League of Do Gooders, Ne'er do wells, and those of Evil Intent

Vigilantes 201

                Let me tell you something about superheroes. Something they don't tell you on tv, or in those bizarre little propaganda pieces they call "comic books". They're cops. They are literally just brightly colored, distinctly costumed cops with stage names. They report to the government, follow strict licensing regulations, have to wear this stupid bright blue safety vest for their first couple months, and take supervillains- murderers, basically, to prison over and over again. They are idiots.

I never looked up to these idiots for a second of my life, but I did try to die for one once, a long time ago. There was a really good idiot cop named Galactic Mask. He kept the peace, made sure kids were wiping their noses or whatever, and did all that stuff for like 100 years. He was an alien so we kind of just assumed that he'd live forever, but apparently alien organs start to suck eventually too. I was supposed to be a transplant, until two kids who weren't working with a superhero organization at all decided to save my life. We call people like that "vigilantes". They're the true heroes. No paycheck, way more murder. I watched as the two vigilantes that saved me grew into normal helpful members of society over the last ten years, and in order to make sure they kept the idyllic life they deserved, I became a vigilante. The costuming was less good. I managed to procure a surgical mask and a haphazardly spray painted hoodie. The freedom, though, was way better.

Here's a weird aspect of being a vigilante, though. You kind of fight with the heroes, kind of fight against them, depending on the day. Most superheroes are happy for the help when the chips are down, but the new heroes are always very by the book, and might actually stop in the middle of a crisis to fight me before actually confronting the terrorists about to blow up the place. Seriously. Just plug them once and they won't be terrorists anymore. Nobody else seemed to understand the reality that we could just end "recurring villains" at any point.

My very enlightened brooding came to a tragic end when I heard a familiar swoosh settle in right next to me. I'd been staking out a group of prohibition era gangsters that somehow survived to the modern era. They were planning a bank robbery; after which they would presumably write their names in a wall using tommy guns or something. Like the last hundred years never happened. My plan was to hit them individually really hard with a lead pipe. My new guest typically had other ideas.

He was some sort of amorphous blob in a ghillie suit. He went by the name "the New Colossus", which was just a little too on the nose patriotic for my tastes, and he got in the way every time I was about to gently bludgeon a man's face in. Absolute pain in the butt. He totally stole my work too. He would slide in whenever I was about to perform a perfectly good blunt force trauma, defeat me in a fight, then carry on to steal my credit.

My time as a villain taught me very little, but it did give me a flair for the dramatic. It was speech time, and I was very ready.

"You fool!"

Strong start, October.

"You may have bested me in the past, but that time is over!"

And here's the part where I bring it home with my thesis statement.

"BECAUSE I HAVE A LEAD PIPE!"

Absolutely crushed it. What follows is normally the portion of the fight where the new device that will turn the tables is demonstrated. Any given practitioner of dramatic speeches can basically rest easy in the initial portion of the fight. After all, no self-respecting hero would let so much effort pass them by. While a lead pipe seems like a normal weapon, it actually required a fair bit of antiquing. Most pipes have long since been replaced by safer steel, copper, or plastic, and I had to take a long bus ride out to south Texas to find a suitable-

My lead pipe was knocked out of my hands, and something very hard clobbered me in the ribs. Whatever the New Colossus was, he was armed under there. At least chivalry wasn't dead. I took a second to sputter and wheeze like any reasonable person would, then assumed my backup speech, prepared just for this occasion.

"You FOOL!"

Even better the second time.

"You think you defeated me because you disarmed me of my lead pipe? PATHETIC!"

Absolutely devastating. Now for the twist.

"BECAUSE I PURCHASED A SECOND PIPE AT AN ANTIQUE STORE IN BROWNSVILLE FOR AN INFLATED PRICE!"

I pulled out my second lead pipe and wielded it like a rapier. Now it was serious, and the New Colossus seemed to understand that too. He backed off, as I proudly swing my pipe around.

Then he started heading towards me. Pathetic. Absolutely worthless. He could do nothing before my pipe mastery.

He picked up speed. I decided to hold the pipe with two hands. Amorphous blob or no, this patriotic hero wannabe was nothing before the classic kneecap clobber.

He took to the sky. I... did not expect a jump. I reacted, like any sane person would, by wildly flailing the pipe above me like a glow stick at a concert. It was stolen from me. The New Colossus did a flip, landed, and tossed my second pipe off the building. I had been disarmed twice. Luckily, I came prepared for this contingency.

"You FOOL!"

DONK

My killer opening line was met with incredible pain to the head, and then the typical feeling of passing out that usually punctuated the ending of these fights.

I woke up, as I always did, with my head properly bandaged by my opponent, and a courtesy container of Tylenol set beside me for good measure. I took out a little journal, and scratched out lead pipe on a list of possible options of ways to beat the New Colossus and become the vigilante protector of the city. My boots were killing me. I took one off and shook out the additional four lead pipes I had stored as a contingency plan in case the first several were stolen.

I looked out past my rooftop perch to see the entire gang being pushed into the backs of police cars. Not a single casualty. Like usual. Like usual, I stepped down from my rooftop perch and limped my way back to my hidey hole to make sure the two people I actually liked were doing okay. Like always, the shop was closing down. Yinyue would be back from karate practice in an hour or so.

Unlike before, Flare wasn't the one doing the closing. It was a girl with bright pink hair and bright green eyes. She stumbled out the door and ran away, while Flare, seemingly wounded, crawled after her.

I should have kept the pipes.