Free Superhero by Victor Methos

the Mercedes slowed to stop behind the cars, Reese looked inside. It was an older couple, the man in a suit and the woman in a gown with a thin fur over her shoulders. Reese smiled and pulled the 9 mm out of his waistband.
    He grabbed the door handle and pulled. The door opened. Most people didn’t think to lock their doors as they drove.
    “What is—”
    Before the woman could finish Reese had backhanded her across the mouth, causing her head to hit the headrest. He reached in and unbuckled her, pulling her out of the car by her hair as she screamed. The man was frozen stiff, staring at Reese with his mouth open.
    “Hi,” Reese said, getting in and shutting the passenger door. “Please drive. Or I’ll kill you and drive myself.”
    The man began to drive, checking on his wife through the rearview to make sure she had made it to the side of the road.
    “Where are we going?”
    “Just drive.”
    They drove for a few minutes, the gun on Reese’s lap with the barrel pointed at the man’s guts. Reese liked this car. It was a smooth ride. Even the bumps and gravel in the road from the city’s constant construction were taken with a glide.
    “I like the car,” he said.
    “Listen, I have a lot of money. Why don’t you let me go and take it? I think there’s over a thousand dollars in my wallet.”
    “A G, huh? Now why would I take a G when this car is worth fifty times that?”
    “You want my car?”
    “Turn left.”
    The man turned, glancing over once to the gun. Reese could see droplets of sweat forming on the man’s forehead. He was right to fear him.
    “What’s your name?” the man said.
    Reese slammed his fist into the man’s ribs, knocking the wind out of him. The car jerked to the left and ran up on the curb, nearly hitting a bench with two people on it. Reese grabbed the wheel and twisted it back to the right. He held it a few moments as the man caught his breath.
    “Just fucking drive.”
    They drove another five minutes before coming to an empty field. It was filled with what looked like green and gold wheat but were just weeds overtaking an abandoned parking lot. Garbage was thrown around and the nearest business was a Wal-Mart almost a full block away.
    “This is your stop,” Reese said. “Thanks for the car.”
    The man got out of the car without protest. Reese slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the lot. He checked his rearview and saw the man pulling out a cell phone from his pocket and dialing. Wrong move.
    Reese hit the brakes and stepped out of the car. He took out his 9 mm and raised it. The man saw and bolted in the opposite direction. A shot rang out through the night and dirt kicked up near the man’s feet. Another shot and more dirt. The man was running up the street to the Wal-Mart. Reese took his time, aiming for the man’s hamstring, and fired. A mist of blood spit out of his leg. The man yelped in pain as he collapsed onto the pavement.
    Reese laughed, got into the Mercedes, and drove off.
     
     
    The three men waited on a corner as Reese pulled to a stop in front of them. They hopped into the car without a word and didn’t mention anything about its luxury. Reese sighed. The Myrs were crazy, and unfortunately, uncivilized. They didn’t know how to enjoy the nice things in life when they presented themselves.
    As they drove, no one talked. But the car was filled with the sounds of automatic rifles being checked and re-checked. Ski masks were handed out and latex gloves were slapped on. Jimmy was still in the custody of the LAPD. They had him in a holding cell and he was supposed to be arraigned tomorrow and then sent to the county jail to await the appointment of a lawyer and a scheduling conference on his case.
    The police precinct looked old and boring. Reese thought it looked like an office building and he was glad he hadn’t become a cop. His dad was cop, before he blew his brains out over the dinner table one night.
    They parked in front and Reese and the