14 - Stupid Reflexes

Atlas Park, the landmark of Paragon City. Its dominated by a giant statue of the late hero Atlas, and its usually the first awe-inspiring sight of many for rookie heroes new to the city.

Slightly less awe-inspiring is the sight of one scrapper flexing at the foot of the statue.

"What are you doing?" Teckstyle says, floating in front of the scrapper, arms folded.

"Just showing all the rookies just how awesome it is to be a veteran. Gives them something to look forward to, you know?" Flatfoot says, flexing a modest bicep.

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Wouldn’t want to disillusion them or anything."

Flatfoot flexes his delts as a young defender walks by, ignoring him.

"Trying to work off debt, huh?" Teck asks.

"Er. Yeah."

"Do tell."

"Well, you know how medical costs are going through the roof…Well, I’m looking for some lucky newbie who wants to learn the ropes. From me."

"You are a cruel and unusual person. You know that, right?"

"Hey," Flat says, shrugging. "I’m not dead yet. Must be doing something right. What are you doing here? I thought after that whole ‘alpha strike’ incident, you weren’t allowed to show your face here?"

Teck taps his helmet with a metallic clang. "I’m not showing my face here."

"A mere technicality."

"I’m good at those. No, I’m here to see a city representative, something about a key to the city or something."

Flat crosses his arms. "Uh-huh."

"And, uh, to work off some debt."

"Well, there you are…"

"Hey, whatever happened to that stupid hat of yours?" Teck asks.

"Oh that? The wind blew it away one day while I was running through the streets. Physics or something…" Flat says, looking around, then trailing off. "Wait…No. It can’t be!"

"What?" Teck asks, looking around quickly.

"Its HIM!!!" Flat points in terror to an approaching figure.

"Hello Mr. Flatfoot! I’ve been looking all over for you!!" waves the approaching scrapper.

"Hello…Kid…Flatfoot…" Flat manages weakly.

"Boy its sure great to see you! I’ll bet you’ve got all kinds of stories to tell of your great adventures!"

"Um. Yeah. I was, um, trapped. For a while. In Oranbega." Flat says, trying to edge away.

"Really??" Kid Flatfoot says, eyes wide behind his goggles.

"Yeah…Totally."

"Well that’s great!!" Kid Flat explodes. "With your know-how of we’ll be able to storm through their city with ease! Why, I’ll bet we could even rescue Sam Wincott from the Igneous!"

"Yeah…that’s…that’s great."

"This is gonna be great! You’re my idol, you know! Ever since that day when I got my powers, I’ve wanted to be just like you!"

"Mission accomplished kid," Teckstyle says smugly.

"Shut up Teck," Flat mutters.

"Hey, I just won a costume contest, what does that get me, Mr. Flatfoot?"


Several agonizing hours later, Flat and his sidekick are sprinting through Steel Canyon.

"Hey, you wanna know how I got out of Faultline?" Kid Flatfoot asks eagerly.

"Um-"

"Well, after you left to go save the city, I ran around the cracks trying to find the Circle of Thorns’ hideout, when I ran into a group of them up to no good. So I rushed them. I managed to get their would-be victim away, but they took me down and I teleported to the hospital."

"Well. Aren’t we all lucky to have the teleporters." Flat says darkly.

"Boy, I’m just so glad I got powers like yours. Having super reflexes is just great, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, I like it. Not getting hit feels pretty good."

Kid Flatfoot, distracted, trips over a trash can and tumbles into a dumpster. Flat stops and waits for him to stand up.

"I just wish I could dodge things as well as you," Kid Flat says, standing up. He fails to notice a banana peel on his shoulder.

"Oh, it takes time and experience to get really good at not getting hit. And even then, you won’t be perfect. Look at me, I’m a hero to millions, and I still get knocked down every now and then." Flat pauses. "Come to think of it, usually when I’m with Teckstyle."

"Why’s that?" Kid Flat asks.

"Bah, that jerk’s always distracting me with his know-it-all, ‘I shoot blue stuff at people’ attitude."

"Jealous?"

"Why should I be? Just cuz he can fly and has range?" Flat says, clenching his teeth.

"So why do you two always team up?" Kid Flat asks innocently.

"Well, the payoff’s usually pretty good, the job gets done, and he’s a damn good blaster, no question about that."

"Then why isn’t there a Kid Teckstyle?"

"I shudder to think what that would be like," Flat says quietly.

"What?""Nothing. Problem he gets sometimes is that he keeps thinking he’s a tank."

Kid Flatfoot’s eyes grow wide behind his goggles. "You mean he’s not a tank?!"

Flatfoot rubs the bridge of his nose. "Oy." He picks the peel off Kid Flat and tosses it on the ground. "You’ve got a banana on your shoulder."

The plucky teen sidekick taps him on the shoulder. "Look! A building’s on fire across the street! We’ve got to stop it!"

Flat looks across to the blazing structure. "Um. Shouldn’t trained professionals be handling that?"

"We’re professionals!" Kid Flat yells enthusiastically.

"What are we gonna do? Kick the flames out?"

"There’s a fireman over there handing out extinguishers," Kid Flat points out.

"That doesn’t make sense!" Flat says. "Why would a fireman be making other people do his job for him? City Hall’s going to get an angry letter about this--" Flat says, taking a step forward.
Two seconds later he’s lying on his back, writhing and rubbing his lower back. "[censored] banana!"

"C’mon, get up! The fire’s getting worse!" Kid Flat urges.

A loud thumping, like the sound of really large feet running reaches the duo. A few moments later, five very large stone creatures trample them on their chase of another hero. Flat and his sidekick lie on the ground in agony.

"What were those?" Kid Flat asks.

"Devouring Earth."

"Why did they trample us?"

"I don’t know, but it’s the second time that’s happened to me," Flat says, surly. "Oh great, now one’s coming back." A small Rubble runs up to Flat and starts kicking him. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Stop it!"

Meanwhile, the fire grows and grows until it finally reaches a gas line. The resulting explosion shatters the Rubble, but also sends people flying for blocks.

When the dust clears, flatfoot, still lying on the ground, but in a different location thanks to the blast, raises one index finger. "Ok, that time was totally not my fault!"