Woody Woodpecker man what a funny guy. I mean really. Jim Carrey makes me chuckles once in a while, and Chris Rock has his moments, but I think they all idolize Woody Woodpecker. I mean who wouldn't after all, don't you? Who wouldn't want to fly around and beat up some really corny bad guy without any consequences whatsoever? I mean that's sort of like what I do except for the consequences thing. Consequences all share one common trait you see they suck. And they don't just regular everyday run of the mill suck. They hardcore suck. They suck with a smile. They suck like a Hoover vacuum on high with a thirst for dust.

"Hehehehaha, hehehehaha, hehehehehehehe!" shouted the TV

Oh man the laugh; you've got to love the laugh, that crazy ass Woody Woodpecker only laugh. He would definitely win the annual maniacal villain laugh-off. if they had one that is. But that's not the point, the point is his laugh is great. his laugh has so many components too it. First it's got the "hehehehaha" which just pisses off the bad guy to no end, then it's got the second wave of "hehehehaha" which you normally don't hear because he's too busy pounding your ass into your throat. Then he just finishes you off with that machine gun like "hehehehehehehe", but by then your already off a cliff, in an ocean, or stuck up a telephone pole with no way down.

And then the show was over and I was alone with myself again. and no not that kind of "alone with myself" more like the sad, depressed loser who has superpowers and runs around the city at night dressed up like George Dubya, all while sharing a mansion with a really hot chick who can turn into an angel and an uptight ex-villain turned butler who could kill you six times before you hit the floor while making sausage and ironing your boxers. Speaking of said butlers. I was hungry. So of course I marched my sexy little super powered arse into the kitchen to locate some grub. Upon my arrival into the kitchen I found the buttleriffic Alfonse Saint-Libatique washing some dishes, completely engrossed in his chores, and as usual paying me no attention. I cleared my throat once and received no reply. Damn Brits. A second clearing of my vocal passages went unheard and now I was slightly pissed and severely hungry.

"Yo Fonzie" I called, knowing the nickname would at least get his attention, and probably earn me a beating. As he vanished from sight my suspicions were confirmed. Oh yeah, little thing about Alfonse. Besides being an nth degree black belt, he can also turn invisible. Neat little trick especially when you need to run away. or beat the holy hell out of someone. I took a defensive position, at least humoring Alfonse that I was going to put up a fight. Unfortunately my spine didn't agree as a blunt object, most likely Alfonse's elbow, struck it hard and fast. A flurry of blows that I couldn't see but sure as hell felt followed the initial strike. Alfonse kept this beating brief thankfully, and after about 25 seconds the invisible barrage of pain ceased. The shape of a man became transparent before me and then Alfonse's form came into full detail in its place.

"Home early aren't we?" Alfonse said smugly, disregarding the scuffle that had just taken place.

"Home early? From where?" I asked genuinely confused.

Alfonse rolled his eyes and walked over the television, switching it on, probably deciding that answering my question was beneath him.

The TV buzzed to life and upon its screen was the image of a bank, a parade of cop cars parked outside, and a media circus not far behind. The voice of an unfamiliar reporter narrated the scene. "Once again, this is Tanya Lang reporting live from the Second National Bank of Pacific City. About an hour ago, four armed men burst in and took hostages in the lobby of the bank. They quickly took as much money and valuables as they could from the cashiers and tellers and then tried to escape. Their heinous plot was thankfully foiled by Bush43, who came seemingly out of nowhere and pummeled the would-be bank robbers into submission"

"Your short-term memory is fading, Mr. Carter," Alfonse cut in as the narration died down on the television.

"My short-term memory is just fine," I said through gritted teeth. "That wasn't me, Alfonse."

I clenched my fist so hard that I heard ever knuckle crack, I heard every tendon moan in pain. The appearance of all these newbie heroes like Jet-Bastard was bad enough, but now some jerk was wearing my mask and my costume and was going to end up slandering my already bad name. Lovely, just lovely.

I stormed out of the kitchen and started out in search of my mask, I had to find this guy and teach him that his actions have consequences

And he was going to learn first hand that consequences suck.

Bush43
Issue #16
"Wannabe"
By James Queally

Twenty Minutes Later

The city was real pretty at night, a nice fa‡ade. For every beautiful snapshot of the skyline you could take, there was an equally gruesome sight to see once you dared to venture into the city's black heart. For every model, law-abiding, goody freaking two-shoes down there, there was a sick sadistic bastard waiting across the street to take his purse or slit his throat. That was the sad part really, Pacific City had become more of a playground then a place to live. The people were just chess pawns in stupid battles and games between heroes and villains, between rival megalomaniacs, between heroes that had taken their vendettas too far. He had seen innocents die because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or worse, because they wanted to get up close and see one of their heroes in the flesh, but ended up with a head wound or brain damage for their troubles.

I began to casually leap between buildings, trying to head in the general direction of the bank. As I moved the brooding thoughts slipped from my mind for now and my focus re-shifted upon the thought of my impostor. I mean I can understand the reasoning behind wanting to go out and dress up as me, the ladies, the fans, the heroics. But it's got to stay as a fantasy. I mean sure I fantasize about lots of things but that doesn't mean I go out and do them. An image of Victoria dressed up as a certain intern coming home to congratulate a victorious Clinton42 came to mind, but I let my whacko erotica dreams go away. for now anyway.

"Focus Carter" I muttered to myself, allowing the devilish smile to fade. I slid down the fire escape of an adjacent building and landed with more grace than usual across the street from the Second National Bank. Now, I'm far from Matlock, Sherlock Holmes, or even one of the Scooby gang for that matter, but I figured I still had a chance to make some use of the crime scene lying before me. A slipstream of caution tape greeted me as I crouched down behind the hood of an aging Camarro. Most of the fanfare shown on the television had died down. Small bastions of police officers were still there, mostly pulling cleanup duty. A ragtag crew of reporters and civilians were still around as well, most likely having missed the original ruckus, they would now piece together a story of whispers from each other, misconstrue the facts, and publish it as a headline in some trash tribunal the next day. Before the night was over there would probably be a front-page article declaring that I was the one who actually committed the robbery.

I wasn't here to lead the fight against yellow journalism though, I'd leave that for Pulitzer man and the Nobel rangers. and with my luck sooner or later there would actually be a Pulitzer man. I crept forwards and passed the protective barrier of yellow tape and scanned my eyes over the cobblestone area that marked a pathway leading to the main entrance of the bank. A few splotches of dried blood met my gaze, but nothing helpful. Who was I kidding? I sure as hell didn't plan on dusting for fingerprints next. it looked like I was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way and hunt the little bastard down.

Some shouts rose up from the gathering of cops at the other end of the crime scene and for a split second I thought they saw me. Their attention seemed to be diverted elsewhere though; one of them was running around and waving his radio in the air frantically. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying entirely but the words super", "Madison Boulevard" and "55th Street" came through loud and clear. Wonderful, it was probably one of my old villains deciding to call me out again for an epic last stand. I think that would make my fifth last stand this month. It looked my search for the impostor was going to have to wait. the real Bush43 had a job to do.

Traversing the long winding path of rooftops and radio towers that would lead me to Madison Boulevard should have by all rights taken me at least a half hour, and that's if I didn't fall and my bust my ass a few times on the way. Thankfully I had hitched a ride on top of a news truck following a trio of cop cars with sirens blaring. The cops could have been going anywhere but there was a super involved. so the news van could only have been headed one way. deep into the heart of trouble.

I slapped myself. "Deep into heart of trouble?" I was starting to sound like one of those really bad cop dramas that nobody likes but everybody watches. The van banked right, causing the chassis to shake violently, and nearly throwing me off the roof. Not like it was going to hurt me. I just didn't feel like dragging my ass back up to the rooftops again. I was thoroughly enjoying my VIP ride to the bad guy showdown. Come to think of it, getting a ride to all my battles would make me a lot less tired the next morning. Maybe it was time for. nah I couldn't. Could I? I had never really weighed the option but now seemed like as good a time as any. Yeah. maybe it was time for a Bush mobile! I could get an El Dorado. or a Camri. or. or a Honda Civic! Yeah a Honda Civic! I'd soup it up with some cool vinyl and sirens and really loud speakers and other assorted crap I saw on the Fast and The Furious DVD! Oh man it'd be so awesome!

Yeah that's it I'm definitely getting a..

BOOM!

The van fishtailed and nearly spun out completely. The sudden motion caused me to fall face first on the roof of the silver van, leaving a superhero size dent in the metal.

"Slick move" I muttered to myself in a slightly pissed off tone. I leapt from the car and into a nearby alleyway, scampering up the nearest fire escape so I could get a bird's eye view of the current carnage. Upon my arrival I peered down and found a familiar and troubling site that had most likely been the cause of my ride crashing and burning. There was a man clad in orange scales and claws tearing up pieces of the asphalt, like huge chunks the size of Oprah's waist, and hurling them at anything and everything. Let's see he was lame, he was crazy, and he was arguably retarded. He had nearly met all the requirements to becoming a full-fledged bush villain. He had yet to.

"BUSH! Face me you coward! There will be no running this time!"

Yep, there it is. Lame, crazy, stupid, and driven by vengeance stemming from a past ass kicking. Well he was definitely one of mine. Now that proposed a new question? Who was he? Let's see, covered in fish scales, short, angry. Where had I seen this before?

Oh I know! Catfish Cletus!

Wait. that doesn't sound right.

Seaport Steve!

Nope. that's wrong too

Larry the Ludicrous Longshoremen!

Getting warmer..

The Amazing Goldfish!

Ok. so maybe I had no clue..

Another loud crashing noise, it looked like Flounder was hurling street again, oh he was shouting more too.

"BUSH43! Where are you? Come out and play with the mighty Dragon Man!"

I slapped my hand to my forehead, now remembering this guy. Dragon Man, how could I forget? Well quite easily actually, seeing as he didn't really look much like a dragon. He continued to serve up healthy slices of street pizza to the crowd, and I figured I had let him have enough fun for one day. As I moved to leap all heroic like down onto the scene I heard a few familiar phrases.

"Look it's Bush!

"Give him hell Bush!"

"You lost Florida!"

I posed for a minute allowing their adoration to sink in. but then I saw all the spotlights moving to Dragon Man and Bush43 who were now preparing to face off in the center of the ruined street. wait but I'm up here so how did.. Oh right, impostor.

Half of me wanted to leap down and kick the living crap out of both of them so I could go home. but then the other half. the less crazy half decided we should see how this plays out. As they stared each other down I tried to recall my epically heroic night. I'd so far been late to a bank robbery, surfed on the back of a van, and I was now watching myself fight a super-villain. oh yeah. look out Millennium Man.

I looked back down as my perfect replica hunched his back and bent his knees. Dragon Man took a similar stance and they began to circle each other. The mindless crowd began to cheer me on. well that thing that looked like me anyway. Well, indirectly they were cheering for. oh shut up and watch the fight.

Dragon Man made the first move, leaping out at "me". The other me sidestepped and allowed the dragon-fish guy to eat pavement. Dragon Man seemed to get angry and charged at my impostor swinging out violently with his claws. "Bush" weaved in and out of them with more agility then I possessed. Dragon Man's sixth successive swipe missed and he lost his balance, stumbling right into the fist of the would-be hero. He fell on his ass, but back flipped up quite easily. Wow, for all the agility the new me had he didn't seem to pack a lot of punch.

"No clever quips this time Mr. President, no bad jokes, no one-liners. Of course not. one doesn't normally laugh when facing their demise."

Now this would be the part where I'd give him a verbal bitch slap, kick him in the nuts, and go home for ice cream. The new me didn't seem to be big on words though as he just stood still waiting for Dragon Man's next move.

"Mock me will you?" the villain cried as he charged again. "Bush" stood there calmly and leapt over his dive at the last second, delivering a punishing judo kick to his spine as he passed under the faker's legs. Dragon Man stumbled and skidded to the ground, falling into one of the huge potholes he had created earlier. Oh man, this new me was one hell of a good fighter.

Dragon Man climbed out of the cement cavern he'd leapt into and shook his head, probably feeling embarrassment at having his ass kicked so badly in an open forum. He let out a feral scream and leapt into a forward roll. "Bush" was caught off=guard as Dragon Man completed the rolling kick to his abdomen. My impostor fell to the ground and quickly found Dragon Man's orange claws wrapped around his throat trying to squeeze the life from him. I watched the other me struggle and spasm against the pressure applied to his neck. He reached up with his arms trying to push the villain off of him but he failed. I sighed, now knowing I was going to have to go down there and save the day. I took a few steps back as to get a running start but a howl of dismay cut me off in mid-run. I peered off of the rooftop once more to see my impostor's foot firmly embedded in Dragon Man's crotch. The scaly villain keeled over in pain, holding his crushed junk together. "Bush" arose and struck a victorious pose to the crowd.

I was seething behind the mask, my teeth were grinding together so hard that they felt like they could crack at any second. The sea of reporters and onlookers overflowed in the direction of the hero. He/She/It. whatever they were simply nodded and took off towards in adjacent rooftop. I wanted to chase him, but if I risked that now I also risked the media finding out there were two Bush43's running around Pacific City. Dealing with this problem would be hard enough without a media carnival on my tail. I desperately tried to come up with a non-violent solution to this. After all, as much as I wanted too, I couldn't simply beat the little bastard for doing what I do. For the life of me, I could not find a method that didn't involve blood loss. Thankfully for whoever was behind that mask, I knew somebody who could.

***

"Mind Fuck him?" Mr. Rowe asked

"Yes, Mind Fuck him," I replied.

"Dude. is that even a word?"

"Sure, fuck is a verb and mind is a noun. thus Mind Fuck"

"Noun and a verb. I guess it's a."

"Shut up English class. Can you do it or not?"

"Mind Fuck isn't a word"

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is? You want me to Mind Fuck this poor little misguided soul who decided to put on a mask and defend this city. Because if those are the qualifications for a mind fuck then I've got news for you. I should be busting down the doors of half this city. including yours."

I sat there dumbfounded. I hated it when Isiah talked me into a corner. "Touche" I acknowledged my defeat under my breath. It was at that moment, when my best friend and fellow super Isiah Rowe refused to help me, when I heavily weighed the ethics of what I was trying to do. although that never stopped me from bitching and moaning anyway.

"So you're telling me to let this kid run around all willy-nilly without a care?"

"Not precisely"

"Oh ok Mr. Indifferent then what are you telling me?"

Isiah sighed, "I'm not telling you to do anything, I can only tell you what not to do."

Now it was my turn to sigh, "I guess I didn't get the memo?"

Isiah's frustration died and was reborn as confusion "Excuse me?" he said as he reached into the Doritos bag lying carelessly on the end table.

"Since when did you become Morpheus?" I deepened my voice and put a stupid look on my face "I cannot tell you what to do, but what not to do. do you believe it now Jeffrey, you are the one!"

He returned my smile with an ice cold glare and I think I knew at that point to shut up.

"Do you remember what I did to Teapot?"

I vaguely recalled a sprawled out unconscious crazy woman in the parking lot of a seedy downtown bar. "Yeah you did one of your crazy mind bolt things where you knocked her out? Sort of mind fucked her."

I smiled, he cringed and continued.

"Yeah I put her out for a good twelve hours. I could do that to you, and I'm pretty sure that's long enough to dress you up like a call girl and leave you down in the red light district."

He returned with a Foster's can to accompany my horrified expression

I greedily snatched the beer from his hand.

"Give me that!" I screamed and downed nearly the entire bottle.

"Is alcoholism a power you've been hiding from me?"

"No" I replied coldly "And you can just pretend I said something cool and funny right now because I'm too busy choking back bile to make a joke."

Isiah smiled and stood up, trudging towards the refrigerator in search of a replacement for his recently stolen booze.

"Now" I said tossing the empty beer bottle onto his couch "I believe we were talking about something else"

Isiah returned with two beers and tossed me one as he sat back down. "Oh right your wannabe problem"

I twisted the cap and watched the neck of the bottle shattered. this had been a problem since my powers developed. If I wasn't paying attention I used my super strength unnecessarily, and the effects normally weren't pleasant. The last time I snapped into a Slim Jim came to mind. Well actually the last 20 times. eating Slim Jims had become impossible. Damn, I always liked Slim Jims. Isiah glared at me as I returned from my pointless daydream.

"Are you finished?' he asked. My silence was all the recourse he needed to continue.

"This is the way it breaks down ok Jeffery. This person, this impostor, is doing the exact same thing you did when you first started out. He's having his fun and trying to do something good for this city with whatever skills he's acquired. Is that so wrong? Don't answer because you and I both know that's exactly what was going through your mind when you started the vigilante gig."

I sulked for a moment as Isiah once again caught me in a verbal trap. Then, being the clever bastard that I am, I found a way out.

"Ok, so by your logic he is like me. How long before people start to die because of his mistakes. How long before some enemy that's way out of his league comes down and kills him? How long before he has to feel all the pain and loss I have? Am I supposed to sit by idly and let that happen?"

"Yes you are, and you will for the same reasons everyone else in this city lets you run those risks. Heroes are a necessary evil in this town. People like to think otherwise but they know its true. The cops could never stop something the likes of Shadow Wraith, or Venus Mantrap, or hell even your buddy Staticy. Does being a hero cause a great deal of sacrifice. Yes? But do the benefits outweigh the shortcomings? Hell Yes."

I felt all warm and tingly inside at Isaiah's speech. He had truly struck a nerve.

"Wow dude." I said, trying to come out with a quick reply to hide my emotions. "You really know a lot about this hero game don't you?"

"Not at all," he said a wide smile spreading on his face.

"I think all that mumbo-jumbo you just spewed says otherwise."

"No it doesn't because I didn't come up with it." His smile grew wider.

"Then who did?"

"You," he replied with a hint of joy in his voice. "It's what you were thinking the whole time"

We now both wore the same stupid grin and I reached over to shake his hand .

"You really know how to put things in perspective man."

He returned my tight grip and nodded.

***

A week later..

Phew seven days go by fast when you don't have anything better to do then watch cartoons, fight with Alfonse and save the world. Oh man, this is the life. I had still been on a high from Isaiah's pep talk and I'd been acting extra heroic as of late. I had managed to stop an average of four car-jackings, two grocery store hold ups and one murder or rape a night. Hell on Wednesday I'd even gotten a cat down out of a tree. I mean sure nobody asked me too, and it slashed me, and it was ugly, but I still got it down and that was the point.

My impostor had been busy too, and most of his exploits had been documented on local news and radio shows. I was shocked that nobody had managed to figure out that Bush43 was saving lives in two places at once yet. either that or maybe nobody was paying attention to me anymore. I mean it didn't really matter, but it still upset my ego a little bit. Then again at the end of the day I knew who was who. and it wasn't like he was going to show up at the next New Mages meeting right? Because that would just be weird. The cool factor in the room would be overwhelming with two of me around and I doubt Victoria would ever keep her mind on a mission again.

So anyway there I was leaping around from rooftop to rooftop in a chipper mood, and I heard something hit the ground next to me. I looked up and saw nothing but sky. I shrugged it off and went to continue my happy heroics when I heard another noise. Now I was mad. who was trying to screw with me anyway? I looked up and was sorry I asked as Mother Nature spread her legs and took the piss to end all pisses right on the face of yours truly. Rain, and not your everyday average rain, this was like the driving downpour hurricane kind. As the water fell from the sky I began to feel nervous. I'd begun to notice a pattern since I started doing this gig. Rain plus Bush43 equaled really bad shit. The night the Siege Engine caught me it rained. The night I almost had to kill Typhoid Mary it rained. It was like a message from the heavens to stay inside that I seemed forever determined to ignore. Because that was the way I was. headstrong to the very end, no matter what the cost.

The rainwater was definitely not going to make jumping any easier and the blurring of my vision wasn't helping either. Nonetheless I tried to make the jump between the eastern most buildings of the Claudsen apartments. I think I made it about three feet into the air when I realized I was going to fall. The rest of my motions were similar to the master of the pratfall Wile E. Coyote. I flailed and thrashed my arms about and ran in place, attaining no momentum. Then I hung in midair for a split-second, looked down and saw the garbage-ridden alley where I would crash. I had just enough time to blurt out the word "Shit" and then my freefall began. I landed in a dumpster next to some really large blue panties and in a pile of refried beans. The glamorous life of Jeffery Carter. Great now I smelt like a fat woman's crotch and looked like her lunch. Didn't I tell you I don't like rain?

I ascended the nearest fire escape hoping the falling rain would wash off some of the mold-ridden Mexican food. I latched onto the cement ledge that marked the end of the roof and pulled myself up. To my surprise I wasn't alone atop the rain soaked building. I found a figure of about equal height to me trying to ring the water out of his shirt. His clothing looked slightly gray, though it was impossible to tell in the storm. My best guess was that it was the prick known as the Silver Shadow. I had a bone to pick with the Bruce Lee rip off so I marched my ass right over there and grabbed him on the shoulder. He spun around and kicked at my face in some crazy shaolin ninja move, but I immediately threw up my forearms in a cross to block. I silently thanked Alfonse for his training as I dodged a fist to my abdomen and another aimed at my temple. The dude was full of energy because this time he delivered a spin kick which I blocked, but then finished his rotation with a back fist to my chest. That knocked the wind out of me. Alright, this guy obviously knew what he was doing and I wasn't going to win in a battle of martial arts skills. He threw his next punch at my neck but I sidestepped and grabbed his arm pulling him close. I moved to throw him but froze all motion as I caught sight of the face of my attacker. He ceased struggling against my grip as his gaze met mine. We both staggered back seemingly aghast. Despite the rain I could make out the business suit and rubber Halloween mask even at close range. I'd found my impostor.

"Oh crap," he blurted out as he slowly backpedaled. He seemed to be almost shaking and I didn't know if it was from the cold or fear. I hope he didn't think I was going to kick his ass. Well he was going to need to send Isiah a fruit basket because if I hadn't spoken to him that's probably what was going to happen. "Oh man, oh man," he continued to babble as he neared the edge of the roof. His voice was adolescent. This wasn't some big glory-hogging scheme or a nefarious plot by one of my second rate villains after all.. He was just a kid.

"Dude calm down. I'm not going to hurt you"

He halted his frantic retreat.

"You sure?"

I held up both my hands with my fingers spread

"Fingers ain't crossed."

He exhaled deeply and sat down on the drenched tarmac, placing his elbows on top of his knees.

"So what's your name?" I asked him with a straight face. well at least I knew I had on a straight face he couldn't see because of the mask. Well then I guess its not technically a.. that's not the point!

"Anthony."

"What are you 16, 17?"

"16."

"Alright then Anthony, you want to tell me why you've been running around the city dressed up as me?"

"It's just. you're my hero man! And you were gone for a while. I don't know where you went off too but you were gone and my friends were getting mugged and the crime rate was going back up. and I always knew how to defend myself pretty well. So I just decided to fill your shoes while you were gone."

"That's very noble of you Anthony, but now I'm back so you can stop." God I hated sounding so authoritative.

"No I can't." Uh oh, here comes the kicker.

"Why not?

"Because I love doing it. I love helping people and seeing the hope in there eyes when I come down and take away their problems."

I sighed preparing to deliver the mother of all speeches. but then I heard lightning strike nearby. I quickly took inventory. I'm on a tall building, with no lightning rod, in a monsoon type thing.

"Kid, I think we better continue this conversation somewhere else."

Lightning crashed again. without thunder in between them. This wasn't a product of the storm. Something was wrong. I looked all around me for the sourceof the electrical bolts but found nothing. I smelt something acrid in the air, something was smoldering nearby. The lightning stuck again louder and clearer this time. The source was getting closer. I walked to west edge of the building and heard and this time felt the lightning strike. The white-hot blast of light sent me sprawling back to where young Anthony was sitting. The beam had torn the front of my suit up pretty bad and singed the mask. I looked up ready to kick the crap out of whatever had just messed with my threads. I found the frail form of Staticy waiting for me at the other end of the rooftop, huge ellipses of white energy formed around his fists.

"I was hoping to find you tonight." He did his usual maniacal laugh.

"Hey Stacy! What's happening man? Haven't seen you in what two weeks?"

"MY NAME ISN'T STACY!" And with that he fired another lightning bolt that nearly knocked me off the roof. I caught my hand on the ledge, barely clinging to it. I struggled to pull myself up against the howling wind. Staticy's usual menacing glare was gone when I had retaken my position atop the building. Hell his now non-menacing glare wasn't even cast on me; he was looking left. right where I left Anthony.

"There are two of you? What the hell is going on here?"

"Well you see, Stacy, I actually have a clone army. This here is Bush96"

"R...really?"

"Yeah man, oh by the way Aliens exist, Pamela Anderson's a man, and Milli Vanilli wrote their own music."

He scowled and fired another lightning bolt at me that I caught with my collarbone, you'd think I'd get around to dodging one of these days right? I scraped my carcass off the tarmac once again and found Staticy calmly walking towards me spewing the usual villain bullshit. "Today is your last. yadda yadda yadda. I'm going to destroy you. yadda yadda yadda."

Then the cliche‚ was shattered as I saw Anthony charging up behind Staticy, he leapt into the air and delivered a mean looking scissors kick to the back of Staticy's head.

I would have been proud of my protege's courage except that it was going to get him killed. You see Staticy had gotten a hell of a lot stronger as of late, and he seemed to have some kind of electrical field encircling him. Long story short if you touched him you got fried. if you touched him while wet the results could be fatal. As I watched Anthony's body spasm and convulse in pain, I felt rage build up inside me. Staticy smiled as the young boy rived, he fired a small jolt of energy into the boy's spine, dropping him to the tarmac with little effort.

He stood over the fallen teenager and charged up a massive bolt of energy, pointing it straight down at Anthony's head.

"One of you is going to die tonight!" he shrieked, slurring his words slightly.

I forced myself off of the ground and ran towards Staticy. As I moved I felt my brain enter a more primal, almost feral state. I pushed all the jokes and one-line zingers out of my mind and simply focused on hurting Staticy. I tackled him with the force of a pouncing Doberman. The electrical feedback I received hurt like a bitch, but I knew it'd be worth it. The massive bolt that Staticy had charged to kill Anthony with went flying into the night, fading uselessly amongst the stars. We hit the ground hard and skidded along the wet surface, sparks flying off on random tangents. I pinned Staticy down and began to pummel him. With every punch the hair on my knuckles sizzled and crackled, and after the fourth blow they had probably completely burnt off, but I didn't care. I cursed myself for enjoying watching Staticy's nose break but he deserved every cut and bruise he was getting. My arms worked like pistons, hammering Staticy. Left, Right, Left, Right, with clockwork efficiency. When I had finished he was left wearing a tribute to an ass kicking on his face. His left eye was beginning to swell, his nose looked like a collapsed building and his face had splotches of thin blood running all over. I left the barely conscious villain in a pool of crimson and rainfall as I ran off to tend to Anthony.

I found the boy where I'd left him, thankfully not dead, bleeding, or visibly wounded. He wasn't going to need medical attention.

"Kid you alright?" I said frantically.

"I... I almost died," he said in complete shock.

"Yeah, you almost did. That's part of the job."

"Has that ever happened to you?" he asked with pure innocence flowing from his eyes.

"Yeah, kid, more than I can count on one hand."

"I... I don't want to die," he said as his lower lip trembled.

I glanced over my shoulder to see a charred crimson outline of where I'd left Staticy. The little bastard had gotten more adept at escaping. Sure the coast was clear, I took of my mask allowing him to look upon the true face of his hero, and then I raised him to a sitting position.

"Kid, look at me and look at you. If I die nobody's going to miss me, I've made my choices and I stand where I stand. You, your only sixteen, you've got your whole life ahead of you. You want to help people, be a doctor, a lawyer, a fireman, a cop, be something productive in this world that doesn't involve fighting lunatics like that every night. You don't want to wake up every morning, stare at the sunrise and wonder if it's your last do you? You're way too young for that. Here I go preaching again. Listen man, you've got to make your own decisions, but just promise me you'll take into account what I said?"

He stared at me searching for an answer that we both knew I couldn't give. I looked back to where Staticy had been laying but he was nowhere to be seen. He must've slipped off while I was comforting Anthony. In the distance I heard sirens, he must've too and we simultaneously leapt up.

"Time to part ways kid."

"Guess so."

"Make the right choice," I said extending my hand.

"I will," he replied receiving it.

As I ran to leap off the rooftop I glanced back to see Anthony mirroring my movements. A part of me regretted letting him go as I jumped off, but I refused to see another innocent person die at the hands of some stupid menace in a costume. I just hoped he felt the same way.

***

Anthony Zaccheo walked to school a different way the next morning. He had more important objectives than meeting his friends and grabbing a bagel before class started. He had taken the right on Amber Street instead of Gifford because of what lay in the red duffel bag at his side. As he strode along beside dormant streetlights and empty front yards he thought about the last words spoken to him the previous night. As he approached the backside of the Martins fish market he was confident that he had made the right choice. He unzipped the bag and stared at its contents for a moment.

He looked into the blank eye-sockets of the Halloween mask and whispered.

"It was fun while it lasted. but he's right. I'm going to be a doctor, a lawyer, or a fireman. I'm just going to be me. Goodbye."

Then he tossed the mask, bag and all, into the yawning dumpster. As the garbage swallowed up the mask a possible future died with it. But a better one was born.