Chapter 1
The New Age has begun
Ok, when people wear a mask to the new super hero trend that has started out about a year ago it really did make a difference. People are going out in a costume like it was another casual wear and never feel embarrassed about it. It was a dream that came true to all nerds and geeks – to note, the word geek is an insult for me – who lived their lives behind the glossy covers of their graphic novels that being the super hero is flat-out impossible. So, I would ask you this question and you have got to be ready about it if you do.
"Do you want to be a superhero?"
By the way when I meant superhero, I meant wear a costume and actually fighting bad guys and not the usual shit that people wear tights for a fashion statement. If you do, you have to be ready because what this thing is really some serious shit.
When I first put on the costume, I was going like beat up bad guys, saving people from buildings or a cat from a tree, get with the ladies or something but there is one thing that I should have factored in or considered.
Right now I'm not fighting crime.
Right now I'm tied up to a fucking chair rigged to a contraption that will more or less burn me alive.
Right now there is a red and black caped asshole that I really want to beat the shit out.
Right now there are two super heroes who I really hope will save me, and that's not counting the police. I've read enough comic books and witnessed that there was always a mole in the NYPD.
Right now I have delved into a plot so twisted it involves the lives of the innocent, and me most importantly.
Right now I will face the consequences of being a super hero and if comic books taught us anything it's that when something really good happens, some crazier shit comes along to fuck with our minds.
I need a goddamn pizza after all of this.
I forgot to mention that when there are super heroes there was always be SUPER VILLAINS.
Ok I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's go back about nearly a year and a few months ago from today.
My name is Michael Zillar, 14 years old. If people say I'm smart, the only problem is that I don't over exert myself in academics, except if it's math or something. Like all typical nerds, I enjoy the utmost escapes from reality by hiding behind the pages of books – comics, novels, mangas, and so on. My friends aren't really into these sorts of things, that's because we each have our own interests.
To have a circle of friends at random is quite interesting; it gets you to look at each other's point of view. I'm the guy who enjoys comic books and other added interest, the one who only voice out his perceptions when needed. Timothy Roth is your basic tekkie who can charm the will of any lady without even trying. My best friend, Joey Lassater, is more of music and choreography, and secretly down-right gay. Lastly, the 3rd best student in our whole fucking school and a hard-core gamer, Carmela Pascal. Always laid back and casual. Reasons for her being with us bunch of misfits rather the more popular clicks, I will never know.
So the story begins like any story would begin, my own head shoved forcefully in a toilet bowl.
"So my lil' smart ass monkey. Do my homework for the next math class and I might let you live. Agreed?"
Didriche Donnahan, I will never put him in the ranks as one of my arch nemesis, and not even rival standards. Just another thug, whose existence is to basically make my life a living hell. That being when he was young was never loved by his parents, making him secretly a cocksucker who suppresses his urges by picking on other people.
"Is the derivative of a constant number equal to zero?" I asked which only made him shove my head in the bowl once again.
"Don't you forget it freak" he says, leaving me to spit out last of the piss infused water.
As I exit bathroom feeling crappy like usually but I can't help smiling at the derivative joke. Genius. Plain fucking genius.
"Hey what's – whoa! – you look like shit, minus the smell of course, 'cause you smell like piss." Says Carmela with a downright grin
"Died-rich" as if the word explained his whole condition.
"Oh, well your still alive right, nothing to worry about. He's just a douche." douche-! That would be like saying Scarlett Johanson was just cute, I should now that being an understatement from my pictures of her in my comp- you know what never mind "And why aren't we telling the teachers about this again?"
"Because we'll just be sprinkling water to the ocean that is Died-rich. So what if we tell on him, the teachers never really give a damn, he'll just come back for more and besides… his assaults are… bearable."
"Bearable? Bearable to shutting you up perhaps Mi-key. Ever taught of standing up for yourself?"
"Nah- it'll just waste my time"
Another 5 minutes of talking about the new god of war 3 game with Carmela made my mood a little lighter than before, that was until Joey showed up…
"What's up my bitches! Carmela, looking fine and HOT as ever. And how's my little Mi –"sniff" - shit dude you look like shit, minus the smell of course cause-"
"-I know I know, I smell like piss, so I've heard. Thank you for pointing that out Joey."
"Tell 'yah what." Carmela proposed, "If Major Dickwad comes after you again, look for me. I've always wanted to shove my fist so down someone's throat they'll poop where he'd eat and they'd eat where they'd poop."
"I'll keep that in mind," making a mental note to never cross this crazy bitch ever and to buy a laxative on the way home, "but for now I'll handle my problems on my own." Mike sighed.
"Like taking on Died-rich?" Joey said while obviously trying not to laugh… and failing to do so, "like that will ever happen."
It's really hard not smirk at that me taking on him is totally possible.
See when I was little my parents use to place me in all kinds of activities over the summer. They enrolled me at swimming classes, artwork shops, and all kinds. There was one time when they made me learn taekwondo. It didn't really last long, but the punching bag in my room that my dad installed for me still hanging. So without any help and the only given references was from Tekken games that I borrowed from Carmela (yeah we go way back like kindergarten back, back when she to used kick my a- you know what never mind) and my dad's collection of kung-fu videos since i-don't-know-what-dinosaur-era, I started my own intensive, hell training of my own. The idea was to balance my whole body to avoid suspicion that I've been working out, not that I knew that when I was 6 years old. When I get home I make i-don't-know-how-many-punches, something-something-something-that-many kicks that I have to drown myself in my own sweat. I trained my reflexes by using my mom's thingamajig tennis ball launcher, sometimes either trying to punch away or dodging them. All after my homework and stuff of course, my mom would freak if I even missed one.
Again, I don't really over exert my capabilities only when it's really, really important. But, if you were to ask me right now, if you so-ever fuck with my family and friends, you don't know deep shit until you've tasted my homemade kind.
But alas, I should probably just get it over with, Right? I mean he's not the only asshole out there. There are probably more in the whole city, the whole country, the whole goddamn world for Christ sake. Out there are the real capital one a-holes who would take someone's life to save their own, who would rip families lives apart just to earn a decent buck. Compared to others, Died-rich is a little care bear willing to hug anyone who passes by.
I sighed as me, Carmela, and Joey walked out of the school entrance of Brown. We passed by the nearest mall to get some ice cream… and for Joey's suggestion some Lysol to cover my smell.
While the two were looking at perfume, I immediately check… well some other things like movie screenings, the nearest toy store, and the clock to see how much time left so that I can pass by the comic book store or the nearest bookstore.
We ate ice cream and discuss our nonexistent and existing plans of the future. While eating, We spotted the one of the usual customers of the Atomic city comic book store, Thomas… you know what for the sake of the argument just Thomas for now. Anyway, Thomas was looking grim as he held up an ice pack to his bruised jaw line. Died-rich strikes again.
"I'm telling you I can take that dick-wad on!" exclaimed Carmela.
" Your Taebo-slash-karate ways are amateurish" I reasoned, "you were only able to pass our P.E. classes because of your endurance, yet you and sports will perhaps never go together, if you count out your Madden NFL 2010 and Fifa 2010, Quidditch and Chess-"
"Oho, like you know Mr. expert-?"
"Speaking of sports," said Joey, "has Coach Jones cornered you to talk about sex ed-"
Carmela quickly replied "No we haven't talked to the 290 lbs., ever grouchy – "
"-shorts-always-shrunk-in-the-wash-" I added.
"-and questionably crazy P.E. Teacher."
"Good because Timothy is trying to keep it a secret" Joey said with an evil smirk.
We laughed our asses off after that, and I didn't even check the time to get to Atomic City. We went our separate ways as both of them took the bus leaving me to walk home.
My mom and dad were taking an anniversary honeymoon to the country leaving me with my grandparents. I don't mind them going off, it was bound to happen, all the pressures at work, and it's either this or dad has to stay in the couch for – How long you ask? I'll ask you the time right now and say he has nine hundred, ninety nine years to go. At least my grandparents aren't working stiffs and only serious when needed.
I did my usual routine, kicking the shit out of a punching bag (better tell dad that we need to replace the chains attached to it before it breaks), and did my homework, and random vocational activities.
We ate our usual meal while my grandparents watched television; I, on the other hand, sticked to reading the new Spider-Man issue while I ate.
As I was about to stand up from the table a new report suddenly flashed on the screen of our TV. The title was something unusual these days so I sat y ass back down never knowing that this news will change my life FOREVER.
REAL LIFE SUPER HERO
As soon as I saw this title, I immediately went to skeptical mode. Another fluff piece on a guy who returned $2000.00 worth of cash to the authorities or a working stiff finally found a lost girl's mommy or so I thought. Because in reality the super is just the morality of good conscience and heroes are just people trying to do the right thing, and let life keep going.
Nothing of that sort showed up on the screen.
For me, the word "super" is dead. From getting bitten by a radioactive spider, to a high grade military experiment gone completely AWOL, or the last refugee alien from a distant planet just forget it. None of that random stuff ever happens… But I couldn't be more wrong.
The news showed a guy dressed up in a green wetsuit with yellow stripes wielding two batons beating the shit out of the Puerto Ricans to defend their latest victim. "A real life superhero?" I mentally screamed, "Why hadn't I thought of this before!"
The video zoomed in as the guy fell down as he got hit by a trash bin but the guy just kept coming back up. He was no Juggernaut, but fuck dude I would be dead by now from all those kicks and punches. He eventually makes them back off until one decides to pull a knife. It's hard to hear what the thug says because of the glass and the next thing you know the super hero dude starts shouting at them.
"AND THREE ASSHOLES" stopping to catch his breath, "–LAYING INTO ONE GUY WHILE EVERYBODY ELSE WATCHES!"
The three turn their backs to look at the people watching them.
"AND YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?" the guy screams, glaring at them.
"YEAH I'D RATHER DIE!" catching his breath for the last time, "-SO BRING IT ON!"
It was like seeing Spider-Man for the first time telling Green Goblin to back off or Superman glaring down robbers to never harm his metropolis. The camera moved to going outside to close up on our fuck-crazy-good-Samaritan. The quality of the video was good enough to hear the whisper of the man thanking the superhero while the guy who took the shot asks the all important question "Who are you?"
After a long pause he replies "I'm Kick-Ass!"
…
"Well that was something. Eh, kiddo?" Grandpa says breaking my train of thought.
"That man's going to get himself killed" said Grandma to herself.
"Kids nowadays" said Grandpa while shaking his head "they should be doing something conservative nowadays like studying or that Guitar God 5 game your friend keeps talks about. That's the point of giving you a laptop right?"
Yeah, other than downloading movies and searching porn.
I went up to my room gazing at the wall for a minute or so. I never thought the idea of being a superhero was possible but there it was, as bright as day. If someone had the balls to really pull this kind of stunt...
So, why couldn't I?
After that, it was all a blur. I pulled out a sketch pad to design a costume. I wrote down a list of gadgets I should have when I walk out into the streets, I thought of color schemes, catch phrases, and all more importantly, a name. I looked at the plans if I ever become a costumed vigilante. The mask was a sphere with a horizontal slot for the eyes. The clothes consisted of a red nylon jacket with a black shirt underneath, and black stretchable jeans. The jacket had a breast plate underneath and a belt that covered the stomach. But I needed gloves and armguards, shin guards and shoulder pads.
"It's almost perfect, with my advance fighting skills and all" I chuckled.
"So what's holding me back?" I asked myself. "It's awesome to dream about this sort of things and to actually do it. It's just that… when it gets down to it… death… your ass is on the line…"
Despite knowing how to punch and kick above advance standards that even a black belter would be proud of isn't really enough to say I'm ready.
Any other reason to do this was just on plain boredom or vanity. People like me should be thinking about future goals on what do I do once we finished college, then there's work and family and death. There will be a time when I will be stuck at work in my miserable life doing nothing relatively different to make life interesting. And I want my life to be exciting.
I surf Youtube to replay the kick-ass footage. Seeing it again gave me all more reason to not to do something like this.
"I should have a trial" I thought, "I want something that will make me dare to do any of this. Something daring…"
Ok, it's really stupid but I promised to myself that with it there was no going back:
"If I win this, I will do the vigilante shit, with the costume/uniform and everything. And if not, well I get my ass kicked, and think about damn delusions behind me."
So it was settled, tomorrow I was going to fight Died-rich.
Written by: darcman44
Edited by: WikflameX
Editors Note:
Hello fanfic people waves PEOPLE WHO GIVE COMMENTS WILL BE MUCH APPRECIATED AND WILL BE GIVEN COOKIES, while FLAMES WILL BE USED TO SET FIRE TO THEIR OWN HAIR
it took me about a week to edit this 'cauz I was bored and my brother "words" needed improving BLAH BLAH stares profoundly at darcman44 anyways don't bother searching my stories they're all so completely random that you seriously wouldn't believe that I edited this. I am the younger brother of darcman44 yes YOUNGER and I edit his fics… -_-*yawn*
P.S. I am currently 15
Authors Note:
This is my first and hopefully not the last fic. As anyone who tries to write something like this is out of boredom and sheer inspiration (sane is to insanity while inspiration is to addiction). I made him editor so that I can annihilate his remaining childhood, because I can. The title bears the original Vigilante or hero, cross out the letter "e" and the word "or" in the middle, you will get the ff. So for now read and enjoy.