Kidd Vicious 1: in The Cosmic Ebb and Flow

By Jason Bond

Kidd Vicious 1 in The Cosmic Ebb and Flow is the first book in Adrian "Kidd" Vicious' adventures across the Multiverse. In a story where the mundane clashes with the extraordinary, a transcendent legacy unfolds within Kidd. This is the gripping tale of a young adult thrust into a multiverse of power and peril. Upon his father's

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bond-Age Creatives
• Release date: May 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9781777821449

Book preview

Kidd Vicious

In

The Cosmic Ebb

and Flow

By Jason Bond

Copyright © Jason Bond 2024

All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by Canada's copyright law.

ISBN: 9798883666758

Portions of this book are works of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Front cover design by Jason Bond & A.I. Generated Images

Author Photo by Sheena Cimino

Dedicated to Josie.

Who is always a shining beacon of hope,

not just to me, but to our children as well.

To my amazing son Jude.

Who sees the world in his own scientific lens,

full of whimsy and wonder.

And to Jacqueline.

Who’s strength rivals that of her mothers,

yet so sweet and full of love.

Many Thanks to Sheena Cimino

For the amazing author photoshoot.

Hey, hey, so before we start this shit, the dude that wrote this whole book (whatever the fuck that means. I mean this is my book!)) wants me to say some shoutouts and recommendations of some dope bands, places, and peeps. So here goes:

Check out the Heart Attack Kids. They’re a high voltage rock-and-roll punk band that fucking kicks major ass from London, Ontario. They revolutionize punk with their edgy vocals, static baselines, shredding chords, and thrashing drums. Their high energy, give-no-fucks attitude is presented by Jared Elis on guitar and vocals, Kayla Purves on bass and vocals, and last but not least Eric Freeborn on Drums and vocals. Happy Raging (They sound like my cup of tea, maybe this writer dude isn’t so bad)!

A few more bands to look into: Modern Outrage, Luau or Die, ThunderGlove, Rat Parade, The Dorkies, Dead Roots, Holly Acres and The Kaputniks!

Next up for all you edge-lords give a read to Duck with a Tie comics on Insta for lots of hilarious and masochistic content (sounds like the writing in this book...haha, fuck you Jason!) Duck can always use more friends to disappoint him. Joined by Rabbit, Turtle and other buddies, they keep Duck from having his cake and eating it. Words and art created by Nolan J. Moore.

Duckwithatie.com

In need of premium smokes, weed, and other dope shit (Always Jason, always) then visit Indige Smoke in the Niagara region. Operated by the Niagara Caledonia Reserve. They have the best prices in all the region and you may even be lucky enough to meet Misha Nikanorov, the brains behind their insane progression (I’m always down for a dart so good shit there I'm listening. I really wish I was of age, soon!). You’ll leave there with lots of goodies and money left in your wallet.

Lastly, but certainly not least, hit up Camp Cataract in downtown Niagara Falls for a bite of amazing Za and a beer. Watch some live shows with friends. If you stay late enough Bryan and Courtney might even offer you a shot. If you don’t take it you may be added to their No-Shots wall.cThe best brews, music, and food at Camp Cataract.

Oh. And a special thank you to REN, who let me use his music for my advertisements on social media.

Prologue

I begin my attack by sending my palm forward. A vicious wave of gravity soars into a sea of soldiers, sending them flying. Once I make contact with the frontline troops, I punch a second hole in their numbers. I shift to my liquid alloy and spray a stream on the ground in front of me. The alloy begins to crumple everything it touches. I run forward and jump. Mid spin, I charge faster sending another massive gravity wave infused with planet essence into the ground towards another group charging me. The ground collapses, crushing a few and toppling the rest.

With eyes full of rage and essence, I yell to any onlookers, STAND DOWN!

Ahead I can see another massive wave of soldiers. Over the comm a click comes in, Grack’s ship just went through the barrier! It was Evi, I hope she’s safe!

GET TO THE WALL! As I turn, the sky above begins raining explosive rounds…

Woah let’s back way the fuck up. Let me catch you up to speed before I spoil something great!

Introductions

  Where to start? …Where to start? Alright, I’m going to apologize ahead of time, but I’m going to have to talk about my life a little bit here. Just calm the fuck down and bare with me, I promise I’ll jazz it up.

My name is Adrian Kidd Vicious. What you are about to read is in fact…completely true, no, seriously.

Due to my aggressive behaviour my friends, classmates and rivals deemed me the nickname ‘Kidd Vicious’. Everyone agreed that my middle and last name suited me best. Well, my friends call me Kidd. Others say ‘Kid’ as if to insult me, rolls off my back. Like I give a shit, most people are just jealous because, not going to lie, I kick ass (Too conceited?). I am eighteen years young; I rock long dark brown curly hair and reach a height of five feet ten inches. I am paired with a swimmer’s body, and a good bit of muscle from the years of fighting and martial arts. I have a slender face with little stubble for my age and ocean blue eyes.

Today is the first day of my senior year in high school…again (Fuck!).

Before I sound too smug, a very extreme set of events take place on this day. The reason you are even aware at this moment is because I have dived into a whole world of trouble…otherworldly trouble. So, I feel that I need to chronicle my endeavours.

Before I start, let us journey back in time. Relax I do not care for time wasting and I am not one to add pointless details, I mean who would even appreciate that?

Let us start with my parents.

My mother dearest is, and always has been Monique Vicious, born and raised here in this boring town of Regent. She is the epitome of success. She works for a marketing company but has been promoted so many times I am surprised she does not run the company yet. In hindsight this is probably why my father, and I do not see much of her. She can be sweet but oh so tough, fierce, and just downright full of moxie. Pretty sure I got my hair from her.

On the extremely far other end of the spectrum is my dad. Oh dad, dad, dad. His name is Len Vicious, and he is the oddest person on the face of Earth. He is a stay-at-home dad. I can respect that my parents both have their strengths and work with them. He is a very sweet man but super kooky. He does have a side hustle of inventing things, things that you would never think of, and he really can never deliver. It’s as if something is always missing and I mean even I know if he could get these things going, he could make millions. His preoccupation with his invention’s falter after a bit and then he dives into something else randomly. His moods change and excitement quickly moves on. I completely understand him but then also find him confusing as hell.

As a toddler It was apparent, I was a terror. Once I hit age five, I started Karate, which I took to quite fast. I was okay in school but loved the insight behind martial arts. I watched tons of ridiculous fighting movies (way younger than I should have) and slowly progressed through the beginner belts. Once I hit age nine, I was progressing over 9000 (Sorry anime references incoming). Which my sensei must have noticed as he asked if I wanted to try out his class that takes place after this one. It was an age group of eleven plus, but he said I could keep up. My sensei was great, I took to this new class of learning Jiu Jitsu and then as I progressed being exposed to the older kids I slowly returned to my wily ways and aggression. At age fourteen I was such a little shit. I got into lots of fights at school, my sensei knew this and eventually he had enough and advised me that he can no longer train someone with so much anger and to look to the principles of karate and calm myself before I return. I flipped him off and said,

Go Fuck yourself. Bridge burned.

From age fourteen to seventeen I took to the exciting world of Mixed Martial Arts. I Knew this would be my career (Ha-Ha don’t worry it wasn’t, but when you’re young and naive you believe in anything). I took it upon myself to investigate the deadliest thus coolest martial arts and learned them on my own. My brain is like a sponge which in retrospect maybe I should have used it to learn in school instead.

Now mind you I am no master but, I did practice a lot with the group of misfits that eventually became my longstanding friend group. We tried everything from parkour to Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, Eskrima, Bacom, Vale Tudo, even old school crazy shit like ninjitsu. We also practiced rough-and-tumble wrestling. We were no masters but if someone wanted to throw-down, we knew what we were doing. I knew my friends had my back and I theirs, the way they had mine was more in a sense of not taking it too far and pulling me off the other guy. Kidd, stop you sound like a douchebag. I also love to shred on a board of any sort!

My high school presence during these times felt like pure unbridled chaos. I was king, I became known from the first day of grade nine. This big guy named Greg was in grade eleven. He was starting off the year picking on Clyde. Greg was an asshole but that stopped when I saw him grabbing Clyde as he was making his way to his locker. I don’t think I even gave him a chance to present his method when I B-lined over to him with a big

Hey Asshat when he turned, he went down.

It surprised the kids around. Mrs. Smith saw and brought us both to the office where I spent my first day of high school late in detention. My parents were not happy, hoping I wouldn’t bring this behaviour to high school. I don’t regret ever standing up for someone. Sure, I like to fight and be a dick sometimes but there is no way I’m a bully or anything of the sorts.

The next day the entire school knew about my escapade with Greg, our roles switched even though I was more seen as a defender for justice, for the weak. I quickly became way more popular than I would have cared to be. I had the choice of anyone as friends, even Greg’s group of dumbasses.

I dated pretty people here and there. You could say I was blessed with Rizz, yeah i know... total edge-lord. By grade ten I found her, Connie Shepherd. She was my little firecracker, she was like me in terms of personality aside from the confusing fact of the sweetness that drips from her eyes, lips and mouth. She confused me as she could hold her own, even against the rape-culture promoting bigots. She has this kind of energy, she envelops me with just a touch, just a glance. She smells of amber and catches the eyes just the same. Her eyes, the lightest brown; like when the sun shines through the leaves, hitting a tree trunk illuminating the brown to an almost golden haze. Dark brown hair with curls much more prominent and energetic than mine own. She also has a birth mark on her neck in an incredibly unique shape looking like a small continent drifting on her satin pale skin.

We met after a football game. I went, but don’t play, I mainly just go to smoke weed with my buddies under the away bleachers and watch drama unfold.  Her sitting directly above us smelled the sweet scent of Spidey’s Girlfriend and came down to peek. We locked eyes, she wore this spunky outfit with a red leather jacket with half sleeves and cut short on the waist. The one you could have seen possibly Michael Jackson wearing in his early career. Underneath she had a Band Tee and black skinnies, and a dusted pair of black and white Converses. She was not nervous to be around a group of ruffians. She walked up to me as it was my turn to puff and coyly asked if we shared with the enemy.

We exchanged numbers. From then on sparks flew, we were dating shortly after. It was like a rocket, we we’re deep in it but also it was casual and free. She loved her space and our time together. She loved my attitude, not because she thought I was like this boss on the town but more so, she thought I was the biggest idiot. She likes when I fight for weaker people’s behalf but, still thinks I’m a doorknob due to my methods. She gets things done without the fists flying. She is just a dream.

Well, you are almost caught up but, I should probably introduce you to my friend group but instead I’ll just sum it up with; Markus who is my best friend, we are kind of opposites, well I mean he is built, but he doesn’t like fighting. He has short brown coil-y hair and pastel dark skin. Hugo is quiet but when he talks it’s either super-duper smart (not like that.) or incredibly funny. Wit like a wiseman. Lorne is great, she is fun and ridiculous. A funky redhead in a small package. This friend group was my well-developed friends from all the phases of my teenage years. My other friends I used to fight with all moved on to others, and I stuck with these odd characters.

I feel like that’s good for now.

Chapter 1: The First Day of the Rest of My Life

Let’s skip ahead to, well, today!

The first day of grade twelve (I should have already graduated but I was held back for reasons ‘unknown’). I cannot wait to get through this year and be free to explore the world and figure out my calling.

I honestly know not what I want in life. I can definitely see Connie there and I know that high school relationships never last and usually you need to experience different people and what-not to ensure you’re making the best decision in life. I just have this feeling though that we fit like a two-piece puzzle. Maybe I’m just living the whole lie telling myself because I can’t lose her. She is way out of my league though.

My dad seems off today. He gets likes this every once and a while. A huge stick up his ass, metaphorically of course!

He has a condition that the doctors cannot figure out, but he basically gets hemorrhaging throughout his body and horrible headaches. Apparently, he has an odd blood type that is and isn’t AB Negative. The doctors never seen it exactly at this strain. It mimics but isn’t AB Negative. He didn’t want a huge worldwide explosion from it so the moment the doctors prodded for more info he kept to himself.

The thing is you shouldn’t be able to live with blood hemorrhaging inside your temple and spreading throughout your body where it shouldn’t, I mean I feel like he should have died many times.

So now every once and a random while he gets horrible headaches for like a few hours, weirdly enough he is not kooky-like in these times he is stern, all about lessons, and how to see things for what they really are. The first few times this occurred my mother and I were terrified he was leaving this world. Now it’s just something I remember throughout my life, so it is, what it is. He is some medical marvel that could possibly be suffering from something unique to himself. Let’s leave it at that.

I am going to wake up now and get this shit started, I’m sure you’re bored of my yammering.

It begins again, school. The thought of having to start it all over, so much more skipping, fights, half-assed work. It gives me a quick shudder, then I open my eyes and peel myself out of bed. Like I said, dad was in a mood, too much blood swimming in places it shouldn’t. I ignore him yelling up at me to wake up.

I reach for my drawer of band tees, ripped and tattered clothes to find the most presentable don’t-give-a-shit ensemble I can find. Which happens to be ripped blue skinnies, a black belt, and a sleeveless Ramones shirt. As always, I am sporting my faux leather half studded arm band on my wrist for that extra fuck-you touch. Now I can hear my dad clearly about to make his way up in annoyance, I let out a quick,

Yeah, yeah! Fuuuuuck I’m coming! I can hear him down there stewing after that. Hah! fuck you dad, I know I can be a lot but I’m just so stubborn to change and mornings are not my cup of tea.

Down, down, down the steps to the kitchen. I jump and skip most of the steps, Inch into the kitchen and find moms lunch bag labeled Moni and yes, my dad is so cringe, everyday a lunch made with a cutesy little heart beside her pet-name.

Mom off already? I ask. She forgot her lunch.

Yes, please have a little bit of respect in the mornings, I wanted to talk to you about something. He blurted with an impatient tone.

Alright Dad, you have the floor. I try not to roll my eyes. He starts this off like I’ve seen many times before. Gets to the table with a bowl of mush of some sort, and kind of slide-drops it onto the table where its end journey is perfectly in front of me (One thing, my dad always had crazy dope reflexes). He sits down solemnly directly across from me on our nice generic square white IKEA kitchen table.

Son, don’t overthink what I am going to say, please. I look away for a second, I don’t know why it always scares me. Probably because it’s paired with his weird medical condition. My Mom does not seem to worry anymore though, like I’m just not in on the joke?

Sure, Dad… sorry for being an asshole right off the bat, you know first day of last grade. I try to shrug it off. I feel reluctant and that maybe sometimes I should have maybe tried, sometimes I’m able to be kind.

Adrian, I want you to know that things are not always what they seem, I know you, as a teenager, think you know what’s right…

I interrupt with a quick, Hardly, Sorry.

He continues, You know how I can sometimes seem distant and other times far too clingy. In time, these things will begin to make more sense to you, and I won’t be around forever, with my condition it could happen any day. No matter my tough exterior, hearing those words sends a shiver through me.

I know you are physically strong, and your will seems almost unbreakable, but to be prepared for your life ahead you need to learn to become emotionally strong. He pauses looks down at his hands, and I swear I see a glimmer of shame for some unknown reason.

You have no idea son, what you are and will be capable of.

Dad, I am emotionally strong, I don’t let any shit affect me, I just let it roll off. I quip back.

That is not emotional maturity, you wouldn’t be getting into pointless fights, you would know the right fights to be fought. The Passion for fighting is how I know. It’s about the better of two outcomes. If you can achieve Peace without fighting, and know you are never alone, you will always have the people around you to help with your cause in the right way.

Fuck, Dad. If I wanted a lecture, I would have watched some Ted Talks. Before he tries to say another word, I push out,

Look I’m going to school. I love you, Dad, but I think you need to calm your shit. Then I storm off.

I can hear him whimper as I storm to the door, slip on my shoes, and pick up my backpack (which my dad clearly, and carefully packed with all the new school things I would need.).

Why do I got to be such an ass? I just can’t do these big sad talks. I am not going to say I’m too macho to cry or any of that bull but, I don’t like being vulnerable (Connie is the only one who sees me like that.). I open and close the front door with a half slam During this I hear my dad let out a cry. I get that maybe I can learn to be more emotional but maybe he should learn to be a little less.

Starting off the day like this just gets me in a BAD mood. I walk the ten minutes with my music blaring some beautiful composition of guitars, drums, and screaming. The music pulses through my anger. The heaviness doesn’t make it worse, metal eases me some. Metal and Jazz, yeah, you can fight me about that.

Chapter 2: This Shit Again

In the distance, I can see the crowds and groups in front of the school yard. You can see the faces of defeated freshman clearly filled with anxiety. Ah the joys of growing up. Luckily, things have gotten pretty PC in the world the last decade, and if someone does want to mess with anyone, I’m always itching to teach a lesson.

I keep walking past the school and into this small parking area behind. Near the edge of the lot there are four thick trees in a sort of square, great area for my buddies to smoke and skip first period (Don’t worry, not on the first day). School days suck, I mean I love my friends and I don’t usually mind class that much, unless I do that day, then I skip. The fact that Connie is great in school means she doesn’t skip and that also means I don’t get to see her until schools done. So yeah, today and every other day will be a drag.

One more year, I barter with myself. I mean I know I’m not going to amount to much, and I have no real ambition, but I fake it for now, I want Connie to always look at me as the Bees Knees, I know at some point she will find someone better.

That day will be hell.

Low and behold the rejects! I shout as I move closer to the trees. Huge grin on my face I meet eyes with Lorne, Markus and this other fellow I’ve never seen before. Clyde doesn’t skip either, so he hangs with us on lunch and after school.

Who’s the looker?

This big brown tall guy stands there, he keeps height with Markus which is impressive as Markus is like six foot five. Sleek shiny black short hair and a friendly but ‘don’t fuck with me’ face on. He will fit in fine.

The name is Govind, just moved here from Toronto. He seemed less than personable when he spoke.

So, you saw some punks smoking and figured you found your new group? I insist.

Markus interjected with,

He is actually my new neighbour, so we hit it off first two weeks into summer. He is shy but once he lets loose this guy is the best. I feel bad I spent most of the summer with Connie and neglected my friends especially Markus, otherwise I would have probably known these facts. I am kind of a shit friend.

Well, if Markus says you’re good then I’m cool with you. Names Adrian but these fools call me Kidd.

Govind questions this immediately,

Kidd?. Lorne with a goofy look on her face pulls out this Captain Morgan pose and proudly lets out,

Like the pirate!

It’s his middle name. Adds in Markus.

Okay fair enough. He quietly adds.

The Bell rings and since it’s the first day we all agree that we should probably meet teachers and such. We begrudgingly walk like zombies to the front door. As seniors our first day is much more low-key. We go to a table where a surly attendance lady named Dorothy asks for our name and then gives us our timetable.

We get extra time to go to our first class. I really take my time and eventually make my way there. Fucking English, first period? What a nightmare. I never had this teacher, but I’ve heard he is a strict asshole, so I know we’re just going to butt heads.

Grab a desk, I don’t care where you sit, but let me be clear, if any time is wasted, I will move you. Half the class is already sitting leaving a few spots left. I sit down and mindlessly wait till the class is over. Nothing important ever happens on the first day so I usually don’t skip it, you know, no work, no problems!

Next class… I have math. What a semester this will be, at least I pinpoint Markus and Govind with an empty desk beside them at the back. We chat and don’t care much about the introductions of our new math teacher who is also starting this school year new.

Lunch comes and goes the fastest. Next art, snore. Finally, my fourth period I have gym.

I don’t get to choose my electives as I have missed on too much work, I usually do an overhaul at the end of the year so I can scrape by and pass. They hate me at this school, so they allow it so, I don’t have to return a fifth time, sixth time and so forth. Gym is a godsend since, it’s just the easiest shit and I’m fit enough to be at the top of whatever physical thing we may do. In gym I see a few new faces, but one face rubs me the wrong way. The guy’s name is Kirby, and he just reeks of Dickhead.

In the changing room he’s boasting,

New school new pussy. Who has the ‘Deets’? Some of the jocks seem to already follow him around and I obviously take the opportunity to finally have some fun today.

Hey mouthpiece, show some respect to the ladies of our school, none of them want your balls in their face. Pretty timid for my usual quips. He still takes the bait.

They call you Kid, right? Is that because you haven’t hit puberty. He looks already halfway to overwhelmed.

Look say what you want about me, you’ll never get to me, but treat your fellow peeps nice and we’ll all get along. I say as I stare him straight in the eyes. He now looks about ready to punch me.

Alright dipshit, I’m going to be the new hotshot around here once I become the quarterback and get this school into its first ever win, how about we settle this after school and when I’m done with you, I’ll treat people however the fuck I want. He is writhing and fuming.

He may also be right our school is pathetic, maybe he could lead us to victory in one sport, but I could care less about school spirit. I give it a second of just us staring then I give him a shove. With just enough force to start things without ending it too fast.

I don’t want it to be just an attack. Now I’m sounding way too cocky, but this is the most appropriate way to be inappropriate. He takes the bait and is hooked in. literally, he starts with a wide right hook, most jocks that are muscled just think brute force can win, it’s mostly about speed and direction. I raise my right arm to check his inner arm and it wraps around mine rendering the hook useless, then with a quick jab to his gut with my prominent left hand I can feel his lunch.

He instinctively backs up as far as he can before he notices that after the check, my right arm pulled him forward. My foot sweeps and then grabs the ragged right arm with my right, as I pull, my left foot pushes down on his left.

Now he is tumbling forward out of balance before he reaches the ground. His sternum meets my knees lifting him up in the air slightly and then back down. As he furiously tries to shuffle back to his feet, we meet eyes and I send the already cocked fist I had waiting into his nose and possibly a portion of his eye. He goes to sleep, but not before our gym teacher Mr. Dunsk who heard the commotion jumps in.

GET TO THE OFFICE NOW! red-faced, he’s clearly under stress of the situation. He wakes up Kirby by his collar, raises him to his feet and as I’m leaving yells over,

Stop! Never mind, I am going to walk you both there, everyone, start with twenty laps around the gym! He walks us over. The three of us silent, Kirby clearly defeated and sniveling as if now he’s been given an injustice even though he was the asshat.

Mr. Dunsk explains to the receptionist Ms. Copperstone who nods in agreement about our punishment.

We wait in a lineup of chairs against a wall in front of the office reception desk waiting to see the principal Mr. Fuck You, nah it’s Mr. Sulin. He is a small Asian man who loves kids and being a principal, but the kids like me have worn him down over the years and now he is a shell of the educator he used to be.

Chapter 3: Detention

Eventually the meeting with whomever the fuck that was (I don’t sometimes pay attention to my surroundings) ends and we get the greenlight from Ms. Copperstone. I walk in first as if I know the drill and Kirby follows in shame. I’m guessing he is a trust-fund kid with rich parents and isn’t used to pissing off daddy.

Mr. Sulin meets eyes with me as I enter and sit in the left most chair across from his desk. He looks disappointed and you can tell the stress weighs on him. I get it, it’s the first day of school and I am already in the office. Mom and Dad will be pissed. Mr. Sulin has a great relationship with my parents due to all the calling and actual meetings they’ve had for my sake. It’s no different than the other times I’ve been here.

I don’t even defend my point; Kirby tells some fabricated version of it, where he was some lovely role model until I come in and wreak havoc. I don’t accept or deny the story. Mr. Sulin knows why I get into fights. He knows that Kirby’s story is probably crap, but he accepts it and continues his lecture. I’m guessing daddy is important and Mr. Sulin does not want to deal with the man with lots of money and power.

After his lecture is done, he tells us to go back to gym and that after school we will be with Mrs. Clark while she grades papers from summer school sitting there bored. I know the drill of course, whoever is staying late, sits there silently hoping not to piss her off. She is mean enough to deal with detention kids.

The rest of gym is uneventful other than the funny pathetic looks Kirby tries to drive into me, I shrug-em off. I am sure we won’t be done with this.

I walked to Mrs. Clark’s resource room, she looked up as I entered the room for half a second, with a dead look,

What a surprise, take a seat Mr. Vicious. She had an unimpressed but mostly unmoving look on her face, then went back to her grading. Kirby was already there. I also notice a few other kids who are usually here. We make small talk as Kirby sits quietly. Detention inches by at a snail’s pace. We all stare down the clock for the last five minutes to pass. Mrs. Clark is done grading and setting up tomorrows lesson plan for her day and now does not care about the fact that the seven kids are waiting for the final moments to pass by.

She