The Paladin: A Teenage Superhero Story

Chapter 3

Sunday

November 21st

I woke up early the next morning, well rested and in pain. I fell out of bed, wiping the morning grogginess out of my eyes. Sliding on a pair of faded blue sweatpants and an old TCPD hoodie gingerly, I headed down to my workshop. Weekend mornings, afternoons, really anytime not devoted to fighting crime was spent in the forge, repairing gear and honing my weapon skills. Due to my dwindling social life, I had plenty of time to practice. My armor had gotten pretty banged up the night before, but it was a fairly simple fix. All I had to do was change out the kevlar padding and titanium plates. Unfortunately, the shield was a complete bust. It had been riddled with so many holes it would take less time to melt down the steel and make a new shield than repair it. So I tossed it off in the scrap pile, joining all the off-balance swords, faulty armors, and busted gear that were soon to be melted down and reconstituted. Luckily for me, my free time was spent making replacements for my equipment, so another five shields just like it were waiting in the back of the workshop. With a new shield in hand, it was time to train.

Whenever I had spare time I was usually training, to the point where it was practically a reflex. My regiment was simple; an hour on sword and mace, a half hour of throwing, an hour on the heavy bag, and an hour on wrestling drills and conditioning. I had considered adding a bow and arrow to my repertoire, but I was too nearsighted to do it with any efficacy. It wasn't the most labor-intensive training regimen, but crossing blades with someone who knew what they were doing was a rare occurrence for me. So the limited practice had served me well, so far. By the end of the day's training, I was pretty puffed out, dirty sweat soaking through the bandage on my back, stinging the raw nicks and divots in my skin. As I started walking back to the house to take a shower, I was met at the door by a man in his mid-thirties, climbing out of his pick-up truck.

"Well hello there Gerald, come to see my dad presumably," I greeted with feigned formality.

"Perceptive as always Booker, nothing slips past you. He asked me about helping him get a tactical training seminar for the police force so I figured I'd stop by and hash out a plan with him, maybe over some lunch or something," Gerry informed. Gerry was one of my dad's close friends that he met in the Army towards the end of his military career. He also happened to be the only person who knew about my night time hobby, which came from a long night spent at his apartment removing the first bullet from my arm. Good times. "By the way, you're bleeding champ, top right shoulder," he pointed out, gesturing towards my arm. I felt around my shoulder area and sure enough, the bandage had bled through and my t-shirt was stained red.

"Shit! Thanks, guess I better get on taking a shower. Also, my dad is at the station, probably won't be back for a couple of hours," I replied.

"Thanks. So, do I even want to know? Got a little careless and got flanked? Wouldn't your armor cover that part of you though?" he inquired, examining the wound.

"Normally it would, but these guys were professionals. They must have been running about five thousand dollar rig each, easily. SCAR Heavys, with top of the line optics, on top of depleted uranium rounds. My suit never stood a chance, cut through it like butter. Judging by their formation and tactics I'd say they were ex-military, probably some sort of special forces, which would explain everything else," I elaborated.

"Uranium rounds? Ex-military? You've been up against low-level thugs up until this point, but these guys have to be some serious high rollers if what you're saying is true. Maybe you should take a minute to think about this before you get hurt," Gerry insisted.

"Well, I got shot last night Gerry so I'd say it's a little too late for that," I chuckled. Gerry clearly didn't see the humor in my quip as his face stayed deadpan. "Look I'll be fine. I went a little too hard last night, didn't have a good plan and paid the price. I'll just have to go after them from another angle. Next time with a better plan."