Sorry about the abrupt and dramatic cutoff. Hopefully I’ll never have to do that when something important is going on, like hanging off the side of a cliff or something. I only have so much I can send through to your dimension at a time. I couldn’t even let people know that was why I had to cut it off last time. We’re going to work on upping the limit. Transmitting data through other dimensions is interesting stuff. Nearly impossible to crack enemy communications if they send them through another world to get them to the right person. But you don’t want to hear about all that, not when we’re in the middle of a tale.
Elita needed a decoy and I was just the guy for the job. After all, I’m an unusual fellow who dresses in bright orange. I catch the eye.
The day rolled around and I had all I needed. One coat, expendable. One van, stolen. And one gauss pistol, experimental. The plan was simple. Elita would wait in line and keep an eye out for anyone calling in about her, then she’d let me know. When heroes were supposed to be on their way, I would make a scene in the general area and divert any responding heroes. It was a very vague mandate and I was prepared to fulfill it as only a criminal mastermind could.
My plan unfolded when I got the call. I took a couple of minutes to make sure everything was ready, then kicked open the backdoor of the van and accidently knocking over an old lady with a walker in the process. After helping her back up and apologizing profusely, she accepted my apology by screaming for help. Don’t you hate these little misunderstandings? There I was, apparently dressed in nothing but a coat that was tied closed and a pair of bright red tennis shoes, an open van near me, holding onto an old woman and her walker while she screamed.
My plan to draw attention to myself was not going very well.
She went to whack me with her purse, but all that did was drop her medication and a mess of pennies, nickels, and dimes. Finally I had enough and grabbed my coat. “Look lady, I’m tired of playing around here, so you’d better relax!” Then I threw the coat open.
It turns out granny didn’t need the walker after all the way she ran out of there. I bet she even took up handicap spaces she didn’t need. Don’t worry, I had something on underneath the coat. In fact, I unstrapped my gauss pistol and grabbed some of the change the old lady dropped. Originally the plan was to use every parking meter around for weapons testing. Grab a quarter, blast one, grab quarters from that one, blast more of them. Really piss off the meter maids in the process just so I can see what it’s like to get chased by the little cart. The coat was just a good way to conceal what is or isn’t underneath.
I took aim at one nearby and was rewarded for all my careful planning by the sound of the gun charging up and failing with a thoom sound. I tried it again, same thoom, same nothing. I even knocked it on the side, just in case it needed some basic percussive maintenance. I raised it up to throw the damn thing at the parking meter in question when something slammed into me from behind. I flew forward and skidded on the pavement, dropping the pistol on the ground.
“For God’s sake man, cover up and stay down,” came an electronically-filtered voice behind me. “Ok folks, this isn’t the kind of crime I normally handle, but it still needs doing too. This guy was messing with a book store too.”
“Who are you talking to, spandex?”
“My name is Jetbomb and I’m trying to do a cross-dimensional vlog here.”
“Ouch, nobody interested in you in this dimension?”
He stepped closer, a mite perturbed by my taunting, “Actually, this is going out to people in a dimension that doesn’t even have superheroes.”
“Oooh, I’m sure you’re real impressive to someone who has never even heard of Eggplant Man.”
“We’re going to take a break while I cover this guy up, folks,’ said the voice before grabbing me by the coat. When he turned me around there was, surprise surprise, no sign of any scraping you would normally expect from a nearly naked man who had been knocked to a parking lot. In retrospect, it was probably the orange body armor that had “Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo” painted on it in black.
The heroic vlogger wasn’t exactly what I expected either, but then all I expected was a flying kid in tights. He had a bright green and tan outfit on. There were tights with light armor plating and integrated straps that held the twin jet engines to his back. A dark octagonal camera was hooked to one strap. The helmet he wore topped off the image pretty well. Hands up, I kicked him in the shin with my right foot, stepped in and got him in the groin with my left knee, and finished sending him to the ground with a headbutt.
While he was doing his imitation of a turtle, I yoinked his camera. “Wow, this thing is crossdimensional, is it?”
“Yeah. Hey! Give that back!”
I took a few steps back and grabbed my gun. He was taking his time getting back to his feet. Funny how a massive jetpack slows down your ability stand upright after being knocked on your ass. “You can’t take that! You’re under arrest!”
It was hard to argue with the logic of the guy I beat up so I turned a dial on my gauss pistol, jammed a button in under the grip, and tossed it to him, “You’re right, there’s my weapon. Have you ever taken in a superhero murderer before?”