It's like Bridget Jones' Diary, but with a super-powered vigilante.

June 17, 2005

Patrol Report

There are two of them -- ECPD Paracrime Unit cops in black tactical armor -- perched on the roof of the Hunan Hotel. The troopers are backlit by the neon glare of Chinatown, so I don't even have to zoom in with my goggle optics to see that they're on dragnet duty - they've created a mini-bunker bristling with antennae and rifles and spotting scopes. They look like post-apocalypse deer hunters waiting up in a blind for something big to wander by.

I'm about two blocks away on another roof, hiding behind some HVAC units. I had been bopping along on patrol, listening to... You know, it's not important what I was listening to. I was minding my own business, keeping the city safe, etc., when I spotted the surveillance post, so I ducked under cover, and here I am. They haven't seen me. I scan the surrounding area until I'm satisfied that there is only one post, then sit down and consider the situation. I start chewing on a Power Bar from the utility belt.

I gotta call Margo, I told her I would. Well, Connor told her I would. You know what I mean. I flip open the transat phone.

Her phone rings and rings.

Crap! The voice changer spray! Why is it so hard to remember the fucking thing? Am I self-sabotaging or what?

Her voice mail picks up. "Hi, it's Margo. I can't take your call right now --"

I tear the voice changer from my belt - it's like an asthma spray - and take a deep hit.

"--but if you leave a message at the beep, I'll get back to you. Probably."

Beep.

"Good evening Ms. Thompson, it's the uh, Velvet Marauder," I say in my altered Robert Goulet voice. "I wanted to thank you for you help. I've uh, concluded my investigation and will be taking action. Soon. So, uh, thank you. I'm also very sorry about your car -- about your car getting destroyed like that. That's all. I'll touch base with you once this is all over. Uhh, have a good one."

I snap shut the phone with a groan at my own stupidity.

"Have a good one?" I say to no one in particular. "Have a good one? What the hell is wrong with me?"

God, you would think that I would have thought about what I was going to say. I'm so uncool. It's probably better that she wasn't there, I would have just made a bigger ass of myself in person. What hero says "have a good one?" Gas Station Attendant Man?

Pissed at myself, I pop to my feet and check on the Paracrime deer hunters. Still there. I devour the rest of my Power Bar and consider how I can childishly lash out at these cops to salvage some self-respect. I wish I could eavesdrop on the Paracrime Unit's radio frequency, but they changed it months ago and I haven't been able to find it again.

You know what? Let's just keep this simple. I look around the roof for something appropriate. There are a bunch of empty beer bottles in a corner. Some kids must have come up here to drink. They're perfect.

The first bottle falls short and torpedoes through one of the Hunan Hotel's windows.

"Oops. Shit."

The troopers hear the bottle hit, and start looking around frantically. That woke them up.

I throw another beer bottle. Direct hit. The bottle explodes against the deer blind with a brittle splash of glass. The Paracrime troopers leap to their feet, wildly swinging their guns around, screaming into their radios. They're not hurt, their armor protects them, but they're a little rattled. It makes me laugh. I'm a dick like that.

"Hey!" I yell in my chemically altered voice. "Officers! Over here!"

They start looking around. I jump up and down, waving my arms. "Officers! Hey!"

The cops spot me. One of them looks at me through a pair of binoculars while the other calls in my position to Paracrime. I wave to them.

Then I hop around and smack my butt in the universal sign for "kiss my ass." Seriously, everyone in the universe knows what that means. Dolphins know what that means.

"You guys SUCK!" I yell, then leap off the rooftop.

By the time I hit Queen's Row I can hear the Sherriff's Department helicopter overhead, looking for me. I drop down into an alley way and walk the last 100 yards to my parked car. Then I slip into the Friday night traffic and drive home, smirking the entire time.

I've had my fun. Tommorrow night I hit QuantumWorks.

Fuck it, I might die tommorrow: I was listening to the Pretty in Pink soundtrack on patrol tonight. Okay? Everybody happy?

Again, not gay.

9 comments:

Verity Kindle said...

The one going really insane with rage is probably now all crying, because he's a Robert Goulet fan and he now thinks that his idol hates him. Maybe it will make him rethink his life, quit the Paracrime: Special Hosers Unit and get a real job.

veqz1ldwo93iidd said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Faceless Henchwoman said...

It's okay, Maurader. Listening to the _Pretty In Pink_ soundtrack doesn't mean you're gay. Really.

It means you're middle-aged, verging on old.

(What? Don't look at me that way. I'm *evil*. I get to say things like that.)

j3rry said...

Did VM Die a horrible bloody death on the 9th floor? Is Dave to busy to post to his step-blog? Did Kobra delete the posts before I could read them? WTF? 2 Months? (En Espanol: Dos Meses?"

Zoot Koomie said...

j3rry, I see you're reading this blog from Earth Omicron. You might not know that VM is in another dimension.Your dimension has been moving away from VM's dimension for a few months. Time flows at different rates in different dimensions and the relative rates vary depending on how those universes are flowing through the megaverse. (I know it should be called the multiverse or something like that. Don't blame me; I didn't name it. If I did, we wouldn't be on Earth Upsilon and I wouldn't keep getting mystic wrong numbers from people looking for Zoot Suit Koomie on Earth Epsilon.) It's probably still June 18th for VM.
It's still June 18th for me, but, to tell the truth, I don't know if this blog comes from my universe's Velvet Marauder. His interdimensional ISP scrambles the harmonics a bit to avoid the attention of things man was not meant to know, if you know what I mean and I think you do. You know, I could show up in Evergreen City and the VM there might have never heard of me despite my occasional posts here.

Anyway, these things go in cycles so you can probably expect VM's timeline to start catching up with yours pretty soon.

Zoot

Velvet Marauder said...

I think that's as good an explanation as any. My last update was on August 14th in your universe; I haven't forgotten, I promise!

razorsmile said...

So immature, so funny ...

*shakes his head in avuncular amusement*

GeneHa said...

I haven't actually read this entry, I just wanted to leave a comment. I'm still working through your 2004 stuff.

I'm really enjoying your blog. More than I enjoy Astro City! Frankly, I'm pretty burnt out on most superhero comics, even by my favorite writers. But I'm really getting into your blog.

I'm curious if you've ever seriously considered writing a comic book? I'm the artist for Alan Moore's Top 10 [ http://www.geneha.com/ ] Drop by my "Mailroom" page and drop me a line. I'd love to by email.

Gene Ha
Oak Park, IL, Earth-1

Velvet Marauder said...

Gene Ha? The Gene Ha? I'll drop you a line, thanks for the comments!