2.21

Hunter, Silas and Gauzelle left Stick’s treehouse and exited the Primal Lands. Hunter tapped his communicator and his mother’s face showed up.

“How’s it goin hun?” Clara asked. Dark rings underlined her eyes.

“We’re going after Jimena. Stick said you might have some clues on her whereabouts?” Hunter asked.

“Last I contacted her, she was in Crooked Downs.” Clara stared at Hunter. A pang of anxiety started to burn behind Hunter’s face.

Crooked Downs, that meant Bulldog was there.

“Is she with Bulldog?” Hunter asked.

“I don’t know. You don’t need to worry about him, he won’t do anything to you.” Clara’s tone changed to one of a protective wolf.

“No. I know. I’d just prefer avoiding him altogether if I could.”

“He sounds like a real asshole,” said Gauzelle. “Want me to deal with him?”

“No, there won’t be any dealing with. If we come across him, we’ll sort the situation out from there. Otherwise, we shouldn’t even think about him.” Hunter emphasised his point by punching his hand, something he wasn’t aware of having done.

“So we’re going to Crooked Downs then?” Silas asked.

“Yep,” said Hunter.

“And we gotta walk?” Silas asked.

“We’ve done it before. What’s the problem?” Gauzelle asked.

“I’ve just had a mad feed, I feel tired.”

“Whose fault is that?” Hunter asked.

“I know its mine, but still. Can’t we get like a private chauffer? A minibus or a van, or even a station wagon? A plank of timber with an engine?”

“And do we pay this driver? With what money? We aren’t getting paid for being superheroes. Not yet” argued Hunter.

“I’ve got some money. Can we call a cab?”

“You don’t even need to walk. You kick off and fly down, we did it before,” said Gauzelle.

“I’m not gonna do that to Hunter. He can’t move fast like us. We need to get you some kind of transport.”

“Like rollerblades or something?” Memories from Hunter’s childhood came rolling by as he reminisced on getting his first pair of rollerblades for his birthday. His mother was against it, but his father encouraged it. Hunter had been so good at rollerblading; he had entered into an amateur competition. He placed third but gave up on the pursuit after his father had been murdered.

“Nah, there’s a superhero that uses rollerblades. Its been done before, not a good look,” Silas informed them.

“You’re saying no two heroes are alike? That none use similar things or overlap?” asked Gauzelle.

“They do, but it just wouldn’t be a good look for us.” A smirk grew on Silas’s face.

“Whaddaya mean a good look?” Gauzelle asked.

“Our team. Its all about us having an image ya know. We want to stand out and make people remember us. When there’s trouble a-brewing, they should think to call on Party of Four.” Silas expanded himself a little to exaggerate his puffed-out chest.

“I think, you may need to pay someone to come up with a name for us,” said Gauzelle.

“Why do you knock on all of my ideas? Its not like you’ve thought of one.”

“Because I don’t really care.”

“But all of the great teams have names. Sunstrikers, Azure Grit, Verity Bringers, Shark Fighters, Punch Club. Need I go on?” A prideful tone crept into Silas’s voice.

“No, please don’t. You’re right, I wish we had a name like Punch Club.”

“Seriously?”

“Sarcasm,” Gauzelle lifted her arms up to the sky in exasperation.

“We aren’t deciding on a name until we get Jimena. And that’s if we can even come up with one. If we can’t settle on a name, we don’t bother. Agreed?” Hunter’s frustration had kicked in. The constant squabbling of these two went beyond amusing.

“Agreed,” said Silas and Gauzelle in unison.

“Good. Let’s get started for Crooked Downs. I want to get in and out of there as fast as possible.”

“Hunter, you don’t need to worry about Bulldog. We can deal with him if we have to,” said Silas.

“I say we go in looking for him. Set him straight now, show him we’re not some peeps to be messed with,” said Gauzelle.

“No. We’re avoiding him at all costs.”

“Right. Unless we cross paths with him, and then we kick his butt,” passion came into Gauzelle’s voice.

“No. We turn the other way and leave him be,” Hunter’s frustration was building. Didn’t these two get it? Under no circumstance were they to ‘deal’ with Bulldog.

“And what kind of message would that send to him then? That we’re a bunch of weaklings and he can mess with us whenever he wants?” Gauzelle asked. She was fired up now and Silas was getting swept up in the vibes.

“I don’t care about what he thinks of us. We aren’t dealing with him and that’s final,” snapped Hunter.

“Sorry Hunter. We were only having a bit of fun,” said Silas.

“I wasn’t. If that Bulldog thinks he can mess with us, he’s got another thing coming. It ain’t happening. We gotta make a stand and rub his face in it. If you all bail, that’s fine. But I won’t.” Gauzelle snapped back.

“Fine. But you’re on your own with that,” said Hunter. He didn’t notice Silas shaking his head and mouthing ‘no’ to Gauzelle.

A loud crack tore through the sky. The clouds opened up and let loose a torrential downpour. It was cold and stung when it hit the skin.

“Hey Hunter, can we get a cab now?” Hunter looked at his teammates and felt a small defeat wave over him.

“Yeah, I guess so.” The three of them approached the curb and Hunter signalled a taxi. One pulled up and just as Hunter opened the door, an elderly lady cut through and jumped into the taxi. She closed the door and the cab took off.

“Seriously?” said Silas.

“I should’ve tripped her,” said Gauzelle.

Hunter signalled another taxi, two drove past before one finally pulled up.

“Where you headed?” the burly taxi driver asked.

“Crooked Downs,” said Hunter.

“Stuff that,” the taxi fishtailed away from them into the darkness.

The trio put their heads down and started the long trek toward Crooked Downs when a car horn blasted through the rain. They turned around and saw a red taxi, an unusual sight as most were yellow.

The three approached the car and jumped in.

“Where you going?” the woman asked.

“Crooked Down.”

“Rightio. Crooked Downs it is.” The red cab pulled away from the curb and made its way toward the corrupt district.