“Goooooood morning Politan! This is Kirk Kirklandson, Politan Action AM news reporter, reporting to you live! I am here on site where our fair city’s hero has once again put a stop to yet another attempt by X-Cordion on our fair city, and what a sight this site is! In case you are just joining us, I’ll take this moment to recap what perspired here this morning at the corner of Politan Park and First.
“The first calls and reports came in as X-Cordion, that most dastardly of diehards, landed on the scene. Brandishing the X-Cord, an accordion that only someone as diabolical as he could construct, the villain laid waste to the yet to be finished 14th Bank of Politan. After viewing the destruction, it looks as if our fair citizens will have to wait for the 15th iteration before all their banking needs can be met.
“The rogue rapscallion unleashed a torrent of ill-tuned bedlam, felling the thankfully vacant construction site in one fell swoop. Laughing all the way like a devil with no cause to be had, X-Cordion made way to turn his rampage on the rest of our beloved home.
“But in a turn of events only found in the storybooks, salvation rained down in a flash of gold and purple. Neptone, the extraterrestrial hero who has come to call Politan home, landed down from the clouds and made his stand. Those who had gathered around the scene informed me that X-Cordion’s face quivered with fear at the mere sight of our hero.
“With the stage set and the sound checked, the battle of the one-man-bands commenced! X-Cordion once again prepared a strike from the X-Cord, but before those hideous notes could make their stanza, Neptone stole the down beat, spelling nothing but treble for the villain. Giving a powerful strum of his inverted-W axe guitar, Neptone proved once again that pure American Rock and Roll will always reign supreme. In less than a sixteenth-triplet, X-Cordion was left tacet, ears bleeding from the sweet signature of justice.
“Folks, I’m pleased as punch to tell you that Neptone himself has just joined me, and we’ll see if we can get a few words from him. Neptone, walk us through your latest overture in yet again saving our fair city of Politan.”
“Kirk Kirklandson, my man. It’s great to be here, as per usual—”
Jack Jackson shoved his palm into the off button of the radio. Boy howdy, he sure did hate the way that man talked. He wasn’t ungrateful, just annoyed. Politan was his home, and they were truly blessed to have a savior from the stars defending them from the likes of the resident evildoer. But the vernacular! The Accent! Jack was flummoxed. How did an interstellar superhero gain a Californian surfer accent this far from the West Coast? The nearest beach was a thousand miles away from their Midwest homeland. And he was no astronomer, but Jack was certain there were no sick waves out in the Milky Way.
Maybe it was just the mood he was in this morning. For starters, he was in traffic. Jolly Roger, did he hate traffic. Especially on a day like this. He needed to be in the offices of Jenaric Contracting. Superhero and supervillain conflicts that leveled infrastructure were the sole reason he had a job. His quiet little city would have no need of competing contracting firms without them. X-Corp, meanwhile, was all the way on the other side of town, illuminated by the big blue X on the only skyscraper in the city. He was no mind reader or fortune teller, but Jack Jackson was quite confident that their estimators were not stuck in traffic on a morning where buildings were in dire need of estimating.
Despite the traffic and radio broadcast, Jack was optimistic. Jenaric Contracting had a losing track record when it came to landing the big jobs. Sure, the little mom-and-pops and their broken windows and missing shingles kept them in the black, but they were nothing compared to the expected pay from banks and businesses. Today, he thought, today would be the day we land the big one!
As traffic crept along, he came upon the reason for the congestion. A short, squat little man in a mismatched and disheveled power suit holding a microphone drew in a crowd that rivaled a rock concert. Extending his short arms upward, the microphone was inches away from the hero himself. Long, tan and handsome, Neptone gave a side flick of his head, as shoulder length, sandy-blonde hair whipped around. His leotard, uncomfortably tight by Jack Jackson’s standards, glittered in the early morning sunlight. Smooth vermillion against a base of violet, the whole outfit only lacked a satin cape.
Instead, a braided leather strap supported the world’s most famous guitar, the three-toned purple, gold and white sunburst inverted-W axe with a maple fretboard. Jack Jackson didn’t know much about guitars, but he though it sure must be cumbersome to play. He did buy into the leading opinion that it was much more pleasant sounding that an accordion.
Neptone and the compact reporter Kirk Kirklandson shared a hearty laugh as Jack watched them from his window. Unable to contain himself or his curiosity, he flicked the broadcast back on, catching the last part of the conversation.
“…and the day was saved,” Neptone boasted. Jack could hear the crowd murmuring and cheering both through the radio and his closed windows. Most of the crowd noise was indecipherable, aside from one patron requesting that Neptone make a baby with her. That one got the gathering laughing.
“Now Neptone, we know you lead a busy life, and we won’t hold you here much longer. But, and I know the crowd will back me up here, we can’t let you leave without one little jam.” Kirk Kirklandson’s request so enthused the audience that their raucous cheers shook the windows of Jack’s old car.
“Well, Kirk my man, you know me all too well.” Neptone flung his golden locks over his shoulders with a flick, as he swung the guitar to the ready. Even without an amplifier the Surfin’ Superhero blistered out a mind melting solo, culminating with an extended hold on the highest of high notes. The frequency ran through the streets and every window on every building and vehicle, Jack’s included, shattering into a falling rain of shattered glass, prompting cheers from the audience.
Dusting the shards of glass off his lap, Jack Jackson let out a curse, “Jumpin’ Jack Flash! Superhero? More like superzero.”