Road Rage
by Viking

"PATRIOT CITY CRIME RATE HITS NEW HIGH"

Robert Cavanaugh read the paper's headline and sighed. It was nothing new. Patriot City was always suffering from muggings, thefts, armed robberies, and any other number of crimes.

"Still, it's home," thought Robert as he walked down the street. He idly tossed the paper into a nearby trash can, and wondered where he should spend the Saturday afternoon. His meandering had brought him near the Patriot City Park, a known haven for thugs. Still, it was nice scenery to view from a distance - if you didn't mind looking through the protective bars of the fence. He was about ten feet away from the sturdy gates when a commanding voice grabbed his attention.

"FOR FREEDOM!!!"

Robert peered through the bars, curiously. Inside the park was a muscular stranger wearing a star-spangled blue coat, mask, and tri-cornered hat. He had just brought a metallic staff down hard on another man's skull, who dropped a baseball bat and crumpled to the ground with an unfinished curse. Seeing that the blue-coated stranger was now approaching the gates, Robert took a few hesitant steps back.

The colorful stranger paused by the gates as well, as if confused by them. He seemed to be in a rush. Raising his staff, he let out a fervent cry of "Right makes Might!" before smashing it against the iron bars. The gate provided little resistance, and collapsed with a piercing screech.

Stunned, Robert could only watch in shock as the stranger quickly ran through the now gaping hole in the park's fence and across the street. His caution fleeing for the moment, he shook a fist at the apparent vandal and yelled out, "It's called a gate, you freak! Try opening it like the rest of us next time!"

Robert was about to throw another insult when he saw the blue-coated stranger stop across the street, where he casually ripped up a traffic light from the sidewalk. Robert hastily cut himself short as the man swung his makeshift club in a huge arc, sending three bat-wielding thugs flying.

"This guy definitely has his hat on way too tight," muttered Robert. Suddenly, spending the rest of the afternoon at home seemed like a very good idea. He started to cross the street, and was nearly run over by a speeding car that honked a belated warning as it passed. Without a traffic light, the cars at the intersection were now having some difficulty determining the right-of-way.

Cursing softly to himself, Robert scanned the street carefully before hastily crossing. Fortunately, his car was parked several blocks away from all this mess. Robert shook his head as he saw the stranger dart into a dark alley, and made his way north.

As Robert walked down the city blocks, he grew more apprehensive. From a distance, he could hear gunfire and the screams of panicked citizens. Robert quickened his pace, nervously pulling his car keys from his pocket as he neared the street where he had parked his car.

Robert turned the corner, took a few steps, and then dropped his keys in shock. The blue-coated stranger was there and he was... picking... up... his... car!!! Robert's mouth opened and shut several times in succession, but no words came out. He could only watch in stunned silence as the stranger hurled his car across the street, where it plowed into two thugs that had been too engrossed in their own conversation to notice the metallic doom hurtling towards them.

Speech slowly began to return to Robert Cavanaugh. "That... that was..." he croaked.

The muscular stranger turned towards him, smiled broadly, and flashed him a thumbs-up. "Never fear, citizen!" he belted out. "These criminals will trouble you no more!"

"That... that was..." repeated Robert. His voice was returning, but his brain cells were still having difficulty putting together more words than that.

Still smiling, the stranger waved dismissively. "No need to thank me, friend. Just doing my duty to help the citizens of Patriot City. FOR FREEDOM!!!" With those words, the stranger held his staff into the air, where it impressively caught the light of the sun. After holding the pose for the few moments, the stranger then ran off, intent upon his mission.

Struggling mightily, Robert's brain cells finally rallied. "You jerk! That was my car!" Robert shouted angrily at the retreating figure. "At least have the decency to tip it upright again!"

Robert's shoulders sank in resignation. Mournfully, he looked at his car, now tipped on its side. The windshield was cracked like a crazed spiderweb, the headlights were both broken, and a thin wisp of smoke curled up lazily from underneath the hood. Robert ran his fingers through his hair, and then trudged off to find a phonebooth and call a tow truck.

A month later...

Robert cursed as he drove down the streets of Patriot City. His car was more or less repaired, but it was temperamental now and tended to stall if it went idle for too long. Since the fateful day that his car was first wrecked, Robert had been unable to determine if things had gotten better or worse. He had to admit, the thugs no longer roamed the streets so openly any more. The blue-coated stranger, apparently called Minute Man, had assembled a group of vigilantes with similar fashion sense, and led them in a crusade against villainy under the banner of "Freedom Force."

"Gee, I wonder how they chose that name," he grumbled. Robert dreaded the moments that he would hear the all-too familiar battle cry of the Minute Man. He dreaded even more what would usually follow - trash cans, fire hydrants, phone booths, people... and yes, even cars, would more often than not go sailing through the air as part of the inevitable battle. And the battles certainly seemed inevitable. Instead of muggers and thieves, Patriot City now had to deal with Communist soldiers, megalomaniacal supervillains, and rampaging dinosaurs.

And today... ants.

Giant ants. Most of the Patriot City citizens would panic at such a sight, but Robert's mind had moved past the dark shroud of fear and into the fuzzy pink clouds of borderline insanity. Somehow, he knew, this was all Minute Man's fault.

The cars ahead of him stopped suddenly, forcing him to slam on the brakes with another curse. Through the windshield, Robert saw the unmistakable sight of giant ants pouring out of a giant hole in the ground. From above, Robert caught a glimpse of the fiery trail left by El Diablo as he zipped toward the center of the chaos. And to the side, Robert saw a bright blue-coated man emerge from the alleyways. Robert wearily closed his eyes, shook his head, and silently mouthed the words he could hear from inside his car.

"FOR FREEDOM!!!"

When he dared to look out the windshield again, he noted distantly that El Diablo had detonated a massive fireball around a cluster of ants, sending their charred corpses flying. Robert was only dimly aware of the occasional crispy-fried ant that fell on either side of his car. However, on the opposite side of the ant hole, one of the ants untouched by the inferno had picked up a car and was preparing to hurl it at the hot-tempered Latino.

Moving to support his teammate, Minute Man had chosen to fight fire with fire - or rather, automobile with automobile. Pausing as he neared the battle, Minute Man hefted the car in front of Robert's to chuck at the potential assailant.

Robert suddenly bolted to attention. The car in front of him?

Watching in shock, Robert saw Minute Man launch the massive metallic missile. The driver had only barely left the car before it became airborne, Robert noted with dismay. Even worse, his engine had begun to sputter and die.

Robert floored it.

It was an instinctive, unthinking move. The car roared to life again, and charged forward. Right into the unsuspecting Minute Man's backside.

Minute Man pitched forward and landed face down on the pavement. Swerving madly to avoid the ant hole, Robert nevertheless plowed into Minute Man again as the crusader was rising to his feet. By the time Robert had cleared the ant hole and realized what had happened, he had run into Minute Man another three times. Robert hastily braked again, but not before smashing the hero one more time and sending him sailing another twenty feet.

Robert Cavanaugh stared ahead, eyes fixed on the prone form ahead of him.

Then he smiled.

It started slow and unbelieving, then grew into a crazy, wicked grin. Without hesitating another moment, Robert accelerated once more. He laughed in savage glee as he continued to knock Minute Man down one street, and then another. "Today, Minute Man, the car strikes back!" he cried happily.

Finally, the straight path of road came to an end, and Robert made a sharp turn. Minute Man, no longer in Robert's path, skidded to a stop. Robert didn't bother to look back, but began to hum a tune without melody. Oh, the headlights of his car were no doubt broken again, the bumper dented, and the car horn was now blaring in one long, continuous note. But it was worth it.

Repairing car after it's been hurled by a superhero? $1000.

Running down the superhero that threw it? Priceless!!!