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Whatever else he had wanted to do today, straddling on a flagpole hundreds of feet above certain death was not high on Fox’s list. Rusty wasn’t taking it particularly well, either, but at least he didn’t know how screwed they were.

Fox reached into his shorts pocket. Maybe he could call the fire department– it struck him as plausible that they had cranes that reached even fifty stories up, to handle fires that might start this high. If he could last that long, of course.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at his pocket– he felt grimly certain that he would throw up if he looked down. In the moment that he drew out his cell phone, Rusty cried a little bit harder and maybe the wind was a bit harder, a bit colder, and a bit wilder. Whatever the causes were, the effect was that he overbalanced and grabbed the pole with his right hand to counterbalance. The phone slipped out of his hands and he realized that his knees were also clenched against the pole. They turned a disturbing shade of lavender instead of a healthy violet.

He looked up at the sky, mocking him with the last rays of a dying sun on a clear day. He counted out the 4.89 seconds he estimated it would take for a cellphone to plummet 48 stories, if each story averaged eight feet. His body’s air resistance might have differed from the cell phone’s, but he assumed that it– and the resulting terminal velocity– would be pretty close. He didn’t hear the phone splatter against the pavement, and he certainly wasn’t looking, but maybe some random passerby would see what happened and assume that someone was trapped on the flagpole.

He felt more optimistic that someone in the building across might see him and call for help. This was also, he realized, something of a fantasy. The odds that someone would look out and actually get help to arrive in time were quickly approaching zero. Someone without a background in calculus would say that they had already reached zero, so at least he had that going for him.

Out of the blue there was a crash of thunder, one that rang in his ears. He had to look up to believe it; the sky had been wonderfully clear only a minute or two before. Rusty started crying again, and he couldn’t even bring himself to try to cheer him up. He had no idea how much longer his knees could hold on after the rain slicked the pole. Five minutes didn’t seem too much to hope for… after counting to sixty, even two more minutes seemed undoable.

He cracked and looked down. He saw an awful blur of cars and headlights, people milling about on the sidewalk, surely unaware that a man-sized body was about to fall on top of them. There was definitely no one coming. He wasn’t sure if this was the first time today he knew he was going to die here, but he was sure that it was the first time today he wept.

There was a slight tapping on his shoulder. His mind, working far faster than he wanted it to now, told him that it was probably hail. What else could touch his shoulders when his back was against a skyscraper’s wall? His head, caught in a moment of wholly unprobable hope, turned upwards. He caught a glimpse of a masked face, upside down, only inches away from his own. The shock of seeing someone– so close– nearly caused him to tip over. This–and Rusty, and the rain, and the lost phone– was too much.

“Sup, I’m Lash. I’m climbing down from the antenna on a whip but I’m six feet or so short of the flagpole. Move five feet forward and I can jump on the pole. ”

“Then what?” Fox’s voice was angry. He obviously wasn’t doing well.

“Let’s see if I make it. If I play myself jumping, then I don’t have to worry about an exit strategy.”

After a few seconds of silence, Catastrophe felt a loud thud behind him.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, bitches. Aiight, I have another whip. I’ll tie the two together, you pass me the kid, and we climb to the roof.”

“How do I know you’re not one of them? You might push me off as soon as I do.”

“Brother, I just leapt six feet on to a flagpole to save your sorry self. Well, the kid, mostly. I deserve the benefit of the doubt.

Rusty spoke up. “Uncle Cat, I wanna go with him.”

“Fair enough. You’re behind me and the pole’s too slippery to turn around. How do I pass him to you?”

“Hold him in your lap. I’ll come up right behind you. I will reach over your arms and lift the kid over you. Then we’ll climb up the ropes and take the elevators down.”

“There’s no way.” His quiet resignation had at least made it a bit easier to reach for the kid. Rusty was soaked by the rain, so every bit of help was a godsend. Fox’s right ear flicked a bit in the wind and nearly caught Lash’s arm as it was lifting Rusty clear. The kid clearly got a lot more cheerful when he was resting in Lash’s arms. Still scared, but hopeful.

“Hey champ. What’s your name?”

“I’m Rusty!”

Rusty stole a glance at the ground. Lash tried calming him down by asking a few questions about his favorite sports team. Keeping him talking would reduce the risk of shock.

“And you, purple buddy. You got a name?”

“James Fox, Dr. James Fox.” “My friends call me Catastrophe,” he added.

“Got a favorite sports team?”

“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to calm me down. I know I’m not making it down alive… there’s no way I could climb 25 feet up a robe, even if it had knots. That, and I wouldn’t actually be facing the wall when I was climbing.”

From what Lash could see, Catastrophe was a bit scrawny and his arms were shaking far too much to even think about climbing in the rain.

“Got a favorite superhero?” He quickly added “I’m not playing at making you feel better. If you know anyone who can fly, calling him would probably be the… easiest way to get you down.”

“You’re the one in the mask. Why don’t you call someone?”

“Don’t be a hater. I’m a Junior Associate, which means I’m on assignment to this podunk nowheresville. I don’t know anyone within a thousand miles of here, and even if I did, I doubt I could keep a flyer’s attention long enough for him to spit on me.”

Catastrophe didn’t say anything. He just stared downwards.

“But… if you’d be willing to keep your eyes and lips closed for five minutes, and I mean damn well closed, I might be able to get you to the ground.”

“But my other options are so very attractive.”

God, Lash thought. What was it about superheroics that brought out bitchy sarcasm? Catastrophe had gone from cataconic to professional curmudgeon in less than five minutes just by being in his presence.

“Lift up your arms.”

Catastrophe did so and felt two enormous arms grip like a vise across his chest.  He felt wind rushing and rain spraying against his body. His stomach felt like it dropped a foot.  This feeling of movement lasted some time.

Suddenly, the sensation of movement stopped. “Three minutes,” Lash said. Lash let go and Catastrophe fell to the dank ground. He guessed it was an alley.

He could hear Rusty’s high-pitched voice talking excitedly with Lash around ten feet away.

After his time was up, Fox opened his eyes. Rusty was dancing and waving a card around. He proudly showed it to Fox.  The handwriting was blotchy and a bit rushed.

“To my most devoted (and only) fan:

Stay brave, eat well, and work in a nuclear power plant. Then you, too, might make the Social Justice League.

Lash

P .S. Whatever your fool uncle is thinking, tell him to stay as far away from us as possible.

“He gave you a pwesent too.”

Rusty pointed at Fox’s pocket. Fox rifled through and found a cell-phone that he had never seen before. He opened the phone and a business card fell out.

Lash McMaster

Social Justice League Junior Associate

New York, NY St. Louis, IL

When a problem comes along…

It also had his phone number (”reachable from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m.”), but Fox assumed that the number would only reach the phone he had just been given. Lash obviously didn’t carry two phones in case he ever needed to give one away. Catastrophe reconsidered that assumption. Maybe superheroes did– he had absolutely no idea. It wouldn’t be convenient to have more than one set, but then, it didn’t seem particularly convenient to wear tights or a mask, either.

He called Oliver.

“Good God, where have you been? Where’s Rusty? I got home an hour ago and your phone didn’t work.”

It was going to be a pleasant ride with Oliver, he could tell.

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