Sports Masters

A funny thing happened to me in Nevada.

Why was I in Nevada you ask? Well, funny story. Let's just say I needed a break from New York. Y'know, ninjas named after cheese graters, pink aliens, green aliens (alright, turtles), and clans named after body parts.

Nice, safe, boring Nevada. Other side of the country. Known for…actually, I'm not sure what Nevada is known for. Area 51? Funny you should ask, if you manage to enter that base, ask the staff about the kraang. They…well, that's a totally different story. Maybe I'll tell you someday.

Point is, I'm in Nevada, in a town called Blue Valley. A town that isn't particularly blue, nor in a valley, but then, I'm usually in the company of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, who have actually been adults for awhile. Who are still being trained by a rat. Oh, and my wife's a news reporter, and we've kind of gone on again, off-again…well, you know how it goes.

Like I said, Nevada. Nice Nevada. Quiet Nevada. Town Nevada, where I, Casey Jones, superhero who's not such a wimp that he uses his real name, thank you very much, is sitting in a restaurant, waiting to be served.

"What can I get you handsome?"

I smile at the waitress, and I tell her that I want anything other than pizza.

"Pasta?"

Anything but pizza, or pasta, I correct.

"Steak?"

"Stakes? What stakes? I…oh. Steak. Yeah, steak's fine. Medium rare."

Would it surprise you to know that I'm sick of pizza? Shocking, right? Things came to a head when the turtles teamed up with Batman (long story), and this overgrown grey guy (long story), hit me into a pizza joint owned by a pair of Italian plumbers (very long story), and…well, let's just say I don't like pizza anymore.

Or pasta.

"Here you go, handsome."

Or mushrooms.

Who has steak with mushrooms? I look at the menu and scowl. Mushrooms. Gravy. Bleh.

"You alright?"

I look at her. Bit old. Not too old. But old. Kind of a reminder of where I'm headed.

"Course I'm alright," I smile, as I pat the duffel bag next to me. "I'm Casey Jones."

"Casey? Isn't that a girl's name?"

"No, it is not a girl's name, and besides, how many other Casey Joneses do you know?"

She stares at me.

"Casey Jones," I repeat. "The one and only? Hero of New York?"

She shrugs, and begins to walk away.

"Ally to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?"

"Oh, those guys? You know them?"

My first inclination is to say yes. But then I realize that while she's heard of those guys, she hasn't heard of me.

"Only through the tabloids."

And that's no fun.

"Oh. Well, see ya."

Fun, I reflect, as I look at my steak. Remember that, Casey? The good ol' days?

Actually, those days aren't too far behind me, but when you get into a live triangle with a reporter and bi-pedal turtle named after some Italian bozo, things get complicated. And, I reflect, as I take a bite, they stay complicated. Like, kicked out of the apartment, "I need space" complicated.

Marriage. It's a team effort.

But sure, space. I gave April space. I gave her so much space I've come to the other side of the country. I go any further, I'd end up in the Pacific, or worse, California. But…well, you're not interested in that, are you? You want to know what happened to me in Nevada. Well calm down sport, I'm getting there. You need context for a story like this.

So, I'm halfway through my steak (without having touched the mushrooms, in case you're wondering), when the stakes are raised, and something happens that makes me fear I'm going to be dead meat. What happens specifically?

An explosion. Followed by more explosions. And screams. And shattering glass. And me diving for cover, wondering if I have to pay for this steak if explosions have ruined it. Call me selfish, but steak costs a lot, and I don't have it much. I…actually don't have much, period, so if you want to toss me a dime after reading this, I'd appreciate it.

Anyway, people are screaming, but being used to this kind of stuff, I get to my feet, look out at the street, and utter "holy shit." Naughty words, I know, but I don't have kids, and probably never will. But…okay, I'll just describe it.

Two teams. In one corner, we have:

A: Girl clad in blue, wielding a golden hockey stick.

B: Girl dressed in black, like a cat, who isn't Catwoman, yet is totally Catwoman.

C: Guy wearing yellow hoodie with an hourglass around his neck, that has no pirate ship inside. Loser.

D: Girl wearing green goggles who doesn't seem to be doing much.

Weird, huh? And I say that as someone who's fought alongside green turtles against rhinos, warthogs, flies, and dinosaurs. Oh, and people dressed up like bats. Not saying that Batman isn't kooky, but, well, let's just say he's a few rodents short of a belfry.

And in the other corner, we have:

A: Ninja girl with blades coming out of her wrists. Right up my alley, really.

B: Guy playing the violin (why?) firing waves of air (how?) at the enemy (no, seriously, why?)

C: Someone dressed in a hocky mask using a baseball bat as a weapon

Three against four, but again, glasses girl isn't doing anything, so really, it's three against three. And I'm going to go out on a limb and say that the first group is the good guys because…um…alright, I don't know, but I figure that any golden hockey stick is better than a non-glowing baseball bat, so sue me, okay?

Also, the one with the baseball bat totally stole my thing. Sports equipment as weapons? Hocky masks? That's my schtick, damn it!

So I go into the bathroom with my duffel bag, and do a quick change. Goodbye Casey Jones, hello…um, Casey Jones. I…yeah, okay, maybe I should get a codename. Like that Robin guy. I'm just pouring through bird names when hoodie guy slams sports girl through the wall, and into the bathroom, catching me with my pants down. Literally.

…No, I was not browsing Playboy, you reprobate!

I quickly zip up my pants, put on my mask, and try and get in on the action. Hoodie boy is shouting, sports girl is shouting, and it's clear that they really, really, really hate each other's guts. So when sports girl kicks hoodie boy through the door, I use my own bat to tap her on the shoulder.

"Hello, sweetheart."

She screams. Especially when I swing my bat, hitting her.

It's a victory, but only a short one. Because then violin guy comes over, and starts playing his instrument. And I get the mother of all migraines. And trust me, when you live in a one bedroom apartment, listening to your wife tap at the laptop as late as 2AM working on "the story," you develop a headache or two.

It was bad, let me tell you. Really bad. So bad that I couldn't even see what was happening, as my vision clouded. He eventually stopped playing (why, I can't say), but then I find myself face to face with ninja girl. The one with blades coming out of her wrists.

"Karai?" I ask.

"Yeah, I don't know who that is," she says.

She's definitely not Karai, I realize. She's slightly less crazy.

"Doesn't matter, you're dead anyway."

So the ninja girl attacks me, and…alright, I'm going to keep this between you and me, but I'm really out of the game. That I'm writing this at all, you know I survived, but, well…the bitch could move, alright? And those wrist blades…

Turns out that NFL gear isn't actually the most effective body armour in the world. And a hockey mask doesn't do you much good when it's ripped off your face, and you're kicked to the ground.

"Pfft, nice mask, Jason."

Oh please, I think to myself, don't compare me to Jason Vorhees in my last moments.

Her dagger comes down. And for whatever reason, I actually find myself thinking of April in what I think are going to be my last moments.

And Leo. And Mikey. And Donnie. And yes, even Raphael, you asshole.

I can't believe I'm about to die in Nevada!

But I don't. Because ninja girl gets blasted by blue girl's golden hockey staff. Not lethally, or anything like that, but enough to give me time to spring to my feet, take out a cricket ball, toss it, and hit it with my bat.

Not at blue girl. At sports girl, who's rushing at her from behind. Who falls, as the cricket ball strikes her temple.

There's only one sports master this side of Kansas, bitch.

Why did I hit it with the bat rather than just throw it? Please. I've got some style left in me.

"Nice throw," the blue girl with the golden hockey stick says.

I smirk. "All in a day's work for Casey Jones."

She stares at me.

"Casey Jones," I repeat.

The golden hockey stick makes a sound that tells me it's just as confused.

"Casey Jones," I say again. "Hero of New York?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." She rolls her eyes, gets on her hockey stick (which at closer inspection, is more of a staff) and begins flying to violin guy.

"Seriously, does no-one know who Casey Jones is?!"

As the costume-clad weirdos continue fighting, I suppose not. Unsheathing a pair of table tennis rackets, I walk over to sports girl. Roll your eyes if you must, but if you think table tennis rackets aren't worth my time, you've never seen Forrest Gump.

She isn't moving, and for a moment, I fear that she's dead. But, as I tear off her mask, I realize two things.

One. She isn't dead. That's nice.

Two. She's young.

Really young.

Really, really young.

Young enough to be my daughter, really. Which I don't have. And probably never will. Not while I'm in Nevada, and April is in the city, county, and state of New York.

But still…she's young.

All of these kids are young. And I think to myself, in that moment, two things.

One, I'm hungry. I wish I could have eaten more of my steak.

Two, I've been here before.

I've been on the streets, fighting alongside weirdos against other weirdos.

I've been carrying this sport equipment for so long, it's become a part of me.

I've been...yeah, okay, I know you smartarses are thinking that that's actually four things, not two, and well, Mister Smarty Pants, I'll have you know that when you've saved New York more times than you have brain cells, when you've fought alongside reptiles (amphibians? Are turtles reptiles or amphibians?), and you stop fighting, and you get married, and then you start fighting over every single thing, and you want to stop fighting, and you can't bring yourself to admit it, and-

"Mister?"

Oh, it's goggles girl. The one who's been useless up to this point.

"Hello," I say.

"You alright?"

"Oh yeah, fine." I look at sports girl. "Totally fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I…" I look around – blue girl is fighting ninja girl, cat girl is evading air-waves from violin guy, and hoodie boy is…actually, I can't see him. But there is a giant robot flying down from the sky. That's cool I guess.

"No, I'm not okay."

It's weird for me to say that.

"I'm thirty-something years old, I'm carrying the same sports equipment I've used since I was your age, and my wife is…well, I don't know if she's going to stay my wife and…well…"

"Oh," says the girl. "That's really sad."

"Yeah," I say, as a black mist comes out of ninja girl, threatening to end all life on the planet. "It is."

"I know what it's like," goggles girl says. "My parents are going to divorce."

I have no answer to that. Breakup is hard by itself. To have a child in the mix…

I look at sports girl. At her mask. Years on, and my mask hasn't changed.

"But hey, maybe it's not too late," goggles girl says.

"Maybe," I murmur, as the dark mist says that it is too late for humanity.

"Yeah. You know, I bet if you go home right now, and you tell your wife how much you really love her, then…then there'll be a happy ending!"

She smiles, and I can't help but smile as well. "You think so?"

"I know so!"

"Huh. Maybe."

Maybe goggles girl isn't as useless as I thought.

So, yeah. More stuff happened. We saved all life on Earth, the mist thing went back in a diamond, and blue girl encountered a blue guy, but I won't bore you with all those details. Point is, I found new purpose that day. And that's why I'm writing this now. Because while there's any number of people who can wear masks, and carry baseball bats, and be everything from heroes, to villains, there's only one Casey Jones in this crazy world, and only one April O'Neil as well.

Now if someone has any change for the bus fare, I'll gladly take it.

Thanks.

A/N

So having watched the first two seasons of Stargirl, and seeing both Sports Master and Artemis in sports gear...might just be me, but I had Casey Jones flashbacks.

Anyway, drabbled this up.