RECAP:  My mouth dried. “I have-”

“-no idea what you’re talking about yada yada you don’t have powers yada yada leave me alone before I call the cops yada yada – we can play this super cat and reluctant mouse game for as long as you like, Paul.” He smirked. “Stay in school, kid.” He saluted and exited the bathroom

The exhalation was short. It would seem as if I did, in fact, have a stalker of the super variety on my hands. One that was smarter than he may let on. The stuff with the mayor goes without saying.

All that left me with the tempting thought to bang my head against the wall in the hopes that this was just a very long and extremely vivid nightmare. I rested my head against the cold, hard tiled wall and sighed for the millionth time this past hour. “What even is my life.”

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"Not wanting to fall unconscious after battling Tarantula on a ship, Spidey thinks...."and i'll be helpless to keep anyone from unmasking me, ...from ending Spider-Man's career forever." - Peter Parker, The Amazing Spider man #44

Issue #4 "It's a Trap!"

Daunte's picture on the side!

Let’s talk about mistakes.

 A mistake, by definition according to some site I pulled it off is an error in action, calculation, opinion, or judgment caused by poor reasoning, carelessness, insufficient knowledge, etcetera.

 I, over the course of my near two decade existence, give or take a few boring, uneventful birthdays, was prone to making some horrible, horrible mistakes.

 This one time, I woke up and literally forgot to pee. Now, now, that may not sound bad, in fact it sounds like something to roll your eyes at quickly, but take into account that it was unbearably hot that morning, I had physical Education that afternoon and had just swallowed three bottles of water. Then, take into account that I was tinkle shy and most of the boys in my PE class had quite large…packages (not that I looked or anything) and I was just average.

Now do you see the mistake?

I was prone to making bad, horrible mistakes that would do irreparable damage to my life, self-esteem and bladder. Which shouldn’t have been a surprise.  Because, I myself, was a mistake.

My mom and Dad planned to not have kids, ever. The explanation was always about body weight, baby poop and irreversible stretch marks (and that’s just Dad’s reasons). But thanks to God, a bottle of Chardonnay, a broken condom and the inability to pull out, I was conceived on one rainy March night in 1995 to the smooth sounds of The Price is Right that was playing on the television at the time.

And so, whenever my parents brought up the fact that I had done something wrong or I screwed something up to near irreversible proportions, I always countered with “well, you act as if I’m the only one that makes mistakes!”

Mom would always pucker her lips, strap her hands to her waist, cock her hips to the side and bark, “Name mistakes that I have ever made that you know of!”

And then I’d point to myself with both hands, both on either one of my undefined man boobies and say, as slowly and as intricately as phonetically possible “ME.”

 So, the concept of making a mistake wasn’t that foreign to me. Not at all. So, one could say that I was keen on spotting and identifying a mistake while it was in action or, even before it occurred.

Take today for example.

Principal Poultry had disrupted our class today to call an emergency student body assembly among the senior males. And while the normal teenager would rejoice at the very thought of missing Calculus at 9:am, an assembly in the auditorium/gymnasium in which we are were packed and sealed in like tuna fish isn’t exactly the paradise you’d expect.

But that was only Principal Poultry’s first mistake (not counting his last name). He had also, for whatever reason invited the police department here with a special guess in tow to talk to us about ‘Crime against Authority Figures’.

He stood in the center of the gym floor where they played basketball, with his hands latched to his hips, his eyes peaking above his glasses and is badly fitted wig slightly lying in the wrong position. “Listen here, you testosterone fueled, walking delinquent machines,” he said, and I thought that it was such a wonderful alternative to saying Good Morning, “I have had it up to my nose with you trashing this school with your graffiti in the locker rooms and your sex in the janitor’s closets!” he yelled, even though there was a mic sitting right next to him in front of Jerry.

 Jerry was Principal Poultry’s young assistant. From my closer observations of the red haired, freckled face, glasses wearing guy in slacks, he was 25% male, 25% boyish good looks and 50% done.

Done done done done done.

And who wouldn’t be when you had to work within close quarters with a guy whose last name literally was a food group? That alone would make me quit my day job.

“Why aren’t the girls here?” Donny mumbled from the side of me as Poultry went on with his fuming over trivial matters before he got to why we were actually here. “Isn’t it a little sexist to just accuse boys of doing these things?”

It was, I thought. The senior girls were just as deviant as us boys, it was just that they were a lot smarter and far more cunning when they did something mischievous. The boys would hang around the area, get caught and run away laughing afterwards. Not very bright. And so, here we were.

“I will now allow Wren Kensington, your Student Body President, invite our guests.” Principal Poultry said, recapturing my attention.

There was some form of applause when Wren bounced from his seat near the bottom of the bleacher – four rows down from Donny and I – with his hair bouncing as he jogged to the center of the room near Poultry and to the mic. He spun around to face us with a big, bright smile and his perfect bowl cut as per usual and said with as much enthusiasm as I remember him ever having, “Before I welcome our guest, I would like to thank JeremyHeisenberg, the son of Mayor Heisenberg for paying a visit to our school today!”

There was a few stray claps, nothing even remotely loud. Jeremy, that dick from the Mayor’s office the other day, just raised his hand and turned to the crowd to smirk with his dark aviators on and his balck-ish, gray-ish suit fitted to perfection.

“Okay boys, I know you’re all tired and don’t want to be here, but the quicker we get our selves through this, the quicker we can go back to writing obscene things on the cafeteria desks.”

There were a few chuckles and under-the-table snickers when Wren said that; one of which came from clipboard holding Jerry; none from Principal Poultry. “Your boyfriend’s hilarious.” Donny snickered and I threw a dagger at him. “I’d take that look far more seriously if your cheeks weren’t covered in pink blush.” He teased, causing me to wipe at my cheeks furiously, catching the attention of several of the football boys that didn’t sit too far down the row from me.

“Jesus.” I mumbled to myself, sinking into my seat, hopefully enough behind Donny to not be seen, “I’m already friendless, I don’t want to become a social pariah either.”

“I take a sharp offence to that.” Donny said, who, apparently heard my outer monologue.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” I had totally forgotten Wren was speaking, “without any further ado, please welcome the new and first ever female Chief of Police, Molly Adamson!”

There was a rush of air out of Donny’s lungs. “He invited her?” he screeched, but it was nearly inaudible over the large amount of clapping and hooting and general douche-baggery that was rocketing off of the bleachers at the sight of a woman in uniform; the uniform that belonged to one of the most powerful people in town.

I, on the other hand, was flabbergasted at the sight of Molly Adamson walking through the doors that lead into the gym. My heart was pounding now, my hands were slightly shaking, and my feet wouldn’t keep on the ground without tapping.

“Molly is Chief of Police?” Donny blurted again. “I have to start watching the news.”

Chief Adamson – Molly – looked different. Her hair was in a bun, the blue police uniform that she was in whenever I saw her was now a black color and showed off so much of her curves (which explained the hooting and the hollering and the general douche-baggery from earlier).

I felt slightly sick. And no, it want because a woman (gasp!) was the highest officer in our Police Unit, I was because of the woman who occupied the spot.

“Hello, boys.” She spoke, her voice as striking as I have always remembered; powerful and unafraid. If I didn’t detest her so much maybe I’d appreciate it. “My name is Chief Adamson and I am the new Chief of Police for Ginger Valley.”

Again, hoots.

“I am here to teach you about respecting authority, and what could happen to you if you broke the rules.”

I scoffed. She nodded. “This is The Good Doctor.” She said, pointing towards the door. And as if on cue – probably on cue – the green double doors that lead into the gym opened and two officers came in with Professor Harding, The Good Doctor, handcuffed.

The mumbling started. No one had seen Harding since he was taken away and no one knew if he was alive or dead. It seemed to be former, if only barley. He no longer had his insane Einstein hair; it was cut bald. His glasses were much smaller and were now square, as opposed to former round glasses. He still had his white coat. Unfortunately.

“Settle down, boys.” Molly said, and they did. “If you continue to defile school property and disrespect authority, you will, one day, end up like this man, right here.”

“A crazed ex-biology teacher?” Donny whispered. “Terrifying.”

I chuckled. “I’d rather be dipped in hot lava.” I chirped back and he wheezed out a laugh.

I snickered some more, as Molly went on and by mistake, caught the eyes of Daunte, the new athlete kid from before. I immediately stopped snickering when I saw his eyes narrowed and looking directly at me. He must’ve wondered what was so funny.

But before I had a chance to ponder on it more, he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Molly.

“Stay out of trouble and stop writing obscene messages about your Principal's...hair…situation on the walls of the boy’s bathroom.”

“Ah,” I huffed, “the real reason we’re in here.”

“Well, at least he’s not sexist.” Donny mumbled.

I shrugged. “Yeah, he’s just really really petty.”

Donny blurted out a stronger laugh, or at least tried to, but as he did, the entire room shook and rocked. Pieces of dust fell from the ceiling and the lights rocked back and forth at the loud tremble.

“I know you’re loud, but there’s no way that was you.” I mumbled, looking around the room.

“What the hell was that?” Donny mumbled and I looked over at Daunte, whose lips were parted and eyes were just as filled with confusion as the rest of us. “Was that a bomb or something?” Donny questioned, he sounded panicked, every else seemed to follow and the gymnasium filled with all different pitches of terrified voices; all looking around to see where the shock wave came from.

“Uh, stay calm, boys!” Poultry yelled, trying to calm the crowd down, but even over the microphone he had just decided to use, his voice was but a flicker above the blaze that was the senior boys class. He mumbled something to Jerry, who nodded and raced to the door, dropping his clipboard in the process.

Chief Molly was on her radio phone, seemingly trying to call for back-up, but she was just repeatedly yelling “Hello? Can anybody hear me!” and then would wait for an answer, mumbled something below her breath and try again. Then she’d turn to Wren, who stood next to her and asked him something.

“I can’t call out.” Donny said, his phone to his right ear.

“Someone must’ve jammed the signal.” I mumbled, eyeing the crowd, scanning them for something that would even seem out of place. But, all I saw were boys, all scared for their lives.

All except one.

Daunte was MIA. I looked back at the section he was in, and he was gone. Vanished.

“Where did Daunte go?” I asked, much more to myself than anything, but that didn’t stop Donny from scanning.

“I don’t know.” Then he stopped and searched again. “Where’s that Jeremy kid?”

I blinked and refocused back down to the center. He was right. Jeremy, the mayor’s son, the mayor’s blind son, had all but disappeared as well. “Something’s wrong.” I murmured. Keeping my eyes at the front of me, and watching the looks distinctively.

There was something wrong. Very wrong. Dr. Harding didn’t look phased at all. In fact, he was smiling. As if he knew exactly what was going on.

The doors to the auditorium broke open again and Jerry, panting, with this look of extreme horror locked on his face said, “We’re surrounded!”

Principal Poultry’s eyes sank and his lips slightly parted. He grabbed his toupee, trying to fix it properly to no avail and sped walked over to Jerry. “What do you mean we’re surrounded?” he asked rigidly, extremely close to Jerry’s face.

By this time, the entire room was stark silent, all of the boys looked frightened, but curiosity grabbed their tongues and shoved it down their throats before sewing their lips together. “Were surrounded by four super villains!” he yelled. Somehow he had misplaced the cool glasses he had on. Chief Molly had moved closer to Harding and was seemingly whispering something to him with her finger pointed at his face, most likely trying to get information as to why he was so elated and what was happening.

“What do they want?” Poultry asked, he himself looked hardly composed.

Jerry looked flabbergasted, but tried. “I don’t know, sir, I think they want-”

“All of you do die!” 

He swung at Molly, smacking her right below her chin and sending her hurdling to the ground, unconscious. That was when the situation turned from panic to straight up horror. Harding stood up, revealing his hands were all but freed from the cuffs, which he threw at Molly’s unconscious body. “You’ve made a big mistake, bringing me here, Poultry!” Harding cackled.

Principal Poultry looked frightened out of his slacks and tried to run for the door, but Harding pulled something from under his white coat, a gun of some kind, that was at least a foot long and this shiny silver color and shot some blue mist at him.

It hit him. Right on his back and Principal Harding froze in place; with one foot off the ground and the other one barley touching, frozen in a running position with his hands bent at the elbow.

All hell broke loose after that. The boys on the bleacher started running, trying to escape. Harding turned postal and toward us, and started blasting away.

Donny shot up from his seat and grabbed me by the hand and started us for the door. I didn’t protest him. Boys were getting hit by beams, stopping them in their tracks, some falling over frozen and tumbling down the bleachers; no one helped them, no one could help them.

Then I heard something. I heard it as me and Donny neared the back exit that Harding couldn’t see, that most of us were escaping through.

“Stop it!”

I stopped hot in my tracks. Donny’s pull on my wrist was broken because of it, and he slid through the door, nearly getting trampled by the boys who were rushing out like a herd of zebras being chased by lions.

“Keegan!” he shouted, but couldn’t re-enter, the force of the boys moving against his was like the tide of the ocean. “Get your ass this way!”

“I can’t!” I shouted at him and looked back  through the bleachers and saw Wren kneeling down in front of Molly. “Wren’s still in here!” I turned back to meet Donny’s frightened eyes. I could practically feel his erratic heart beating from here; I felt my own, banging against my ribcage.

Donny tried to push through the boys to come back, as the last of those who weren’t frozen made their panicked exit. But, he couldn’t and before he could get back in when the herd thinned, I ran up and slammed the door shut, locking it and spinning around.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Donny shouted, sounding muffled behind the big, double green doors. “Let me in!”

“No way!” I yelled back. “Get your tall ass to safety!” I commanded him, looking at him through the rectangular shaped window that was in the center of the one of the doors. He looked a mixture of angry, confused, and scared. “Go!” I yelled again, and after banging on the glass one more time, he reluctantly span and ran.

“Why are you doing this Harding?” I heard Wren question, angrily and I turned back around and crept to the side of the bleachers to watch the exchange.

Harding had put down his freeze ray and approach Wren, who looked scared shitless, but remained near Molly, who looked better unconscious if you asked me, but that wasn’t the task at hand.

“Because,” Harding said with a strong, crazed laugh, “it’s time for us, villains to take control of this rat hole you people call a town; and if we can’t have it, we’re going to tear it apart.”

Just as he said that, the sound of the choppers and sirens wailed, and seeing as the outside was close to the gym, I could hear them quite clearly. I had thought, where were Molly’s back-up? She was Chief, there was no way she came here with someone like Harding (even though he wasn’t perceived as dangerous) alone

Harding heard them to and growled to himself; he seemed like the same man from before, just a few notches crazier and without a Biology book in his hands. It was scary.

“Leave these kids out of it, Professor.” Wren said as Harding approached him.

I had to do something before he harmed Wren. I tried to turn on this stupid invisibility power, but, I couldn’t concentrate, and doing it took a massive amount of it. I tried, I tired, I tried, but the sight of him approaching Wren was so stressing that nothing happened.

He took another step. Think. Wren gasped. Think.  He picked up his gun.  Shit, think. Stood in front of him. Reloaded. Aimed. Fire-

 “Hey, Harding!” I shouted, just as he was about to fire. I stepped out from behind the bleachers, a few feet away from where he and Wren were, next to a still unconscious Molly.

He stopped and turned to meet the brave soul that was still unfrozen and decided to stay. He smirked. “Keegan, my good boy!” he laughed. “As brain dead as ever, I see.” He looked at Wren, who was huffing and puffing and all sorts of confusion, “And still one big love sick mutt, as per usual.” Wren raised a brow.

“Let him go, Professor.”

“That’s The Good Doctor, to you!” He growled and aimed the weapon at my head. “You kids are so no manners!” he shot it. And by the grace of God, I jumped to the right, sliding over the floor and crashing near the lowest bleacher. My back ached from the sudden move and hard collapse, but I recovered quickly when he fired another shot.

I slid myself right, and the misfire hit the bleacher, freezing it completely and I got to my knees, panting as sweat started to accumulate on my forehead. I wasn’t as in shape as I would have liked to believe.

“Hold still you little brat!” he shouted and fired again. I laid down flat and it shot across my head, tipping my hair and sent a chill racing down my spine, only to claw and scratch its way back up. I could not move after that. I was frozen, if only just barely.

“Leave him alone, you piece of garbage!” I heard echo and after that, Harding screamed.

I tried to recuperate, and barley caught the sight of Wren biting the ankle of Harding. It didn’t last long though. Harding shook him off, and Wren landed on the ground with a grunt. “You little, insignificant germ!” Harding bellowed, stepping closer to Wren as the boy crawled away with his elbows. “You may have these people in this school and at Parliament fooled that you’re some goody, goody little boy, but I know the truth!”

I tried to get up, the shot had me paralyzed. I gnawed at my self-will to get up, but my body wouldn’t respond to the plea. “Wren, run!” I shouted instead.

He looked to panic to hear me. His eyes were locked on Harding’s. “I know about you and the boy in the yellow suit that flies around at night!” Harding yelled.

And if this were a television show, it would be one of those moments when the record halts and does that scratching sound. You know, the one when a character found out something completely unbelievable.

I know about you and the boy in the yellow suit that flies around at night I know about you and the boy in the yellow suit that flies around at night I know about you and the boy in the yellow suit that flies around at night

Wren’s naked hugging Superboy?

My mouth hung wide open, large enough to catch a fish in it. The paralysis had worn off and I stumbled my way back to my feet. Wren was pink in the face and shifted his gaze anywhere, once it didn’t meet mine.

“Sorry, Paul.” Harding spat, “It seems Mr. Kensington is after someone with a little more gusto than you seem to have.”

“As much as I appreciate the compliment,” someone’s voice echoed and the three of us span toward the bleachers behind me. Superboy was sitting at the very top, peeling a banana, “I have never done the nasty with Mr. Kensington.” He noted, taking a bite of the fruit. “Though, I do plead the fifth if it’s other…activities you are suggesting, Good Doctor.”

My right eye twitched. And in the moment of distraction, in which his condescending, yet boyish laugh filled my ears, something swatted me and I found myself flying through the air and onto one of the bleacher, upside down, with my head smacking into one of them below me. I felt like mash potatoes at this point, just all over the place, soggy and anything but appetizing to look at. 

I looked up, and blocking one of the light shining on the ceiling was Superboy, who had found it funny to walk over to me and chuckle down at my painful misfortunes. “You going to let that guy just wail on you like that?”  Superboy asked, cheekily and held out a hand. “Or are you ready to finally join my team?” I reluctantly took his hand and he helped me up. I stared at him for a while. Just stared, and then again some more. “Take a polaroid, Paul.” He smirked, striking me out of my thoughts.

He bent his knees slightly and jumped, flying into the air and rushing towards Harding. I shook what ached off and raced off of the bleachers.

And here was another mistake of mine to add to my long long list. Instead of getting Wren and letting Superboy, who was obviously more than a capable of taking down Harding, I decided to rejoin the fight. Not because I wanted to, oh no.

But because I had this thing called a penis; and with said organ came with this thing called testosterone and one possible side effect of this hormone was the inability to sense when something is too dangerous, or stupid to attempt. It told me - no forced me to get back into it; that I had something to prove. Because if boys were blind to one thing, it was a pretty face.

“Keegan, what are you doing?” Wren shouted as he skated across the floor, heading for the gym’s regular exit. “Let him handle it, you’re no superhero!”

I knew he didn’t mean it the way I interpreted to sound; I knew he meant that I didn’t have superpowers (as far as he knew) and that I could be killed, but once again, my brain just saw it as another dumb challenge. “Go, Wren!” I shouted, nearly commanded depending on who you asked.

He stared for a bit, a bit bewildered, but listened and raced for the exit. Once he was gone, I focused on the two fighting the center. I jumped off of the bleachers, and ran towards them.

Harding tried to swing at Superboy, but he ducked and used an uppercut that sent Harding stumbling backwards; but not far enough. “Nice to see you finally grow some balls, Paul.” Superboy mocked.

“Shut the fuck up.” I barked, and I would have admitted to it sounding irrational, but irrational people say irrational things.

Harding swung. I ducked. Superboy through a punch that jacked his jaw. I swung for his rib and my hand crashed into it. Harding winced and screeched, keeling over.

Superboy patted me on the shoulder. “Damn, Keegan. You’re not so awkward when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!” I shouted, and before Superboy could even rebut, Harding shot up and smacked the two us, sending us hurling toward the bleachers. I landed in front of it with a thud and sharp pains jolted through my body like bee stings. The taste of blood was like salt and steel and I had right there and then made up my mind that I didn’t quite like the taste of it. 

“I think we made him angry.” Superboy mumbled, sounding in a lot of pain, but not as much as I was.

“You think.” I replied, still trying to fight off it off, but finding very little will power to do so. “What do we do?” I asked, as Harding started to creep closer.

“Decoy.” Superboy mumbled. “You distract him and I’ll get him from behind.” He whispered, readjusting his black mask. His eyes were green today.

“No way.” I muttered. Harding was getting close. “Why do I have to be the decoy?”

“I know I’m attractive enough to distract anyone Paul, but you’re less experienced than I am, and the last time I checked you don’t have any Super Strength that was fearful.”

“You don’t know the first thing about my powers, douche bag.”

“A-ha!” he sang and shouted at the same time, “so you admit to having powers!” his hands were pointing at me and he was doing this silly dance with his knees. “I knew it. I knew it. I knew it!” he high fived himself. “God, I’m freaking goo -watch out!”

He pushed me left and he slid right. Harding’s hands, that were now covered with some big ass metal gloves smashed into the ground, destroying the tile that it collided with and sending shards of glass and dust into the air.

“Where is he getting all these things?” Superboy questioned, coughing and swatting dust out of his face.

Harding got back up, growled and swung his fists at Superboy. The boy in yellow jumped into the air, on top of Harding’s shoulders and off again onto my side of him.

“How much Super Strength do you have, kid?” Superboy asked as he backed up slowly as Harding menacingly paced our way.

“I don’t know.” I responded. “And don’t call me kid, we’re probably the same age.”

We hit a wall and Harding cackled a he stood in front of us; he had us cornered and ready to be smushed like bugs.

“If you have any bright ideas, Super-asshole, now would be the right time to spill them.” I barked, seeing as he had the time to think of so many comebacks. You’d think he’d have an exit strategy in case something like this ever occurred.

“Just one.” He mumbled. Harding raised his steel, Gorilla fists, cackled like the crazed psycho he was and hammered down. “I’m dating Wren!”

“What!”

Boom.

Before I even noticed, my hands launched forward and struck Harding in the stomach. He flew backwards. All the way across the gym’s length and crashed into the wall. All I could hear was the sound of his body smacking the tile and him groaning about the pain.

“Damn.” Superboy mumbled, eyeing Harding from the other side. He stepped an inch away from me. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

I ignored him. “Are you dating Wren?” my ribcage was cracking from the blows my heart was giving it.

He held up his hands. “Dude, no.” he chuckled. “I have, however kissed him and before you decide to punch me, just know that I had to get back into the Mayor’s office, and I had to distract him somehow. So, I kissed him and left him a bit dazed and confused.” He snickered. “Nothing else, I swear it. I’m not really into guys so much; not enough boob action, too much penis stuff.”

“Can you leave, please?”

He looked at his watch. “Sure.” He smirked and broke one of the windows that lined the wall. “Stay-”

“-in school kid.” I interjected, as mockingly as humanly possible. “I know!”

Then he gave me one more wink, told me he knew how to found me (creepy) and flew out of the window he broke.

Not five munutes after he left, the doors to the gym unhinged and a swat team came in. All I could think was, of course you come in after the fight. I sighed as one of them rushed over to me, and the others did so over to Molly. A few however, go to the aid of the frozen students and teachers.

Those students were taken outside onto the field in the back of the school, into the sun, where they could supposedly thaw. I thought it was a stupid solution, but it seemed to have been working.

Students were running around, hugging each other when they could and gossiping about what had just occurred, some with googly eyes as firsthand accounts were being shared.

It amazed me. Here I was, sitting on the back of an ambulance being checked for a concussion, and two girls and one guy, all the same height and all blonde were chatting away right in front of me.

“So, what happened on the outside?” The blonde boy asked.

The two blonde girls; one with short hair and one with her hair in a ponytail snickered. “Well, the school was surrounded by, like, these four supervillains who had escaped the Mighty Magik’s Impenetrable Super Villain’s Penitentiary.” Short Blonde Hair said, a bit too eager for me.

“How?” Blonde Boy asked.

Ponytail Blonde Girl smirked, “That’s the good part.” She said. “No one knows. All they know is that it was an inside job and that someone had to give Harding the key to his chains and gave him his freeze ray before he got into the gym.”

“Where are the others?” Blonde Boy questioned. “And what was the plan?”

“They escaped.” The Two Blondes squealed. “And nobody knows what the plan was.”

I had heard enough. I wiped a bit of blood that was left on my lip of from some of the falls I took and jumped off of the back of the ambulance when the paramedic went to treat some other kid.

“Excuse me.” I mumbled as I pushed pass some of the idiots but got tired of being polite half way through and settled for “Fucking move it.”

“You fucking watch it.” Someone responded and I turned back immediately to riddle them with words, but the face staring back at me belonged to Daunte.

We stared at each other for a while. His eyes were this deep brown color and his face was void of any distinguishable emotion, apart than annoyance. He was slightly taller than I was, which gave him the advantage of height and thus, the ability to look really fucking scary. He stared a second longer, then he continued walking.

I swallowed and spun around to continue my search for a familiar face. Donny’s or Wren’s. But the only other face that I could recognize belonged to Jeremy. He stood in the center of the field with about ten or eleven men in black surrounding him, all in cool guy shades and a gun at their sides.

He was facing me, and for about six seconds I could’ve sworn his eyes were following me. There was this smirk on his face, before he turned his head in another direction. It only added fuel to my suspicions that Jeremy wasn’t as blind as he played to be.

“Keegan!” I heard. And it wasn’t the voice I was expecting to hear. I looked in the direction of the voice and saw among the crowd, my dad – not Mr. Terrific – in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of Dad jeans racing towards me through the haystack of other kids and parents on the lawn. It was surprising. He stopped in front grabbed me. “Are you hurt?” he looked me over, scanning every part of my body, spinning me around and back again. “Did that son of a bitch touch anything on you? Because I’d break him in half, sew him back together and break him in half again.”

I think he was meaning literally, considering who he was. “I’m fine, dad.” I mumbled, but my body was probably covered in bruises under my clothing.

“You fought off Harding?” he asked. He sounded proud so I nodded. He wasn’t proud. “Are you crazy!” he barked, and his hold on me tightened; I winced under his pressure. “You aren’t trained to take down supervillains, Keegan Paul, not to mention you weren’t wearing a mask! I’m going to have to get Harding put in solitary confinement for the rest of his life so he wouldn’t tell others who you were.” He exhaled sharply. “They would kill you.”

“One,” I said, spanking his hand off of my shoulder and watching his green eyes go from crazed anger to softening surprise. “Harding can hardly be classified as a decent biology professor, let alone supervillain. Two, I handled my ass pretty well in there just now, Dad; a ‘you did great, son and I’m proud of you’ would be great and three don’t you dare play the concerned father after the shit you have pulled.”

 He growled. “When are you going to get over this, Keegan?” he asked; begged. “I’ve been trying to make this up to you in every way I know how and you still despise me.” He huffed. “Why is that?”

I blinked upward at him, opened my mouth, looked into his eyes; at his skin;  his brown hair blowing in the wind; closed it. Then, I pushed passed him, but he didn’t stop me. But, before I got out of ear shot, I stopped and turned. He was watching me. “By the way, Molly is in one of the ambulances being treated for a concussion.”

Dad’s eyes slightly widened. “Molly?”

“Yes, Police Chief Molly. That Molly; your Molly. The woman who you cheated on my mother with and got a divorce for.”

Back to writing this. I hope you guys will vote for it! It’s appreciated. I’m going to immediately start writing a new chapter as soon as I update one of my other stories :). So, tell me what you think of the madness that is starting to unfold?