Name That Hero

The story below was inspired by my recent thinking about superheroes and by Chad Rohrbacher's Gischler Write-Off flash fiction contest, where the prizes are Gischler's work on Deadpool comics and a copy of his new novel, The Deputy.

I already bought a copy of The Deputy, I'm not a Deadpool fan, and I'm too late to enter the contest, so I've decided to post the story here for your enjoyment:


H-Bomb

by Gerald So


Indy71342: Still in for Kick-Ass tomorrow?

HuhWhaDoug: Sorry, dude. My car's in the shop.

Indy71342: No prob. Died again?

HuhWhaDoug: Yup.

Henry Cordoba remembered the night his friend Doug's Oldsmobile five years ago. He felt lucky not to have been in the car this time, but sorry for Doug.

Indy71342: :)

HuhWhaDoug: Speaking of that, I should hit the road in case I need to walk home from the station tonight. I'll talk to you later.

Indy71342: Bye.

Just as Doug signed off, the phone in Henry's room rang. Henry checked the Caller ID: His brother Chris's work number.

"Have you seen my watch?" Chris asked.

"No."

"I took it off last night, but I can't remember where. I hope I didn't leave it on the train."

"I'll look for it."

"Not if you're too busy."

"I'm not."

"Thanks."

Henry checked Chris's room first. It always looked ransacked, the desk piled with fifteen-year-old video game boxes, the table buried in clothes. Henry didn't dare move too many things around. Chris had a system, of course, and who knew what would upset it?

Henry went to the basement, which was also mostly Chris's domain. Chris left a lamp with a 13-watt fluorescent bulb on day and night to find his way around. Reaching Chris's computer room/TV room, Henry flipped the light switch, but the room stayed dark.

Luckily, Henry had excellent night vision. Sidestepping Chris's elliptical walker, hopscotching cables and joysticks, he spotted the glowing hands of Chris's watch.

Returning to his room, Henry IM'd Chris at work:


Indy71342: I found your watch.

LyteMyFire99: Phew. Thanks. :)

Indy71342: By the way, the bulbs in your room downstairs are busted.


Henry closed the IM window and the browser window in which he'd been checking Kick-Ass showtimes.

He dug a memo pad and pen out of his desk drawer and began writing:

Preternatural night vision
Agility
Can't drive

Nightwalker.
H-Bomb.

H-Bomb.


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