WINCH

As Jase walked through the house, his mother spotted him. The scent of searing beef on the stove washed away just a bit of the fatigue Jase was feeling from his eventful evening. He spotted a box of "Hamburg Hustler" on the counter next to her. A pot of water sat on the stove, ready to boil the cheap pasta.

Jase's dad, Delma, and his mother, Pamella, both worked full-time jobs and were rarely home together like this, so this box of pasta his mother was preparing meant a lot. His dad is a mechanic, and his mom works for a retirement home.

As Jase walked past his mother, he watched her smile grow and fade as she saw the grime on his shirt. She knew what had happened just from the look on his face.

Jase quickly ran to his room, swapped his shirt for a fresh one, blasted through the bathroom to wash his face from the blemishes of mud, and then proceeded to head downstairs again. His dad was seated at the kitchen table, chatting with his mother.

Delma sat at the table, holding the top of his rounded stomach. "Hey Jase! How was school, man?"

"It was alright. I had a rough walk home again, but I got back safely."

"Oh…. that's too bad, dude; you know, I bet that Richard boy will regret stealing from you soon. Delma struggled to form a smile for his son, no doubt in an attempt to ease Jase's pain.

"Sure, dad," sighed Jase as he took his place at the table.

"Food's ready!" called his mother from the stovetop. She brought out the meal, which let out an aroma of cheese and cheap, lightly seasoned meat. Nonetheless, it smelled better than the gray smog that blanketed the town.

Pamella talked about her day at work, and Jase was wholeheartedly proud of Pamella for her line of work. She took care of people, and in a cruel world where no one cares about one another, that's the closest form of a hero that Jase has ever known.

As they finished up their meal, Jase's father gently set his utensils down on the rickety table. "Wanna head out to the garage? I've got something cool to show you!"

"Yeah, sure," Jase let out in a flat tone; he was bored but not quite bored enough to fully humor his father's enthusiasm.

As Jase threw on a jacket from a set of hooks near the door, his dad slipped through the door out to the garage, Jase soon to follow. The ambient noise of distant police sirens flooded his ears as he stepped out into the street. He crossed the road, nearly tripping over the very pothole that had given him trouble since his early childhood.

He ventured further towards his father's garage; above it hung a buzzing neon sign that read "Delma's Garage". The glowing sign and gray smeared walls of his father's business sat silently across the street from the Romero household. Jase cracked the hangar door just enough to enter, and the smell of motor oil hit his nostrils hard.

The garage was full of "junk," as the average eye would see it, but these were many treasures to Delma. He had piles of discarded hydraulic joints, tires of all sizes, motor parts, and huge metal cylinders filled with discarded parts. To the side lay a rack of biker helmets and jackets; even further into the garage was a small pile of kevlar vests and bulletproof gear, things his father had from his military days and he liked to reminisce over.

The garage was his father's place of business, his escape from business, his happy place, and his least favorite place all at once. It was a mix of emotions for Delma. He loved to work in the garage, but he didn't want to do state inspections and regular tune-ups; he wanted to build custom cars from scratch and sell them for millions of dollars, set his family up for success, and live out his dreams.

Delma peaked his head out from around a corner; he had long, wavy hair with a long beard to match. He was a burly Samoan man with huge arms and often a short temper; other than that, though, he was essentially a big huggable teddy bear. He always smiled when he saw the neighbors and gave them a basic greeting like "Oh, the weather sure is nice" or "Did you see the big game last night?", He always somehow found a way to take a half hour to chit chat.

"Check this out!" called Delma from the workshop as the metal twang of wires echoed through the garage.

WOOSH!

The wire shot past Jase's head and retracted to his father in a flash. "Isn't that sick?!" exclaimed Delma. Jase was a little shocked by the occurrence but was also excited to see what it was. Jase turned his head to see the sizable hole it left in the wall.

This device clearly had dangerous capabilities, only making it more exciting to Jase. Jase went over to his father to get a closer look at this device his father had nearly decapitated him with.

In his father's hands was a small canister of what looked like pressurized air, a spool of wire, and a small metal clip on the end. "That's a winch line, dude! For some reason they shoot out real fast."

"Where's the hook for it?" asked Jase as he noticed that the wire simply ended with a mount where a hook should be.

Well, I gotta make a few. I got a whole tub of these down the street for dirt cheap, but the guy was being ridiculous about the hooks themselves." Jase had an idea….. Another familiar spark like the one he had in the alleyway.

After spending some more time with his father, he helped him out with a few chores around the workshop. Later that evening, Jase and his father wrapped up, and the duo went inside. Jase finished up his nightly routine and took his gadgets from the garage up to his room to study them further.

The device conveniently fit snug in his hand, and the release trigger was a finger's reach away. "Not bad," whispered Jase as he thought of how he could take on his daily tormentor. Jase didn't get much sleep that night; he was excited to get back at Dick for everything he had done, and that's exactly what he would do.