Chapter 29

Just for Kicks

or

Best Foot Forward

Now this was more like it, Jack thought as he regarded himself in the three-way mirror. Since his defeat of Temper a week ago (a feat that still astounded him), Jack had gained a huge boost in confidence.

Well, it wasn't so much a "defeat" as it was scoring a lucky hit, then taking advantage of it to make his escape, then laying low for a few days while fencing his ill-gotten gains. Still, six of one, etcetera. He had, if only momentarily, scored a victory over a superhero, which meant he had arrived. And that meant it was time for a wardrobe upgrade. The black coveralls and ski-mask, while practical and cheap, were not befitting of a real supervillain. Springheel Jack (he would make the name stick if it killed him) deserved a wardrobe fit for the gentleman thief he was.

And so, he had acquired (from one of those places that sells prom outfits) a powder-blue silk tux, black shirt, and white ascot and cummerbund, completing the look with a matching top had and an ornate Venitian-style Carnivale mask, in red and gold to match the boots.

Well, now that he had his look down, it was time to step up his game, find a heist worthy of himself. These penny-ante crimes just would not do for a criminal of his calibre.

He scanned his news feed, which was programmed automatically to forward him news of his own exploits. A Hillwood Gazette front page covering his humiliation of Temper (the headline: "CHICKENING OUT? SUPERHEROINE GETS SERVED WITH SIDE OF WAFFLES" complete with viral photo of the heroine herself lying in the wreckage of the salad bar) now served as his desktop wallpaper. The first of many triumphs, to be sure. He scanned the local news for potential ideas, when his eyes fell upon an exhibit at the Guggelfleim Museum.

THE GUGGELFLEIM PRESENTS

LESSER-KNOWN MASTERPIECES

The Guggelfleim Museum is pleased to announce the acquisition of several little-known pieces from well-known artists, recently donated from the collection of philanthropist Randall Peavine. The works include Gainsborough's Mauve Boy, Whistler's Second Cousin Once Removed, Van Gogh's Slightly Overcast Night, Munch's The Grimace, and Rembrandt's The Weekend Watch, among others. The collection will be launched with an exclusive invitation-only event tomorrow evening.

Invitation only, hmm? Well, uncouth as it was to crash a party, perhaps this was just the sort of thing that would put Springheel Jack's career on the map.

Four days earlier, at Slausen's

-HELGA-

Three nights. Three nights since the Jumpster (I was no longer laughing) had humiliated me. Three fruitless, pointless nights while the world was laughing at me. Three nights without even a peep out of the guy. For all I knew, he was gone with the wind, and with him my chance to redeem myself.

The videos and photos of me crashing through a chicken place's window and colliding with a salad bar, of course, were all over the internet. Overnight, I had gone from hero to meme. Late-night hosts were using me as a punchline. It was aggravating.

"Well, now you know how it felt that time I, um…"

"…farted in front of the whole school?" I supplied.

"Yes… that," Phoebe replied, a bit snippy.

"That was different. There weren't frickin' newspaper headlines. There aren't a dozen 'Epic Fail' compilations featuring you all over TubeTube." I eyed the slowly-melting triple-scoop banana split in front of me. Even ice cream wasn't helping today. Even ice cream paid for by someone else. "Face it, I'm a laughingstock. I'm a city-wide joke *sigh* And for all I know, he's split town and I'll never be able to catch him and clear my rep."

Rhonda groaned. "We took you out to cheer you up, not so you could wallow."

"Well, can you blame me? The guy was a joke. He acted all pompous-like, like one of those 'gentleman thieves' from those animes that you girls love so much, but he was this shrimpy dork in cheap thief clothing. And he still got the best of me! And now everyone's laughing at me and I won't be able to get past it until I take him down, and so far I've seen neither hide nor hair of him!"

"I'm certain this will all blow over, eventually," Lila attempted to assure, with a sympathetic shoulder pat.

"Maybe, but I'll always remember it, and it's just going to eat at me until I get another crack at him… and who knows when that'll be."

Nadine, who had been silent the entire time, suddenly snapped her fingers. "Honeypot!" she said.

"Ewww!" I replied. "You want me to try to seduce him? Gross!"

"No, no, not that," Nadine responded. "I mean, we need to lure him. Offer something he can't resist. You said he has these pretentions of being some kind of flashy master thief?"

"Yeah…"

"Well… what if we set up this opportunity for him to pull a flashy heist, complete with an audience? You know… plant something in the news, and just wait for him to show up so you can have your chance to collar him?"

"Hmmm," Rhonda replied, rubbing her chin. "My father does have contacts at the Guggelfleim… perhaps I can ask him to set up some kind of short-notice event to catch our friend's attention?"

"Yes…" nodded Phoebe. "While Helga conceals herself until he appears, then nabs him when the time comes."

"Nadine and I can act as lookouts, under the cover of being the daughter of a wealthy donor and her date. That is, if it's okay with you, Butterfly…"

"Honestly, it's just kinda nice to be involved for once," Nadine answered. "Even if I do have to dress up."

"Fake gallery event?" I scoffed. "That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard. Let's do it."

Five Days Later, the Guggelfleim

-RHONDA-

True to my word, I had explained the plan to my dad. It turned out that the museum had, in fact, recently received a donation so an event actually was in the works. I convinced him to persuade the museum staff to move up the date for the installation in exchange for certain… concessions (I wouldn't be going on any big shopping sprees anytime soon), but in the end, arrangements were made and announcements were placed. And soon, the day came.

"I feel so out of place," whispered Nadine as the two of us entered the gallery.

"Well, if it's any consolation, you look positively radiant." Nadine blushed at the compliment. She wore a rather simple sapphire cocktail dress, accented by some jewelry we'd "borrowed" from my mom. Her gold braids were gathered into an elaborate French knot. I myself wore a red-and-black off-the-shoulder gown and a diamond pendant with matching earrings. We made a lovely couple, if I must say so myself.

"Still, this isn't exactly my crowd, if you know what I mean," she replied.

"I know. I owe you big for tonight. I promise, next time we'll do any gross nature thing you want to do, no matter how disgusting."

"Oh, that's okay, you don't-" She paused. "Welllll, I did want to go check out Povenmire Marsh sometime… get a good look at the ecosystem there so I can get a jump on my AP Biology work."

I shuddered inwardly. I did say "anything"… "As you wish."

"Besides, I should probably get used to it. Being your girlfriend probably means I'm going to wind up at a lot of these things just by default."

"Wanna know the truth?" I asked. "I don't enjoy these things nearly as much as I let on. They can be dreadfully boring. To be perfectly honest… I have more fun camping with you than I do going to cocktail parties alone."

"Be honest… it's not so much the camping that you have fun with."

"Ha! Got me. I'm just saying, being with you makes me appreciate things that I would otherwise find unbearable."

"Awww…."

The two of us entered the main gallery, which was already starting to fill up with the cream of Hillwood society. I had to wonder what they'd think if they knew they were all here for an elaborate trap.

"Ooh, hey," Nadine whispered, nudging me. "I think I found some art I like," she said, noting a display of nature photos. "Check out this hummingbird. You can really see the detail."

"Oh, yeah, Alan Redmond. Yeah, he's got a really good eye for capturing color and motion. You know, technically, his dad is your boss."

"I don't really know art, I just know what I like. Ooh. Something else I like. Free finger foods." She made a beeline to a waiter handing out shrimp puffs. I had to admit, even for a fake event, they were really selling it.

On a neighboring rooftop, behind a billboard, Helga was keeping watch on the exterior of the museum. If the Jumpter approached from the outside, Helga would intercept him and take him out. The two of us were here if he somehow managed to get inside unseen. Until then, there really was nothing to do but mingle, nibble, and keep watch. Both of us were equipped with a concealed microphone; the second anything went down, Helga would be alerted and come in through the skylight, which had been rigged by Bridget to open for Helga, to handle the situation.

Time dragged on, and I was starting to wonder if maybe the bad guy had seen through this sham. For all any of us knew, he really was clever enough to have skipped town at the first opportunity, and all this was just a waste of time. As the party dragged into the second hour, I grew more convinced that that was the case. My attention began to wander, and I got lost in a Mondrian, not looking where I was going, bumping into another patron. "Oops, sorry, my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going…"

"No, it's fine, I understand Mondrian's work can be quite captivating – oh, my stars, how unexpected!"

I recognized the voice immediately. "Mr. Simmons?" Well, this was an awkward situation. I had to remind myself Mr. Simmons hasn't been my teacher in over five years, because the familiar panic of running into your teacher outside of school was beginning to well up.

"That it is, Rhonda, and I must say, it's a very special pleasure to run into one of my old students. How have you been?"

"Oh, you know… studying… keeping my grades up… staying on the straight and narrow…"

Mr. Simmons chuckled. "Oh, I get it, the old 'randomly running into your old teacher in public' awkwardness. Well, there's no reason to worry, Rhonda. Out here, I'm just Robert Simmons, art appreciator. There's no reason for any awkwardness."

I chuckled nervously myself. "Right, right… besides, it's not like you're going to be teaching me again anytime soon…"

"Actually, I'm pleased to say that I've accepted a position teaching drama at South Hillwood High this coming year, so it's quite possible that I will be your teacher this semester. Isn't that wonderful? He squinted past me. "Oh, is Nadine here too?"

"Yes, she's… here with me, actually. She's my, uh, date."

"Oh, that's wonderful! I had no idea the two of you were together."

"It's been a few years, actually…"

"Oh, I remember when I first met my Peter… those heady first days of what would one day become a lasting and special relationship… there's nothing quite like that…"

"Yes, it's very exciting…" Oh lord please deliver me from discussing relationships with my teacher… where's a supervillain attack when you need one?

The case for the existence of a supreme being got another checkmark as a swift blur made its way through the crowd and suddenly, he was there. Helga'd described his outfit as fairly dull and utilitarian with the exception of the boots, but apparently in the week or so since their last encounter, the Jumpster had decided to go for a wardrobe upgrade and was now clad in pseudo-Edwardian finery, complete with top hat, Carnivale mask, and an ornate walking stick for that extra layer of pretentiousness. Surreptitiously, my hand slipped into my handbag seeking the small transmitter Bridget had rigged for us, to signal Helga.

"Greetings, Ladies and Gentlemen of Hillwood's fine society, It is my pleasure to inform you that this gallery is about to have the honor of being robbed by yours truly, Spr-"

"Oh, my word, that must be the fellow that all the pares have been talking about… the Jumpster!" one society matron exclaimed

"…yes, well, I would prefer it if you all would call me 'Springheel Jack,' as 'The Jumpster' is a stupid name. Now, if you don't mind, I believe I shall be claiming these Old Masters, so if you would kindly step out of my way…"

I was trying to think of a way to stall the guy so Helga would have the time to show up, but I needn't have bothered, because either Mr. Simmons had gotten the same idea, or his natural desire to help people had prompted him to intervene; in either case, he raised his had, as if life was just a larger classroom, and cleared his throat. "Uh… Mr…. Jack? Is all of this really necessary?"

"Excuse me?" the thief asked, bemused.

"I mean, it seems to me that all this is just an elaborate cry for attention. Now, I understand that we all have our own way of expressing ourselves, and this is how you choose to express yourself, and that's okay… but you have to take care that your manner of self-expression doesn't harm others."

"Oh, I assure you, my good man, I have no intention of hurting anyone. I am not a crude man."

"Yes, well, while it's admirable that you want to avoid causing physical harm, you must understand that depriving the public of these priceless works of art is itself a kind of harm. Surely you don't want to b responsible for that, do you?"

"Yes, well, though it does distress me that my actions will deprive the public of such masterworks, I believe that in doing so, I shall create something even more valuable… a deeper appreciation of their worth."

Yeesh. What a windbag this guy was. C'mon, Helga…

-HELGA-

Being alone on a rooftop waiting gives you a lot of time to reflect on yourself and your motivations. Like, what was the point of this whole operation? We set up this whole fake event and invited people to make it look official, all in an effort to lure a supervillain out of hiding. I'd assumed, from his courtly demeanor, that the Jumpster was nonviolent and wouldn't harm civilians, but what if I was wrong? What if people got hurt because of this? And for what, anyway? My reputation? Have I learned nothing? For years, I acted like a jerk to protect my reputation, and in the end, what did it get me? Heartache. Nothing but heartache. And yet, here I am taking huge risks with the public because people posted some stupid memes.

Unfortunately, at this point it was far too late to call things off. Either he showed up, or he didn't. If he didn't, then he'd be the One that Got Away, and I'd have a blot on my record, but really, who cares?

…damn it, I did. Even knowing how selfish it was to be this concerned with my reputation, I still knew that this sort of thing would eat away at me. I really did need to learn to let go of things, but… knowing you needed to do it and actually doing it were two very different things.

As I kept watch and waited for the beep in my earpiece that would signal action, I devised elaborate mindgames to keep my mind off my moral dilemma. Pick a random word and think up as many rhymes as I could. Attempt to reconstruct entire Simpsons episodes purely from memory. Try to remember all the tracks from my ten favorite albums. Honesty, at this point, I wasn't sure whether pointless mental busywork was an improvement over endless recursions of self-admonishment. Either way, I was bored. I should have brought a boo. Or a snack, or both, preferably.

After about an hour, I was fairly sure that the whole thing had amounted to a waste of time. I was just about to text the girls to pull out when I caught a blur out of the corner of my eye headed toward the museum entrance. Could this be it, or was my boredom making me see things? I got my answer a minute later when my signal went off.

"Showtime, Bridgi. Open the hatch," I said as I leapt off the rooftop. "Please," I added, not really wanting to deal with unneeded snark from the AI at this point.

All right. This was it. All the memes in the world can't ruin a really badass entrance, and dropping dramatically through a skylight, wings majestically spread behind you, as you nail a perfect landing in the middle of a crowd certainly qualified.

"Well. It seems we meet again," the Jumpster said as I landed. "Couldn't get enough of me, I assume."

"You're right. I couldn't get enough of hauling your ass to jail. Let's fix that, shall we? Nice outfit by the way."

"Yes, I think it suits me. Shall we dance?" he inquired, raising his walking stick as if it was a sword. I hesitated, wondering if he'd added a new gimmick to his arsenal. Did the stick do anything? There was no way of knowing unless he did anything with it. I could use my fire powers, but I didn't want to indoors for fear of triggering the sprinklers and damaging any artwork. And so, we stood there for a moment, assessing each other, waiting for someone to make the first move.

And then Nadine threw a shrimp puff at him from behind. It was just enough of a distraction that I was able to clear the distance between us and grab his wrist, forcing him to drop the stick, while planting my feet on his, effectively nullifying half his arsenal. "Gotcha," I said.

"Well, that's hardly fair," He said. "Though I can't help but notice your lips are quite close to mine."

"Ugh. Gross,", I said. I fluttered up a little, lifting him off the ground and giving him nothing to kick off of. He tried flailing with his feet, ineffectively. "I think it's time for a trip downtown, where we can get you fitted for some more prison-approved footwear," I added as I ascended back toward the skylight.

"Y-you're going to fly me there?" He whimpered nervously, his pompous "Gentleman thief" persona's bravado evaporating. "Please… please don't. I-I'm scared of heights."

"Are you kidding me? You've been leaping tall buildings for days and you're just now telling me you're scared of heights? You expect me to believe that?"

"It's true! The fact is… I closed my eyes every time I jumped."

"Well, then, you should probably keep them closed for the rest of the flight. Just a warning… I fly a lot slower when I'm carrying someone, so this trip might take a while."

"Well, that was kind of anticlimactic," I commented as we all met for breakfast the next morning.

"You defused the situation with a minimum of physical violence and no property damage. Honestly, you couldn't ask for a better outcome," Phoebe remarked. Spread out before her was the Hillwood Gazette's article on the event, headlined: "JUMPSTER"S CAREER IN DUMPSTER: TEMPER FOILS WOULD-BE THEIF".

"Yeah, well, I was kind of expecting something a little more epic. I can't remember the last time I had a real challenge, like an alien biker or a pair of French superheroes…"

"I was kind of possessed by a demon butterfly at the time," Rhonda explained. "Long story and I don't even remember most of it."

"In any case, I can't even take credit for all of it. Nadine deserves some of the credit for that well-timed shrimp puff."

"I'm no hero," she demurred. "I just saw an opportunity and threw an hors d'oeuvre at it. To be honest, the real hero was Mr. Simmons. He kept the guy distracted until you got there. Frankly, without him, this all could have wound up a huge Jumpster fire."

*huge groan from all involved*

"You've been waiting forever to use that pun, haven't you," I accused.

"Guilty as charged," Nadine replied, hands up.

"You know, I've heard some people say that bad puns are grounds for a breakup," I joked.

"She's put up with a lot worse from me," replied Rhonda.

"It's true," Nadine added. "You could say we're both gluttons for punishment."

"You two deserve each other," I grumbled.

Connecticut

Clayton Wendell eyed the array of photos that his PI had sent him. He was not a man who rushed int things… he knew it would soon be time to get in contact with his granddaughter, but before that, he wanted to know everything he could about her.

What he had found was, frankly, disturbing. In many of the photos the PI had sent him, Rhonda was accompanied by a particular girl. Not only was this particular girl clearly of the more undesirable elements of society, but from the context, it seemed their relationship was more than friendly. Obviously, Barbara had not instilled proper moral values in her daughter if this was the result. Something would have to be done about that. And soon… his time was running out.

A.N.: Ooh, ominous. Anyway, yes, the end to the Jumpst- er, Springheel Jack's arc is decidedly less than exciting, but then, he wasn't much of a villain.

Also, I really should finish that crossover sometime, shouldn't I…

Jose: Like I said, we're not exactly dealing with Moriarty here. Springheel Jack was just a dork who lucked into a magical artifact and got in over his head.

Veganmama: Thanks as long as you'r entertained I'm happy, even if I get too obscure sometimes.

JayDogg: Thanks for keeping up, hope you enjoyed the denouement of the Lila arc and everything that came after.

Next: Indecent Opposal