Mr. Terrific (Superhero BoyxBoy)

Issue #1: "Now You See Me, Now You Don't"

“Come out with your hands up, Mr. Harding.” Police Chief McCarty’s voice echoed through a loud speaker and it sounded more annoyed than anything. It was almost like this was a movie and the scene had been done for the 6000th time today. “Or we’ll have to remove you with force.” He continued with the some uninterested, can’t be bothered tone.

The red and blue lights from the police vehicles that lined the front lawn of the building were bouncing off of the white, marker-ridden board that Mr. Harding had written our next homework assignment on.

Atoms – Complete Exercises 1 – 4 by September 25th, 2013 it read in a dark black color that was strangely mixing with hues of blues and reds that flashed in some form of random order from the outside. I hated the topic of atoms, and if we weren’t in mortal danger, I’d be jumping for joy that Mr. Harding picked today of all days to diverge into villain-hood.

“Last Warning.” Police Chief warned. I wondered where he stood, because I couldn't see him out of the windows. Just bystanders and other students who had been evacuated out of the building. “If you don’t come out and let those kids go, we will use force.” His voice went down a decibel with each word he spoke as the grittiness and venom rose in potency. He sounded more abrasive this time; perhaps to scare Harding into better judgment.

 And if his goal was to frighten The Good Doctor (Harding’s villain-alter ego), it was working. Mr. Harding was starting to sweat profusely as he gazed outside the window in sheer bewilderment at the gravitational pull his hold-up was starting to generate. He wasn’t ready. Not for…this.

 “GVNBC News is here.” He had noted to himself, staring mindlessly out the window before swallowing balls of fear and went back to pacing around the room in huge strides. “My mother works there.” He bit his nails as he panted and huffed around the room. “She’s isn't going to like this. Not one bit.”

It had become potently clear that Harding obviously didn’t know what it took to be a super villain. He was missing several very important things. One – he didn’t have anything to hide his true identity. He might as well have been stark naked if he was going to wear that coat. Two –  he didn’t even have a list of  demands neatly typed and ready for when a phone was sent into be read in a menacing fashion.

“D-demands?” he had stuttered, as if it was some unspeakably dirty profanity. I tried to visualize the confused look on McCarty’s face from outside; perhaps it was similar to the wack-job in the room “I have no demands. I’m honestly going to just blow these kids to hell!” Then he, frustratingly so, hung up and rested the phone on the desk and got back to his pacing and incoherent murmuring.

 “Uh, Dr. Harding?” Dylan Summers, the quarterback of the football team, raised his hand to catch the teacher’s attention.

Harding’s pacing stopped once Dylan had broken the rule and leered with manic eyes at him. “Yes, Dylan.” He sighed, annoyed, “I’m in the middle of something right now.” He always had the softest spot for the football star, seeing as he couldn't tell you the difference between Nitrogen and the back side of a football.  “Do you need something?”

“Yeah,” the 6’1 blonde, blue eyed boy answered back, hand scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I was wondering that…in the event that you get caught and go to jail or… whatever, do we still give in our homework…or?” Summers queried, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. “I could use the extra grade.” Dr. Harding blinked a few times at the (reasonable) question before he scowled at him and went on with his pacing. “Sorry I asked...” Dylan mumbled, rolling his eyes and sliding down the wall to sit with the rest of his jock friends who shared the class with him.