Mr. Thompson (part 3)

            Kyle, slightly embarrassed, took his dad’s arm and led him back to his chair and took a seat on the chair next to him. He looked at the two men and paused. “First off, why do you keep calling him ‘Count’?”

            Captain Shield looked at the boy and laughed. “I see, so your father never told you? It was his name when he was in The League. Kind of like Count Dracula since he could do all sorts of things with blood, usually like rapid healing which came in handy especially with all the stuff he put his otherwise normal body through. So, instead of bullets bouncing off of him, like they do to me, he would quickly heal those same gunshot wounds and never miss a step.” Captain Shield paused as he saw the boy look wide-eyed at Mr. Thompson. “Of course, there were even times when he would heal other members of The League, even myself from time to time. If you like, you may even be able to inherit his name as long as your father apro –”

            “Not going to happen,” said Mr. Thompson with a laugh. “Kyle has never been much of a healer.” He told Captain Shield about how Kyle never perfected the rapid healing technique he tried to teach him, and how he was even worse at using it on others. “Hell, he left bigger scars than the tiny cuts I had him try to heal,” he said as he pointed to several long markings on his arm. The room almost glowed red from the embarrassment shining from Kyle’s face as a small puddle of sweat and tears mixed into the carpet flooring.

            “Oh, come now Count. He can’t be that bad.” Captain Shield turned to Kyle. “I’ll bet you’ve had moments you’re proud of, right? Which is actually a lot better than some of the other kids we take in.”

            Kyle smiled a little at Captain Shield’s words and nodded his head slightly. Captain Shield knew now was the time to ensure Kyle would join. “And if you make it past the training to become a full member of The League, you’ll be in a perfect position to do the one thing that I know will make your father proud.” Captain Shield saw Kyle’s face light up and Mr. Thompson’s head drop, his face buried in his hands.

            Mr. Thompson guessed that Captain Shield would bring that up to lure Kyle in – and here it was: he told Kyle that he could begin his own investigation into who killed his mother; he told him they already had possible suspects but little manpower to keep cold cases going; he told him how Nancy, his mother, was killed shortly after his father had officially retired and that it was probably some supervillain with a score to settle with The Count. “Though I do recommend you take a more level-headed approach than your father did. No need to go around killing every supervillain you can get your hands on or you could find yoursel–”

            The smash of a breaking bottle and a shower of glass and whiskey stopped Captain Shield midsentence. It wasn’t the bottle breaking on his face, but rather the action of it – that someone would actually throw a bottle at him – which caught him by surprise. He and Kyle both looked with shock at Mr. Thompson, who shouted, “Don’t you say one more word about her! This is my revenge, not his.”

            Captain Shield was not a man to be disrespected, even when he was uninvited in another man’s house. He’d done too much to let even the slightest insult go unnoticed, especially when all he was trying to do was extend an offering. He stood from the couch and the floor under him sagged slightly under his power.

            Mr. Thompson knew full well the extent of Captain Shield’s abilities. He’d witnessed them first hand more times than he could count and been on the receiving end more times than he cared to remember. Even so, there was no way he’d let this man take his son. He fingered at the tiny flask in his pocket, hoping that if it came to it, his abilities would give Kyle enough time to come to his senses and run.