“I hate time travel so much,” Colbie says. “You go into the past and you’ve never heard about Domina Tricks and then you come back and she’s been in this timeline for decades.”
“Well, we knew about her,” Jason says. “We just didn’t understand the connection. Anyway, by ’78, she’s gone full-blown sex villain. I mean, she’s capturing heroes and tying them up and doing mind control with them. She’s like some twisted version of those old Batman and Wonder Woman TV shows where the bad guys are always tying up the good guys and putting them in big tubs of oil or something.”
“Ew.”
“Yes, ew,” Jason says without much conviction and a concerted effort to ignore his own internal stirrings. “Thing is, she was never all that dangerous. It’s like she did it for kicks or something and she never actually hurt anyone. The heroes wouldn’t ever turn her in because, well, they were too proud, I suppose, to go to the cops and say this hot woman in latex boots caught then, tied them up, and maybe gave them a boner or a happy ending before they escaped. Rather harmless, all things considered.”
“But you said mind control,” Colbie reminds him. “That’s dangerous.”
“It is,” he nods, “but again, she never used it on anyone who didn’t wear a costume, so it falls into the pride category, too.”
“What happened?”
Jason takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Francis has never discussed this with you?”
The teenager shakes her head.
“Right, then. Her path crosses with Rapscallion’s a few times over the years,” he explains in a low voice, wondering if perhaps he should just give her the Amulet of Anamnesis and let the magical item take care of all this. “In the ‘80s, though, the superhero game starts to get dark. The ‘70s were weird, but it was like this unsettled time when heroes first started to show the cracks and reveal that they weren’t perfect. The community was still tight, though. Then the ‘80s came and everything started getting dark and gritty. Heroes start getting grimmer. The villains, too.” He pauses, not wanting to go on, but knowing he has to. “And Domina starts doing more than causing boners, if you catch my meaning.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” he says. “And Francis …”
“Oh, god,” Colbie says. “I’m going to throw up.”
“The way it was explained to me,” Jason says, lying because it was never explained to him but shown by the amulet, “Francis, well, he liked it.”
“I’m gonna throw up all over your fucking car.”
“Like I said, the ‘80s became a grim time to be a superhero and Francis was never into that. You know how he idolizes all those WW2 and Atomic heroes of the ‘60s, yeah? I think to Francis it was all a game, really. Rapscallion never really was one of the best heroes, right? He was always there, always doing his part, but it’s not like he was ever a serious candidate for the Revolutionaries.”
“That’s because—”
“He was a street hero? A loner?” Jason asks, rolling his eyes, and shifting into a higher gear. “He’s a billionaire playing dress up. Shit, he watched all those old TV shows, too, you know, so when Domina first came across his radar, he went looking for her. She wasn’t a San Fran villain, at all. She had no national rep, really. There were rumors between the heroes ‘in the know’ about her, but who pays attention to what goes on in Nashville? Well, Francis hears about it and goes to Nashville, looking for her. Tells me he felt a connection to her. He gets caught and escapes, and next thing you know, Domina is operating out of San Francisco. She became his nemesis for a while. His nemesis.”
“This is so sick!”
“Remember, he didn’t understand who Domina really was until we time traveled. In 1999. So for over twenty years, Francis thought Domina was just some sorta kinky villain, not his time-and-space-displaced sort-of daughter.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this? Why didn’t anyone tell me this?” Colbie asks, freaking out enough to actually break the plastic coffee mug in her hand, spilling what little bit of the brown liquid that was left over her and the RX-8’s dashboard.
“Because she’s dead,” Jason insists.
“How do you know that?” Colbie asks.
Jason steps on the gas, foolishly hoping to outrun the answer to that question.
PART EIGHT
INTERLUDE
1997
1
Jason is struggling in chemistry class. With his mother dead and his father not having any interest in denying Jason’s desire to go to high school, the fifteen-year old boy has been enrolled in a local high school. He is fifteen and plagued by dreams of Sandra Flack doing things to him in the dead of night. He knows these things couldn’t actually have happened, but are the dangerous actualizations of the guilt he feels for failing to stop the man who killed her, Corazón Sangrante.
He takes this on faith because this is what his psychiatrist says.
“Focus on someone else,” Dr. Gale Olerf tells him. “There is nothing wrong with masturbating, Jason, but fantasies about your dead mother are not healthy.”
“She was my adopted mother,” he protests weakly.
“Who else in your life appeals to you?” she asks.
He does not have the courage to say, “You,” so he says, “Mrs. Overing. My chemistry teacher.”
“Good,” Dr. Olef says. “That’s very good. Whenever you start to think about Sandra, think about Mrs. Overing instead.”
Jason does what he’s told. He feels better about himself, the woman in his dreams begins to look like Mrs. Overing, but his chemistry grades begin to suffer.
2
He hears several of his classmates talking about Mrs. Overing in lunch period one day. They insist that if you get detention with her, she takes off her sweater, allowing everyone a better view at “her huge fucking jugs.” Jason feels his anger flare up inside of him at the thought of someone else sexualizing Mrs. Overing. She’s his fantasy, he thinks, and storms out of the cafeteria.
3
Jason sneaks into the locker room, using the skills Francis has taught him about picking locks, wanting to be alone so he can not think about Mrs. Overing or her sweaters or whether his classmates were right or not. It’s hard, of course, because her class is next and she is wearing a very tight, purple sweater today, and he wants to …
He looks around, sees that he’s alone, and decides to think about Mrs. Overing a lot, instead of not at all.
4
Jason is in the stall around the corner from the main part of the locker room when he hears the lock on the outer door open. It’s Mr. Maldon, telling someone to “hush” and “it will be alright” and “no one can know about this.” There is kissing happening between these words.
Standing as still as possible because he does not know what else to do, his mind tries to figure out which teacher Mr. Maldon has brought into the gym with him. He begins to worry that it is Mrs. Overing and his sudden flare of passion for her is so intense it shocks him. He has to know if it is her.
He has to.
Pulling his pants on, Jason quietly slides out from under the stall, moves to the edge of the wall, and peaks around the corner.
“Thank God, it’s not Mrs. Overing,” is the first thought that races through his mind, but then he sees it is a mousy girl who’s a year behind him. He doesn’t know her name but he sees the tears in her eyes and he sees her trying to say, “No,” but Mr. Maldon’s hands are on her head and he’s forcing himself into her mouth.
“That’s it, you ugly little bitch,” he sneers. “No one else will ever want you.”
Mr. Maldon pushes her head back off of him, leans down, and spits on her face.
5
It’s Mrs. Overing who is first into the locker room. She heard Mr. Maldon screaming in pain and for help, but the door was locked, so she had to get the key from the janitor, and when she walks into room to see the new kid beating the hell out of Mr. Maldon, her first thought is to pull him off of the g
ym teacher. But then she sees Heather Thompsill crying and she sees Mr. Maldon’s sweatpants around his ankles, and she understands what has happened.
She allows Jason to continue punching the old pervert until he has managed to break both of Maldon’s arms. There is something about how Jenson? Jason? is destroying Maldon that ignites something dangerous inside of her. She wishes it was her delivering the beating.
6
It is a week later and Jason rolls off Mrs. Overing. It is a Thursday night and Mr. Overing is working the night shift at the box store that sells everything at a discounted rate.
Both of them feel foolish and ashamed and neither one of them understands why they cross and cross and cross this boundary. They both know they are doing the same thing Jason beat up Mr. Maldon for, yet the more they think this, the more they become determined to cross this line, again.
“I should go,” Jason says.
“Yes … no … I don’t … God, what is wrong with me?” Mrs. Overing asks. “We need to stop. I don’t know why I’m doing this!”
“Me either!”
“We have to stop, Jason! We have to!”
They don’t.
7
It is a month later and two police officers barge into a board meeting at Flack Farmaceutical, the latest corporate takeover and rebranding undertaken by Francis Flack’s venture capital firm.
“What is the meaning of this?” Francis demands, but the officers announce, “You are under arrest,” and bring him into a side office.
8
“Oh my God,” Francis says as the video cassette plays on the TV in his office. The two blue shirts have wait outside as Francis stands with a detective. “Who is that woman?”
“Her name is Mrs. Overing,” Detective Harrison Ho informs him. “She is Jason’s chemistry teacher. You had no idea this was taking place?”
“This? No, God no,” he says. “Sandra … my wife, she was murdered last year …”
“I remember,” Detective Ho nods. “Corazón Sangrante.”
“Er, yes,” Francis nods, turning away from the TV. “She did most of the parenting, I’m afraid. Jason and I … well, he’s been having trouble with his chemistry grades. He stays after school quite a bit and … oh God,” he says, turning back to the TV. “Is that how this started?”
“We believe it started a month ago,” he says. “A gym teacher at the school, a Mr. Maldon, turned in his resignation and left without saying a word as to why, but he showed up in a Los Angeles hospital with severe injuries.”
“Severe?”
“Broken bones, internal bleeding.”
Francis thinks of the Peak serum he has been injecting into Jason. “You don’t think Jason had anything to do with that, do you?”
“We don’t think so, no,” Detective Ho answers. “The injuries are not consistent with what a fifteen-year old kid could produce. But one other student, a Heather Thompsill, has revealed that Mr. Maldon was abusing her.”
“That’s awful, but, erm, how does that connect with Jason?”
“We’re not entirely sure, to be honest, but yesterday afternoon a box of videotapes arrived at SFPD, and—”
“A box!? You mean, there’s more of these?”
Detective Ho nods.
Behind Francis’ back, the tape rolls on. He hears the following exchange:
“I should go,” Jason says.
“Yes … no … I don’t … God, what is wrong with me?” Mrs. Overing asks. “We need to stop. I don’t know why I’m doing this!”
“Me either!”
“We have to stop, Jason! We have to!”
Francis swallows and closes his eyes and knows that Domina Tricks has come back into his life.
“How much?” he asks.
“Excuse me?” Detective Ho asks.
“How much money will it take to make these tapes go away?”
9
“You promised you would leave!” Rapscallion pleads.
He is inside an abandoned factory. Mrs. Overing is dead in a pool of her own blood. Jason is restrained by ropes on a cross, hanging from the ceiling but parallel to it and the floor. Domina stands beneath him, smiling victoriously.
“I did leave, and now I am back, father.”
“Jesus, Domina, how the hell was I supposed to know I was your father?!” he asks, tears pouring down his cheeks. “I didn’t even know I had a child! And your older than you should be!”
“Your defense is that you never talked to mother after impregnating her?” she asks. “How mature! Not that I would expect anything less from a grown man who runs around in tights.”
“You’re sick!”
“Everyone in a costume is sick!” she counters. “Just not as sick as you, fath—!”
The gun is out of his pocket and the bullet is through her skull before Francis even realizes what he has done.
PART
EIGHT
2002
continued
9
“How do I know Domina’s dead?” Jason asks. “Because I was there when Francis put a bullet through that bitch’s brain.”
10
Transcript from THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA V. RAPSCALLION
August 18, 2002
DISTRICT ATTORNY CALDWELL SANCHEZ
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I will make my opening remarks short and to the point. We are here to put the hero known as Rapscallion on trial for the crime of child abuse. It is the contention of the state of California that Rapscallion has engaged in a pattern of behavior dangerous to the welfare of two young children: Kid Rapscallion, his first sidekick, and Indigo Impster, his current protege.
I will demonstrate, through evidence collected via the increased powers granted to law enforcement through the Vigilante Act, that Rapscallion abused Kid Rapscallion and Indigo Impster by forcing them to enter the superhero life, by placing them in unsafe work conditions, by seducing them to engage in activities beyond their capabilities, and most damningly, by forcefully drugging fifteen-year old children with a super steroid solution created by Flack Farmaceuticals.
I know some of you are likely troubled by how quickly this trial has been assembled. The Vigilante Act was passed only six months ago, yet here we are at trial. There is a reason for that, and it is not, as the defense will argue, because of prosecutorial zeal to make an example of one of the masked men that allowed 9/11 to happen. No, my investigation into Rapscallion on these charges has been taking place for years, when San Francisco Police Detective Harrison Ho first came to me five years ago with a troubling story of two separate instances of child abuse that can be connected to Rapscallion, and an attempted bribe to make evidence disappear. I have worked tirelessly over the past five years investigating these claims, but Rapscallion — and other heroes, I might add — have continually stonewalled me. It was only when Congress gave law enforcement the power of the Vigilante Act that I was able to make progress in this investigation.
So when the defense tells you I am in a rush to prosecute, ask yourself two questions: First, do the vigilantes who failed to protect us really see five years of hard work as a “rush to prosecute” a child abuser? And second, why would should we listen to anyone who would offer a shield of protection for a man responsible for ruining the lives of two children who were seduced by a glamorous life they were not ready to handle?
11
Nancy sits in the courtroom, dutifully taking notes. She has ordered Jason to have no contact with her during the trial. They are both aware that a trial can move in strange directions and secrets that have no business being discovered can be revealed. Jason has his own issues to deal with beyond the trial of his mentor, desperately attempting to find someone he will not name.
“Psst, hey college buddy,” a voice whispers in her ear.
Nancy turns around to see Kira Erdrich staring back at her.
12
“I’ve been watching your reports on the rise of 20-Sided Dice,” Kira says as the two women sit in
a bustling diner near the courthouse. “It’s really good stuff. I mean, it’s obvious you’ve got an inside source, of course, but we need them to get the good stuff, don’t we?”
“We do.”
“So you’re saying it’s not Kid Rapscallion?”
Nancy drops her fork into her salad and sighs. “Is that what this is about?”
Kira takes a large bite out of a bean and cheese burrito. “The DA knows his secret identity,” he tells Nancy. “He knows his and Impster’s and Rapscallion’s, too. One of the flaws of the Vigilantes Act is that it does not allow a prosecutor to out the identity of a recognized superhero in open court.” Kira grins. “But that doesn’t apply to reporters.”
“You’re going to out his identity?” Nancy asks. “Why?”
“Oh, I’m going to do more than that,” Kira promises. “I’m going to out you, too, and the fact that you have been covering for … Jason … all these years. Your career as a reporter is over once this trial finishes, Nancy. Maybe two years ago people would be understanding of a reporter protecting her source, but do you think anyone is going to be sympathetic when they find out that you were protecting him from being brought up on murder charges for the killing of Duplication Girl?”
“Ja-Kid Rapscallion is not a murderer!”
“Maybe he didn’t swipe the blade across her throat, but maybe all of that cocaine he fed her makes him culpable. So maybe he’s not a murderer, but maybe he is guilty of manslaughter. Not that the public will ever have a chance to decide. I’m taking you down, Nancy.”
“Why tell me?” Nancy asks, her face red and her palms sweaty.
Used to Be: The Kid Rapscallion Story Page 14