First Player/Shackled

Chapter 1: Handcuffed

The cop's nametag said he was "G. Graves." I didn't know the full story, but he must have handcuffed the suspect's right wrist to his own left wrist before losing consciousness. Now the suspect was kneeling beside the officer, searching for the right key to liberate himself from two hundred pounds of inert police officer. He didn't see me yet; I had just now come down the stairs into the basement of the building.

I stood there for a minute and let him find the handcuff key and unlock the cuff on the officer's wrist. Then I said, "Don't bother unlocking the other one, sir.“

His head jerked around. (Average looking guy probably under thirty, blue eyes, blonde hair underneath a Yankees baseball cap, I noted reflexively.) I got the feeling he briefly pondered the pros and cons of trying to yank Officer Graves’ gun from the holster—but I might be doing him an injustice. He didn't actually reach for it and from his current angle he couldn't possibly have gotten it out quickly enough to do him any good. He tried a different approach.

"Are you a superhero? Great to see you!" he said heartily with a slight English accent. "I think this poor policeman had a heart attack! I was planning to run and call 911 as soon as I could get loose, but now you can—while I stay to give CPR!" The funny thing was how incredibly sincere and convincing he sounded. But when a guy is handcuffed to a cop as I first meet him, I don't give him much benefit of the doubt.

"Yeeeaaaah, nice try man." I said pointedly. "How about we go find a phone or police radio together."

His eyes widened and he looked absolutely horrified at my insinuation. "Surely you don't think I'd be so unsporting as to abuse a helpless man? A paladin of law and order? Even if he did arrest me in a misguided fit of zeal?"

"I don't know you, do I? Perhaps Unsporting is your middle name." I didn't believe the "heart attack" story.

Readouts on my HUD confirmed my suspicions anyways. He was unconscious, but if I were a gambler, I'd bet twenty-to-one that it wasn't because of inherent health problems. No blood anywhere in sight, no clear sign of any head injuries—what had knocked him out?

The suspect's free hand had slipped into a pocket of his leather jacket and now it was coming out again. I punched at his wrist and he yelped. It should be at least a minute or two before he could really use that hand again. Meanwhile, the temporary numbing of his hand caused a hypodermic needle to slip through his fingers and roll on the floor. I checked his jacket and found two more, one fully loaded and one almost empty. "Was this what you used on the cop?"

He sighed theatrically. "You're terribly suspicious, you know that? I just happen to feel the need to give myself another allergy shot so I can keep breathing comfortably at this time of year, and then you—"

"The forensics people will nail it down, then. Comparing the contents of these needles to whatever they find in this poor man's bloodstream." I slipped all three into a plastic evidence bag. Then I glared at him and said, "Turn around and put your hands together behind your back." One cuff was still attached to his right wrist and I was going to put the other one on his left. That would make him a lot less dangerous when we went looking for a way to call the local cops.

He didn't cooperate. His eyes widened and he stared frantically over my shoulder. He snapped, "Look out!" and I frowned because even a rookie superhero knows that's the oldest trick in the book. How gullible did he think I was? "Warning him? Now that wasn't nice, Dunlap," said a male voice with a bit of a southern accent in it. "A guy might think you ain't glad to see ‘em."

I thought I saw a flash of panic in his—Dunlap’s?—eyes before I stood and swiveled around to see the new arrival. But even as I did, he was saying in a warm tone, "What? No, I was trying to warn you off, Duke! He's one of those superheroes; no telling what he might do!"

"That's right sweet of you, Dunlap," said the voice with a clear note of skepticism—and now I could see the speaker. It was clear he was going for the cowboy look. He also screamed ‘Mercenary’ as well. Leather boots, baggy blue tactical pants with an outrageous number of pockets, white gloves, and a long-sleeved red checked shirt. It looked padded too, as if he were wearing a Kevlar vest underneath. A red ‘bandit’ mask was pulled down over his chin. Pearl-handled revolvers in white holsters hung on his hips, a white cowboy hat, and blond hair. His hands were currently occupied with a rope with a big loop at one end.

"Howdy," he said politely. "I don't know who you are and I don't care. No need for a ruckus between us; I've got other fish to fry. What say you just mosey along with no hard feelings?"

I laughed lightly. "I was about to say the same thing, man. I wanna’ call an ambulance for that police officer and I want to hand this other fellow over to the authorities. As long as you’re cool with that, there's no problem." He sighed. Apparently it wasn't going to be that easy to settle this one. "So we're laying our cards on the table? Okay, I'll tell you how it stands. If you want to pick up that cop and lug him up the stairs, go for it! I don't mind. But I've got some unfinished business with Dunlap here, so if you leave him behind, I promise he won't just get off with a slap on the wrist for any crimes he's committed lately. Does that make you feel better?" He was slowly twirling his lasso as he spoke, and the tight grin on his face suggested unpleasant things for Dunlap.

I blinked at the implications of his offer. Was this guy trying to be the Punisher? Nah. Something told me he probably had his own grudge against him. But he was trying to persuade me to think of it as "justice"—even if his reasons for hurting him (or killing him?) wouldn't be the same as the law's reasons.

For the record, I’d never fought anyone with who used a lasso. If he sent that thing sailing toward me, should I duck and then move toward him fast, or try to grab hold of the rope for leverage? I was trying to find the right words to stall for time when I suddenly heard a Click! and felt something press against my left wrist. I spun around and saw that Dunlap had just snapped the other cuff onto me. Even as I reached toward him, his left hand flashed and a shiny bit of metal sailed through the air and disappeared into what appeared to be an overloaded garbage can.

The Cowboy-Mercenary named Duke laughed at the situation as I spun my head again to monitor his activities. He could have caught me with that lasso when I was distracted, but he hadn't bothered. Through gritted teeth, I asked Dunlap, "What was that all about?"

"Now you have to stay close and protect me," he said simply.

"What, you thought I was just going to bail out and let him skin you alive and then tan the hide, or whatever he has in mind?"

"It was possible!" he said defensively. "After all, I'd—" He broke off suddenly, but I got the drift. That was what he would have done if the shoe were on the other foot.

"Yeah, he would," Duke said agreeably, responding to what he hadn't finished saying. "Just like he'd convince a man into letting him invest the bounty money he'd just collected on a job, and then disappear with it!" "Oh," I said, the light dawning. "He's a con man."

"Yup. Real charmer. Back in the old days, he would have made a great snake oil salesman. Now he thinks chainin’ himself to you and throwin’ away the key is going to keep ‘em safe. Although frankly, I reckon he'd have done better to leave you your mobility and count on your 'sense of duty.' I got the feeling you just weren't feeling right about moseying out of here and letting me teach ‘em some proper manners."

"I'm getting more tempted by the minute," I sighed. "I don't suppose you know how to pick the locks on police handcuffs?"

"Nope. I admit it's a bit of a problem. Like I said, I've got no beef with you. But the two of you seem to be a package deal at the moment. You can have a few minutes to search that cop for a spare key, or go rummage around for the one he threw away—I can wait a mite." As an afterthought, he added, "I'd offer to shoot through the middle of 'em for you so you each ended up with a separate bracelet, but I'm afraid stray bits of metal might fly off any which way and gouge your hide somethin’ awful. No big deal in his case,” He said as he pointed towards Dunlap, “…but I don't want to do that to an innocent bystander."

"That’s cool," I said. "It's a good point about the keys. One sec."

"I ain't going anywhere." He stopped twirling his lasso, presumably to let his arm rest for a minute. But he was about thirty feet away and I was pretty damn sure he could react swiftly with rope or gun if Dunlap and I tried to rush him.

I stepped carefully over the officer and crouched down on his left side. "Okay, check the pockets on your side," I said. I gave Dunlap a look that was supposed to reassure him, and hoped he could read lips as I mouthed silently: Diversion. If he could do something to buy me at least a few seconds. . . .

But Dunlap got that panicked look in his eyes again and then did something I never thought he'd be dumb enough to do. He yanked at the unconscious cop's holstered gun. Well, it was a diversion I guess.

Duke yelled and made a fast draw. A gun barked in his left hand and there was a noise of metal bouncing off metal. Dunlap jerked and the tremor was transmitted through the cuff to my left arm, but it didn't stop my right hand from getting a good grip on the police officer's nightstick where it stuck through a loop on his left side, which was all I had wanted. Duke sighed loudly, "You really shouldn't have tried that, Dunlap. Now I've got to—" but, before he could finish his sentence, I was throwing that nightstick for all I was worth from thirty feet away.

A year ago I never would have tried that, because it probably would have flown off sideways and beaned a kid or something . . . but what the nanites did for my coordination has to be seen to be believed. One end of the nightstick hit him right in the dome and he staggered. The gun he had just used clattered on the concrete floor.

"H-h-how'd you do that?" Dunlap asked incredulously.

I pointed towards my visor, "Plus twenty to accuracy! Now come on!" I tugged him along as I sprinted across the basement. He kept up with me once he got the idea. We had to get to Duke before he recovered and started blazing away with his other gun.

And we did. He wasn't out cold, but from the way he was groaning and clutching at his head, he wasn't going to put up much of a fight. I kicked his fallen gun far across the room, pulled out his other gun and threw it after, and then hog-tied him with his own lasso—slightly hindered in the process by having a criminal chained to my wrist, although he kept quiet and didn't try to interfere. Then I retrieved the fallen nightstick. If Dunlap had tried to touch it first—or any other weapon—I think I would have hurt him pretty badly and called it self-defense. I guess he'd figured that out without being told; he was a pretty thin guy. By the way, this Duke guy was apparently one of those sharpshooters who liked to show off; the sole shot he'd fired had knocked the cop's gun out of Dunlap’s hand without actually hurting him.

When I was ready to leave, I twirled the nightstick in my free hand and said to Dunlap, "You lead the way up the stairs; I follow. Then we call the authorities. Give me trouble I’m dragging you back down here."

"So judgmental! Haven't you heard there are always two sides to the story?" he complained as we proceeded up the stairs.

"Sure, but I don't really care what your side is. Save it for the judge, dude"

When we got to the ground floor, I steered him toward the nearest exit. As he led the way out into the sunlight, a woman's voice said, "Hello, Dunlap! Great to see you again! I let Duke have first dibs, but if you got away from him, you're fair game now!"

(Did you ever get the feeling it was going to be one of those days?)

Chapter 2: To Catch A Thief

I yanked Dunlap back in through the doorway just before the energy blast coming from the left side sizzled through the air where he was standing a second before. I only caught a quick glimpse, but I didn’t recognize the chick. It looked like she was wearing some type of dark blue body suit and a pretty flamboyant yellow domino mask. She was definitely flying too. No visible signs of artificial flight technology. Which meant superpowers. Great.

"Agh! Bomblast! Back door!" gasped Dunlap as we scurried through the entry hall of the apartment building.

"No," I overruled him. "She can fly, right? So we'll never outrun her in the streets—she'd just soar above us and keep blasting down at our heads. We want her to come in after us where the close quarters cramp her style."

I shoved him back toward the stairs we'd so recently ascended from the basement. With any luck, she would parallel Dunlap's chain of thought and expect us to dash straight through the building and out the other side. She might fly over and try to cut us off at the pass. Let her waste a minute or two floating around in circles out there, trying to figure out which door or window we were planning to use as an exit. It might take her awhile to decide we had gone to ground. Of all the days for my Bluetooth to be on the fritz. Suddenly, leaving my equipment on the roof didn’t seem like such a good idea.

"Alright," I whispered as we scrambled into the stairwell. "Tell me about her powers! What can she do to us?"

"Uhhh… she can fire these bioelectric blasts from her hands and make lightshows. The costume lets her fly; not a genetic power. That's about it."

"Are you sure? What about super-strength, super-senses, telepathy, anything that would make it easier for her to find us or harder for me to faze her with a good punch?"

"None of the above. Just energy and the flying suit."

"Fine, fine. Hold still and shut up." If she was normal flesh and blood inside her suit, then I shouldn't have much trouble handling her if she got within arm's reach before she spotted me. Sucker punching a girl might not seem very sporting but I was really out of options at that point. And she had superpowers. So don’t judge me.

I was still holding the nightstick I'd taken from the police officer downstairs and I was just two steps down inside the stairwell. If “Bomblast” came in after us and started searching the place, the stairwell was the only way down to the basement. She'd have to come down the hallway to get here. And when she appeared in the doorframe, we'd see whose reflexes were faster. I was betting on mine.

Dunlap was standing just below me in the stairwell so he wouldn't block my efforts to defend him. I didn't trust him, but I didn't think he'd try to attack me as long as angry bounty hunters were in the neighborhood and apparently hunting his scalp. I wanted to ask him what he’d done to piss off Bomblast so I could gauge how angry she was, which might help me estimate how long she'd stick around when she must realize the police might show up if someone had already spotted her blasting at Dunlap and made a phone call to 911—but I didn't want his answer to give away our location if she was close enough to hear a whisper. No telling how long it would take to get the full picture out of him. And I'd told him to shut up, so I'd better set the example of silence myself. Life is full of these awkward little trade-offs, isn’t it?

If she was angry at Dunlap, then I hoped she was very angry. Angry enough to just charge right in like a bull in a china shop. Angry enough to make lots of noise. Angry enough to take it for granted Dunlap was hiding under a bed somewhere instead of trying to set an ambush. Come to think of it, I wasn't sure how much of a look she had gotten at me before firing that energy blast. Did she realize we were handcuffed together, or would she expect us to scatter and go our separate ways? I wonder if she even saw me.

Krash!

A pane of glass broke below us, in the basement, well out of sight from where we were. The building was one of those where the ceiling of the basement is actually a foot or more above ground level, leaving room for a few windows around the edges. Bomblast must have kicked one in. They were a bit small for a burglar to find them attractive as ways to sneak in. She might wriggle try and through anyway — but I suspected it was only meant to scare us; flush us out if we assumed she was already in the basement and tried to run away from the building.

I chewed on that. If breaking the window was a trick to get us worried about the basement, then she was thinking things through instead of just flailing around looking for Dunlap with blood in her eye. I didn't like that idea. I wanted her dumb and direct.

On the bright side . . . if Bomblast really came flying up the stairs, she'd see and shoot Dunlap first. Hopefully, she wouldn't kill him—and I'd have an extra second or two to react while he drew her fire. If I'd really believed she was coming up from the basement, I would have had to grit my teeth and place myself downhill of him so I could shield him even though he didn't deserve it—but I could only be in one place in the stairwell at a time. Staying by the stairwell doorway on the ground floor still felt like the smartest way to go.

Footsteps! Then someone crossed my field of vision and my right hand twitched before I caught myself short of striking through the doorway into the hall. It was a woman, but she wasn't wearing Bomblast’s costume and her hair was shorter. There was a thump as she landed several feet away—I think Bomblast must've knocked her out with an energy blast and then carried her into the building and threw her past the doorway to see if anything nasty happened.

I was right. A few seconds later she came down the hallway. She must have decided the stairwell was clear or else her decoy would have been waylaid. I used the nightstick to good effect and took her down fast before she could blast me with her mutant power. She hit the ground hard and I almost felt bad. Almost.

"Okay, Dunlap, speak. For starters, tell me how many more people are hunting you!"

"All around the whole wide world, or just right here in this city?"

I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Start with the city."

He opened his eyes very wide and looked innocent and confused. "None that I know of! But I didn't even know Duke or Ellen were in town! How can I say who else might have come here looking for me?"

Ellen? The way he said her name made it sound like he’d-

"You slept with her didn’t you?” I hissed at him as I narrowed my eyes.

“Well… yes.”

“You disappear then too?”

“Pretty much. Along with a few of her belongings as well.”

I sighed again, “Say no more, Dunlap. Let's back up to the whole wide world. How many enemies have you made? Specifically, how many supervillain enemies?"

His face went blank. He really didn't want to tell me. Then he said, "There are over a dozen costumed individuals who ‘’might’’ think they had a grudge against me, what with one thing and another. You know how it is!"

"No, I didn't know, but I think I'm learning 'how it is' the way you do it! You get them to trust you with something valuable? Talk about quick returns on a good investment? Then you fade away with the 'investment’?"

"Only sometimes," he said defensively. "Other times I just see an opportunity to acquire something and I take it without the mark ever knowing who burgled them!"

"You're a real piece of work, Dunlap. Do you specialize in unsavory characters like these two?"

He nodded.

"Why? More challenge? More excitement in cheating people wearing costumes?”

"More money," he said succinctly. I looked at him until he elaborated. "Villains who can rob banks and get away with it have more loot to throw around than people who just work as doctors or teachers. And they aren't surrounded by suspicious relatives and financial advisors and security guards. Less interference to worry about. And they're a lot less likely to go running to the police! How do you report the theft of bags of cash you weren't supposed to have in the first place? I figure as long as I can get out of sight in a hurry after I make a big score, I'm home free! Safer, in the long run, than swindling law-abiding people who might swallow their pride and tell the FBI how I fooled them! Besides," he added virtuously, "You wouldn't want me to drain an ‘’honest’’ person’s savings, would you?"

"I wouldn't want you to cheat anybody in the first place!" I whispered a bit too loudly. "But I don't want to just let someone murder you either." (It was getting to be a near thing, though. The dude was a parasite in human form; he didn't provide any real services to keep a small part of our society running smoothly; he just lied his face off to feed from the labors of others. And that was only ‘’his’’ side of the story.

"So," he interrupted my train of thought, "Do we just waltz outside again and hope we make it further than two steps beyond the door this time around?"

Good question. I wished I had better intel about the opposition, or ‘’if’’ there was any opposition left. Duke had somehow tracked him to this building right after the cop did (I still needed to call an ambulance for the guy, when I could). Bomblast said that she'd agreed to let Duke have first dibs on catching him—but when he made it out of the building, he was fair game for her. Could there be someone else involved who'd agreed to let Duke, and then Bomblast, go ahead of them? A whole coalition of Dunlap's furious victims? No way. It sounded too b-action movie like.

That cop in the basement. His patrol car was parked about a hundred feet away from the front entrance to the apartment building; I saw it as I landed on the roof. My original plan had been to escort Dunlap to the car, call in to the local dispatcher and report, then wait for other cops to show up to take Dunlap into custody and succor their drugged friend. Bomblast had interrupted that. Now I had to ask myself what our chances were of surviving the second attempt to reach the patrol car.

The building was condemned; the chances of finding a working phone (or anything to make a something like a working phone) in it were slim. That left finding an exit strategy. If someone else might be watching the doors—then it hit me.

“We’re flying out of here, Dunlap.”

“On what?! Our hopes and dreams?!”

“I’ve got a hoverboard stashed on the roof. It’s how I got in.”

How hard could it be to make it to the roof? We’d get up there and just soar away into the wild blue yonder. Sooner or later we'd find a park or something and then I'd make contact with the cops and give Dunlap to them.

What could go wrong?

Chapter 3: Falling Feels Like Flying

I'm not sure how many of you have seen Back to The Future Part II. Hopefully all of you. If you have, you'll know that hoverboards aren't made for two.

I grabbed my staff and hooked it into the back of my vest before I hopped on my board and slid my feet into the magnetic clamps. "Just straddle the back and don't let go." I told him. Then he started complaining again.

"This is very homo-erotic."

"Just shut up and hold on."

When the time came for liftoff, he didn't seem so sure of himself. "Are you sure this thing is fit for carrying two people at once?"

"Never tried it." I answered truthfully.

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better."

Fun fact: The McFly was only ever built for one. I mean, I could make a bigger one in theory, buuuuut... it'd be really bulky and cumbersome. And a lot less cool looking.

So we took off anyways. We were teetering for a bit but we straightened out eventually. I had Dunlap's slight build to thank for that. We had been in Kings Row when we took off, I headed across High Park as my HUD guided me towards the police precinct. Yessss. Home fr-

"MILES BENEDICT."

I sighed. Heavily. I knew that voice. I twisted my head to see a face I was already quite familiar with.

"Funny meeting you here, Miles!" He shouted.

Then I heard Dunlap's voice from behind me. "Hah. Your name is Miles?"

I dipped the tail of the hoverboard low and he screamed. "Shut up." I whispered. Then I whipped around to face my archnemesis. "Don't you have better things to do today than bother me, Griefer?"

"Not at the moment, no!" He sneered. This guy, man... He's been a pain in my ass ever since I landed in Paragon. I have no idea why, but this geek's got a huge grudge against me. He wears this army green powered suit of armor with this huge dumb helmet. What troubled me was the height at which he was flying. He'd only ever been able to make it a few feet off the ground. But we were at least fifty feet up. Looked like someone had been making a few upgrades.

"Eying the new suit, huh?" He smirked. I guess he noticed me staring. "Watch this."

Then I heard the familiar hum of something powering up and I immediately opened the throttle. A ball of energy whizzed behind me, singing the brim of my backwards cap. Readouts from my H.U.D. were registering superheated plasma. Where the hell had he gotten that from?

I heard him cackling above me as I divebombed towards the ground, Dunlap clinging to my left ankle with one arm like his life depended on it. Which it did.

"Is that your boyfriend riding the back, huh? I always took you for the bottom one!"

I clenched my teeth angrily as I swooped low and to the left, narrowly dodging another blast. I built the McFly To withstand a considerable amount of punishment. I never prepared for superheated plasma though. "This guy one of yours?!" Dunlap wailed from behind me.

"Yeah!" I shouted, the wind whipping the words right out of my mouth. I poured on the speed. "Pull up, pull up, pull up!" Dunlap screamed right as we plummeted towards the ground. We were closing in on a park. I hoped the trees would provide us some cover. I could hear the Griefer catching up to us. Had to time this just right.

I pulled the lip of my hoverboard up just over a grassy hill in the park, leaned to the side as we slowed to a gradual stop. Dunlap let out an exaggerated sigh as I unlatched the clamps on my boots and hopped off with him in tow. He wobbled on his feet before falling over, dragging my handcuffed wrist down with him. "Ow, ow, ow, ow!" I groaned.

"Kinky." The Griefer snickered as he landed a few feet from us.

"If I wasn't handcuffed right now, I'd kick your ass." I muttered, straightening my hat.

"Let's do something about that then." He countered. He pointed a finger towards the chains of our cuffs and fired a small bolt of electricity. The chain snapped like a twig. Magnetic manipulators in his gloves? That didn't bode well for me...

With his newfound freedom, Dunlap rubbed his wrist where the bracelet had dug in. Three seconds later he realized he was no longer linked to me, picked himself up, turned tail and ran.

"Damnit!" I cursed loudly. I turned back towards the my adversary. "If he gets away, so help me..."

"Who cares about one little con man?" He laughed. Behind my visor I arched a brow. Ten seconds ago he didn't know who Dunlap was. I up-nodded towards his helmet.

"Who's feeding you intel, Griefer? You didn't just happen to bump into me either."

"Now that'd be telling. Spoilers..." He smirked.

I'd bet dollars to donuts whoever it was supplied him with the new tech too. Internal magnetic manipulators were way out of his area of expertise.

"I don't have time for another grudge match!" I yelled.

"Too bad!" He shouted as sprinted towards me.

Oh boy. I unhinged my staff from the back of my vest, spun and countered the Griefer's strike towards me, catching him in the stomach with a blow as he passed me. I used the momentum to roll forward and turn as my staff charged up.

I aimed the head of my staff towards him as he recovered. "Maximum effort." I sighed, took a deep breath and fired, clenching my teeth as the recoil vibrated my arm. Yards away, The Griefer dodged the blast with surprising speed, lifted off the ground and launched towards me like a cruise missile. The force of his tackle lifted me off my feet with him as he wrapped his arms around my midsection and threw me against the trunk of a tree. Next thing I know, I'm on my ass looking up at him. He leered over me, pointed one of his plasma-shooting gauntlets towards me, and took a deep breath.

"Let me take a moment to savor this."

Something behind him caught my eye and I couldn't help but grin. "I'm not goin' anywhere. Take all the time in world."

He followed my gaze and gasped. A split second later, a beam of concussive energy hit him in the shoulder. I was pretty sure I heard a crack too. There goes a collarbone. The force of the blast spun him around and knocked him out of my line of sight. Behind him Dunlap chuckled as he looked over my staff, "So that's how this thing works..."

"This means I get a pass, don't I?" Dunlap grinned hopefully from his spot on the grass. The Griefer groaned and tried to move from his spot on the grass. I moved from my spot on the grass to the Griefer's spot on the grass and set my booted foot on his chest. "Where d'you think you're goin'?"

I leaned down and tapped his helmet, "Oh yeah, I'll take this by the way." Time to work on finding out who's funding this supergeek all of a sudden. I cradled it under my arm as I turned to Dunlap, "A pass? Are you kidding me?"

"I just saved your life! A superhero's life, nonetheless! There's no justice in the world!" He threw his hands up in protest as he picked himself up from the ground. I rubbed the bridge of my nose as I considered what he said.

"I'm going to regret this, I know it." I sighed as I waved a hand. He got the idea and clapped his hands once. "But if you ever scam some supervillain again, don't come crying to me for help."

He nodded once, "You won't regret it, Miles Benedict!"

I shook a fist and shouted after him as he ran off, "Stop saying my name!"