All-Star: No Place Like Home
It doesn't get any better than this, Nate Carter thought as he walked out of the stuffy and miserably overcrowded airport and out into soothing gaze of the sun. Cheerily, he tilted the cap shielding his eyes from the big ball of fire and took a look. Hudson City in the summertime. It's almost unrecognisable. One whiff of the air quickly reminded Nate that he was still in his hometown, the disorienting stench of day-old urine, carbon monoxide and rotting garbage assaulting his nose and forcing its way into his mouth like the cold, probing finger of a particularly uncaring doctor. Nate sighed in response, a wry smile spreading across his features. I love this town.
You know there's a funny saying that gets spread around Hudson by bums and tramps from Freetown to Elmview and back again; 'You can run and you can hide, but you can't escape Hudson... Pulling his cap back down, Nate lazily stretched out a hand and began thumbing for a cab. ...Because no matter where you go, Hudson always drags you back home.' Something like that, anyway. I can never remember. Speeding past, a car ran roughshod through a puddle, sending muddied water onto Nate's new pair of jeans.
"Hey. Hey. Hey!" Nate cried out, raising a fist in impotent rage. "Watch it, jackass!"
"Suck a fat one, Fresh Prince!" The driver called back, throwing an obscene gesture back at the stunned Nate.
City of opportunities, I tell you. Just a shame none of them are the good kind. With another sigh of defeatism, Nate shook his leg in a futile gesture to alleviate his burning desire for a hot shower and continued hailing a cab. However, by the time the fourth cabbie had sped past him head-banging to some loud discordant music, he figured that walking was the best way to go. With a slight readjustment to the position of his cap and a jaunty tune making its way to his lips, Nate strolled down the bumpy streets of Hudson.
You grow up in Hudson, you get used to certain things. Nate thought as he casually ambled through the city, paying no mind to the smell that was threatening to permanently settle in his nose. The rancid garbage baking in the sunlight, the young upstart gangbangers glaring at your shoes from across the street, the sound of people yelling at each other in every language under the sun... As he whistled to himself, Nate stopped briefly, a slight feeling of foreboding washing over him. Before he could so much as survey his surroundings, two little kids ran past him, snatching his wallet and his phone as they made a frantic dash for some sort of hiding spot.
"Really?!" Nate groaned, giving chase. "Really?! Picking a quarterback's pocket? That's just- Really?!"
The kids, clearly not ones to give up hope, merely picked up the pace, darting through the streets and eliciting looks of mild surprise from bystanders as Nate zoned in on them. You never really get used to that, though. Only now, I'm on the receiving end. The kids, dismayed to find that the bespectacled man in a dorky trucker's cap was still following them, made an abrupt turn into an alley, leaping over a disgruntled tramp and scaling the fence which would have otherwise stopped them in their thieving tracks. I love this town.
Me? I run with the Protectors. These are guys that punch out alien warlords every other Tuesday and still make it home in time for dinner. Nate continued his hot pursuit, barreling over the startled tramp with a muttered sorry as he tensed his legs in preparation for his next maneuver. I tell 'em my stuff got stolen by a couple of kids wearing those little light-up sneakers, I don't live it down.
"Brace up, Nate. Clear the obstacle..." He murmured to himself, leaping upwards and pulling himself over the fence all at once. "Stick the landing." Roaring out with the effort of pushing himself into a mid-air jump, Nate landed with the poise of a trained acrobat, startling the two thieving urchins and momentarily halting their getaway.
"Yeah, that's right. That's what I can do. Don't need any fancy light-up sneakers to do it, neither. Now fork over my stuff." The two kids looked at each other, briefly considering handing over their ill-gotten gains, before turning tail and fleeing once more. Why do kids run so fast? You'd think we would've stuffed them full of enough fast food and sugar by now... With a loud groan, Nate picked up the pace, turning the corner just in time to run right into something hard, sudden and very, very immovable.
"Look, I've had just about e-" He began, stopping as he peered up at the hulking mountain of Samoan mass standing over him, the two young thieves struggling to extricate their arms from his hands. "I take it you're not their father?"
The Samoan gave a chuckle. A hollow, obligatory chuckle. "Forgive my associates, here. They have a tendency to forget their places. Don't you, boys?" The boys said nothing in response, seemingly resigned to their fate. "They seem to forget that they work for me. They seem to forget that they were supposed to bring those wallets to me, rather than go AWOL with them. Children forget a whole lot, don't they?"
"Hey, buddy." Nate said with a growl. "I don't care. You want to live out some crazy Oliver Twist story with Tweedledee and Tweedledum here, it's none of my business. I just want my stuff." Nate grimaced as he hauled himself upwards. And this is the part where he makes me have to kick his ass.
"Of course." The Samoan said, kicking Nate's dropped possessions over to him. "Children: you take them in off the streets and they still tell you where to shove it. They will be punished. Hard, man."
Nate sighed, pocketing his items and cracking his knuckles. Yep. That's the thing that's going to make me have to kick his ass, alright. "You born in Hudson City, man?" he said, standing upright.
The Samoan gave an inquisitive look at the smaller man, loosening his grip on the children. "Born and raised. Second generation."
"Ever hear that old saying? Gets passed around a lot?" Nate continued, looking the Samoan over from behind his shades.
"The hell you talking about?" The Samoan asked, letting go of the kids as Nate approached him.
"Know what?" Nate said, drawing his fist back. "I don't remember."
I love this town.
A battered and bruised Nate opened wide as he stuffed a kebab into his mouth, chewing on it slowly and making sure not to bite his swollen lip or to get any nose-blood on his lunch. No matter how far I get away from this place or where I go, I'll never stop loving this shitty old kebab joint. The owner is hairier than a coconut and eating here is like playing Russian Roulette with diarrhea, but this filthy little shithole makes the best damn kebab this side of the country. Finishing up his meal, Nate looked across the table at the two kids hungrily feasting on a bucket of chicken, smiling as best he could with a black eye and a busted-up lip.
"Good, huh? Best you ever had, right?" Nate asked, covering his fries in ketchup.
The two kids nodded in agreement, not quite deeming the question good enough to waste valuable chewing time answering. Regardless, Nate was satisfied, leaning back in his seat and flicking a fry into his mouth.
"Ain't perfect, but there's no place like home." He said, a content smile on his bruised face.
The lights flickered out as the entire street was covered by a sudden veil of darkness.
"Not another damn power outage! Get out of here! Go! I'm locking up! I can't take this crap anymore!" The clerk shouted, before veering off into another language to better express his anger in. The kids stood up and took their food, quickly running out of the store as Nate stood to his feet and made his way outside.
"You kids get to the adoption agency safe, alright? Ask for Ms. Tallumbaum and tell her Nate sent you. She'll take good care of you." Nate said, stooping down to look the two kids in the eye. "And remember, this city may be a shithole, but it could always be worse. Got it?"
The kids nodded and embraced Nate, surprising him a little, his eyes widening in shock. With a warm smile and a few minutes to adjust, however, he returned the hug and stood, watching the kids run down the dark street as the streetlights flickered back on.
Millennium's a good city. Nice people, nice housing, nice restaurants and cars. Everything's nice. But it's like that saying: 'You can run and you can hide but you can't forget Hudson.' Yeah. That's how it goes. Nate gave a contented sigh and looked up at the moon, tilting his cap back to get a better view. ...Those damn kids stole my wallet, didn't they? With an irritated growl, Nate turned and sprinted after the two kids, cursing Hudson City with every fibre of his being.
I hate this town.
