Joe Mc Govern was a bad sort. At least that’s what his dear old ma told him.
“Son, if you don’t stop hanging around with that gang of yours, you’ll be coming to a bad end.”
“Mammie. Don’t you fret, I know what I’m doing. If it wasn’t for what I brought home, we’d be out on the streets and starving.”
It was hard growing up in the slum area of Knight City, Devil Heights. It was even worse when Daddy didn’t come home one night. At the age of thirteen, Joe took to being the man of the family; somebody had to provide for Mam, and his two younger sisters, Bridget and Kathleen.
Joe joined the neighbourhood gang, the Shamrock Diaries, and within a few years had moved up to being the lieutenant of the gang. He was young, but he was big, with a size that belied his youthfulness. Life was better, there was food on the table, and who cared that a few people has to get their heads busted up to provide that.
One night the gang rolled a drunk. Nothing unusual about that, the guy was staggering home with a few notes left in his wallet after a night out – the gang did that sort of mugging a couple of nights a week. What was different was that the scientist was going to stand for that. Within a year the group who’d beaten the scientist up, were getting beaten up themselves. About a month after the beatings had started, Joe was the only one left who hadn’t been beaten up.
Joe was walking home after a night on the tiles, when a shadowy figure stepped out towards him. Joe had visited enough of his friends in hospital to know the drill. He ran. And ran. Right until he got to the tenement that he lived in. Straight up the fire escape. The fire escape collapsed.
Joe woke up in hospital. He’d been comatose for a month. The first thing he saw was his mother’s face. The second was the neighbourhood priest.
“Joe, son, you’ve had us so worried. We can’t go on with you running with that gang anymore.” Joe’s ma gestured to the priest. “Father O’Malley from St. Margaret’s has something he wants to talk to you about.”
Father O’Malley had a brother who was a foreman for Knight City Construction. “If you like, when you’re back on your feet, I could have a word with him. Put in a good word for you, like.”
Joe started work with the construction team. Knight City was entering an unprecedented boom of building work. Devil Heights remained untouched by any gentrification, but the steady pay cheque helped.
His gang weren’t impressed that he’d quit them, to say the least, but at least he could take care of himself in a fight. Some of the gang though, really don’t like Joe much anymore. Neely Flynn is one of these – one of the other gang lieutenants he’s a right nasty piece of work.
All seemed to be okay in Joe’s world until the day everything changed. Neely Flynn had come by the site. He wanted Joe to come back to the Diaries. “You’ll be coming back to us, Joe, or you won’t be seeing your family no more. What’s the answer?”
“I won’t be coming back to the gang, Neely. Things have changed. All these drugs, and who knows what else.”
Flynn grinned. “I thought that would be yer answer. To tell the truth, I was hoping that would be yer answer.” He drew his knife and went at Joe.
The two men grappled at each other. It would have been an even enough fight but Flynn had the advantage of his blade. As he cut at Joe, he gradually took the advantage – until he had Joe up against the wall, blade at his throat. “This’ll be the finish for you then, Joseph.”
Then everything went crazy. The air was filled with a strange buzzing. Flynn looked away. Joe took the opportunity to push back. The air itself looked strange – as if in a photo negative. Then everything exploded.
Joe came to pinned in rubble. He couldn’t see. All was dark. He strained and strained against the rubble, but couldn’t budge it.
“I’ve got to get out of here”, he thought,“I can’t stand it.”
A mighty surge of power flexed through him. It was as if he was growing, pushing the girders and concrete away from him. He saw daylight before he blacked out.
He came to in what looked like a small aircraft hanger, lying on the ground. Next to him stood a very small man only a foot tall.
Nick Law, the CEO of Law Industries explained the situation to Joe.
Joe was stuck at forty feet tall, but Nick could help with that. He knew a maverick doctor with an odd bent for science that had worked with the mysterious chemical known as Reducto. With a supply of this, Joe could lead a normal life.
Nick could go one better than that though. He offered Joe a job – a job where he could use his immense size to make a difference to society – a job as an Agent of C.O.M.P.A.S.S.
“But what does C.O.M.P.A.S.S stand for?”
“Truth, justice, the fight for what’s right and so on.”
“No. What do the initials stand for?”
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| by Rebecca Whitaker |
