWO Channel 2 News Team Action Chopper, or whatever the heck they call it. Surprised, the wind knocked out of me, I grip at the runners at the bottom of the chopper as it rocks back and forth in the air like a boat on troubled water. Frantically, I scramble to keep from falling. I know I'd survive the fall, but I really don't want to fall 60 feet. I hear gunshots down below, and I hear Willie barking. This is bad.
But at least now I have a plan.
I claw my way into the chopper and I'm greeted by a stunned pilot, some faceless field reporter I've never seen before and a cameraman.
Flustered, the reporter begins, "I-I-We-We've just been j-joined here in the chopper by, um, the, um, P-Punchernaut, and um --"
"Hey, shut up." I turn to the pilot and pull one side of his headset off. "Can you land this bird on top of the tavern?"
"You bet I can," and already, he's steering the copter that way. "I'm a big fan, by the way. They say you're a menace, but my kids love you."
"I get that a lot."
"So what's the plan now, Punchernaut?" The reporter shoves a microphone in my face.
"The plan now," I say as the helicopter delicately touches down on top of the tavern, "Is you shut up for a minute. And you," I point at the cameraman, "Keep that pointed at me. Mr. Pilot, kill the engine." He does and everybody piles out onto the roof of Old Towne.
"And what now?" the reporter asks. He's nervous.
"I told you to shut up." I pull the back rotor off the helicopter and drop it on the roof. It was spinning so fast it hurt my hand when I stopped it. That might leave a bruise. I snap my fingers at the cameraman. "Hey, Jethro. Point the camera at the dog."
He does as I tell him. "So what now?" he asks.
"I make you three stars." And with that, I grab the helicopter by the tail skid and leap off the roof, swinging it high above my head. Willie's got another car flipped over, and he's ripping the pipes and things out of the bottom fo it. Other officers are firing round after round, shouting, pleading with him. I think one of the guys up front might be crying. I can hear the officers inside the car screaming. Willie's shrugging the bullets off like they're nothing. I bend my knees and grit my teeth as I sail through the air, closing the distance, the tiny helicopter held over my shoulder like a club.
Willie flips his head back, tossing the axle of the car over the back of his head, just as I swing the helicopter and bust him across the nose with the bottom of the helicopter. The helicopter rips in half like a cardboard tube and pieces go flying every which direction. The blades on top break off and fly in different directions, one smashing into the building Willie smashed in earlier, two of them landing in the river, the fourth hitting the dirt at Willie's feet like a javeline. I land on my feet right next to it. I point an accusitory finger at Willie.
"NOO!!" I roar at him. "BAD!"
Willie recoils in horror and backs off.
"BACK INTO THE RIVER, WILLIE!" I point at the river and stamp my foot, glaring at him. He breaks eye contact and whimpers, reluctantly walking toward the river. I follow him, stamping my feet and puffing my chest up, making myself look bigger. I bark at him: "GET IN THERE NOW!"
Willie steps into the water and casts one look over his shoulder, as if apologizing. I cock my head at him and scowl. He looks away and slowly, tail between his legs, head down, he descends into the murky depths from wence he came.
I make my way back to the car Willie was just destroying and I pull the door open. Inside is a familiar face.
"Hey. You're one of the assholes who shot me last week!"
"I-I didn't me-mean anythi--"
I slam the door and then kick it, breaking the handle mechanism. "Better call the fire department to get him out of there," I say as I shove past the gaggle of cops who've come around to gawk at the destruction. I get past them and I crouch, then I take to the air.
I love flying.
I hate landing.
I bounce off the hood of my car and hit the sidewalk.
God I hate landing.
Thing is, we dressed up for it anyway, despite the fact that we were just going to a movie and then to Denny's. I was wearing black pants, a black shirt, and a silver tie.
The date went well. Great movie, even better company, all that. When she and I got home, she went to the bathroom to wash off her makeup. I settled back on the couch and flipped on the TV to see if anything good was on.
In a fashion that is true to my luck, the second I got interested in Ninja Warrior, the screen went black and there was a piercing tone. Then, black letters appeared on the screen reading "EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM."
"WARNING! The following is an alert from the Vincennes and Knox County Police Departments. Residents are advised to remain in their homes until further notice. The downtown area of Vincennes, Indiana is off-limits due to blah blah blah who cares."
Downtown area off-limits? That can only mean one thing, and I really should show my face down there.
One problem, though
My costume is in the bathroom hamper.
My ladyfriend is in the bathroom washing her makeup off.
Crap.
It's not like I can knock on the door and say, "Honey, hand me my top secret superhero uniform. I need to go fight a monster downtown real quick."
Crap, crap, crap.
No time to wait for her and sneak out, either. I loosen my tie, undo the top button on my shirt. I'm pulling my eyepatch on as I'm going out the door, yelling something about how I forgot my wallet at Denny's and I'll be right back.
On the way there, I realize I look pretty cool. I'm like Spider-Man when he wears his black suit. Maybe I should switch it up and wear this sometimes when I go out on patrol. Makes me more mysterious and creepy. Plus, the all black with the silver accent is pretty cool.
I almost run into a parked car because I'm too busy checking myself out in the rearview mirror.
Come on, Punchernaut. Time to focus.
I drive downtown and park a few blocks away from the roadblock the police have set up. I can see what's going on from here.
Looming over the downtown skyline is a great, furry beast. Even from this far away, leathery paws shake the ground beneath my feet. I can hear the constant sniff-sniff-sniffing as the beast pushes his nose against the windows of buildings, and I can hear the muffled screams from the people inside. The beast bats a paw at one of the stores on Main Street, shattering glass with just the slightest of nudges, crumbling bricks as though they were a child's building blocks. It picks at the crushed stone with its teeth, chomping and gnawing. The beast then pulls its head up and, with a mouthfull of crunched up bricks and cement, causes the air to tremble with an ear-splitting roar.
"HURRFF HURRFF!"
It's Willie the Giant Dog.
Willie is, obviously, a giant dog. A chocolate lab, I think. Maybe some kind of mutt, but he looks like a chocolate lab. Nobody really knows how he became a giant dog. He may have just started out that way. I don't even really know how he got to be called Willie, but he answers to it. All I really know about Willie is this: He's about 30 feet tall and he and I have been in a few scuffles before.
Willie isn't bad. He's just a dog, and dogs are... well, dumb. I mean, I've got two dogs myself, and I love them to death, but ask anybody. Dogs are pretty stupid. Willie is no exception.
As far as I can figure, Willie is some kind of mutant, because he lives in the river that runs along the outskirts of town. Once in a great while he'll come out and start goofing around in town, and of course, everybody freaks out because they think he's a monster. He's just curious. I think he might still be a puppy. It's hard to tell how old something is when it's 10 times taller than you are.
I sneak off down the narrow alley between buildings, making my way to Willie. Approaching sirens tell me that more squad cars are on the way. The majority of the city police are blocking the streets to downtown, so these are probably state police.
I hate state police.
Despite that, I don't want them getting hurt. Mostly for Willie's sake. If he hurts a cop, they'll paint a big target on his head, and they'll probably have him killed.
I love dogs.
So, once again, it's up to me to show him who's boss.
I step out from the shadows of the alley and into the parking lot outside of the Old Towne Tavern. Willie is gnawing on a tree in the little recreation area the city uses for public events and bazaars. One thing I can say for the local news: They've already got a chopper in the air. They're circling the area, shining a light down on Willie, who casts a wary eye at the light once in a while. Twice, the light shines on the ground and Willie lets go of the tree and tires to bite the light shining on the ground. Twice, he comes back empty handed (mouthed?) and confused before going back to gnawing on the trunk of his tree.
"Willie! Hey!" I shout. The dog stops and looks at me from the side of his eye. He spins and does a play bow, his butt in the air, his tail wagging. He remembers me. It's kind of cute. I walk right up to him and pat him on the nose. "What are you doing, big guy? You gotta get out of here. The cops are coming, and they're not as nice as me."
Willie licks my face. Well, tries to. His tongue is so big it gets most of me and almost knocks me off my feet. "Hey hey hey, cut it out! Come on, man. Just get back in the river." The sirens are getting closer and Willie's ears perk up. He's looking at something over my shoulder. Oh, God, they're here.
With an excited bark that rattles my eardrums, he stands and runs past me, almost crushing me with one of his massive feet, directly at one of the approaching state police cars. He's got his nose to the ground, and his tail trails in the grass. He's not going to hurt those cops. I say a little apology and I grab him by the tail and yank. He digs his heels into the concrete and I drag him back.
"WILLIE STAY AWAY FROM THERE!"
Almost too fast, a giant head flips back at me and bites at my arms. If he'd have gotten me, I'd have to change my name to the Kickernaut. I let go and he's after the car again, his tail in the air this time.
I'm running past him just as he starts pushing the car around with his nose. The cops inside are yelling, trying to get out, but every time they go for the door, Willie's massive snout presses against it and knocks the car around the street. He's going to flip it.
I get to the trunk of the car and take the bumper in both of my hands. I'm pulling it away from Willie, but he just follows. He thinks I'm playing with him. "WILLIE! Willie, LEAVE IT! No!"
Then the cop does something stupid. He opens his window and fires a single, blind shot from his 9mm into Willie's neck.
Willie.
Goes.
CRAZY!
I'm hit with a wave of dog breath, balmy and thick, as Willie opens wide and chomps down on the hood of the car. A low growl comes out through his clenched teeth and he starts to lift the car. I grip the bumper so tight the steel bends, leaving handprints in the car. I hear the doors of the cop cars behind me opening and leather shoes hitting the concrete.
"Stand down!" one of the cops yells at me through the loudspeaker on his car.
"Oh for God's sake." Willie lifts the car with his teeth and I hang on for dear life. He has his front heels dug into the pavement, pulling it up like loose carpet. His butt is up in the air again and he's inching (footing?) backwards with his front legs, trying to wrench the car from my grasp. I jerk on the car and his teeth just rip through the hood of the car and the engine like we're playing tug-of-war with an old sock, rather than a police vehicle. The doors open and two bewildered and terrified-looking police tumble out into the street. They crawl on all fours away from the car, back behind me to their comrades.
Nobody's saying anything now. I shake my arms wildly, trying to wrench the car from Willie's grasp. The bottoms of my sneakers feel like they're going to rip out, and I can hear the pavement I'm standing on cracking as I dig my heels in and pull harder.
Shaking the car was a mistake.
You know what happens when you shake something while you're playing tug-of-war with a dog.
I realize my mistake about 60 feet in the air. I'm flipping end-over-end, the bumper of a police car still in my arms. I hurl the car into the river and wait for gravity to pull me back down to Willie. He's already sniffing at another car. I feel myself slowing and I feel that sinking feeling in my gut just as I slam into the WTWO Channel 2 News Team Action Chopper, or whatever the heck they call it. Surprised, the wind knocked out of me, I grip at the runners at the bottom of the chopper as it rocks back and forth in the air like a boat on troubled water. Frantically, I scramble to keep from falling. I know I'd survive the fall, but I really don't want to fall 60 feet. I hear gunshots down below, and I hear Willie barking. This is bad.
But at least now I have a plan.
I claw my way into the chopper and I'm greeted by a stunned pilot, some faceless field reporter I've never seen before and a cameraman.
Flustered, the reporter begins, "I-I-We-We've just been j-joined here in the chopper by, um, the, um, P-Punchernaut, and um --"
"Hey, shut up." I turn to the pilot and pull one side of his headset off. "Can you land this bird on top of the tavern?"
"You bet I can," and already, he's steering the copter that way. "I'm a big fan, by the way. They say you're a menace, but my kids love you."
"I get that a lot."
"So what's the plan now, Punchernaut?" The reporter shoves a microphone in my face.
"The plan now," I say as the helicopter delicately touches down on top of the tavern, "Is you shut up for a minute. And you," I point at the cameraman, "Keep that pointed at me. Mr. Pilot, kill the engine." He does and everybody piles out onto the roof of Old Towne.
"And what now?" the reporter asks. He's nervous.
"I told you to shut up." I pull the back rotor off the helicopter and drop it on the roof. It was spinning so fast it hurt my hand when I stopped it. That might leave a bruise. I snap my fingers at the cameraman. "Hey, Jethro. Point the camera at the dog."
He does as I tell him. "So what now?" he asks.
"I make you three stars." And with that, I grab the helicopter by the tail skid and leap off the roof, swinging it high above my head. Willie's got another car flipped over, and he's ripping the pipes and things out of the bottom fo it. Other officers are firing round after round, shouting, pleading with him. I think one of the guys up front might be crying. I can hear the officers inside the car screaming. Willie's shrugging the bullets off like they're nothing. I bend my knees and grit my teeth as I sail through the air, closing the distance, the tiny helicopter held over my shoulder like a club.
Willie flips his head back, tossing the axle of the car over the back of his head, just as I swing the helicopter and bust him across the nose with the bottom of the helicopter. The helicopter rips in half like a cardboard tube and pieces go flying every which direction. The blades on top break off and fly in different directions, one smashing into the building Willie smashed in earlier, two of them landing in the river, the fourth hitting the dirt at Willie's feet like a javeline. I land on my feet right next to it. I point an accusitory finger at Willie.
"NOO!!" I roar at him. "BAD!"
Willie recoils in horror and backs off.
"BACK INTO THE RIVER, WILLIE!" I point at the river and stamp my foot, glaring at him. He breaks eye contact and whimpers, reluctantly walking toward the river. I follow him, stamping my feet and puffing my chest up, making myself look bigger. I bark at him: "GET IN THERE NOW!"
Willie steps into the water and casts one look over his shoulder, as if apologizing. I cock my head at him and scowl. He looks away and slowly, tail between his legs, head down, he descends into the murky depths from wence he came.
I make my way back to the car Willie was just destroying and I pull the door open. Inside is a familiar face.
"Hey. You're one of the assholes who shot me last week!"
"I-I didn't me-mean anythi--"
I slam the door and then kick it, breaking the handle mechanism. "Better call the fire department to get him out of there," I say as I shove past the gaggle of cops who've come around to gawk at the destruction. I get past them and I crouch, then I take to the air.
I love flying.
I hate landing.
I bounce off the hood of my car and hit the sidewalk.
God I hate landing.
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