Patron - Mini-Round - Hewie's Hobo Hero

George’s head hurt. It wasn’t a pain from hitting it, however, though surely back where his body was he’d have that to look forward to as well. No, George’s head hurt from the buzz of voices in his skull, living and dead ones alike, rambling on and echoing everywhere around him. The darkening evening was usually a calm and quiet place for this side of town, but wherever he was now, this was not a comfortable place for him to be.

“You don’t know how we can get back? Phantom, I’m too joe’d for this, and we were poisoned! There’s no time, we need to split this now!”

“Look, I said call me Lewis, and don’t yell at me! This is new, whacky as my powers are this isn’t what it reads on the can!”

George was angry, but it was really hard to keep that anger directed at Lewis here. The guy looked ready to cry some of the time and ready to run the rest. There was no denying this fix was to do with him though, what with all the ghosts and only being able to see each other. George ran a dirty glove through his own messy hair and groaned.

“Lewis, alright, you can call me George, but not anywhere but here. Wherever here is, ‘cause I’m not all certain we’re dead. It sure don’t feel like I gave a kiss off,” George muttered, looking down the street. He watched another fellow drift right on through a wall. It was really disorienting. He followed after it and carefully listened up against the wall, trying to get a better scope of the rattling echoes. They were coming from all directions and he really couldn’t focus on any. The stone wall, though, helped to narrow it down. It gave echoes somewhere to bounce.

“I don’t think we’re dead either, the ghosts I see can see each other fine, and talk. But then I’ve never died before,” Lewis stepped over towards George and the wall nervously. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh, would you clam up your gob a second?”

Lewis stood there silent and awkward while George listened.

Did you hear that commotion down in the ground? It could have been the pipe!

It’s gotta be the tournament, man! There were meat wagons out of there like clockwork.

I’m staying clear of him, ya know, if he calls on you it’s just months more of this drab old town. – I hear ya, Brian. I’m finally drifting off these sore bones.

Who went down? I wish we knew what them Supers were sent out to do! The council’s keepin’ it all mum’s but how are we Citizens supposed to know what’s going on in our own city?! The Patron is for us, not for them!

Shindig tonight is going to be swinging, Rach! Bring the boys.

Oh I don’t deserve this, why oh why…

I saw Ensign Phantom turn her in! He was paired with The Rubble Rouser right? Don’t tell me he had the whole plum sewers fall in on him? What a nuts way to go!

Peeping on a moll and she don’t see nothing! Hell bound or not, this is a fiiiiine send off! Heaven can kiss it!

Nah I don’t think the whole thing fell in, or how would they have fished out the bodies that fast!
My daughter… have you seen my daughter? Please, will someone answer me? My daughter..!

George felt a sinking pit in his stomach. Bodies and meat wagons? Was he somehow hospital bound with part of him lagging back here? Was this a strung out dream? It didn’t seem much like one of his dreams.

“Folks are saying you’re still up and nobby out there. You sure you don’t want to clear up this brodie and tell me what’s up, Lewis?”

Lewis’s face went all patsy as George glanced his way.

“What do you mean? I don’t know what’s going on, I’m right here with you! What’d folks say? There’s not anyone talking about what happened out here, are they in that house?”

“I’m not just bumping gums here, if you’ll believe me, I got more swinging for me than the knockin’ rocks. But gossip is gossip and I’ll only trust it as far as I can throw it. There were bodies, ambulances and the like mentioned though so a bit of urgency’d be good if you dig?”

“..So what do you talk to rocks now, too?”

George’s hand dragged down the side of his face in frustration.

“No, Phantom, I got more than one sort of super thing, and they don’t all ‘mount to rock mashing, alright?”

“It’s Lewis, and what else can you do? Do you have, like, gossip radar or mind reading?”

“Sure, call it that if you like. Point is, there’s some crumb being you out there and I’m only being called down and out. I wouldn’t take that at face value if I hadn’t heard it three times over.”

Lewis’s mouth stretched into an almost comical point between a grimace and a gasp.

“But how is that?!”

So many new faces, that tournament is sure bringing up the death count.

Getting late, do you want to spin back to the cave, just you and me?

Look, maybe we should take a walk. You need to blow off that steam.

Ensign Phantom’s on the move so someone else will have to take him. I will look for an opening on the Rubble Rouser once the shifts change.

What.
George’s head spun in another direction at the voice. There it was, and it was directly after him at the WORST time.  There was a faint clicking after it, like a phone hanging up. He cursed. That meant the trail was cold before he could even work out where it had come from.

“We have to move, right now. There’s someone after both of us.”

George straightened up and grabbed the other man’s wrist, heading right down an alley as he protested.


---

Hewie followed the ambulance to the hospital after they loaded The Rubble Rouser in. The boy skirted the edges of the hallways cautiously. He’d managed to not talk to any of the cleanly dressed medical workers by hovering on the side with families, or sitting in chairs for guests when someone came around a corner. There were plenty of people as dirty as him who ended up in the sick beds; he just needed to look like he wasn’t here alone. If the nurses thought he was supervised they wouldn’t ask what he was up to, because they didn’t actually care. They would only care if they thought a rule was broken and that they would be blamed.

Hewie found his room without raising anyone’s suspicion. He was listed as a John Doe, hospital policy for Supers even if they had a known alias, apparently. The policy was for official paperwork but also to avoid super-villains taking advantage of hero downtime. He took a seat across the hall in front of the room of a Mrs. Glover. Next to him a man was asleep, holding a copy of yesterday’s morning post.  Today’s had yet to be delivered.

He tapped his feet anxiously. They kept near the ground, poised to push off it, to run. Worried for the lug or not he would dangle it out of there if need be.

Eventually, a doctor stepped out of the room with a clipboard, a nurse or student beside him with a notepad. The boy craned his neck forward, trying to catch what was being said. Some words stuck out to him. Things like ‘asphyxiated’, ‘ingestion of toxins, possible carcinogens’, and ‘catatonic’ were given, and while he wasn’t sure what they all meant he knew they weren’t good. He also knew the guy wasn’t awake to tell the story.

The two walked down the hall and the door swung slowly back. He was on his feet in a flash, and his grimy sneaker found its hold in the doorway’s gap. A cursory glance over his shoulder confirmed that the workers had seen nothing. He ducked into the room.

The man on the bed was dressed in a patient’s smock, breathing slow and raspy. His muddy togs were in a pile on a chair, goggles on top. If it weren’t for those Hewie might not have recognized the mug right away. The fellow was cleaned up all smart, though his hair was still a sawn up mess. At least it was pulled off his face.

This was the same hobo hero who gave him the bacon, but at the same time it was someone else entirely. Someone who had told him to stay hidden in that sewer tunnel, and someone he didn’t really know. This was someone he would never know if things didn’t turn around soon.

“Wake up, Pally, the poison broad’s kicked it, yer done,” murmured Hewie as he balled his hands into fists. He didn’t care for no-one, living round with the likes of Kyle and Riverrat scum on the roads, but this was different. Something in the pit of his stomach was not sitting right about all this. This guy shouldn’t be the one lying here like a lunger.

“This brodie’s not gonna stand. That other hero, he… may as well be a hatchetman.” There was no reaction from the unconscious Super. Hewie slid his baseball cap off with one hand and rubbed at his eyes with the other. Damn tears were welling up again. What was wrong with him? “People gotta know ‘bout it, they-“

“What are you doing in here, son?”

He froze, eyes darting to the door. The doctor was back with the medical chart in hand, staring right at him. Hewie probably looked really out of place. His hair was greasy and tufted up, and his clothes needed a good wash a month ago.

“Oh nuts! Wrong room!”

Hewie tossed his cap at the doctor and bolted out the door behind him. He shoved through the halls as people stumbled out of his way. There were shouts behind him, but he didn’t turn back until he was long out of the building. It was dark out, but he knew where he had to be by morning.

---

They were going in circles, but George knew they were only a bit behind the guy. He’d heard him order a drink at a bar on Fidele, but by the time they got there he couldn’t hear him say anything to put a face to the voice. It didn’t help that Lewis was yammering during the whole affair. The scrub did have every right to be upset, hell George was steamed at the whole situation, but it was hardly helping them move forward. From his constant conversation the most George got was that he really didn’t understand his own powers, and was brand new to using them actively rather than passive. George would kind of be the same if he hadn’t been so interested in figuring them out in grade school since his secret held no real weight.

The trail had picked up again when the voice spoke with some woman, who declared which way Lewis had been seen going. The two split ways after George told him what he heard. Annoying as he was, at least when the opportunity stood the Drade kid knew he had to take it. George was making better time tracking the mysterious hitman on his own and in relative silence in the night. But the night was getting on, and the voices were quieting down, making way for woopie calls and tired night shift workers.

When the sun went up and the voices returned, George finally decided to give up on the guy and head for the hospital to see what was happening to the ‘him’ people could see.

Good morning, ladies and gents, this is your old friend Davy McCracken of the Diesel City News Hour—your friendly voice in the morning! Today we’re expecting the heat to come down a bit, and maybe even give us a touch of rain, so bring those umbrellas out or just let it cool you down. Yessir, it’s just what we’ve been needing with the fires and dust blowing round town.

George always got a weird headache from radio echoes since they came from everywhere someone was listening at once, and bounced, reverberated and distorted like someone speaking through the blades of a ceiling fan. He kept his pace on the main road, and avoided folks even though he could go through them. The sensation was unsettling and hardly worth getting used to.

Now folks, today I have a guest with news on a candidate for the Diesel City Patron Tournament! That’s right, he saw something go down just last night and has the intimate details on the undoing of the Widowmaker who was threatening our proud citizens! Now it’s a little unorthodox but he wants to tell it good and straight right here live in the News Hour, wouldn’t give squat without an interview! So, young man, what’s your name and where did you hear about this villain’s downfall. –
My name don’ matter, but I witnessed that lady taking on two heroes down in the pipes.

George stumbled right through a newspaper delivery boy and stood shaking his head at the feeling for a few seconds. Even with the reverb he knew that was Hewie. He grinned a little, glad the kid got out of there unharmed. Still though, it didn’t make sense for him to be interviewing about it. The boy was quick out of trouble as soon as it came his way from what the barber had gathered.

No name? Well then I’ll call you Pigeon for the listeners at home, fits a small tale teller like yourself. Now, which two heroes did you see down in the sewers for this daring deed? Who came out on top? Is the villainess in police custody? –
No she ain’t, and ‘ll tell you why, the doggy Ensign Phantom righ’ blew through her head with a gat.

There is a pause, probably a stunned moment from Davy and the producers. That wasn’t exactly approved radio talk. Hewie must have been much more polite when he talked them into letting him in there.

Pigeon, you must be in shock over it. So Ensign Phantom stopped her then? –
Yeah but he had help, not that he thanked anyone for it. The Rubble Rouser was down there fighting too. –
Ahh so that means our muddy fire starting competitor the Rubble Rouser is out? You heard it here first, folks, on Diesel City News Hour!

Clearly, McCracken was trying to steer this back into a favourable light for the programme. Hewie would have none of it.

More than out, the genius landed up in the hospital, no thanks to that ghost talker! His costume might be smooth but he ain’t care at all ‘bout folks getting hurt, just cares ’bout winning. Look, I don’ give a snipe butt about this tournament, but the Patron matters in the end and this is a mess of pills making sending out goons to duke it! The citizens need someone who puts people before that.
-
Son, you are talking about a very reckless Super. He set a fire to catch a criminal less than a week ago.
-
He didn’t set that fire I- I saw that, and he didn’t set it and no one but him, the criminal and that copper were inside by then! From what I heard that ain’t the case with Ensign when he was on Fidele, and I trust my source. The ladies and gents you gab at are who should be lookin’ at all this, not th’ nuts council, and if we were pickin’ for the right the Rubble Rouser’d be top o’ the lis-
-
I’m sorry folks but we’re going to have to wrap up early, but enjoy an encore of Sunday’s episode of The Adventures of Captain Crow! Trading one bird for ano-
-
You can’t just cut me off, you booshwasher! Folks’ll care, they gotta! That bum hero’s the only reason I didn’ get crushed, he-

The programme cuts out and the theme tune on the recorded serial drama start up, with a cheery piano jingle and singer stating the name of the fictional hero and his great exploits, like flying and apparently riddle talking. Voices from all over the places echoed and buzzed with comments about what they had just heard, and the story was lost in it.

Why did the council do this tournament anyhow if what that kid said is right? Is the patron gonna be some good for nothing with a gat? -
The citizens are involved though! That’s the point right?-
Involved? We hardly get to know what they are up to. It’s all hush-hush, just like with Strike. Died dossing, hah!

The Rubble Rouser, isn’t that the guy who’s a dirty wreck? Who’d want him to be Patron. -
Shhh, Captain Crow is starting, mum! I missed it last weekend because of Nona’s visit.

He looked friendly and strong enough. Why can’t they just name him Patron?

McCracken really shouldn’t have let an untested source on the show. That just leads to trouble. I would have expected th- Oh hello sir, visiting hours aren’t until 9. –
I was just wondering if my friend might have been signed in, I heard he got knocked out last night and doesn’t carry ID, can I know if any John Does were admitted? –

George snapped to attention. That was a conversation at the hospital, which he was yards away from entering and that was the man whose voice he was following. George broke into a sprint towards the entrance. He stumbled in through the doors, and it would have been dramatic and head-turning if anyone there could see him. The whole foyer gave the slightest quiver however, pens rolling off counters and feet shaking. A man at the desk turned warily, the only one to take notice. In his hands was a clipboard list of names and rooms that the secretary was scrabbling to snatch back.

“…Did you feel that, Miss?”

George now had a face to match to the voice. The man had a short nose, black hair and pointed chin, and his eyes behind a pair of shades. He was dressed in unassuming work clothes, and his hand twitched at the edge of his pocket while he glanced back down at the clipboard. He scanned it over and shoved it back at the woman behind the counter.

“Thank you for the help.”

Detective Mayhew had it right, this tournament needs to be settled by law enforcement, not a bunch of armed hooligans who want cash. But is the Rubble Rouser any better?

HELP US CAPTAIN CROW! The EVIL Tin Ear is attacking the school dance! He has the prom royalty on the roof! –
It’s alright, Gary, at that height it will be SIMPLE to give that Ear a pop! Keep the alligators swimming and the dance will go on!

He started down the hall, at which the woman looked distressed.

“There are no visitors until 9, you will have to wait.”

George slammed a hand on the table and everything shook as he craned to see the clipboard. It seemed that his earthquake power could break the confines of his limbo, just like the echoes, even if he was more or less incorporeal in this state. He had to head off this conspirator. This time the secretary noticed the shake and cried out, but the man was already down the hall. He spotted the room number victoriously. The only John Doe was on the 3rd floor.

Daddy, what was that sound? – It’s alright, honey.

You know, I knew there was something wrong with that tournament since they announced it. They should know which Supers are decent already, why round up the nobodies?

Do you want some flakes for breakfast, Adam? This is the last of them.

You think that Ensign Phantom guy really is a hired gun? That kid seemed to think so.

George raced through people and into the fire escape stairwell. His hasty departure punctuated by shivering structure. There was no real damage; he wasn’t trying to cause any, more like a strong window shaking the windows and rooms.

He made it to the top, and staggered into the hall. He couldn’t see the man from the lobby anywhere. He must have been quicker than him. Hurriedly George went down the hall, and came to room 304, the one he read. He froze. What was he expecting on the other side?

None of them will ever be as good as Strike!

All these Supers on the streets, it’s dangerous! I’m with Drade, we should be limiting these bastards!

The Rubble Rouser’s gonna get better, you’ll see. He might not be Patron, but at least no matter who wins we’ll know there’s a fair play hero out there. –
Only so long as he doesn’t knock down the place, have you seen him in action?

Wake up, you are going to be late for school!

George would have stood there, listening to echoes and considered it painstakingly, then and there, if the door wasn’t hanging open. The man stood in the room, and in his hands were the goggles from the muddy costume.

George stormed in.

Go home, kid! –
Toss it, you radio buzzers, think you know everything! You can’t stop people from having their own ideas, as much as you want to! Yer all wet!