The rain had stopped beating against the ground around the same time Jase left school. He moped home, limping on his weakened leg. Every step sent searing pain through his body, and as he hobbled towards home, he let his mind wander.
He thought of following his darkened thoughts and actually taking revenge on Dick, but it was vile to him; he'd lost control in his rage last time. What would happen this time? Would he teach Dick a lesson, bring him to justice, or maybe kill him? He wasn't sure of his choices yet, and it didn't help when his view quickly changed.
The skyline of the city seemed to topple as he fell to the concrete. His world had turned; in reality, it was one of Dick's lackeys who had shoulder-checked him.
Jase lay flat on the concrete, his leg pulsing with pain as the thug dragged him into the alleyway where Dick and Jase had already become well acquainted. Standing above Jase were four thugs who all wore dark clothes and carried blunt objects for hitting Jase, and just next to the group stood Dick with a wrap around the side of his bulbous head.
"C'mon Dick teach this fucking punk a lesson!" roared one of Dick's thugs.
Dick grunted as he stood up, a little off balance. Once he finally managed to place the weight on his legs, he clomped over towards his victim, who lay prone on the ground. Once Dick launched a boot onto the back of Jase, a storm of kicks and punches from his followers ensued. All six grown men practically shoved each other out of the way for a chance at crippling this lone boy on the ground.
"THIS IS FOR MY EAR!"
Jase heard the enraged voice echo throughout the alley before his vision flashed red, he had been kicked in the face. He felt the shock waves go through him as the boot reeled back for another kick.
The beating felt like it would never stop; he could feel bruises already forming all over his body. He was just wishing it would end; his sense of time began to feel muddled. The few minutes had begun to feel like hours. He felt like this was just his life; he was living in the now and couldn't see in either direction, past or future. All his mind could think of was pain.
Pain surrounded him right now; the beating wouldn't stop; it was incessant and everlasting. Much like himself, Dick wanted revenge and had clearly lost control, he could tell the six of them were still yelling insults and such at him.
THWACK!
This hit reverberated within him far more than any previous impact he had felt. His jaw quickly began to go numb.
The beating wouldn't stop, and the attacks melted away. It was him and his pain, ever growing, yet somehow he was filled with a sensation akin to comfort. Now lying on the cold, hard ground, it was as though he could see his whole life up to this point and was now stuck in this feeling forever. A sort of limbo of bliss and pain.
He was only removed from his trance when he suddenly realized the beating had been interrupted.
"HEY! GET OFF HIM OR I'LL CALL THE COPS!" Hal called from the mouth of the alleyway.
The six scattered like deer after a gunshot.
Hal rushed over to his friend, who lay in a crumpled heap on the ground.
'Man this would be a cool comic' he thought. He kept his intrusive thoughts in and helped his friend up while looking him over.
Jase was caked in blood; it soaked his face and his clothes. His long hair was matted with a mixture of dirt and blood.
The pair hobbled back, leaving droplets of Jase's blood behind them as they walked. The pair were a sad sight, yet even as they neared Hal's home, not a soul questioned it; this scene had been witnessed too many times; it was no one but Jase and Hal's issue.
Hal had decided on his home because his parents were never home; they always worked, and when they weren't, they definitely weren't paying attention to Hal. He's basically an adult now; he can handle himself.
'At least I'm not bleeding onto the carpet anymore' thought Jase as he struggled up the stairs. The two didn't share a word; Hal just gazed at Jase knowingly every now and then until they reached Hal's room.
The walls were covered in comic book covers and memorabilia from Hal's favorite stories. Jase was afraid to touch anything without smudging some of his blood onto any surfaces. Hal had his very own bathroom that Jase could use to take a shower while Hal picked out some spare clothes Jase could borrow.
Jase shuttered as the water hit his bruised and battered skin. Jase's body painted a horrid picture of the abuse he had just been subjected to. His back was filled with welts and bruises, while his joints each held an unhealthy swelling near their bones. The cut on his leg had been reopened and was painting the faint muscles of his leg a deathly crimson, filling every nook and cranny of his sorry appendage. As the water began to wash over his hair and onto his shoulders, his body was momentarily bathed in a diluted mixture of blood, dirt, and whatever nasty liquid had made its way onto his body during his assault.
Jase gazed at the shower handle with an empty expression, thinking about how, if Hal decided to tell him, "I told you so!" he would have to begrudgingly agree. He didn't really care that he got beat up anymore; he just cared that Dick was scared enough to get all that help for just him. He had struck fear in Dick, and he would use that to get back at him for this. His gaze intensified as a burning ambition began to smolder beneath his hazel pupils.
…
Jase got dressed and stepped out into Hal's room, his friend having long since taken out his comic books. Hal smiled from the chair he sat on and beckoned Jase to sit at a nearby beanbag. Jase looked at the massive bean bag and collapsed into its loving embrace.
After adjusting himself, Jase looked at Hal with a questioning gaze and pointed to the "MAXSPLODE" comic book.
"You actually like that one, Jase?"
Jase spoke quietly, "Well yeah, he's cool. I like his power fists."
"You know we could try to build our own…." Hal suggested.
"Where would we get the parts?" said Jase, still speaking softly.
"Your dad's garage dude!"
Jase was shocked by the insinuation that they should steal from his father. However, Hal spoke again before Jase could interject.
"He's got everything we need, and he probably won't mind if we borrow a few parts."
"I don't know man. I don't want to take anything my dad needs."
Hal ran to his closet, grabbed a deep green jacket, and threw it at Jase with a pair of cargo pants to match.
"Try these on!" Hal commanded excitedly.
"Whatever you say dude..." said Jase, he got help from Hal to pull himself from the grasp of the bean bag. Jase looked at his previous dwelling, his gaze piercing out as if it would help him fall into the comfort of it once again. He lumbered over to the bathroom once again and began to put on his outfit.
He inspected his makeshift supersuit; it was nearly identical in color, being an earthy green, but wasn't quite as tight fitting as the hero on the cover, albeit the hero's arms were massive, especially in comparison to Jase's slight frame.
Jase heard the sounds of spray paint coming from outside the bathroom. So, still wearing the "super suit" that had been gifted to him, he stepped into the room yet again.
Hal was spray painting pads that looked like they were designed for skateboarding at best—a bronze orange with a matte finish, just like "MAXSPLODE". Jase asked, and Hal intended to deliver.
"It's not amazing, but it'll do for now!" said Hal excitedly as he gathered together more components for Jase's suit.
He especially made sure he found a helmet to better protect Jase against the next pipe he came into contact with. The duo loaded up their haul into backpacks and headed for Delma's garage.
…
Jase and Hal slunk into the garage, careful not to make a racket as they entered the shop. They stepped around the clutter and got to work. They crafted with the sole intent of protecting Jase and helping him exact his revenge.
They recreated the very same powerfists that "MAXSPLODE" had; however, theirs did not have any explosives because that seemed impractical without the super powers only seen in comics. Instead, Jase's strikes would be powered by mini hydraulics along his wrists and knuckles to add a sort of second impact alongside his strikes.
The suit was all the two could work on all night; it was already past three in the morning when they had finished working on the base of the power fist's structure. They had designed mounts for his winches to stay on his forearms and fire with a simple thumb button and a power fist for each hand, which were triggered via an impact sensor on the fist itself.
Hal's contribution, which he was quite fond of, was a folding mechanism for the power fists to snap down below Jase's hand when not in use. Hal also spent time making Jase's two hooks for his winches. The suit was nearly finished, and the two were proud of their work, regardless of how jerry-rigged it looked. The powerfists themselves would have to wait as they grew weary. Jase threw on his new grappling hooks.
Hal looked on in awe as Jase spoke.
"I think I should take it for a spin dude" he said as he slipped on the orange pads and the helmet that Hal had grabbed, which was seemingly just a bike helmet. The suit had mismatched colors and patterns, but it didn't matter to the boys.
Before Hal could get Jase to start testing things out, Jase swung open the garage without saying another word and launched his first grappling hook into the night. Jase gave Hal a brief glance as the line went taut and pulled him onto a rooftop.
Hal looked on and just stood still as his friend was dragged away into the night. He couldn't believe his best friend just left him standing there after helping him get the very tools he used to leave. Hal's worry for Jase's injuries was quickly overshadowed by his anger that his friend had simply left him there; he went home after hiding the unfinished powerfists.