The spotlight locked in on the 14th floor of the glass and steel skyscraper in Rickman Plaza, with the police cars below creating their own flashing, red and blue light show.
Professor Purloin – rocking a magenta fedora, lime green tactical suit and small black mask – had expected some of the men and women of law enforcement to make the first move in an effort to stop his latest crime wave. On this night he was looking down on the crowd while standing behind three bound and gagged hostages with a high-tech laser weapon.
Once the police had been foiled, he’d then be forced to deal with either Spectacular Man or Frau the Fearless – or maybe both.
It was a dance he’d done many times, and one that made the Intrepid City High Security Prison his home away from home. In any moment, he figured he’d be greeted by a hostage negotiator who’d make a futile attempt at convincing him to surrender.
But when the door to the office he had commandeered opened, there was no sign of an arbiter.
Instead, it was an older gentleman adorned in a beige newsboy cap, baby blue polyester jogging suit, shiny white support sneakers and orange sunglasses.
Professor Purloin raised his weapon and took aim.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked.
The man cupped his right ear with his right hand.
“Could you say that again? My hearing isn’t so good.”
Purloin shook his head.
“I said … who the hell are you, old man!” Purloin shouted.
“Yessir, that’s me,” he answered.
Purloin frowned.
“That’s you?”
The man smiled.
“I’m Old Man. That’s what they call me now,” he said. “You know … because I’m old. I used to call myself Pinto Man. You know why? Funny story … about 50 years ago – or it might have been 60 – no, it was closer to 50 years ago because that was the same year I got my yellow Ford Pinto and was recruited by the Integrity Alliance of America. I’ll bet you’re too young to even remember Pintos, aren’t you? I got some whitewall tires for mine and had a Keep On Truckin’ sticker on my back bumper and I thought I was something else.”
Purloin lowered his weapon and stared at Old Man.
Was this some kind of joke? Did the guy walk away from an assisted living facility and get lost?
“Listen, Old Man,” he said. “I’ve never heard of you. I have no idea what you’re talking about, and you obviously have no idea who I am – or who you’re dealing with. I’ve fought all your superheroes – and none of them have been able to keep me locked up. Now what you need to do is just walk on out of here, go watch a Matlock rerun and then you don’t have to get hurt. I’ll just sit tight until the big guns arrive.”
Old Man laughed.
“Oh, I love Matlock,” he said. “I’ll bet you don’t know this, but Don Knotts made 17 appearances on Matlock. It was always good to see him and Andy Griffith together. Of course, it wasn’t as funny as when they were on The Andy Griffith Show. And if you ask me, that show was never the same after Barney left. Barney Fife was who Don Knotts played, by the way. And Andy Griffith played Andy Taylor.
“I guess because he was the star – Andy, I mean – he got to use his first name in the show. It’s probably best that Don Knotts didn’t use his. Don Fife isn’t as funny as Barney Fife. This is something though … I went to grammar school with a guy named Barney Knotts, and …”
Purloin unleashed a long groan.
“Holy crap, will you just shut the hell up!” he screamed. “You’re boring me to death, Old Man. I mean, I’m starting to get sleepy just listening to you drone on and on and on about … about … about …”
Purloin was overcome with a wave of confusion and dizziness, and felt the feeling start to drain from his arms. Suddenly he had the urge to simply close his eyes and go to sleep.
He dropped to his knees and the weapon fell from his hands, which seemed to involuntarily open.
Moments later he lay on the floor frozen – unable to speak – yet fully aware of everything going on around him. It was as though he was in a state of suspended animation.
Old Man briskly walked over to the hostages, untied them, and told them to take the nearest elevator down to the first floor where police and paramedics would be waiting for them.
He walked toward Professor Purloin and eased down on one knee.
“I don’t imagine you remember me,” he said. “I’ve been following you around for weeks – ever since you escaped from prison. Found out where you bought supplies, where you were holed up – pretty much knew your every move. About 10 days ago, I bugged your hideaway.
“And last week I was that old fellow who bumped into you on the street. I also injected you with a slow-acting paralytic. If you think back, you might recall feeling a little stick. It’s my own recipe … I have an IQ of 297 and a knack for designing chemicals. Intelligence is my superpower.”
Old Man slowly rose, cracked his back, and walked toward the window.
“You know how I caught you so easily?” he said. “Because you overlooked me. People like you always overlook people like me – older people. It’s like we don’t exist … we’re practically invisible. And because of that, it allows me to play up all the cliches and lull you into a false sense of security.
“I was ‘boring’ you on purpose because I needed a little more time for the paralytic to kick in. But I’ll tell you the truth … I do enjoy Matlock. And I get to watch it a lot because I just do this superhero stuff part-time.”
The police captain and several officers arrived in short order, cuffing Professor Purloin, dragging him to his feet, and taking him away.
“Good job, Old Man,” the captain said, patting him on the shoulder. “I gotta tell you, though … I was getting a little worried that you might not show up on time. You cut things pretty close.”
Old Man grinned.
“I got here as quickly as I could,” he said. “I had to eat first so I could take my pills.”