by Adam Graham
The gray-haired one bowed low before Lord Mocklieu. “We must flee before the might of Powerhouse. History tells it.”
Lord Mocklieu snorted. “After the calamity, history became all confused with the failure of the ancient electronics. What was fact or fiction also became warped so that myth and reality are mixed.”
The gray-haired one kissed Lord Mocklieu’s feet. “Powerhouse is not one to be toyed with. He has a flying surfboard, a power ring only vulnerable to the color yellow, plus he has retractable steel claws and can’t be killed.”
Powerhouse laughed. “You have my trademarks mixed up with far better heroes than me, but you don’t want to challenge the might of Powerhouse.”
Lord Mocklieu sneered. “What can you do against my future tech?”
Powerhouse imagined the ship becoming invisible.
The men in dresses screamed.
Lord Mocklieu snarled. “What did you do to my ship?”
Powerhouse smiled. “I changed its color.” He returned it to normal. “I could have imagined it gone. If you keep this up, I’ll strand you here.”
The gray haired one tugged on his master’s skirts. “My Lord, we must flee this time. Powerhouse’s might is too great for us.”
Lord Mocklieu glared. “But we have great technology.”
The old one said, “Sire, it is written Powerhouse turned back the alien invaders. If we defeat him now, then they’ll take over our planet before our technology has a chance to be great.”
Powerhouse added, “Plus you might kill your own ancestors in taking over the city.”
Lord Mocklieu scratched his forehead. “I didn’t think about that.” He shrugged. “I bow to your wisdom. This invading the past from the future thing isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”
“It never is.” People in the future were so stupid, he was wise to them?
Lord Mocklieu pointed northward. “Men, get this boat back to our own time. We’ll plan a coup the old-fashioned way.”
One of the crew said, “Yeah, at least we’ll be back to when men dress like men and don’t wear such loose-fitting leggings.”
What was that? “Excuse me?”
The gray-haired one kissed his boots. “A thousand pardons, Powerhouse, for this clod’s lack of respect. We know this is appropriate attire for the era.”
Lord Mocklieu scratched his head. “You mean they all fly around with jetpacks?”
The gray haired one rolled his eyes. “Yes, sire.”
“I guess it’s just as well we didn’t invade. Farewell, Powerhouse.”
The ship disappeared in a flash of light.
Powerhouse flew back to the police chief’s car. “It was just invaders from the future. I talked them into going back.”
The chief raised his eyebrows then smiled. “It’s a good thing you were in New York. You notice they didn’t try to invade Seattle.”
What was he getting at? “A good thing, since I wasn’t in Seattle.”
“Ah right, Powerhouse. You’ll need to fly over to Citi Field to get there in time for first pitch. I can drive. I just heard the traffic is all snarled up.”
“You’ll be there in time in, too. Traffic is no match for the might of Powerhouse. Now close the door, and I will fly us there.”
The New York Chief put up his hand. “I got a thing about heights.”
“The Seattle Chief of Police isn’t afraid of heights.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering. You’re the one who keeps comparing things to Seattle. I thought I should follow your example. Anyway, fare thee well, I’ll see you at Citi Field. Powerhouse away!” He flew over to Citi field and landed near the Mets dugout.
The Mets were taking their last warm ups. A woman with long black hair wore a gray pantsuit as she stood by the dugout. She gasped. “Powerhouse, it’s almost game time. You need to take pitching practice.”
“Wait, it’s just a first pitch. By the way, who are you?”
“I’m Deputy Mayor Tina Huerta. New York fans have high expectations. I wouldn’t want you to miss the plate.”
Powerhouse laughed. “I’ll give you a first pitch like has never been seen in history of humanity or baseball either.”
She patted him on the shoulder. “That sounds wonderful. Good luck.”
Powerhouse waited by the dugout until the public address announcer said, “Here to throw out the first pitch is the crime fighter, Powerhouse.”
He donned a pitcher’s glove on his left arm and grabbed a baseball. He jogged to the pitcher’s mound. Fans cheered.
Once they stopped, Powerhouse pointed at the catcher and then towards the dugout.
The catcher stood and took off his mask. Powerhouse imagined a note in front of the catcher’s face saying, “Stand aside. I have this.”
A rumble rose from the crowd. One loud fan screamed, “You bum! He has to stand ten feet from the plate to catch.”
That guy’s tune would change soon enough. Powerhouse wound up and fired a fastball towards the plate. He changed his glove into a catcher’s mitt, ran at eight hundred miles an hour to the plate, crouched, and caught the ball.
The crowd cheered.
Powerhouse stood and waved.
Grumpy snorted. “Showoff!”
Powerhouse frowned. He wasn’t showing off, was he?
He jogged to where the Mets players were standing and stood with his hand on his heart for the national anthem.
Imagining food into existence would cheat the ballpark. Best to set a good example for the fans. He jetted to the concession stand. Leaving with hot dogs and beers were the mugger and the cop who’d arrested him.
The mugger was dressed in a sports coat over a t-shirt and brown pants. The cop was wearing a black sleeveless dress that went to mid-thigh, exposing half of a black rose tattoo.
Powerhouse stared hard. “Officer, you’re a little chummy with someone you arrested.”
The short man swallowed while the woman stared.
“It’s like this Powerhouse.” She put together her hands and the mugger’s hands. “I held his hand when fingerprinting him, and I knew he was the man for me. So, I’ve turned my back on everything I know because my love for him is as an ocean. Even the line between criminal and police is no match for the power of true love.”
Powerhouse blinked. “My light bulb may be dim, but it’s not out.”
The little man broke out in nervous laughter.
The woman sniffed and started speaking with a thick Brooklyn accent. “I just confessed my undying love for you.”
“Darling, I’m sorry, but he’s right. That storyline is so cheesy, I refuse to perform it,” the mugger said in a voice like he was on Masterpiece Theater.
“But you were laughing at my love for you?”
“Nay, good lady, our love is deeper than the sappy story you told. Our love is out of Shakespeare. It is deeper than—”
Powerhouse cleared his throat. “I’m still here, Mr. and Mrs. Actor.”
The actor bowed. “Oh right. We were hired as the warm up act for the Midget Ninja.”
“Since when do supervillains have warm up acts?”
“The deputy major hired me saying it was a publicity effort.”
Powerhouse’s cell phone rang and he imagined it picking up. “Hello.”
“It’s Miss Invisible. I just got off the phone with my friend at Riker’s, and the Midget Ninja didn’t escape. He was let out.”
Powerhouse pounded his fist into his left hand. “Evil is afoot, and the deputy mayor is part of this daring, deceitful, dastardly, devious deviltry.”
Miss Invisible whistled. “Wow, a five word alliteration. You are mad.”
“I’ll find the deputy mayor and demand an explanation.”
“Just don’t jump to any conclusions, big guy.”
“I never do. Talk to you later.” He scowled at the actors. “As for you, never deign to dally in such deceitful doings ag
ain.”
The male actor bowed. “If we shadows have offended, think but this; and all is mended, that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear and this weak and idle theme no more yielding but a dream.”
Powerhouse blinked. “I’m pretty sure, I’m awake.”
The woman sighed. “He was trying to be high class. Look mister, we’re just two working actors. You got a complaint, take it up with the union.”
No way was he dealing with a union. “Just be careful next time.”
Powerhouse activated his jet pack and glided above the fans through the stadium, near the luxury box seats. Deputy Mayor Tina Huerta stood outside a box. She grinned. “Hey, your first pitch has been on all three ESPNs already.”
Powerhouse crossed his arms. “What did you mean by hiring two actors to play a police officer and a thug and letting Midget Ninja out of prison?”
The Deputy Mayor blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, and then there were those supposed time travelers.”
“Time travelers?”
“Don’t play dumb. I’m better at that game.” Powerhouse snorted. Wait, that didn’t come out right. “I just ran into them, and Miss Invisible called to tell me Midget Ninja didn’t escape. What do you say to that? Are you going to try and tell me I’m asleep?”
She cursed like a time-traveling longshoreman. “I should’ve known she’d interfere. That jealous ally cat doesn’t want you to replace her as New York’s greatest real life superhero.”
“That makes two of us. Seattle’s my home. I’m not moving here.”
“Powerhouse, haven’t you been paying attention? Your battle with the Midget Ninja in Rockefeller Plaza received coverage on every channel’s nightly news and was a topic on evening talk shows. You’ll finally have the exposure you deserve here. You’ll have your own Broadway musical, and maybe a TV show, and you’d earn more royalties than you could ever imagine.”
There must be a catch. “What do you get out of this?”
“I get the coup of bringing you here, and New York City finally gets a real superhero.”
Powerhouse put up his hand. “What? Miss Invisible’s here.”
“Ooh, Miss Invisible can make herself disappear. Big deal, I can do the same thing in Times Square. This is New York. We deserve the world’s best heroes. We want someone who’s big, strong, and loaded with sex appeal.”
Him? He burst out laughing. “If you’re looking for someone who looks good in cologne ads, then stick with what you’ve got. She’s a supermodel with amazing martial arts skill.”
“She’s not the best. You could be king. You could sleep in a penthouse in Manhattan.”
He’d rather sleep in a bungalow in Bryerton. “I’m not some athlete you can lure to New York with promises of more money and a championship team. I’m going back to my hotel.”
She grabbed his arm like a desperate child. “Maybe I’ve blown this, but you can’t leave without saying hello to the mayor. He wants to meet you. If he finds out why you left, it could cost me my job and ruin my career.” She sent him a pleading doe eyed look. “Please.”
“I should let you face the consequences for your deception, but if I do, you might lose your job and become a supervillain. So, I’ll see the mayor.”
She cupped her hands. “Just a moment while I get his attention. He’s on the phone.” She went into the box.
Powerhouse tapped his foot. I’m so thirsty. I got sidetracked when I saw the fake cop and crook that I forgot to get myself a drink. Perhaps, if no fans are looking, it isn’t a bad example to cheat vendors who overcharge people. He superimaged a sixty-four ounce glass full of root beer and ice into existence. He sipped it.
The Deputy Mayor returned. “The Mayor will see you now.”
Powerhouse entered the luxury box suite.
“Mr. Mayor, this is Power—” She gasped and dived towards the pop cup. “No!”
Powerhouse moved to save his soda and glanced at the mayor.
The mayor clutched his glass of wine and snarled, glaring at Powerhouse.
Powerhouse said, “What did I do?”
Naomi burst through the swinging, saloon-style doors of Mike’s Coffee House. Gene Autry sang, “Back in the Saddle Again” from the stereo. The aroma of fresh ground coffee beans was in the air. Wagon wheels and wanted posters adorned the walls. Rustic, country rocking chairs filled the restaurant. A bulletin board on a post had an invitation to something called a “Cowboy Church.” Naomi ambled to the bar where the TV was on a news channel.
Sitting behind the bar was a guy in a cowboy hat, a white western shirt with pearl buttons, and a bolo tie. He had short gray hair and a handlebar mustache. He spoke with a Texas drawl. “What can I get you for you, Darlin’, a sarsaparilla float fit for a trail boss?”
Anything but her boring usual. Though, with her powers, she could get away with a jumbo-sized Frappe flavored like a root beer float without gaining a pound, but that would be, well, it’d be too far out there. “I’ll have a medium Peppermint Frappe.”
Mike grinned. “You know we don’t have mediums.”
Why were coffee houses like that? “Monsieur, I’ll have the Cowhand’s size, s'il vous plait.”
“That I have.” Mike set to work making the drink.
Naomi looked up at the television. A news host sat on their usual set, but it was decorated in red, white, and blue. The caption below the host read, “The Mayor v. the Superhero.” The host said, “Joining us to discuss the controversy, from Citi Field in Flushing, is Powerhouse.”
Powerhouse stood outside a stadium holding a large soda. “Hello? I can’t see you, but I can hear you. Wow, I never knew it was like this on this type of interview. It’s freaky.”
The host cleared his throat. “It’s definitely an experience, my friend. First of all, I just want to say you’re a great American.”
Powerhouse hesitated. “Well, thanks. That’s a nice way to start.”
“You are an American, right? You’re not like an alien in disguise?”
The caption changed to: “Is Powerhouse an Alien?”
“No, that would be a much older, far greater superhero than me.”
The caption changed to, “Powerhouse is a Great American.”
“I want to get your reaction to the Mayor’s statement, ‘Powerhouse is a bad example to young people and a plague on society that can’t be tolerated. And all good government should oppose vigilante activists of such high caloric consumption.’ What’s your reaction?”
Powerhouse scratched his helmet. “I didn’t know J Jonah Jameson was real and had been elected Mayor of New York City.”
The caption changed to, “Powerhouse: Mayor is like Spider-man Villain.”
The host blinked. “That’s not the Mayor’s name.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, but let me ask you, what led you to protest the Mayor’s tyrannical attempt to control the people of New York?”
“Don’t make this political,” Powerhouse took a sip of soda. “I am never thirsty to make a political statement. Let’s focus on what matters. Tonight, I was thirsty for sugary soda, my fellow great Americans, but I’m always thirsty for justice and mercy. I’d encourage everyone to get a Big Gulp full of that.”
The caption on the TV changed to, “Powerhouse urges Americans to all buy Big Gulps.”
The host swallowed. “Okay, thanks for joining us.”
“It was nice to be with you, though I’m really standing in a parking lot.”
Mike turned off the TV. “Got to love that Powerhouse. He’s as innocent as a lamb.”
As savvy as one, too. Naomi tapped her nails on the bar.
The saloon doors swung open. A man entered with a full day’s growth of beard wearing a black trench coat and ruffled western shirt.
He stomped up to the bar. “I want whiskey.”
Mike said softly, “Fresh out, Gary. Would you like an Irish Crème latte?’
/>
“I want a man’s drink!” He stared around the bar. “You bunch of latte-drinking sissies, this place was operated by my family for ninety years. It was a saloon until this snake won it from my father in a card game. I say he cheated.”
Mike put up a hand. “Gary, I’ve had many vices in my day, but cheatin’ at cards has never been one of them.”
Gary glared. “I accept a man cheatin’ at cards better than my pappy did. I can’t accept you gettin’ religion and sellin’ that nasty, imported coffee instead of fine, American whiskey. It ever occur to you that coffee is addictive?”
“Tell you what, son. When somebody beats their kid to death because they had too many lattes, I’ll close. Now Gary, I’d suggest you get along home before I have to call the sheriff.”
“Ooh, I’d better get out of town! I’d hate for that little girl to put my hair in pigtails and throw me a tea party.” Gary snorted. “Only an old, weak, wimp asks a woman to do your dirty work for you. Well, I’m not going far.” Gary left through the swinging doors.
Mike spread his hands to Naomi. “Ma’am, I’m sorry about that. He gets upset and comes in here every month or so.”
“Understood, Monsieur.” She leaned in. “Will you be okay?”
“He knows I pack heat. He won’t take the risk.”
“A coward himself, then, no?”
“Your words, ma’am.” Mike tipped his hat. “I’ve seen you in town a few times. Have you considered comin’ to the Cowboy Church?”
What did cowboys and church have in common? “It sounds intriguing, but I am never here on Sundays.”
“Well, if you’d like to come by, you’d be most welcome.”
“Thank you. I’ll be heading back tonight. It is lovely place.”
Mike stared off towards the door. “I came here when I was fourteen and made it my life ambition to stay here. Making a living over the last fifty years has been tough, but the life I got here is worth it.”
Naomi sighed. It must be great to know what you want and to have it.
“Ma’am?”
“I’d better leave. I have tasks to attend to tomorrow.” Naomi headed for the exit, looked around, and walked towards her Mercedes.
Gary jumped out in front of her “Howdy, ma’am.”