He launched himself gracefully from the roof, executing a double gainer and landing firm on him feet in front of the crook.
“And where do you think you’re going young man?” He said in his authoritative voice, the voice he used when he said ‘Don’t do drugs kids’ or ‘Remember, kids, eat five servings of fruits and vegetables everyday’.
The robber didn’t look impressed. His bag of stolen items jangled on his shoulder and the criminal said nothing. He pulled out a stick from his back pocket, it grew and branched and sparked.
“You really should just give yourself up right now. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Up yours Turtle man!” The robber said. He swung his bag around and tossed it at Captain Tortoise who deftly dodged it with a forward roll. The robber swung down with his wand and connected.
The Captain’s body went rigid mid punch and he fell over, there’s no arguing with 50,000 volts. Parts of the wand broke off and stuck to the captain’s suit. Even with his athletic prowes Captain Tortoise found it hard to concentrate. The robber was getting away and he couldn’t move a muscle.
After a moment the electricity in the device gave out, but by then the thief was long gone and the Captain was quite depressed. He readjusted his spandex suit and iconic armor, pulling out bits of the theif’s device. He limped to the brick wall, still in the shadow, and pulled out his pocket sized police scanner.
Just then he heard the wailing of a child. That wasn’t reason alone to go check it out. Kids cried all the time in the city, for a variety of reasons. And there’s no reason to do people’s parenting for them. This cry however sounded worse. Not ‘Mommy I want a bike!’, but more ‘Daddy stop beating me!’
Captain Tortoise shot his grappling gun up the opposite wall and climbed up the brownstone. The kid was still crying so it was easy to tell where it was coming from, the top floor. He flipped down his infrared goggles and peered into the darkened window. The room was awash in heat, one great pool on the floor and a child sized blob to the size. ‘Murder!’ he thought.
He pulled himself up to the top of the building, rewound his grappling hook and used it to get to the other side. He lowered himself down to the fire escape and opened the window. As it creaked in protest he noticed that the screaming had repeated its self and that it was a bit too loud. But too late, a sharp pain pierced the side of his neck and he was out.
He finally came to, groggy and confused. He strained at his bonds before he opened his eyes. He heard a light buzzing from the table he was strapped to and doubled his efforts trying to escape. As he tried to thrash around he took in the scene. He was in a warehouse, high ceilings and massive iron buttressing, probably at the docks, so only a good ten fifteen minutes away. That meant it was probably someone local with a grudge.
“Well well well, so glad to have you up and at ‘em. Eh Captain?” Came a lilting voice from off to the side.
“I’d know that despicable voice anywhere. It’s the BeeKeeper! I thought you were still in prison.” Captain Tortoise said triumphantly.
“I was, he he he. Now you die.”
“Wait, aren’t you going to tell me about your dastardly plans?”
“I just did.”
“What?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“That’s it?”
“Of course that’s it. You’re a pain in the ass and not a very good super hero.”
“Super? I’m not super. I’m just a hero. And this city needs a hero.”
“Maybe, but it’s not you.”
“Now wait a second, what’s your beef with me?”
The BeeKeeper moved into The Captain’s view in his brilliant white bee keeping jacket and matte black mesh hat. He pointed an accusing finger at the Captain. “My beef with you? Are you an idiot? You’re a hero and I’m a bad guy. This is grade school stuff.”
“No wait.”
“No more waiting.” The BeeKeeper clapped his hands together and there was a mechanical clicking sound from somewhere close. The table that the Captain was strapped to began to split down the middle and bees poured out from behind him.
“No! Not the bees, I’m allergic.” The Captain cried.
“I know.” The BeeKeeper said smugly. “Goodbye.” And he walked off as angry bees swarmed around the captain and stung him mercilessly.
The Captain’s last thought as his throat closed in anaphylactic shock was that maybe he should have had a partner or at least a sidekick or at the very least an epinephrine auto-injector.
“And where do you think you’re going young man?” He said in his authoritative voice, the voice he used when he said ‘Don’t do drugs kids’ or ‘Remember, kids, eat five servings of fruits and vegetables everyday’.
The robber didn’t look impressed. His bag of stolen items jangled on his shoulder and the criminal said nothing. He pulled out a stick from his back pocket, it grew and branched and sparked.
“You really should just give yourself up right now. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Up yours Turtle man!” The robber said. He swung his bag around and tossed it at Captain Tortoise who deftly dodged it with a forward roll. The robber swung down with his wand and connected.
The Captain’s body went rigid mid punch and he fell over, there’s no arguing with 50,000 volts. Parts of the wand broke off and stuck to the captain’s suit. Even with his athletic prowes Captain Tortoise found it hard to concentrate. The robber was getting away and he couldn’t move a muscle.
After a moment the electricity in the device gave out, but by then the thief was long gone and the Captain was quite depressed. He readjusted his spandex suit and iconic armor, pulling out bits of the theif’s device. He limped to the brick wall, still in the shadow, and pulled out his pocket sized police scanner.
Just then he heard the wailing of a child. That wasn’t reason alone to go check it out. Kids cried all the time in the city, for a variety of reasons. And there’s no reason to do people’s parenting for them. This cry however sounded worse. Not ‘Mommy I want a bike!’, but more ‘Daddy stop beating me!’
Captain Tortoise shot his grappling gun up the opposite wall and climbed up the brownstone. The kid was still crying so it was easy to tell where it was coming from, the top floor. He flipped down his infrared goggles and peered into the darkened window. The room was awash in heat, one great pool on the floor and a child sized blob to the size. ‘Murder!’ he thought.
He pulled himself up to the top of the building, rewound his grappling hook and used it to get to the other side. He lowered himself down to the fire escape and opened the window. As it creaked in protest he noticed that the screaming had repeated its self and that it was a bit too loud. But too late, a sharp pain pierced the side of his neck and he was out.
He finally came to, groggy and confused. He strained at his bonds before he opened his eyes. He heard a light buzzing from the table he was strapped to and doubled his efforts trying to escape. As he tried to thrash around he took in the scene. He was in a warehouse, high ceilings and massive iron buttressing, probably at the docks, so only a good ten fifteen minutes away. That meant it was probably someone local with a grudge.
“Well well well, so glad to have you up and at ‘em. Eh Captain?” Came a lilting voice from off to the side.
“I’d know that despicable voice anywhere. It’s the BeeKeeper! I thought you were still in prison.” Captain Tortoise said triumphantly.
“I was, he he he. Now you die.”
“Wait, aren’t you going to tell me about your dastardly plans?”
“I just did.”
“What?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“That’s it?”
“Of course that’s it. You’re a pain in the ass and not a very good super hero.”
“Super? I’m not super. I’m just a hero. And this city needs a hero.”
“Maybe, but it’s not you.”
“Now wait a second, what’s your beef with me?”
The BeeKeeper moved into The Captain’s view in his brilliant white bee keeping jacket and matte black mesh hat. He pointed an accusing finger at the Captain. “My beef with you? Are you an idiot? You’re a hero and I’m a bad guy. This is grade school stuff.”
“No wait.”
“No more waiting.” The BeeKeeper clapped his hands together and there was a mechanical clicking sound from somewhere close. The table that the Captain was strapped to began to split down the middle and bees poured out from behind him.
“No! Not the bees, I’m allergic.” The Captain cried.
“I know.” The BeeKeeper said smugly. “Goodbye.” And he walked off as angry bees swarmed around the captain and stung him mercilessly.
The Captain’s last thought as his throat closed in anaphylactic shock was that maybe he should have had a partner or at least a sidekick or at the very least an epinephrine auto-injector.
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