By Chaz Hamilton
Chaz Hamilton sat on a park bench, eating his
lunch while enjoying the shade beneath a lush, well-groomed oak. A soft breeze brushed away some of the muggy, summer heat while it carried the rich scent of fresh coffee over from a nearby street vendor. Squirrels darted back and forth, searching for tidbits of food, not at all concerned by the people exercising on the well-maintained track. All in all, it wasn’t a bad place to enjoy a moment of peaceful bliss. He took a bite of his Rueben and leaned back, letting the stress of his Editor-In-Chief’s so-called morning pep-talk evaporate as he chewed. He reached for his water bottle, fumbled with its wet, slippery exterior, and knocked it to the ground. Bending down and fishing for his drink beneath the seat of the bench, he muttered to himself. “Gravity, sometimes I really hate you.”
“Mind if I join you?” A pair of legs in a pink track suit inquired.
Chaz looked up. An Amazonian woman stood before him, with budging muscles stretching every inch of fabric. Blond hair pulled back behind her head hung like a wet dog’s tail. Nothing about her said jogger, as so many others running on the paths about the park were doing. Her build distinctly announced, “I will squash you like a bug if you displease me!”
“Um, sure…” Chaz slid over and gave her plenty of room to sit.
“Thank you,” she said. She sat down and wiped sweat away from her dripping headband, flicking the moisture onto the nearby tree. “It’s far too hot out here today, don’t you think?”
He might have imagined it, but he could swear the tree rocked from the impact.
“I suppose so,” Chaz replied. He wiped away the dirt from the exterior of his found water bottle. “It seems to happen every summer.”
“Ah,” she said. “I see you’re a comedian in real life, not just in your writing.”
The faint background vibe he chalked up his reporter’s nose kicked up a few notches. “You know who I am? I’m always happy to meet a fan.”
“Who said I was a fan?” She turned her brutish gaze down onto him. Sitting on the bench, she still had almost a foot over him. “Now, sit quietly and listen. Do you understand?”
Chaz nodded, keeping his nerves in check. Video clips of steel bars being bent into pretzels ran through his mind.
“This upcoming Stellar Battle? You’ve heard of it?” She bent over and fiddled with a shoelace. Impatiently, she softly barked at him. “Yes or no. You’ve heard of it.”
Chaz gulped back the growing lump in his throat. “Yes. I’ve heard of it.”
“So far, BADGE has been able to throw three of these League Wars without incident.” She brushed off her shoe and stood up. Placing her hands together over her head, she stretched from her waist, side to side. “This one shall not pass so… uneventfully.”
“What do you mean?” Chaz asked. He took a sip from his bottle and surveyed his surroundings, searching for others watching his impromptu meeting. “What is going to happen?”
“I can’t say any more than this. It must take quite a bit of effort to build a space arena. Materials, design plans, construction companies.” She bent forward and touched the ground as she jack-knifed like a gymnast. “All leading to so many heroes in one place, high above the earth. That would make quite a target, don’t you think?”
With that said, she snapped upright and thundered away like a T-Rex chasing after its prey.
“Wait, you have to be able to tell me more. Who…?” Chaz let his questions trail off, holding himself back from running after his strange informant. He took out his phone and casually as he could and turned on its camera, snapping pictures of the park before training the lens on her running form moving away. He continued taking pictures of a squirrel with an acorn a few feet away.
“Someone has plans against the heroes at the Stellar Battle.” Chaz looked at the photo of his unusual visitor and mused as he finished his sandwich. “Not good. Not good at all. But it does have the earmarks of a great story.”