Episode 1: The Tooth Fairy

Do you believe in the Tooth Fairy?

Episode 1: “The Tooth Fairy”

            Have you ever believed in anything? I’ve always had trouble doing so. I remember back when my real parents used to trick me into believing that the tooth fairy was real. The thought of the tooth fairy always disturbed me. A flying creature breaking into your house to gather and treasure your nasty a*s teeth? No thank you. I’ll pass on that one. And don’t even get me started on god and religion. Half of the time, I barely even believe in myself so how could I believe in any god?

            My real dad would always make a big deal out of the tooth fairy. He was a dentist so it made sense. I wish I could go back to those days. Before bad things happened. I wish I could remember my parents’ faces. How could I be so forgetful...

           

            “Alright, you losers, take everything off of your desk!” yelled Mr. Johnson, my Chemistry teacher.

            “Time to watch a video about chemical bonding! I know, fun right?”

            Mr. Johnson is awesome. He’s younger than most of the teachers at Nautilus High and knows most of us hate chemistry so he tries to make it fun for us sometimes. He watches Breaking Bad on AMC so he always makes jokes about being a meth cook. He impersonates the characters during his lectures sometimes and it’s just so hilarious. He even plays video games and secretly watches Pokémon on Cartoon Network. We all know he watches it.

            He doesn’t play games and watch the same shows as his students just to be cool; he watches them because he’s actually interested in that kind of stuff. He brings his Xbox to the classroom sometimes so my friends and I can play Halo 4 during lunch. Mr. Johnson is really good at Halo 4. In fact, I’m positive that Halo 4 is the reason he takes forever to grade tests.

            After watching the video, the bell rang and everybody stormed through the door for lunch. I always bring a lunch to school, because sometimes I don’t trust the cafeteria food to be honest. My friends and I sit by the dumpsters because there’s a concrete wall that we can all sit on. My best friend is Sean Anderson. He’s into nerdy stuff like me. In fact, all of my friends are into nerdy stuff like me, but Sean is a really cool guy. He’s the only person in my group of friends that has a girlfriend so we all worship him like a god. There’s also Nick, Randy, and Jason. Nick has always had social troubles, but we’re nice to him because we know what that’s like. Yeah he’s a little weird, but once you get to know him, he’s a really nice guy. Randy is a huge six feet five inches tall and he’s a football player. He’s was a foster kid like me, so sometimes he says that he wants to meet his real parents. I try not to talk about mine, because I’ll start to get emotional and then I’ll have to leave. Jason is the funny guy of the group. He’s a little Asian guy that everybody loves. He works at his dad’s Chinese restaurant across the street from the ice cream parlor where I work. We both have work right after school so we walk down nautilus together after school everyday.

            The ice cream parlor is a nice place. It’s old, stinks sometimes, and has only been robbed at gunpoint twice so far this year. My boss is kind of an a*s. His father opened this place in 1974 and it used to be an awesome hangout spot for the teenagers after school. This place used to make a lot of money, but now it’s kind of a dump. His father left the shop to him when he died in 2004. All my boss ever does is drink himself away and beat on his wife. I know for a fact that he’s into drugs because I’ve seen him buy them from a kid behind the shop as I was taking out the trash. I’ve always wanted to bust him and his little dealer friend, but then I wouldn’t have a job anymore to pay for Red Falcon gear. Kind of ironic really…

            I really wish the ice cream place would go up again. People come in every now and then, but business is always kind of slow, so I read comic books all day while I make my amazing vanilla ice cream. Sometimes I steal the mix to make at home for my foster mother and I. Guilty me. Maybe I should turn myself in. My foster father loved the ice cream too, but sadly he passed away from heart failure about a year ago.

            I live with a few other foster kids at home. I don’t get to see them that often because I’m always out and my foster mom is always going out and taking them places. They don’t bother me that much because I live in the garage that was turned into a guesthouse. They’re a lot younger than I am. The oldest one is almost six years old. I’m really not that good with little kids anyway. My foster mother’s name is Jenny. She’s always busy at her work or dealing with the kids so that kind of works out for me. She’s a nice woman though. She knows about my past so she kind of understands me and lets me do my own thing around the house.

I usually head out at about 10:30 pm. I tell Jenny that I have astronomy club at the observatory or something. Then I put on my red motorcycle helmet, red gloves with metal knuckles, my bulletproof vest, my army boots, tazer, my beautiful red cape, and my gun to go and get the bad guys.

Well there’s a little narrative of how my daily routine goes. It’s usually about the same thing every day.

 

“See you later, that’s the bell. Have a good day and don’t forget to read chapter seven,” said Mr. Woods, My English teacher.

I get up and leave class. Mr. Woods is my sixth period class so now school is over. I have a Help-the-Homeless club after school every Friday. I still help the homeless sometimes because it still makes a bit of a difference without having to worry about getting my head blown off. Always a good deal. I’ve even made friends with some of the homeless people around town. I also frequent that club because a girl named Jessica Costanza is the president of the club. She… is so fine. So fine. She’s also a senior and she’s good at leading the club. I don’t have any classes with her and I’m way too scared to say hi to her in the hallways.

There are SO many things that I am not afraid of. I have had guns in my face, shots fired at me, and I’ve even taken a crowbar to the collarbone. But when it comes to talking to women. What the hell? Why are they so scary? It’s not like they’re mystic creatures from the hidden forest out to kill me. I wish I could talk to her and get to know her more. She’s not just pretty and gorgeous; to me, she seems like a genuinely good person. She likes to read and is very passionate about writing.

There are these two a******s in the club that constantly harass her and whistle at her. I can tell it pisses her off. She gets really annoyed and yells at them wondering why they even joined the club in the first place. God she’s so pretty when she’s mad. Sometimes I secretly wish I could find her getting mugged in town and I could then fly in and save her. Carry her in my arms and fly out into the sunset. But that’s just me. I don’t know. Maybe it’ll happen someday.

Well after an hour of sitting in a room with caring people, two annoying idiots, and a hot Mexican girl… time for the weekend.

The weekend is Red Falcon’s friend. Foster Mother Jenny works late, no work at the ice cream parlor, and high school and college parties full of drugs are in session.

It’s 10:00pm and now I’m ready. Ready to switch lives and become that man standing in the poster.

I love my motorcycle. It’s so reliable. It’s so red, tough, and beautiful. If it were a woman, I would marry it. I really would. Then I put on my red helmet and close the tinted visor. When I close that visor, I become a different person. A different being, a being you should be so, so afraid of.

When I close the lid, you can’t see my face. The Red Falcon has no face. When you stare at him, you don’t stare him in the eye. The Red Falcon has no eyes. You just look at him and wonder. That face can be whatever person, memory, thing, or terror you interpret it to be. That’s the art of the Red Falcon’s face. You look at it. Then the fear sets in and haunts you. It shows you real and true evil. That face becomes the last thing you see before your world goes black.

Now I have started my engine. Time to ride.

I’ve mentioned before that the police know the Red Falcon. Well so do the criminals and leaders of organized crime. I have both sides chasing after me. Yay. Most of the cartels call me the Red Demon. It’s kind of a cool name really. I guess I just “give them hell.”

As I cruise down Pearl Street, I turn on Eads Avenue and notice a man standing in a parking lot next to his Harley Davidson. I quickly hide in the shadows and keep and eye on him. The whole street is dark except for the one streetlight above the smoking man. He’s just standing there. Looking around. I can tell that he’s waiting for someone. He keeps looking around and out into the street. He’s wearing a bandana and has a long beard. I snap a quick picture with my camera. It’s only been 30 seconds and now I know his face and license plate number.

Finally, after about 45 minutes, a sedan drives into the parking lot and the man with the bandana leans into the passenger window for a couple minutes. I’m watching you now, Mr. Bandana Guy.

Out of nowhere, I see him sprint away and then I hear gunfire. Three pops go off into the air. Mr. Bandana Guy falls down and begins to scream at the top of his lungs.

I jump down and run across the street. The car speeds away, causing smoke to form in the air. The smoke smells SO bad. It smells like death. Which might happen to this man tonight. I rush to Mr. Bandana Guy to see if he’s alive. He looks at me with terror, but I tell him to calm down and that everything will be okay. He’s been shot in the chest. I’m trying to press his wound down to stop some of the bleeding. He keeps telling me not to call the police.

“No police. Don’t tell them I’m here.” Huffed the man.

“You need help, I’m calling an ambulance. Do you WANT to die tonight?” I ask him.

“Of COURSE I don’t want to die.”

“I don’t want you to die either. Can you tell me who those men were?”

“They wanted to buy some meth. It was kind of a big deal because there was a large quantity of it. I gave them the bag so they could test it. Then they shot me and drove off. I worked hard for that meth. I really needed that money. Wait. Why am I telling you this?”

“Are you from around here?” I ask him.

“I’m from Alpine. Why?”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Are you a cop? Or are you an angel or my savior?” the man said in a sarcastic tone.

“Heh, to be honest, some people think the opposite of me.”

“I can see that.”

“What is that supposed to mean!? Er"how much was the bag worth?”

“15,000 dollars.”

“Ooohhhh. I’m gonna go call an ambulance okay?”

“Are the police coming?”

“Dude, your career in this business is over. I’m sorry to tell you that. At least you’re alive.”

“Figures.”

I ran to the payphone and called 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?” said the emergency operator.

I remained silent and left the phone hanging from the cord. The police and an ambulance should come soon now. I ran back to the man to check on him. As soon as I look at him, I see him yell and point in the opposite direction. There was even more terror in his face.

I look behind and see three figures running toward us from the darkness. I can barely even see them, but I get ready for a fight. I close my eyes for a second, take a deep breath, and stand before them. Guarding the life of a complete stranger.

They’re all armed with aluminum baseball bats. Great. Just great. Those things could probably break my helmet. I slowly pull out my nightstick and tazer. I can hear the sirens getting louder and louder in the distance. I just have to hold them off until help arrives. Hopefully with paramedics.

The first silhouette runs to me at full speed and swings. I slide to the right and it feels like slow motion. He misses. I rip the bat from his arms and crack him in the back of the head. Strike one. The second man comes from my left and hits the back of my helmet before I can turn all the way around. I whip him in the throat with my nightstick and taze him. He falls to the ground unconscious. Strike two. The third man comes out of nowhere and whips me on the left side of my head hard enough for one of my teeth to fall out. Part of my helmet is broken and my tooth falls onto the pavement. I fall onto my hands and knees. I hear the third man run away into the darkness. I pick up my tooth for a second and look at it. Finally, an ambulance races into the parking lot and now the third silhouette has disappeared.

There aren’t any police yet, so I can stay a minute or two longer. I run back to the bandana man. The paramedics are putting him on a stretcher. I tell them what had just happened and that they should report it. The man in the bandana begins to speak.

“They work for a man named Kavanagh. I might as well just tell you now.,” the man grunted.

“Thank you for telling me this. I can tell you’re a good man. You deserve more than this.”

“I don’t, I’m the one that chose this lifestyle, kid. It was going to happen eventually. My name is John by the way. I never got your name by the way.”

I smiled and said, ”You’ll find out who I am.”

I take another look at my broken tooth and throw it back into the parking lot. I run to my motorcycle and storm off down Eads Avenue. I ride back home in my broken helmet. I need to find out who this Kavanagh person is. My mouth hurts. What a rough night. I get undressed and get into my bed. i cleaned out the spot where my tooth used to be. It was a molar so nobody should notice. I also have a spare helmet and now I need a new tazer. Time for sleepy time.

After a good four hours of sleeping, I wake up to hear someone a knocking on my door. I look in the window to see who’s there. There was no one at the porch. I look around again to see if it was one of the kids playing around. Was it a cat or something? I think It’s nothing until I look down at the welcome mat and terror flows through my body. To see my broken tooth from the parking lot lying there, in the moonlight.

Somebody saw me. Somebody followed me here. Somebody else knows who I am. Is it Kavanagh? Who the hell put this here?

It’s gonna be a long weekend.