Superkid

learned some new moves.”

  The colossal crawler’s brow rose. “Oh really? What ones?”

  “Karate,” Superkid responded and struck a stance.

  “Karate?” the spider snorted. “Where’d you learn karate?”

  “From me,” said the karate woman as she stepped into view.

  “Yeah, from her.” Our hero flashed his master a dazzling smile.

  “I see,” the vile creeper chuckled, “and she probably made your costume, too.” It eyed the yellow and orange costume with a sneer.

  “Actually,” Superkid corrected, “Mrs. Terrell made it—with a new feature. Just got it today.”

  The spider’s brow rose. “New feature?”

  “Yep.” Our fearless hero was almost bouncing with excitement. “Watch this.” He grabbed a thin hose dangling down his shoulder and puffed air into it. Suddenly his cape expanded into a balloon and began rising above his head. He puffed some more, expanding the balloon some more until, incredibly, it began to lift him off the ground!

  “What the!?” both the beast and the karate master gasped.

  But the fearless kid hadn’t finished yet. He still had another surprise to reveal. He puffed air into the hose again.

  This time, there was the sound of rushing air from two vents in his back, which pushed him at the colossal critter with jet-like speed. He stuck his legs out in front of him, which connected with the spider right in its soft, sensitive head.

  The impact sent the giant arachnid bouncing onto its behind with a surprised, “Gah!” Superkid flipped backwards in the air and executed a perfect landing.

  “How did you do that?” his flabbergasted master gasped.

  “You mean the balloon thing?” responded our hero. His master had already seen him making a fool out of himself trying to perfect a backflip forever and ever, so she must have been asking about that. He explained, “Dr. Red accidentally gave me the ability to control the temperature of my breath. So I decided to make it useful and had Mrs. Terrell make a costume with a cape that could turn into a miniature hot-air balloon.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “That’s amazing.”

  Superkid beamed. “I know, isn’t it?”

  The massive critter stumbled forward, rubbing its head with its foreleg, and mumbled grumpily, “Interesting power.”

  “A unique one, I would say,” said the thermodynamic, aerodynamic, and just plain, old dynamic kid.

  “Indeed,” the spider agreed. “It’s almost a shame I’m going to crush you.”

  Our hero snorted. “That’s what you said last time and you got clobbered.”

  “I’m a bit smarter than last time,” the monster replied, aiming its abdomen at the kid.

  “Quite an edge there—except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?” the spider asked and immediately fired a string of web. The dastardly arachnid had hoped that this surprise attack would catch Superkid off-guard. But it had underestimated our youthful vigilante. He had deftly dodged it with a leap and a twirl (which is manlier than it sounds).

  He now turned to the dastardly arachnid and said with a grin, “I’ve gotten smarter too.”

  The giant hairy creature growled in annoyance. Then it grinned as it aimed its spinnerets at the twelve-year-old hero. “So you’ve learned a few tricks?”

  Superkid blew into his tube, ballooning his cape, which shot him into the air. “Yep!”

  The spider’s smile widened and its eyes narrowed slyly. “So have I.” It shot another string of web at the airborne kid, but instead of letting it hit him, the spider caught the rope. Superkid watched a little puzzled as the spider flashed him a grin. Then suddenly the rope came up and cracked him on the head.

  Superkid cried in pain as he clutched his head. Spots flashed in front of his eyes.

  The evil arachnid chuckled. “Score one for the bad guy.”

  It gasped when it felt a sharp pain in its second right leg. Then there was another shock of pain to its second left leg. After that the rest of its legs experienced shocks of pain and it came crashing down. Then it felt what seemed suspiciously like a kick to the rear.

  “Whun—the?” it grunted, trying to get back to its feet. Then it saw the karate woman leap into view.

  “You,” it growled. “You’re that kid’s master… taught him karate?”

  “Precisely,” said Jennifer, “and as his master, I am responsible for his protection.”

  “Then…” the evil critter grunted as it got to its feet, “I will have to deal with you as well.”

  “That’s right,” she growled, crouching in a fighting stance.

  The evil arachnid brought its whip cracking down on the karate master—or rather, where she had been. She had dodged it with a cartwheel and now gave the spider a chop on the leg joint.

  “Ungh!” The spider snapped its whip to the right. She dodged it as it whipped past her then grabbed it as it pulled away and used it to launch herself feet-first into the side of the spider’s face.

  “Aack!” the monster stumbled sideways and then collapsed.

  Jennifer huffed in satisfaction. Then she glanced up at Superkid hovering several feet in the air, still cradling his head.

  “Are you okay?” she called to him.

  It was a few second before he responded, “That whip is mean! I think it gave me a few scars right next to my eye! But other than that, I’m okay.”

  “Let’s see if we can bring down the monster. I’ll try to take its whip, you keep it busy.”

  “Yes ma’am,” said our hero with a salute. He yanked the hose on his shoulder, releasing air from his balloon, and dropped to the ground next to his master. Together they charged the behemoth as it was getting back to its feet.

  It surprised the master and pupil when it snapped the whip at them, causing them to react by leaping backwards. It turned to face the two. Superkid skirted around to try to get behind the dastardly creeper, but it turned to keep its face to him and snapped the whip to stop him.

  --which was exactly the sort of distraction that Jennifer needed. With its attention on the costumed kid, she scooted around to its massive abdomen. She leaped onto a car parked on the side of the road and launched herself from there onto the gargantuan arachnid’s back.

  “What?!” the spider glanced behind itself and saw the karate woman balancing on its rump. With a snarl, it began spinning in a circle, throwing its legs out from the sheer speed. Jennifer was forced to drop and cling as tightly as she could to its hair.

  Superkid took this as his chance to run in close to the monster. After gauging the speed of the spider’s spin (try saying that three times fast!), he went into his own spin and then delivered a well-placed kick to the behemoth’s pivotal leg.

  It was like a bully tripping a nerd. The behemoth crashed to the ground, driving its face into the unforgiving asphalt where it lay groaning.

  Jennifer immediately got up and hurried to its head. With a cry, she jabbed the back of the massive monster’s head and it was immediately knocked unconscious. Chalk another victory for the karate team.

  The official scorekeepers—the reporters—rushed in for congratulations.

  “Isn’t this the same giant spider you defeated before?”

  “Have you killed it this time?”

  “How many more monsters do you think you’ll have to defeat before they realize not to mess with you?”

  Jennifer dropped from the monster’s head, determined that they were going to get the story right this time.

  But it just wasn’t fated to be, for when the reporters noticed her, one of them—a solidly built man with a handsome mustache (a combination that knocked most ladies over)—asked, “And how did this delicate damsel find herself in the clutches of this monster?”

  That was the final straw. She finally snapped—finally had enough!

  “I WAS NOT ITS VICTIM!” she screamed.

  Everyone turned to her in shock.

  But she wasn’t done. She had quite a bit m
ore steam to vent and vent she did, “I WAS NEVER THE VICTIM! I HELPED DEFEAT THOSE MONSTERS! BUT YOU PEOPLE COME ALONG AND WRITE RIDICULOUS STORIES ABOUT HOW I GOT IN THE MONSTER’S WAY AND SOME STUPID KID RESCUES ME! LIKE I’M SOME DELICATE DAMSEL! (At this, the solid man with the handsome mustache raised his equally handsome brow) LIKE SOME HELPLESS WOMAN!”

  SHE TOOK A FEW—Sorry. She took a few gulping breaths and then continued, “I taught him how to fight! I taught him how to defeat those monsters! Everything he knows was taught by me! He knows karate because of me!”

  “Karate?” asked a young and eager reporter. “So that’s the style of fight he employed against that monster? What’s his level?”

  “Yellow,” Superkid answered humbly. “She’s a black belt. Much higher than me. A black belt.”

  But his master didn’t hear his attempts to establish respect for her. She stooped down and snatched the whip still clutched in the spider’s claws. Then she stood and snapped the air with the whip.

  “Listen to me now! I am a black belt and don’t any of you forget it!”

  And no one did. In fact, that young and eager reporter scribbled the name on his pad and circled it several times for emphasis. It would end up appearing in a story where a seven-year-old kid defeated a ten-story monster and was about to celebrate his victory when the mother of the monster arrived to wreak vengeance, which was a lot tougher to beat because it had a black belt in karate. The editor-in-chief would, in a stroke of inspiration, decide to call this mother monster “the Black Belt” as a pun on the spider, the black widow, and the high-ranking karate belt. And that’s how she became known as “the Black Belt.”

  But we’re getting ahead of ourselves again. Right now, the irate woman continued, “You want to see how helpless I am? Wait until I’m finished with your beloved Superkid!” And she snapped the whip.

  Reporters scattered, yelling in pain. This left Superkid wide open to receive the black belt’s full wrath.

  “Uh-oh,” he said and ran.

  She gave chase. She had longer legs than our diminutive hero and was soon close enough that she snapped the whip, which wrapped around our hero’s leg. She halted and yanked on the whip.

  Our hero’s leg flew out behind him and he belly-flopped onto the asphalt, which was no more forgiving to the hero than it was to the monster. It was especially brutal to his stomach when the black belt began reeling him in.

  Superkid knew he was no match for the karate master. If she got her hands on him, he’d be minced so neatly he’d fit in a shoebox. Fortunately he had an idea. He grabbed the hose on his shoulder and blew into it.

  His cape ballooned and lifted him into the air. The black belt doubled her speed in reeling him in. Superkid blew more air into his balloon. He swung in the air to directly above his former master and then, incredibly, began to lift her!

  As insensible as she was, the black belt knew she would have little advantage in the air. Sure she was strong enough to climb up and then beat the living daylights out of the kid, but that would leave her stuck in the air with no way of getting back down safely. So she gave her whip a shake to dislodge it from his leg and then glared up at the airborne kid, who was like a tiny bird in the sky.

  “Get down here!” she screamed in frustration.

  “Not until you calm down!” he yelled back.

  “How can I calm down if every time we defeat a monster, I’m made its victim?” And you’re made out to be the one always rescuing me?!”

  “It’s not my fault!”

  “It’s YOU who’s always the hero! YOU who saves the day! YOU who rescues the damsel in distress, ME!” She snapped her whip at a mailbox, leaving a nasty gash in its metal body.

  “But I’m not going to be the damsel in distress anymore! Let’s see how your hanger-on media hounds like it when the helpless maiden becomes your worst enemy, Superkid! When we meet again, we will see who’s better! We will see!” And with this dire threat, she stormed through the pack of media hounds trying to ask her questions. Only when she chopped a man in the stomach did they give her room.

  But there was still one reporter who had enough gall to stand in her way. A woman in black: black shirt, black pants, black shoes, black hair—this woman was serious about black.

  “So you’ve decided to become a villain?” she asked, poising her black pen over her white notepad (she wanted to have it black, but black ink against black paper is kind of hard to read).

  The karate woman replied tetchily, “Who are you?”

  The reporter smiled, showing long, pointy teeth. Jennifer was taken aback by this and felt a chill travel down her spine. When this woman in black reached forward and grasped her hand to shake, she shivered, for the hand felt cool—like stone. Not only that, Jennifer felt the strangest sensation rushing through her hand as though her thoughts were being siphoned through there.

  “My name is Rachel Meranst,” this unnerving woman said crisply. With a sly smile, she added, “I’m a reporter.”

  The karate woman’s eyes glazed over and her voice took on an airy tone. “Really?”

  “That kid being a nuisance?”

  “Well, I may have misdirected my anger…”

  “Misdirected your anger at a kid who upstages you all the time? Misdirected your anger at a kid who takes the glory which rightfully belongs to you?”

  “You… have a point.” The black belt couldn’t think straight. It seemed easier to just agree with this strange woman.

  Rachel’s smile became very malicious. She gave one last shake of the karate woman’s hand and said, “We shall expect you for a rematch with that upstart brat who has the audacity to believe he was your hero.” She let go, gave a nod to the dazed black belt, and then strode toward the hero who was coming down from the air.

  Jennifer blinked stupidly while she gathered her flimsy thoughts together. At last, she shook her head and glanced toward the reporter.

  Who was that? Who is that woman?

  She shuddered when she recalled the creepy smile and those pointy teeth.

  There’s something wrong about her. Something strange. Something evil…

  She shuddered again and then turned and hurried on her way.

  Yes, that reporter was right that she was going to be back to settle the score with that little upstart. But she hoped she wouldn’t have to face that reporter again. She wasn’t going to cross paths again with that strange woman if she could help it.

  Or was she…?

  Maybe so, maybe not. But someone was going to cross paths with that creepy reporter very soon… a short, orange-and-yellow-costumed someone…

  And it was not going to be pretty…

  Issue # 5: The Vampire

  Shortly after the karate woman left (and I mean very shortly! In fact, it was just moments afterwards!), the newest member of Superkid’s rogue gallery appeared. She was probably the scariest villain he had ever or will ever meet… relatively speaking, of course, since our hero couldn’t actually feel fear. Nonetheless, she left quite an impression on him during their first encounter.

  This is what happened…

  Rachel Meranst, the off-putting reporter with a preference for the color black, strode over to Superkid who had just landed gently on the ground. She pushed away the other reporters who had gathered around him and stood over him so there was no chance the kid hero could possibly miss her.

  “Superkid?” she said in a tone that curdled blood more than the average high-calorie snack.

  Superkid stared up at her. “Yeah?”

  She flashed him her unusually long teeth in what could have been a winning smile—if you tilted your head a bit and squinted. She grabbed his hand and shook it heartily. “Pleased to meet you, Superkid. I’m Rachel Meranst.”

  “Pleased to meet you too, Miss Meranst,” Superkid replied, working hard to remember his etiquette. It wasn’t just the air she put off; for some reason, the instant the reporter had touched his hand his mind felt as though it had turned to gloop. H
e had barely enough control to construct the thought: Why does it feel like my thoughts are being sucked through my hand into hers?

  Miss Meranst laughed. “Oh please, call me Rachel.”

  “Rrayy—chulll,” the dazed hero slurred.

  Rachel’s smile widened, and it looked rather menacing but she had her back to everyone else and Superkid was too befuddled to notice. And while Rachel has our hero in his befuddled state, I’ll describe her to you.

  She was a forty-year-old full-figured woman with dark brown eyes and shoulder-length hair dyed black. No one knows what her original hair color was. No one’s bothered to ask. No one really even wanted to get close enough to her to ask. There was just something about her that set off everyone’s creep-o’-meter. But it didn’t stop Rachel from getting close to everyone else.

  Rachel told our hero, “That’s an unusual ability you have.”

  It took our hero a little while to respond. “Oh… to cun-trolll thuh temp-rah-chur… of my breath? Uhhhh… yeahhhh… Doctuurrr Red gave thizzz powerrrrr to me… when he thought… he wuzzz… poy-zunning… meeee…”

  “And you use this ability to inflate your cape into a balloon?”

  Superkid’s head drooped and he struggled to lift it back up. “Yezzzz…”

  Rachel tightened her grip on the youth’s hand and then glanced at the corner signpost where a bystander stood. That bystander looked a little suspicious had anyone bothered to check.

  It was a struggle for Superkid to even tilt his head back, but he finally managed. What little energy he had left went into signaling alarm bells in his head, for he saw something strange in this reporter’s eyes.

  They had turned red.

  He dropped to his knees and his head flopped down.

  “Hey!” one of the reporters cried and charged forward. “Is he okay? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing to be alarmed about,” Rachel responded, turning to face the reporter. “Just a little tired.”

  “We should probably get him to bed in that case,” another reporter said and moved forward.

  “I’ve got things under control,” Rachel said smoothly, waving her away.

  That’s when another reporter screamed, “His eyes just rolled to the back of his head!”

  This brought the reporters swarming. Rachel tried fending them off by crying, “It’s okay! It’s nothing to worry about! I’ve got it handled!” and waving her hands, but the reporters were now pitching their hands in, grabbing Superkid and tugging on him.

  Now Rachel got vicious. Her fingernails--claws painted black--swiped at reporters, causing them to scream in pain and draw away.

  But there were too many of them--many of them she couldn’t reach and eventually Superkid’s hand was ripped free from hers.

  All of the energy that had been slowly draining from our hero suddenly rushed back into him. His response was rather dramatic: he shot backwards over the reporters’ heads and landed some ten feet behind them.

  “Don’t touch her!” he shouted, pointing at Rachel.

  “You idiots!” she screeched. “I had everything under control! Couldn’t you just listen?”

  The reporters turned perplexedly between the diminutive hero and the irate reporter. Finally, one of the reporters asked her, “Rachel,