TOONSTER9's QUOTE: It's been a while huh? Life is hard but I really want to apologize for my absent. Anyway I'm gonna give this story one more chance before deciding to delete it. Hopefully I get positive reviews or notes SO I CAN CONTINUE! Enjoy.
CHAPTER 2: Mysterious Vigilante
Inside a Warehouse, Night:
A low-life criminal name Tre Fernandez (30's, unlikely to join his local neighborhood watch scheme any time soon) is tied to a chair, his fingers in a pair of heavy-duty Bolt-Cutters held by a Huge Goon. Several other goons surround him- let's call them Hush, Scar, Sporty, Ray and Posh.
And there's Chris McClain D'Amico (40's, handsome, tall, lean, immaculately dressed man) and his right-hand man, Alejandro. By the looks of Chris' better-expensive suit, he's in charge. The type of guy who runs the business and no one can fuck with it. The boss of all criminals that are wrecking the city of New York. Tre is terrified to look into Chris' cold eyes. He is perturbed by his capricious behavior.
"McClain...Chris, I'm telling you, man. I swear I'm not making this up. This fucking guy... Comes outta nowhere-" Tre tries to explain but Chris cuts in.
"This would be the guy who looks like Batman." Chris guessed, mordantly. Tre got flabbergasted and annoyed by his response. He shakes his head in disagreement.
"I didn't say he looked like Batman." Tre argued, irritated. All the Goons rolled their eyes, not believing his words. Chris lights up a cigarette in his mouth with his zippo lighter. Everyone studies him.
"You did, you said the guy looked like Batman." Huge Goon feigned
"He said, like, a black mask and stuff." Another Goon said.
"And a cape." Huge Goon added. Alejandro stares at Tre with an amused smirk.
"Like Batman." Alejandro said. Tre rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration.
"I didn't say 'like Batman.' I never said 'Batman'." Tre groans, vexed. Chris waves off the annoying remark.
"So this guy, he comes in, outta nowhere." Chris brings back the subject, imperturbably. Tre nodded with a beat expression.
"Right. Outta nowhere. Beat us up real bad." Tre explained, feeling perilous.
"And this is who killed Johnny..." Chris continues. Tre nodded, relief that Chris understands.
"Right. And my two guys." Tre added. Chris shoots him a unruffled look.
"...And jacked my coke?" Chris ended, wondering. Tre gaped at him for a few seconds and looks down at the floor, starting to sweat. Chris puffs out a ball of smoke as he waits for his answer.
"Well...um...he didn't exactly jack it." Tre stammered, hesitatingly. Everyone in the room quirks an eyebrow and exchange a look to each other, all wondering what he meant by that.
Flashback...
Inside a Scuzzy 2nd Floor Apartment, Night:
A hyper-stylized fantasy past. Tre lies on the floor with gusher of a nosebleed, clutching a Bag of Cocaine. Two dead Cronies lie nearby with their dead eyes opened. The last man standing is Johnnie (clearly the muscle).
Tre watches in dismay as the even-bigger Superhero steps behind Johnnie and SLICED! his throat with a hunting knife. Blood squirts out of his neck like a sprinkler from your backyard. He drops to the ground, obviously dead.
The vicious Superhero turns to Tre, who throws the bag of cocaine into his face, bolts for the open window and jumps out, head first. The masked man, his black costume now covered in coke, watches out the window as Tre limps away for his life. The masked man rolled his eyes and brushes the coke off of him with his hands.
Back To The Present...
Chris fixes Tre with an impassive look. Alejandro snickers at the story while others chuckle. Chris turns to them, which made all the goons stop laughing. Chris slowly turns back to Tre, giving him the look of a serial killer.
"And this guy...This guy who killed everyone else, he doesn't bother to follow you. Because?" Chris asked, amazed that the vigilante spared his life. Tre shoots him a clueless look and shrugged his shoulders.
"Because, I don't know. I swear Chris, I'm just telling you what happened." Tre explained with a gulp. Chris runs a hand through his hair and gives a sigh, getting frustrated.
"Okay. Let me explain the problem I got here, Tre. Our mole with the Russians tells it a bit different." Chris begins, which made Tre inquisitively listen.
Another Flashback...
Inside a Swanky Apartment, Night:
Yep, another stylized fantasy past. A Tall Russian shows Tre a briefcase full of cash. a group of Russian Hoods look on. Tre smirks, nods his approval and the tall Russian clicks the case shut and hands it over, in exchange for a large bag of coke. This proves that he's completely making a deal with the enemy...case closed.
Back to the Present...Again
Chris finished his story which we tight on Tre's reaction. This was a predicament situation between different stories. And everyone in the building knows that Chris is right. They think that Tre is playing lying to them and it didn't work.
"You're kidding me?" Tre muttered, angrily and disbelief. Chris glares at him and points at the bolt cutters.
"Does it look to you like I'm kidding?" Chris hissed, holding the urge to tell the Goon to cut the finger already. Alejandro gives devastated grin at Tre, pleased that he's in big trouble.
"Our guys said you gave them Russians a pretty sweet deal." Alejandro added, smoothly. Tre angrily groans for their point of view, but deep down, he knows he's busted.
"It's a fucking lie, man! I can't believe you believe this shit from a fucking Russian, man!" Tre agrued, panting. Chris waves off his complaining and stares at him serious.
"Let's see, Tre. What's more likely? You're a little greedy little backstabber, or my coke is missing because it wound up all over Superman's face." Chris snarled, making a point. Alejandro clears his throat, getting Chris' attention.
"Ahem, um, it's Batman." Alejandro corrected. Chris turns to him with a questioning look.
"What?" Chris asked, misheard.
"Batman's face." Huge Goon answered, which made Tre shoot angry daggers at everyone in the room.
"I never said Batman!" Tre angrily shouts. Chris narrowed his eyes and rubs his temples with his hands. He angrily drops his cigarette to the floor and ground it out with the sole of his expensive dressed shoe.
"Okay, enough! My son's in the car, waiting to go to the movies and I ain't gonna disappoint him. Alejandro, you're in charge." Chris said, snapping his fingers as he turns to go.
Alejandro nodded with a evil grin. He gestures the Goon to do his work. The Huge Goon SNIPS! the bolt-cutters closed, cutting the finger off of Tre's. He screams as he feels the agonizing pain.
Outside the Warehouse, we can still hear the distant screams as Chris, shadowed by Chef, climbs into the back of the waiting Merc vehicle. He gets in besides his son, Noah, who looks bored as hell. Chef sits in the front. Chris turns to his son and gives a sheepishly smile.
"Sorry you had to wait, buddy." Chris said, sounding less than caring. Noah rolled his eyes and shoots him a repulsive expression.
"I coulda waited inside. I'm sick of being treated like a kid." Noah muttered, abhorrently. Chris glowers at him, not in the mood to hear his complaints.
"We're not having this conversation again, Noah. Where's the driver?" Chris asked, wondering why the ignition isn't starting.
"Restroom." Chef answered, which made Chris scoff in annoyance.
"The movie's starting in, like, 10 mintues." Noah complained, impatiently. They can still hear screaming coming from inside the warehouse, studiously ignored by everyone in the car. Chris stares down at his golden Rolex Watch that is strapped to his wrist.
"We're cool. It's okay. We're only gonna miss the trailers." Chris assured, brightening things up. Noah pursed his lips and stares at his father with narrow eyes.
"Yeah, but I wanted to, you know, get popcorn." Noah said, stubbornly. Chris couldn't take his son's whining, so he turns to his bodyguard, Chef.
"When we get there, get Noah some popcorn and nachos, okay? And bring it in. What do you wanna drink, Pepsi? " Chris asked as he turns back his son. Noah nods grudgingly, looking out the window instead of his father. Chris ignores his behavior and turns back to Chef. The screaming continues, escalates.
"You got it, boss." Chef accorded with a nod.
"And I'll have an Icee. Mixed. Like, when they mix the red one and the blue one? Mixed." Chris said, thinking of another thing to order. The driver gets in and turns the ignition on. BANG! BANG! From inside the warehouse, they hear two gunshots which made the scream end. Everyone but Chris flinches at the sound. Nobody mentions it. Everyone acted like nothing happened. They drive away from the warehouse.
"...And a pack of Skittles." Chris added, with a smile.
Taste The Rainbow...
Outside The Movie Theatre, Night:
The limo pulls up outside the theatre. Chris, Noah and Chef stepped out of the vehicle and walk towards the movies. A few people line up for tickets as a huge tide of others flood out. Among them, an elated Cody, Harold and Ezekiel are talking excitedly about the movie they've just seen.
'The comic-book had it wrong. It didn't take a trauma, or cosmic rays or a power ring to make a superhero.'
You Got Mail...
Inside Cody's House, Bedroom, Same Night:
Cody enters his room and pauses as he sees a package on his bed. He smiles at his arrived UPS package. He undresses quick and excitedly. In his underpants, he really looks like just a little kid. He opens the package and pulls out: a Wet-Suit and a Ski Mask.
He tries to pull them on, despite of them being all tight. He trips on the floor as he struggles to zip up his costume. He gets up, puts on his mask and looks in the mirror. He place his fists on his hips and stands there for a while. Cody grins at himself, having the feeling of reverential mixed with amazement or wonder.
"You are fucking awesome." Cody said to himself, in awe. He strikes a superhero pose, throws a few terrible martial arts moves. He's really enjoying himself right on this moment. He smirks at himself in the mirror and throws a kiss.
'...Just the perfect combination of optimism and naivety.'
The Next Day...
Around the Industrial Wasteland, Morning:
Meet Courtney Hills, 20's, curved tan body. She wears a cutoff jeans to show off her slender legs. A white halter top with a paddle jacket and a intense frown on her face. She crosses her arms and shoots out an angry huff.
"I don't want to do this, Duncan." Courtney said in the millionth times, not looking at him. Her husband, she calls Duncan, 30's, is big and ripped and has a killer green neon Mohawk. He wears a black leather jacket, leather riding pants, and heavy clean boots. He looks bad-ass. But he speaks softly to his stubborn wife.
"C'mon Courtney, honey. You should get used to this already. Nothin' to be afraid of." Duncan assured. Courtney looks back to take in Duncan's full towering height. In his hand is a Colt 1911 Pistol. He loads the magazine clip as he looks at her, sweetly. Courtney rolled her eyes and pushes a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.
"Is not that I'm afraid...I just hate when it hurts." Courtney complained. Duncan sighed and decided to off her pout.
"Only for a second, babe. We both know that a handgun bullet goes more than 700 miles an hour, so at close range like this, the force is gonna take you right off your feet, for sure. But it's really no more painful than a punch in the boob. Okay?" Duncan asked, fitting the fresh magazine clip into the pistol. Courtney gulped and shook her head.
"No! I hate getting punched in the boob!" Courtney spat, stomping a foot down in anger. Duncan releases the slide of the gun, takes the safety off and aims it at her.
"You'll be fine, princess." Duncan added. Before Courtney can protest, he fires off a round. BANG! The bullet hits her square in the chest. She flies through the air, landing on her back a couple of feet, giving a quick yelp. Duncan walks up to her and blows the smoke off his barrel.
"Not so bad, huh?" Duncan asked, looking down at her.
"Says you." Courtney grunted. She sits up stiffly and shrugs at him with a annoyed glare on her face. Then she unzips her jackets and lift up her halter top to study the Kevlar Vest underneath. She pokes her finger into the little dent left by the bullet, .
"Now you know that it feels like a punch, you won't be scared when some junkie asshole pulls a glock." Duncan pointed out. Courtney would've keep her glare if she weren't too proud for taking a bullet.
"I wouldn't have been scared anyway." Courtney responded, still poking the dent. Duncan guffaws softly, helping her get on her feet.
"That's my girl." Duncan commented, as he moved closer to her pulling her in for a kiss which she lovingly accepted. The way we see it, they seem like a happy couple...a couple that likes to shoot each other for practice if I can add. Duncan finally pulled away and smirks at her.
"Couple more rounds, then we go to brunch." Duncan demanded, walking back to his spot from earlier. Courtney's face drops into a shock expression.
"Again?" Courtney asked, off-guard. Duncan turns to face her and nodded as he pulls the hammer down.
"Uh-huh." Duncan hummed out, gripping the handle. Courtney frowned and sighed in defeat.
"Look, only if you let me choose a restaurant. Like the River Cafe." Courtney negotiated, crossing her arms. Duncan blinks a few times before responding.
"The one in Brooklyn?" Duncan asked, now realizing that she wants an expensive brunch. Courtney nodded with a smirk, noticing the look on her husband's face.
"Yeah. And ice cream for dessert." Courtney added. Duncan taps a finger on his chin in thought.
"Hmm. Okay. Two more rounds. No wincing, no whining and you got yourself a deal, babe." Duncan said, giving her a smile of acceptance. She jumps in excitement, arms outstretched.
"Yes! I'm gonna get a chocolate fudge sundae." Courtney acclaimed, happily. Duncan chuckles and leveled the the pistol at her again.
"Good call, baby doll!" Duncan added as he cracks off another round. BAM!
What The...?
Inside Cody's House, Bedroom, Same Morning:
Cody, wearing his costume, slips up his jeans and puts on a long-sleeved tee over the top. He looks at himself into the mirror, grabs his backpack, slung it over his shoulder and leaves the room.
'A genuine thrill was wearing it under my school clothes.'
Later, Inside The Classroom:
It was just another school day day in class where the teacher, Mrs. Zane had stepped out for a few minutes giving her students instructions to study for the upcoming quiz. She writes the instructions on her whiteboard, but Cody isn't watching. He's writes in his book, fingering the collar of his costume under his shirt, a sly smile playing on his lips.
'I know it's an ancient superhero tradition, but you can't appreciate how exciting it is until you've sat through a English class smirking at your own slyness.'
In Cody's notebook are several heroic doodles of himself in costume, and some hero names: Night Walker, Bad Night, Dark Watcher, Ass-Kicker, Bad Ass, The Green Knight. Then he writes down: Kick-Ass. Then a bunch of question marks. He taps his pencil on his chin in thought, not sure if the name suits him.
'Times like this were spent coming up with cool superhero names and, for a short while, this was enough.'
Later in the Highschool Gym, Cody pumps iron with 6 and half weights. He does a few pumps and he's already sweating like a pig. He drops the irons and breaths heavily. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and catches sight of his reflection in it's tiny surface. He poses, flexing his still-tiny pecs. All the buff guys roll their eyes for having a skinny little nerd in the gym.
'If my friends wondered what the fuck was going on with me, they never mentioned it.'
Meanwhile...
Inside the River Cafe, Brooklyn, Still Morning:
Courtney is there with Duncan, scoffing a small core sundae. Fudge sauce drips onto her dinner napkin that is tucked into her collar. She looks down to make sure it didn't go to her shirt and notices the five bullet holes.
"Duncan, look." Courtney called, pointing at the bullet holes. Duncan looks up from his plate and stares at the holes in amazement. He wipes his mouth with his napkin.
"I know, I see it. Good job! Hey, you had any more thoughts on what you want for protection?" Duncan asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Courtney ponders as she stuffs a spoon full of ice cream into her mouth.
"Mmmm. Can I get a puppy?" Courtney answered, casually. Duncan almost choked on his coffee, surprised for what his wife responded. He gaped at her with wide eyes for a few seconds, studying her to see if she's serious.
"A...puppy? Like, a d-dog?" Duncan stammered, having a hard time to keep a straight face. Courtney nodded, licking the ice cream off her lips.
"Yeah. A cuddly little Golden Retriever. They can be very protective. Oh and you have to clean after it." Courtney added, looking him with a serious expression. Duncan was speechless. He looks like he's about to have a seizure. Courtney couldn't hold the urge anymore. She practically spits ice cream everywhere as she bursts into giggles. Duncan arched an eyebrow, having a small realization that it's all a joke.
"I'm just fucking with you, Dunky. Look, I'd love a Benchmade model-42 butterfly knife. That's something I can carry with me whenever I need it." Courtney pointed out, wiping the tear of laughter off her eye. Duncan joins in the laughter, relieved that it was all a prank from her after all.
"Jesus, Courtney. You really got me, heh. Good weapon of choice though." Duncan commented, impressed that his woman can make him off-guard. They continue to enjoy eating their brunch. A waitress comes by, pouring him some more coffee. The couple thanked her as she turns to leave.
A Few Weeks Later...
Somewhere In The City Rooftops, Day:
Cody, in his costume, carefully treads to the edge of the roof and looks down. A numerous filthy trash bags and unwrapped garbage gathered on the alleyway below. But that wasn't what he was seeing...it's the height. Not that he's afraid of heights, he just doesn't want to fall down and cause mildly injury...or death.
'I'll be honest, there wasn't a whole lotta crime fighting in those few weeks. But even so my new vocation kept me plenty busy.'
He reaches the corner and looks across to the next rooftop. He glances down one more time into the narrow alleyway separating the two rooftops. He's tries to measure the distances with his two thumbs.
Later, he's now in the alley he looked down into before. Cody checks his surroundings, just to make sure he's not being watched, then he runs a tape measure between the brick walls. He puts the tape measure away and glance upwards to the roof of the two buildings. He sighs and started searching for any materials to test his activity.
Later, back on the rooftop from where he was earlier, Cody placed two pieces of wood that distance apart. He takes a moment to regain his energy. Cody cracks his neck and stretches every bit of his body.
'Like there was a lot of posing on the roof and balancing on walls as I got used to the wet suit.'
By the looks of how he stretches, I don't think he ever took to his P.E classes. Cody was set and prepares to start his training. He quickly gages distances, and then runs up to the first, making a not-so-spectacular leap...lands nowhere near the second. He drops his shoulders in disappointment.
"...Shit." Cody muttered, going back to his spot.
'I called it preparation.'
Cody, back at hit long-jump, makes several more unsuccessful attempts before he finally lands clear of his target. Time passes. Close on his feet as we see his subsequent landings past the second piece of timber, getting further and further away. Cody sigh, moves the timber pieces aside and walks back to his spot again. He turns and takes a deep breath.
'But if you called it fantasizing, it woulda been hard to argue. All I knew was I'd never felt so good about myself.'
Finally, he takes a run up and he is now going for the real thing. He runs faster and faster, giving it all the speed he's got. He reaches the edge of the roof, he's going to do it!...Oh wait. He brakes and stops, exclaiming in fear. Almost falling off the edge, he falls back, holding his balance.
"Fuck this!" Cody panted, taking a step back away from the edge.
'Okay, maybe I was still in the beta-testing phase, but it was a start.'
One Hour Later...
Somewhere in a Dodgy Street, Still Day:
At a junction, Cody wheels his bike beside Harold and Ezekiel, all carrying bags from the comic store. They all chat up while they ride. This is where they part company. Cody mounts up, waves goodbye to his nerdy friends and rides off to his separate way.
He rides on, down the same shitty street he's been earlier. Then he brakes to a stop, bike-wheels screeching the ground. He froze to a full hesitation. He's sees a parking lot nearby, two boys skulk by an older model vehicle. The guys who mugged Cody and Ezekiel.
They made sure no-one's watching. One pulls out a screwdriver, kneels down and expertly unscrews the license plates. He looks up and catches Cody staring at them. The other follow his friend's gaze and glares at the intruder.
Cody quickly looks away and starts pedaling again with his head down, showing them that he didn't see anything. But his speed gradually slows until, at the next alleyway, he stops with a pondering look on his face.
'Like every serial killer already knew, eventually fantasizing just doesn't do it for you anymore. It was time to engage.'
In the back alley, Cody chains his bike to a fire-escape and walks back where the muggers are. He tears open his shirt, revealing his green costume underneath. Feeling just like Clark Kent in a phone booth. This. Is. It.
Back to the parking lot, the midday sun beats down on a maze of cars. The first gang kid has his screwdriver wedged under the window rubber and is prying it off while his friend loiters nearby, smoking a joint and keeping a lookout.
"Hurry up, dude." The second gang kid said, impatiently. He turns and pauses, utterly bewildered, at the sight of a green masked figure: Cody. He frowns in confusion, looking at the costume he's wearing.
"What...the...hell?" The second gang kid muttered, which caught his friend's attention to witness the same view. Cody is walking towards them in his full, costumed splendor. The second gang kid burst into laughter, hysterically. The other gang kid shakes his head in disgust.
"The fuck are you looking at?" The first gang kid spat. Cody hesitated again, stopping at his own track. They start to walk towards him, shooting him with cold eyes. Cody tries to steady his balance, seeming to be swayed in jittery. The first gang kid was waiting for his response.
"I said what are you looking at?" The first gang asked again, irritated. Cody shakes off his nervous-scared-side into self-dignity and nonchalant mode. He exhales and continues walking towards the two gang members with a casual expression.
"Two cheapshit losers screwing with a car that somebody probably worked their ass off to pay for." Cody retorted, fearlessly. Two of the gang kids exchanged odd looks to each other before turning back to the masked creep.
"Say what?" The first gang kid snarled, with a hint of anger and confusion in his tone. The second gang kid shook his head and taps his friend on the shoulder to get his attention. He looks over his shoulder.
"Let it be, man. This kid is obviously high." The second kid explained, finding it odd to see a skinny boy in a costume making his moment in hazard. Cody stops at his track, inches away from them. They stand a foot taller than him.
"I'm not high. I just think it suck balls that you think you can do whatever you want. Walk away from the car...and we won't have a problem." Cody said calmly but also menacingly. The gang kids shared an confused look before they could respond. Then without warning, the first gang kid steps up and PUNCHES! Cody in the face.
He reels from the pain. But now they see that, behind his back, he has a piece of lead pipe for a weapon. Cody glares and swings his lead pipe to one of them. He CRACKS! it over the first kid's head.
The gang kid groans in pain and goes down, the screwdriver flying from his hand. Cody stands there in a beat, amazed that he fought back. Then the second gang kid sets on Cody, giving him a cheap shot. The pipe gives Cody an initial advantage. He tries to maintain his balance and coldcocks the second kid with one hard PUNCH!. Taking the surprise hit, he goes down to the ground.
Cody stares down at him, oblivious that the first gang kid is up again. He comes up from behind Cody and surprisingly punched him in the face. Cody falls down to the ground, moaning in pain. The second gets up, rubbing his aching cheek.
"Screw this, man! Let's beat the crap out of him!" The first gang kid growl, angrily. They both end up giving him a gang beating of two against one, followed by a barrage of deadly fists and kicks to his knees and ribs. From a far distance they hear the sound of police sirens coming their way which caught their attention. Then in fear of being thrown behind bars, they quickly decided to disperse.
"Come on, let's go." The second gang kids said, trying to drag his friend. But the first gang kid gives Cody one last hard KICK! to the ribs before rushing off with his buddy. They bailed, leaving a mess of poor superboy picking himself up.
Cody coughed painfully as he tried to stand on his feet but he failed. He gets up again with more force, spitting out the red liquid of blood out of his mouth with a grimace. He's weak, damaged and exhausted.
He picks up his lead pipe and staggers off the parking lot, breathing heavily. He stumbles into the road as a car approaches. The green suited hero tries to flag it, but the alarmed female driver accelerated past him, staring at him oddly as she drives off. Cody turns in disbelief to watch the car disappear into the distance...failing to see a second car speed towards him. CRASH!
It ploughs into him, sending him flying like rag-doll. He drops to the ground hard. The car slows and a terrified businessman stares out to see who he ran over. He sees Cody in a pool of blood, not dead but fucked up. He's out cold, his legs and pelvis are grotesquely twisted, his costume covered in blood.
The driver is in serious shit, picturing himself in prison surrounded by hardcore convicts. He looks around his surroundings, seeing if there are any witnesses...nope. In a panic, the businessman speeds away, leaving poor Cody to die on the ground. Hit and Run...messed up.
A few minutes later, inside an ambulance the sirens are wailing. A medic is cutting off Cody's costume. The medic shouts up to the driver.
"Back and responsive! Easy, pal. Take it easy. Don't try to move." The medic told Cody, softly. He's in a neck brace, an oxygen mask on his face. Cody breaths slowly before he could force himself to respond.
"My d-dad is gonna k-kill me." Cody stammered in agony. The medic sticks IVs into his arm and patted him on the leg for comfort.
"He's gonna be happy you're alive." The Medic pointed out with a smile. Cody shakes his head, trying to stay conscious for a little while before passing out.
"I n-need a favor. Please? Don't tell a-anybody about the costume?" Cody begged, wincing at the IVs in his arm. The Medic nodded with smile of promise.
"You got it." The Medic responded. He deposits the shredded costume in the medical waste receptacle. Cody smiles with relief. Then his eyes roll back, drifting off to unconscious. The Medic notices and turns to the driver.
"We're losing him again." He shouted, grabbing the heart paddles.