6: John Cute Makes a Friend

Previously on We’re Not in Edison City Anymore, Samuel Superlative the Third has returned to the city, only to learn that time runs slower here than in the world he just left! Meanwhile back on his world, Sam Superlative Jr. has reached the humanoid colony just as it comes under attack! Our story continues in a moment, but first a commercial word!

Edison City, Present Day

Evening had fallen, and in one particular neighborhood there was an added air of gloom and undefinable dread that cast a pall over the streets and made the very shadows strange. The neighborhood’s residents had gotten used to it; for one thing, the undefinable dread lent a nice chill to the area so you could cut your A/C and save on your electric bills during the summer. For another, the strange shadows weren’t so bad once you got used to them, and they helped to keep away intruders during Edison City’s periodic crime waves.

The main thing about that particular neighborhood was you learned, very fast, that you had to leave the tenant of one particular house alone. You didn’t knock on the door to see if he (It) wanted to buy Girl Scout cookies, you didn’t include the house in trick-or-treating, and you didn’t offer to share any leftover dessert you might’ve made. Most days you tried not to look at all. If you did, after all, even once out of the corner of your eye, you might catch a glimpse of horror beyond imagination. For it was in that house in that befouled neighborhood that the dread Academic itself, Professor Cthulhu lived, and on this night the Professor was not happy.

Cthulhu had, as it happened, been watching the news. This might have made anyone unhappy, let alone the Scholarly Scourge of the Underworld, but tonight Its attention had been especially drawn to one story. A local channel that followed the city superhero beat had breathlessly reported late-breaking developments: “We can now confirm that local rookie cape Sam Superlative Jr., son of legendary hero Mr. Superlative, is believed to be lost in another dimension! More dramatically, an unauthorized source has leaked to our on-the-spot team that due to the time differentials it is believed to be impossible for Sam Jr. to ever return!”

The reporter had let that sink in for a beat, and then continued, “But the most shocking news of all tonight is this development, that the cape our team identified as appearing out of nowhere on the scene of Sam Superlative Jr's battle with Professor Irreconcilable Differences is none another than Sam Superlative the Third, which our experts believe means that he is Sam Jr’s son! We have reached out to Mr. Superlative for comment but so far the remarkable hero has not responded, and word on the street is he may be missing or even killed in action! We do not have word on when, or if, these two dramatically different people will meet, or how this has happened! Did Sam Jr. hook up with an alien? Was he cloned? At ten tonight, a special report into-”

The Professor had turned the channel off then, and brooded for a while in the sullen dark. Then Cthulhu said a few words, only three, but each one laden with deep burbling fury. “He owed me.”

There was a bang as the Professor’s door was kicked open. Hardly anyone in the city had the courage to do that: anyone in possession of their sanity, anyway. The Dread Academic turned to see who had transgressed upon Its urban domain.

“Hey,” John Cute said. “Sounds like you got screwed, pal. This Sam kid owed you a favor and split, yeah?”

There was a long pause, and even John Cute in his bravado trembled. Professor Cthulhu appeared to be deciding which of John’s vital organs to rend first, which the Professor was. But… but then the Professor considered.

“Why do you ask?”

John Cute relaxed, at least a fraction. “I need your help. In return I can help you get back at the Superlative guys. I read up on you. I know you don’t like to leave here, fine. I can do your dirty work. But-”

“You want power.”

“Yeah,” John said.

“You want to be a god.”

“Yeah, I do,” John said, trying to hide his excitement. He didn’t notice the subtle tones of distaste and loathing the Professor used. He probably should have.

“Done,” the Professor said.

An almost incomprehensible rumble swept through the house and rolled out through the city. No one noticed except the Green Moth, who had been talking intensely with Samuel Superlative III as they sat at a booth in a quiet greasy-spoon diner elsewhere in the city. She cut off right in the middle of a sentence and stared into space.

“Don’t worry,” Gaseous Girl said, “She does that.” The meet in the diner had been her idea, to take the pressure off and relax a little as the authorities tried to locate Mr. Superlative.

“Yeah, it’s her thing,” the Wombat said. “She’ll explain in a minute.”

Ron Raven looked thoughtful. “I don’t know, something seems a tad off-”

The Green Moth blinked, and then went almost skeletal pale with terror. “Something’s wrong,” she hissed. Then she leapt to her feet so fast that she overturned a glass of water, did a half spin to her left, and vanished.

“And she does that too, and she always forgets to tell us where she went!” Gaseous Girl said. She rose, as did the others, and Samuel did as well, feeling terribly awkward.

“I could listen for her vocal signature and track her that way, if that would help,” he offered as the Wombat waved down a waitress so they could pay and go.

“You can-oh, right, you’re a Superlative, duh,” Gaseous Girl said. “I can never remember what all y’all’s powers are.”

“Assuming she’s not in another dimension,” Ron Raven added dourly, making Gaseous Girl wince. She’d been hoping that wouldn’t come up again for a while. Before she could say anything, Samuel turned, closed his eyes, and listened.

He’d been listening to the Green Moth for the better part of the last fifteen minutes, at least, and he had an excellent memory. With superhuman focus he cut out the diner noises, the outside cars, the rest of the city traffic, the myriad overlapping voices of a half million souls in and around the city, the countless other beeps and whistles and shrieks and whooshes and dings and honks and phone chirps and fake guns and real guns and the smerp of kisses and other noises he tried not to think about and there-

He heard beeps, a steady rhythmic beeping, and an intercom calling a code of some sort or other, and rustling of papers and sheets, and then, there she was again: “Excuse me,” he heard her saying, “Where do you have Candystriper?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t release that information except to-”

He broke away, realizing where the Green Moth had to be. “Does this place have an infirmary? A med-bay of some kind?”

“St Cupertino,” the Wombat said. “It’s where they treat superheroes who’ve been hurt, but why-”

“Candystriper!” Gaseous Girl said. “Come on!”

They sprinted outside the diner. The Wombat dived into the ground without a look back. “You take him, I will find my own way,” Ron Raven said.

“He’s a Superlative, he can fly!” Gaseous Girl said, before launching into the sky herself, fire streaming behind her. Samuel lifted off after her, but looked back once to see if Ron needed help. To his surprise, Ron Raven had disappeared.

He shrugged and raced after Gaseous Girl, following her as they flew through the city sky towards the hospital, not knowing they were already too late.

Read the Next Episode.

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