Backseat Heroes

Carter.

Trouble. Carter Thompson. To the untrained eye, the two have nothing in common. But to tell the truth, they may as well be the same thing. It's easy to be deceived by the rounded face, big eyes and stunning smile, but the twelve year-old is a born trickster.

It's in his blood, really. His brother is the same way, and his mother has all sorts of stories of the pranks his dad would pull when they were teenagers and nothing else in the world mattered but having a good time. His brother, though - wooh. It's a wonder anyone keeps him around, superhero or not.

Spencer, always the late bloomer, was the last of his friends to discover he had powers, not uncovering his telekinesis until the night after his sixteenth birthday. Carter's lost count of how many things he's tripped over or had smashed on his head thanks to Spencer. Spencer even lifts him into the air sometimes, but a sharp shout from their mother always means Carter gets put safely back on the ground.

Carter's just as good at tricking and pranking, however, and he doesn't need the telekinesis to do it. School sees more of his trouble than anywhere else, even home. As it is he's not a fighter, but whenever his friends are cornered by a bully or in any other kind of pickle, he's always got something up his sleeve to get them out of there.

Sometimes he gets tired, though, of being the 'bad kid,' the ones teachers point to when they've got no one else to blame. He's essentially the one scapegoat for the entire middle school, and even if he did stop his tricks and plays, he's got a nasty feeling he'd still be the guy blamed for everything. It's the one true downside to being such a great trickster.

For once, he'd like the chance to show everyone he's not as bad as they make him out to be. Sure, he's a little crooked, and he probably deserves to get his wrists slapped every so often, but he's no criminal, and he certainly doesn't want to be treated like one by anybody.

/////

It had been a long day. A really, really long day. One that Carter would prefer to forget altogether. Despite it being the last day of school, he'd been kept after for detention - with the nastiest teacher in the building, no less. They really did hate him.

Thankfully his home was only a short distance from the school he attended, so it didn't take long to trudge up to his front door and whip it open. The sounds of intense baking in the kitchen signalled his mom was home, but the lack of blaring cartoons in the living room meant that Spencer was not. Oh well, more cookies for him.

Closing the door behind him, Carter dropped his near-empty bag to the side of the hallway and beelined for the kitchen. His mom, who was used to seeing her youngest child arrive late, didn't chastise him for it. She just looked up from whatever she was mixing in her big red bowl and sighed. "Detention again?"

He nodded, rummaging through the snack cupboard. "Yeah. Someone wrote a bunch of swear words in the boy's bathroom in big letters, with permanent sharpie. Naturally they thought it was me, so boom. Detention." He made a face, shaking his head.

"Okay, but did you do it?"

Carter stuffed half a cookie in his mouth before answering. "C'mon, mom. I make trouble, but I'm no savage. It was probably some eighth grader looking to stir up trouble."

He ran off before anymore conversation could be had, half a dozen cookies stacked precariously in one hand, half a bag of chips in the other. Without a second thought he shouldered open his slightly ajar bedroom door, and immediately regretted it. A gallon of water doused him almost immediately, soaking him to the bone and turning the cookies he was holding to sludge.

Carter groaned, mentally cursing older brothers, his in particular. As if on cue, Spencer's obnoxious laugh suddenly started up from his room down the hall. For a twenty two-year old, he didn't really act his age. It wouldn't matter, though - he'd just get him back later on tonight, maybe with a bag of 'accidentally' spilled marbles, or a bucket of chocolate syrup on his door, just to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Really, the possibilities were endless.

/////

"Sure, really funny, dude - or dudette, I guess. Trick the trickster! Hilarious! I'm dying over here, in this chair you conveniently built so I couldn't do my telekinesis thing." Yeah, Spencer was kind of really annoyed. Sure, kidnap him, blindfold him, tie him up. It's whatever. Totally cool, man, considering with minor manipulation of his powers he could get himself out in a jiffy.

But stick him in a chair with the ability to totally kill his telepathic vibe? Not cool, not in the least. Well - he figured it was the chair. He was no Cyphoid, he wasn't a brainiac with smartness and everything who could probably get out of this in a heartbeat. Nah, he's just Strife, a guy who eyeballs stuff to make it move.

Actually, it was kind of depressing, come to think of it - how dependent he was on his telepathy to save him. Huh, maybe he better work on that whole 'reliance' thing.

From the look of it, he had quite a bit of time to think about it. Who knows - maybe when whoever tied him up came to dramatically perform his supervillain monologue or whatever he'd want to do, Spencer would be able to use the newly acquired 'no more reliance on power' thing to, like, escape or something.

He let his chin drop to his chest, uttering a dejected sigh. Yeah, right, and the moon would turn purple.

Actually, wait, don't jinx it - it almost happened once, thanks to yet another mad scientist, three dozen massive vats of purple food coloring, and a rocket the size of a skyscraper. Yeah, that was a mess barely avoided.

Spencer lifted his head slightly, glaring at the dark inside of the blindfold. "If you're another lunatic looking to color the moon, I swear..." Nothing but silence followed.

/////

A/N: Aaaaand so concludes the introduction for the next to last of our five main characters, Carter, and his big bro Spencer. If you liked any part of it, any part at all, hit that 'like' button and let me knoooow!