Sidekick: The Misadventures of the New Scarlet Knight (24 page)

At least one person, maybe two from the sound of it, was trying to sneak up on me. My mind raced through my options. I wasn’t in costume—heck, I hadn’t worn the Scarlet Knight outfit in almost two years—so I had no significant armor or defenses. I sure as hell didn’t have my sword on me. I looked around for a fallen tree limb or something I could use as a staff, but there wasn’t anything I could get to without exposing myself to attack. I was wearing my old sneakers with the anti-grav units in them so I would have better mobility and speed, but I didn’t dare use them for full-fledged flight without possibly blowing my secret identity. So what if that secret identity had been so secret that he hadn’t been seen in the skies for two years? Supervillains tended to have long memories.

The footsteps got closer. There were definitely two sets of them; their owners trying to move in unison to mask their numbers. But one had gotten slightly out of step. This limited my options. A head-to-head confrontation was obviously out of the question; I would need to take one of them down and hope I could either get the hell out of there, or at least take down the other before the first recovered. It wouldn’t be easy, but I’d used that tactic before.

I held my breath and listened very carefully. When I figured they were right behind the grave I sprang into action. I kicked on my anti-gravs, jumped up and back, somersaulting over the two intruders and praying that they were too confused or distracted by my move to regain the initiative. As soon as I touched down and could be sure of my footing, I swept low, knocking the first target’s legs out from under him. Without taking the time to appreciate the beautiful sound his body would make slamming into the frozen ground, I spun to face his accomplice, who managed to grip my wrist with more strength than I expected. I was about to say to hell with my secret identity and fly straight up—let’s see how eager she was to hold onto my wrist a few hundred feet up in the air—when I recognized who I was up against.

“What did I tell you, Rick?” she said with a smile that always sent my heart into palpitations. “You owe me fifty bucks.”

“Sarah?” It was Sarah Marsh: once the sidekick known as Pandora, currently the hero known as Prism, and forever the object of my obsession and boyhood longings. I’d asked her to marry me two years before and while she hadn’t exactly said yes, she sure as hell didn’t say no. We’d joked that we were engaged to be engaged to be engaged, and one of my main goals in life, now that I didn’t have to keep my nose in textbooks eighteen hours a day, was to knock a couple of “to be’s” off that phrase.

“Dammit, dude” a voice from the ground groaned. “I could have sworn all that time on the sidelines would have made you rusty. Help me up, would ya?” I leaned down and helped pull Rick Major to his feet. Like Sarah and me, he’d started out as a sidekick before deciding to take on the mantle and identity of his dead mentor: Mister Mystery. He’d also taken on a bigger role: leading and trying to rebuild the Justice Federation, after I’d hung up the tights and headed off to college.

“Come on, Rick, you know better than to doubt me. I may not be out in the field with the rest of you, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten my training, or let my skills lapse.” I pulled him towards me into the biggest hug that two straight guys could safely take part in. “I’ve missed you, ya know.”

“And we’ve missed you. You back for good now?”

“If I have anything to say about it, I am.” I turned my attention to Sarah. “So whose idea was it to try and sneak up on me? Yours or his?”

She chuckled, which told me it had been her idea even if she didn’t actually say the words. “We figured you’d be here on the anniversary of your uncle’s funeral, heard you talking as we came in, we thought we’d have a little fun.”

“You figured I’d be here?” It made sense, I guessed. Two years before, to the day, this gravesite was crowded with superheroes, sidekicks, dignitaries and not-so-dignitaries, and assorted humanity gathered for the burial of my Uncle Jack. Some in the group were mourning the passing of a business tycoon and philanthropist. Some were mourning the death of the Scarlet Knight. Me? I was saying goodbye to the foster father and mentor who had saved my life both literally and figuratively. “It’s so good of you two to remember.”

“Of course we remember,” Rick explained with a smirk. “Only you would celebrate his birthday in a cemetery.”

I laughed, which really must have put him off his guard since he was completely unprepared for my sweeping his legs out from under him a second time.

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