43 The Power of Money #43
"Wow, that guy's jaw is more fragile than my grandma's antique china," I mumbled, eyeing Trickster sprawled on the ground. Limbs all over the place, like a one-man interpretive dance gone wrong.
I remember reading about Trickster having a glass jaw, but I didn't think a single punch would be enough to knock him out.
"Whelp, it's a time-saver for me, huh, so who cares?" I continued, casually crouching down to snag his snazzy flying belt. As for his bag of tricks, well, into the shadow storage it went. A magician never reveals his secrets, but apparently, I do.
Deciding to get a bit artsy, I wrapped him up in some shadowy tendrils for that extra flair before straightening up. Glancing around, it seemed the audience – aka random bystanders – was giving me the side-eye due to my less-than-heroic actions of robbing an unconscious man.
Awkwardly chuckling, I shrugged off their judgmental gazes and made my way toward the exit.
Once outside, I unleashed shadowy tendrils into the sky, swinging away like an edgelord Spider-Man, disappearing from the scene. After gaining a decent distance, I whipped out my phone and shot a quick text to Ted Kord. Something along the lines of "coming over – the situation is dealt with, mate." His positive reply was like the green light for a superhero rendezvous.
Dismissing the shadows that hid my identity, I strolled back into the real world, ready to catch a cap and make my way to Kord Industries.
For a solid week, my routine was all about hitting the gym with Wildcat, throwing jabs until my arms felt like jelly, and then retreating to some desolate corner of the city to practice my edgy shadow manipulation powers.
The initial days were all about perfecting the art of looking cool with tendrils and shadows. But Wildcat, being the no-nonsense coach he is, decided I needed something more.
"Your improvement is slowing down, kid. Time for some real combat experience," he declared.
Instead of setting up some standard sparring matches like a regular coach, he suggested a different approach – dressing up and patrolling the streets of New York at night, hunting down trouble and dealing with it.
An unconventional method, but hey, who am I to argue with a boxing legend?
So, not nearly shameless enough to put on a pair of tight and set my ass on display for the whole world to see, I covered myself in shadows and roamed the city like a creep with a mission.
It was the perfect deal – I get combat experience, the city gets a safer night, and Wildcat gets to revel in his mentoring success. Everyone is happy! Well, maybe not thugs who ended up on the wrong end of my not-so-refined shadow control powers. Broken bones were an unintended side effect.
Surprisingly, my nocturnal escapades hadn't brought me face-to-face with any other heroes or villains. Trickster's appearance was the first notable encounter since the Asylum debacle.
Despite the lack of action, I wasn't too bothered. The Asylum incident had given me more points than I knew what to do with, but it also left its mark. Sure, I might have put on a front of rainbows and sunshine, but there were nights when I woke up drenched in sweat.
Witnessing that much chaos and carnage in one night tends to leave a scar, even if it's not visible. Thankfully, the nightmares had ceased, but the memories lingered, an unsettling presence that refused to fade. Enough of that gloom, though.
After paying the cabbie and thanking him, I made my way into the Kord Industries building. Straight to Ted Kord's office, no detours. His secretary gave me a nod, a silent invitation to enter. I reciprocated the gesture and walked in. There he was, Ted Kord, engrossed in scrutinizing a map spread across his desk.
"Already hard at work, I see," I greeted with a grin, leaning over his desk to get a better look at the map. "So, what do you think?"
Ted turned his gaze from the map, quirking an eyebrow at me. "I don't need to ponder over it. Spent days trudging through the Black Forest, setting up those gadgets to sniff out any whiff of alien tech," he explained, shifting his attention back to the map. "Activated them already. Should be getting the results any moment now."
As Ted finished his sentence, the map sprouted several circles, rapidly expanding to cover its entirety. He looked up at me again, offering a deadpan expression. "Just so we're clear, if this turns out to be a wild goose chase, I'm not going to be a happy camper," he deadpanned, shooting me a mock glare.
I couldn't help but chuckle at his dry humor. "Don't worry, buddy. Trust the process; it's foolproof," I reassured him with a nonchalant wave.
Proving my confidence right, within one of the circles, a blinking dot materialized, indicating that Ted's sensors had indeed detected an abnormality – a potential lead to the abandoned Apokoliptan outpost.
I flashed Ted a triumphant grin. "See? Foolproof," I boasted, and he responded with a sigh of relief, evidently glad that his efforts hadn't been in vain. "So, how do we get there?" I asked, shooting him a curious look.
"By plane. Baden-Württemberg's Black Forest is all the way in Germany," Ted explained.
I couldn't resist a chuckle. "And I suppose you have a jet plane casually parked somewhere nearby?" I quipped.
Ted's grin widened at my comment. "No, but I've got a cargo plane that'll serve our purposes just fine," he declared. "Meet me here bright and early tomorrow, and we'll embark on your grand adventure." He shifted his focus back to the map, eyes gleaming with excitement.
I couldn't help but grumble, "Well, that's a polite 'get the heck out of here' if I've ever seen one."
Ted, still absorbed in his map, flashed me a nonchalant grin, adding to my amusement.
"Oh well, see you tomorrow," I mumbled, making my way to the exit, ready to catch some shut-eye and gear up for the next day.
...
Standing in the cargo hold of Ted Kord's private plane, I marveled at the vast expanse of greenery below through the window, the world passing by in a blur beneath us. "Must be nice to have money," I mumbled, briefly daydreaming about the day when I could casually summon a cargo plane on a whim. Achievable, yes, but it would take time and effort – two things I was more than willing to invest.
My reverie was abruptly interrupted by Ted's voice, pulling me back to the reality of our current mission. "We're almost there. Prepare to jump," he announced, handing me a backpack.
"Parachute?" I raised an eyebrow, seeking clarification. He nodded. "Pfft, who needs those?" I scoffed, tossing the parachute aside with a carefree grin. "Just give me the signal to jump!"
Ted hesitated for a moment, then nodded, deciding to place his trust in my judgment. "Alright, get ready. We're jumping in three... two... one!" The cargo hold door opened, and the rush of wind signaled that it was time to embrace the exhilarating free fall.
"Cowa-fucking-bunga!" I exclaimed, launching myself into the air with all the grace of a startled cat, my wide-open in tandem with the strong wind creating a rather undignified sight.
Quickly snapping my mouth shut, I reached for the Trickster's pilfered belt on my waist, clicking a hidden button on the buckle.
A sudden weightlessness enveloped me as I found myself suspended mid-air. My initial excitement transformed into a wide grin as I took in the breathtaking view around me.
However, that grin soon faded as I glanced downward, realizing the considerable height from which I had leaped. While I'd never been afraid of heights—explaining my carefree jump—there was a distinct possibility that I might develop a newfound fear right at that moment.
Rattigan, ever the cheeky rodent, popped his head from my jacket's zipper, looking down with an expression of smug arrogance. It was as if he believed his place was naturally high above, gazing down on all creations with contempt.
"Your narcissism never will never cease to amaze me, rat..." I muttered, glancing at the audacious rodent.
In response, Rattigan emitted a series of annoyed chitters that unmistakably conveyed a sentiment of "mind your own business" and "Don't ruin my moment."
...
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