West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide by K.M. Johnson-Weider Page A

chuckle.
    “Yeah, I guess
that’s true,” said Cosmic Kid guiltily.
    “Relax, Patrick, I
manage a fast-food restaurant and you save the world – you don’t need super
powers to flip burgers.”
    “If someone is
willing to pay you an outrageous salary, then you deserve that outrageous
salary – super powers or not,” said Stephen.
    “Fools and their
money, right?” said John.
    “No, it’s capitalism
at its best,” said Stephen. “Cosmic Kid will get a big payout because he has
the skills to be a successful superhero. He also has a strong fan base and
handles publicity well. He’s the complete deal and teams value that, because
they get someone who makes their team more effective and profitable. From
sponsorships and merchandising, the team that signs Cosmic Kid will get three
to five times their investment, just in the first year.”
    “I guess, but it is
a lot of money,” said Cosmic Kid. “I often think about how many police officers
my salary would pay for – two hundred, three hundred. I may be good, but I know
I’m not worth hundreds of police officers.”
    “The team is
separate from the city, so it’s apples and oranges,” said Stephen. “The police
are great, but when it comes to supervillains or alien invasions it’s the
supers who save the day and you can’t put a price tag on that.”
    “Sure you can, I
hear it’s $10 million,” quipped John. “Honestly, Patrick, you deserve the
money. You’ve worked hard with Teen Ultimate and are a natural at being a
superhero. Your mother would be very proud of you, and she would tell you to
have Stephen rake them over the coals to get as much money as possible. At the
least, we need to support Stephen’s extravagant lifestyle.”
    “Dad, don’t pick on
poor Stephen,” said Cosmic Kid with a smile.
    “Mr. Minor, my
commission is based on results,” said Stephen. “If you let me renegotiate your
contract with Cosmic Burger, I could get you a 50-percent raise.”
    “Fast food managers
don’t have agents,” chuckled Mr. Minor.
    “And that’s why they
don’t make $10 million,” said Stephen, returning his attention to his
HoloBerry. The three of them fell silent again and waited for the limousine to
move closer to the front entrance. The Bradley Arena loomed over them and they
were closing in steadily on the end of the line.
    “What do you think
Mom would say to me right now?” asked Cosmic Kid, breaking the silence.
    John looked out the
window thoughtfully and smiled. “She would say ‘whatever the hell you do in
life, don’t slip on the ice when you get out of the limo’.”
    Stephen looked out
the window and nodded, “your mom has a point.”
    “That’s how you get
into the news cycle,” said Cosmic Kid with a laugh.
    “You say that now,
but it’s not what we want up on YouTube for the world to see,” said Stephen.
    “It’s not the fall,
but how you get up that matters. If I fall, I get up, laugh, and toss out some
quip, like ‘I can now confirm that gravity is the same in Milwaukee as Cosmopolis ’. Everyone laughs at the lame joke and all is
well,” said Cosmic Kid.
    “I guess, but let’s
not fall,” said Stephen.
    “Sure thing.” Cosmic
Kid looked outside at the approaching entrance, the crowds of fans, and
swarming superazzi. From the limousine in front of them a thin young woman with
pale skin and a black flowing costume exited. “Epiphany’s getting out ahead of
us.”
    “Epiphany… ,” said
Stephen checking his HoloBerry which was projecting a holographic screen only
visible to Stephen at this angle, but Cosmic Kid could imagine how it was
configured to display all the key draftees. “She is out of Houston’s teen team,
a psychic, pretty powerful, projected to go at #9 to Baltimore,” said Stephen,
who sounded pleased with himself.
    “Yes, she also loves
lilies, has three poodles named after characters from Shakespeare plays, is a
member of PETA, and her big vice is donuts, but that’s the same