THE BIKER
The two boys turned the corner and despite being out of breath they burst out laughing. "You really stuck her with that brick!" said one through bouts of hysterical laughter. "I know!" exclaimed the other, clutching his sides for fear of them bursting. "Her foot will never be the same again!" That line made them laugh even harder, at a cruel joke that was only funny to them. When the laughter died completely (it took a while) they sighed in happiness and slumped against the wall. The boys were their estate's main tormenters. Picking on children usually at least four years younger than them (they were eleven), stealing valuables that people-who-should-know-better left lying around, and just, well, tormenting. Fionn McQueary was the two-member gang's leader. He had small piggy eyes, close-cropped brown hair and, oh yes, he was fat. Most probably overweight. Every time he laughed at other people's misfortune (often) he shook so much that his victims were surprised that the shaking didn't pass through his body and start an earthquake. He used his weight to his advantage, though. He often hid around corners waiting for his pray to run by, then jumped out and let them bounce off his giant stomach. The only disadvantage with his weight was that he couldn't keep up a chase for very long without collapsing to the ground, puffing and panting. That's exactly what the other member, Rian Murphy, was for.
Rian was the exact opposite to Fionn; he was short and skinny and fast. Often used to his advantage. He was the one who dropped the brick on the little girls' foot. I'm surprised he even managed that. He has strength equivalent to an insect. What he lacked in strength he made up for in speed and strength. I can see why they became a gang. They needed each other. They completed each other.
The little girl on the other hand was Isobel Quinn. She was five years old, most often wearing pigtails in her shiny, blonde hair. She usually wore a white t-shirt with a pink pinafore and was always seen with something in her mouth. From lollipops to celery sticks to blades of grass- you name it; she had it in her mouth. I also know that she would never do anything bad in her life. She was an angel, and that could be literal. Why Rian and Fionn (or "the Crossbones" as they called themselves) would want to hurt this little girl is beyond me.
Back to the story. Fionn looked at Rian. "What's up with you?" he asked, puzzled. Even Fionn, as a guy with the IQ of a brick, could tell that there was something bothering his friend. His friend looked- no! Could it be? - Scared. "Nothin'" replied Rian distantly. He noticed Fionn raising an eyebrow. "It's just," he began, "there've been rumours." His friend looked at him. Rian Murphy? Bothered by a silly little rumour? No way! "What kind of rumour?" asked Fionn, trying to conceal his curiosity. Rian sighed. "Well, I heard from Johnny that there've been sightings of a monster on a bike." Fionn tried to stop himself from laughing. The water gates weren't properly closed, though, and he let out a snigger. Rian didn't notice. "Johnny the Snitch?" Fionn asked, trying to sound serious without too much luck. "Whoa, it must be pretty serious." Johnny the Snitch was, in short, a snitch. He always told the truth.
"Yup," Rian said anxiously, as though his words were scaring him all over again. "He said that the guy goes around beating wrong-doers up or somethin' like that." Fionn frowned. 'Wrong-doers?' Now he knew something was wrong!
"Yeah?" Fionn said nervously. It was starting to get to him. He was starting to shiver. No, it's just the cold he told himself. "Yep," said Rian, looking over his shoulder to check for eavesdroppers. "I heard that he's six feet tall or something, and has a bike made by slaves he keeps in his cellar. He has a black face and silver eyes, and he likes Irish boy blood in his tea. If it's any other blood than that, he goes on a mindless rampage. A killing spree. You know Jack?"
Fionn nodded. Who could forget Firework Jack? He tied things to fireworks and then lit them, blowing the often stolen object to kingdom come and back. Once he even tied a dog's tail to a small firework, blowing the poor animal's tail off and burning its bottom. Even Fionn thought that that was going too far!
"Well," continued Rian, "he was about to blow up his sister's favourite teddy bear when the rider guy came along. He's in hospital now. The guy also tied Jack's shoe to the firework to show him he meant business." Fionn shrugged. "He doesn't scare me," he said indignantly, although he was secretly being overwhelmed by fear. "Well, I have to be honest, he scares me," admitted Rian. They sat in silence for a moment. Fionn looked at his watch. "Oh," he said in greedy delight. "Jake'll probably be going down to get his mom's groceries by now. With loads of money. Let's go." As they were about to stand up, Fionn looked to the left and gasped. At the end of the road, a lone figure stood silhouetted against the sun. Sitting on a bike. Rian noticed what he was looking at and paled. "RUN!" he yelled. As they leapt to their feet, the rider started cycling towards them. They ran as fast as they could up to the Tree as the rider closed the gap between them. Fionn, sweating heavily, tripped and fell to the ground. The rider turned the corner, and Fionn froze.
The guy showed no signs of stopping, cycling at a ridiculously high speed. It was too late to get up. The rider was about to claim his next victim. Fionn wished that he had never done any bad. He wanted to take back the time he beat Tom to a pulp. He regretted the time he stole Stan's disposable camera. He wished he had never done those things, but it was too late to beg for forgiveness. He raised his hands to his face and whimpered as the rider came upon him. It never came. The pain, the wheels running over his body, the blood spurting from various places.
The person in black just jumped up, pulling the bike with him, and landed on the grass beyond Fionn's quivering head. The rider raced after the other boy, producing a hook with a nylon cord tied tightly to it. He swung the rope expertly, and the hook snagged Rian's t-shirt, yanking him to the ground. The rider skidded to a halt, just inches before Rian's head. The boy was scared stiff. The rider dismounted the bike whilst kicking down the stand. Rian could only stare in wonder. Who was this guy? Whoever he was, he had just performed a trick that would have taken him years to master. The rider strode over to where Rian was lying, pressing a finger to his neck to push a hidden button.
The rider bent down and picked Rian up by the scruff of the neck. "What's your name?" demanded the person in a deep, gravely, slightly tinny voice. Rian dared not disobey. "R-Rian", he stuttered. "Rian Murphy." The rider brought the terrified boy's face closer to his own. "Well R-Rian", growled the rider mockingly. "How would you like your blood in my next cup of tea?" The boy whimpered. "No?" the rider said. "Well then, you'd better give that little girl you nailed a full apology. Alright?" Rian nodded furiously. As this conversation was taking place, Fionn decided to take the opportunity and run. To hell with Rian! He'd make a lovely cup of tea.
The boy's feet pounded heavily on the ground, and having the attention span of a rodent he didn't notice the wires snaking across the grass. He stepped on a pressure pad, and a shock went through his body. He yelped in pain and fell to the ground. As he lay there, he saw the pressure pad. It was black, and had a red symbol on it: a wheel. From a bike. Fionn groaned. The rider strolled towards him. Fionn plucked up the courage and said "Who are you?" The rider turned his head to look at him. Fionn felt the person glaring at him from behind the large, silver eyepieces. He hesitated, as if debating whether or not to tell Fionn his name.
"I'm the Biker," he said. "By the way, Jack says 'hi'." The Biker curled his fingers into a fist and Fionn let out a sob, thinking that he was going to hit him. "Oh, cop on," said the Biker in exasperation and a stream of slightly green gas hissed from a hidden tube in his sleeve. Fionn fell unconscious. If he wasn't on duty, the Biker would have done a dance on the spot in celebration that the gas had worked. Instead he pressed the button on his neck and laughed in a boy's voice. "Six feet tall?" he grinned, "I wish!"
* * * His name was Jake Dawson. He was twelve, and often teased by others. Called a weed. A nerd. A bookworm. He was most of those things. He wasn't a weed though. His baggy clothes deceived them into thinking he was a skinny runt. But that was muscle under there, from training in kung fu. He was a black belt. He never bragged about it though. He wasn't the bragging type. He was a nice, religious, healthy boy. He WAS a bookworm. He loved books. He'd read anything, from seven hundred-page volumes to milk cartons. He WAS a nerd. He was unnaturally smart and clever.
He loved tinkering with technology, and had a whole array of weaponry that he had made himself. He also knew everything about bikes. He got that from his father. That man was always taking bikes apart, sticking tiny wheels on, doing anything for some entertainment. He then passed on everything he knew about bikes to Jake. Jake had a normal bike: a light blue mountain bike. But unbeknownst to everyone else, he had another one.
This was his "working bike": jet black, shiny, cool. He called it "Bolt". It had racing bike wheels most of the time and went ridiculously fast. In the place of a drink bottle there was a small, black box: his gear. He had also added loads of attachments. Like the headlamp, for instance .It was a sleek thing attached to the handlebars. When Jake pressed the yellow button in the place of the bell, the lamp flicked on. It was very bright, and projected the red wheel on anywhere it shone. And there were the tacks. There was a small cylinder on the back of the bike and when Jake pressed the blue button the cylinder opened, releasing tyre-popping tacks. Lastly, there was the motor. It was attached to the underside of the saddle, and by pressing the green button it made the bike go temporarily faster. This hadn't been tested yet, though.
Jake became the Biker because he was extremely sick of all the stupid, cruel kids walking around the estate inflicting pain wherever they went. He thought it was a fun job. It probably was. Jake peeled the mask from his sweaty face and threw it onto the table. He took a swig from a carton of orange juice and plonked himself down at the table, sighing wearily. He felt a vibration against his leg. He groaned. He'd programmed the pager to warn him whenever known hoodlums' hearts were racing. Impressive, huh? He also had two computer monitors in his room. You see, there was an old man living a couple of houses away. He had been robbed, and became extremely paranoid so he installed cameras all over the estate. Then Jake tapped into the system and could see the whole estate at once.
On one screen there was Firework Jack, up to his old tricks. He was in the middle of tying a mobile phone to a firework, which was difficult when you had a cast restraining one arm. On the other screen there was a gang of hoodlums chasing a boy. Jake gasped when he realized who it was they were chasing. It was Darren. His stepbrother.
The Biker rushed out the door while pulling his mask on. He'd deal with Jack later. This was more important. The Biker leapt onto his bike and cycled up the hill at speed. Meanwhile, the boys had caught Darren. "Give us the money, Darren", ordered the leader; a skinny boy with spiky blonde hair. "Dunno… what you're… talking 'bout", panted Darren. "Alright", the leader said, grinning with malice. "We'll have to take it the hard way". As the rest of the gang started advancing on Darren they heard a crash, causing all of their heads to turn. A figure dressed all in black came flying through the air and landed on his back on the grass. Long story short: Jake had come across a pothole. The Biker staggered to his feet. "I'm okay!" he announced to no one in particular. "THIS is the monster they've been talking about," laughed the leader. The Biker shrugged. "I try", he said in that deep voice, with help of a voice changer concealed under his mask. "He's no tougher than us", the leader snarled. "WE can take him!" The gang advanced on the Biker. "OK", he said, "I think it's time for me to... you know..." He started running. The gang followed suit. The Biker didn't even know where he was running, he just ran. He was probably fitter than all of those nut jobs put together. The best thing to do would be to run all over the estate to tire them out, then sneak off. But they were catching up on him.
Jack came into view. He was still tying the phone to the firework, and looked up. His long hair was scraggy, and he eyed the Biker with fear. Jake had no interest in him at the moment, and almost ran by when he noticed the big box of fireworks beside him. A plan formed in his head. "You're too late!" yelled Jack, trying to sound confident but you could see he was trembling. He'd finished tying and was now lighting the firework. "Sianara Samsung!" he cackled.
The Biker kicked the firework so that it was facing diagonally. Jack yelped and scurried away to watch from a distance. The gang were closing in. He only had one chance at this. Had to get it right. The firework launched in a shower of sparks and shot towards the box. It connected, and the result was three Chinese New Years rolled into one. The box exploded and the fireworks flew all over the place and started doing their thing.
The gang were awestruck at the display, and their jaws dropped. They were distracted. Perfect. The Biker lunged at two of the skinniest members, knocking them to the ground. He leapt to his feet, and he no longer had the element of surprise. The show began.
He landed a kick on a punk's chin, then took out another one with a double punch. He brought out the grappling hook and swung it at one member while kicking another. The hook caught on his belt and the Biker gave a mighty pull, sending the punk flying through the air to collide with another. Jake threw a fearsome uppercut which connected with a thug's chin. The leader lunged at him, screaming. The Biker stepped out of the way and he collided head first into the Tree, knocking himself out. One more thug lunged at him and the Biker threw him to the ground.
"Who are you?" the thug groaned. The Biker grinned under his mask. "I'm the Biker," he said, pressing the knock-out gas button. The gas wouldn't come out. Jake groaned. This was an awfully bad time for the tube to clog up! Foolishly, he raised the nozzle to his face to look into the tube. He pressed the button again. The gas hissed out. Oh, crap was the Biker's final thought as he fell to the ground unconscious.
* * *
He opened his eyes, slowly. He looked around. He was in a room. His own. He sat bolt upright, but then a sharp pain shot through his head and he fell back on to his pillow. He noticed Darren standing beside him. "Good," he said in relief. "I thought you were in a coma or something." Jake sat up, slowly this time. There he was, in a room with his brother, while in his costume. One false move and his secret identity was blown to smithereens!
"Hi," he said weakly. He was glad that the voice changer was still working. "What happened?" he asked. "Well," Darren began, "you were unconscious, I came along and saw you. One of the thugs had a branch, about to hit you, but I stopped him. Then I brought you here, to my house. Least I could do."
"Thanks," said Jake, standing up. "I've got to go." Darren frowned. "But... you're not recovered!" he yelled after him. "At least stay until you are! Your head must be pounding!" He was right. It was. But staying in the same room as his brother was too risky. Anyway, he needed to get his bike. As if reading Jake's mind, Darren shouted "They have it. Your bike." The Biker stopped and turned around. "What?" he said weakly. "Sorry," Darren apologized. "As soon as I dragged you here, I went back for it and it was gone." Jake went back and sat on the bed. "No, no, NO!" he said with his face in his hands. "It's alright," said Darren gently. "We'll get it back. I'll help you."
"NO!" shouted the Biker, causing Darren to jump. "I was just trying to help," he said, hurt. "No," said Jake so quietly that Darren had to lean in to hear. "You don't understand!" and he didn't. In the gear box, there was a book. And in the book was Jake's name. And now that book was in the thug's hands. He cursed himself for being so obsessive. "Look," Darren said firmly.
"I may not understand, but you need rest. Stay here. I'll lock the door so that no one'll find you. I'm going to get some painkillers." He left the room, and Jake heard the door clicking. He rested his head on the pillow. Every second he spent lying there was one more second that his bike was in the gang's possession. He had to get it back. Now. He jumped out of bed and rummaged in a drawer until he found what he was looking for: the spare key. The Biker inserted the key in the lock and turned it. He opened the door, to find his younger stepbrother Tony standing at the other end of the landing holding a large cookie. As soon as the nine year old saw him he dropped the cookie in shock. "No way!" he exclaimed. Jake hurriedly tried to shut the door but Tony was too fast, slipping into the room before it closed.
"A real-life superhero!" the boy gasped. "Tony, get out!" the Biker growled. Then he realized his mistake in saying his stepbrother's name. Tony frowned. "How…?" he said, and then his eyes opened wide. "You're a psychic!" he yelled gleefully. "Wicked!" The Biker groaned and flopped onto the bed. His head was pounding more than ever. "Where's Darren?" he said aloud. "Darren knew about you and never told me?" Tony said, puzzled. "I love superheroes! Why would he do that?"
"I was in trouble," the Biker admitted. "Darren saved me. You're lucky to have him. I'm the Biker, by the way." Darren entered the room and his eyes flared with anger when he saw Tony. "Tony!" he growled. "Get out and stop annoying him!"
"It's ok," said the Biker. "Let him stay. I don't care." He looked through the eyepieces at Darren. "But we need to get my bike back or the whole estate will know my secret identity." Darren winced when he heard this. "I forgot to tell you," he said sheepishly. He produced a rolled up newspaper from his back pocket. Jake recognized it at once.
There were plenty of gits on the estate. One of them was called Zoey. She was spoiled, mean, bossy and everything else you can think of. She also liked to be in control. She had recently combined her desire for knowledge and gossip with her desire to have an advantage over everyone else on the estate and set up a newspaper: "The Chapel Gate Times". She was the editor, Emma was the photographer and spy and Jane was the main writer. Jane. Pretty, strong-minded, nice. Jake hadn't told anyone (including her) but he fancied her. A lot. She just hung out with the wrong crowd, that's all.
Anyway, back to the newspaper. If you found dirt that you wanted to go public, give it to Zoey. If you have an incriminating photograph, give it to Zoey. If you wanted news to spread like wildfire (which often happened as this was a relatively small town) just tell it to- yep you guessed it: Zoey.
Darren unfurled the latest edition of the "Chapel Gate Times" and handed it to Jake, who took it. On the front page there was a picture of him looking down the gas tube, and the headline screamed "WHO IS THIS MASKED WEIRDO?" and below it in smaller print, "Excitement at new possible superhero sweeps Chapel Gate." The article was mainly short interviews with victims and witnesses and speculation. Can he fly? Can he electrocute people? Does he mean well? At the end of the issue there was a message: "Biker! Fifty euro if you come to number thirty seven for interviewing".
Throughout the issue the Biker saw many threats from victims. One caught his eye: "Hello, Biker. As may have guessed, we have your bike. I'll make this short and sweet: either you give up the superhero business or we trash your bike. We want your mask on our doorstep by midnight on Sunday. We'll leave your bike up at the Tree. See you Sunday." The Biker tossed the paper to the floor and buried his face in his hands.
After a minute the two boys standing over him got worried. "Biker?" asked Tony uncertainly. "You aren't gonna quit are you?" Jake tried to be strong. "No", he said. "But we'll need a plan to get it back. I'll be back here tomorrow morning. See you then". He pulled a small black ball from his belt and threw it to the ground. It exploded into a sheet of black smoke, and when it disappeared the Biker was gone. The two boys looked in silence at the place where he'd disappeared for a moment. "Well", said Darren, "he can sure make an exit".
* * *
Jake changed into his normal clothes and entered the house again. He found Darren and Tony still in his room. As soon as Tony saw him, he started yapping away. "Jake!" he yelled excitedly. "You'll never guess what happened! The-" he was cut short when Darren clamped his hand over Tony's mouth. "Our business," he said. "Hope you understand." Jake raised his hands. "I won't interfere," he grinned as the boys left the room.
Jake spent the rest of the day coming up with a plan. He didn't want to give up being the Biker. It was fun and invigorating. He had to come up with some way to get his bike without giving up his mantle. Finding their base wouldn't be any problem. Everyone knew where they operated. If you walk down the lane, there was a fork. The left road was blocked by a gate, and had all manner of cruel signs on it: "trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again." No one doubted this, so they stayed well clear. Then there was the "Beware of the Dog" sign. They didn't have a dog, but they were ten times more vicious than any Rottweiler. If you passed through the gate and survived there was a long country road that ended at a small warehouse. NO ONE ever went in there. EVER. This gang was the most vicious, merciless gang in the entire town. Jake had beaten them out of sheer luck, that's all. He was lucky they didn't have their shotguns.
The gang didn't even have a name. They didn't pick one for fear that it'd get laughed at. And because it made them more mysterious. Jake's chance of getting his bike back from there was a million to one. But he had to come up with something quickly.
His Dad walked into the room. He was a tall, broad man with glasses and grey hair. "Hi, Jake," he greeted with a smile. "You haven't seen Darren by any chance, have you?" Jake shook his head. "Okay," his Dad sighed. He disappeared back through the door. Jake flopped onto his bed and groaned in frustration. He was smart. Why couldn't he think of something? Maybe it was because his subconscious knew that there was no hope in getting his bike without giving up being the Biker. He'd only just started!
Jake heard the door of Darren's room slam. Darren was home. Where had he been? All of this would have to wait until tomorrow, Jake decided.
* * *
Darren entered Jake's room the next day wearing an icepack. Jake couldn't have picked a more appropriate time to go for a walk; his room was their meeting place. The Biker entered through the window, his grappling hook trailing behind him. Jake fought to hold down a gasp when he saw Darren's face. It was bruised and bloody. Cuts littered his face and bare arms. He smiled and the Biker was shocked to see that one of his teeth was missing. "God! What happened?" the Biker asked in concern. Darren looked weak. "Let's just say that I paid my entry fee," he joked. "I'm now part of the gang." The Biker didn't know how to take this news so he stood in silence and adjusted his cape.
"I still don't know what we're going to do," he admitted. "Neither do I," he said, "But that didn't stop me from preparing from some inside work." Jake sighed. "Thanks for that," he said. "We'll work something out." Just then he felt the pager buzzing against his leg, and the two computer screens showed the CCTV footage. The Biker yelped and hurriedly fumbled to turn them off. "What's that?" Darren asked, brow creased. "Um…Norton Internet Security!" the hero tried as he turned the footage off. But Darren had already seen. "Oh my God!" he gasped. "Jake!" the Biker winced as his secret identity was blown to bits. "It's not what you think!" he said desperately. Darren's eyes narrowed. "It's exactly what I think" he hissed. "Jake's been working with you all the time and has never told me!"
The Biker held back a sigh of relief, hardly believing his luck. He sighed in fake acceptance. "You got us!" he said sadly, grinning beneath his mask. Darren looked thoughtful. "That's how you always know when something's wrong," he realized. "He's telling you! I need to have a word with that little git…"
"Ahem," said the Biker impatiently. "As you may have noticed, there's trouble."
"Oh. Sorry," Darren apologised. "It's ok, "said the Biker, "But we need to get down there fast!"
* * *
The Biker arrived at the scene. A few members of the gang were mugging another teenager, among them was their leader. The boys looked up as the figure approached. The so-called mugging victim stood up, he was another gang member! "So," said the leader. "Thought about our compromise?" the Biker glared at them. "More like a sentence," he said back. "Black-mailing is just another form of cowardice." The evil grin vanished from the leader's face and he stepped towards his opponent. "You calling me a coward?" he snarled. The Biker shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah," he admitted. "And I'm saying that hiding behind my bike won't do you any good. And that you're the lowest form of life ever to walk this earth. Ooh, and while we're at it, Darren thinks you're an idiot. Can't say I don't agree." The leader looked ready to pounce on him. "Watch it, hero," he growled. "You're running out of time. It's Friday already." The Biker shrugged casually. "But I'm not out of time yet, am I? Let me make my decision in peace." And he walked away.
The Biker was standing outside the gate down the lane, waiting. He realized that he must've looked pretty ridiculous, arms crossed with his cape billowing behind him. Darren was at the weekly meeting. How order was executed in that layer of chaos I'll never know. Jake sighed. If only he had his book. The Bloodstone Chronicles were his all time favourite books, and it would've kept him busy. He had been waiting there for more than an hour now, and he was getting seriously bored.
Suddenly the gate opened. The Biker hid in a bush as two score of vicious looking teens spilled out. Darren was out last, looking brow beaten but happy. The Biker emerged from the bush. "So?" he enquired. "Get anything?" Darren just grinned and nodded "Well?" said the Biker impatiently. "Let's talk in my office," said Darren.
They reached Darren's room within five minutes. The Biker noticed that the walk seemed to take forever without a bike. They walked into Darren's pig-sty of a room and Darren installed himself behind his desk, gesturing for the Biker to be seated. When they were both seated Darren began. "Remember the time when Stan was in the Ghouls club?" Darren asked absent-mindedly. The Biker frowned. "I expect you to remember," Darren continued, "because it was a secret club and everyone knew about it. Stan entered a competition and won a life-sized golden statue of the Ghoul. Not real gold, duh!"
Of course Jake remembered that! Stan's unlikely obsession with books had gone as far as joining a cheesy club that didn't really do anything. Stan had then put it in his front garden as a monument. But that wasn't the reason Jake was frowning. The reason Jake was frowning was because of the untimely references to Darren's best friend's dealings. Jake stayed silent, though.
"Then," Darren continued, "He suspected a conspiracy in the club involving Viacom and quit. Sound familiar?" The Biker just nodded. Stan was a bit of a weirdo; suspecting conspiracies often involving his arch nemesis Viacom. They usually got him into a lot of trouble. "He didn't know what to do with the statue, though. So he left it in front of the gang's gate." The Biker nodded again. When he had been walking down the lane once, he had seen the tall, plastic gold statue standing outside the gate, thinking the gang put it there for decoration or something.
"But," Darren continued, grinning, "He wasn't just going to leave it there. He broke the statue's mouth open and installed a walkie talkie and a walkie talkie charger, then super glued the mouth back on. He kept the other one and when the leader came out and saw it he talked. The voice seemed to be coming from the ghoul statue, so the leader was terrified. Stan said that if they didn't take the statue in and worship it, he would slaughter them all. So they did. The meetings ARE meetings –they talk over plans of action and stuff like that. But it's also a ceremony. They've even put in benches stolen from parks and a wooden altar. They talk about the Bloodstone Chronicles and the Ghoul and how heroic he is. Then they get on their knees and bow ten times to the statue." The Biker couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing. "That is SO unprofessional," scowled Darren, but then he joined in. They stopped thirty seconds later and sighed. "That was good" said the Biker gleefully. "Yup," Darren agreed. He turned his head. "Nice laughing with you, Biker." He said in a posh accent. "Same here, Darren old bean," replied the Biker. "Would you like another lady finger, old chap?" They laughed again. "We can really use this to our advantage," exclaimed the Biker when they stopped laughing. He turned his head towards Darren. "We need to talk to Stan," he said.
"No," said Stan flatly. "Why should I give you the walkie talkie? Gives me hours of endless fun, it does."
"We really need it," Darren pleaded. "Sorry, buddy, I-" Stan frowned. "Who's we?" he asked, puzzled. He saw that Darren was looking behind him. Stan turned around and gave a small shout when he saw a black clad figure with silver eyes standing there. Stan looked back at Darren, gasping for breath and hitting his chest to get his heart working again. Darren shrugged. "He does that."
Stan led them into the musty living room. They sat down as Stan fetched the walkie talkie. Minutes later Stan appeared again, handing Darren the walkie talkie and giving them voice advice. "I always sound gruff, like the actual Ghoul," he said. "And I also use all of his catchphrases from the books. Like 'aye lad' and 'quickly, lad' and 'come on, put your back into it' and 'you're dafter that I thought, lad' and-"
"I've read the books," said the Biker. "Several times." Stan looked embarrassed. "Oh," he mumbled. "Just didn't think that-you know-you being a superhero and all, I didn't think…."he trailed away. "Well thanks anyway," said Darren. "Anything for a real-life superhero," Stan said brightly. "Although I still prefer Iron Man."
* * *
The next day, a plan had formed. The first stage was to spy on the gang during their morning ceremony. Darren was to go in with his mobile phone. Jake would ring him with his recording device and Darren would answer and keep the phone on so that the Biker could hear every word. Darren and Jake were standing outside the gate, discussing their plan. "You just have to find out where they're keeping Bolt," said the Biker. "Sneak out during the ceremony and take a look around. Are you ready for this Darren? You can still choose not to do this. It's just a bike." Darren smiled weakly. "I'm in it now," he said. "Might as well keep going. Besides, this is exciting!" the Biker sighed uneasily. "Just be careful," he warned. "They're armed and dangerous. Boy, I've always wanted to say that! To even things out a little bit, take these…" he pulled the tube and the small gas container from under his sleeve. "Oh, and this," he added, taking the pouch of the black balls off his belt. "Oh yeah, and who could forget this?" he exclaimed, pulling a spiky metal ball from his pocket. "Careful," he warned.
"That's a prototype explosive. Ah hell, just take the belt!" He took off the belt and handed it to Darren. Suddenly, the gate opened. "Good luck," said the Biker, smiling. "Thanks," murmured Darren. "God knows I'm going to need it."
* * *
Darren entered the warehouse nervously. Inside was the entrance hall. There were coat hangers lining the walls, and graffiti covered the rest. Surprisingly, the graffiti was artistic. Unsurprisingly, Darren knew that he would have been able to fit his whole house in this room. The leader, Jimmy, obviously liked order which was strange. All the signs were there: the meetings, the ceremonies, the organization, the guy in the entrance hall waiting for passes. Darren walked up to the guy. He was wearing a long black coat and had a fringe that covered his eyes. His long brown hair for once wasn't tied in a ponytail: it hung loose over his shoulders. His silver nose ring glinted brightly against his pale skin. He held out his hand for the pass. Darren fumbled in his pockets until he found it: a small laminated piece of card with name, age and vicious-o-metre on it. The guy nodded and gestured towards the double doors. Darren pushed them open and gasped. The room was packed with teenagers. He hadn't seen so many of them in the one place since the premiere of AVP 2, and THAT was saying something. Some of them didn't even look like they were from the same country. Maybe they had underestimated the gang. Exactly how far did their influences spread? It made Darren shudder at the prospect of the millions of could-be members out there.
Then came the weirdest part. They were all wearing birthday hats. Even weirder, they seemed to like it. Balloons floated around the room like ghosts and banners crossed the fake stained-glass windows: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY GHOUL!" Darren would have laughed if he wasn't so shocked. And in the centre of the altar stood the statue of the Ghoul, staff in hand and a birthday hat perched on its head.
This statue may have been forced upon them but the gang had taken to it like flies to dung!
Darren took a birthday hat from a table beside the double doors but didn't put it on. He, for one, still had his dignity. Jimmy leapt onto the altar and took the microphone. "Friends," he greeted in a subtle, peaceful tone so unlike his own. "We are gathered here today to celebrate a very special occasion: our Lord's birthday!" The congregation cheered so loudly that Darren was surprised that the whole place didn't collapse. "Now," Jimmy continued, "do we all have our hats on?" Darren sighed but slipped the ridiculous looking hat on. If only the Biker could see him now!
* * *
Unbeknownst to him, the Biker COULD see him. Very clearly. Through his camera lens. The Biker had used his grappling hook to scale the building and was now looking through the skylight at the mass taking place. He too had noticed the considerably larger crowd but wasn't thinking on it at the moment as he was taking pictures of his stepbrother in that ridiculous hat. Jake grinned beneath the mask. He could see the headlines of the next Chapel Gate Times: "RELIGIOUS CULT CELEBRATES PLASTIC STATUE'S BIRTHDAY". Tony would really enjoy that.
"Now," he heard Jimmy saying loudly. "Let's read a passage from the second book in the Bloodstone Chronicles: 'The Ghoul's Curse'." Jimmy picked a red book from a chair. He flicked through the pages and swore when he couldn't find the page he was looking for. Unfortunately for him he was doing so into the microphone. The congregation sniggered.
Suddenly Jimmy froze, gasping for breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver inhaler, pressed it to his mouth and pushed the button three times. Jimmy had asthma. The Biker pulled out his notebook and wrote "Jimmy has asthma." It might come in handy later.
Then he put the notebook away and listened to the familiar words drifting up to him. When the paragraph had been read they got down on their knees and bowed ten times.
"And now," announced Jimmy importantly. "Our lord the Ghoul hasn't spoken to us in a month. Would he like to say a word?" The congregation held their breath. So did the Biker, until he realized that that was his cue. He picked up the walkie talkie and started to talk in his well rehearsed voice:
"Good evening, my apprentices," he said, fighting to hold down a laugh. The crowd gasped. Jimmy gasped. Darren raised an eyebrow. "You have been good to me, lads," he continued, "and so I will repay you." Whispers of excitement passed through the crowd. "I will give you the power to sense the dark." The crowd gasped. Jimmy gasped. Darren raised his eyebrow again. The Biker snickered, keeping the walkie talkie well away from his mouth.
"All you have to do," he said, "is close your eyes for one minute. Close your minds. Let sound fade away. Only think about the power you want. Keep your eyes closed, dammit!" he yelled angrily at a boy in the third row. Down below, Darren realized that this was the distraction.
He edged passed the rows of greedy faces and went out the door in the corner of the room. The toilet was this way along with all of the other rooms, so no one would suspect a thing. He passed the toilets and went up the stairs, sweat dripping down his face. It was stuffy in there. The person who painted these corridors obviously likes blue, Darren thought as he reached the first door: A5. Darren opened it slowly. It was empty. He closed it and continued along the corridor to A6.
Nothing there but stacks of tables and chairs. A7: Fridges full of food and drinks. A8: Computers. A9: Books and posters of the Ghoul. A10: Darren gasped as he saw the walls were covered with weapons; knives, daggers, guns. Darren shut the door briskly, unease creeping up his throat. He continued opening doors with no luck until he came across a locked one. Excited, he took a pin from the Biker's belt and inserted it into the lock. He fumbled with it as the Biker had shown him until he heard the lock click. He opened the door, and there she was: Bolt, gleaming and shinier than ever. He grinned and took out his mobile to tell the Biker the good news. "I found it," he said gleefully into the receiver. "Room A22."
He heard the Biker sigh with relief. "Good," he said, "now go to the next window you see and use the spare grappling hook to climb down."
"Or I could just take the door into the entrance hall and go out the front door," chuckled Darren. Silence. "Or that," said the Biker quietly. "Just get out of there now! Jimmy's going out for a pee. Meet you back at our- you're place."
"See you there!" chirped Darren, and hung up. He'd sneaked into a vicious gang's headquarters when they were at their strongest and was about to escape in one piece! He couldn't believe his luck. All they had to do now was formulate a plan the next morning. When they got the bike back, everything would be back to normal. Or not AS normal.
Maybe their friendship would continue, and Darren could even be the Biker's partner! Then they'd take care of the gang for good and go around the town fighting crime. Darren shook the thought from his head. He's think about that later. First things first: get out of the base. He made to put the phone in his pocket, but it only made half the journey and fell to the floor. Darren didn't notice and ran down the hall to freedom.
* * *
Jimmy La Salle was having a good day. Threatening the Biker. Getting a brand new shipment of weapons. Throwing a party for the Ghoul. Receiving an ancient power. Hew was on a roll today! The only way to end this day would be threatening the Biker again, then fire their fireworks (you probably know who they got them from) into the sky. But for now he'd settle for emptying his bladder.
He tried to open the door of the toilets but it was stuck. "Damn it, not again!" he yelled, kicking the door. Now he had to go all the way upstairs to get the crowbar! He stormed up the stairs and was about to go into room A20 when he noticed the phone on the floor. He grimaced with anger when he realized what had been done and who had done it.
* * *
Meanwhile the Biker was packing his stuff away into his rucksack, eyes alight with happiness at finding out a lot of valuable information. Okay, he thought as he readied himself to slide down the rope to the ground, here goes. Just as he was about to jump his phone rang. He steadied himself on the roof before answering it. It was Darren. "Darren!" he said scornfully. This is a REALLY bad time to call!" No answer. The Biker frowned. "Darren?" he said loudly into the receiver.
"Biker," said Jimmy's voice. Jake's blood ran cold. "Where's Darren?" he asked firmly.
There was a laugh that would have put the Joker to shame. "We have him," said Jimmy smugly. "Come get him. But if you've never seen a human brain outside someone's head, and don't want to, you'd better hurry." He laughed again, this one dripping with malice.
The Biker immediately shoved his phone into his pocket and ran over to the next skylight, which was above a hallway on the next floor. He dropped down and looked around. No sign of Darren. The Biker was terrified for his stepbrother. This was HIS mess; Darren shouldn't have been in it. When he got Darren back, maybe he would even consider dropping his alter ego. He's had enough excitement to last him a lifetime already, why would he need more?
The Biker moved stealthily along the corridor, opening every door. He didn't even see his bike when he looked in A22. That's how badly he wanted to find Darren. Eventually his nerve broke and he shouted "Darren!" No answer. "DARREN!" he shouted again.
Nothing. He was about to shout it again when a huge fist came out of nowhere and connected with his gut, knocking the air out of him. He staggered back and looked up to see his attacker. It was a huge, muscley guy. A skinny guy and Jimmy flanked him. "Hey guys," said Jimmy with an evil grin. "Let's show this nut job the consequences of breaking and entering."
The two other boys shared his grin, and then lunged at the Biker. The hero launched himself into the air, allowing the boy to pass under him and kicked the skinny one in the back of the head. The teenagers turned around, the skinny one rubbing his shaved head with a scowl. They lunged at him again, and the Biker passed under the big one's legs and kicked him in the left buttock. The guy fell forward on the ground. "He's making fools of you!" hissed Jimmy. "Don't attack together, do it one at a time!" The muscly guy lunged at the Biker and swung his fist around. The Biker ducked. "Whoa! Low bridge," he said. Before he could straighten in time, the skinny guy performed a kick that connected squarely with his jaw. The Biker fell to the floor. "Get him, NOW" Jimmy screamed. The teenagers attacked with a hail of punches and kicks. The Biker managed to get up, but was unsteady on his legs. The skinny guy kicked him in the shin but before he could hit the ground the muscley guy grabbed his arm and threw him like a rag doll. The Biker yelped as he hit the wall and crumpled to the ground.
The next minute was hell for him. They hit him so much that he barely registered the next wave of punches and kicks. Jimmy stepped up. "If you're lucky," he said, "I might consider letting you go." The Biker looked up at him. "If I were you, I'd consider firing my fashion consultant. Is that jacket supposed to be hip, or….?" Jimmy's face twisted in anger and he kicked the Biker in the stomach.
The Biker clutched it, groaning. The teenagers dragged him into a room and tied him to a chair. With a gesture from Jimmy the other two teenagers left the room, closing the door behind them. "So", said Jimmy. "So," muttered the Biker. "How about the weather?"
"Who cares about the weather?" Jimmy grimaced. "What about my new power?" The Biker rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah," he sighed. "The ability to sense the dark. Am I one of the dark then?" Jimmy closed his eyes and screwed up his face. The Biker stared at him in silent ridicule. Jimmy opened his eyes and looked at the Biker smugly. "Yes," he announced. "Yes you are. I can feel the coldness". The Biker rolled his eyes again. "You can feel the coldness because the air conditioning is on, you dope." Jimmy snarled and kicked the Biker in his most sensitive spot. The Biker doubled over and moaned.
"What are you going to do now?" said the Biker faintly. "Bind me in a silver chain and throw salt and iron at me?" Jimmy grinned. "You've read the books," he said. "Not like I'm surprised or anything." He held up Jake's book and he flinched. "Calm down," said Jimmy, frowning. "I'm not going to tear it up or anything. It's our bible, y'know." The Biker moaned in agony. "Religious maniac," he said. Jimmy kicked him in the face, knocking him out.
* * *
Meanwhile, Darren was getting worried. It was an hour since he came home and still no sign of the Biker. Darren was thinking all sorts of thoughts. Had he fallen off the roof? Had he knocked himself out with his gas again? Or maybe he'd been nabbed? Darren sighed and scratched his tanned face. Or maybe he'd been stupid enough to try and steal the bike back. Just a little longer, he decided, and settled back in his swivel chair.
* * *
The Biker opened his eyes. Sunlight shone through the window, increasing his headache. He groaned. Every inch of his body was aching. No blood, but that didn't mean he wasn't hurt. He noticed that the bottom had been cut out of the chair. He looked to the left. There was a thick rope with a knot at the end hanging on the wall. This was so horribly familiar.
Jimmy walked into the room. He gestured at the rope, grinning. "After our mass, I'll be doing a Casino Royale on you." The Biker gave a muffled whimper. "Moan all you want, Biker; you're going to die anyway. This day is a historic day. The day when we unleash our power on the world. When we rule the world, this'll be a national holiday. Hell, an international holiday," The Biker wasn't listening. His head was spinning. Before he knew it he was being hit again. Over and over. At the end of the hurting session he could feel blood running all over his body. He hardly noticed Jimmy leaving the room. He was alone. His confidence was fading away. No he thought firmly. Of all the people to crack me, he of all people won't be the one. Then he gave in. Oh, what's the use? I'm useless. I'm going to die. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood and soaking his mask further.
He heard a sound. The statue of the Ghoul was talking. He would have frowned if he could. The walkie talkie was still on the roof. Then he heard a scream. Darren! He was being hurt! That proved to the Biker that he was useless. He couldn't even break out of a simple rope and escape out an unlocked door to save his step-brother from a small-time gang. He was useless. "HELP!" he screamed. "HEEEEEELP! HELP! HEEEEEEEEL-" he choked on blood and fell silent.
Meanwhile, Darren and Stan were carrying out a rough plan. Stan had found the walkie talkie on the roof, and was now looking through the skylight. "You have made me very angry, my apprentices," he growled into the walkie talkie. Jimmy was shocked. "Wh-what have we done, Master?" he asked. Stan sniggered before continuing. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? YOU HAVE THE CHOSEN ONE LOCKED IN A ROOM UPSTAIRS, THAT'S WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!!" Jimmy frowned. "The chosen one?" he said, puzzled. His eyes widened in shock. "No," he muttered faintly. His face twisted in anger. "NO!!!" he screamed. "NOT HIM!!! WHAT DID HE DO? I CARED FOR YOU AND WORSHIPPED YOU AND DID WHAT YOU ASKED. NOT TO MENTION THE PARTY! THE PARTY!!!" Stan sighed into the walkie talkie. "Oh, lad," he said sorrowfully. "You really shouldn't have done that. Now one of you will have to die." Jimmy's eyes widened, and then Darren screamed in false agony and fell off his bench.
The Ghoul was silent for a moment, along with the rest of the hall. "Who's next?" the Ghoul asked mockingly. The result was a spider found in a girl's sleeping bag on a sleepover. Screams of terror echoed through the hall. As they all rushed for the door, Darren stood up and made for the door in the corner of the room. No one would notice his miraculous rebirth in this commotion, and once he was through the door he heard frantic cries for help. He started running up the stairs to follow them, but then they were cut short by a choking sound. He was too late!
On the roof Stan was watching the commotion with a big grin on his face. He wouldn't have ever been able to do this even if he wanted to! Their plan was working perfectly, even though it had been cobbled together within ten minutes. Cool. He was about to get off the roof when he heard a shout: "HEY!!!" He looked through the skylight as the screaming and commotion stopped instantly. Stan frowned. Where had his screaming and commotion gone? He noticed that Jimmy had been the one to shout, interrupting the evacuation. The plan was starting to snowball…
"I was wrong!" said Jimmy in defeat. "The Ghoul was right. I deserve to be punished. But please, Lord, take mercy on these innocent souls!" Stan raised an eyebrow. Innocent? Far from it! "Then," said Stan, "I'll have to take you, Jimmy. I'm sending a ghost to relieve you of your power. You brought this upon yourself." Stan grinned so much that his face looked like it was split in half. At last! The part he had been waiting for. He picked up the rope lying beside him and pulled it. Somewhere in the hall, a knot was being pulled loose. The crowd gasped as a figure dressed in white sheets fell from the rafters and swung on invisible wires towards Jimmy.
Jimmy screamed like a girl and started running, but he was too late. The "ghost" got him in the back, knocking him to the ground. Then it dug its fingernails into Jimmy's temples. "NO!" he screamed, thrashing about. "My power! Master, no!" Then Stan pulled the rope and the ghost shot through the air towards the skylight. Stan helped the ghost onto the roof.
"Well done, Tony!" Stan laughed. "That was brilliant!" Darren's brother pulled the sheets from his head and joined in with the laughter.
* * *
"Biker!" Darren shouted. "Where are you?" Silence. Coldness was creeping up his spine. He had a very bad feeling. He opened the door to room A34. Nothing. A35: Nothing. A36: Nothing. A37: Nothing. He was beginning to think that he had been fooled, but that thought disappeared when he opened the door to B6. "Biker!" Darren gasped, half in relief, half in shock. The Biker was tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Blood seeped out of various places on his body, staining his costume. His legs looked incredibly weak, and one of his fingers was at an awkward angle. "Oh, God," Darren gasped.
"What did he do to you?" The Biker raised his head slowly. "Darren," he said faintly, and his muscles sagged. Unconscious. Great. Darren pulled out his penknife and sliced through the rope. The Biker fell forward, into his arms. "Easy," soothed Darren gently. "Let's get you out of here." He dragged the Biker out of the room and laid him down on the landing. He opened the door to A22 and grinned.
* * *
"I'm okay, you idiots!" snapped Jimmy, pushing away his co members. "Bring me the hostage from B5." Stan snickered. They wouldn't find any hostage there! Stan picked up the walkie talkie and opened his mouth to say something, and the device dropped from his hand. He clamped a hand to his mouth as the walkie talkie hit the ground with a clatter, which echoed through the hall. Several heads turned. Jimmy's head shot towards the direction of the sound. "What was that?" he asked the air.
He noticed several people gathered around a small space of ground, and knew that something had fallen there. "Give it to me!" Jimmy ordered. The walkie talkie was passed through the crowd until it reached him. He examined it, and realized what it was. He pressed the button and spoke into it. Stan held his breath, but no sound emanated from the statue. He let out his breath. The walkie talkie was broken!
He watched as Jimmy tried to communicate with the non-existent person on the other end of the line. Eventually his face twisted in anger and he smashed the walkie talkie on the ground, triggering a wince from Stan.
He looked around the room of unsure faces. "You do know what this means, don't you?" he said. The members looked at each other in confusion. Jimmy sighed in exasperation. "We have intruders! Squad A, search the building!" As a team of six teenagers rushed out of the room, Stan took out his mobile phone and called Darren. "Hello?" his friend said. "Darren!" Stan exclaimed. Where are you? Did you get him?"
"Yep. He was in B6." Stan frowned. B6? But hadn't Jimmy said that the hostage was in B5? He pushed the thought out of his head. "Get out of there, fast," he said worriedly. "We've been found out."
"I'll be there in a minute." And he hung up.
Meanwhile, the six teenagers, A.K.A. "Squad A" were running up the stairs. How could anyone get in? That's what they were thinking as they reached the corridor. They barely had time to search the first room when a bike burst out of A22. Squad A recognized the person steering the bike as a member of the gang. Tied to his back was one of the hostages: The Biker. Member or not, no one broke a hostage out! The team pulled out hand guns but they were too late. Darren threw a rope at a member, who caught it automatically and stared at it as if it was poisonous. Darren circled the gormless teenagers until they were tightly wrapped in a nylon cord. Darren jumped from the bike and tied a knot, tapping the one who had caught the rope on the head. "Thanks," he laughed, jumping onto the bike and cycling down the stairs. He performed a wheelie and the front wheel knocked the door open. The teenagers looked around. Darren felt slightly uneasy with a thousand pair of eyes on him, but ploughed on. Teenagers were blocking the front door. Oh, crap he thought. "So," Jimmy said wearily. "Trying to bust your pal out of certain death, are we? But, as you can see, it won't work. Half of the members in the world are here. What chance do you and your unconscious friend have against us?" Darren thought for a moment, then drew the bomb from the Biker's belt.
The crowd gasped. "This is a bomb," Darren said honestly. "One step out of line and I blow you sky high. So," he said, turning to the teenagers blocking the door. They immediately shuffled out of the way. "Thank you," Darren said, smiling mockingly. At that moment a secret door opened in the altar and a teenager emerged with a girl. Her raven black hair was matted and dirty and her body was bruised, but Darren recognized her instantly. He gasped. "Jane!"
Jimmy grinned with malice. "You know this brat" he breathed, insanity in his eyes. "Good." He seized Jane by the hair and pulled her towards him. She looked terrified. "Now you get to watch her die." He pulled a gun from his jacket and pointed it at the poor girl and she whimpered. Darren untied the Biker from his back and laid him on the ground. "Let her go," demanded Darren. "She isn't a part of this."
"She is now," said Jimmy manically, spittle flecking his lips. "Give me the Biker now and I might consider letting you live. No, wait, I won't. It's too late for that."
Jimmy thumbed the hammer. Jane squealed and tears ran down her face. "Don't you see?" Jimmy giggled. "This is what comes of trespassing!" The Biker stirred. "Jane," he murmured weakly. Then he got to his feet. "Jane!" he yelled angrily. With a burst of new energy, he took a gun from the belt around Darren's waist. "Biker, no!" Darren hissed. The Biker fired the gun, but not at Jimmy. A small hook attached to a nylon cord shot from the barrel and buried itself in the wall. He pressed a button and he zoomed through the air, over the heads of many bewildered gang members. When he reached the altar he fell to the floor. He picked himself up and balanced on unsteady legs.
"Let her go," he said to Jimmy's face, trying to sound firm but failing. "Why should I?" Jimmy laughed. The Biker rummaged in his pockets until he found what he was looking for: a needle. Without warning he plunged it into Jimmy's neck. Jimmy screamed in agony and fell to the ground, twitching. "Electro dart," the Biker mumbled. "Works every time." He removed the gag from Jane's mouth. "Thank you," she cried gratefully. The Biker looked at her, though she wasn't sure if he was behind those eyepieces. "You're very welcome," he replied. "What are you waiting for?" snarled Jimmy, standing up. "Get them!" The gang advanced. The Biker kicked the statue of the Ghoul and it fell on top of the members in front. As the rest of the gang were distracted, Darren took the opportunity to plough through the congregation on the bike until he reached the Biker. "Need a ride?" asked Darren, jumping off the bike. "Do I ever!" the Biker replied, jumping onto the saddle. As Darren and Jane got on, the Biker froze and said, "Darren, where's the bomb?" The gang, who had been, until then, sneaking up on the three kids, froze and looked around. "It's here!" a member yelled, pointing at the spiky ball. It was beside the pillar in the centre of the room. After a moment of shock, there were a dozen screams and the gang rushed out. There was an explosion, and the wooden pillar splintered and broke.
"I think it's time we got the hell out of here," said Darren. "I think so too," the Biker replied, and started cycling. Unfortunately the pillar had been the only thing keeping the place up, and the roof buckled. Bits of debris flew everywhere. By now the last dregs of gang members were spilling out, but the three were nowhere near the door. "Go faster!" Jane squealed as part of the roof fell in. "Can't," panted the Biker, his weak legs and the extra weight on the bike taking its toll on him. The walls collapsed. "PRESS THE GREEN BUTTON!" Darren screamed. "IT HASN'T BEEN TESTED YET!" the Biker screamed back. "THE BOMB WORKED, DIDN'T IT?" Darren roared as the roof fell. "PRESS THE DAMN BUTTON!!!" The Biker pressed the button and the motor kicked in, pushing the bike on at a ridiculous speed. Almost there… They weren't going to make it. The roof was falling even faster than the bike was going. Come on! You can do this Jake thought. What kind of blooming superhero are you if you can't do this? His back ached. His legs screamed for him to stop. His head wanted him to fall unconscious again, to catch up on sleep. Jake thought of Darren. He was his stepbrother. Darren was relying on him to do this. Jane- Oh so pretty and smart. If he didn't get her out of there, he would never forgive himself. Ever. She was relying on him to do this too. So do thishis brain said. For them. Think about them. Let them fill you with strength. That's what real superheroes do. Are you a real superhero? Think about it this way; how are you ever going to have Jane's babies if you die? Jake grimaced. Ew, you are so gross, he thought. I'm going to get you when I get out of here. Jake was filled with energy and shot forward. They all screamed as the bike shot out of the door, and the roof hit the ground with a thunderous crash behind them. The Biker pulled the brakes, trying to skid, but the bike fell over and they all toppled to the ground. They all looked at each other, then at what was left of the building, and burst out laughing. "What are we laughing at?" Darren gasped between bouts of hysterical laughter.
"I… dunno," replied the Biker. "But it must be something funny!" They waited for a minute until the laughter died down. "God, that was good," sighed Jane. "I suppose we should be getting back," the Biker said, getting up to examine his bike. His face fell. "Oh, shoot," he groaned glumly. "I've got a puncture! And these are special tires. Replacements would be about fifty euro, and I haven't got that. I don't even have a way to make that!" Jane stepped towards him. "Maybe you do," she said eagerly.
* * *
Jake woke up the next morning in his own bed. He looked over at his clock and yelped. It was midday! He was still aching all over, but he forced himself to get up. He kicked the sheets off and sat up, rubbing his side gingerly. He looked at the splint on his finger. "Auntie Em, I just had the strangest dream," he grinned. He trudged down the stairs. No one else seemed to be up. As he reached the end of the stairs and was about to go into the kitchen, he spotted a white rectangle lying on the ground under the letterbox. It was the Chapel Gate Times. Jake frowned. It was a bit early, wasn't it? He bent down, with difficulty, and picked it up. "Emergency special issue" said a banner along the top of the page. Jake snickered. The Chapel Gate Times? Special?
He walked into the sitting room and opened the curtains, letting warm morning light into the room. He sat down to read. "EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW" said the first half of the headline. Who could be stupid (and important) enough to let themselves be interviewed by that rag? Then he read the second half: "WITH THE BIKER!" The grin slid from his face as he remembered everything. He shrugged. It would still make an interesting read.
This guy has it all; He's smart, funny, brave and risked his life to save mine. And even after doing so, he still sits down and gives this interview. He can do it all. I start with the easiest question: Why are you doing this? He shrugs casually. "People deserve better around here." And do you think that you've given them better? He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't really know," he admits. "I prefer to think that I haven't, to give myself motivation to be better the next day." Smart, funny, brave AND modest. Next question: Do you like doing what you do? He sits up straight. "Yes," he says. "Yes, I do. I love it. It's so refreshing, I won't ever have wrinkles. Stuff the facial cream!" I laugh, and I can almost see the grateful look in his eyes. Moving on: What has been the most dangerous escapade you've gone through? He tilts his head. "I think you know that," he says playfully. I do. I really, really do. So, now that the most feared gang in the town has disbanded, thanks to you, the crime has cleared up considerably. What now? The Biker relaxes slightly. "I have no idea," he says honestly. "Maybe I'll move on to the town. There isn't much crime there, but that's as far as we know." I can feel him winking behind the eyepieces. Finally: When you were saving me, and it looked like we weren't going to make it, what gave you the power to push on at the last minute? He looks at me. "Because," he begins, "I was being relied on. Everything was up to me, and I had to get you out of there. It was the end of the world. The walls were closing in. Literally. And then I thought how much I wanted, not needed, to get you out. Then I was filled with so much energy that I was almost sure I would explode, and here we are." There is a short silence as I write my notes. I'm not really writing my notes, I was finished as he finished- I'm thinking of those nice words he said. He really does have it all. He's smart, funny, brave and modest. And he has the nicest sense of honesty. His hand reaches for his pocket. "Oops," he says, visibly embarrassed. "Pager's buzzing. Got to go." And he jumps out the window. I can only wonder where he went, but whatever it was I'm sure
it was for a good reason. This world desperately needs a hero, and I know with all my heart that this person is one.
Interview by Jane Hartley.
Jake laid down the newspaper with a smile. Jane- Pretty strong-minded, nice AND deep. SHE had it all. He stood up and walked towards the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of Coco Pops. He knew he should have been having porridge, but he felt he deserved this small treat. He was a superhero, after all.
* * *
Jimmy le Salle was sitting in a café. People he thought, sneering. So organized, but brainless. Like ants. He despised other people, but he needed aid on his mission. That's why he was now recruiting. And the first person to die would be the Biker. He had destroyed his base, his master and some of his valuable research. This new gang would be deadlier. Stronger. But if they wanted to strike fear into the hearts of others, they couldn't remain nameless. But picking a name was so hard. So hard it was almost ghoulish. It was at that moment Jimmy knew what they would be called.
THE END?
13.8.2008-20.8.2008