The Unflappable Flush

This story is about a disabled superhero. Being disabled myself, I think it would be nice if disabled people have their own superhero!

“Crikey, my legs feel like overcooked linguini this morning!” Joe exclaimed as he tried to get out of bed, only to flop unceremoniously onto the floor.

I peered down at the pathetic heap of duvet and despair that was once the mighty Joe “The Flush” Johnson. The fastest dude around, who could move so quickly he was practically invisible, reduced to a moaning mess tangled in his bedsheets. Just yesterday the bloke was blazing down the high street, nothing but a ginger blur, his magnificently coiffed quiff rippling in the wind. But today, his legs had seemingly turned to jelly overnight. Joe grasped at his pin-striped pyjama bottoms, yanking them up to reveal his spindly shanks.

“What’s happened to me, doc?” he implored, stretching his pasty limbs out for inspection. “It’s like me legs are made of lead! No amount of morning stretches will sort this sorry state!”

I gave the scrawny appendages a prod. They flopped limply back onto the carpet. Most peculiar indeed. “Hmm yes, markedly reduced muscle tone and responsiveness,” I mused, adjusting my spectacles. “Almost as if your extraordinary speed has been suddenly sucked out through a straw, leaving just a deflated squishy sack of a man behind.” 

Joe let out a frustrated wail. “But I’ve got to nip down to the shops to grab some bangers for brekkie! At this rate, it’ll take me till teatime to get there and back. I’ll waste away!” He patted his concave stomach for emphasis.

“Chin up old chap, we’ll get to the bottom of this,” I reassured him. Though privately, I suspected foul play was afoot. Joe hadn’t been the same since tangling with that sinister scientist, Professor Zoom. The maniacally cackling madman had sworn to put a stop to Joe’s inconveniently quick interference in his dastardly deeds. Zoom had likely concocted some sort of leg-laming serum and slipped it into Joe’s Vimto. The scoundrel!

Over the next few days, we tried every conceivable cure to reinvigorate Joe’s lower limbs. I attached electrodes to his kneecaps and sent 10,000 volts coursing through his quads. We brought in a spiritual guru to realign his chakras. We even stretched him limb by limb on a medieval rack, but no dice.

Our efforts were for naught. Joe’s legs remained lifeless as a limp noodle, no matter what outlandish remedy we attempted. And I could see the inaction was taking its toll on the once proud superhero. Gone was the confident swagger, replaced with a defeated slouch. The spark was fading from his eyes as his unused muscles withered away.

Things were looking dire for our debilitated defender of justice. And if I’m being honest, Joe wasn’t taking his enforced semi-retirement well. I’d often find him sprawled on the sofa in his greying Y-fronts, scowling at the racing results and guzzling PG Tips, growling about how he could’ve lapped those nags twice over. His prized quiff, once so meticulously sculpted, now flopped limply over his forehead like a discarded fish stick. The man was losing his moxie along with his mobility.

It was time for an intervention. I burst into his flat one morning brandishing a wheelchair and riding crop. “Right Joe, enough moping!” I announced. “Your legs may have failed you, but your upper body strength is still tip top! We’re going to train you up on wheels!”

Joe eyed the chair sceptically. “What’s this then, you want me to join the ruddy Paralympics? I ain’t rolling round like some geriatric.”

I cracked the riding crop against my palm. “Nonsense, this is just the first step on the road to recovery! Now get your sorry arse into this wheelchair so we can commence Operation Rolling Thunder!”

After the initial grumbling, Joe warmed up to the idea. We started with rolling races across his flat, which he invariably won thanks to his powerful arm strokes. Within a week he was zipping around the whole block, sending bins scattering in his wake. And pretty soon he was outpacing cyclists and paperboys, the wind rippling through the silky ginger tresses under his helmet.

Joe even souped up his new wheels with hot rod flames and an oversized motor. He’d come careening around corners on one wheel, passenger basket loaded with lager. “The Flush is back, baby!” he’d holler, spraying gravel.

Of course, trouble was brewing. Joe’s renewed independence had not gone unnoticed.

Professor Zoom watched the security footage in disbelief. That blasted Flush was mobile again! And making a right menace of himself with that ridiculous wheelchair. The nerve of him, parading around town as if nothing had changed. Zoom gnashed his teeth. He would not stand for this...this fraud masquerading as a hero!

No, it was time to finish off The Flush for good. With one final confrontation that would push the pathetic has-been over the brink, once and for all!

Zoom flung his cape back diabolically, as lightning crashed outside his spooky castle lair. “Get the henchmen ready and charge the laser cannon! Tonight, we make mincemeat pie out of The Flush!”

His maniacal laughter echoed ominously through the stone halls...

That evening, Joe rolled down the dimly lit back alleys of London, whistling without a care. He was meeting his favorite lady Mary Jane at the pub for a pint, then hopefully a snog in the alley after. He picked up speed as he imagined her waiting there in that saucy polka dot dress

But as Joe rounded a corner, disaster struck! A dark shape shot out and clotheslined him right out of his wheelchair. “Oh Gawd!” Joe cried as he lay sprawled across the grimy pavement. He peered up to find a hulking masked man looming over him, cracking his concrete block fists. More henchmen emerged from the shadows, brandishing wicked-looking weapons.

“Blimey, is that you Bruiser?” Joe exclaimed, recognizing the brute’s distinctive forehead scar shaped like a Yorkshire pudding. “I thought you’d given up the henchmen biz after I helped you get that dishwasher job!”

Bruiser grimaced. “Sorry Joe, nuffin personal, but Professor Zoom quadrupled me wages. I got three wee ones to feed now, they eat like lil’ Dustbins!”

Joe knew Bruiser was a good bloke at heart, just trying to support his family. But he couldn’t allow this brigandry to stand! He sprung up and grabbed Bruiser in a headlock, giving him a playful noogie. “C’mon mate, you don’t wanna do this! Let me help you find some honest work.”

The other henchmen murmured uncertainly, lowering their weapons. But before Joe could convince them to walk the straight and narrow, a sinister laugh pierced the air.

“Enough of this nonsense!” A figure emerged from the shadows, green cape fluttering behind him. “You can’t turn my henchmen against me with your nauseating do-gooder drivel!” Professor Zoom sneered, aiming some sort of futuristic gun at Joe. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Flush. Any last words before I blast you into oblivion?”

Joe gulped, eyeing the ominous weapon. He had to think fast! “Um...would you accept a strongly worded letter to the editor instead?” he tried meekly.

Zoom roared with evil laughter. “You always were a comedian! But not even you can joke your way out of this!” His finger tightened on the trigger.

Just then, a feminine battle cry rang out as Mary Jane came flying in swinging her handbag. “Get yer greasy mitts off my fella, you cockwomble!” She clobbered Zoom over the head, knocking his death ray askew.

Joe whooped triumphantly. “Attagirl Mary Jane! Now let’s get outta here before Professor Spoilsport recovers!” They clasped hands and sped off down the alley just as Zoom’s blast disintegrated a row of dustbins, sending rubbish flying everywhere.

“Curses!” Zoom exclaimed, fishing a wet teabag out of his collar. “Don’t just stand there you numpties, after them!”

The henchmen scrambled to obey, clambering into their car to pursue the fleeing couple. But Joe’s turbo-charged wheelchair proved too quick, and he and Mary Jane managed to lose their bumbling pursuers.

Safely back at Joe’s flat, they collapsed onto the sofa, breathless. “Cor blimey, that was a close one!” Joe panted. “If it weren’t for your cracking timing with that handbag, I’d be somewhat inconvenienced!”

Mary Jane smiled demurely. “A heroine’s work is never done. Besides, I couldn’t let that slippery fellow bump off my number one fella!” She leaned in and planted a lingering kiss on his cheek, leaving a perfect lipstick imprint. Joe flushed as red as a postbox.

“It’s not over yet though,” Mary Jane continued seriously. “Zoom is clearly obsessed with destroying you. We need to take the fight to him for good.”

Joe gulped. “You mean...infiltrate his secret lair? Have you gone barmy, woman? That place is crawling with henchmen and who knows what sort of sadistic security gizmos!”

Mary Jane folded her arms. “Well we can’t just wait around for him to attack us again! Zoom needs to be stopped once and for all, and you’re the only one fast enough to sneak in there undetected.”

Joe raked his hands through his hair nervously. She had a point. He was The Flush, defender of justice! Sure he lacked the use of his legs now, but he still had a hero’s heart. With Mary Jane’s help, he had to try to end Zoom’s reign of demented terror!

Joe tightly gripped his wheelchair wheels. “You’re absolutely right, darling. We end this tomorrow!”

Mary Jane grinned. “That’a my brave Joe! Now, I believe we have some unfinished business from earlier...” She slid onto Joe’s lap, and coherent plans for storming evil lairs were quickly forgotten in a far more pleasurable fog.

The next evening, under the cover of darkness, Joe rolled silently up to Zoom’s ominous stronghold. He had dropped Mary Jane safely at home, not wanting her anywhere near this dangerous mission. “I’ll be fine sweetheart, have a little faith!” he had reassured her. In truth, he was bricking it inside. What if those goons still had the anti-speed serum? He couldn’t handle being any slower. Nevertheless, he steeled his nerves and stealthily approached the castle portcullis.

Peering through the rusty bars, he spotted no guards. Ha, Zoom’s arrogance would be his downfall! Joe squeezed through the narrow gate and quickly rolled across the courtyard, praying his squeaky wheels wouldn’t give him away. He held his breath as he approached the heavy oak doors, heart pounding. It was time to end this, once and for all!

Joe took a deep breath and gave the ominous oak doors a push. They swung open with an ear-splitting creaaak. Joe winced, waiting for an alarm to sound. But only silence followed.

Cautiously, he rolled inside. The entry hall was empty, flickering torches casting ominous shadows up the stone walls. Joe shuddered. This place gave him the proper heebie-jeebies. He half expected a vampire bat to come flapping out of the darkness.

As he crept forward, Joe stayed alert for any security gizmos Zoom might have rigged. Lasers, trapdoors, rabid guard dogs...that nutter seemed capable of anything. But the hall remained still, not a henchman in sight. Strange...Joe didn’t like it one bit.

He was just contemplating how to locate Zoom in this warren of twisty corridors when a thunderous voice boomed out.

“Welcome, Flush!” Joe whirled his chair around to see Zoom high above on a balcony, leering down at him. “You’ve saved me the trouble of hunting you down. Now I can destroy you in the comfort of my own home!”

With a whoosh of his cape, Zoom glided down on some sort of jetpack contraption to hover before Joe. “Impressive lair, eh?” he gloated, doing a slow spin to show off the cavernous space. “I spared no expense on the evil decor. Imported the gargoyles straight from Transylvania!”

Joe crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Got a downstairs loo in this joint?”

Zoom’s eye twitched. “Joke all you want, but you won’t be laughing long!” He snapped his fingers, and Joe heard the pounding of approaching feet. A dozen burly henchmen rushed in to surround him, wielding all manner of bizarre contraptions - laser cattle prods, beanbag guns, some sort of hose that shot lava?!

Joe tensed, fingers tightening around his wheels, ready to bolt. He might escape if he took them by surprise...

But Zoom seemed to read his thoughts. “Ah ah ah, I wouldn’t try anything rash.” He held up a remote control and pressed a big red button.

Instantly, Joe’s wheelchair jerked and shuddered violently beneath him. The motor was going haywire, spinning the wheels erratically in every direction like a mechanical bull! Joe hung on for dear life as he was bucked about the hall.

Zoom howled with laughter. “Fool! Did you think I wouldn’t take precautions against your speed? I’ve upgraded your wheelchair with my patented Chaos Drive 3000! With the press of a button, I can remotely send you careening uncontrollably in any direction I choose!”

To demonstrate, Zoom toggled the joystick, making Joe’s chair zigzag drunkenly until he bounced off a pillar with a teeth-rattling smack.

Stars swam in Joe’s vision as Zoom strode over, sneering down at his dazed nemesis. “Not looking so clever now, are you Flush? This is the end of the road for you.” His finger hovered over a big yellow button. “Say farewell!”

Desperately, Joe swung his arm, smacking the remote out of Zoom’s hand. It skittered across the floor, too far to reach.

Zoom’s nostrils flared in rage. “You impudent little...no matter! I don’t need fancy remotes to squash a pathetic insect like yourself!”

He lunged, grabbing Joe by the shirt, and easily hoisted both man and wheelchair overhead. Joe gulped as he dangled helplessly like a kitten. This was very not good.

Zoom strode over to the gaping fireplace, whose roaring flames seemed to beckon hungrily. He held Joe out over the pit. “Let’s see how fast you burn!”

Sweat dripped down Joe’s brow from the searing heat. This was it...after everything, he was going to end up as bangers and mash. Not exactly how he envisioned his heroic demise.

But as Zoom drew back his arm to toss Joe into the inferno, a feminine battle cry rang out for the second time that week. Zoom spun, startled, just as Mary Jane came flying in on a zipline, swinging her flaming handbag around like a lasso.

“Yeeehaww!” With flawless aim, she whacked Zoom right between the eyes, making him howl in pain and rage.

“That’s for trying to flambé my man, you blighter!” Mary Jane crowed as she swooped down and snatched Joe from Zoom’s grasp.

Dazed but grateful, Joe gave her a smooch as they swung to safety. “My hero!” he declared with a wink.

Zoom clutched his singed face, bellowing at his hapless henchmen. “Don’t just stand there you numpties, blast them!”

Lasers and projectiles filled the air as Mary Jane hit the gas, zooming them up the zipline and through a skylight to freedom. Joe cheered, pumping his fist. Good had triumphed once more! 

Though he had a funny feeling this wouldn’t be the last they saw of that rotter, Professor Zoom...