The doors were wide open. Loud, thumping music reminiscent of what a giant’s heartbeat must sound like pulsed through tiny, concealed speakers. Bright, welcoming lights flooded through the open doorway, beckoning passersby to step inside. Being situated next door to the post office, I would have expected there wouldn’t have been much foot traffic. There simply was too many cars going in and out of the post office to warrant an approach on foot. However, that didn’t stop the people clearly craving a drink, as there was a steady stream of patrons both coming and going, suggesting whatever this particular bar was serving, it was in high demand.
“Doesn’t look too bad, right?” Vance companionably said, as he stepped out of the car. “May not look like much on the outside, but I’m sure the inside is nice.”
“Have either of you ever stepped foot in there, man?” Harry dubiously asked, as the three of us approached the front entry. “I haven’t.”
“Me, either,” Vance admitted.
“What are you worried about?” I asked, as I frowned at Harry. “It’s a bar. How bad could it be if these Daredevils choose to meet at a tavern?”
Harry shrugged, “True. You’re right. Sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to be such a downer. Come on. Let’s see what this place has to offer.”
We walked through the open doorway and came to an immediate stop. The bar was crammed full of people. There were no available tables, the bar was standing room only, and there were several streams of people steadily walking from one end of the bar to another, looking for an opening.
Every single one of them, and I do mean everyone, stopped what they were doing, paused their conversation, and even hesitated in mid-drink to stare at us as though we were each wearing ski masks and brandishing weapons. I should also point out that everyone looked to be in their twenties, and not one of those young bastards had a gray hair on their heads. That meant that I was officially the oldest guy there.
“Does anyone else think we’ve got the wrong place?” I quietly asked my friends.
Harry wordlessly raised his hand. Vance pushed it down and brushed by me, on his way to the counter. As luck would have it, three people already at the counter decided they had had enough and departed. The three of us quickly took their spots. After we placed our drink order – beer for me and Vance, and a lite beer for Harry – I slowly inspected our surroundings.
I don’t know what any of us were expecting, but for me, this wasn’t it. We’re supposed to be meeting the Daredevils, but how in the world are we expected to carry on a conversation? The pulsating music was so loud that I felt the fillings in my teeth rattle. Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Are you Zack Anderson?”
I turned to see a young, six and a half foot tall blonde Adonis who was so ripped he could have easily have given Chris Hemsworth a run for his money as Thor. The guy had shoulder-length blonde hair, was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, and had tattoos covering both arms. If I didn’t feel out of place before, then I sure as hell did now.
“Er, yeah, that’s me. Are you Dean?”
The guy took my hand in his and shook it with bone-crushing force.
“Dean Babcock. I’m Chairman of the Dysfunctional Daredevils. Pleased to meet you, Zack. Are these the two friends you said would be accompanying you?”
I shrugged, “Old fogeys stick together.”
“You can stick something, all right,” Vance grumbled. He held out a hand. “Vance Samuelson. For the record, these two are older than I am.”
Dean grinned and looked over at Harry.
“Harrison Watt. You can call me ‘Harry’. Do you really have club meetings here? Isn’t it kinda loud, bro?”
Our new friend shook his head, leaned past me to place an order with the bartender, and then waited companionably for his drink to be made.
“It is rather loud in here,” Dean admitted. “You don’t want to hang out in here for too long. It can cause tinnitus.”
“It can cause what?” Vance asked.
“Tinnitus,” Dean repeated. He tapped his ears. “Ringing in the ears? It’s not good for you.” The bartender slid a bottle over to him. Our new friend took his bottle and indicated the three of us should grab our drinks and follow him. “Come on. You should meet the rest of the gang.”
“Where are we going?” Vance asked, as we noticed Dean was now heading for the door.
“It’s too damn loud in here,” Dean explained, as we all headed outside. The music could still be heard, but at least my eardrums were no longer bleeding. “I can’t think when it’s that loud.”
“Then why bother meeting here?” Vance curiously asked.
Dean held up his bottle. “Red Barn makes some of the best beer this side of the Rockies. They’re microbrews, in case you’re wondering. Most of our gang had never tried one before joining our club. Once they did, they were hooked. So, whenever we meet up, we stop by here first in order to get our drinks. Only then will we head to Sarah’s.”
Harry’s face split into a wide grin. “Sarah’s? As in, Sarah’s Pizza Parlor? Now we’re talkin’, man!”
Dean nodded, “I know, right? I know they’re fairly new in town, having opened earlier in the year. But I have to tell you, they have the best damn pizza in town.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I nodded, and I did. “We were there just a few days ago.”
“I can probably talk the guys into going to another place, if you prefer,” Dean companionably said.
All three of us shook our heads.
“I think we’re all good,” I said, which earned me nods of approval from Vance and Harry.
The walk to the pizza parlor was only about two blocks west. Dean held the door for us as we stepped foot inside and were instantly assailed by some heavenly aromas. My stomach decided to rumble just then.
“Was that yours or mine?” Vance asked, with a grin.
“Mine, I think.”
Dean led us to one of two separate rooms, which, according to the placard next to the door, were available for private bookings. The three of us followed Dean and found seats near the end of the table. However, before any of us could reach for our chairs, the dozen or so people already gathered around the table ceased their conversations and looked up at us as though we had just stepped foot into the wrong bar. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence followed, before a young, swarthy guy with a very prominent five o’clock shadow, sitting on the opposite side of the table, cleared his throat.
“Thor? Are these guys them?”
Thor? The members of this group called their leader ‘Thor’? Hadn’t I just made a mental reference to the Norse god when I first clapped eyes on Dean Babcock? It was all I could do to keep my face comfortably parked in neutral.
“Allow me to make the introductions, Yeti,” Dean casually said, raising his voice. “Everyone, this is Zack, Harry, and Vance. Guys? Let me introduce you to the club. As you’ve just heard, on the opposite side all the way on the end is Yeti.”
The dark-skinned guy gave us a two-fingered salute.
“Yeti?” I softly asked.
“The dude’s as hairy as a sasquatch,” Dean chuckled, under his breath. “His real name is Patrick Zanten, but no one calls him that. He’s my vice-chair.”
I nodded, “Got it.”
“Sitting next to Yeti is TooTall.”
A gaunt, skinny guy stood up to shake our hands. He looked to be late twenties, had impeccably styled hair, and was wearing a polo shirt and khakis. For some reason, the presence of this guy made me feel a little better. I think it was because he looked like he was out of place here, sitting amidst these scruffy-looking, tattoo-wearing outdoor adventurists. As TooTall stood, all three of us ended up having to crane our necks to look up at the guy. Here was someone who definitely lived up to his name.
“I’m Billy Madison. You can call me TooTall, if you’d like. Everyone here does.”
“Damn, dude!” Harry breathed in amazement, as his gaze traveled up TooTall’s body to land on
his face. “They weren’t kidding, were they? If you don’t mind me askin’, bro, how tall are you?”
“I’m 6’10”.” TooTall responded, almost sheepishly. “I’ve always been the tallest one in the room.”
“Sit down, TooTall,” Dean instructed.
Well, I’d better make that ‘Thor’. If I was going to refer to Billy as ‘TooTall’, then I should address the entire group by their monikers. Was I the only one who thought it was silly as hell for a group of adults to call themselves by these absurd nicknames?
TooTall hastily sat, as though he had just been scolded by a teacher. Next to him was a young, African-American girl who had to have at least three diamond studded earrings in each ear. She was wearing a black tank top, a red and black leather jacket, black ripped shorts, and black combat boots. Her hair was short and dark, and currently in messy waves. The girl fixed us with a rather intense gaze, and that’s when I noticed she had one of those tattoo sleeves covering her left arm, but whereas I’m used to seeing multiple images jammed together, this tattoo looked to be of a single image. Whatever it was, it wrapped around her entire arm. I also noticed she had some type of scar over her right eye. From a Daredevil excursion?
“Next to TooTall is Cecilia…”
“Dagger,” the girl interrupted, with a frown.
“…Dagger,” Thor continued, as he gestured at the girl, who immediately pushed away from the table and stood up. “Believe it or not, she’s the most efficient postal carrier you will have ever seen.”
“Pleased to meet you, gramps” the girl quipped, as she shook hands with me. I noticed she had striking green eyes. Colored contacts? She repeated the gesture to the other two, but I couldn’t help but notice she didn’t repeat the comment.
Dagger’s grip was surprisingly strong for someone of her size. And by that, I should point out that she looked to be less than 5 feet tall. I was nowhere close to matching TooTall in height, yet next to Dagger here, I felt like the Jolly Green Giant.
“Oh, I like her,” Vance decided, as he turned to give me a thumbs-up.
“It’s nice that we finally get some old people in here,” Dagger continued, as she sank back down in her seat. “It’ll help even things out some.”
Vance’s smile jumped off his face to land squarely on mine. I felt I should say something, to address being called ‘gramps’, but I didn’t have to. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Harry was itching to say something.
“Who’re you calling old, chica?” he demanded.
“You,” Dagger calmly responded. “Look at the three of you. Are you, or are you not, old enough to be my father?”
I slapped a hand over my heart and pretended someone had just shoved a knife through it.
“Oh, she striketh straight to the heart with that quip,” I moaned, and immediately grabbed the table for support, as though I was in danger of losing my balance. Then I checked for a pulse on my arm. “But… I still live! Clearly, my pacemaker doth taketh the brunt of her attack.”
Dagger snorted as she covered her mouth. She grinned at me.
“You’re pretty cool…”
I nudged Vance in the ribs. “Did you hear that? Huh? Huh??”
“…for an old guy.”
Vance nudged me back. “Yep, loud and clear, pal.”
Thor then stepped behind the next person at the table, who was a pasty, sickly-looking guy who I’m pretty sure has spent less than an hour outside in the last year. He was wearing an unadorned black shirt and black jeans. The young man rose to his feet and offered me a limp hand to shake. Consequently, it was cold and clammy. I had half a mind to recommend the daily usage of a hand gripper to build up his grip strength. No guy should have a grip as weak as that one.
“This is Techie,” Thor said, as he slapped a hand on each of Techie’s shoulders and gave it a firm shake. “He single-handedly keeps all our electronics in good working order. And, he’s an all-around whiz on a computer.”
That explained the pale complexion. I was pretty sure I was right. This guy sat behind a computer for the vast majority of his day.
“Caleb Gyserman,” Techie said, as he shook my hand and looked up at me. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I returned, looking down. Damn, this dude was short!
“And here,” Thor announced, as he raised his voice to thunderous levels, “we have probably one of the most important people in the room. I give you… Patch.”
Patch? Vance, Harry and I shared a quick look together. This guy was important? Enough to have it shouted to the whole restaurant? Hell, the guy in question looked embarrassed to find himself at the center of attention. He was a good-looking kid in his twenties, who had curly brown hair and hazel eyes. What surprised me the most, though, was when he stood up, the top of his head didn’t clear my shoulder. He couldn’t have been more than five and a half feet tall. Aside from TooTall, what was with this group? Was everyone shorter than 5’6”?
I noticed Vance’s eyes had narrowed. Was he thinking that, perhaps, this was Jerod in disguise? However, in the blink of an eye, the skeptical look was gone and Vance was thrusting out his hand to make the introductions for us.
“Patch here is our resident doc,” Thor explained.
“I’m actually a registered nurse,” Patch admitted. “I’ve had to patch up a few of our members on more than one occasion, so ‘Patch’ stuck.”
“Next to Patch is Jitters,” Thor continued, as he pointed at the woman on Patch’s left. “So named ‘cause she thinks everything is a conspiracy and I’ve never seen her calm down. Like, ever.”
“If you knew what I know,” Jitters mumbled, keeping her eyes fixed on the table, “you’d be worried, too.”
“Then, on this side, we have Hippy…”
A young guy wearing a blue jumpsuit nodded at us. It was easy to see how Hippy got his name. He looked as though he belonged in a 70s sitcom, with his long, feathery black hair and thick walrus moustache.
“…Jafo…”
The next guy stood up. Finally! We have a tall guy! In fact, he looked as tall as I was, which was an even 6’0”. Unlike most of the others, Jafo here looked to be in fantastic shape and sported a healthy tan. This was someone I’d expect to find in a group like this. Jafo shook hands with the three of us and promptly sat.
“…C2…”
Yet another short white guy stood up. This one, I decided, had a strong boy next door vibe about him. He was good-looking, wearing a smile, and when compared to the rest of the group, the most approachable. He took my hand and gave it a firm shake.
“Caleb Brissel. Nice to meet you.”
“Why do they call you ‘C2’?” Vance curiously asked.
C2 turned to point at Techie.
“His real name is Caleb, too. I’m the second ‘Caleb’, so that makes me…”
“C2,” Harry finished for him. “Makes sense, bro.”
“On C2’s right is none other than HQ,” Thor continued.
I looked at the girl Thor was referring to and had to stop myself from shaking my head. This girl was wearing a hot pink crop top, white coveralls which ended just above her knees, and calf-high black leather boots. I have no idea how to describe her hair color, as I can see that it has been dyed blonde, only I could also see that the tips of the right-hand pig-tail was red, and the left was pink.
I looked helplessly at Vance, who could only shrug. And Harry? Well, his expression mirrored my own. We really didn’t know what the hell we were looking at.
The girl scrambled to her feet and thrust out her hand.
“Pleased to meetcha.”
“Can I ask you something?” I hesitantly inquired after I had shaken the proffered hand. “HQ? Aside from ‘headquarters’, what is that short for? Your initials?”
The girl happily nodded. “You betcha!”
She promptly sat.
“I can see you have no idea who she’s modeling herself after,” Thor whispered. “Harley Quinn? From Suicide Squad
? You know, the Joker’s frequent lover and accomplice?”
I nodded, “Sure. Okay.”
Thor grinned, “Still don’t have a clue, do you?”
All three of us shook our heads ‘no’.
“You can Google it later. Now, finally, our last member is… care to guess?”
I looked at the last person at the table. I could tell from her facial features that she was Asian, only she had to be wearing some fairly extensive makeup since her skin was paper white, and we’re talking white-as-snow white. She was wearing a long-sleeved black dress, accented with white collar and cuffs. Her long black hair had been braided, and was hanging nearly halfway down her back. I took one look at the girl and smiled.
“Wednesday?”
The girl flashed me a dazzling smile, something in which Wednesday Addams would never do. She nodded excitedly and pumped my hand.
“You’re right! Oh, I’m so glad I pulled off the look. It’s nice to meet you, Vance.”
“I’m Zack,” I corrected. I then pointed at my two companions. “He’s Vance, and Harry is over there, on my right.”
“I do hope you three are going to join our club,” Wednesday gushed. “We haven’t had any new members in quite some time.”
“And why is that?” I curiously asked.
“She’s kidding, of course,” Thor hastily interrupted. He threw an arm around my shoulders and guided me to an empty seat. Vance and Harry followed close behind. “Take a seat guys, and welcome to the Dysfunctional Daredevils!”
Harry held up a hand. “I gotta ask, bro. What makes you guys ‘dysfunctional’?”
Thor smiled and held out his hands in an open gesture, indicating everyone at the table. “You tell me, Harry.”
“Dysfunctional means not working properly.”
“And it also means deviating from the norms of typical social behavior,” Thor added, as he winked at the members of his group.
Case of the Dysfunctional Daredevils Page 5