Flash: The Greatest of All Superpowers – The Mom-Hood

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature (Language)

Tyler liked his cousin DeShawn alright most days; the money had rolled in since he had gotten superpowers and started knocking over banks. But kidnapping Power Fists’ mother? That was fucking serious. Still true ice when DeShawn boosted Power Fists cell phone during a fight and returned it same dust after decrypting and duping it. Serious balls on Black Rod.


Being about midway up in Black Rod’s gang, Tyler scored guard duty in the room with the captive. Just not in the middle with the four gang lieutenants. Okay by him. Shadows along the wall suited him fine. He was trusted family and got important shit like picking up the old bitch. Bastards could keep their superpowers; put the idiots on the front lines when Power Fists tripped the trap. Those bros were going to take some bruising before they brought him down.


The dork got the phone set up with that freaky six-way speaker mike crap for main-man business rooms. Tyler straightened up, lifting his streetsweeper to bad ass position. The machine gun was set to three bullet bursts to save on ammo, but he was ready to flip it to full auto when the show hit town. He tried to ignore the homeless cart ranch behind him ditzing on his cool. He kicked butt today and was ready for some more.


The conference phone was set loud, so Tyler hear it as it began ringing. Black Rod knew how to set a scene. The only strong light was on the center of the derelict store, highlighting the leaders and the bitch. Damn that woman had evil eyes glaring over the duct tape. When the snooze gas had worn off in the van, she had struggled like a cat in a bag, but by the time they got her indoors to the chair for Black Rod she was chill. DeShawn had only zip-lined her wrists in her lap.


Tyler’s gut said that was not enough. But the boys got Powers.  It’s all good, he told himself.


Someone answered the phone. “Hello, this is Mel.” Everyone snickered quietly.


“Hello Mel,” DeShawn’s voice carried throughout the cavernous room. “I can call you Mel, right? This is Black Rod. I have your mother.”


“What the fuck?!?”


“Really, is that the language you use in front of your mother?” inquired DeShawn smoothly. “Let me put her on.”


Bloodband, who had been standing behind the woman, ripped the tape from her mouth. She screamed as bits of her lips came away with it.


“Mom! Oh God, Mom, are you okay?”


“Melvin, boy, you better come right now!” The gray-haired woman shouted at the phone. “Don’t you go making me rescue myself! I will slap you so hard your dentures will be rattling when you’re seventy!”


Fuck, Tyler blinked. No wonder Power Fists was so bad ass.


“Mom, it’s okay. I’m coming to get you.”


Okay, maybe Power Fists is a pussy.


“Damn straight you are.” The hag commanded. “I’ve got an appointment with Tamika in four hours and I better not miss it. These nails don’t do themselves.”


“Where are you?” Tyler could hear wind from the speaker now. The superhero was flying.


“Locust and Grant – look for a boarded up store with a huge pineapple. Marcus tagged it good.”


“What the fuck?!? Put that gag back on!” Black Rod yelled as he slammed the conference off button, destroying the device with his super strength.


Bloodband tried to retape her mouth, but the woman twisted sideways. “What? You idiots don’t think I wouldn’t recognize the store?” Strike came at her front to hold her in place for Bloodband and got rewarded with a kick to the balls. “Shopped here for years. Best bargains on meats in the city.” She swung her head back, breaking Bloodband’s nose.


The fucker had spent a dime before the Change and picked up two tears; he dropped like a stone.


For some reason Power Fists breaking through the ceiling did not scare Tyler half as much as the superhero’s gray-haired mother standing up. Sure her hands were still tied, but the bitch had already eliminated two of the Powered before getting out of the chair. Tyler threw the gun away and crawled to the old grocery cart corral, hoping to hide as the concrete and bullets started to fly.

(Words 716 – first published 1/16/2013; published in new blog format on 1/1/2017)