A Dad in a Cape (Mr Wonder Book 1)

by Sean Stansell

  “I’d be surprised if our guy has figured out how to jump start a car. He’s kind of an idiot.”

  The sound of Orion’s voice made Andromeda’s stomach churn. She didn’t let her emotions get the best of her often, but something about Orion made her feel ill.

  “I don’t think he’s an idiot, per se,” Taurus said. “He’s just new at this. Got thrown into the deep end of the pool. The last Mr. Wonder had 40 years to figure this all out. This guy has only had a few days.”

  Andromeda respected Taurus as much as she loathed Orion. Taurus was a strong leader, acted rationally, and didn’t micromanage the other two. In the years she’d worked with him, he’d never failed to put the team’s interests first. She trusted his judgement and was happy to be part of his team.

  “All the more reason to take him right away,” she said, “before he figures out what he’s capable of.”

  They were meeting, as always, on a secure video chat service, but none of them had a camera. Instead of a video feed, each showed an avatar representing the constellations they used as their code names. For security sake, none of them know the others’ real names.

  “You’re right,” Taurus said. “Strike fast and strike hard. He’ll be too dangerous once he figures out what he can do.” His avatar was a Minotaur, a battle hammer in his human hands, looming over a dead Greek warrior.

  “When and where? I’ve got some work to do to prepare.” When Andromeda spoke, her avatar appeared on the screen: a fair maiden, akimbo atop a flat rock, a slain sea serpent bobbing in the water. “Unless you guys know how to sew costumes? Or make explosives?” She didn’t mind handling the arts and crafts portion of their jobs, but she did enjoy giving the others a hard time about it.

  Taurus didn’t take the bait. “We probably have a week, maybe two before he really figures out what he’s doing. As for where, I’ve got it narrowed down to a couple of spots. I just shot you both the specifics for each of them. We need to prepare both locations, so we have a fallback if anything goes wrong.”

  “Got it,” Andromeda said, pulling up the file on her screen.

  Orion’s avatar blinked onto the screen, a cartoon drawing of Elmer Fudd. “An abandoned warehouse and an abandoned factory? Did you get these out of Supervillainy for Dummies?” Orion had clearly opened the file as well.

  “They’re private. And they offer tactical advantages that we can use, since we know the locations in advance. They’ll be hard for him to adapt to, given his limited experience. They’re solid locations. Some cliches exist because they’re actually good ideas.”

  “And all that bare concrete should give you some good reverb for your Big Bad Guy speech,” Orion said. “Right T?”

  The mute icon appeared on Taurus’ avatar, and he didn’t answer for a moment. Andromeda could picture him screaming profanities into his muted microphone. When he replied, his voice was calm. “There won’t be any speeches Orion. This job is all about efficiency. We’re getting paid really well to keep things smooth, and to keep the boss out of it. No speeches. No taunting. No capturing him and explaining the plan in detail. This isn’t a comic book, so don’t treat it like one.”

  “Ok, ok, don’t get your tights in a bunch. I’m just yankin’ your chain.”

  “You boys can keep flirting if you want, but I have work to do,” Andromeda said. “I’m going to scout these locations so we can come up with solid plans.”

  “Hey Annie, make sure to gas up the Mystery Machine before you go. Wouldn’t want to get stranded in one of these spooky locations.” Andromeda swore Orion never missed an opportunity to annoy her.

  “I’ve asked you nicely not to call me that. Do it again and you might find a chunk of C4 in your sock drawer one morning. Hell hath no fury like a demolitions expert scorned.”

  “Hey, if it means you were in my bedroom, I might just take it.”

  Andromeda shook her head as she clicked the chat’s close button. Why did she work with these people?

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Come on. You’re charcoal. You want to be on fire. This is what you do. Just do it already.”

  Chuck slumped, burying his face in his hands. He’d spent two hours trying to light the grill. At first, he couldn’t believe the charcoal wouldn’t light like the candle had several nights prior. Then he got angry. So angry he would either have to replace a grill brush and a pair of tongs, or send a search party for them in the woods behind the house. He moved on to bargaining with the coals, offering to cook a nice juicy steak over them, so they could catch the delicious drippings. When that didn’t work, he became severely depressed, sobbing and whimpering at the coals to just, please, for the love of god, light. He hadn’t quite moved on to acceptance, but figured it wouldn’t be long.

  “Still at it?” Penny stepped out onto the deck, her voice temporarily snapping Chuck out of his depression.

  “Yeah honey,” he said, trying to sound chipper. “Still plugging away. I think I had a little smoke a minute ago.”

  “You don’t have to put on a brave front baby. I heard you sobbing through the screen. Any idea why you can’t get it to work?”

  Chuck shoulders slumped. “None. Not a single clue. I can get calm, though that’s getting harder to do the longer this goes. I can feel the heat inside me, so I’m not on empty. As far as I can tell, I’m picturing the same connection between the heat and the charcoal that I did with the candle. It’s just not working. I even put lighter fluid on it. That just made me a little dizzy. No sparks, no smoke, nothing. I’m at a loss.”

  Penny rubbed his shoulders. “Need me to walk you through a meditation?”

  “No thanks. I don’t think that’s the problem. It’s getting easier and easier to feel the energy inside me. I just can’t get it to do what I want it to do.”

  “Well, maybe you should call it a night. I’ve got the kids in bed. A beer and a little mindless TV might be the cure you’re looking for.” She swung around him and put her hands around the back of his neck, looking into his eyes seductively. “And, if you take the cape off for a while, maybe I can find something even better to get your mind off this stuff.”

  Chuck leaned down and kissed her, tenderly. “Thanks Pen, but my heart wouldn’t be in it.”

  She shot him an exaggerated wink. “It’s not your heart I want big guy.”

  He grinned. “Well, if you just want to use me, who am I to argue?”

  Penny collapsed against her pillow and cooed. “I really hope your heart ended up being in that. If not, I don’t think I could take it when you were turned on.”

  She rolled toward Chuck, seeing the look of deep concentration on his face. “Still brooding?”

  He snapped out of his trance and turned toward her. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess.”

  She smiled at him. “Normally I’d give you a hard time about how sleeping with me used to be enough to improve your mood, but I’m too tired right now. Let’s cut to the chase. You know what you need to do, right?”

  “No, but I’m pretty sure you’re about to tell me.”

  She punched him on the arm, harder than he thought necessary. He didn’t flinch. “Do you remember when you decided you had missed your calling in life, and all you really wanted to be was a jazz pianist?”

  “How could I forget? I was going to be the next Thelonious.”

  “Do you remember buying every ‘Learn Jazz Piano in 17 Days’ kind of book you could find? And spending night after night plucking out terrible renditions of jazz standards?”

  Chuck bristled. “They were not terrible. I was getting pretty good there at—“

  “Oh, stop it,” she interrupted. “They were horrendous. You were an awful piano player. But you kept at it for months, diligently plugging away at it. When the books weren’t working, you moved to DVDs. When the DVDs didn’t work, you found videos online. You went through every resource you could trying to find something that worked.”

  “You’re saying I’m determined and persistent, and willing
to change methods if something isn’t working?”

  “No, baby, that’s not quite what I’m saying. I mean, all that is true, to a point. But my real point is that, while you’re willing to put in the work, and willing to learn, you’re not willing to have anyone help you. You insist on going it alone. Sometimes that works. You’re an excellent lover, for example, and I’m assuming you’re self-taught.”

  “I never told you about the male escort apprenticeship I did right after high school?”

  Penny ignored him. “But sometimes you can’t figure it out on your own. You need help. Do you see where I’m going now?”

  “I think so. I’ll check to see if the community college has a ‘Controlling Your Super Powers’ course I can sign up for.”

  She gave him her best Mom stare. The unblinking one. The one that could elicit a confession from the most hardened of criminals. The one that, apparently, every mom on the planet learned sometime in their third trimester.

  “Ok, ok,” he said, turning away from her. “I’ll call him.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Pray I don’t alter it any further.” Chuck sat at his desk, mumbling under his breath. “That’s what you get, Lando. Stupid double-crosser.” Despite the fact that Lando had eventually come around and become a hero of the rebellion, Chuck had never really forgiven him. He sighed and closed the document on his computer for what seemed like the 15th time. He knew he was supposed to be calling Mickey. Or working. But every time he tried he found himself somehow distracted. Mostly by reading the shooting script for The Empire Strikes Back.

  He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, again. His thumb hovered over Mickey’s entry, poised to press it.

  “Hey Chuck, have you finished that audit of the expenses for the Global Search Alliance Conference yet?” It was Joe, finishing his sentence before he even made it around Chuck’s cubicle. He arrived in the cube’s opening and took a tiny sip from his “World’s Awesomest Boss” mug. Chuck was pretty sure Joe had bought that mug for himself. Not that he was a bad boss, per se. But if Chuck had selected a mug it would say “World’s Averagest Boss”.

  “Just about done. Should have it by this afternoon. A few irregularities to comb through, but nothing major.” Chuck hadn’t looked at the expenses yet, but there were always a few things out of order on an event this size, so he was pretty sure he was safe. And he could have them done this afternoon, if he managed to focus for more than 30 seconds.

  “Keep me posted. I’ve got to get it up the ladder, and I don’t want to look like an idiot to the higher ups.”

  “Will do,” Chuck said, hoping that was the end of the conversation.

  Joe took another sip and smiled. He looked like he was fishing for something to keep the conversation going. Failing, he turned and walked back toward his office.

  Chuck picked up his phone again and stared at the name. A notification appeared, telling him he had an email. He pressed it and checked his email for the 87th time since he got to work.

  The doorstep of the trailer was exactly how he remembered it. But the neighborhood looked slightly worse. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but somehow it seemed both sadder and more menacing than the last time he’d been here. Perhaps it was the fact that the neighbor’s yard appeared to have been decorated with the broken remains of a high school chemistry class. He prayed Mickey was home, and that he answered the door quickly. He knocked three times. “Mickey?”

  After a few seconds, he heard noises from inside the trailer. Shuffling feet. A loud thud. The crash of something breakable hitting the floor.

  “Mickey? Are you ok? It’s me, Chuck.”

  Chuck heard fumbling against the door, clumsy hands struggling to find the knobs of the deadbolt. Finally, the deadbolt clicked open, and shortly after the door opened wide.

  “Chucky boy! I knew you’d come back!” Mickey stood in the doorway, clad in a pair of dirty boxer shorts and nothing else. His face bore the smug grin of someone witnessing their prediction coming true. He swayed, threatening to topple at any moment.

  “You ok? Can I come in?”

  “Never better. Step right in.” He stumbled to the side and held out a shaky arm, ushering Chuck inside.

  Chuck slid past him, his face slamming into a stench so powerful it seemed to have mass. Body odor mixed with stale booze and vomit. A lamp lay on the floor, shade askew and body broken. Empty beer and liquor bottles were strewn everywhere, their sheer number staggering. Chuck didn’t know whether to be aghast or impressed.

  “What’s wrong, Chuck?” Mickey’s words slurred together. “Don’t appreciate my redecorating?”

  “Jesus, Mickey. I’ve seen you drink me under the table and not feel a thing. How much did you have to drink to get to this state? Scratch that. I don’t really care how much. What I really want to know is why.”

  Mickey plopped himself into a recliner and leaned it back. “The answer to your first question is ‘a lot’. The answer to your second one is ‘none of your damn business’. Now I’ve got a question of my own. Your last words to me were, and I quote, ‘Have a nice life, Mickey’. Yet, here it is, what, four, five days later, and you show up at my door. So, Chuck, why are you here?” To punctuate the question, he unleashed a ear-splitting belch.

  Chuck swept some empty bottles off the room’s other chair, felt the cushion to make sure there wasn’t any lingering booze, and sat down. He let out a deep sigh. “I don’t often admit I’m wrong. Penny says it’s part of deep seated need to always be right. That it’s fundamentally against my nature. So, I gloss over apologies. Use sarcasm to avoid admitting I was wrong.”

  Mickey glanced at his fingernails. “Is there a point coming here? I’m a busy man, Chuck.”

  Chuck let out a gentle snort. “Yeah, I’ll get to the point and let you get back to your other appointments.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands in his lap. “I’m here because I was wrong to send you away. I was wrong to treat you the way I did. I agreed to the conditions you laid out, and you held up your end of the bargain. So, I’m here to apologize, and ask you to start training me again.”

  Mickey leaned back in his chair and scratched his bare chest. “Thank you, Chuck. That means a lot to me. I imagine that was hard for you to do.”

  Chuck sighed, relief washing over him. “You have no idea. Ok, so, when can we get started again?”

  Mickey smiled. “Oh, you seem to misunderstand me. I was just letting you know that your apology was accepted. I’m not going to train you.”

  “Wait, what? Why not?”

  “Two reasons. First, you had your chance. And you blew it. I don’t know if you’re one of those entitled ‘everyone gets a trophy’ guys, or you think life owes you second chances, but I don’t believe in that shit. Second, since we stopped working together, I’ve taken on another project. I don’t have time to train you anymore.”

  Chuck seethed. He couldn’t believe he had thrown himself on the mercy of this old drunk. “Another project? What other project? Drinking yourself to death?”

  Mickey shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what the other project is. Point is, I’m done with you. Actually, I’m not totally done with you. If you want to crack open a few beers and watch movies, that’s cool. You’re fun to hang out with. But I’m not going to train you to be a hero.”

  Chuck stood up and started pacing. “If you think drinking and watching movies will help me control this power I have, then I’m all for it. Because I can’t figure it out. I got a candle to light a couple of days ago, but nothing since then. I can feel the energy inside. But I can’t get it to come out. I can’t do this on my own, Mickey. And I’m afraid I’m going to lose control again and hurt someone.”

  Mickey sat up and looked at Chuck. “That’s quite the sob story. Let me guess, next you’re going to say I need to help you for the sake of your beautiful kids. Then you’ll probably call me out for being a selfish old man. Am I close, Chuck?”

  “Always a cou
ple moves ahead.” Chuck leaned into Mickey’s face, getting as close to it as his sense of smell would allow. “Look, let’s put all the cards on the table. You’re a miserable old bastard. But you’re going to help me. Because you feel guilty about not being there for Max when he needed you at the end. That’s gnawing at you. And it’s going to keep gnawing at you until you do something about it. So, you can sit here, trying to drink away that guilt. Or you can dry out, drop the attitude, and do what we both need you to do.”

  Mickey closed his eyes and sat still for a long time. Long enough that Chuck started to wonder whether the old man had passed out. Just when Chuck was about to walk over and shake him, he opened his eyes. “I’ll be at your house tomorrow at 6:00. Have hot dogs. And bourbon. Now, get out.”

  Chuck opened his mouth to thank him, but was cut off before he started.

  “I said get out. Now!”

  Chuck felt the beer bottle whiz past his ear before he heard it shatter on the wall behind him. He took the hint and showed himself out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A wisp of smoke appeared above the coals, so faint Chuck wouldn’t have seen it if he hadn’t been focusing on that precise spot. Chuck strained and the smoke grew more intense, becoming clearly visible. He pushed harder, and saw a small patch of coals start to glow a deep orange. Almost there, he thought. The orange glow faded and the smoke dissipated.

  “Dammit.” Chuck sighed and slumped his head onto his forearms.

  “Don’t get too down kid,” Mickey said. “That’s progress, right? You didn’t get that far doing it on your own, did you?”

  Chuck shook his head without lifting it from his arms. “I just don’t get it. That candle lit right up, and I feel like I’m doing the same things. I can tap into the energy inside me. Then I try to imagine a connection with where I want the energy to go. It worked the first time, but it won’t work now. What am I doing wrong?”