18 - No Baby, You're Money

“So…what’re you gonna do with that jetpack?” Teckstyle asks.

Flatfoot is seated on a rooftop overlooking Peregrine Island. He’s currently cradling it like a child. “I will love it, and pet it, and call it George.”

“Right, you do that, just-just in your own free time, ok?” Teck says uncomfortably. “Focus on the job at hand.”

“You know,” Flat says, looking up from cooing at the jetpack. “This isn’t what I imagined when I signed onto this gig.”

“What do you mean?”

“Its just…well, stakeouts just seem beneath heroes of our caliber,” Flat says. “I mean, we teamed up with Santa. I’d say that qualifies us for the big leagues. This seems like a job for a brooding vigilante with daddy issues.”

“You’re just being impatient,” Teck says.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve got Pong in your helmet.”

“And now I’ve got the entire library of Atari games, thanks to the big S,” Teck says smugly. “Came with the helmet.”

“Get out of here.”

“I’m serious. I’m scrolling through the library now. Oh wow, its even got Custer’s Revenge and E.T.”

“You’re not well, Teck,” Flat says, scooting away a few feet. “Seen any Carnies yet?”

“Not yet. It weird, usually they like recruiting in this neighborhood.”

“Yeah, about those Carnies. They don’t look like any I’ve ever seen before.”

“Ah,” Teck says. “You mean gap-toothed, misshapen mutants with mysterious stains on their clothes? Those are the strongmen.”

“I guess. Those masks give me the willies,” Flat says, shuddering.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Teck says, pointing down to an alley where a Master Illusionist hovers in the shadows. “Found one.”

“Though I gotta admit, that whole jester thing they’ve got going is pretty hot,” Flat says. “Does that make me some kind of freak?”

“No baby, you’re money.”

“You think I should go down there?”

“Whoa, hold on there. If you’re gonna go down there, I don’t want you going over there like the superheroes you see in the movies, like the guys who always ask nicely and say things like “for the good of the city.” That never works. I want you to go over there and be like the supervillains you see in the movies. I want you to go over there like you’re trying to conquer the earth like you’ve got a doomsday death laser and you ain’t afraid to use it.” Teck pats Flat on the shoulder pads. “You’re a bad man, a bad man.”

“Right,” Flat says, strapping on the jetpack and leaping into the air. He gets a few feet away from the building when the pack beeps and a digitized feminine voice says “Batteries low.”

The scrapper drops like a rock to the city streets below. Flat desperately pumps his legs at inhuman speed, trying to slow his fall. It doesn’t, but he manages to get his feet close to the wall of the building. By some miracle, he gets some traction and grins. Flat speeds up, dodging ledges and windows on his way to the ground.

“Slick,” Teckstyle says approvingly, watching this from above. Flat can’t hear him from all the wind rushing past his ears. As he reaches street level, Flat touches down in the alley, but a miscalculation in his speed doesn’t slow him down enough when he gets there and he streaks across the alley and up the wall of the next building. A few seconds later, Flat’s speed has gone down enough that gravity does the rest, and he crashes into a pile of garbage bags.

Flatfoot stands up and dusts himself off. He turns around to stare directly into the mask of the Illusionist. He jumps a little, but rallies. “Hi. What’s a nice lady like you doing in Peregrine Island?”

“What do you do?” she asks.

“Um. Super speed, heightened reflexes, that sort of thing.”

“No. I mean what do you do?”

“Oh. That. I’m an…archvillain. Yeah. Truth and justice can suck it,” Flat says.

“You look familiar…” the Illusionist says slowly.

“No way, I guarantee I’m new in town. I’m, uh, from another dimension. In space. And I want to conquer the world. Definitely want to do that.”

“What’s your faction?”

“The, uh, let’s see. The-” Think, Flat! Think! You’re a member of the Bikini Patrol, come up with something opposite of that! “The…Panty…Raiders. We’re new. Want to conquer the world. From space.” Flat winces.

“Oh that’s right!” the Illusionist says, recognition in her voice. “You already told me that the first time you met me!”

“Oh, well that’s--what?”

The Master Illusionist slaps him across the face. “And you haven’t called all week! I’ve been waiting by the phone day and night, but you never even remembered my name, I’ll bet!”

“N-no way lady, I’m totally new in town. Brand new. I’ve never met you.”

“Don’t play dumb with me Deadfoot! Changing your costume isn’t going to fool me!” The Illusionist hovers higher and begins casting phantoms.

All Teck can see from his perch are a few bright flashes of light, followed by an “Aaarrrgh!” He shakes his head and flies down. There’s no sign of Flatfoot in the alley. “Flat?” Teck asks.

“Mmmmphh!” The sound comes from a trashcan against a wall. Teck goes over to it and lifts the lid.

“So how’d it go?”

“She thought I met her already! And that my name was Deadfoot! Then I got beat up by illusions.”

“No shame in that…” Teck says, trying to brighten things up.

“Teck, I was beaten up by things that aren’t even real!”

Teckstyle grabs the handles of the trashcan and starts to fly away. “Come on, let’s get you back to base. I’m sure someone’s got a welding torch or the jaws of life or something.”

“This is degrading.”

“Quiet you, or I put the lid back on.”

Elsewhere, in a modest house in the suburbs, a man pulls a car into his garage and shuts the engine down. Its late at night, and he tries to wrestle a large bag out of his trunk as quietly as possible. Not with much success. He manages to carry the bag into the house and is stopped in the kitchen when the light flicks on.

“And what are you doing out this late at night?” his wife demands.

“Nothing, dear,” he says.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Nothing…” he says.

The wife glares at him.

“Its just some RC car parts!”

She shakes her head. “You and your stupid toys.

The man begins carrying the bag down to the basement. “You’ll see, my dear. One day, you’ll see just what these stupid little toys can do!”