My bat hits the floor in a fun, jaunty rhythm. I am tired, but a good tired. Joints loose and feet dragging just a bit to give the whole body something more to take with momentum. I bounce on my heels and let it all flow down like it should. The hair is neat and tied. I add lack of appropriate styling and coloring equipment to the list of Captain Solar's many, many, many, many flaws. But I do not hold a grudge. The kit is still stylish and cur. The colors still pop and shine. I am loose and flowing like one moment to the next. I do not stop. I cannot stop. Each foot before me is another second ticking on by with nothing gained by its passage.
"Do you want the goons," Riot Girl says to my left, "Or do you want the technicolor dreamcoat?"
"Oh, why did you have to ruin my moment?" I say, "I was all Zen, thinking about time and its liquid nature. Why must you bring back down the real world and its tactical strategies."
"You're starting to get all pontificatey, Save that for outside. I think you should take Azure Dream. I had him last time. He's not so tough."
"I think that you're just, really, really tough. Baseline is all sqwonked up. Remember, I am a soft and squishy hedgehog."
"Y'know, unconfident men aren't really that attractive. You are a fuck machine that can stop time with a batting average of .700. I want you to say that."
".700 is, like, stupid impossible, just so you know."
"Fine. .750. There. Now say the words and then we go beat some people up."
"Guys," Alizarin calls, "I have the bike ready with the files. I don't know what ritual you all need to get psyched up, but it needs to happen soon. There's just going to be more of them out there when we open the doors. I would like less of them."
"We're not doing anything until Beat Down says the words."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes."
"Yes," says Alizarin, "I think it's a lie, but I also want to leave and not be here."
"I am a sex machine that can stop time with a batting average of .750. There. Happy?"
"Extremely. Ok, Allie. We're all set."
The engine roars to life behind us and I take a deep breath. The bat spins and twirls for a moment before landing across my shoulders with the comforting weight. I am solid, still flowing and loose, but solid all around. It is a lovely sound, especially with the pair of thunderclaps by my side. She bounces too, on the balls of her feet, up and down, up and down, swaying side to side, front to back. It is all as it should be. Alizarin revs the engine one last time, just in case we didn't hear it. I do not mind. I wish she would do it a third time, but the rolling shutter does most of the noise work.
So many new friends are waiting outside, pointing guns and knives and all sorts of dangerous things our way. And there's even a wonderful old friend in garish colors and hypnotic patterns. And he is now my duty to take care of. He might want some drinks or snacks and I have to provide. Shame this isn't my house. I might be able to offer him some rather wonderful treats otherwise. But that's life. We are all disappointed with our circumstances and nothing will ever change them. The klaxon goes off one last time in a harsh squawk.
"Lock down has been lifted," says a cheery voice from the nether realm, "Good job, Captain Solar. I bet they're going to feel that in the morning. You really taught them a lesson."
And all the composure I have breaks down in knee slapping laughter. Riot is no better, stamping her feet and trying to find some combination of motion that would ease her transition back to serious.
"That's amazing. That's amazing. We need to get something like that," she giggles.
"I'll look into it. But wow. That's, that's something. Ok. Ok. Business time. Serious time. Got to hurt some people and do bad things. We can't laugh when we do bad things."
Deep breaths, deep breaths and calming motions, the weight on the shoulders from the bent metal with heavy dents. It's calming. It's heavy. It is all that I can be and all that I should. I thunk it against the garage door threshold. Head back in the game, all the thoughts turned to combat and confrontation. Men with guns, a man in garish colors, an all-around good time. Alizarin revs the bike on last time and I still want one more, like a kid behind a truck on the highway.
Together, Riot and I walk up the ramp back to ground level, evil, dark things in our mind and wishes for the option of violence.
"Evil doers," yells the man on the other side of the lawn, "You have trespassed on the sacred sanctum of our illustrious guild. I cannot even imagine what trespasses have transpired inside. Prepare to give yourselves over quietly."
Azure Dream stands proudly, for there is no other way he has learned to stand. Color, the man has color pouring from him in perfect syncopated spirals. It's too noisy. Ultra-Violence goes for a similar psychedelia, but she knows the importance of neutral space. Azure doesn't. It is noise for the sake of noise, stripes clashing against dots, plaid on plaid, all of it colliding with no real artistry.
"We're just house hunting buddy," I say, "Our place is getting a bit too small for us. This just came up for sale, right? With the way the market is, I just thought we'd get a head start. You know how it is."
Riot smiles. I can feel it. The men behind the color cacophony all have guns pointed at us. It makes the whole thing just a bit more exciting. I barely even registered them with the rainbow affliction before us, still pontificating.
"You have entered a sacred place," Azure shouts with dramatic posing, "Your presence is a stain, a mark against the sacred ground of justice."
"You're using sacred too much," Riot says, "Try sanctimonious. Or hallowed. Precious and revered might also work. But get fancy with it. Feel it out."
"Now, would you mind getting out of our way?" I ask, the words dancing through a polite smile, "The meter's running and we got places to be."
I admire the thumbs' ability to remain calm. I would have shot by now, if only to shut me up. Even as the roar of an engine comes from the garage's maw, they remain dead focused on us. That particular threat is something to ignore.
But my admiration runs thin. I was telling the truth. We have places to be, things to do, people to meet, very important errands that mostly involve not being here. They also involve a bed and a nap and maybe something to eat. So, I have to take action and actually do something to remedy my situation.
The thumbs look more or less the same once they are robbed of all the color in the world. White armor helps, melding into wide shoulders and a streamlined physique, gunmetal gray rifles still trained and centered. Azure thankfully does not. He looks like TV static, now that there is no pigment to break up his shape. Smug TV static, full of righteous fury at other people for having the audacity to exist. Or something. His eyes are behind an iridescent oil smear of a mask, so any emotion that requires the eyes is hidden.
I take my leisurely time, strolling up the unkempt grass. I spot another dragonfly frozen to its perch as I walk. I like this bug. I wish him well. May he live the full year and have many tasty trash piles to feast on.
My bat twirls once again in my hands, as I line up the shot. Feet rooted, shoulders back, grip tight, but not too tight, I exhale and the world simply becomes a point in space just beyond the poor sap's noggin.
It's a swing and a miss. One strike down and I have to call a time out.
There is a head. In that head, is a skull. In that skull, is a brain. On the other side of the equation, is a hand. In that hand, is a bat. And when said bat meets said head, the brain, through the transitive property, should be scrambled. But the bat didn't meet the head, despite the both of them occupying the same space at the same time, one of which was traveling at a ludicrous speed.
So, a brain has not been scrambled, no connection was made and my hand can't seem to touch him. It's like poking a cloud, although I would figure a cloud would at least start to morph and shift around an intruding digit. I am confused. I hit the apparition one more time, right between the legs, just to be sure. There is no contact, so I move onto phase two of my plan. Each and every one of the thumbs now has their safeties on. They were pointing guns at me and my girlfriend. I do not think they realize how dangerous that could be. They are not responsible gun owners. Their fingers are even on the triggers. Never held a gun in my life, but I at least understand the concept of trigger discipline.
Riot has me by her side again like nothing ever happened. I am smiling like I was there the whole time. Color comes back with the movement of the second hand, benefiting some more than others.
"So, Azure's a ghost or something," I whisper, "Is there anything he can actually do to us?"
"Oh, I can do plenty, foul villain," says Riot in a surprisingly masculine voice. I like it, oddly enough. It fits her. Something to consider once this is all said and done.
There is a punch to my stomach and I don't like that sort of thing. It hurts, and I don't like things that hurt. But it has happened to me and there is no point in dwelling on the past. It is not a Riot punch though. That would be a smidgen more uncomfortable. I just have to deal with a normal punch from a rather fit man. Who looks like an incredibly attractive woman who I have had relations with. Something else to consider when it is all said and done.
The pull of the gray world does not come to me. It is too far gone. Not enough tribute in the land of color and hue to lend it all the strength it needs. But I have time. Even now, I am a man with a blunt object. That is more than a man without. I hear a series of clicks scatter through the silent grass and I realize my tricks worked after all. I am glad I did that. They really didn't know how dangerous their toys can be.
