Bouncing Back (Ricochet)

[Rift]

It had been a several years since Johnny Gallo had been back to New York. Born and raised in Brooklyn he knew the city well. It was where he learned he was a mutant, where the golden age hero Black Marvel had approached him with a costume and an offer to be the superhero his mother always thought he was, and where he'd taken his first steps into the larger world filled with beings of immense power and darker schemes. Across the rooftops and even into the labyrinthine sewer systems beneath the streets was where he'd learned to harness his innate gifts to try and save lives as a member of The Slingers. He'd met the people that to this day he considered his closest friends and where he went to school in the city.

It was also a place filled with as many bad memories as there were good.

He'd lost his mom as a kid simply because his mutant gene had triggered for the first time and some psycho saw it as a chance to try and acquire him for God only knows what reason. It was where Cass, the Slinger known as Dusk had fallen to her death only to return as something more. The Big Apple was also where his father proved once and for all that nothing he could do would be good enough for him, where he learned that the entire idea of the Slingers was a mere ruse by the demonic hell lord Mephisto, and where he lost his best friend Eddie because he selfishly didn't want to suit up if there was nothing to gain from it.

When he'd headed out West he had never considered he might return. There were too many ghosts among the skyscrapers, too many feelings threatening to boil up and spill out without notice, and it already had plenty of costume wearing vigilantes running around. It didn't need Ricochet and it held nothing for Johnny Gallo.

Then came the Civil War between heroes over the Superhuman Registration Act.

He'd been in California when it all went down, attending meetings like some kind of young superhero version of Alcoholic Anonymous in the basement of a church. There he sat and listened to other former teenage heroes recount how their powers and attempts at being like their idols had backfired on them. They shared stories of pain and loss and swore up and down they'd never return to the costumes and would dissuade any and all youngsters thinking of following in their footsteps. Save some kids the same heartache. It allowed him to feel some comraderie with the group and to reassure him he wasn't alone. Or at least that was the lie he told himself.

In truth he stuck around because of a girl and because he felt comfortable with the routine of wallowing in pity. It took him awhile to come to terms with the fact that he was still grieving. For his mom, for his terrible relationship with his dad, and for Eddie. Deep down he knew that if he had accepted The Hornet's offer and returned to the streets as Ricochet, he likely would have been just as dead.

It was Wolverine. Dude slices and dices giant mutant hunting robots and ancient mutant nightmares like it is nothing. Even my Danger Sense only would have kept me ahead of his claws for so long. But maybe, just maybe I could have gotten Eddie to safety or gotten him help in time. Instead, I pouted about how being a superhero was not all I thought it was. I moped over not getting money or even so much as a thank you, while my friend died.

Knowing it likely would have ended with both of them dead didn't make a difference. His heart didn't give a crap about what his brain knew. So when the chance arose he put on the mask again. He lied and said it was because he was trying to help his new friends in the Loners, but he knew better. The itch to get back out there, to make a difference no matter how small, and to do better than he had was always there. He just needed the right excuse. When he finally had one and got involved in things that were, as usual, over his head and well above his paygrade, he decided to stick to it. The SRA and rumors of some kind of government sanctioned initiative could all go to hell. He was born with his abilities and he was determined to make up for past mistakes. To make his mom proud and to hopefully, one day, save enough people that it made up for not being there when Eddie needed him.

And so with next to nothing in his pockets he came home.

He hadn't been back in New York for more than a few hours, but he found himself at the first stop he could think of, the only one that really mattered. A graveyard.

Standing in front of his mother's headstone, Johnny smiled.

"Hey mom. Been awhile I know. I'm sorry about that. I was just...just finding myself I guess. Damn that's cheesy. No, I was running. I wasn't being your little hero. Heroes don't run and that's what I was doing. Running away. From dad, from all the loss, and from my own mistakes. But I'm back now. I still don't know that the city needs me, not with Spider-People and Iron Guys everywhere, but that's okay. While everyone is out beating up super vaillains and stopping alien invasions someone is bound to need a cat brought down from a tree or I dunno, someone willing to leap across the street with little old ladies hard of seeing?"

He laughed. "Honestly I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm not running. Not anymore. They call me Ricochet so I'm gonna live up to it. Things are not going to keep me down because no matter what life throws at me I just got to bounce right back."

As he finished speaking a police siren wailed in the distance.

"Duty calls. No rest for the wicked and all that. Anyway, love you mom. Miss you. And I promise, I'm going to do it right this time."

[Rift]

Soon After...

Johnny now in full Ricochet gear, leapt off of a fire escape to hit the wall of the next building over, only to kick off towards the street where he grasped a nearby streetlamp and flipped like a gymnast up into a crouched position atop it. In the very near distance was a group of men, each wearing masks with odd costumes and carrying weapons. They were in a rush, trying to remove all manner of merchandise they'd just stolen from a pawn shop whose front windows has been shattered and the bars cut through with some kind of advanced blowtorch.

One of the crooks, seemingly the leader, wore a cheap pinstripe suit with a pleather fedora and a plastic black and white skull mask. He stood overseeing the others, constantly checking his digital watch, which from Ricochet's vantage looked like a knockoff of a knockoff or even a kid's watch. 

"C'mon let's get a move on people. That explosion a few blocks over will only divert the cops for so long! We need to get going! You know the deal. Jewels and valuables in the bags, weapons and tools in the racks! Just like we've practiced," he shouted.

Huh. And here I was lucky enough to stumble on these morons because I just happened to come this route on my way to the explosion! For once having to rely on parkour to get around the city worked in my favor. Maybe my luck is looking up! Ricochet thought.

Then he noticed the guns. He was no expert, but they didn't look like the common variety firearms carried by the majority of thugs or even wannabe mafioso types. If he had to guess, Johnny would have figured them to be military.

Riiiight. So much for that luck changing. Just once I would like to get some bad guys that carry airsoft guns or spraypainted NERF blasters. I mean what are the odds a C-lister like me would end up tackling the well-funded criminals? Surely there has to be some dollar store crooks around here, he thought bitterly.

Without further delay he jump flipped into a dropkick that landed squarely in the head thief's back, sending the man face first onto the gravel.

"Wow. Guys, I really have to hand it to you. Not the whole explosion as a diversion thing, that's been done to death. But the costumes? I mean congrats. You are singlehandedly giving Spirit Halloween advertising out of season," Ricochet said as he gave them a small golf clap. 

The others dropped their stolen good and took aim only to pause a moment in confusion.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" a guy in a plastic witch mask asked. 

"Wait for it," he replied.

Another of the crooks with a bad goateed devil mask pointed his rifle in Ricochet's direction. "Down on your knees, now!"

"Wait for it..." Ricochet repeated.

He knew he was pushing it, both the patience of the crooks and the timing of what he was trying, but he was relying on the fact his Danger Sense had not yet been triggered to determine that they were not actually ready to fire on him.

He felt the slightest tickled of his Danger Sense as devil mask took a step nearer, his finger inching towards the trigger. "Last time freak! On the ground now or I'm gonna..."

Before the man could fire or finish his threat the sound of metal pinging and clanging filled the air. A small golden blur bounced around, striking a street sign, the getaway vehicle, and the wall of the pawn shop. It didn't stop at the inanimate objects however as it struck Witch Mask hard enough to shatter his nose and crack the mask only to bounce into the gravel and ricochet into the knee of Devil Mask sending him to the ground with a sickening pop.

Suddenly the blur leapt towards Ricochet only for him to snatch it out the air. 

"There it is," he said with glee, twirling the disc he had thrown before ever confronting the men.

Walking towards the guy in the Devil Mask he stepped on his hand to prevent him from aiming the rifle and used his other foot to deliver a kick to the face that knocked him unconscious and obliterated the cheap mask.

"Oh come on guys! That was freaking epic. I mean even I wasn't sure it was going to work. You should have seen...well I guess you guys did get an up-close look at the disc so I don't have to tell you how cool it was.

The leader of the men stirred with a groan.

"Everyone's a critic," Ricochet muttered, making sure to kick the man's gun out of reach beneath their vehicle.

Just then a number of police cruisers raced down the street towards their location.

"And that's my cue to leave. Thanks guys and don't forget to tell your friends that Ricochet is back in town!"

With that turned towards the nearby alley and began leaping and flipping his way up to the rooftops and away from the crime scene.

The lead crook, groggy as cuffs were being slapped on by the cops, asked, "Who and what the hell is a Ricochet?"

[Rift]

A WEEK LATER...

The would-be thieves that Ricochet had taken down stood in large, dimly lit room. They were all clearly nervous, absently scratching at bandaged wounds or glancing around as if expecting someone or something to pounce upon them. This fear however was not over Ricochet. Several days on and they still had no idea who the heck Ricochet was. Their attorneys had argued that it was an unregistered vigilante who accosted them and as such the scene of the alleged crime had contaminated. While their cases had not been tossed in their entirety, portions were and the activist judge, an open opponent of all costumed crimefighters, let them out on bail. That bail had been paid by a mysterious third party and while they were grateful to be back on the streets, they were concerned now that they were coming fact to face with whoever it was that had flipped the bill for their freedom.

A sudden noise caused them to jump, startled when they realized it came from someone clearing their throat. Standing in shadows in the corner of the room, a gloved hand raised and gestured towards a number of chairs, beckoning them to sit. They did so, but not before checking the chairs for traps.

"So, you must be the guy that sprang us. Me and the boys, we's really grateful for all of that. I'm guessing since you invited us all here this is a job opportunity?" the lead criminal asked.

"Job opportunity? Job? You morons think that after you screwed up the heist that anyone would want incompetent fools like you lot working for their crew? My dear boy, that gig, the jewelry store that should have been so simple to knock over a learning impaired toddler should have been able to do it? That was the job opportunity and you buffoons blew it!" the shadowy figure snapped.

"That ain't our fault! We got jumped by some kind of mask!" one of the crooks complained.

"Oh poor you. I've tangled with actual problems boy. Real so-called heroes, the kind that make you check the skyline just in case every single time you step out your door. You lot? You were bested by some D-lister nobody has ever heard of. And what's worse is that you cost me."

The lead thief shook his head. "Screw that man, you weren't there! Besides..."

Suddenly the figure emerged from the shadows, red eyes glistening in the faint light, yellowed face and twisted smile seemingly wider than should have been possible.

"Besides what?" The Hobgoblin asked. "I laid out the plan. I made certain the explosion happened elsewhere to distract the authorities. And all you nincompoops had to do was waltz in and out with the loot, but instead you got bested by some second-rate circus freak who hasn't even learned that before you start marketing yourself, you need a defining gimmick."

"We...we didn't know it was a job from you. We'd heard you were..."

"What? Gone. Retired. Moved on up to that big beautiful goblin town in the sky? No such luck I'm afraid. No. I'm back, better than ever, and I'm looking for a few good miscreants to help remind this city what a real criminal is. Sadly, none of you passed the audition phase. See, I'm in the middle of something of a rebrand. The goblin name has been sullied by imposters, knockoffs, and frankly styleless hacks that don't know the first thing about the power of brand recognition. Now bad enough I had some government sanctioned goo monster raid my old lair, but now there's you losers. And one thing that the Hobgoblin is not? A loser. I can't be associated with it. Won't be."

"Then why did you spring us?" one of the men asked.

"Simple," Hobgoblin replied. "Lose ends. I've a great deal riding on making sure my return to the grand stage is nothing short of spectacular and awe inspiring and I can't have it screwed up by, well, screw ups."

Pressing a button on his gauntlet something in the wall opened, a zipping sound could be heard, and heads rolled from shoulders. The only survivor, ichor on his face, stared into the mask of the goblin and tried to scream.

"So congrats. You are the lucky winner. You get to walk away. Maybe. Tell me everything about this new so-called hero and you can leave. Heck, I'll even toss in a copy of my book to help you improve your own brand. And don't forget, always focus on your image. Make it a Hobby!" the supervillain declared, maniacal laughter trailing off.
-------------------------------

Across Town

Johnny Gallow stepped out into the rain and sighed.

"Used to be their were abundant job opportunities in this town. I mean when I left for California, I could have spit in any direction and found a position. Barista, fast food, retail, dish washer, waiter, something."

Having just received his third "no" in as many days, he wondered just what he was thinking when he decided to return to NYC.

No job, no money, not going to be able to keep crashing on friends' couches. Can't go and talk to dad. Man I know this flies in the face of everything I've learned since the Slingers, but if only I could make money as Ricochet. Punching muggers doesn't pay the bills. Maybe I just need a publicist. I mean everyone knows Spidey, the Avengers, heck even the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. My brand needs a serious makeover so people stop mistaking me for the other fifty gazillion spandex clad loons in this town, he thought.

"Maybe it isn't too late to go back to college. Or start a podcast? Yeah right. Like SHIELD wouldn't be knocking at my door the minute I did something like that. Besides, social media influencers are so cringe. Let it not be said that Ricochet is too good to be sponsored by a crappy mobile game though."

In truth, Johnny was fighting the urge to second guess his return to the Big Apple. Part of why he'd left in the first place was that the city was so congested with super types, there was no need for a rookie thrill seeker. He'd hear about a crime and before he could even find the right car or train to ride out to the scene, Spider-Man or Moon Knight or the Fantastic Four or any of the other umpteen million spandex wearing good guys had not only shown up, but shut down the crime. Whether it was a super villain or a purse snatching, it seemed like the city just didn't need one more hero.

Face it Gallo, that's not it. You were upset there was no press and angry that nobody knew who you were. No money, no accolades, no hobnobbing with celebrities. You wanted to use your power for personal gain and fame and when it wasn't easy, you hung it up. But that isn't you anymore. Not after Eddie. Not after Los Angeles. And besides, nobody showed up for those guys hitting the jewelry store. Nobody but you. And so what if nobody knows who Ricochet is? That just means you avoid another Nanny and Orphanmaker situation. How often does some nutjob working for the Kingpin take a swing at Daredevil because they know he's the guy causing trouble for their operations in the Kitchen? How many animal themed whack jobs make a run at Spidey just because the Bugle made him news? Better off not being on the radar be it criminals or the public, he thought.

"Besides, supervillains can wait. If I don't manage to get a job soon, my sorry self won't be able to afford Top Ramen let alone a PR person for my extracurriculars."