by Adam Graham
“Now, your Colonel Snyder hatched this plan.” Scottish Polk pointed to a black wall next to a black bookshelf filled with black books. “Blend yourself into the wall and stay absolutely still.”
“Sure.” Powerhouse nodded. “I can do that.”
Scottish Polk handed Powerhouse an earpiece. “That is on a frequency that the man you call Half-Brain will use when we’ve drained as much power as we can from Manners. On Half-Brain’s command, strike. Now, can I have one of your force field generators?”
Powerhouse made the earpiece disappear into his helmet “Usually, I am the force field generator, but . . . ” He superimagined a force field generator big enough to create one that surrounded the entire building. It was so huge, he built it into a wall cloaked in darkness. He pulled a keychain flashlight from his hidden pocket and shone it on the generator. “There she blows.”
Scottish Polk scoped it out and smiled. “Splendid. Just cover it with the black shielding.”
“Consider it done.” The walls’ papery black shielding stretched across the huge force field generator.
“Okay, one question. What’s that boomerang on your belt for?”
Powerhouse glanced at it. “A trick I forgot to use during my last two encounters with Mister Manners. This time, I’ll remember.” Hopefully. “Now my question. How do we know he’ll show up at a tea party in London?”
“Why, he’s been invited, of course.”
So? Powerhouse wrinkled his nose under his helmet. “I still don’t get it.”
“Trust me, dearie.” A tall woman with short gray hair in her early eighties emerged from the shadows. She wore a royal blue, knee-length cocktail dress. “He won’t turn down my invitation.”
Powerhouse glanced at the gray-haired lady. “Who are you?”
“I am Mrs. Cecilia Witherspoon, young man.”
The author of an etiquette book Manners cited constantly on his website. Yeah, the guy would be here any minute. Powerhouse grinned. “Glad to meet you.”
She smiled. “I understand why you can’t be a gentleman and remove your helmet in the presence of a lady.”
“All right.” Scottish Polk clapped. “We’re all acquainted properly. Let’s get into position. Our man should be here in ten minutes.” Scottish Polk scrambled into the shadows.
Powerhouse blended into the bookshelf up against the visible wall.
Mrs. Witherspoon settled in at the table.
Not a minute later, Manners strode in dressed in a black suit and red tie. He bowed to Mrs. Witherspoon and kissed her hand like she was the queen mother. “You must forgive my hasty outfit. I wasn’t able to dress properly as I had to rent something.”
“That’s all right.” She led him to a chair behind the book case.
They engaged in small talk while sipping tea and nibbling on shortbread cookies that they kept misidentifying as biscuits.
Powerhouse’s muscles ached to squirm and yawn. He surely could’ve watched a whole episode of Spider-Man by now.
Half Brain’s voice blared in his ear. “Power drain complete!”
Powerhouse stepped away from the bookshelves and closed in on his quarry. He let fly a boomerang at his full strength.
“What?” Manners spun right before the boomerang conked him in the head with a heavy thud. Manners slumped over.
“That was for the Boomerang Bloke!” Powerhouse shook his fist.
Manners leapt up and punched Powerhouse’s armor. The villain’s blow bounced back at him. He gaped. “My strength!”
“Gone.”
“No!” Mister Manners flew up toward the ceiling.
Powerhouse raced up beside Manners, grabbed his shoulders, and head butted him while Manners attempted to pinch his neck. Manners lost his grip. Powerhouse kneed the villain in the stomach for good measure then threw him to the floor. Manners clutched his stomach as Powerhouse swooped him up and dropped him twice. Better stop. He didn’t want to kill him. He let go.
Manners lay still.
“Well, that’s that.” Powerhouse dusted off his uniform.
“That’s what you think!” Manners stood and stumbled to the stereo playing classical music. “My solar energy’s been drained, but I can substitute sound energy for solar energy.”
Oh please. Powerhouse laughed. “You really can’t do that.”
“Oh yeah?” Manners leaned against the stereo. “I feel! I feel . . . ” His shoulders slumped. “Nothing.”
Snickering, Powerhouse marched over and grabbed Manners by the arms. “Give it up, little man.”
“I’ve got enough juice left in me to take you down!” Manners kicked Powerhouse’s right knee and bounced back.
Manners regained his footing and wobbled toward Mrs. Witherspoon.
Oh no. That nut would harm that refined old lady. Powerhouse raised his energy cannon. “Not another step or I’ll shoot.”
Manners glared at him and stopped but spun around to face her. He folded his arms. “You must have betrayed me. Why? Why? I was going to usher in the world you wanted. A world where good manners and decorum would reign supreme.”
“How?” Mrs. Witherspoon tsked, shaking her dainty head. “Young man, you don’t know a thing about good manners.”
“I do so!” Manners shook his fist. “I’ve memorized every etiquette book you’ve ever written and can recite them backwards and forwards.”
“Then why don’t you treat others with dignity and show them deference and honor? You’ve perverted manners into a list of rules you use to condemn others and exalt yourself—and half your rules are your own invention. Your brand of ‘manners’ is self-serving, controlling, and an utter disgrace. I’m ashamed of you.”
“No!” Manners turned toward Powerhouse, his head down and his face red, but his lip was curled into a sneer. His head snapped up and his stare had the intensity of a murderer.
He growled, clenched his fists, and rushed at Mrs. Witherspoon.
Chapter 23
Finale
Powerhouse dashed to Manners at his fastest speed, got to him before the killer got to his intended victim, and shoved him to the floor. Powerhouse hauled Manners up by the shoulders and slammed his head down as hard as he could twice, tilting the villain’s face so his nose wouldn’t take the full force of the impact.
“Liar!” Manners twisted around and glared. Blood dripped from scrapes on his forehead, cheeks, and chin. “You said you’d shoot me if I took another step. I’ll sue you for breach of contract!”
Huh? Powerhouse cocked his head. “But I showed you mercy. My original threat would’ve killed you in your weakened state.”
“Ha! My plan was to leap so you’d hit my battery dead on, cause it to explode, and destroy yourself and everyone else within at least a mile radius of the blast.”
“You would’ve died!”
“As a martyr for a higher cause!”
Mrs. Witherspoon covered her mouth. “Sir, you are no martyr. You are a coward who attempted to commit both suicide by cop and mass murder in the same move.”
“Mother, you’re confused.” Manners pushed up on his arms. “That’s only how the rebels will try to spin our tragic deaths. It’s Powerhouse who has destroyed the greatest forces for decency and good manners on Earth. The well-mannered people of the Earth will rise as one to avenge us. Once they have conquered the Earth in our names, they will build two giant golden statues that will touch the sky in Westminster Abbey. The tallest will be of me, the shorter one of you, Mother!” Manners glanced to Powerhouse. “You know what the most glorious part of my selfless sacrifice will be?”
Will be? Powerhouse sighed. “You might as well as finish your ravings.”
“No one will ever know, toward the end of her days, Queen Mother Witherspoon was so senile she couldn’t see the truth of my interpretation of her revelation of the laws of etiquette. Thanks to my sacrifice, our people will worship her throughout all ages for the wisdom she provided us in the flower of her youth.”
She put her hands on her hips and tsked. “Really, you accusing me of having lost my mind is too much.”
Manners shook his fist at Powerhouse. “I demand that you fulfill your contractual obligation to martyr myself and Queen Mother Witherspoon! You will force us to stand on a high cliff. While the TV stations all broadcast your unjust execution of your rightful sovereigns, Mother and I will sing a ballad about this barbaric world’s tragic rejection of our wisdom. Afterward, you will shove us to our deaths.”
“Thanks.” Mrs. Witherspoon reached in her purse, whipped out a hypodermic needle, and stabbed the elbow of Mr. Manners. “But no thanks.”
Scottish Polk emerged from his hiding place in the shadows and lifted a phone to his mouth. “We’ve got him.”
“Et tu, matre?” Mr. Manners whispered and went limp.
Powerhouse laid Manners on the floor. “I’m surprised that worked.”
Half Brain’s voice said in his ear, “He’d been weakened enough to be vulnerable to anesthetic drugs. If he’d been much stronger, they wouldn’t have worked.”
Oh. “Did you hear what he said about blowing up his battery? Would that have really worked?”
“Don’t know.” Half Brain snorted. “You want to try it?”
Scottish Polk shrugged as if Powerhouse had directed the question at him. “At full power, that would’ve done at least as much damage as a nuclear weapon. I’m glad we didn’t find out how many people it’d kill now.”
“Same here.” Powerhouse sighed. Now for the hard part. “How are we going to keep him confined?”
“We’ll keep him drugged until we can disconnect him from his power source. After that, we’ll keep him in a cell lined with the material that drains him in case there is any residual effect. My men should be here to take him to the lab any second.”
Several men in suits entered, bringing with them a collapsed metal containment cell papered on the inside with the black material coating the tea party room. They slapped a pair of handcuffs on Manners, shoved him into the cell, and locked it.
Once his men had left with the prisoner, Scottish Polk nodded to Mrs. Witherspoon. “You did it again, Mother.”
“I’ve still got it.” She grinned.
Huh? Powerhouse squinted at Scottish Polk. “How can you keep a straight face as you tease her about the nutcase’s queen mother delusion?”
Scottish Polk shrugged. “In addition to being the author of etiquette books, she was an agent of Her Majesty’s government with the code name Mother. Her heyday in intelligence was back during the Great War. Poor thing had been with family in France with the Vichys took over and joined the Underground in France, and then got back to England. Her glory days.”
She laughed. “There you’re wrong. My glory days were raising three children.”
“Cool.” Powerhouse beamed. “That could really make a spying career challenging.”
Scottish Polk said, “During those years, she attempted to retire and wrote in her free time. Her books were so popular, she received invitations to visit Eastern block countries on cultural exchanges. She spotted in this the opportunity to serve the Queen and seized it. She saved the world while undercover talking about table manners.”
Agent Mother pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “You have quite a knack for describing my area of expertise, young man.”
Scottish Polk cleared his throat. “No offense, Agent Mother. I know how vital your knowledge of etiquette is to MI-6 agents heading into foreign countries.”
Powerhouse gaped at Agent Mother. She wasn’t a boring old etiquette author? She was a cool spy from World War II? Or was she both? No way, he must have misunderstood. “Did you ever meet Joshua Speed?”
Her eyes widened. “I remember a Yankee by that name. He’d come over and joined the British Army before America joined the War. I had many an adventure with him.”
Wow, his grandpa had lost track of Major Speed from 1939 until D-Day. “Could you tell me about him?”
“Sure, dearie. I’m not very busy these days. Though, this isn’t really my house, either. Agent in Charge Polk, would you mind terribly if we lingered for a while?”
“Not a problem, Mother. You just let us know when.”
“Thank you. Would you care for some tea, Powerhouse?”
He eyed all the neatly arranged cups, silverware, breads, and spreads. “I don’t really know how to do that tea thing.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll show you.”
“If you say so.” Powerhouse pulled his titanium chair out of his pocket, snapped it up to full size, and sat for tea.
Powerhouse pocketed his miniaturized airship as he hovered over his backyard. He flew behind a spruce and changed back into Dave Johnson.
He strode into the house via the kitchen door and raced to the living room. “Full of the sweet savor of triumph and of marmalade, Powerhouse returns to his domicile.”
Oops, he was talking to an empty room. Where was everyone?
Shrugging, he sat on the couch, grabbed a hardcover Legion of Superheroes collection off the coffee table, and lay down.
Zolgron’s footsteps stomped on the basement stairs. He dashed into the living room with his hands held behind his back. “What are you doing lying around? Shouldn’t you be on patrol?”
Dave glared at him.
“What?” Zolgron cocked his head. “Did I miss something?”
Yes. Dave grunted and opened his hardcover book. “Read it in the next issue of the Adventures of Powerhouse.”
“Fine, be that way.” Zolgron grunted. “I would’ve been home earlier, but I received an intriguing proposal via email and flew into Seattle to discuss it. What do you think?”
“Hold on.” Dave looked up from the book.
Zolgron was holding a T-shirt portraying him holding a fresh beet and Dark gray text below read, “Big Gray’s Bountiful Gourmet Garden.”
“Perfect.” Dave groaned.
Powerhouse walked into the office of Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Snyder in Fort Lewis. A shirtless Colonel Snyder sat at his desk. He waved. “Thanks for coming, Powerhouse.”
“You’re welcome.” Powerhouse shook Colonel Snyder’s hand. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
“Odd medical condition.” Colonel Snyder shrugged. “I suffer a periodic compulsion to take my shirt off for no apparent reason.”
“Does it ever create a problem?”
“Once. It wasn’t fun to explain it to the Secretary of Defense.” Colonel Snyder cleared his throat. “Anyway, have a seat.”
Powerhouse lowered himself into the chair.
Colonel Snyder settled behind his desk. “First order of business is your comic book. We don’t want to be in it. Use a fictional government agency. Second, Half Brain doesn’t want anyone to know he exists. Replace him with a stock scientist. Third, the possibility of using nukes is classified. People get jumpy when they find out the country came closing to using one.”
Why did he have to make up so much in his adventures? And Half Brain was just paranoid. He really needed a comic book. “Okay, we can do that.”
“Now, I have something for you.” Colonel Snyder reached under his desk and pulled out a white hat box. “This is a token of thanks from Half Brain, myself, and a grateful nation.”
Powerhouse removed the lid from the hat box. Inside was a gray helmet just like the one he was already wearing. “Uh, thanks.”
“Half Brain created this special helmet. If it works like it’s supposed to, no one will ever again be able to block your mental powers.”
“Why didn’t he give me this in the first place rather than make us go through the whole tea time ploy? Maybe I could’ve taken Manners down without him nearly killing me, Agent Mother, and who knows how many other people.”
“Unfortunately, it took Half Brain two weeks to perfect it.” Colonel Snyder glanced around. “Powerhouse, we finished the results of our analysis on the power generator Mister Manners used. Not surprisingly, the weapon was not
of this Earth.”
“Same thing as with the Ultimate Agent Polk.”
“If you mean the duplicates racket, the FBI gave my office a copy of the report on them.” Colonel Snyder pursed his lips and frowned. “I’ve been monitoring this stuff for years. A threat to our entire civilization is coming. We need something big to counter it.”
“Are you wanting to start the Avengers initiative for real?”
Snyder shook his head. “No, the less the government is involved, the better.” He winked. “But I do want to moonlight with your team.”
“Sir, why did you sound so jaded toward an entity you work for?”
“Regardless of my personal reservations, working for the government is the best way I can fight for good. Still, you’re the guy who’s going to be able to turn this back.”
Powerhouse glanced around. “Is this a movie?”
“I’m serious. Can I be on your team?”
“Sure.” Though this was probably the weirdest conversation he’d ever had. Was Colonel Snyder right or had the guy seen the Lord of the Rings too many times? “If you’ll excuse me, I have to be going.”
“Right. I’ll sign you out.”
“Thanks.” Best to hurry. He was scheduled to volunteer at Derrick’s Awana class at church and he’d better go see the chief first. He dashed out of the office and rocketed into the sky.
While Powerhouse flew past the hospital, a man’s voice cried out below.
Powerhouse glanced down. The Boomerang Bloke hobbled on a pair of crutches, headed towards a bus stop.
Powerhouse landed. “Good to see you out of the hospital.”
“They couldn’t hold me.” The Boomerang Bloke grinned. “Oh, I loved the drawings you sent me. I can’t believe I’m gonna be in a comic book.”
“It was the least I could do.” Powerhouse beamed. He’d succeeded in making an enemy into a friend. The greatest success anyone could have.
“One thing, Powerhouse. Where’s me boomerang?”
Powerhouse beamed. “I threw it at Mister Manners.”