by Adam Graham
The store owner shook his fist. “Right to privacy? The jerk robbed my store!”
Powerhouse cleared his throat. “He may have been five-foot-seven with red hair, hazel eyes, a scar on his left cheek, earrings in both ears. His name may have been Jesse Baldacci.”
The dispatcher sighed. “That’s just a guess?”
Unless he wanted to be sued for invasion of privacy. “I believe Baldacci may know something about the robbery. Baldacci lives at an apartment over in Tacoma according to his driver’s license.” Powerhouse swallowed. “I mean I heard that somewhere.”
“Okay, Powerhouse. Thanks.”
Powerhouse hung up.
The shop owner growled. “Thanks for nothing. You let that punk get away with half of everything in the till.”
“How much was that?”
“Thirty-five dollars.”
“The police will get your money back.”
“But if you won’t get it back, what am I paying taxes for?”
Powerhouse stared. “I’m not paid for by your taxes. The police are.”
“See? You could’ve saved me some taxes if you’d caught them.”
Powerhouse grunted. You just want to find a reason to be grumpy. “Citizen, I’ll make sure the police catch the miscreant.”
Powerhouse ran out the door and flew ahead of where the criminal was running. A police car was already in pursuit.
A female officer jumped out of the car and ran after the thief.
Powerhouse landed in front of the criminal and blocked his path.
The officer grabbed the criminal’s arms. “You’re under arrest. Get up against the wall of that house.” She grinned at Powerhouse. “Thanks.”
Powerhouse leaned down to her ear and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone. I could get in trouble for violating company policy.”
She sent him a puzzled luck. “Huh?”
“Obstructing traffic on a public sidewalk.”
Powerhouse flew over a parking garage in downtown Seattle. Only two more hours and then he could go home. Three days of this and still there was no insurance policy.
Glass was being broken in the garage. Powerhouse flew into the garage. A gang was breaking windows and ripping out car stereos.
Powerhouse landed.
A tall man wearing a ski mask said, “Keep at it, boys.”
Powerhouse tightened fists on his hips. “Desist from your dastardly deviltry.”
“No good.” The criminal laughed. “The word on the street is a lawyer’s got you running scared. You won’t touch any of us, and there are so many of us you can’t stop more than one at a time. Our buddies set off false alarms all around the other side of town. No cop’s going to get here until we’re gone.”
Must think of something to say. “You don’t want to do this.”
The man in the ski mask laughed. “Yes, I do.”
“Crime does not pay.”
“Actually, we’ll get $20,000 for this job.”
“You’ll never get away with this.”
“Who’ll stop us?”
Ropes materialized around the man and his compatriots. They cursed and dropped to the floor.
What? Powerhouse blinked and turned around the room.
Zolgron scowled.
The criminal cried, “Who are you?”
Zolgron grunted. “I’m the superhero to be named later.”
“Sounds like baseball. Can we trade you for the Flash and two rookie cops?”
A piece of duct tape appeared over the smart aleck’s mouth.
“That’s better.” Zolgron smiled. “Powerhouse, can we have a word?”
“Sure.” Powerhouse tapped his foot. “Go ahead.”
Zolgron slapped his head. “Not in front of the villains.”
“Oh right.” Powerhouse followed Zolgron out of the parking garage.
They flew up into the air over the city and landed on the rooftop of a gray office building.
Zolgron clamped his hands onto Powerhouse’s shoulders. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“What?” Powerhouse frowned. “Naomi and that Robolawyer of yours came up with a list of new rules I have to follow to avoid being sued. Among them is no fighting whatsoever and no tying up suspects. Blame your own machine.”
Zolgron grimaced. “Don’t blame Robolawyer. It only deals with the laws you’ve written, and you’re the one who decided to follow the advice.”
“Naomi said I had to protect the company from lawsuits or else I can’t fly. She’s the CEO.”
“That makes her a power-mad bully, not right. You don’t inspire people by running around scared of a lawyer. You’ll end up losing your comic book readers this way. Who wants to read a comic book where the hero’s greatest weapon is a cell phone?”
Guess there wasn’t ever a Cell Phone Man comic. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am. How did you end up your wife’s employee?”
“Well, I—I mean she . . . then we uh—” How did this happen again?
Zolgron put up a hand. “Never mind. It’s the natural order. She’s got a master’s degree. You have a GED. She is far more intelligent than you.”
“Thanks for the boost to my self-esteem.”
“You humans are too concerned with self-esteem and too unconcerned with the truth. While she is smarter than you in general, you have particular knowledge and heart. You are a great champion. You know what it takes to be the hero this city needs. I traveled to many galaxies, but I never learned more of importance from any being than I did from you.”
“Wow.” Powerhouse beamed, his crown warming. “That feels great.”
“What is important is that she may be smarter than you, but she does not know what you know. You can be the champion this city needs, but only if you use the wisdom and heart that’s been given you.”
“Thanks, Zolgron.”
“You’re welcome.” Zolgron slapped him on the shoulder. “Now go bust some criminals.”
Powerhouse put up a hand. “Not so fast. The wisdom of Powerhouse says, before making such a huge change, I need to have an honest discussion with my wife.”
Zolgron sneered. “I guess that is logical, from a human perspective.”
“It’s a key part of fostering an environment of mutual trust, respect, and understanding. One thing I need to ask you.”
“Certainly.”
“Would you mind me sleeping in the basement if it doesn’t work out?”
Chapter 5
Insuring a Superhero
Powerhouse landed in the backyard and glanced around. No one was watching. He changed into Dave Johnson and walked inside the house.
Zolgron stood in front of the stove. “What took you so long?”
“Just prayed a little and collected my thoughts.” Dave sniffed the air and smelt a delicious sauce. “What’s for dinner?”
“Swedish meatballs,” Zolgron said.
Naomi came in wearing a gray sweater and jeans. “Good news. I found an insurance company willing to take us on at a reasonable rate provided we make the new policies permanent. I told them to go ahead and send over the paperwork, and I’ll sign it in the morning.”
Oh no. Dave frowned. “Naomi, can we talk?”
“Sure.” Naomi wet her lips.
Zolgron pointed to the master bedroom. “In there. Close the door.” He petted the stove. “Loud noise disturbs the food.” He whispered to the pots of cooking food, “Don’t worry, it’s not our concern, is it?”
They walked into the bedroom.
Naomi raised her hands. “What’s wrong? I’ve been working twenty hours a week to make sure you can be a superhero without being sued and I finally did it.”
Uh-oh. The guilt trip had already started. Dave sighed. “I appreciate what you’ve been trying to do, but these rules just aren’t right for me. I can’t be the Powerhouse Seattle needs me to be if I follow these policies.”
Naomi growled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You have to be proactive. No one consults me at work, but I’ll let my manager know if—” She cupped her mouth. “I treated you like an employee.”
“I’m afraid so, Madam Chief.”
Naomi cringed and plopped on their bed. “And a low level employee at that.”
“When I agreed to Powerhouse Incorporated, I thought you were just going to handle the business part of it.”
“But it all intersects. We have to come up with new policies that will let you be Powerhouse and not get sued.”
“That’s the thing.” Dave shook his head. “Naomi, I try to not do anything wrong or stupid. If I damage or destroy something, I always fix it with my super-imagination. I think we need to stop being afraid of the ambulance chasers. If we’re doing what’s right and we’re doing what God wants, we shouldn’t be terrified of a lawyer.”
Naomi clasped her hands together. “But they could ruin us.”
“We make it.” Somehow. Dave sat beside Naomi and held her. “We’ll tell God about it. He’ll help.”
“We should probably have Carmela tell the prayer chain, but there’s no way she could send out exclusive prayer requests for Powerhouse.”
“Who says it has to be exclusive? We have the website.”
Naomi grinned. “That’s right. James said we got a lot of visitors. Lets have him create a post on it and we’ll see what happens.”
A blog alert popped up in Mitch Farrow’s inbox with the title, Powerhouse to Battle Evil Lawyers. He read aloud, “A lawyer has decided to fight a brave battle to make the city safe for criminals again.” He chuckled. “How old is this blogger, twelve?”
He went to the bottom.
“You can help us keep Powerhouse in the air in two ways. By joining us in prayer and by clicking the Paypal button below and sending . . .”
Mitch snickered. “So old Powerhouse is setting up a legal defense fund. Who’d give to that?”
Mitch leaned back in his desk chair. I almost feel sorry for the guy. He appeals to a God who is not there, and his fellow citizens are ingrates who would feel silly giving to a superhero’s legal defense fund. Mitch sneered. “Honey, lets give to the Powerhouse Legal Defense Fund and send some money to the Captain America Home for Old Soldiers.”
Major Speed lay in a hospital bed, unable to move. Blood splattered all over the nearly flat television’s rectangular screen. His stomach ached. Was this what America had come to? Now, horrific cruelty was entertainment, blasphemy was a joke, and families being ripped apart was normal. It was worse than he’d ever feared.
The Communists must have won and totally debased us.
Movement fluttered in the corner of his eye. The sorry excuse for a nurse had cut her unnaturally black hair into a man’s short style. She held a cigarette between yellow-stained fingers. Her nails had chipped black nail polish. Her lipstick was black to match. Her face was full of piercings, with one piercing on her right eyebrow.
The pagan smiled with an evil glint in her eye. “They say you can’t feel anything. I wonder.”
She put the tip of her lit cigarette to Major Speed’s hand.
Pain coursed through his body. He had to stop it.
His arms wouldn’t respond.
She removed the cigarette after forty-five long seconds and smiled like a cat who’d found a mouse to play with. “No sound, but the tears from your eyes show it gets a reaction. I’ll have some fun with you.”
She slapped him across the face and strode to her chair in the corner.
God, I don’t understand. Why has this happened to me? What did I do wrong? Why did you let the wicked triumph? I don’t understand you. I feel ashamed and dirty, sitting here. Please help me. Help me.
He tried to push his eyes closed, but even that he couldn’t manage. Oh God, I’m in Hell. Please get me out. I must remember. I need hope.
I must remember something. A scripture. What then—what then—what then shall we say? If God be for us, who shall be against us.
The words came to him like cool water on his lips. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation or distress or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?
Major Speed looked at the television. It featured yet another slasher murder. Or that? He peeked at the sadistic nurse. Or her?
Tears streamed down his cheek.
The nurse eyed him. “I don’t know what you’re crying about now.” She grabbed a yard stick from the corner, slapped it on her hand, and approached Major Speed. “But I’ll give you a good reason.”
Major Speed braced himself for the onslaught.
Powerhouse flew over the city. His cell phone rang. He reached under his armor. “Powerhouse.”
“Brent McCall.”
Uh oh, Dave Johnson’s lawyer. “Hello, Mr. McCall. Are you representing someone suing me?”
“Quite the contrary. I want to represent you pro bono.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve heard about the rates you charge. The corporation’s not making a lot of money. You’d have to represent us for free.”
“Um, that’s what pro bono means. I’m to the point in my life where I’ve paid my dues and can pick my cases. This guy threatening you is giving all lawyers a bad name.”
Powerhouse approached a shoe store from the air and landed on its roof. “Two questions. First, where did you get this phone number?”
“From my friend Chief Bachmann.”
“Please don’t share it with anyone.” Powerhouse swallowed. “Secondly, didn’t I read that you were thinking about running for Governor?”
“I’m on the fence about it. It seems the natural thing to do, but I’ve got two years to make up my mind.”
“Understand this: Powerhouse isn’t political and won’t be part of any campaign.”
“I hear ya, big guy. If I ran for Governor, I wouldn’t need your help to win in a landslide.”
McCall had never lacked confidence. “Okay, you can be my attorney after I double check with the CEO.”
“It’ll be a pleasure. I’ll have my office begin work on a press release.”
“I’ll get you my CEO’s number. She should be the one you call.” Battles to the death couldn’t be stopped to issue subpoenas. Powerhouse hung up on McCall and dialed Naomi’s cell number.
Naomi picked up. “Hi, Dave.”
“Cell phones can be monitored. Always call me Powerhouse.”
“I’m in the lunchroom at work. People will look at me funny.”
“Leave names out then. Um, Brent McCall is going to be our lawyer for free.”
“Pro bono?”
“I think that’s what he said.”
“Great! I have even better news. I’ve found an answer to our insurance issue. I want you to check it out first. I’m texting you the address. Meet me there at five.”
“Who’s looking after the kids?”
“Carmela and Randy will take them.”
“See you at five then.”
Powerhouse marched toward a two story office building with a sign out front.
Ross Family Insurance.
Hey. Powerhouse raised his left eyebrow. Why did Naomi think he’d work for a crime lord? He pushed through a revolving door and walked up to the reception desk. “I have an appointment.”
The brunette secretary looked up. “Your name?”
Wasn’t that obvious? “Uh, I’m Powerhouse.”
“Okay, I see you, Mr. House. You’re in with Mr. Delaney.”
“Has Mrs. Johnson arrived? She’s supposed to go in with me.”
“No, she’s not here yet.”
“I’ll go in once she’s here.”
Naomi bounded through the revolving door. She slammed her compact in her white purse, which she wore with her cream-colored pants suit.
Powerhouse touched her elbow. “Mrs. Johnson, could we talk a minute? Alone?”
“Sure.”
Powerhouse escorted her outside. “W
hat are we doing here? Ross is a crook.”
“That is exactly why they’re willing to negotiate.” Naomi laughed. “The crook liquidated his interest in this company to help pay his legal fees. The new owner is straight, but people have been canceling their policies, and he’s been losing agents.”
“Company needs a new name.”
“He agrees. A name people can believe in and trust. Yours.” Naomi stroked the chest emblem of a lightning bolt on Powerhouse’s costume.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” Naomi beamed. “If you let Ross Family Insurance rebrand itself as Powerhouse Family Insurance, it will give you a free liability policy, and the Powerhouse Foundation will receive one percent of the company profits. At its height, the company earned $50 million a quarter. That would give us $2 million a year to help this city. Though, it’d probably be a few years before we had that much coming in.”
“God will provide something.”
“He already has. You get money for the Foundation, and you’re free of the threat of lawsuits.”
“But I can’t go commercial. Superheroes don’t do that.”
Naomi tapped her foot. Her smile grew wider. “Didn’t Superman make a commercial with Jerry Seinfeld?”
“Well, yes but—”
“Or are you going to tell me he’s not real?”
Powerhouse sighed. “I want to meet this man before I sign a contract.”
Mitch Farrow sat at his executive desk.
His secretary entered. “A Mr. Jordan to see you.”
Mitch peered at his computer’s clock. “I have five minutes free. Send him in.”
The attorney crept in, carrying a black leather satchel stuffed almost to the point of bursting. He put it on the desk. “I’m returning your retainer.”
“Why? Haven’t you read the paper? Powerhouse is scared of you.”
“No, he was scared of me. Now he has me scared of Brent McCall.”
“McCall who?” Mitch sneered. “Ooh, a divorce attorney. Us unmarried guys should absolutely be shaking in our boots.”
“Don’t mock. McCall is a legal genius that no mortal attorney in his or her right mind wants to go up against in court. He’s ruthless with countersuits and more than willing to file a bar association complaint. If I go through with our plans with McCall on the prowl, he’ll get me disbarred. No thanks.”