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firings, governmental
inquiries, and people turning up missing. Jones’s presence was felt
and feared by all who worked for him.
    The companies that made millions of dollars
for him weren’t enough. By the age of forty, he used his power to
gain pull in city office. He ran for mayor and won without a
problem. From there, he dictated and manipulated the town by
quickly passing bills that would benefit Jones Industries and
conceal lies it kept behind company doors.
    By fifty, he had become so enraptured with
power that he forwent running for another term in office and
concentrated solely on his businesses and his number one
passion—power. Jones learned while in office that he had to
constantly make sacrifices and trade-offs to keep the people happy.
He didn’t like that. He wanted to do what he wanted when he
wanted.
    By age sixty, Jones owned half the town.
Elmcrest was his playground. His reforms in government, law, and
the local businesses were unmistakable. He taught the town about
art, architecture, engineering, law, and enterprise. The town
started to thrive on his teachings and centered its entire economy
on Jones and his businesses. That was exactly what he had hoped
for. Soon, he was the town. He became responsible for all new real
estate developments, residential and business, and for bringing the
town into the next century. Phillip Arthur Jones was the most
powerful man in Elmcrest. The only thing that was more powerful
than Jones—was his ego.
    As Jones paced, waiting for the daily reports
of his financial status, the news finally returned from
commercial.
    This is it, he thought. Jones had been
waiting a long time for this day. This was the day he would unveil
one of his greatest accomplishments, and nothing stood in his way.
He could almost taste the power and the profit. He watched the TV
with great enthusiasm. The news was going to feature him, as it did
most days, but this newscast would report on the big event he had
planned for later in the day. It was to be spectacular—he had been
planning it for months.
    “Welcome back to Central News Station,” the
news anchor said. Jones turned up the volume with his remote
control and hung on every word. He loved the spotlight almost as
much as he loved his money.
    “In local news, we have a special treat for
our viewers,” the anchor announced, and Jones felt himself
straighten up with pride. His chest puffed out as he waited for his
big moment. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.
    “That’s right, Caroline,” the co-anchor said.
“We break away from our regularly scheduled story about Phillip
Arthur Jones and focus on the phenomenon of the secretive kid known
only as Kid Combat.”
    Jones turned from ecstatic to puzzled.
    “It seems this kid is everywhere,” the
co-anchor continued, “and still nobody seems to know who he is
…”
    At that moment, Two walked in. He was wearing
his standard black suit and was full of cheer as he brought in the
daily newspaper, along with some refreshments, for his boss.
    “Good morning, sir. I have your—”
    Jones extended his arm out to the side with
one finger up, silencing his second in command. His head didn’t
even turn from the TV, and Two knew better than to say another
word. Jones’s facial expressions got worse with every word the
reporter spoke.
    “The details are still very sketchy and are
still coming in, but the whole town is buzzing on who this kid is.
And we now learn—though it is not confirmed—there may be more of
them. Kid Combat certainly has become the buzz of this town, and it
looks like that will continue for quite some time, possibly until
someone uncovers the mystery of who this kid really is. We will be
staying with this story all morning, but first these messages,”
finished the reporter. The screen went black as an alerted and
obviously troubled Jones picked up the remote in haste and quickly
turned off the TV.
    “No one outshines Phillip Arthur Jones,” he
thought