“You will never take me alive, Guardian Angel!” the vile Rat King screamed at his pursuer. Minutes ago, his lair was swarming with evil henchmen, stolen goods, and a ridiculous amount of cheese, due to a need to constantly make it clear that the crimes he committed were, in fact, rodent related. He didn’t know why, and quite frankly he never understood how cheese came to be related to the pink tailed vermin he called brethren, and it didn’t matter. All of it had been confiscated by local authorities, and he was now running for his life from a masked vigilante that the police officers had for unknown reasons never decided to arrest. For goodness sake, he was a vigilante, that is just as illegal as being a man who is actually part rat that steals cheese!
He had to shake his head and get back to his focus on not spending the next several years in jail. As he turned down a side tunnel that no one should have known about, he slammed into the caped mad man. He wore an all-white jumpsuit, with a yellow band that covered his eyes, and the ridiculous white cape that didn’t really do anything than offer some flair to the already flamboyant superhero.
That was another thing that bugged him! This guy was just some guy for all he could tell. Other than the obvious over-study of martial-arts, there was nothing super about him! Maybe it is the cape…
Finally, after dusting off his pin-striped suit which was now dusty from falling after the sudden impact, the small man held his wrist up to the hero. “Welp, alright, I know the drill, and if I remember correctly tonight is meatloaf in county lockup. Hopefully I will be done with processing in time.”
The stalwart defender didn’t move. “Not this time.”
The Rat King’s shoulders slumped, and a puzzled look came across his pointed face. “What do you mean? Did they run out of meat-”
“Not the meat loaf, Rick. We need to talk.” He started to reach behind him for something that looked like a black-jack.
“Rick? What is going on?” The Rat King, real name Rick, started to pull his clawed hands back in a hope to defend himself. The Guardian Angel never called him by his real name. I mean, he’d done a lot of crimes but this one didn’t even have the usual hurt bystander. They never killed anyone, but there were the onesy-twosy individuals that needed a hit from the butt-end of a rifle to comply with demands.
The giant arms of the giant man then came at an unreal speed that sent Rick spiraling into darkness, and the ground.
…
When he had finally awoken, he found himself in a dark alley, looking up at lights as they danced into the open trunk of an old silver sedan. All the driver really had to do was set it on fire and it would just be like one of a thousand other silver sedans; a real pro could make anyone disappear in the trunk of one of these.
“Is this a coffin?” Rick got very stiff, as if he was practicing rigor mortis.
The stranger chuckled, and then spoke in a familiar voice. “No, not this time. You are currently in the trunk of my car. I was waiting for you to wake up before we go in.”
There was no doubt about it, it was the Guardian Angel. He had the same nose, same eyes, same mouth. Not to mention that jet black hair, that started to show a little grey now. It was hard not to get a look at the face of another human being when they usually held you inches from their face by the collar of your shirt, screaming rat-based obscenities. The only difference was the jeans and thick tan jacket that was slightly zipped down to show an olive drab t-shirt.
“Go in where?” Rick was currently trying his hardest to lift himself up, and get out of the trunk of an old-beater car that didn’t match the car he figured a superhero would drive.
Once he had gotten out of the back of the car, and tried to fix his suit, the hero gestured to a dingy dive that had several mean looking motorcycles sitting outside.
“I know it is not the kind of place royalty is accustomed to,” The un-caped crusader made a facetious bow and sweeping of the arm towards the bar, “but it is better than where you should be headed.”
That was another thing that really felt out of place. The Guardian Angel did NOT have a sense of humor. He knew this not only as a matter of personal experience and stories he heard from a cohort of his that dressed like a clown, but it might as well have been an undisputable fact. Water is wet, the dress is white and gold, and the Guardian Angel did not even so much as smile.
Rick started to step back, towards a nearby alley. “What are you up to Guardian Angel?” It felt as if his intestines were literally tying themselves in knots that were actually shaped like squares.
The sarcastic gestures of the mask-less superhero slumped and he dropped his arms before drawing himself to his full height and taking a big chest full of air. “Look, if you want to try and make a run for it, go for it. It might take me 30 seconds to a minute, tops, to get back into costume, chase you down, and take you to your cozy cell that I know you will worm your way out of within a week.”
That sounded like a pretty good plan to the rat-man, who already had a tunnel dug for if he felt like escaping the same night. As he started to slowly turn, he was stopped by the deep voiced man.
“Or,” and this time he just nodded to the establishment, “we can go in, have a few drinks, and after you have heard what I have to say, I will allow you to go back to cell block B, cell 15, where there is an escape route already dug, Shawshank style.”
Well, crap, there went that plan. It was Rick’s turn to sigh, and he followed his captor inside. The smell outside of cigarettes and other unmentionable stenches made the knife-like nose of Rick curl, and if it weren’t for the fact that he made his home in a sewer, that enough would have gotten him to ask for jail.
As they reached the door, he leaned down next to Rick’s ear and talked in a barely audible voice. “While we are in here, call me Dave.”
Dave? And immediately as they opened the door, they were met with the load rock music and even stronger smells that Rick had come to expect. Two seats were open near the end of the bar, where the wall and the last seat met. Dave was met with a hearty hello from the bartender, and after making some pleasantries and ordering some drinks, the two just sat there. It wasn’t until Dave had taken his last big gulp that he finally started to speak.
“Alright, so now that we are here, we need to talk about this little work relationship we have.”
Rick started to slowly turn from his barely sipped drink, and give Dave an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”
“You’re excused.” Dave once again chuckled at himself.
Rick had to keep himself from yelling in that high pitched voice at the audacity of this man. “This is not work, this is not a job. I am a deformed human who has to live in a tunnel that just streams refuse by me on the daily, and you treat this like a typical job? I live next to a literal river of poop! I mean, for the love of everything holy, do you actually think I enjoy what I do?”
“No, not really. Not that it matters, but it has to suck most days.” Dave took a sip of his newly acquired pint. Rick’s face twisted before just giving up and taking the largest gulp of the night.
“But to be honest, that is why we need to talk. There is no way you enjoy losing day after day to a guy who you figure must have no idea how hard being the villain is. I mean, at the very least it has to be unbearable losing every day to begin with.” He took another sip, then turned towards Rick. “Which is why I need to level with you.”
Rick looked at him while still facing the beer, one eyebrow raised. Dave continued. “If you think hiring a bunch of poor guys who need jobs, committing countless crimes with little to no repercussions, and escaping before having a legitimate trial is any worse than the guy who has to clean up after you, you’re only kidding yourself.”
“Like being the one everyone loves isn’t the best job there is.” Rick shook his head and sipped some more.
Dave then looked forward and scratched his chin that was just now starting to show a 5 o’clock shadow. “Your right, who doesn’t want to be the guy who has to single handedly beat a fortress of men, get constant fractures and concussions from haphazardly made traps, then still has to get up, grit his teeth, and do the right thing, instead of just putting a bullet in your head for kidnapping my girlfriend and dangling her over a pool of angry alligators.”
Rick heaved forward, trying not to spit out his drink before taking a painful swallow. “The woman we caught snooping around was your girl? No wonder you broke Kowalski’s jaw!” This time Rick went ahead and chuckled at what was a very expensive hospital visit.
David pointed at Rick. “Exactly, which is why I am just going to ask you this favor, which if you ever need the same you can meet me here. This is where I spend my weekends when I’m not dealing with you.” He drained the rest of the beer and called for another. Bartender just shook his head and popped the top off another one.
“Which is?” Rick squinted in the dim light.
“Give me a break. Like an actual break. This time, when you get out of jail, just lay low for a couple of weeks.”
“That’s it?”
Dave took another of those deep breaths they both have had too many of tonight and shook his head. “That’s it,” he huffed.
It never occurred to Rick to just chill out for a week or two, and after mulling it over for a second, he came to his decision. “Alright, sounds good.”
Dave perked up. “Great! Now let me just smoke a quick cigarette, and once we have had our fill, I’ll have a taxi ‘take you to jail’.” He brought up his fingers and did little air quotes for jail.
“Before we do, I have one question.” The silence grew as if it would consume the entire bar. “Why haven’t you yet?”
“Haven’t what? Sent you to jail yet?”
“No- I figured that the whole point of forcing me to talk to you in this bar was why you didn’t send me up river yet. Why haven’t you, yah know, shot me?”
“Shoot you?” Dave shook his head. “Honestly, offing you would just kinda hurt, you know? Not to mention that most crime in the city has gone down with you in charge. Anyone that would be committing more serious crimes than robbing a Cheese Cake Factory are worried about stepping on your toes, and me throwing them in jail.” He downed the rest of his drink. “However, if you ever steal my girlfriend again, imma’ bust your kneecaps.”
Dave got up and started to walk away after a second to stretch, and left Rick by himself. Rick tilted his head for a second in consideration, and mostly to himself said “Fair enough.” They finished one more round then the Rat King managed to make a daring escape as he told the taxi to pull over early. He looked up though and realized that he’s best friend and nemesis was on a roof top, casually staring him down like a slightly amused teacher. Rick got back in the car and went to jail.
“You know that Guardian Angel is a drunk right? Who else you know chasing people around on roof tops. The man’s not sane.” He mumbled bitterly to himself, deciding he would only wait two weeks and not a second longer. The taxi driver chuckled at the man dressed like a rat and just did what he was told.
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