One Dark Night

Todd looked at the text message on the cell phone, confirming that he had the right address. All these warehouses look the same, he thought as he pocketed the phone and pulled off his backpack, walking around to the back of the building. He pulled out another phone, this one with a cable attached, though the cable had been cut, exposing bare wires. He wired the adapter into the alarm system, rerouting its signal—if he just cut the power line, the security company would know something was wrong and send the cops. With the alarm disabled, he pulled some small wire tools from his back pocket and began picking the lock on the door.

Todd was a low-level crook and this wasn't his first breaking and entering, but it was the first time he did it for someone else, a client. It felt weird, like he was working at an office job or something. Come to think of it, the whole thing felt weird.

He was at the gym last week and when he opened his locker to grab his stuff before going home, there was a brown paper bag with ten grand in cash and a prepaid cell phone. The phone had an unread text message waiting for him. It said that the money was a "retainer" payment and if Todd took it, he'd need to be willing to take a job. It didn't feel right, but with the cops sniffing around his pawn shop that he used as a front, he needed the cash. When he got a text a few days later with an address and instructions to "get inside and wait for text," it made about as much sense as anything else had so far.

With the lock picked, Todd walked inside. It was nearly too dark to see inside, but there were a few skylights scattered across the ceiling that let in moonlight, which allowed Todd to walk across the warehouse without bumping into anything. He nearly made it to an adjacent office on the far side of the warehouse when he heard someone speak.

"Decent work disabling the alarm," a slightly nasal baritone voice said. "Too bad 'decent' isn't good enough with me on the job."

"What the crap?" Todd said, turning to face the voice. All he saw was a blur of shiny fabric as the speaker leaped from off a large wooden crate below a skylight and into the darkness. Just then, the prepaid phone in his pocket vibrated, alerting him of a new text message. Instinctively, Todd pull out the phone and read the text.

Having fun?

"You set this up?" Todd shouted into the darkness. "That's entrapment!"

"Actually," the unseen voice said, "only government officials can entrap someone. Also, I didn't set up anything."

The phone vibrated in Todd's hand. He looked down.

He's right

"What's going on?!" Todd screamed, nearly at a panic. Weird he could handle, but everything was getting downright insane.

Suddenly, a man jumped into view. He wore a yellow and gold spandex body suit that covered everything but his eyes, ears, mouth, and chin. A cape hung from his back and he wore glasses over his mask. The man was thin but athletic looking, like a gymnast or diver. He stood in front of Todd in what looked like karate pose: slightly crouched with hands in "chopping" form held up in front of his face.

"Oh, great," Todd said sarcastically, "a friggin' superhero."

"Actually," the other man said, "I have no super powers, though I am a vigilante, operating outside the law."

"Look," Todd said wearily, "I don't want any trouble. I just needed the cash and they said to come here."

"Being destitute is no excuse for breaking the law," the spandex-clad man said condescendingly.

"Who are you supposed to be anyway?" Todd asked. "The Incredible Know-it-all?"

"I'm sure it's hard to see in this lighting," the masked hero said, "but I have a stylized capital letter P on my costume, for I am the Pedant!"

"What, like a pedophile?" Todd asked, backing away slightly.

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" the Pedant asked rhetorically. "A pedant is someone who is focused on details and righting wrongs."

"Or to put it another way," a different, though still nasally voice called out of the darkness, "he's anal retentive!"

"It can't be!" the Pedant said, turning around as he tried to find the new speaker.

"Now what?" Todd asked, his worry replaced with annoyed confusion.

"It sounds like my arch-rival," the Pedant said, continuing his frantic search in the darkness, "but that’s impossible! He's currently under house arrest with a tracking ankle monitor; if he left, it would incur the wrath of county judge Davis!"

"And what if I never left home?" the voice called out in a near laugh.

"But that would mean—" the Pedant started.

"Indeed!" the voice said as all of the lights in the warehouse turned on. Both Todd and the Pedant had to squint under the bright lights. Todd, shielding his eyes, looked around. The front of the crate that the Pedant had leapt off of earlier opened downward, drawbridge-style, revealing a large television screen inside. It turned on, revealing what looked like a man in front of a web camera wearing clown makeup.

"The Annoyer!" the Pedant shouted at the screen.

"The very same!" the man on the screen cackled. "I bet you weren't expecting such an elaborate ruse, now were you, Pee Dance?"

"You know that's not my name, Greg!" the Pedant shouted at the screen.

"You've got to be kidding me," Todd said to himself. "Was this job just to tick him off?" he asked the Annoyer, pointing at the Pedant.

"And you've performed admirably!" Greg exclaimed. "You'll find another ten thousand dollars in the top drawer of the desk in the office just behind you."

"I'm sure gramps would be so proud of how you're spending your inheritance," the Pedant sarcastically said as Todd walked towards the office.

"I'm not the one going around beating up people and saying that I'm making the world a better place," the Annoyer said, rolling his eyes. "And at least I picked a name that makes sense, Alan."

"I've explained my title to you," the Pedant said, annoyed (appropriately enough). "You know it makes sense."

"If it makes sense," Greg said, "then why do you need to constantly explain it to people?"

"That's just because people are undereducated," Alan replied.

As the two grown men wearing either a costume and makeup continued to bicker, Todd walked out of the warehouse, another stack of hundreds in his backpack. Once outside, he took the prepaid phone he had been contacted on—apparently by a guy named Greg who just wanted to annoy his brother or cousin or whatever—and chucked it as far as he could down the street. When he heard it crash a block or so away, he started walking back to his car in the opposite direction.

Lesson learned, Todd thought. There’s no such thing as "easy money."