Hero Go Home

Previously: Digger and Twain arrived in New York and set out to recon the museum. And now…

“So how did it end?” Digger asked.

“What?”

“All the time you took in the van,” Digger said. “It didn’t take you that long just to change into a suit. You were listening to the end of that show, weren’t you?”

After Digger had finished telling the story of Frog Boy, the two of them had tried talking for a while, but had little to say to each other. Finally, Twain had turned the satellite radio receiver back on. But since Digger had forbidden a return to the 80’s music channel, Twain had instead listened to an old-time radio channel. It wasn’t entirely Digger’s cup of tea, but wasn’t bad for the drive.

The past 5 hours or so had been spent listening to a marathon of episodes of this kids’ show, Captain Zero. Apparently, these were “lost” episodes that had been found in a garage somewhere and supposedly hadn’t been heard since they were first broadcast in 1948. They were on the next-to-last episode when Digger had stepped out of the van so Twain could change clothes. Twain had spent an extra-long time changing. Digger knew Twain wasn’t shy, so he figured Twain was carrying some sort of secret weapon he didn’t want Digger to know about. As long as he didnt use it on civilians, Digger didn’t care.

“Zombie attack on Pearl Harbor,” Twain said. “But Captain Zero figured out how to kill them.”

“Which was?”

“Hey, if you couldn’t be bothered to listen to the show, I can’t be bothered to explain it to you,” Twain said.

“I just didn’t want to wait,” Digger said. “We’re on a limited timeline, you know.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll save the hostage,” Twain said. “We have plenty of time.”

“How can you be sure?” Digger asked.

Twain just smiled again. “We’re here.”

Digger looked up. The building was ornate enough, with its arched doorways, but much smaller than he’d expected. “This is it? It’s like a model of a museum.”

“Told you it was small,” Twain said. “The beauty part is, their security probably sucks.”

“You mean no pressure sensors or laser grids?”

Twain shook his head. “Don’t have anything valuable enough. Not that they know of, anyway. Let’s go in separately. Nothing fancy, just walk through the galleries and keep an eye out for cameras. See you inside.”

Twain crossed the street and entered. Digger followed a moment later. Inside, the museum was cool and dark.Digger could almost hear his eyes sigh in relief after the sun’s glare outside. His relief was short-lived when he saw the counter in front of him, however.

“That’ll be fifteen dollars,” said the attendant at the counter, a slim, pretty black woman with straight hair swept severely off to one side. Her bored eyes flicked down to his hands, swathed in bandages and held in slings, and she was suddenly much more empathetic. “Are you okay?” she asked.Then she stopped and looked at him more closely. “Do I know you? Haven’t we met before?”

How does she know Digger? Is the jig up? Find out tomorrow in our next episode!

To read from the beginning, click here…

Or to read the next chapter, click here!

Previously: On their way to New York, Digger told Twain the story of Frog Boy, the most annoying bad guy he ever met. And now…

The alleyway stank. The smell reminded Digger of the fair, a sour-sweet reek that brought to mind a dead rat mired in a puddle of congealed sticky soda. A grim thought, but then, these were grim times. Digger was wearing skater pants.

Twain had insisted on putting a disguise on Digger for their visit to the museum. When Digger objected and asked why, Twain had simply stated it was “his thing,” and besides, they didn’t want to attract undue attention on a simple recon.

So Digger now sported a T-shirt, a tasteful green one rather than one with a ridiculous slogan. The Drillers were wrapped in bandages and further hidden in slings that Twain had pulled out of a cabinet overflowing with medical and first aid supplies. Twain was both taller and slimmer than Digger, though, so he had nothing that fit Digger’s legs beyond sweat pants and the skirts worn by Judy Buckle, the Crime Clown. And the skater jeans.

They were ludicrous, huge things, like denim bells on his legs. Instead of ringing, though, they just made preposterous flapping noises as he paced back and forth, waiting on Twain and trying to get used to the slings constraining his movement like a straitjacket.

The back doors of the van opened and Twain stepped out, wearing a charcoal gray suit. “Ready?” he asked.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Digger asked.

Twain looked down at himself. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Digger said. “It’s just, it took you so long, and knowing how you operate, I figured you were dressing up like a spaceman or something.”

“I told you, this is a recon,” Twain said. “No reason to get nervous. Just relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Digger said. “Or I would be if I could move my arms. Where is this place?”

“It’s this way, about a half-mile,” Twain said. He turned and walked out of the alley.

Digger walked fast to catch up to him, his skater jeans flapping. “So no more stalling. Where exactly are we going?”

Twain sighed. “It’s easier to show you than tell you,” he said, “but it’s the Kessler Museum of the World.”

“Never heard of it,” Digger said.

“It’s small and private,” Twain said. “Guy named Gordon Kessler, made big money importing heavy metals. Stuff they use to make batteries and things. Fascinated by anthropology, collected all sorts of stuff on his travels. Problem was, he wanted his name on a building, but he wasn’t rich enough, and his collection wasn’t good enough, to get one of the big museums to name anything after him. So he put together a foundation and built his own museum out here in Brooklyn.”

“Geez, what is it with you and museums?” Digger asked.

“It’s just my thing,” Twain said. “What did Monty Python call it? My idiom.”

“And this is where we’ll get the thing that helps me rescue the hostage?”

“Exactly.”

“How?”

Twain smiled. “You’ll see.”

“Don’t smile,” Digger said. “It makes me nervous when you smile.”

What will happen next? Find out tomorrow in our next episode!

To read from the beginning, click here…

Or to read the next chapter, click here!

Previously: On the trip to New York, Digger was describing his encounter with Frog Boy, the most annoying villain he ever met. And now…

“What do you mean?” Twain asked.

“There was no drop at the flea market,” Digger said. “He was just wasting time until time for the meet. I caught him red-handed later and made it another step up the food chain toward the big boss. But I wouldn’t have if Frog Boy hadn’t stopped me from nabbing the guy right there. It still burns that the only reason I succeeded that day was because I lost a fight to some asshole in a frog mask.”

“Well, maybe once we’ve cleaned up this mess, you should try to find him and get some payback,” Twain said. “You know guys who could track him down, don’t you?”

Digger shook his head. “A couple, maybe. But even if they could, it’s not worth it. I’ve moved on. I won’t ever be seeing that guy again.”

 ***

“Thanks for coming in again, Mister Thompson,” said Detective Merrick as he led Flexo into the interrogation room the next day.

“Kosmatka.”

“What?”

“My name,” Flexo said. “It’s Kosmatka. Thompson’s just a stage name, so to speak. And I thought we had already covered everything pretty thoroughly yesterday.”

“Yes, if you want to call that ridiculous story you told ‘covering everything thoroughly,’” said Detective Grayson, who had been waiting in the room.

“Are you trying to pin something on me?” Flexo asked.

“No,” said Merrick. “After all, the way Hero Shield is written, it would be hard to convict you on abetting. No, we’re just here because something new has come up, and we wanted to see if you could help us understand it.”

“What?”

Grayson leaned forward. “When you were talking to Digger yesterday, did he mention anything about shendu guots?”

“I’m sorry, shendu whats?”

“Shendu guots. It’s some kind of miracle fruit juice from China,” said Merrick. “You remember how pomegranate juice was all the rage a few years ago? And before that, it was acai, and before that, it was noni juice? Well, this shendu guots is supposedly the next big thing. Makes old men young, makes young men strong, heals wounds, restores mental sharpness, erases wrinkles. It’s like a steroid on steroids.”

“Never heard of it,” Flexo said.

“You’re sure Digger never mentioned it?”

“I would have remembered what’s it gots,” Flexo said. “”Why are you asking?”

“Because this stuff is extremely rare,” said Grayson. “Illegal to export from China, as a matter of fact. But the Organic Chemistry lab at the university happened to come across a few liters somehow, until someone stole them yesterday. Broke in just minutes after police were dispatched to the bank for Digger’s robbery.”

“You think the two are related?” Flexo asked.

“Let’s say the timing is suspicious,” Grayson said.

***

“Hey, I’m getting thirsty. You want to stop somewhere and grab a soda, or should I get something out of the cooler there?” Digger said, pointing at a large cooler behind Twain’s seat.

Twain smiled, but shook his head. “What’s in there is not for drinking. Not yet, anyway.”

What will happen when Digger and Twain reach New York? Find out next week when we continue Run, Digger, Run!

To read from the beginning, click here…

Or to read the next episode, click here!

Previously: Digger was telling the story of Frog Boy, the most annoying villain he ever fought. And now…

“You used your Drillers in the middle of a flea market?” Twain asked disbelievingly.

“I didn’t say I used them. I said I fired them up,” Digger said. “I was mad and I was new.”

“You’re saying you wouldn’t use them now?” Twain asked. “Because I thought I heard about you getting into a fight and blowing up a mall last year.”

“It was just the food court,” Digger said. “And yeah, I did that, but not because I was too frustrated to think of anything else.”

“That’s comforting.”

“Didn’t matter, anyway, because as soon as the Drillers powered up, he stepped in and deflected my arm up. The flea market was in this huge metal building. The blast made a lot of noise, but the force dissipated quickly enough that the roof barely rattled. Broke a lot of glass around us, though.

“I tried to hit him with my other hand, but he deflected that, too. Then he hit me about eight times in a second and kicked me hard in the chest. Knocked me back into a table full of wire jewelry. And then out of nowhere, he calls me a douchebag.”

Twain laughed.

“That’s not funny,” Digger said. “I’d never even met this guy. Why’d he have to go and make it personal?”

“You have to know you,” Twain said.

“I know me,” Digger said. “I’m not that bad.”

“Keep telling yourself that. So what happened then?”

“Well, I glanced toward the door, but the guy I was tailing was long gone. So I turned back to Frog Boy, but he was gone, too. I heard running footsteps and a shout, so I ran that way. And down the aisles I see this guy on the ground, and there’s someone standing over him.”

“Frog Boy,” Twain said.

“No, it was some guy on a skateboard. He’s all splattered with mud or something, with his hair hanging down in his face. He looks at me all panicked for a second, then he grabs something off the ground and skates away. And the guy gets up and says, ‘He took my necklace!’”

“Wait, what happened to Frog Boy?” Twain asked.

“I asked the guy that, and he tells me Frog Boy just disappeared. Like he could teleport or something. Kinda superfluous when you can jump like a frog, but I guess we don’t pick the powers. The powers pick us,” Digger said.

“And that’s the most annoying guy you ever fought?” Twain asked skeptically. “I’m not seeing it. I was way more annoying than that. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Not really,” Digger said. “You just had to be there. The way I couldn’t lay a glove on him, no matter what I tried, and the way he called me a douchebag, when I hadn’t done a thing to him. Plus there’s the whole thing with the guy I was tailing.”

“Yeah, I guess he ruined that for you,” Twain said.

“No, that’s just it,” Digger said. “He didn’t.”

What could Digger mean? Find out tomorrow in our next exciting episode!

 To read from the beginning, click here…

Or to read the next episode, click here!

Previously: Digger was telling the story of Frog Boy, the most annoying villain he ever fought. And now…

“Do I even want to know?” Twain asked.

“Not a big deal,” Digger said. “Serial killer named Clockwise, used wind-up robots to murder people. And at every scene, they’d find an old recording of this song playing. Melody’s a straight-up rip of Buffalo Gals. I heard it too many times. Way too many. Sorry, where was I?”

“Dungeons and Dragons sheet music,” Twain said.

“It wasn’t… Never mind. Anyway, I figure out that the frog mask apparently isn’t just a random thing he threw over his face, because he can really jump. I’m not just going to circumvent this guy, so Plan B.” Digger pounded his left fist into his right palm. “Kick his ass.”

“Where you found out that leg strength is not just good for jumping,” Twain said.

“Oh, that’s not even the weird part,” Digger said. “I step up and start throwing punches at this guy…”

“You didn’t blast him?”

“I don’t generally blast people on first meeting unless I’m sure they can take it,” Digger said. “Or unless they’re threatening people or something.”

“Cause you’re noble like that,” Twain said.

“No, because I’m…” Digger hesitated, rethinking. “No, screw it, let’s go with noble. But the point is, this guy was a good fighter. I mean, really good. ‘Like I couldn’t lay a glove on him’ good.”

“And that’s unusual?”

“It’s practically impossible,” Digger said. “Lots of guys can beat me in a fight, but I can always get in a few good shots of my own. Between the speed of my reflexes and my enhanced senses, you’re not going to make me miss for long.

“But this guy… It’s like he was psychic, reading my mind to see when I would attack and from what direction, or maybe he had some kind of short-term precognition, so he could see what I was about to do and counter it.”

Twain shook his head. “And you’re sure he wasn’t just that much better than you.”

“Pretty sure,” Digger said. “I’ve replayed that fight dozens of times in my mind, hundreds, trying to figure out how I could have gotten in another shot at him, but the more I think about it, the more it seems like he just knew what I was going to do before I did it.”

“What do you mean, another shot?”

“Huh?”

“You said you wanted to get in another shot at him,” Twain said.

“Well, I did hit him once,” Digger said. “He got distracted by something, and while he was looking off the side, I clocked him a good backhand across the jaw with the metal Driller. He felt it, that’s for sure. But then I got cocky and thought I had the upper hand, and the next thing I knew, I was sliding facefirst across the floor. And by then, I’d about had it. I decided to finish this thing, once and for all.”

“What did you do?” Twain asked.

“What do you think I did? I fired up the Drillers.”

Will Digger prevail? Find out in the next exciting episode!

 To read from the beginning, click here…

Or to read the next episode, click here!

Previously: Digger was telling Twain the story of the most annoying villain he ever fought. And now…

“Hit by what?” Twain asked.

“Who are we talking about?” Digger said. “Frog Boy. I turn around, and there’s this guy in the most ridiculous get-up you’ve ever seen. These weird coveralls like a painter’s smock, leather gardening gloves that looked like he’d stuffed them with newspaper or something–guy had huge hands–this rubber frog mask, and I kid you not, swim fins on over his shoes.

“I’m like, ‘Dude, what the hell?’ because the guy I’m tailing is getting away, but Frog Boy just tells me I have to let this guy leave.

“So I say, ‘Who’s going to make me? You?’ And he says, ‘Duh, I’m already doing it.’”

“Well, at least what he lacked in fashion sense, he made up in confidence,” Twain said.

“Don’t start rhyming again,” Digger said.

“I’m not,” Twain said. “Just saying, I like this guy’s style.”

“You would. So anyway, I decide not to go all Drillery on his ass, because I’m trying to be discreet here…”

Twain burst out with a sudden laugh that sounded almost as if he had been punched in the gut.

“I know, not my style,” Digger said. “But it’s not as if I go around blowing stuff up whenever I feel like it. It’s usually justified.”

“Usually.”

Digger shook his head. He’d learned too many times that trying to win that argument was a waste of time and mental energy. People made up stories, about themselves and others, to make sense of the world and keep track of everything that happened. Once they had given you a particular role, no amount of talking could change it. You could only change it through action, and often not even then, since there were so many ways to interpret a given action. “So…” he continued, letting the point go, “I decided to just go round the guy. Or over. You seen how I can jump, right?”

Twan nodded.

“My guy is almost to the exits, but I can catch him up with one big jump. So I don’t even bother arguing with this guy. I just turn and leap. And BOOM! I feel two feet hit me in hte back and I’m hit sideways across two aisles and crash down in front of this guy selling Dungeons and Dragons miniatures and sheet music.”

“I didn’t know Dungeons and Dragons put out sheet music,” Twain said.

“It wasn’t Dungeons and Dragons sheet music,” Digger said. “Just regular sheet music. Those were just the two things this guy was selling.”

“Weird combination.”

“What part of ‘flea market in Berkeley’ led you to think it would be anything other than weird?” Digger asked. “I just remember the booth because the guy lands in front of me as I’m getting up, and he points at this piece of music, this song I’d never heard of called Dance With a Dolly With a Hole in Her Stocking, and he’s like, ‘I know that song.’”

“You remember the name?”

“I ran into it later.”

How will the story end? Join us tomorrow for the next exciting episode!

To read from the beginning, click here…

Or to read the next episode, click here!