Complex

Ch. 37 - Late Night with Jake Riley

S u p e r boy….  That sounded so lame.  What was I, Superman's little brother?  Superman Jr.? (A possibility I filed under 'Maybe').  And how vague can you get?  Granted I didn't have a signature power—just the basic speed, strength, hearing… all just regular abilities anyone had… only better.  I would rather just be called the Denim-Blue Blur… just Denim-Blue—oh, wait, I wasn't even wearing blue anymore.  Just 'The Blur' would've been acceptable.

            Wasn't anonymity the goal?  Maybe I just got swept up in Emma's admiration.  She seemed to… light up when she talked about me—Superboy, that is.  I was glad I knew few people since Emma saw the resemblance so clear.  Whoever had drawn the sketch was good if they were only going off of descriptions and bad camera footage.

            I walked on aimlessly, thinking to myself.  The sidewalk began to thin out as everyone reached their destinations.  It was, what, Monday evening?

            There was a woman's scream up ahead.  I didn't hesitate.

            They fought in the dingy alley, only one way out.  He was trying to yank the purse away from her, a middle-aged woman, just got off of work in her office attire.  He just looked grungy.

            "Hey!  That purse really doesn't go with your jacket, man.  They clash horribly."

            Both of them looked up.  "Get lost, kid, or you're next."

            I walked forward.  "I'm more of a wallet man myself.  Just let the nice lady leave."

            "No thanks."  He quickly reached into his back packet and took out a blade.  By the time it'd flicked out, I'd already rushed forward and shoved.  He was surprised enough to let go and fall into a pile of trash bags.

            I turned to the woman.  "You better r—oh."  She was already turning onto the sidewalk and out of sight, her heels clicking away at the pavement.  I turned back as the guy punched the right side of my face.  I stumbled back, rubbing my jaw.

            "Wow, you're dumb.  You could've just stabbed me when I wasn't looking—oh, wait, that's not a knife.  That's a nail file."

            He rushed forward—insulted, I presumed—and I simply went all matador and let him ram himself face-first into a dumpster.  He wasn't knocked out, though.  The mugger staggered to his feet, rubbing his forehead painfully, his nose bleeding.  "You son of a b—"

            I kicked his face—gently—and he fell back, just stirring, still awake.  "I don't tolerate that kind of language.  If we were all dogs, what do you think your mom would be called?" 

            The guy didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight.  He was barely conscious as I found a small piece of metal piping, sat him up, and made him my signature street-made handcuffs.  Robert would probably get a kick out of it; I hadn't made one of my Infinity Cuffs in a while. 

            I kneeled down in front of him.  "So, do you want me to take you to the station, or would you rather wait here by the dumpster for the garbage men to pick up the rest of trash—"

            "Jake."

            "What?" I called out, annoyed as I got up and turned.  But then my blood ran cold.

            It was the man in the suit again.  "Doing a little cleaning, I see."  He sounded… well, elegant… classy—I don't know.  His calm demeanor frankly freaked me the fudge out.

            I did my best to seem cool.  "This one's mine.  Go find your own."

            "How's the head?"

            I smirked.  "Why doesn't Katherine come and do her own dirty work?  Why does she send in the hounds?  Lazy," I tsked. 

            I had anticipated it.  He pulled out the gun, and by then, I'd already pulled the mugger behind the dumpster with me and crouched down.  If that thing had pierced my skull, a dumpster wouldn't be a problem.

            "Stay down if you value your miserable life," I quietly told the mugger.  He nodded, looking bug-eyed, eyes watering.  I rolled my eyes.  What a baby….

            "Learned from your mistakes."  The man took a few steps forward into the alley.  He had us trapped.  "I have no quarrel with that man, Jake."

            "But you have squirrel with me, right?"

            He sighed; I imagined he closed his eyes in annoyance and/or at my stupidity.  "I did not say squirrel, I said—"

            I'd already rushed forward, tackling him as he fired.  He didn't hit me, and I managed to slam him into the middle of the street.  Somewhere along the way, he'd dropped his gun.  He flickered over and started swinging at me so fast I barely missed two out of every three punches he threw.

            I managed to get in a few jabs, but a few cars started coming.  I grabbed him by the tie—why would he wear such a thing?—and his shirt, picked him up, slammed him into an oncoming semi truck.  I'd only swung him into the trailer, which leaned precariously towards the sidewalk and I prayed the whole thing didn't flip over.  It had been speeding, but managed to rectify itself as the man punched me in the chest and sent me flying into a store window.

            What he didn't expect was that I'd hung on to his stupid tie the entire time, so I pulled him with me and he rolled to a stop just in front of the store.  By now, people had gathered.

            I wiped glass off my face and carefully got to my feet without cutting myself.  I shook a few shards out of my hair.  I'd disturbed a mannequin couple, both of them thrown further into the clothing store.

            He got up and dusted himself off, looking like any other young business man.  He had longish hair, bright hazel eyes… and, to say it bluntly, he looked like a model… a familiar one at that.  I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen him before, in a TV ad?  On a billboard?  He didn't look like a man to get into a brawl in the middle of an L.A. street; he was pretty distinct. 

            Just as I was about to jump at him, he flickered away—in front of everyone.  I ended up having to do the same, hoping that no one had seen my face.  I got back to my little home in the woods by the time I'd thought about the store security cameras.

************************************

How was that?  Short action, I know.  I just worry if I was descriptive enough.