Read Online Sidekick: The Misadventures of the New Scarlet Knight by Pab Sungenis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Pab Sungenis
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I’d ever held, like it was a part of me. With a heavy heart, I went to return it to its maker.
And I would have, too, if the door hadn’t chosen that minute to explode.
The room filled with smoke and panic—in that order. Reflexively, I shielded my face, expecting splinters from the door or shards of glass from a window to fly forward, but after a few seconds, and none of the expected pain, I lowered my forearm and squinted against the spreading smoke.
My brain cycled through all the villains Uncle Jack and I had fought, trying to figure out who would enter like that. We’d dealt with a lot of creeps who like to shake down and rob little operations like the Forge, but none of them ever arrived in a puff of smoke.
The air cleared, and I was able to get a good look at the newcomer. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him before.
He was slightly shorter than me and covered in black from head to toe. Even his face was completely covered in ultra-fine mesh fabric. The costume wasn’t as tight as most I’d seen, but it was snug enough not to trip him in the heat of action. A red sash tied around his waist served as a belt of sorts with a sack tucked over it. A jewel robber, not exactly something new here in Harbor City, but something was different about this one.
“Attention!” The robber’s voice was tinny and artificial, probably from one of those electronic voice-modifier thingies toy stores sell. “Do what you are told and no one will get hurt. I want you to … ”
By that point, the smoke had cleared enough that we could both see each other clearly. At first, I couldn’t figure out why the sight of me would stop him mid-sentence; I wasn’t in uniform, so he couldn’t have known who I was.
Then it hit me. When the explosion went off, I had reflexively assumed a defensive posture—with a sword in my hand. So this robber, who had just said no one would get hurt if they didn’t screw with him, found himself confronted by a kid wielding a sword as if ready to lop his head off.
So much for cooperation.
“Get out of here!” I screamed to the customers and the shopkeeper. “Back door, if there is one. Call 911 once you’re safely away. I’ll hold him off.”
They didn’t move.
“ NOW !” I had no way of knowing where the lung capacity for such a shout came from, but it was enough to scare the bystanders into action. The customers clambered over each other to get as far away from the robber (or the lunatic teenager with the sword) as their feet could take them. The blacksmith, apparently unwilling to part with his baby, just ducked behind the counter.
“I don’t know who you are,” I told the interloper, “and I’m really not in a mood to find out, especially after the day I’ve had. So why don’t you just pop out of here, and we’ll call it … ”
I froze as the robber reached into one of his pockets (another advantage the getup had over the usual super-guy costume). I got enough of a hint of cheekbones under the thick black nothing of his mask to be pretty sure he was smiling. He pulled out something that looked like an old TV remote with …
You have got to be shitting me .
I recognized it immediately, even before he pushed the button that caused the blade to shoot out of the base to its full length.
That bastard had the Scarlet Knight’s sword. That bastard was wielding a weapon he had taken off Uncle Jack’s body.
That bastard was the man who had killed my Uncle Jack.
Secret Origins
Seeing the Scarlet Knight’s sword in this bozo’s hands brought on a flood of memories, starting with the first time I’d ever seen it and working backward from there, like my life flashing before my eyes in reverse.
My mother wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the world if you want to use objective measures, but every boy is blind where his mother is concerned. What I remember the most is that she was warm, and when her arms were around me, nothing in the world could hurt me. That’s how I
And I would have, too, if the door hadn’t chosen that minute to explode.
The room filled with smoke and panic—in that order. Reflexively, I shielded my face, expecting splinters from the door or shards of glass from a window to fly forward, but after a few seconds, and none of the expected pain, I lowered my forearm and squinted against the spreading smoke.
My brain cycled through all the villains Uncle Jack and I had fought, trying to figure out who would enter like that. We’d dealt with a lot of creeps who like to shake down and rob little operations like the Forge, but none of them ever arrived in a puff of smoke.
The air cleared, and I was able to get a good look at the newcomer. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him before.
He was slightly shorter than me and covered in black from head to toe. Even his face was completely covered in ultra-fine mesh fabric. The costume wasn’t as tight as most I’d seen, but it was snug enough not to trip him in the heat of action. A red sash tied around his waist served as a belt of sorts with a sack tucked over it. A jewel robber, not exactly something new here in Harbor City, but something was different about this one.
“Attention!” The robber’s voice was tinny and artificial, probably from one of those electronic voice-modifier thingies toy stores sell. “Do what you are told and no one will get hurt. I want you to … ”
By that point, the smoke had cleared enough that we could both see each other clearly. At first, I couldn’t figure out why the sight of me would stop him mid-sentence; I wasn’t in uniform, so he couldn’t have known who I was.
Then it hit me. When the explosion went off, I had reflexively assumed a defensive posture—with a sword in my hand. So this robber, who had just said no one would get hurt if they didn’t screw with him, found himself confronted by a kid wielding a sword as if ready to lop his head off.
So much for cooperation.
“Get out of here!” I screamed to the customers and the shopkeeper. “Back door, if there is one. Call 911 once you’re safely away. I’ll hold him off.”
They didn’t move.
“ NOW !” I had no way of knowing where the lung capacity for such a shout came from, but it was enough to scare the bystanders into action. The customers clambered over each other to get as far away from the robber (or the lunatic teenager with the sword) as their feet could take them. The blacksmith, apparently unwilling to part with his baby, just ducked behind the counter.
“I don’t know who you are,” I told the interloper, “and I’m really not in a mood to find out, especially after the day I’ve had. So why don’t you just pop out of here, and we’ll call it … ”
I froze as the robber reached into one of his pockets (another advantage the getup had over the usual super-guy costume). I got enough of a hint of cheekbones under the thick black nothing of his mask to be pretty sure he was smiling. He pulled out something that looked like an old TV remote with …
You have got to be shitting me .
I recognized it immediately, even before he pushed the button that caused the blade to shoot out of the base to its full length.
That bastard had the Scarlet Knight’s sword. That bastard was wielding a weapon he had taken off Uncle Jack’s body.
That bastard was the man who had killed my Uncle Jack.
Secret Origins
Seeing the Scarlet Knight’s sword in this bozo’s hands brought on a flood of memories, starting with the first time I’d ever seen it and working backward from there, like my life flashing before my eyes in reverse.
My mother wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the world if you want to use objective measures, but every boy is blind where his mother is concerned. What I remember the most is that she was warm, and when her arms were around me, nothing in the world could hurt me. That’s how I
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