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“You’re serious?”
The kid nodded.
Jason could only stare.
How the hell was he supposed to pull this off?
How the hell was he supposed to pull this off without getting killed?
Maybe he could reason with him. He seemed mature for his age.
“That would be pretty dangerous. For a lot of people. What about Captain Righteous? He’s almost a regular at this hospital.”
The kid’s face fell. For a moment he looked sad then a little... angry.
“Nevermind. I don’t want anything.”
Jason felt like he had been punched in the gut. His eyes fell on the kid’s chart.
He couldn’t pronounce the diagnosis even if he wanted to.
All he knew was that Mark Wilson was 12 years old with a malignant brain tumor and he was getting blasted in the head with radiation so that he could live.
Jason stood up.
“You know what? I won’t promise you that I’ll get him but I promise that I will do my damnedest.”
Mark turned back to Jason. His head cocked slightly to the side, studying him before finally asking, “Really? You’ll really try?”
Jason nodded. “Yes. I will do my best to get the Gentleman Bastard to visit you.”
Mark gave him a smile. “Cool.”
Jason turned and walked out of the kid’s hospital room.
When he got to his car in the parking lot, instead of starting the engine he gripped the steering while staring out into space.
What hell had he just agreed to do?
-
Several days later:
-
Jason’s eyes had nearly permanently crossed from reading his computer screen. He had probably read every news article there was to read about this guy. While it was mildly interesting research, he still had no idea how to find the Gentleman Bastard
He had started showing up 20 years ago. He was implicated in dozens of crimes but only arrested once and that case had gotten tossed in less than 15 minutes due to circumstantial evidence. He continued to be person of interest to the police while living a ridiculously luxurious lifestyle.
His actual name was Thomas Beaumont. He referred to himself as “the Gentleman Bastard” because of his humble upbringing as a son of widowed French immigrant woman.
What the hell did Mark see in this guy?
They lived in a city with literal super heroes.
Why this guy?
There had to be more this. There had to be a reason for Mark wanting to meet this guy.
Jason sighed and began his research anew.
This time he kept it more generalized. At first he found mostly trash gossip sites. Not helpful.
There was a tag that he noticed over and over.
#thegentlemanstrikesagain.
He began to look for the tag. Not from major news sites. He looked for posts from actual people.
Within 30 minutes Jason began to see a different picture. There was post after post of the Gentleman Bastard actually helping people. Donations to cure research for life threatening diseases. Lawyers hired and getting justice for people who had obviously gotten screwed by a corporation. Smuggling medicine or supplies into refugee camps. It went on and on.
The few actual public records Jason could find stated all donations were made by “Anonymous”.
But people still knew.
Okay, that was kinda cool.
So, how to find this guy?
-
Jason had spent several weeks trying to arrange a meeting with the Gentleman. If the guy had a phone number, apparently he didn’t give it out. Jason tried going to the clubs and restaurants he was usually spotted at. They wouldn’t even let Jason in the door no matter how nice he dressed. None of the Gentleman’s associates were willing to talk to Jason to even pass on a message.
Jason never liked to play the “dying kid” card but no one seemed to give a shit.
He was starting to get pissed off.
There was a rumor of small dive bar in a very bad neighborhood that the Gentleman would sometimes go there. Hattie’s Pub it was called.
This place was also supposedly a neutral area for villains. Not the guys classified as full-blown-take-over-the-world-villains. More like take-over-the-city-villains.
Jason began to stake the place out. He hunkered down in his car to wait for the Gentleman.
-
The Gentleman showed up on day 6. He had dressed down for this part of town but it was definitely him. Jason gave him 15 minutes. Enough time to get into the bar and get a drink.
He got out of the car and headed for the bar.
-
He got in no problem. There wasn’t a bouncer. The pub was dimly lit. The tables and chairs were the cheap kind. Probably easier to replace when a fight broke out. Judging by the cracked mirrors, shards and bullet holes in the walls, fights broke out often.
Everyone in the bar looked like they would have no qualms about eating Jason for breakfast. Even the waitresses.
Jason spotted the Gentleman at the bar. He seemed to be watching whatever was playing on an old mounted TV.
Normally Jason would have been nervous about asking this guy to make a visit on behalf of Wishes Granted but having gotten kicked out of too many places, been called too many things by stuck up assholes and lost too much sleep, he didn’t feel nervous.
Walking up to him, Jason cleared his throat.
The Gentleman didn’t turn.
“Excuse me, sir?”
The Gentleman took a drink of his beer.
“Mr. Beaumont?”
“Not interested, kid,” the Gentleman said without looking at him.
“What?”
“Whatever you want from me, you can’t afford. Now piss off.”
Jason took a breath to calm himself. It had taken him weeks to get here. He just needed to explain.
“Mr. Beaumont, my name is Jason and I’m with-”
Now the Gentleman turned to him. His eyes were sharp and angry. There was an outline of a gun underneath his jacket. Fear crept up Jason’s spine.
“Listen kid,”
The bar had gone silent. Everyone was watching them. The Gentleman held Jason’s gaze. For the first time, it occurred to him that he could die trying to talk to this guy.
“I don’t care about whatever you want or are offering. Get lost. Do not make me repeat myself.”
Jason could imagine a multitude of threats at the end of the that sentence that didn’t need to be said.
Instead of becoming more frightened; the anger he had been feeling grew inside his chest and suddenly burst out.
“You selfish asshole,” Jason spat.
The world stopped in that moment. No one dared to even breathe.
The Gentleman blinked. “Excuse me?” he asked softly.
Well... Go big or go home.
“You heard me you arrogant son of a bitch. I’m not here for you. I’m here for him!”
Jason shoved his phone in the Gentleman’s face. It showed a picture of Mark.
A too skinny, too pale boy with no hair in a hospital attached to several IV’s and tubes. He was smiling with all too obvious pain in his eyes.
“This kid has a tumor in his head that’s trying to kill him and he has to get blasted with radiation so he can live. He should be playing baseball. But instead he’s fighting for his life!
“And you know who he wanted to meet? Not Captain Righteous, not Storm Queen, he wanted to meet you.”
Jason lowered his phone.
“So now I have to go back to the hospital and tell a dying boy that his hero is nothing but human shaped garbage. Hopefully he’ll live through the disappointment.”
He felt like a dick using Mark like that. It was cheap and something shitty people did.
The Gentleman was a shitty person.
He turned to leave as his anger bled away. He began to pray silently.
Jumping in a front of a moving semi would have been a smarter thing to do than mouth of to a villain in front of his face... while in a crowded bar.
There was a very loud click next to his ear.
Fuck.
“Who do you work for?”
Jason’s mouth had gone dry. “Wishes Granted. We’re a non-profit that—”
“You expect me to believe that? You should have thought up with something more plausible before coming to me. And now you’re boss is going to lose a henchman.”
“I’m not a hench—OW!”
The pistol smacked against Jason’s head
“Let’s step out to the alley. I promised Hattie I wouldn’t make another forensic mess.”
Jason’s stomach dropped as his heart tried to jump out of its rib-cage.
“Move!”
Jason’s legs moved of their own accord. He walked towards the back of the bar and out the emergency exit. Apparently his brain had really checked out.
Not only had he mouthed off to a known villain but he couldn’t think of a single way to get out of this situation.
At least he had documented his last month in emails. They should be able to find them and piece everything together. Maybe the case would even stick this time.
The door slammed shut with a loud finality.
He turned around.
The Gentleman regarded him from behind his pistol.
“Look man,” Jason babbled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” well he actually had but whatever. “I just got really mad and again, I’m really sor-”
“Which hospital?”
“...what?”
“Which hospital? What room?”
“St. Michael’s. On 2nd and Long Avenue. Room 717 ICU.”
“Seven seventeen,” the Gentleman repeated to himself.
What was happening?
The gun disappeared inside his jacket again.
“I will say this, kid, you have got some balls on you. So here is your first and final warning. Embarrass me like that again and I will kill you. Understood?”
Jason didn’t trust himself to speak. He nodded adamantly.
“And if this turns out to be a set up, there will be nothing left of you for anyone to find. Is that understood?”
“Wait... does this mean you’ll go?”
The Gentleman just glared at him.
Jason gulped. “Understood.”
“Good.” The Gentleman Bastard turned around and went back into the bar.
On numb legs Jason walked back to his car. He opened the door, got in and began to laugh hysterically.
-
“He really said that?”
Mark’s eyes were very wide by the end of Jason’s story.
“He did.”
“So... do you think he’ll come?”
Jason smiled. “Yeah, I think he will. But keep it on the DL. Precautions, you know?”
Mark nodded.
-
It was 6 months later when Deloris called him into her office.
She indicated for him to sit in one of the cheap guest chairs. Jason sat. Deloris steepled her fingers as she studied him.
“I have to say I’m impressed Jason. I never knew you were so resourceful.”
“Uh... what?”
Deloris handed him a newspaper. The front page showed... it was Mark and the Gentleman Bastard. They were throwing up peace signs with huge grins in a selfie. There were bouquets of flowers all over the room.
Jason had never seen Mark look so happy. He smiled to himself.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said as he handed back the paper.
“Indeed,” Deloris deadpanned. “Well then, here is your next case.”
Jason felt his gut twist. There were always more cases.
He opened the file.
Her name was Emily Baxter. She was 7 years old and in a coma for a car crash. Her big sister Sarah had filled out the request. She wanted to meet....
“SERIOUSLY?!”
Deloris’ expression never changed.
Jason was suddenly reminded of a quote from his favorite book.
The reward for a job well done is another job.
“Brain Power? She wants to meet Brain Power?!”
Deloris nodded.
“For the love of—WHY?!”
“I suggest you ask her. Your appointment is at 10:30 tomorrow morning.”
Jason groaned. Loudly.