The truck barreled through town, ripping through tight streets and passageways, plowing over cars like they were bowling pins. Fire shot from its exhaust port, billowing out into the air, plumes of smoke blowing out after it like a coal tunnel. 

Subtlety had never been Jackknife’s forte, but he never attempted any hit that would take more finesse than a sledgehammer anyways. Brash, loud snatch and grabs had always been his forte. Getting away with them was almost an afterthought; he was into it near solely to play to the cameras, and to gain infamy from the public. After all, he was one of maybe a small handful of capes that had never bothered concealing his identity. No mask or anything. Hell, no powers, no tech, no nothing; just a stupid codename and a dream for every American to know it.

Pulling a quarter of a million dollars out of a bank vault certainly wasn’t anything to sneeze at for a side perk, however. 

A man on a motorcycle followed, weaving through the destruction with a practiced ease. Clad in a slick, minty green armor, with a deep orange vizor covering his eyes, the hacker-hero Protocol Zero ever so steadily gained ground on the runaway truck. 

After a particularly hard turn, the doors on the big rig blasted open, loose dollars blowing out into the breeze. Two men with bandanas and trucker hats poked out from the back, lifting AK’s and spraying wildly at Zero. As heavily armored as he was, he likely knew not to wait until one of the goons got lucky. He weaved out, sliding into some back alley. 

The goons in the back of the truck lowered their weapons, obviously self pleased that they chased away a top ranking CCHIP cape with a few stray bullets. Before they could celebrate too hard, a loud motorcycle revving broke through the open afternoon air. Protocol Zero had cut them off at the pass, and taken a makeshift ramp, launching his cycle up and directly in the path of the trailer. Just before impact, he let go of his bike, leaped off it, and used the boosters on his suit to jump clear to the top of the big rig, digging in deep to steady himself. The bike, however, tore directly into the trailer, bowling one of the goons out of the back of the truck onto the street, and knocking even more money out into the wild.

The other henchman, still determined to take out Zero, climbed his way up the ladder on the inside of the swinging door. Reaching the top of the truck, he pulled out a pistol on his hip, and fired directly at the hero. A bullet dinged off his helmet, leaving a little dent to the side where his ear would be. Before the thug could get any more lucky shots, Zero ran up, pulled the man up off the door and onto the roof, ripping his mask and hat off and letting it sail off into the wind. Zero pulled out one of his taser sticks, slamming it into the neck of the henchmen. He went limp very quickly after that, and Zero was able to throw the unconscious man into a bush as they passed. 

It was practically over at that point. Jackknife had tried to shake him, leaning out of the door, spraying at him with his own semi-auto pistol. But Protocol Zero was well within the range for his drones to take over the truck. The moment that he had landed on the trailer, he had released dozens of the tiny spider-like bots out of his suit, which had crawled into the engine, the steering wheel, and all the mechanical parts of the rig. Protocol Zero lept from the speeding vehicle as easily as he leapt onto it, and with a simple command from his hacking terminal the drones took over. They slammed on the brakes, pulled hard to the right, and flipped the truck over hard. 

Zero took a leisurely stroll back to the wreck of the truck before pulling the concussed, slow criminal out through the broken glass of his windshield, beating his head a few times against the frame for good measure. “It’s over, Jackknife,” Zero said. “Your little joyride is over, and now you’re going back to the cage where you belong.” 

“You and I both know I’ll be out before you know it. And then we can take this little dance again, my friend,” the leather-clad villain said. He then laughed, and spit blood on Zero’s vizor. 

Zero, in response, slammed his face into the pavement, pulling the mountain of a man down with ease. He pulled his hands back, cuffing them. “This isn’t a game, lowlife. You keep putting innocent lives at risk and one day you’re not going to be as lucky as you are now.” 

Jackknife laughed again, being hoisted to his knees. Already the containment unit had made it to the scene, a half dozen men pouring out of the back of a metal truck. Before they could haul him away, Jacknife looked up to the sky, directly into the lens of the news drone, smiling, blood pouring out of his mouth. “What about you!” he yelled up to the camera. “Are all of y’all enjoying the show!”

“Hell yeah, we are!” David throws a handful of his popcorn at the TV, bouncing off the screen, leaving a few greasy pieces on Jackknife’s smiling mug. “I just made a cool fifty off of you!” 

“No,” I sigh. “You made a cool fifty off of me.” He turns to me and does that little ‘pay up’ motion, so I reach into my wallet and pull out the last crisp bill I had left. Today had been a hot losing streak, and now I’m wiped clean.

He laughs, pulling the bill up to the air with both hands, kissing the little president. What a showoff! “Hey, Jason,” he says, “you should know better than betting on Jackknife of all people. And against Protocol Zero! You have no one to blame but yourself.” 

Katherine gets up from where she was sitting off to the side to slap him in the back of the head. “How many times have I told you not to throw food in my apartment?” 

“Sorry, Kath,” he says quietly. “I forgot where we were for a minute there.” 

The three of us had gotten together to watch the local basketball team, the Central City Colts, get blasted off the court as usual. We also decided to bet recklessly on the game, and my love of rooting for the underdog was doing me poorly, also as usual. I blew through almost all my spending money for the month by the third quarter. We never got to see the end of the game, however, once the news alert broke that there was yet another emergency downtown with yet another two bit thug making a mess. Instead of letting that get me down, I decided to throw everything I had left on a bet that he’d get away with it. And I almost felt confident in myself before I saw they sent Protocol Zero of all people after him!

“Can we finally turn this off, now?” Katherine had wandered off to futz with her phone instead of partaking, so it was just me and David. She sits down between me and him on the couch, reaching for the remote to change the channel. “He’s got a point. Those holding cells are basically a revolving door. Here’s a bet for you two knuckleheads: That guy will be on the street before Halloween.” 

David looked over aghast. “What makes you say that?”

I leaned over at the same time. “Thirty dollars, shake on it.” 

She shook while turning to David, a smirk on her face. “How many times have we seen the same creeps on the news over and over? They can’t all be escape experts. Someone is breaking them out.” 

“Oh yeah?” he says. “And who exactly would do that?” 

“Someone on the inside, clearly!” She smiles that way she does when she’s about to go on one of her conspiracy rants. “They obviously need to keep the powered villains on the street to justify the powered heroes.” 

He pinches his nose, sighing. “God, this again. They stop plenty of standard crimes too. Look at that doofus! Anyone could have taken him down.” 

“And yet they send the best,” I grumble. 

David looks like he’s gonna say something else, but a familiar ringing goes off instead. He sighs, hitting a button on the top of his old-school beeper. “Damn, really? I didn’t expect to be called in today. Gotta go guys, I.T. emergencies don’t wait.” 

He jumps up, and basically rushes out the door. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Katherine turns to me, giggling. “God, he’s such a sucker sometimes.” She gets up to clean the popcorn and other snacks off the table. She knows I’m pretty much going to split right away too. 

I get up to clean the popcorn David spilled everywhere. “Come on, he’s sweet. He can’t help it that he’s a little too trusting. Better that than a cynic, Kitty!” David was my oldest and probably strongest friend. Big, loud, protective, jovial. Like a golden retriever. Katherine is more slick, world weary; she loves her conspiracy theories and her rum mixers. 

She huffs at me from over in the kitchen. “A little cynicism’s pretty good for you, Jason. Keeps you from being stabbed in the back.” She puts the bowls down on the counter, and leans into her hands. “And you know how much I hate it when you call me that.” 

“Of course I do! That’s why I did it.” I stick my tongue out at her, and she rolls her eyes. She acts like she just tolerates me, but I know she loves it.

She picks up my coat from off one of the chairs at the kitchen counter, and tosses it into my arms. “Gonna leave now that it’s just little ol’ you and me?”

“Am I that predictable?” 

She gives me a completely deadpan look. “Yes.”

I shrug it on, and blow her a little mock kiss. “Don’t miss me too much.” And out the door I go.

My apartment is only about five minutes away, less if I hustle. That’s good, considering how much time I wasted trying to play cool for my friends. A quick pit stop at home, and then it’ll be right back out the door. Time to make back some of the money I lost today.

CassieSandwich

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