Emar Orange - Super Villain.

Chapter 1

No one knew what Emar's face looked like, but when people in Viceport saw the orange ski mask coming down the street, they knew it was time to find something else to do. The mere sight of it could cause grown men to shriek like women. 

Joe was about to ride into town with his wife Catherine. That's why he didn't see Emar walking down the street towards the car.

Glass smashed, peppering the interior of luxury sedan. Bits of glass splashed into Catherine's paper coffee cup. Joe tried to put the car into gear and drive off, but Emar grabbed him by the collar of his over-starched shirt and dragged him out the driver's side window.

As Emar was kicking Joe into a state of unconsciousness in the middle of the street, Catherine was trying to unbuckle her safety belt but her hands were shaking too hard. She wasn't fast enough. Emar had climbed into the car and was already speeding off.

"What's your name?" Emar asked.

"Catherine. I'm Joe's wife... What did my husband do?"

"Husband?" Emar thought for a moment, "Oh! You're talking about that guy I just beat up? I don't know. I just needed a car. This one was running."

"Where are you taking me?" Catherine asked.

"Taking you? I'm not taking you anywhere. Why do you have somewhere to be?"

Catherine didn't say anything. She was just crying. Was Joe dead? Was she next?

"Cathy, Cathy, Cathy... Do you want to live, Cathy? Do you want to live to tell the tale of the day you carpooled with Emar Orange?"

"Yes." Catherine managed to get out.

"Okay, then," said Emar, "Then we are going to need a couple of rules. One, don't piss me off. When I tell you to do something, do it. If you waste my time, I'm going to beat you up, kill you or worse. Got it?"

"Yes." said Catherine.

"Two," said Emar, "If bullets start flying, duck. If the cops are shooting at me, don't jump up and wave your arms around. The cops will happily shoot through you to get to me. I've seen it too many times and I hate when people do it. Got it?"

"Yes," said Catherine a bit more coherently now. "Don't jump around. I got it."

"Three, never lie to me," said Emar. "If you lie to me, see rule number one."

"Yes." Catherine said.

"Good," said Emar. "Now, when you got in the car today, where were you going?"

"I was going to the hospital, I have an appointment."

"What for?" Emar asked.

"I have MS... Multiple sclerosis." Catherine said. "It was a check up, I need my prescription renewed."

Emar pulled a sharp u-turn on the stretch of the four lane highway that cut through the center of the Viceport Financial District. Cars attempting to avoid him went barreling onto the sidewalk crushing pedestrians and food carts. Emar looked down at the radio clock.

"What time is your appointment?" Emar asked.

"Three o'clock," said Catherine.

"Three o'clock! You gotta be kidding me, Catherine. That's in like fifteen minutes." Emar scolded her. "There was no way you were going to make your appointment on time. Not the way Joe drives."

"I thought you didn't know, Joe."

Emar punched Catherine in the eye.

"Cathy," he said, "in case you didn't pick up on it yet, you talk when I ask you a question."

"No," he continued, "I don't know Joe. But I know how he drives."

Emar hit the gas and passed the three cars that were bumper to bumper in front of him and burned through a red light.

"He drives like the rest of the assholes in this city," said Emar gripping the steering wheel tighter, "I swear it takes you idiots an hour just to get across town in light traffic."

Catherine sat there tearful without response.

"I'll tell you what, Cathy. If I make it to the hospital before three, you give me all the money in your wallet. If I don't get there by three, I stop wherever we are, drag you out of the car, beat you, and take your wallet. Sound fair?"

"I guess so." Catherine didn't know what else to say. She had certainly heard of Emar Orange. She had see the bloody aftermath of Emar's crimes on the news. She didn't want to end up another digit in his body count. Poor Joe was probably already dead. She started to weep.

"Well," said Emar with a smile, "don't try to look so happy about it. If you don't like it, you know where the door is." Emar reached over and popped the handle on the passenger side door. The door flapped wildly in the jetstream surrounding the car. If it wasn't for Catherine's seat belt being secured, she certainly would have been road pizza.

Catherine too scared to cry anymore, let out a scream, and pulled the door shut. Her breath gasped as she clung to the cloth interior of car, nails deep. Finally she got enough oxygen back in her lungs to get out a few words.

"You're insane!" She cried, nearly fainting.

"Whatever would make you say that, Cathy?" Emar chuckled, not expecting a reply. He reached over to the radio and switch the music to Classical.

Emar sped north towards the hospital. At every intersection the cars swerved and collided with each other to avoid the racing vehicle. Taking a corner, he traded paint with an Ice Cream truck. When they were almost at the hospital, Emar turned down a tight alley between the buildings. The road was rough and he was still going about fifty. If any pallets or trash came in his way, he simply smashed through it.

"You might want to get your money out, Cathy. We're almost there. Now, the reason I'm doing this for you is because I want you to understand something. It's important not to keep important people waiting, not your doctors, not me. Whether you know it or not, we're taking important time out of our day to help you. You should be thankful and not waste it."

Emar pulled up in front of the hospital with a drifting two-wheeled stop. They both looked down at the clock.

"Two-fifty-nine!" Emar shouted. He grabbed the stack of bills from Catherine's shaking hand. "Careful, you're going to spill it everywhere." He wadded up the cash and put it in his breast pocket. He reached down and unbuckled her belt before reaching over to pop open the passenger door. Police sirens could be heard coming down the street.

"Go on! Get out now, if you make me drag you, I'm going to have to beat you up too. Those are the rules."

Catherine got out of the car as fast as her wobbly legs would let her. By the time she cleared the door and turned around, the police car had already arrived. Two police officers got out. One had a pump action shotgun and the other had a pistol. 

By the expression on Catherine's face, Emar knew which cop had the heavier weapon. He reached into his jacket and pulled the chrome plated .45 Magnum from his shoulder holster.

"Don't forget to duck, Cathy," he said before swiftly turning and shooting the cop holding the shotgun in the head. Bits of brain, skull, and eyeball came flying out of the cops face before he slumped to ground. The remaining cop was stalled with fear.

Emar turned and shot the pistol wielding cop in the shoulder, but not before the cop squeezed off two rounds. The bullets zipped through the car, smashing the remaining side windows, and digging into the sodded lawn of the hospital behind Catherine. Emar dropped his foot on the gas pedal.

The injured cop continued to fire at Emar as the stolen sped away down the street.