Chapter 4

In which Roger is a little disappointed.

Roger sighed and ran his fingers through his neatly styled, stark white hair. It was swept straight up in a short, tight pseudo-pompadour with a thick lock left to curl in on itself in front of his forehead. He had a big gold hoop earring and wore an immaculately tailored suit the color of vanilla ice cream, a salmon pink shirt, a navy blue tie, and brown wingtip shoes. Despite being indoors, he had on a pair of expensive looking sunglasses. The outfit lent him the appearance that he had stepped out of a European fashion magazine. He patted his pants pocket in an absent minded fashion with one hand while the other straightened his tie. He took a slow breath and surveyed the three costumed people in front of him.

“I gotta say, guys,” he said gently. “I’m pretty darn disappointed.”

“He wasn’t alone!” protested Streak, holding a bag of ice against her left eye, which had a large and impressive shiner. Her face and neck were covered in ugly bruises. “You never told us he had a sidekick!”

“Well, I didn’t know. But there were three of you,” said Roger. “Against two of them.”

“The sidekick had super speed!”

“You’ve got super speed too, unless I’m mistaken, Ainsley.”

Streak shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

“Meteor fought like a demon,” Knuckle interjected. His hair was wet and frazzled, sticking out at odd angles. “Faultline and I took him down, but he sprang a trap right when we were about to nab him.”

Roger looked surprised. “He sprang a trap?”

“There were others waiting in an ambush!” Streak said.

“No, no,” said Roger. “That doesn’t sound like Meteor.” He started to pace in clear agitation. The other three kept quiet. “What did the others do?”

“One had water powers, and the other had-” Streak started to say.

“Lightning,” Roger cut in.

“How did you-”

Roger held up a hand and tutted softly. “Ah ah ah ah. That’s inconvenient, but it’s really beside the point, isn’t it, guys?”

He stopped pacing and strode forward, grabbing hold of the railing that separated him from the Syndicate.

“I mean, I broke you out of prison, right?” he said, his tone soft and even. His expression was one of parental disappointment. “I gave you neat costumes, I gave you super powers, I’m even paying you. So what’s the deal? None of you learned how to take a punch when you were in the clink?”

None of the Syndicate met his gaze. They all stared slightly off into the distance with pained expressions, like children being chastised.

“C’mon, it should have been easy,” Roger continued. “I didn’t ask you to get the other guys, just Meteor. But here you are, minus one garishly dressed do-gooder.”

He gripped the railing tighter, until his knuckles turned white. He pursed his lips and appeared to be counting. There was an uncomfortable silence.

“-Ten,” he said quietly. After a moment, he exhaled, and then smiled broadly. “But hey, we all make mistakes, right? The important thing is that we learn from them.” He let go of the railing and stood up straight, hands in his pockets. “This time, you came back without Meteor. So next time, you’re going to…?”

The silence was palpable. Finally, Knuckle raised his hand nervously.

“Yes, Knuckle,” said Roger.

“Not...do that?” Knuckle put forth.

“Right!” Roger clapped his hands together. “Very good, Vernon; somebody give that man a sandwich. Just don’t come back without Meteor, and then we’ll all be happy, okay?”

He smiled again and  lowered his sunglasses slightly, revealing his unsettlingly blue eyes. “Hey, you guys want to hear a joke? Of course you do. You know happens if you don’t pay your exorcist?”

None of the Syndicate moved. Chastized, then treated like misbehaving children. This was outside of their territory.

“You get repossessed!” Roger finished, and then grinned. He was met only with silence. “No? Alright, go on you crazy kids, get outta here. Daddy’s got some thinking to do.”

 

 

“That guy gives me the f*****g creeps,” Streak said, crossing her arms tightly after she buckled her seatbelt. “It’s like he’s looking straight into your soul.” The car shook gently and she looked over her shoulder at Knuckle, who had crammed himself into the back seat. “What the hell is so funny?”

Knuckle’s shoulders quaked with barely contained laughter. “You get repossessed,” he said, his voice coming out as a squeak.

Author's Note

Roger is kind of like an evil Steve Jobs. Or regular Steve Jobs.