Opening Book (IC)

[Bishop]

September 2, 2011 6:25 am.

"What, you thought you could rip us off?!" The tall hooldum wearing a denim jacket kicked the scrawny teenage kid one more time who laid curled up in a fetal position on the street.

There was no traffic in this West End neighborhood this early in the morning. The boy's bicycle lay on the curb with a bent up rim. The teenage boy was dressed expensively: new, stylish shoes and a white jacket, which was now torn and bloodied. A second young street thug stood by, holding an open bank bag and counting the money inside. He wore mirrored shades even in this pre-dawn light.

Zzzzzzut

"You little punk, you better come up with a lot more the next --"

"Ahem."

The two young hoods turned to the voice just 20' behind them and saw an older man in a bold black-and-white patterned costume. Half his face was covered with a metalic mask. He held a metal, ball-tipped stick in his right hand and tapped it gently on his left sholder, his arms crossed in front of him.

Denim Jacket turned from the boy on the ground and faced the man, looking him up and down. "Wha? Who the hell are you!?"

"I'm the superhero who's about to ruin your day."

"Man..." Denim Jacket picked up a baseball bat he had laying to the side. "Superhero, my ass!" He held up the baseball bat in a threatening posture. "You wanna piece of this?! You best be rollin' up on outta hea'!"

Mirror Shades calmly zipped up the bag, stuffed it under his armpit, and just held up his hands in a surrendering manner. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Dawg, you be trippin'," he said to Denim Jacket. "Can't you see this dude's a Cape? Just chill."

"Yeah? He ain't got no cape! And I'm 'bout to bust that shiny head o' his!"

Mirror Shades looked back to Bishop. "Dude, I ain't never seen you 'round this neighborhood. What you doin' down here, anyhow? Shoudn't you be uptown rescuing cats from trees or some sh*t?" That got a giggle from Denim Jacket.

"I couldn't sleep," Bishop replied matter-of-factly. Denim Jacket was still bobbing, holding the bat at the ready, itching to take a swing.

Mirror Shades cocked his head. "Huh?"

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep. So, I went out on patrol. Nothing better to do," he said with a shrug. "Sure, other times of day probably would have been better for finding a bank robbery to foil, or a burning building to pull orphans out of, maybe." He smiled and added, "or even kittens to rescue from trees." He took the scepter off his shoulder and patted the palm of his hand with it. "But, you take them as they come. So, here I am, about to trash a couple of punks instead."

"Aww, F**K YOU!" yelled Demim Jacket as he stepped forward and took a swing at Bishop's head. The black-and-white clad hero stood unmoving. But, at the last moment, he shimmered slightly and was instantly just a few inches out of range of the bat, which wiffed harmlessly in front of his face.

[Bishop]

"Maybe you should listen to your friend, 'Dawg.'"

"I'm gonna pop that mouth out the back o' yo' skull!" Denim Jacket took another swing at Bishop. The crime-fighting chessmaster shimmered again. Zzzzzut. But, this time, appeared right behind the crazy bat-swinging thug and jabbed his scepter into Denim Jacket's kidney. Now it was Denim Jacket's turn to shimmer slightly, but he didn't go anywhere. Instead, he suddenly clutched his stomach and looked like he was going to throw up.

The teenage boy in the white jacket had picked himself up off the ground slowly and was brushing himself off. Mirror Shades just shook his head again. "Now, see? I told ya' dumb ass! Ya' don't mess with capes like that!"

Denim Jacket retched. "What th' hell?! What ya' do ta me?"

"I teleported you. Well... almost teleported you. That little half-shift really messes the insides up, doesn't it? Don't worry, though. It'll pass. You'll be okay, just stay off solid foods a while."

Mirror Shades sneered at Bishop. "Yo, Cape, you can go pop away now, hear? What we gots here is just a little misunderstandin' is all. It ain't no thing, right Midas?" he asked the teen. Midas just glared back.

"The deal was half, Chill. Half! Not all the money. Half."

"Thing's change, Midas. The deal change. Don't like it, take it up with Snake," replied Chill. Bishop calmly stepped up to Chill and slipped the bank bag out from under his arm, then tossed it to Midas.

"I take it that's yours, 'Midas?'" The teen nodded. "And, let me guess... you don't want me to call the cops on your two... 'friends' here, right?"

"No, man... it's cool. No cops," replied Midas.

"Is that money from selling drugs or what?" asked Bishop, though not accusingly. Midas looked disgusted at the suggestion.

"Psssh... man... I don't deal no dope!" he said loudly, more at the two thugs than the superhero. "Dope's for chumps like these two. I'm a business man. That's why they call me 'Midas.' What I touch turns to gold!" Midas said with a self-satisfied smile which showed off two gold-capped teeth.

"But, you have some kind of deal with these two... gentlemen?"

"Yeah, see... it's like this, Chief. I own a bunch of vending machines." Midas sensed some degree of skepticism from Bishop. "No, fo' real! I got 'em all over town! Been buyin' them broke, fixin' them up, and settin' them up in all kinds o' places. Been doin' that since I was twelve.

"Well, I got me some machines in Snake's territory, see. You don't see many vending machine down in the 'hood. Know why? They get trashed, money taken out of 'em, but people still want their cold drinks and sh*t, right?

"So, I made me a deal. Yeah, see, I give Snake and his boys half the money from those machines. HALF!" he spit out at 'Chill,' and continued "Yeah... then they don't trash my sh*t, and don't let nobody else trash it either, see?"

"Yes, Midas, I think I see. So, what do you want now? Want me to leave so they can finish kicking the crap out of you and take your money again?"

"*Tsk* Man, I can deal with it."

Bishop did his best to suppress his amusement as he looked the dirty, disheveled, bruised and bleeding youth up and down. "Yeah... you seem to be handling it just fine."

"You heard Midas, super-guy, so why don't you just jet now?" injected Chill.

Bishop holstered the scepter on his belt. "You know... I think I have a better idea..."

[Bishop]

Bishop folded his arms across his chest and looked up, his one eye scanning as if he was reading something written in the sky. "Here's the deal, Chill. You see, I know a lot about you. I mean a lot about you."

Chill started looking nervous. He scratched his nose. "What -- What you talkin' about?"

"Well, I know you've been selling drugs." Bishop shrugged. "Not hard to guess, I suppose. But, I know you like to sell in front of the convenience store on the corner of Williams St. and 38th."

"Wait... wait..."

"Yeah, I also know a bunch of your friends. 'Hitter,' I guess that's the genius who threw up all over his shoes here. 'Snake,' of course, and 'Big - G.' I know a lot about your friends.... and I know you have a pretty nasty girlfriend, Chill. She likes to send you... 'interesting'... pictures."

"Wait! Stop it, man!"

"Two girlfriends? Huh... I wonder how much they know about each other..."

"Stop! Okay, man! I get it!"

"Do you, Chill? Because I want to make something very clear. Midas here? He's under my protection. If anyone messes with him or his stuff, I'm holding you responsible."

"Wait a minute! But-"

"That's right, Chill. If anyone messes with him... you better come to the rescue. You better be his knight in shining armor, you get me? If you don't, Chill... I can make your life... unpleasant."

Chill raised his hands in capitulation. "Okay, man... okay. Midas is safe, man. He's safe." Chill tugged on 'Hitter's' arm. "Let's jet, Dawg. We done hea'."

"Aww, man," Hitter groaned. "I think I'm going to throw up again."

After the two thugs hobbled away, Bishop turned to Midas. "Well, Midas, good to meet you. I'm called Bishop."

"Oh, like the chess piece, right?" Bishop nodded in reply. Midas straightened up, winced in pain and held his side. With his other hand, he gestured at Bishop's outfit. "So, that costume, you're some kind of super, like, chess man or something?"

"Something like that. Come on, let's get you cleaned up and on your way."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Say, Mr. B, how did you know all that about Chill? You can read minds and sh*t, too?"

Bishop chuckled. "No, not quite. I can tap into computers. Chill had a smart phone in his pocket, and it seems he likes to text a lot..."

About 15 minutes later, Chill and Hitter were approaching their gang's hangout. "Man, Hitta', what I tell you 'bout messin' with Capes? Nothin' but trouble. And you actin' like you think you Black Avenger or somthin'. Man, you ignorant. I can't bel-" Chill was interrupted in his tirade by his cell phone beeping. "Hold on. Got a text."

Chill pulled out his phone and read the latest message: Remember. Knight in shining armor. I'm watching. - Bishop.

[Bishop]

9:23 a.m. Philadelphia

Later that morning, Bishop was standing in front of a row house on South Clarion Street in Philadelphia. He was in “civilian†attire as other superheroes called it: ordinary clothes – old jeans and a blue plaid long-sleeve shirt. I have to stop thinking about things in terms of “what the real superheroes do.†I am a superhero now.

He wasn’t even wearing his mask. He felt naked and vulnerable without it. He had gotten accustomed to its constant stream of information; and the wealth of data it tapped in to was intoxicating. Instead of his mask, an eye-patch covered the data-port in his right eye socket. Right now, he wasn’t "Bishop the crime-fighting super chess master." He was just Donovan Kross – “regular†chess master.

A sign by the door read “Clarion Chess Club.†The converted row house had been his home-away-from-home for years, but now he hesitated to open the door. He hadn’t been there since before the fire. He had resigned his presidency of the club by telephone, and that was over a month ago. How would they react to seeing him now? Would there even be anyone he knew today? Maybe he should have called the office first. Mike would have answered. Probably. What would Donovan have said if he did? Donovan took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside.

[Bishop]

Mismatched chairs and hardwood tables were spaced evenly throughout the downstairs area. A couple of threadbare sofas, some small corner-nook bookcases, and landscape paintings in cheap frames gave the place a “homey†feel. There were five games of chess being played at five different tables. The players looked at Donovan out of the corners of their eyes and he could hear their quiet murmurs. He recognized a couple of the players, but the others were new. It was strange to see so many players on a weekday morning, but the person he most came to see was upstairs.

Donovan made his way up the carpeted stairs to the office. Mike was sitting at his desk, watching news on a small TV in the corner. He sat in a high-backed leather office chair with a broken wheel that was badly patched up. The office, like the downstairs, was furnished with an eclectic assortment of antique and second-hand furniture.

The years since high school hadn’t been as kind to Mike. He’d lost a lot of hair and gained a lot of pounds. He had a reputation at the club as being gruff, and lately he’d been particularly sullen. But when turned to see Donovan in the doorway, his face lit up. “Don?! Good Lord, man!â€

[Bishop]

“Hey, Mike.†Don replied with a sheepish grin.

Mike jumped from his chair and gave Donovan a big hug and pat on the back. “Where the hell have you been?! I haven’t seen ya since the funeral! Carol’s been worried sick, no way to reach you...â€

“I know, man. I’m sorry. It’s just been… complicated.†Donovan sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. Mike went around to a small refrigerator under the TV.

“I don’t think it being complicated’s the problem, Donnie,†he answered while pulling a couple of beers from the ‘fridge. “You do complicated just fine. That big brain of yours loves complicated. It’s the simple stuff you can’t handle so well.â€

“This again?†Don said exasperatedly.

“Yeah, this again! And you’re going to hear me out, Donnie!†Mike opened the beers and handed one to his friend, then sat in the chair next to Donovan. He then continued in a softer voice. “It is simple. You lost your family. You’re hurt about as much as anyone can be hurt. Of course you are. You think you’re life’s over, so you ditch everything. This is simple stuff, Don -- painful stuff, but simple, and you just don’t know what to do with it.â€

“No, Mike, it’s not like that!â€

“Isn’t it?â€

“I have superpowers, now, Mike. I have new burdens. New responsibilities.â€

Mike shook his head sympathetically. “Donnie, I’m not talking about that,†he said, then took a swig of his beer. “Look… I saw the interview you did on Good Morning Philadelphia last week. Hell, everyone here saw it. Those new guys down stairs?†He said, gesturing to the door with his beer. “You should’ve seen it here just a couple days ago! It was a madhouse! Everyone hanging around hoping to get a look at – what did he call you? ‘Philly's latest local boy turned superhero?’

“And you’re right about why you have to be a superhero now, I think. I think Melinda and Julia would have expected it of you, just like you said. But going public, man… you didn’t have to do that. You know most supers don’t. But you did. Want to know why?â€

“I have my reasons, Mike. Reasons I can’t really get in to right now.â€

“No, Don, I’ll tell you why: because you think Don’s dead. You think your life as Donovan Kross is over. It’s only ‘Bishop’ now. You as much as said so in that interview, Don. You said you didn’t have a normal life you cared to maintain anymore. Come on, Don. That’s why you haven’t been around. This life is over to you.â€

“No… no, Mike.†Donovan shook his head slowly. He sat quietly for a moment and took a sip of his beer. Then he shrugged. “I mean… okay…. yeah. I did, but I was wrong. I still think going public was the right thing to do, and I do have sound reasons for doing so that I honestly can’t go into… but you’re right. Dealing with… with everything that’s happened… I don’t know. I just wanted to start fresh, I guess.†He the added with a wry grin, “The new, improved, “super-Don,†ready to right all the world’s wrongs.â€

“Hey, Don, it’s been hard on all of us, you know? I’d known Melinda just as long as you. She and Carol were about as close friends as you and me. Julia was like a daughter to me, Don. You know that.†Mike let out a big sigh, and smiled. “Look, I’m not trying to bust your balls or anything. Just… you know… don’t forget I’ve got your back.â€

“So, you still have my back, Mike?â€

“Of course! Damn, man… who had your back when those Russian players slipped you some LSD at that Munich tournament?â€

“Yeah, yeah, that was you.â€

“Damn straight it was me. I’ve always been there, Don. Always.â€

“I’m glad to hear it. Because I need you, that’s for sure.â€

Mike sat back in his chair. “What’s on your mind, Brother?â€

[Bishop]

“Just this morning, I busted up a crime in progress. I was floating around in the sky, looking for trouble. I saw what looked like a mugging of some sort. A couple of street thugs knocked a kid off his bike, took a bag of money from him, and started beating the crap out of him. So, I intervene, put a stop to it with… well… a ‘discreet application of violence.’ Anyway, the immediate problem was solved, but I realized I was way out of my element.â€

“What do you mean?â€

“Well, supers call that ‘street-level crime-fighting.’ I never really appreciated all the nuances to it. Guys like Foreshadow make it look easy. But, there are a lot of complexities I didn’t take into account until I had to deal with them on the spot. I mean, what happens after I leave? The kid I ‘saved’ wasn’t necessarily safe, even if I hauled the ‘bad guys’ off to jail. They’ve got friends, the kid’s got family. And what’s worse… the guys there? Even the kid? They all knew I was out of my element.â€

Mike chuckled. “I would have paid to see that! So… what did you do?â€

“Well, basically, I took on an obligation to watch over this kid. It’s not like I mind, really. He seems like a good kid, but… is that the way it’s going to be every time? How many kids or innocent people in general, how many of them can I take personal responsibility for?â€

Mike mulled it over for a while as he sipped his beer. "You know, it’s too bad there’s not an Opening Book for Superheroes, right? In chess, you stick to the opening book for your first few moves or so, right? Just follow the memorized patterns: ‘you move here, then if he moves there, you move over there.’ I guess being a super isn’t like that.â€

Donovan gave a wry smile. “No, I guess it isn’t.â€

“You’re just going to have to muddle through,†Mike shrugged. “Just like everyone else. Even if you don’t have all the answers, at least you’re smart enough to fake it! Look, Don, you already know the answer to your dilemma. It’s a simple answer, which is why your complicated brain has trouble seeing it. But you said the answer yourself during your interview. Live true to your values and do the best you can do. I think what you told that young girl was pretty spot on, too: the important things are usually simple and obvious. Pretty ironic coming from you, actually.â€

Donovan rolled his eyes. “Alright, smartass. You made your point.â€

“Bottom line is: there's nothing wrong with what you did. You saw something that had to be done, and you did it. You couldn't just fly around and watch that happen without doing something, right? So, you were out of your element or whatever. You did what you had to do."

Donovan nodded. "Thanks, Mike."

"And, hey, where are you staying? Some hotel or something? You know that won’t do! Carol would have my balls if I don’t get you to come to our house and at least spend the night, you know.â€

Don leaned forward and put his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Okay, Mike. For Carol… and for the safety of your balls… I’ll be there.†After they chuckled a bit, he sat back in his chair and finished off his beer. “While I’m here, I’ve got some ideas I want to run by you. I think you might be interested.†Then he added with a sly grin, “Since they involve you and the club...â€