Righteous Lad
#2

"So, would you like to tell me what all of that was about?" At his leisure, Righteous Lad flies over the city. Far above enough to where the pedestrians below look almost like ants.

 

"What? No! I've got nothing to say to you!" The criminal the hero was securely holding by the armpits responds.

 

"No? You were willing to take a handful of lives back there... You sure there isn't anything you want to tell me?" Tyson presses calmly.

 

"Nope. My lips? Are sealed. And that's that."

 

"Huh, alright. Then tell me a bit about yourself."

 

"What could I possibly tell you, dude? You want me to tell you about my upbringing or something? You're not pulling one over on me." The stubborn criminal responds.

 

"No tricks. I just want to know a bit about you. Got a name?"

 

"Pffft! Like I'd just help you I.D. me."

 

"Well, where we're going, it's going to happen either way. The station will certainly figure out who you are. But if you're really so against telling me your real name, how about an alias?" Righteous Lad suggests.

 

"An alias? Well, I guess go by 45 when I'm on the job."

 

"Forty-five?"

 

"Yeah. Like, foot soldier #45." The masked man answers.

 

"I see... Seems a bit odd. That guy, the one with the French accent, implied that he isn't too fond of individualists. Are you really comfortable being a number in someone else's ideology? Giving up who you are for the sake of someone else?"

 

"Well, when you put it that way, that does sound pretty awful. But you know, he did make some good points. He told me I didn't have to spend my life slaving away at a job that means absolutely nothing in the long-term, and that I deserve better than the fat cats who sit at the top, raking in the benefits of the hard work people like me put up with." #45 answers.

 

"That's... A rather flawed way of looking at things. Sounds like that guy has an unhealthy, counterproductive, and spiteful view of the world. May I ask what was your previous job?"

 

"An employee at McTowners. Helped with cooking mostly."

 

"Ah, I see. Did you hate working there?"

 

"Hate? Ehh... Not really. It seemed alright for a while, but after meeting Pierre, I was able to see it for what it truly was."

 

"Interesting." Is all Righteous Lad says before he begins descending, eventually placing #45 down onto his feet atop of the roof of a tall building. The act draws confusion over the foot soldier's face.

 

"Hey, what gives? You're not gonna' leave me up here, are you?"

 

"No, of course not. Just thought we'd stop here and talk a bit more. You hungry by any chance?" Righteous Lad asks. In turn, he receives a skeptical frown from the other.

Some times passes. More or less twenty minutes or so, and the two are now sitting side by side on the ledge of the roof while having lunch together.

 

"Mmmph... Mmm! Oh man, this is like--" Righteous Lad takes his first bite of his burger and is left fumbling over his words at what could only really be described as a radical raid on his taste buds. 

"Like...! I don't know, it's just unbelievably good!"

 

"Right!? I told ya, dude. The crispy Spicy-sweet jerk chicken sandwich is totally legit! It's pretty much the best chicken sandwich in the US. Maybe even the whole freakin' world!" #45 Boasts with absolute confidence before he begins taking a crunchy bite out of his own burger. The two sit in a moment of brief silence to savor their meal. Several bites and nearly an entire minute later, the foot soldier speaks up again.

"So, uhm... Righteous Lad?"

 

"Yeah, man?" The hero answers just as he finishes swallowing down another bite.

 

"I know I was sorta' giving you a hard time before, but I am genuinely curious on your take on this whole worker's fair treatment thing. You don't think Pierre had a good point or two at all?"

 

"I think. . . I can see where he may be coming from a bit. I'm sure it's not encouraging at all to believe that everything you do goes unacknowledged or that your job isn't enjoyable at all. It's totally understandable to want more out of life, though. That's the fire of ambition that tries its best to provoke us into chasing something bigger and better." Righteous Lad responds, then takes a pause to take a swig from the straw of his medium drink.

 

"Huh... Yeah, that makes sense. I could see that." #45 comments as he digests the food-for-thought.

 

"And that's the thing! The big catch that a lot of people seem to overlook and pretend isn't a big contributing factor. The fortitude of ambition. It's easy for anyone to say that they deserve the finest in life, but it's... Dude, it's so devastatingly sad how many people don't have the drive to push themselves to go for it." The hero goes onto explain with sadness lacing his words - the same sadness he looks toward #45 with.

Then he continues.

"Of course, that's not to say that everyone in life can share the same luck. You know what I mean? If we could all win the lottery, then it wouldn't have the weight and gravitation it has on people now."

 

"But, don't you think it could be nice to get rid of it? You know, luck based things in life. Everyone starts in the same place, has the same resources, and is able to go through the same legitimate system to get somewhere better in life if they want something more." #45 proposals.

 

"It sounds nice, but like what I mentioned with the lottery, that would devalue what it means to be successful. Sure, it sounds groovy and I don't want anyone to struggle, but... Living in a world like how you're describing would actually mean setting the bar three times as high and making it difficult for every milestone someone reaches to mean something significant. On top of that, there's no definite way to control free will. To control the preferences of the common civilian. Even if starting a business becomes 200% easier, there's still the matter of competition of services. Some people would still fail due to preferences."

 

"Oh... Hm. I think... I think I see what you're getting at now. Everyone can't be winners."

 

"That is the truth of the world, I feel. But that doesn't mean the little guys, the employees, aren't important. They matter very much. They're the ones who help businesses flow and continue on, after all. Fry cooks, cashiers, stockers. I appreciate them all and what they do." Righteous Lad assures before finally taking another bite out of his sandwich.

 

"You know, that's pretty nice to hear from someone like you! Sort of thought those were kind of low grade jobs that losers get stuck with."

 

"Hey, a working civilian is an admirable civilian in my opinion. There's absolutely nothing wrong with working those kinds of jobs, or wanting to do it long-term." After finishing that thought, the hero takes another swig from his drink. Silence, to the best of its ability, creeps as the two spend the next family long moment finishing up their meals. #45 is the one to speak up while they set their garbage inside the plastic bag Righteous Lad along with him from the restaurant.

 

"I think I made a mistake... Now that I think about the things you told me, I kind of see things differently. What was I thinking, honestly? I had to be out of my mind to think that those kinds of changes would come within a week or month, anyway."

 

"Hey, it's alright. I think it's cool you're willing to admit that what you got yourself involved in wasn't a wise choice. It's the first step to redeeming yourself!" The hero expresses with a bit of enthusiasm as he reaches over to pat the other on the back a few gentle times.

 

"Thanks, man. I'm glad you actually stopped me before I took things even further than we already did."

 

"Me too! Speaking of which-- That thing you did when we were in the air... The exploding thing. What's that all about?" Righteous questions.

 

"Oh, that. Well, it's sort of like a power I had since the day I was born."

 

"To... Blow yourself up? I'd imagine it'd be hard to live safely with that your whole life."

 

"Oh, no-no! Before I met Pierre, the most I could do was like a lame party trick. At best, I could go off like a smoke bomb you can get from the store. Usually burned my clothes a bit each time I did it. But then Pierre gave me a shot of this power amplifying stuff and made it 50 times stronger!" #45 explains.

 

"Power amplifying stuff? Can you tell me more about it? Was it a supplement? A drug?" Righteous Lad asks while arching a brow.

 

"He did call it a drug. Said it was a special substance he got a good deal on from the black market."

 

"Huh... That sounds rather concerning. Are you doing alright?"

 

"Yeah, I'm fine! The shot gave me a little pep up. I felt energized, nothing else besides that." #45 assures the other.

 

"I see. Would you mind telling me about Pierre's entire operation? Common meeting place, plans, and possibly even associates who might've helped you guys get into the building. Those sorts of things." Righteous Lad requests.

 

"Oh sure. I can help ya out with that, man. Got a pen and paper? I can write some of it down for you, if you want." Soon after their talk, Righteous Lad continues his task of delivering the foot soldier to the CPSD, the cousin location of the CPD that specializes in handling proceedings for Power Inherent Humans, or 'P.I.' for short. They land in front of the two story building and enter. 

 

"Well, well, well..." A masculine voice that's both study and smooth as waxed oakwood makes itself heard. It belongs to a man with a rather imposing stature. He stands at 6'5 in height with a broad, but buff physique underneath his work uniform. A gold sleeveless shirt with the department's branding and initials on it, as well as a badge that sits on the upper left side of the shirt's breast region. A pair of aviator shades obscure his blue eyes while his officer's cap nearly hides every strand of his blonde curly locks. His skin is the shade of olive.

"If it isn't the Boy of Tomorrow. How ya doing, champ!? And who's this fella with you?"

 

"I'm doing pretty good, sir! And this here is number forty-five, a P.I He was an accomplice to the hostage situation downtown. You know, the one in that large business building."

 

"Oh, is that right? So, what are we dealing with here? Vision blasts, projectiles, deadly poison, super speed, mind control, or even telekinesis?"

 

"No. He's uuhh... Explosive. Like a bomb, in fact." Righteous Lad answers with a sheepish smile. Far less amused and far more concerned, the officer stares with an alarming look on his face.

 

"Watalski!! Gonna' need a containment room prepped and ready to go asap! Chop, chop!" The blonde shouts across the room and emphasizes with a couple of claps of his hands.

 

"Ah-- I'm not going to stop you, Officer James, but I would like to add that I don't feel he's a threat. He's also very willing to comply." Righteous Lad chimes in. The hero then turns his attention toward #45. 

"Right, man?"

 

"Y-yeah! Totally, I am very willing to be super cooperative." The former foot soldier responds.

 

"I hear ya, kid. But if it's all the same to you two gentlemen, I'd still like to put him somewhere secure where he can't potentially hurt someone. Sorry, but better safe than sorry." Officer James insists. Barely seconds after, a couple of armed escorts approach to guide #45 toward the specialized cell. 

 

"Later, Righteous Lad. Thanks again, by the way." #45 bids his farewell.

 

"Of course, man. I have faith in you! I know you'll easily turn your life around for the better." Righteous Lad responds in kind while giving a farewell salute.

 

"Good job, R.L. I'll file this in myself and make sure you get the credit for bringing the guy in." James assures the hero.

 

"Appreciated. Though, there is something else I'd like to report. #45, the guy I just brought in, told me about their base of operations and affiliates. I have an address and names on a piece of paper with me." Righteous Lad informs before retrieving the mentioned paper from the pocket of his black leather hoodie and handing it over.

 

"Interesting. I'll report it in, but what's your assessment on this? Think it's something simple enough for the authorities to handle personally?"

 

"Maybe. But I was hoping to hear your take on the severity of it. I was also told they have access to some sort of drug that can drastically amplify the powers someone has. Could be even more dangerous guys, maybe not... #45 seemed to be the only P.I. amongst his group. How do you feel about it?"

 

"Huh. That does sound pretty risky. Maybe it'd be best to let you handle this one, too. Just to be safe." Officer James answers with his features knitting into a concern frown as he hands back the piece of paper.

 

"Alright then. I'll take care of it. They're planning on meeting up in three days some time during the morning, so it seems best to wait and see if they do." Righteous Lad responds as he pockets the paper again.

 

"Sounds good. Anything else?"

 

"Nope. Just gonna' head straight home."

 

"Cya, then. You be safe out there, kid." Officer James nods.

 

"I'll do my best to do what I can, sir." Righteous Lad replies as he turns to leave. From the grounds outside of the building, the young man takes to the sky and flies his way home. Midway of his travel, he presses and holds his point & middle fingers over the lower back of his right hand where the sleeve of his costume reaches. After four seconds pass, the suit begins breaking down into tiny particles and gathering at a focus point upon his wrist. They combine and give shape to a gray sports watch, concealing the nanotechnology that his suit is made from. A moment later, he descends down two blocks away from his residence and jogs the rest of the way in his civilian clothes.