Now You’re Playing with SUPER Power!!! [Zeni]
Oct 26, 2017 8:15:39 GMT
Bing Gan, Capper Hofferson, and 1 more like this
Post by Vi-Poi on Oct 26, 2017 8:15:39 GMT
Vi-Poi wasn’t sure what to do next. Since leaving Bing and the others on the Lookout he became directionless. West City concrete was under his feet again, and he’d wandered from street to street without aim, letting whim guide him. What happened on Vegeta changed everything. It had made him see things in a different light. If his own friends didn’t have absolute trust in him, how could he hope that the people of Earth would? He had many fans and supporters, it was true. But he had a lot of haters too, people who thought he was the root of every problem. A person’s history was a complex tableau that different people could take different things from. If there was ever another ambiguous situation like that, and the fate of the Earth – or worse -- hung in the balance, he could get screwed over just from that.
He sighed, taking stock of his surroundings.
This was where I first landed, right after leaving my bunker.
The thought sent tingles down his spine, and he felt gooseflesh rising on the back of his neck. He looked down the block, and immediately recognized the pearly office tower. It was the bank he robbed on his first day alive. Robbed it accidentally, sort of. He’d been such a nerd back then! The workaday rush hustled in and out of the building in busy lanes. A budding sense of nostalgia, and some nagging sense of guilt drew him towards the bank.
I’m going to go in there, and say sorry. He decided, transfixed on the sight of the glassy double doors growing in his vision. I could even cut them a check for how much I took!
Lost in thoughts, eyes fixed on the looming bank, he accidentally bumped into a man in a business suit. A nudge of his shoulder sent the man sprawling. “Will you watch where you’re g-“ The words died on his tongue. “Oh my, It’s Virtual Poi!” He squealed, face turning red as he sprung to his feet excitedly. “Look everyone, it’s the Premier!”
Cellphones were raised, and Vi-Poi was bathed in flickering white lights.
“Vi-Poi! Vi-Poi!” The shouts of recognition reverberated down the street.
Vi-Poi tensed, caught off-guard by the sudden and unexpected wave of notoriety. It was happening more and more lately, and with an increasing frequency. If it got much worse, he’d have to start wearing disguises or something.
“I loved you in the Serpent Master movie!” Someone from the rapidly gathering crowd. “Are you going to do another one?”
A well of silence grew over the crowd as they all waited for a response in unison.
Vi-Poi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh… maybe,” He grinned nervously.
The yammering came back full force. A flood of pens and markers, receipts, newspapers, hats, ties, anything that he could sign. Vi-Poi swooshed through them as quickly as he could, eventually splitting himself into fourteen different Multi-Forms to handle the crunch.
Shallotnagger is so much better at this than me! Vi-Poi thought as he scrabbled the pin. Sweat beaded on his pale brow.
Through a calculated series of leapfrogging Multi-Forms, VI-Poi finally blended back into his full self, only to find the hem of his New Yolk City shirt in the clutches of a rather insane-looking superfan that was wearing one of those bootleg Vi-Poi wigs you could find on every cheapy Saiya-Town on the planet.
How did he get here so fast?! Man, these superfans are obsessed!
“C’mon man, you’re stretching my new shirt out,” Vi-Poi complained.
The superfan’s eyes widened hysterically, and a wordless scream blasted from his throat.
“I really have to go!” Vi-Poi squealed to the sweaty/paunchy middle-aged man dressed like a teenage android before sprinting away, legs pumping high as he ran.
“Vi-SAMA I LOVE YOUUUU!” The man yelled as Vi-Poi fled, tears streaming into his scraggly beard.
Vi-Poi’s eyes bulged and he clenched is teeth, running faster.
Forget the bank! I’ll mail them a check or something.
He swerved down an alleyway, sneakers squeaking, then vaulted over a fence. He flittered through laneways and old tabbycat paths until he was sure that no one was behind him, until he was lost all over again. His nervousness was being swiftly replaced by chortles and then gales of laughter. Vi-sama? What a freak!
Before he could get ahold of himself, the ground let go of him. Went out from under him, more like it. One minute he was pumping down an alleyway, and the next he was tumbling down an open grate into darkness. His reflexes were spry enough to where he could have easily shot back into the air, but a morbid curiosity continued his fall.
Just wait until the Department of Urban Safety hears about this, He thought as he glumly rattled down a metal chute… and sprawled sideways out into a very familiar bunker.
Hoisting up to his feet, Vi-Poi glared around. “Not again,” He groaned, taking stock of the ancient bunker. I had BBA pave over the grate Poi fell through back then… Must be more than one vent.
The giant old mainframe was there, wreathed in cobwebs as thick as silly string. His old home. His manger. The capsule where Poi had died was gone. He’d ordered all of them removed. He could still see the footprints of the workers from a year or more ago in the thick dust. Poi’s bones were now buried in the Toques family plot, in West City’s Sunset Cemetery. Vi-Poi had attended the burial.
Putting hands in his pockets, Vi-Poi smiled up at the cracked old viewscreen. “Hey old buddy,” He said softly. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
Something crinkled under his foot. He blinked, peering down. A rumpled Captain Nova comic book, issue number 134. It must have been left behind by one of the BBA workers. Vi-Poi bent down and grabbed the comic, wiping the dust off of Captain Nova’s grinning face. He had some nameless crook in a headlock, and a pile of other bandits were piled high behind him. Cheerful and bubbly text sprang from the page, letting everyone know that Captain Nova Takes Out the Trash in special Satan City issue!
Vi-Poi snorted, wondering how many of these Nicolas bought and read. There were so many, it’d probably hard to read them all. Then, a thought struck him like a million volts.
“That’s it!” He yelled, giving a loud woop.
“I could be Robo Boy,” He muttered to himself, ignoring the strange looks he was getting as he quickly flipped from page to page, gleaning concepts from the zesty illustrations. “No, no, that’s way too obvious,” He cupped his chin. “Maybe an animal theme. Bird Man? No, no. Too generic. Ugh, how did Nico come up with such a good name?”
A flickering McBao’s sign caught his attention, the golden curves of the staggered M and the big B illuminating his path. His jaw slowly dropped in wonder. “Maybe… maybe Bao.” It all clicked together. An extraordinary feeling took ahold of him, a sense of everything inside him going into sudden joyous motion. Bao was the very first person that Vi-Poi idolized and emulated. He was a world-renown beloved figure, and his mysterious disappearance had only bolstered that love. He was the most popular politician in history, risen from obscurity, and Bao probably would have gone on winning elections forever if he hadn’t accidentally put a stop to them. If he came back from wherever he went – Heaven, maybe? – he’d destroy Vi-Poi in any election. Even Captain Nova might win one, just on popular acclaim, but Vi-Poi understood that for him and probably anyone else, the realities of the job would quickly weight upon him. Only Bao had been unaffected. He had a simple can-do attitude that seemed to somehow disrupt the most trying circumstances. Even Vi-Poi’s takeover of Earth hadn’t dislodged Bao from power.
Bao brought out the best in each and every one. He was a symbol of pure, blustery goodness. If Vi-Poi could present himself like that, he could really inspire people.
Vi-Poi connected to the web. He would come up with some kind of Bao identity. But he couldn’t just throw on a cape and become a superhero. He had to do it right. He briefly considered reaching out to Nicolas, but the thought kinda embarrassed him. He would definitely be a super-zero in Captain Nova’s eyes. He didn’t have any hero panache or catchphrases, nothing. Sure he could fight, but that was only half the battle. Every real hero had style.
He dug through internet forums and terabytes worth of superhero info until he came up with a plan.
Ordering a hoverbus ticket, he made his way to the depot.
Vi-Poi’s hoverbus ticket parked him next to an out-of-work mattress salesman who used to sell the Nitey-Nite mattresses until Baopedic mattresses ran him out of business. “That Baopedic stuff, it’s a conspiwacy I tells ya,” The rotund mattress salesmen said, looking at Vi-Poi with his bulgy, widespread eyes. They were like cow eyes. It was unsettling, to say the least. “A conspiwacy.”
Vi-Poi rubbed at the bridge of his nose, turning away from the man’s rancid breath. Judging from the stench, he needed a dental overhaul twenty years ago. Why did I pick the bus? I should have just flown over! But that felt wrong. It didn’t have the same spiritual kinda vibe that he figured he’d have on the hoverbus. So far though, the only epiphany Vi-Poi’d had was that the bus majorly sucked. Something would have to be done about seat space regulations, too. The gap between him and the stinky, frumpy guy next to him was razor-thin.
“How’s it a conspiracy?” Vi-Poi asked, turning his head to press his brow against the cool glass of the window, trying to smush the smell out of his nose, watching the languid countryside blur by. “They just sold a better mattress than you.” With his right hand, he shoved his fanny pack into the space between them, hoping it’d provide some sort of barrier.
“How?” The cow-eyed man asked, leaning forward and encroaching even more into Vi-Poi’s personal space. “That Baopedic is made of gummit foam! Gummit foam, know what this is?”
Vi-Poi rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“It’s foam made by dah gummit!” The man exclaimed, spit spraying everywhere. “Dats space foam they got in dere beds!”
Space foam. Vi-Poi vaguely remembered agreeing to sell Space Agency technology to third party bidders to raise money for the Science Corps. Spaceship seats were probably part of that deal.
He frowned. “Did you ever apply for financial relief?” Blue Banner Army had extensive funding programs for the out-of-work and the needy.
“Gummit handouts?” The man guffawed, laughing. “I ain’t takin nonna them! Dats how they get you in dere systum."
Vi-Poi rolled his eyes again, then pulled his hood over his head. “I’m going to take a nap,” He lied.
But the lie wound up true. He was tired. One of the new consequences of his fusion with Poi. Every now and then, he needed sleep.
A clap on his shoulder startled him awake. “Hey buddy, gettup. We here.”
Vi-Poi rubbed at his eyes and glanced over. It was the mattress-salesman. “Already?” The glassy and steel complex of Ginger Town’s bus depot greeted him.
The mattress-salesman snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you was out like a light.”
He switched buses in Ginger Town. His next one was sans hover, and snored along a winding old roadway with a gust of grease pluming from the tailpipe. This one wasn’t half so crowded, and Vi-Poi was able to stretch his legs out. He could have been where he was going hours ago, but he was starting to feel the deliberateness he’d expected. The anticipation.
There was a feeling growing inside of him. A quiet sense of rightness. Out the window, idyllic farmland gave way to thick forests.
The feeling was thrumming through him after his bus ride was over and he walked through the faded wooden archway of Plum Town Campground. There was the small nylon tent his spy satellite had gleaned. He quelled a swell of nervousness.
This is what I’m supposed to be doing.
He approached the tent, uncertain of what to do. There was only a zippered flap. It’s not like he could knock.
“Hello?” Vi-Poi asked uncertainly.
A silhouette moved behind the sage-green nylon, and the zipper frwaped open with a snap. “Who are ya?” A voice asked in the darkness. “You can tell that no-good park ranger, I got a season pass for this tent!”
“My name is Vi-Poi,” he said, “I sent you the email. I’m here to train.”
Like the head of a turtle emerging from its shell, a shriveled face poked out from the tent. Big, drooping mustaches sagged and billowed around a frail neck. Rheumy eyes squinted at him from behind oversized glasses. “The Premier? It's an honor, but I'm gonna call you boy from here on out, to set the tone. I got your message,” He murmured, light glinting off the lenses, obscuring his expression. “So… you come to learn what it means to be a superhero from the oldest living superhero?”
Vi-Poi nodded.
In a tremendous woosh of dust, the tent suddenly shot off the ground, twirling about in the air like an oversized kite. The old man stood in full costume, his mechanized tentacles whirling about his body like dark question marks. “I’ve been waiting on you!” He exclaimed excitedly, fists bunched up near his face in an explosion of glee. “Your Bao superhero idea, right? Thought you’d fly over. Take the bus?”
Vi-Poi grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry.”
Squid Lee waved the apology away. “Bao! It’s not a bad idea! There’s something about Bao that’s very super already.” He hmmed, stroking his mustaches. “Do you have rights to use the name Bao? Last I read in the Plum Town Gazebo-Gazer, its commercial and public use was the trademark of the Bao Advertising and Marketing Corporation.”
Vi-Poi winced. “You think I’d get sued for using his name?”
Squid Lee mmed. “Believe me, boy. The world of superheroes is one of litigious lawyers and licensing infringement.”
Vi-Poi sighed.
“Well, don’t let it bother you. We’ll find a new, better name. We'll seed a good backstory for you onto the internet and then...” Squid Lee struck a pose, his tentacles spread out like the points of a star. “You’ll learn from ol’ Squid Lee here what it means to be a HERO!”
A Month or Two Later…
(Following lawsuit threats by lawyers of the Bao Advertising and Marketing Corporation…)
Smoke flooded the street of Plum Town, exploding out the glassy gates of Plum Town Credit Union. The bank’s alarm system wailed. A group of robbers scurried out, their leader outfitted with an Imperial Saiyan hand-cannon.
“Let’s scram before the cops show!” The gang leader growled, spraying the busy street with a wave of chi energy that, through no fault of his own, managed to harm no one.
The citizens of Plum Town panicked, rushing frantically away from the onslaught.
Until…
“Look, up in the sky!”
A small speck appeared in the bright blue sky.
“Is that a bird?”
The speck broadened.
“Is that a plane?”
The speck grew into the shadowy silhouette of a person.
“Is that a guy…
...or maybe a girl?”
A caped crusader landed on the street with a thud his polka dot cape rioting behind him.
The costumed arrival spread his fingers out in front of his rosy red visor. “Everyone’s just gotta B-Cool! Like me! B-Cool.” He struck a pose, arms curled into each other in a sloppy “B” shape before he floated lightly into the air. “My name… is B-Cool,” He announced proudly.
“Still confused.”
The gang-leader growled, “Another Nova wannabee!” before unloading on B-Cool.
His discs of chi bounced harmlessly off the golden B on B-Cool’s chest. The pedestrians in the street oooed and ahhhed at this new superhero’s seeming invincibility. The gang-leader’s jaw dropped, and his eyes bulged.
B-Cool beamed pleasantly. He raised a finger and addressed the Plum Town crowd. “I am legally obligated to mention at this time that I am in no way, shape, or form associated with Bao or any Bao-related trademark, and that our stylistic similarities are purely coincidental.” He said the last words carefully and with special emphasis.
“So are you a chick, or what?”
Ignoring the question, B-Cool sprang into action, moving faster than sight.
A cloud of dust, and suddenly the robbers were neatly lined in a row against the wall of the bank, tied with a heavy chain.
“Whoooooooaaaaaa!" The crowd gasped in unison.
“How’d you do that?” One man demanded. “You one of those ki-using freaks, or somethin?”
“HAH HAH HAHHH!” B-Cool laughed, putting his fists on his hips. “I did that with the power of COOLNESS.”
“So what?” Another asked. “You some kinda ice man?”
B-Cool rubbed the back of his neck. “No, like uh. You know. Being cool. Like, being good.”
“Ohhh. I don’t get it. But okay.”
Police sirens grew in the distance.
“That’s my cue…” B-Cool said flying over the crowd. “Just know, citizens of Plum Town -- you just gotta be cool to each other!” He lit across the sky like a shooting star, and was gone.
He sighed, taking stock of his surroundings.
This was where I first landed, right after leaving my bunker.
The thought sent tingles down his spine, and he felt gooseflesh rising on the back of his neck. He looked down the block, and immediately recognized the pearly office tower. It was the bank he robbed on his first day alive. Robbed it accidentally, sort of. He’d been such a nerd back then! The workaday rush hustled in and out of the building in busy lanes. A budding sense of nostalgia, and some nagging sense of guilt drew him towards the bank.
I’m going to go in there, and say sorry. He decided, transfixed on the sight of the glassy double doors growing in his vision. I could even cut them a check for how much I took!
Lost in thoughts, eyes fixed on the looming bank, he accidentally bumped into a man in a business suit. A nudge of his shoulder sent the man sprawling. “Will you watch where you’re g-“ The words died on his tongue. “Oh my, It’s Virtual Poi!” He squealed, face turning red as he sprung to his feet excitedly. “Look everyone, it’s the Premier!”
Cellphones were raised, and Vi-Poi was bathed in flickering white lights.
“Vi-Poi! Vi-Poi!” The shouts of recognition reverberated down the street.
Vi-Poi tensed, caught off-guard by the sudden and unexpected wave of notoriety. It was happening more and more lately, and with an increasing frequency. If it got much worse, he’d have to start wearing disguises or something.
“I loved you in the Serpent Master movie!” Someone from the rapidly gathering crowd. “Are you going to do another one?”
A well of silence grew over the crowd as they all waited for a response in unison.
Vi-Poi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh… maybe,” He grinned nervously.
The yammering came back full force. A flood of pens and markers, receipts, newspapers, hats, ties, anything that he could sign. Vi-Poi swooshed through them as quickly as he could, eventually splitting himself into fourteen different Multi-Forms to handle the crunch.
Shallotnagger is so much better at this than me! Vi-Poi thought as he scrabbled the pin. Sweat beaded on his pale brow.
Through a calculated series of leapfrogging Multi-Forms, VI-Poi finally blended back into his full self, only to find the hem of his New Yolk City shirt in the clutches of a rather insane-looking superfan that was wearing one of those bootleg Vi-Poi wigs you could find on every cheapy Saiya-Town on the planet.
How did he get here so fast?! Man, these superfans are obsessed!
“C’mon man, you’re stretching my new shirt out,” Vi-Poi complained.
The superfan’s eyes widened hysterically, and a wordless scream blasted from his throat.
“I really have to go!” Vi-Poi squealed to the sweaty/paunchy middle-aged man dressed like a teenage android before sprinting away, legs pumping high as he ran.
“Vi-SAMA I LOVE YOUUUU!” The man yelled as Vi-Poi fled, tears streaming into his scraggly beard.
Vi-Poi’s eyes bulged and he clenched is teeth, running faster.
Forget the bank! I’ll mail them a check or something.
He swerved down an alleyway, sneakers squeaking, then vaulted over a fence. He flittered through laneways and old tabbycat paths until he was sure that no one was behind him, until he was lost all over again. His nervousness was being swiftly replaced by chortles and then gales of laughter. Vi-sama? What a freak!
Before he could get ahold of himself, the ground let go of him. Went out from under him, more like it. One minute he was pumping down an alleyway, and the next he was tumbling down an open grate into darkness. His reflexes were spry enough to where he could have easily shot back into the air, but a morbid curiosity continued his fall.
Just wait until the Department of Urban Safety hears about this, He thought as he glumly rattled down a metal chute… and sprawled sideways out into a very familiar bunker.
Hoisting up to his feet, Vi-Poi glared around. “Not again,” He groaned, taking stock of the ancient bunker. I had BBA pave over the grate Poi fell through back then… Must be more than one vent.
The giant old mainframe was there, wreathed in cobwebs as thick as silly string. His old home. His manger. The capsule where Poi had died was gone. He’d ordered all of them removed. He could still see the footprints of the workers from a year or more ago in the thick dust. Poi’s bones were now buried in the Toques family plot, in West City’s Sunset Cemetery. Vi-Poi had attended the burial.
Putting hands in his pockets, Vi-Poi smiled up at the cracked old viewscreen. “Hey old buddy,” He said softly. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
Something crinkled under his foot. He blinked, peering down. A rumpled Captain Nova comic book, issue number 134. It must have been left behind by one of the BBA workers. Vi-Poi bent down and grabbed the comic, wiping the dust off of Captain Nova’s grinning face. He had some nameless crook in a headlock, and a pile of other bandits were piled high behind him. Cheerful and bubbly text sprang from the page, letting everyone know that Captain Nova Takes Out the Trash in special Satan City issue!
Vi-Poi snorted, wondering how many of these Nicolas bought and read. There were so many, it’d probably hard to read them all. Then, a thought struck him like a million volts.
“That’s it!” He yelled, giving a loud woop.
d[ o_0 ]b
Vi-Poi hurried along the West City avenue. The crowds had dispersed, and he was once again an anonymous blue-haired teenager with his face shoved into a comic book. “I could be Robo Boy,” He muttered to himself, ignoring the strange looks he was getting as he quickly flipped from page to page, gleaning concepts from the zesty illustrations. “No, no, that’s way too obvious,” He cupped his chin. “Maybe an animal theme. Bird Man? No, no. Too generic. Ugh, how did Nico come up with such a good name?”
A flickering McBao’s sign caught his attention, the golden curves of the staggered M and the big B illuminating his path. His jaw slowly dropped in wonder. “Maybe… maybe Bao.” It all clicked together. An extraordinary feeling took ahold of him, a sense of everything inside him going into sudden joyous motion. Bao was the very first person that Vi-Poi idolized and emulated. He was a world-renown beloved figure, and his mysterious disappearance had only bolstered that love. He was the most popular politician in history, risen from obscurity, and Bao probably would have gone on winning elections forever if he hadn’t accidentally put a stop to them. If he came back from wherever he went – Heaven, maybe? – he’d destroy Vi-Poi in any election. Even Captain Nova might win one, just on popular acclaim, but Vi-Poi understood that for him and probably anyone else, the realities of the job would quickly weight upon him. Only Bao had been unaffected. He had a simple can-do attitude that seemed to somehow disrupt the most trying circumstances. Even Vi-Poi’s takeover of Earth hadn’t dislodged Bao from power.
Bao brought out the best in each and every one. He was a symbol of pure, blustery goodness. If Vi-Poi could present himself like that, he could really inspire people.
Vi-Poi connected to the web. He would come up with some kind of Bao identity. But he couldn’t just throw on a cape and become a superhero. He had to do it right. He briefly considered reaching out to Nicolas, but the thought kinda embarrassed him. He would definitely be a super-zero in Captain Nova’s eyes. He didn’t have any hero panache or catchphrases, nothing. Sure he could fight, but that was only half the battle. Every real hero had style.
He dug through internet forums and terabytes worth of superhero info until he came up with a plan.
Ordering a hoverbus ticket, he made his way to the depot.
Vi-Poi’s hoverbus ticket parked him next to an out-of-work mattress salesman who used to sell the Nitey-Nite mattresses until Baopedic mattresses ran him out of business. “That Baopedic stuff, it’s a conspiwacy I tells ya,” The rotund mattress salesmen said, looking at Vi-Poi with his bulgy, widespread eyes. They were like cow eyes. It was unsettling, to say the least. “A conspiwacy.”
Vi-Poi rubbed at the bridge of his nose, turning away from the man’s rancid breath. Judging from the stench, he needed a dental overhaul twenty years ago. Why did I pick the bus? I should have just flown over! But that felt wrong. It didn’t have the same spiritual kinda vibe that he figured he’d have on the hoverbus. So far though, the only epiphany Vi-Poi’d had was that the bus majorly sucked. Something would have to be done about seat space regulations, too. The gap between him and the stinky, frumpy guy next to him was razor-thin.
“How’s it a conspiracy?” Vi-Poi asked, turning his head to press his brow against the cool glass of the window, trying to smush the smell out of his nose, watching the languid countryside blur by. “They just sold a better mattress than you.” With his right hand, he shoved his fanny pack into the space between them, hoping it’d provide some sort of barrier.
“How?” The cow-eyed man asked, leaning forward and encroaching even more into Vi-Poi’s personal space. “That Baopedic is made of gummit foam! Gummit foam, know what this is?”
Vi-Poi rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“It’s foam made by dah gummit!” The man exclaimed, spit spraying everywhere. “Dats space foam they got in dere beds!”
Space foam. Vi-Poi vaguely remembered agreeing to sell Space Agency technology to third party bidders to raise money for the Science Corps. Spaceship seats were probably part of that deal.
He frowned. “Did you ever apply for financial relief?” Blue Banner Army had extensive funding programs for the out-of-work and the needy.
“Gummit handouts?” The man guffawed, laughing. “I ain’t takin nonna them! Dats how they get you in dere systum."
Vi-Poi rolled his eyes again, then pulled his hood over his head. “I’m going to take a nap,” He lied.
But the lie wound up true. He was tired. One of the new consequences of his fusion with Poi. Every now and then, he needed sleep.
A clap on his shoulder startled him awake. “Hey buddy, gettup. We here.”
Vi-Poi rubbed at his eyes and glanced over. It was the mattress-salesman. “Already?” The glassy and steel complex of Ginger Town’s bus depot greeted him.
The mattress-salesman snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you was out like a light.”
He switched buses in Ginger Town. His next one was sans hover, and snored along a winding old roadway with a gust of grease pluming from the tailpipe. This one wasn’t half so crowded, and Vi-Poi was able to stretch his legs out. He could have been where he was going hours ago, but he was starting to feel the deliberateness he’d expected. The anticipation.
There was a feeling growing inside of him. A quiet sense of rightness. Out the window, idyllic farmland gave way to thick forests.
The feeling was thrumming through him after his bus ride was over and he walked through the faded wooden archway of Plum Town Campground. There was the small nylon tent his spy satellite had gleaned. He quelled a swell of nervousness.
This is what I’m supposed to be doing.
He approached the tent, uncertain of what to do. There was only a zippered flap. It’s not like he could knock.
“Hello?” Vi-Poi asked uncertainly.
A silhouette moved behind the sage-green nylon, and the zipper frwaped open with a snap. “Who are ya?” A voice asked in the darkness. “You can tell that no-good park ranger, I got a season pass for this tent!”
“My name is Vi-Poi,” he said, “I sent you the email. I’m here to train.”
Like the head of a turtle emerging from its shell, a shriveled face poked out from the tent. Big, drooping mustaches sagged and billowed around a frail neck. Rheumy eyes squinted at him from behind oversized glasses. “The Premier? It's an honor, but I'm gonna call you boy from here on out, to set the tone. I got your message,” He murmured, light glinting off the lenses, obscuring his expression. “So… you come to learn what it means to be a superhero from the oldest living superhero?”
Vi-Poi nodded.
In a tremendous woosh of dust, the tent suddenly shot off the ground, twirling about in the air like an oversized kite. The old man stood in full costume, his mechanized tentacles whirling about his body like dark question marks. “I’ve been waiting on you!” He exclaimed excitedly, fists bunched up near his face in an explosion of glee. “Your Bao superhero idea, right? Thought you’d fly over. Take the bus?”
Vi-Poi grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry.”
Squid Lee waved the apology away. “Bao! It’s not a bad idea! There’s something about Bao that’s very super already.” He hmmed, stroking his mustaches. “Do you have rights to use the name Bao? Last I read in the Plum Town Gazebo-Gazer, its commercial and public use was the trademark of the Bao Advertising and Marketing Corporation.”
Vi-Poi winced. “You think I’d get sued for using his name?”
Squid Lee mmed. “Believe me, boy. The world of superheroes is one of litigious lawyers and licensing infringement.”
Vi-Poi sighed.
“Well, don’t let it bother you. We’ll find a new, better name. We'll seed a good backstory for you onto the internet and then...” Squid Lee struck a pose, his tentacles spread out like the points of a star. “You’ll learn from ol’ Squid Lee here what it means to be a HERO!”
A Month or Two Later…
(Following lawsuit threats by lawyers of the Bao Advertising and Marketing Corporation…)
Smoke flooded the street of Plum Town, exploding out the glassy gates of Plum Town Credit Union. The bank’s alarm system wailed. A group of robbers scurried out, their leader outfitted with an Imperial Saiyan hand-cannon.
“Let’s scram before the cops show!” The gang leader growled, spraying the busy street with a wave of chi energy that, through no fault of his own, managed to harm no one.
The citizens of Plum Town panicked, rushing frantically away from the onslaught.
Until…
“Look, up in the sky!”
A small speck appeared in the bright blue sky.
“Is that a bird?”
The speck broadened.
“Is that a plane?”
The speck grew into the shadowy silhouette of a person.
“Is that a guy…
...or maybe a girl?”
A caped crusader landed on the street with a thud his polka dot cape rioting behind him.
The costumed arrival spread his fingers out in front of his rosy red visor. “Everyone’s just gotta B-Cool! Like me! B-Cool.” He struck a pose, arms curled into each other in a sloppy “B” shape before he floated lightly into the air. “My name… is B-Cool,” He announced proudly.
“Still confused.”
The gang-leader growled, “Another Nova wannabee!” before unloading on B-Cool.
His discs of chi bounced harmlessly off the golden B on B-Cool’s chest. The pedestrians in the street oooed and ahhhed at this new superhero’s seeming invincibility. The gang-leader’s jaw dropped, and his eyes bulged.
B-Cool beamed pleasantly. He raised a finger and addressed the Plum Town crowd. “I am legally obligated to mention at this time that I am in no way, shape, or form associated with Bao or any Bao-related trademark, and that our stylistic similarities are purely coincidental.” He said the last words carefully and with special emphasis.
“So are you a chick, or what?”
Ignoring the question, B-Cool sprang into action, moving faster than sight.
A cloud of dust, and suddenly the robbers were neatly lined in a row against the wall of the bank, tied with a heavy chain.
“Whoooooooaaaaaa!" The crowd gasped in unison.
“How’d you do that?” One man demanded. “You one of those ki-using freaks, or somethin?”
“HAH HAH HAHHH!” B-Cool laughed, putting his fists on his hips. “I did that with the power of COOLNESS.”
“So what?” Another asked. “You some kinda ice man?”
B-Cool rubbed the back of his neck. “No, like uh. You know. Being cool. Like, being good.”
“Ohhh. I don’t get it. But okay.”
Police sirens grew in the distance.
“That’s my cue…” B-Cool said flying over the crowd. “Just know, citizens of Plum Town -- you just gotta be cool to each other!” He lit across the sky like a shooting star, and was gone.
