Chapter 6: The Night I Became a Vigilante
At first, the Irish Mafia member wanted to scoff at the other man but that was before he the magnitude of the leap truly entered into his mind as Doyle sailed more than a full story high only to land without making more noise that one would usually make hopping from one leg to another one.
"How about like that?" Doyle grinned at the now gapping duo.
"Your some kind of freak aren't you?" The redhead moaned, scratching the bottom of his chin with his left hand.
"Probably," The younger man shrugged. "Thought that with a super tough body, I'd get the strength to match."
"As you see, Jim," Urich started to speak, using familiar tones and terms of address in order to seem like he was more Jim's friend than he actually was. A kind of manipulation that O'Reilly could more than respect. "Our young friend here as the capabilities to get this done."
"But not the outfit," Doyle drawled out, his grin widening just ever so lightly. "Don't want them to be able to pick my face out in the future, makes doing things a normal guy would do a bit of trouble if I got to deal with the Irish Mafia out for my blood."
"Right… that's not actually bad thinking," Jim said, his own face stretching into a smile. "I've got a few things that I think you could use."
x–x-x
(Patrick Doyle)
I'd gotten into the back of O'Reilly's car, driving me towards the docks. This was when I saw exactly what he thought I could use.
"This isn't as cool as I thought it would be," I sighed out, looking at just what Mr. O'Reilly thought I could use. It was a simple blue hoodie, the strings that should've been on the side were cut off, roughly if the strands on the side were to be believed, there was also a black ski mask. "I was thinking of something… more inspiring?"
"What were you thinking that I'd some Stark shit?" O'Reilly laughed at me, the noise familiar to me in the accent at least when compared to the ones that I'd been hearing recently. I found American laughter foreign to my ears, which it was. "Ain't getting that shit with the amount I make."
"No, but like where's the cape?"
O'Reilly looked me like I was some oddball for wanting something so fundamentally essential in the Super Hero business. The greatest of heroes wore them, except WonderWoman but she'd got the boobs that I never have… hopefully, that is.
I do exist in a comic verse now, Gender Bending could happen to me.
"You've read too many comics, kid," Jim scoffed, his voice nearly breaking out into a laugh ontop of that. "A Cape will just get in the way of what you'll be doing."
Ah, another one of those 'no cape' freaks, it is a shame that so many people don't understand the purpose of the cape. The ever-lasting symbol of power, of hope and the spread of influence.
Why a good cape can make you appear much bigger than you are, lets people either be fearful of your presence or hopeful from your silhouette.
"This will just have to do," I replied, pulling the jumper over my shirt while adjusting to make sure that the plaid would be unnoticed underneath.
"I never thought I'd be the mask sort-" It was at that point that I felt a pair of gloves slap into my face. "You could have thrown them to me, rather than at me."
"It's more fun this way."
He wasn't the only one to chuckle from that, the car filling up with the sound of my one oddly deep ones. It wasn't until we were about ten minutes away from the docks when I'd finally decided to put the mask on my head.
It felt pretty weird, scratchy like it was made from some sort of cotton. Though I would've expected it to block some of my ability to breathe, it didn't really. This was a good way to keep my identity secret...
...but it wasn't for me.
How can I give someone a reassuring smile if they can't see me mouth?
"Why would that matter?"
"Was I speaking out loud?" I responded to O'Reilly's question with my own and a frown to go with it. It wasn't like I needed the man to tell that he'd heard me, just his reactions seconds ago told me that he had. "Sorry about that, just anxious about the whole thing."
"You run your mouth off when stressed?" he replied, barely turning his head to the side so he could see me better. "Not the best sort of quirk to have in this line of work."
"Keep your eyes on the road," I blurted out, tucking in the collar of the shirt while glancing around the car. It was only then that I really thought about what O'Reilly had said. "Line of work?"
"Yeah, you're basically going all vigilante," I could see O'Reilly's grin from the reflection of the rearview mirror. It was this cold, proud but amused expression on his face that kinda made me want to punch him right in the gob. "Running your mouth will only get you killed."
That was a good point, especially in this world that has Iron Man and the Hulk in it. That means people like General Ross, it means organizations like SHIELD and… evil spy organizations… like that one with the Nazi's in it. I was particularly interested in not having their attention on me as long as possible.
"I'll take that in mind," Eventually I replied, leaning back on my seat and shutting my eyes for a little bit, letting the darkness of the evening to fill my sight. Somehow the day had passed without me noticing it, which was a good thing since I needed to strike at night to get those girls free.
But I couldn't help but feel that I was wasting the day away staying inside this rather slow-moving car. Well, the slowness was more due to the traffic than anything else.
"I feel like such a stereotype in this getup," I leaned forward once more, letting my arms hit the back of the shotgun seat. "Look at the Irish lad in the ski mask and then… I walk in there'll be gunfire."
"Figuring that the Irish Mafia will think that we're being attacked by the IRA," O'Reilly rolled his eyes, another action that I saw due to the rearview mirror. "That's a funny image, but going to happen. We're more likely to supply them, and that would mean it would more likely be UVF but that isn't likely given your accent."
The UVF is otherwise known as the Ulster Volunteer Force. They're basically the inverse of the IRA, even as far as wanting the inverse goal of keeping Northen Ireland in the UK… but I don't want to think about two terrorist organizations all that much. It was only that I lack the Northen Irish accent that either groups' members were likely to have.
"Right," I eventually replied to O'Reilly, nodding at the man while closing my eyes once more. This might that I didn't notice the car coming to a stop, or at least didn't think it meant that we'd come to my destination.
"This is your stop," O'Reilly told me, causing me to glance around the area. "I can't be seen dropping you off so close to the Docks. Would get me into a spot of trouble."
I didn't verbally answer, just opened the car door and stepped out onto the path before me, a crane near the docks in clear sight up ahead. Before I could make a single step forward, I felt a hand come out and tap me on the shoulder.
"Kid," Turns out it was O'Reilly from the sound of his voice. "When you're getting out of there, don't go back to Urich's. Instead, I've set up a place over a block west from his place, just tell the lady on the front desk that Jimbo sent ya."
With those words, I waited for the car to drive off, before I started to walk towards the docks with my hood up and my eyes staring straight ahead.
Every step that I took caused my heart to race faster, every breath I took caused my mind to conjure up some issues with my plan.
What if I'd only been lucky and I'm not bulletproof? What if my big leap was a magic gust of wind shooting me up into the air?
All these issues, all of them unlikely in a world of superheroes. No, it was far more likely that I had at least 90's Superboy level durability. Something that I was about to be to the test as I come up to the thick metal-plated gates that separated the docks from the streets.
-------
📚 Want to jump 30+ chapters ahead right now?
👉 You can read the advanced chapters and support me directly on p atreon.
📎 Link in the synopsis & profile: p 4treon.com/ForgottenDaoist