Midnight Misadventures

Brotherly Backstories

   We enter the busy pizza shop, claiming the empty table in the back. I dust a couple stray crumbs off the table and into the floor, while I slide into the booth. My brother sits on the other side bouncing in anticipation, I, on the other hand, am trying to come up with a half-truth that will still get me what I want.

   A waitress drops by our table, and she lays a basket of breadsticks in front of us and flips open her order pad. She looks up from her pad and I see she looks about my age. Her eyes flick past mine briefly and settle on my fourteen-year-old brother, as girls' always seem to do. My brother, according to my friends and squealing middle school girls is 'hot'. He got my father's dark brown hair and pale green eyes, these two traits apparently make girls swoon. I just see my brother who still counts on his fingers. But I won't let this ruin my pizza outing.

   I clear my throat, "Excuse me, can I have a sweet tea, and my brother will have a Dr.Pepper."

   She seems to snap out of the trance and her eyes drift back to me, "Uh, yes of course."

   She leaves off to get our drinks and I give my brother a look. He throws his hands up and places them behind his head leaning back.

   "What? I can't help that my devilish good looks make women fall at my feet." He says.

   I kick him under the table and he grunts in pain he is about to launch into a string of either curses or cusses, but the waitress comes back and puts our drinks on the table.

   "Thanks," Will says, giving the girl a wink.

   The girl blushes and stutters her required response, "What can I do for you today?"

   "We would like a half cheese half meat lovers," I say before my brother dishes out a pickup line. She nods and quickly walks away.

   I look at my brother and shake my head in disappointment.

   "Like I said not my fault, now what is it that you needed?" He asks leaning on the table with his elbows.

   Words come tumbling out of my mouth, "I'm starting a blog and I want my first big scoop to be Whiplash's secret identity."

   His eyes widen, "Listen Lyrah, you know I would do almost anything for you although I don't admit it half the time, but ratting out a fellow superhero? That kind of stretching it. "
   "Look I'm not asking for you to give me his identity I need you to help me gather clues and such so I can figure it out myself. Besides your a vigilante, you're just as illegal as the supervillains." I respond.

   His face clouds over in a way that reminds me if Jeremiah, "I'm still a superhero, I still save lives and stop crimes, just because I'm not just another faceless superhero in an organization doesn't mean I should be illegal."

   He looks genuinely mad, and I think I hit a nerve. "I didn't know you didn't want to join the Hero Association. I thought you said your application was rejected." I reply.

   His face goes red, "It was, but I still feel the same way."

   "Why was your application rejected?" I ask.

    He takes a deep breath, "A new trainee showed up at initiation camp one day, a boy with blue eyes and black hair. We were doing double elimination duels, by elimination they meant kicked out of the association. The first fight I was pit against the trainee who was known as Bulldozer."

   He takes a deep breath and continue, "I won that fight easily, using his size and stupidity against him. When I was up for my second fight a new guy walked in, dressed in blue and white, bursting with confidence. The session leader paired me with him, we started the match, and everyone learned his powers." His face goes dark with that statement and continues

   "He picked me up by the throat without touching me, I figured it was telekinesis so I teleported behind him, knowing telekinesis is only useful if they can see you. But he rose off the floor and without looking at me a wall of air crashed into me, pushing me against the crackling purple barrier making me unable to teleport. The air pushed me to the ground, to my knees. He turned back to me and reached his hand out, and an invisible hand wrapped around my throat, burns coursed up and down my back. 'Yield.' He said. I choked out a yield and the hand releases me, I fell to the ground and my legs and my back were in agony. I had lost my first spar. I went up for my next spar with 3rd-degree burns and I lost miserably. I was kicked out of the academy, all because of a late trainee, just another faceless hero with gray moralities." He finishes.

   I'm shocked, he never told me why he was rejected. No wonder he has such a grudge against heroes. One thing I do know is I recognize his description of the hero who beat him. He is the very same one I'm trying to out. This makes convincing Will so much easier.

   Before I can tell him, the pizza arrives, and he gives his signature smile to the waitress and she stumbles away. We devour the pizza, I the cheese, Will the meat lovers. We finish it in about four minutes and we are ready to leave. We exit the pizza place with money for the bill and a tip left on the table, and our stomach full of topnotch pizza.

   We walk into the cool nighttime air, the light pollution making it difficult to see the few twinkling stars in the sky. The streetlights shine on the sidewalks, making glares in various storefront windows.

   "So," I say, "About Whiplash, I think he is the trainee you faced in the trials."

   "No, he can't be. What would make you think that?" he asks, suddenly very interested in what I had to say.

   "Black hair, blue eyes, blue and white suit? Those are all traits of the one, the only, Whiplash." I respond.

   "Then let's find out his secret identity. I have no problem with unveiling that wind bag's real identity," he says, determination set on his face, like the sun in the west.

   "Interesting insult choice, but let's go. Where do you think we should look first?" I ask.

   "The one place he is guaranteed to be," he says, looking towards the largest building in Crystal City, "The Hero Association's Headquarters."