"All men have limits. They learn what they are and learn not to exceed them. I ignore mine." - Batman
Issue #5 “Theres Always A But”
It is well known among the teenage population, that the most important day of the week is Saturday. This is teen law.
On this day, you sleep until whatever time you wanted to; you could stay on your computer until the clock’s batteries had to be replaced; you could stay in your bed the entire day without any real consequences.
Saturdays were to teenagers what Sundays were to Christians. Sacred, holy.
And like the thief in the night that Bible spoke of as it related to the dramatic end of the world, my Saturdays were snatched from my hands.
“Your father is going to be here any minute, Keegan,” Mom said, looking over at me from her place by the stove. “Eat faster.”
I, who sat at the four legged, wooden table, just adjacent to said stove, looked at her with an expression so sardonic, I was afraid it would never move. “If I eat any faster, I’d have to skip the chewing and just swallow.”
“Try that then,” she mocked, turning off the stove and grabbing the tea she just made. “You know how I feel about Keegan Sr. being in my house for more than four minutes a day,” she said. “And if you’re not done eating, he’s going to want to come in here and sit on my couch.”
I rolled my eyes at her. My mother was a woman who prided herself on the fact that she bought the things she had. Sometimes I think she did so just so she could stress the ‘my’ in her sentences.
My couch. My house. My son.
I wondered if she made me just so she could brag about it. She was a ferociously independent woman, and as of the divorce, that took on a whole new meaning.
“Why do I even have to go to these stupid lunches anyway?” I asked, stuffing a strip of bacon in my mouth.
“Chew and then talk, Keegan.” She barked, stuffing her own piece between her lips and answering, “You know the rules.” She sounded different with the crushed bacon in her mouth. “You live with me, your father sees you on weekends.”
“But,” I moaned, dropping the fork, “Saturdays are a teenager’s Holy Day. It is a day of rest.” I cried, dropping my head on the side of my plate. “Only you can help me restore the balance.”
Mom duly ignored my cries of help, “I am sorry Keegan Jr, but I cannot assist you in your noble conquest to restore Saturdays to its former glory,” she said and I felt her move my plate from the side of my head. “The court has ordered that a father see his son on the weekend and I cannot stand between that, or I lose you to him.” She paused. “And would you rather live with him and Molly?”
“Was that a rhetorical question?”
“It was,” she replied, laughing a bit. “Oh,” she said afterwards, and I raised my head. Her eyes were on the small TV she had set on the counter. She would use it to watch the news in the morning while cooking.
The screen read ‘NEW DETAILS ON THE ATTACK AT HIGH SCHOOL’ but it was muted.
“Hey mom, can you turn that up?” I asked and after a few seconds thinking it over, she nodded.
A lady and man were both sitting behind a desk. Her hands were on it while his hands holding a few sheets on white paper. I couldn’t help but notice his extremely creepy mustache and her overly sized boobs, obviously the work of surgery. They were speaking:
Creepy Mustache: “We have new details on the horrific attack on the local high school that left three superheroes injured and one dead.”
Enhanced Boobs: “That’s right. The Office of The Mayor can confirm that four villains escaped from the Asylum they were in. They are as follows: Feminista, The Hag, Matter and KNine.”
Creepy Mustache: “They are all considered very dangerous and Police Chief Molly and her team would ask no one to approach these women and men if you see them, but would like it if you would call them on the supervillain hotline 666-EVIL if you see one of them.”
Enhanced Boobs: “No one knows exactly how they broke out, but sources say that the new, and mysterious Major Minus, who anyone has yet to see, was behind it, allegedly.”
Creepy Mustache: “It leads you to believe if this fabled character truly exists or if it is the work of someone else, Lana. We all know that our city is in international news following the attack at the high school. Videos of the ambush have been circulating on social media, one already with over three million views.”
Enhanced Boobs: “And according to our economists, it is going to triple our economic activity for the year.”
Creepy Mustache: “More on this at eleven. But now, let’s talk cats: adorable, or secret agents of evil?”
Mom turned off the TV after that and turned to me. “Triple our economic activity?” she commented, “Leads me to believe that someone in some high place is doing this.”
I shrugged. “It’s a possibility, I guess.”
I remembered the conversation the Mayor had with those members of the city council that day, and how they wanted him to ‘control’ the violence happening in town. I wondered if he was bold enough to be the one to release the villains, but it wouldn’t make sense for him to. Why would he want them to destroy the city?
“Eat!” Mom yelled and I pitched at the sound of her voice. She found that quite amusing and snickered as she brought her cup of java to her lips. “Eat while your food is hot and stop staring into oblivion, Keegan Jr.”
The phone rang and she got up to get it. I took the moment to grab my own phone off of the table next to me, only to find that I had been texted. By Wren.
Received from Wren at 8:15 a.m.
Hey, Tiger, you ever plan on coming back to work? It’s boring here without you. *sad face*
I blinked down at the message. I hadn’t talked to Wren ever since it was brought to light that he and Superboy were acquainted in a not-so-just-acquaintance-way. Wren still had no clue I didn’t actually work at Town Hall and I’m pretty sure the people there were not so oblivious, seeing as all I ever did was stand around and smile at them awkwardly.
Sent by Me at 8:27 a.m.
No, sorry. I got don’t work Saturdays. It’s a shifts thing. But, I am however going to spending the entire day with my father, so it’s certainly like work, just worse.
I went to place the phone down, but it vibrated in my hand not seconds after I sent that message.
Received from Wren 8:28 a.m.
Took you long enough to answer! And your dad isn’t as bad as mine; we have MATCHING outfits that literally are identical to one another…he forces me to wear it whenever we go out together, like, in public among other human beings.
I grimaced. If my dad ever made me do that, I might slit my throat.
Sent by Me at 8:28 a.m.
That sounds like the kind of thing they’d torture you with if you were an alleged terrorist. Scary shit.
He didn’t text back immediately, which I figured would happen the first time. Wren was always super busy whenever I did decide to stalk him at work. It was amazing how alive and upbeat he still was. You’d think that the Mayor’s young assistant would be exhausted and dreary and hated his job, but Wren didn’t.
Received from Wren 8:31 a.m.
Sorry for taking a few to respond but, Mayor Heisenberg is really breathing up my neck about those escaped villains. He’s having me set up press conference after press conference to save himself. It would be impressive, if I wasn’t the one actually doing all the heavy lifting. While we’re on the topic of supers, I kind of just wanted to say that me and Superboy don’t have anything going on at all. Just so you know. I’m completely available. For coffee. Or McDonalds. Or a movie. Just throwing that out there into the atmosphere.
“Is he flirting with me?” I mistakenly said aloud and mom, still on the phone with whoever, turned to stare at me with her eyebrows raised.
I waved her off and straightened in my seat. I held my phone in between my two hands. I read it again. Wren was always precise; he always said what he wanted to say. Maybe it wasn’t innuendo; maybe I was over thinking. It vibrated again, and I nearly chucked it front he sudden pulse.
Received from Wren 8:34 a.m.
Was that too forward? I mean, sorry if it was. I’ll let you get back to preparing for your Day with Daddy. Later gator.
“I’m the biggest idiot on the planet,” I mumbled and dropped it on the table, into my plate, where it hit the bit of bacon I had left on it. “Great.”
“What’s the matter?” Mom asked, brushing her brown hair out of her face and sitting back down in front of me.
“I’m dumb is all,” I sighed. “Who was that? On the phone.” I asked, aptly dismissing it, because I wasn’t in the mood for a mother-son heart to heart so early in the morning.
“Your father.”
“Yeah?” I asked, raising a brow.
“It seems that he’s tied up with work things and won’t be able to see you today, but he is attending some conference at in the town hall ball room that he would like it if you attended with him.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I said, pushing myself away from the table
“And Kegan?”
“Mhm?”
“Your father told me about your little fight with The Good Doctor. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want you fighting any super villains without proper training?”
“I did pretty well, mom.” I groaned. “I super punched him. As in, I have an entirely new power now. Who knows, maybe I’m the one.” I said, a bit mockingly.
She rolled her eyes. “You have to have all seven to be the one, Keegan and the last time I checked, super strength ran in this family, so until you start displaying the other Wonders, I would like it when someone tells you to run, you do so.” She paused to sip her java. “I lost a husband and you’re the only thing I have left,” she said, rather nonchalantly. “So try not to die, will you?”
“No promises,” I quipped, before disappearing back up the stairs.
I entered my room. And about six seconds before I could dive in my bed, and thus, back into the dream world someone said, “Quick question, are you one of those kids hipster kids you enjoy reading and drinking coffee and tumblr and shit, because if you are, I am seriously doubting making you my partner.”
I tripped over the shirt I left on the ground. A pain shot through my back. I still wasn’t completely healed from the big fight. I looked up, my eyes slightly watering from the sudden jolt and saw gold and blonde and a smirk.
“How?” I exhaled, almost breathlessly. “How did you get into my room?!” I closed the door and watched him move from sitting on the window sill to sitting on one of my dressers that sat next to my bed. He was staring at the globe I had on it, possibly reading countries. “How do you even know where I live?”
“You’d be surprised how much I know, Keegy, boo, honey, darling," he said. “But, alas, we have no time to sit and discuss my numerous breaches of privacy laws as it pertains to you; evil’s afoot.”
“Leave,” I commanded, practically ignoring his confession of stalking me. “Leave my room before I super punch you out.”
“Oooooo,” He sung with some fake kind of fear, shaking his hands in front of his face like he was doing the spirit fingers. “Keegan’s so tough now that he knows he has Super Strength.” He snorted to dismiss me. “You can’t control that power yet.”
“I will be soon.”
“How?” he asked. His face was bunched up. Like the way you’d look at a kitten trying to climb on something and failing. “Your father won’t teach you to; he’s too afraid of you getting hurt. I’m literally the only person who can, and yet, you deny me taking you under my more than capable wings.”
“I’m not going to be your sidekick, dude.”
He shrugged. “I don’t want you to be my sidekick. At least not anymore, not after seeing what you’re capable of. What I want is a partnership. We would be equals, sort of.”
I folded my hands over my chest and he rolled his eyes.
“However, before I make you anything, you need field experience before I trust your intuition. Being a superhero isn’t all about smashing things.”
“What do you mean, field practice?”
He smiled and took a book from my shelf and opened it. “What I mean is,” he said, flipping back to the front cover, “is that you need a bit more practice dealing with villains before I let you onboard fully.”
“Like you have,” I snorted.
“On the contrary,” he said, reading a line and then dry-heaving. “I’ve tangled with a few villains. Give or take a psychotic biology teacher.”
“So, what? I’m supposed to believe you have some fight simulator like they do in X-men?”
“No,” he dropped the book back onto the shelf, knocking over three like a set of dominos. “But I do have a superhero lair. With superhero comrades who should be able to help you out.”
I raised a brow. “So, you have roommates?”
He lost his smirk for a moment. “They aren’t roommates, Keegan. They are highly trained superheroes.” He jumped off of the dresser. “And they would like for you to join them."
“But…” I said.
He raised an eyebrow again. He did that a lot. “But…what?”
“There’s always a but,” I exhaled. “Just tell me so I can get back to sleep, will you?”
He paused. His lips pursed up and he brought his hands to his hips. “Well, as a superhero….even in training, the key to getting anywhere in this business is knowing that you can get hurt at any time. ”
“I’m aware of that,” I threw. “My body still feels like a bowl of jello from the attack at school.”
He swatted his hands at me. “That’s baby stuff, Keegy. You were facing an amateur villain and it was 2-on-1.”
I shrugged. “So?”
“Sooo” he stressed, “you have got to know that facing Feminista, The Hag, Matter or KNine alone is going to end your life. I lost a friend during that fight. A guy that taught me a thing or two when I got here. You have to know that doing this has consequences.”
He didn’t know that. He couldn’t have known that. But I didn’t say that. Why give him the satisfaction of proving me wrong? Even I didn’t 100% believe was he was saying was incorrect.
“Fine. Look, I really want to sleep,” I groaned, scratching the back of my neck with a stray hand. “Can I say yes and just go back to sleep?”
“No.” He came closer. I could hear his supersuit squeaking. “If you say yes, we have to start the process of making you a superhero immediately.” His chest hit mine. He was taller. Who had I known that was taller that I was? Maybe I could figure who this guy was. “So what is your answer? Do you want to be a part of my team? The B-team? Or are you willing to just sit here and be treated like a child, while your superpowers go to waste?”
This is was a bad idea. Mom would be pissed. I’d be grounded until I was thirty-six, at least.
But.
Dad would be pissed as well. Can you imagine if we caught those supervillains and found out who this Major Minus was before he and his ‘A-team’ of mega superheroes did? He’d explode from embarrassment. I wonder what his insides were made of? Probably whatever they made horribleness with.
“Yes.”
Superboy laughed. Then he clapped his hands together and clamped down of them down on my shoulder. “First things first, KeegY,” he said, laughing. “We have to give you the superhero makeover.”
What have I done? “What does that entail, exactly?”
He squealed. “Shopping!”
DONT WORRY. . NO LONG WAITS. NOT ANYMORE. The next issue is half way completed already. Also, pay very close attention to Superboy. I dropped a few hints to his identity.