Birth of a Mastermind

Donovan entered my tree house today, about high noon. His slight frame stood barely half as tall as the ceiling, yet the whole room seemed taken up with him.

He threw his Mead Spiral on my desk. "Ryan," he said, "You're broke." He waited a moment for that revalation to sink in, then added, "It's all gone. Everything."

"Everything?" I asked.

"Everything."

"My baseball cards? The Power Rangers? My Trapper Keeper? My god man, say I still have the Trapper."

"All gone. Taylor was by, however, and he left you this."

Donovan handed me a satin cloth, clicked his heels, and climbed down the rope ladder.

I stared at the cloth for a moment or two, wondering what Taylor could have left. The cunning fourth grader had taken everything from me. My crime-solving business, my girlfriend, even the cigar box where we kept our fees.

I'm twenty-four years old; I should have known better than to trust a boy in elementary school.

Finally I opened the cloth. Inside it was grandfather's buffalo nickel--the first payment we ever recieved. It was for our first case: "The Case of the Mysterious Shed."

So he left me with something. He gave me what we started with, the foundation of our crime-solving empire. The message here was clear: Come get me, you son of a bitch. Climb to the top and come get me.

All right, rogue. I'll play your game. I failed as a hero, so now I must wear the cowel of a villain! Tonight I am born anew. Tonight I am no longer Ryan Arey, courageous solver of petty crimes. Tonight I will become..."The Foul Phantom"!

Ha ha ha ha ha!!!!