Gods and Punks

Gods and Punks

Mark A Davis

280

Once again the city owes a debt of gratitude to our local hero Grandpa Anarchy, who foiled a bank robbery this afternoon.  With the aid of his current sidekick Highsis, the two confronted would-be thief the Trauma Queen, a chainsaw-wielding young woman who held police at bay at the First National Bank of Frosthaven earlier today....


Grandpa Anarchy, world's oldest hero, slammed on the brakes of his Austin Martin.  He pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the car radio.  In a nearby alley, collapsed against a wall, was an old man in a filthy outfit that could best be described as that of a demonic pope.  There were red and black robes with skull motifs where one might normally find crosses, and a tall pope's hat with a skull mask.  Everything about the costume was old and worn, with the paint chipping away, like a derilect clown from a theme park closed for decades.

"That's Holy Terror," Grandpa Anarchy exclaimed.  "I fought him dozens of times!  I'd recognize that evil face anywhere!"

Grandpa was dressed in his usual rumpled gray suit with the silver anarchy symbol stitched in silver over the left breast.  In the passenger seat sat Highsis, dressed like an ancient Egyptian princess in a white shift dress with a short skirt.  She had dark skin, braided black hair, and wore a wide Wesekh collar of gold and turquoise beads.  A distinctive amulet on a circlet of gold crowned her forehead.

Highsis took a long puff on her cigarette.  "You can't actually see his face," she said languidly.  "It's hidden by the mask."

"Right!" Grandpa exclaimed.  "The mask!  That's how you know it's him!"

Highsis checked her phone.  "Hmmm.  Holy Terror, huh?  Looks like he tried to conquer the world a few times...."

"He did!" Grandpa exclaimed.  "Back in the 70's and early 80's.  I haven't seen him in a coo... well, a long time."  Grandpa jumped out of the car.  "What's he doing lying in an alleyway, is what I want to know."

As Grandpa strode towards the vagabond villain, Highsis called out, "Grandpa!  This is one of your old arch villains!  He could be dangerous!"

"Nah, he's harmless," Grandpa replied over his shoulder.  "Look at him!  Down on  his luck.  Besides, helping the downtrodden is also a hero's duty!"

The man in the robes and mask stared up at him.  He clutched a bottle in a brown bag, which he waved at Grandpa.  "Grandpa Anarchy!" he exclaimed.  "You miserable ass!  Come to gloat at my misfortune?  Come to mock me in the hour of my greatest defeat?  How very much like you, you pompous, two-faced do-gooder!"

"Actually," said Grandpa, "I was going to offer you a meal and a place to sleep."

***

Grandpa Anarchy watched as his former foe greedily devoured mashed potatoes and fried chicken.  The pope hat and mask had been set to one side.  The man's hands were filth-covered.  The stench that emanated from him filled the small kitchen.

"You can stay here the night," Grandpa said.  "Lord knows we've got enough spare rooms in this place.  Tomorrow I'll see what we can do to get you a new place to stay.  There's charities that can help out -- even for an old villain like you."

"I still say this is dangerous and stupid," said Highsis from the doorway.  "Inviting one of your old foes into your house for dinner?  What's to stop him from killing you in your sleep?"

"Holy Terror never killed no one," Grandpa replied.  "Except Scavenger Boy, and that was an accident.  Also Snowflake Behavior, but she was kind of mentally fragile anyway and flipped out at the wrong time...."

"Never understood why you worked with an Aryan witch anyway," Holy Terror muttered.  "I thought all of you heroes were against Nazis big-time."

"Grandpa, he killed two of your sidekicks?" Highsis replied, shocked.

"Snowflake Behavior wasn't a Nazi per se," Grandpa said.  "And Highsis, I said those were accidents.  He's mostly harmless."

Grandpa!" exclaimed Highsis.  "His nickname is the Pope of Pain!"

"My point exactly!" Grandpa replied.  "He's the Pope of Pain -- not the Pope of Murder and Dismemberment.  See the difference?  The former doesn't actually involve killing anyone, and it's also nicely alliterative -- always an important point in this business.  Not to mention he always kind of oversold the whole pain bit... the most pain he ever subjected me to was his long monologues about how he was going to take over the world.  He was more the Pope of Discomfort if you ask me."

"Also not alliterative," the Holy Terror noted.  "You ask me, the art of the monologue is what's missing in your modern villains.  This Kid Calculus, does he monologue?  Death Medal?  Not half as well as I used to, I'll bet!  I practiced for hours every day in front of the mirror just so I could get it right when we were in the middle of a battle!  True monologuing is an art form!  You need to practice it!"

"Dang straight!" Grandpa exclaimed.  He stared at the washed-up villain.  "What happened to you, Holy Terror?  You were one of the best at being bad.  You were always on top of the world -- or at least trying to be -- I was always there to stop you, of course...."

The villain scowled.  "I don't want to talk about it," he said.

"Now that don't sound like the Holy Terror I remember," Grandpa said.  "Nobody could monologue like you.  Everyone's heard about the day you out-talked Captain Monologue himself!"

The Holy Terror's scowl deepened.  He spread his hands wide.  "Isn't this what you always thought of me, Grandpa Anarchy?  Isn't this what you always expected to see?  A drunken has-been in a garish costume, barely surviving amid the street grime.  From the very beginning I had to claw my way up from the sewers, and nobody gave me any credit for that -- instead the whole world mocked me!  You hated me, you feared me!  You doubted me!  But I was this close to redemption, this close to snatching the world from the hands of the privileged.  Oh how I would have relished that moment!  But you, Grandpa Anarchy, you beat me back at every opportunity!  I live in a cesspool now because of you!"

"Now, it ain't like that," said Grandpa.  "Sure, I beat you.  Can't have villains and their death rays taking over the world -- what kind of a place would this be if we allowed that?"

"Need I remind you that our mayor is a former supervillain?" Highsis added.

"Well, okay," said Grandpa, "point taken.  You know, your real problem, Terror, is that you were always flying solo.  You're a demonic pope!  You should have an entourage!  You should have followers!  You should be a man of the people!"

"Always hated people," said the Holy Terror.  "That's why I'm a villain."

"That's how Judge Doomhollow survived, you know," Grandpa said.  "He always had a criminal syndicate beneath him -- one of the most vicious in  town.  When he decided to -- well, I wouldn't call it reform exactly -- but when he decided to get a legitimate job, he used his crime gang to help get elected.  He turned it into a party machine.  That's why he's been mayor of this town for almost forty years."

Holy Terror sniffed.  "That wannabe?  He couldn't hack being a true villain!  When the going got tough, he turned tail and ran!"

"Well, he's mayor," said Highsis, "and you're just a homeless drunk in a costume."

"That's right," said Grandpa.  "He bought the vote, just like any normal politician.  He followed the rules.  He didn't come storming in with his death ray and usurp things -- mostly because when he tried doing that I stopped him.  You should learn from his example, Holy  Terror -- heroes have a hard time opposing you if you get elected first."

Ignoring Grandpa, the villain stared at HighSis.  "What's your shtick, anyway?" he asked.  "Highsis?  What kind of a name is that?"

The young woman touched the amulet at her forehead.  "This is the Pufmost Amulet,  given to Queen and Pharaoh Hatshepsut by the goddess Isis herself.  I am her descendant and I wield power through this amulet -- the power to summon the best marijuana cigarettes in the world.  They transform me into the hero Highsis."

The villain's eyes narrowed.  "Mary Jane?  Really?  What's the world coming to when Grandpa Anarchy's sidekick is a dopehead?"

"I take whoever Jay sends to me," Grandpa replied.  "She is super strong, and she can fly and do other cool things.

"Hey," Grandpa added after a moment.  "I've got a crackerjack idea!  I bet I could get you a job with city hall!  Mayor Doomhollow is big on reforming criminals, in his own way of course.  I'm certain he will give you a chance.  As the hero of this town, he listens to me -- it's kind of a weird relationship."

"Don't want no job," Holy Terror mumbled.  "Want to rule the world."

"Well you gotta start somewhere," said Grandpa, "and having a roof over your head and something to eat every day is the place to start."

***

Two weeks later, looking much better in a clean suit and tie, the villain known as the Holy Terror smiled.  "The mayor signed me up for A.A. meetings," he said.  "He's paying for everything!  He even helped set me up in a lair -- I mean an apartment."

"That's great," Grandpa replied.  He and his sidekick were seated before the villain's desk in city hall.

"You were right, Grandpa!" the Holy Terror continued.  "The mayor explained to me how being a supervillain and being a public servant aren't incompatible goals.   He's going to help me put my life back together, just so long as I keep sober and do my job.  And the best part is that I can incorporate my villainy into my new job as Secretary to the Minister of Community Development and Public Works"

The Holy Terror lifted a paper from his desk.  "That brings us to your new application for an improved submarine tunnel access to your lair....."

"Not a lair.  It's a base beneath the mansion," said Grandpa Anarchy.  "The Anarchy Cave.  Heros have bases.  Villains have lairs."

The villain raised an eyebrow.  "Whatever," he said.  "I think you know the drill."  He paused to don his pope hat and skull mask.  "If you want approval for this project, Grandpa Anarchy," he boomed, "you will have to defeat... the Holy  Terror!  Are you ready, Grandpa Anarchy?  I've prepared a monologue!"

Highsis sighed.  "I knew helping him was a bad idea," she muttered.

FINI