COMICS

Jase awoke in the hospital. He spent only a handful of days in recovery before he was released. Other than his concussion, his recovery was relatively quick. The wounds weren't too deep, however suspicious they may have been. It seemed as though he'd be quite sore for weeks to come.

When Jase got home, he stepped into his room to look over his wounds; while in the hospital, he hadn't really gotten a chance to. He was always in a gown or having his wound worked on. He undressed and looked himself over in the mirror. He saw that his leg had a still-pink scab that coiled around his thigh and down to his calf.

He glanced over his thin but defined arms and flexed, revealing a healthy amount of muscle coating his tall frame. His long, curly black hair draped over his shoulders; it surrounded his narrow face and defined his strong jaw.

Jase threw on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants while he began to relax. He planned to enjoy these last few days of recovery, and then it was back to school.

He was worried if Dick would return or if he had ended it; after all, he didn't have his method of defense anymore. If Dick attacked him tomorrow, it would be over for him, and it's not like he could tell his parents what had actually happened. Jase's cheeks burned red just thinking of what had happened; it was all so childish.

"You're a superhero dude" mocked Jase in Hal's tone of voice, just as the doorbell rang.

DING DONG!

Hal had long awaited Jase's return from the hospital. He wanted to know everything that had happened; he had run from his house all the way over to Jase's, all while hugging a stack of vibrant papers to his chest. When Delma answered the door, he had a pair of bifocals on and bags under his eyes, and in his hands he clutched some papers of his very own.

When Hal walked in, he was greeted by a silent, warm smile from Mrs. Romero while she sat at a table covered in more of the same papers Delma had in his hands.

'These guys are clearly stressed over whatever these papers are', thought Hal. He stomped up the stairs towards Jase's room. He swung open the door and saw Jase laying in his bed on his phone, moping; he was clearly still upset by what had happened, but Hal had a plan to fix that.

"Hey Hal wassup?"

"Oh you know, school and stuff…." replied Hal with a stale tone.

"What do you have in your arms Hal?" inquired Jase as he beckoned towards the pile of papers Hal still kept pressed tight against him.

"Oh these? They're my comic books!" Hal said proudly. As he fanned them out onto Jase's bed.

"Why did you bring these here dude?" replied Jase, unamused by Hal's antics.

"Well I thought now that you have those cool grappling lines, you need a hero name…."

"No Hal, I'm not doing that again, I got my ass kicked when I tried it."

"YOU TOOK OFF DICK'S EAR BRO! You basically won that fight."

"And I wound up in the hospital!"

"You're not seeing the bigger picture. Jase, other kids see worse people than Dick every day on their way home from school. They aren't gonna do what you did."

"Yeah because they aren't crazy…."

"C'mon Jase just pick a comic you like…. Please?"

"Fine dude..." Jase scanned the pile and picked a random one. "I don't know... what about this one?" Jase said as he placed his finger on the cover of a comic that read "THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF MAXPLODE!"

Hal's face lit up with excitement as he found a page that showed the character "Maxsplode" in all his glory. He had a dark green outfit with orange highlights and a helmet that matched the color scheme. He wore only tactical clothes, a bulletproof vest with pockets and pouches for gear, and boots for any terrain, and he had power fists lined with explosives. Obviously, the idea of hydraulically enhancing a punch was cool to Jase, but he had never considered the use of that in real life.

'No!' thought Jase, 'I can't humor this.'

Jase spoke out, "Listen man, I'm glad you approve of what I did but I'm not doing it again."

"You don't get it Jase, your mom could get robbed out there….. Or worse dude…. I'm serious."

"No, you don't get it Hal. I've got a desire to live."

"You could take him if you knew what you were doing. I'm sure you would've wiped the floor with him if you just knew how to fight."

"Listen, I think I made my point to him, but if he does anything again, we'll do the hero thing…. Deal?"

"Hmmmmm, do I get to pick the name if you do become a hero?"

...…

...

"Fine….."

"DEAL!"

With that, Hal said his goodbyes and left Jase's room to venture back to his home.

When he stepped outside, a brisk wind hit him, and he saw an envelope on the ground labeled "FORECLOSURE IMMANENT," addressed to Delma Romero.

'Oh no,' thought Hal as he picked up the envelope and placed it back in the mailbox where it belonged.

He then stepped out onto the sidewalk and began his walk home. He passed by the alleyway where the ground still had some dried red stain that hadn't been washed away, shielded by the rain from the nearby fire escape.

He imagined what he could have done had he been the one with the power winches; he would've saved Jase easily. He would've gone to the media and told the criminals of the city that there was a new protector, just like his comics. Obviously, he knew life wasn't quite so perfect, but he could do it too, right? I mean, it was easy for Jase to find something to be his superpower; he had plenty of money to find something to be his.

He dreamed of having that for himself; even the backstory was tragic enough for his liking: 'A poor boy robbed of his every penny,' he thought.

When the streetlight above his head suddenly came on, he snapped back. 'What the hell am I thinking?' he thought to himself.

He knew deep down that it wasn't okay to think that way about his friend, but he couldn't help it. Was this jealousy?

'How can I be so selfish as to be jealous when I have so much more than he does?'

He walked home, beating himself up for something he hadn't even said. When he got home, the same intrusive thoughts plagued him. He opened up a comic and began to read it, envisioning himself as the hero of the story.

He quietly read his comic aloud so he could better focus, and every now and then he would interject with "I could do that too," as if he were having an argument with the very story he was reading.