Category Articles 2011

Originally posted: http://uscombatsports.com/index.php?option=com_flexicontent&view=items&cid=241&id=9516&Itemid=336
By: Peter Lampasona
Date: 19 August 2011
In the last installment of the Problem with Self Defense editorial series, I started to discuss the recent surge in discussion over the Real Life Superhero trend in New York. Last week, HBO aired a documentary called Superheroes following members of the recent phenomenon of private citizens dressing in costumes to engage in everything from from charity work to vigilante justice. Among the groups featured in the documentary is a make-shift team of Avengers who operate out of the New York boroughs known as the NY Initiative.
In part one of this two part series*, I discussed the charity work and general positive side of these adventurous cosplayers. But the obvious problem with trying to be a Real Life Superhero comes from the part where they have to be super.
*Editor’s note: Part one can be view here.
The practice of crimefighting, as the term is used by Real Life Superheroes, is the actual intervention by one of these masked vigilantes on a violent crime in progress. Crimefighting tactics can vary from reckless self-delusion to actions that can, themselves, be defined as violent crime.
A particularly active yet relatively sane neighborhood watch can film a criminal act, call the police, and submit the video as evidence. And, to be fair, a minority of Real Life Superheroes use this tactic. This is somewhat more sensible as the police are not omniscient, but are equipped and trained to handle potentially volatile incidents with a minimal of casualty on both sides.
Members of the NY Initiative have publicly expressed negative attitudes towards local police as justification for trying to perform jobs the police are much better suited for. The sentiment that the police are either spread too thin or just don’t care is a thin veil placed over what crime fighting really is: looking to start a fight with someone no one likes so they take the blame while the trouble seeker gets to simultaneously get out his aggressions and feel like he did a good deed.
I used to do the same thing as a maladjusted youth (going in to maladjusted adulthood) with surly drunks at public gatherings. And even though I was also intentionally putting myself in situations where someone with an itch to do something violent would appear to be the aggressor, it didn’t make me a hero so much as an asshole who would one day get shot going down that road.
The most egregious example of this danger seeking was featured both in the documentary and on multiple articles about the NY Initiative. It is a practice they refer to as “bait patrol.”
One member of the team, usually a woman known as T.S.A.F. or an openly gay man who goes by Zimmer, will intentionally dress like a victim. T.S.A.F. will dress provocatively with an exposed purse or Zimmer will assume another identity of a hilariously offensive gay stereotype. They will then walk the streets of Brooklyn at 3 A.M. hoping to have a run in with a mugger, rapist, or gay basher.
When this violent encounter comes, or so goes the plan as I was unable to confirm if they ever got their wish of being attacked, they signal the rest of the team who are riding a block away on skateboards to come to the rescue.
There are so many problems with this practice it’s upsetting to have to put it in print. First, if the real intent was to deter violent crime, the Superheroes would come out in full regalia, let everyone know they are there, and hopefully make anyone with the thought of committing a violent crime view the neighborhood being patrolled as too hard a target.
Bait patrols are not crime prevention. They are spoiling for a fight.
Whether or not the bait patrol is technically entrapment is up for debate. However, it is certainly violent vigilantism and even more demonstrably stupid.
How long does it take for a team of Superheroes to skateboard a city block? How long can the physically smallest and weakest member of the team, dressed in clothes that intentionally restrict movement and ability to protect oneself from harm, fend off an unknown number of potentially armed attackers without serious injury?
I’d wager the answer to those questions are two different numbers.
It seems purely a side note at this point, but the two common people used as bait are really bad at fighting. Not that any amount of martial skill can guarantee safety in the bait scenario, but what sparring video and open-mat accounts of their training exists indicate that T.S.A.F. and Zimmer are terrible at unarmed violence.
Though, the existence of open-mat accounts show that they’re not above trying to convince themselves that they are fighters for a few hours a week at various gyms.
That is where the worlds of Superheroes, “self defense,” and martial arts cross: the ass kicking fantasy.
Visualizing the physical destruction of generic evil doers to either right wrongs or feel like the world is a safer place is a smooth and sexy feeling. It is a feeling of control: that the hero is the one imposing his will on the situation rather than the bad guy. And, like all control, it is a fantasy.
In my career as a sports writer I have had the privilege of meeting and sometimes training with some of the best athletes on the planet. These people’s skill, physical prowess, and dedication have turned them into something that seems more than a mere human. And all those athletes are killed just as dead by two bullets in the chest and one in the head.
Even the most intelligent and practical means of self protection, which are almost always absent from self defense fantasy, are playing a numbers game. The best methods are all built around avoiding trouble or recognizing and quickly escaping from it. And, if someone takes the most sensible measures to avoid harm, there’s a better than average chance he will lead a safe and happy life, free of violence, until disease or old age eventually kills him.
Or he could be killed by a stray bullet from an incident too far away for him to have possibly observed.
If you are reading this article the odds are that you are alive. This also means that there is a chance, no matter how small, that at any given moment you can die. And so can anyone you know who is also alive.
Playing the odds is the best you can do. And no amount of costumed gallantry used to disguise impotent rage at this fact can change it. Certainly beating up some malnourished crack head feels awfully potent, but in the end there will always be more danger.
A watchful and protective community group is only working if it is deterring violent crime from happening in its neighborhood, not provoking it or trying to physically fight it.

Originally posted: http://uscombatsports.com/index.php?option=com_flexicontent&view=items&cid=241&id=9512&Itemid=336
By: Peter Lampasona     Date: 18 August 2011
Last week, HBO aired a documentary called Superheroes following members of the recent phenomenon of private citizens dressing in costumes to engage in everything from from charity work to vigilante justice. Among the groups featured in the documentary is a make-shift team of Avengers who operate out of the New York boroughs known as the NY Initiative.
Since the release of the documentary, the Real Life Superhero movement has become a hot topic for conversation among both the New York and martial arts communities. So much so that, when asked for a statement by US Combat Sports, a representative of the NY Initiative said that they were currently engaged in a “media blackout” because too many stories are about them and not the issues that they wish to bring to light.
In previous installments of the Problem with Self Defense editorial series, I’ve gone so far as to call everyone who trains in martial arts specifically for the purposes of the increasingly nebulous term “self defense” to be engaging in some degree of delusion. Whether that delusion is harmful or not tends to vary on the situation.
In the context of negatively evaluating delusions of seemingly average people, taking on those who dress up in full costume complete with alternate identity in order to participate in their neighborhood watch seems like dynamite fishing in the local pond.
But, perhaps to the surprise of long time readers, the actions of Real Life Superheroes are not all dangerous or pure fantasy. Those things that are bad ideas are monumentally bad for everyone involved and the natural conclusion of all the silliness attached to “self defense.” For once, though, I’d like to start with the positive.
In this two part article series I will be evaluating both the charitable and crime fighting efforts of Real Life Superheroes, as they seem to be separate and distinct pursuits. For part one, I will look at the charitable.
From what I’ve been able to glean, the majority of Real Life Superheroes spend their time in costume doing humanitarian efforts. This includes charity work, distributing supplies to the homeless, or even acting as a social link for drug addicts through simple conversation. Every example of purely humanitarian efforts, that is those not directly interacting with violent crime, both showcased in the documentary and what I’ve been able to find going on locally, are good things that help the community.
A common response to those positives Real Life Superheroes can have is to point out that none of these good deeds require a costume. But, for some people, they do.
New York City, as evidenced by the fact that 1/3 of all American films are set there, is an important place that sets the tone for the culture of the surrounding area. It’s also got so much going on that paying attention to any of the people or information outside of an individual’s immediate cone of concern can be very overwhelming. As a result, most New Yorkers in the southern part of the state are trained to focus on what’s in front of them and let the rest of the world just walk on by.
Playing long-distance psychological examiner to people you barely know is not as exact a science as most sports writers make it out to be. But, if someone needs to wear costume and become a different person in order to put in the effort to help his community as best as a private citizen can, at least someone’s putting in that effort.
The unfortunate side of Real Life Superheroes is the part that everyone thinks of first when they picture masked vigilantes. The physical act of crime fighting is where the whole practice starts to get insane. It also represents the terminal stop in the logic of the self defense crowd. More on that tomorrow in part two.

I am rushing to the emergency room to meet a real-life superhero called Phoenix Jones, who has fought one crime too many and is currently peeing a lot of blood. Five nights a week, Phoenix dresses in a superhero outfit of his own invention and chases car thieves and breaks up bar fights and changes the tires of stranded strangers. I’ve flown to Seattle to join him on patrol. I landed only a few minutes ago, at midnight on a Friday in early March, and in the arrivals lounge I phoned his friend and spokesman, Peter Tangen, who told me the news.
“Hospital?” I said. “Is he okay?”
“I don’t know,” said Peter. He sounded worried. “The thing you have to remember about Phoenix is that he’s not impervious to pain.” He paused. “You should get a taxi straight from the airport to there.”
At 1 a.m. I arrive at the ER and am led into Phoenix’s room. And there he is: a young and extremely muscular black man lying in bed in a hospital smock, strapped to an IV, tubes attached to his body. Most disconcertingly, he’s wearing a full-face black-and-gold rubber superhero mask.
“Good to meet you!” he hollers enthusiastically through the mouth hole. He gives me the thumbs-up, which makes the IV needle tear his skin slightly. “Ow,” he says.
His 2-year-old son and 4-year-old stepson run fractiously around the room. “Daddy was out fighting bad guys in his super suit, and now he has to wait here,” he tells them. Then he makes me promise to identify neither them nor his girlfriend, to protect his secret identity.
He looks frustrated, hemmed in, fizzing with restless energy. “We break up two or three acts of violence a night,” he says. “Two or three people are being hurt right now, and I’m stuck here. It bothers me.”
By “we” he means his ten-strong Seattle crew, the Rain City Superheroes. A few hours ago, they were patrolling when they saw a guy swinging a baseball bat at another guy outside a bar. “I ran across the street, and he jabbed me in the stomach,” he says, pointing at a spot just below his belly button. “Right under my armor.”
Unfortunately the head of the bat landed exactly where he’d been punched a week earlier by another bar brawler holding a car key in his fist. That attack had burst a hole right through Phoenix’s skin.
“A few hours ago I went to use the bathroom and I started peeing blood,” he says. “A lot of it.”
I glance over at Phoenix’s girlfriend. “There’s no point worrying about it,” she says with a shrug.
Finally the doctor arrives with the test results. “The good news is there’s no serious damage,” he says. “You’re bruised. Rest. It’s very important that you go home and rest. By the way, why do you name a pediatrician as your doctor?” “You’re allowed to stay with your pediatrician until you’re 22,” Phoenix explains.
We both look surprised: This big masked man, six feet one and 205 pounds, is barely out of boyhood.
“Go home and rest,” says the doctor, leaving the room.
Phoenix watches him go. There’s a short silence. “Let’s hit the streets!” he hollers. “My crew is out there somewhere. I’ll get suited up!”
···

Originally posted: http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/hbos-real-life-superheroes-are-gallant-yet-unsettlingly-goofy/2011/08/05/gIQAnjyz0I_story.html

Here they come to save the .?.?. well, that’s the problem with adopting the secret lifestyle and ethical codes of a “real-life superhero”: Nobody requires your services nearly as much as you’re hoping to provide them.Ultimately, as we learn in Michael Barnett’s compelling yet conflicted HBO documentary “Superheroes,” today’s supermen (and the occasional wonder woman) wind up handing out rolls of toilet paper to homeless people.
In “Superheroes,” which airs Monday night, Barnett travels the country to profile a handful of the 300 or so self-styled characters who are attempting to live a comic-book ideal. These are not the people you’ve seen at amusement parks and Comic-Con and along Hollywood Boulevard, who are simply playing dress-up for photo-ops. Something in the comics lore has spoken to real-life superheroes on a personal level, and they are serious — if perhaps a touch delusional. They see society as troubled, and they are especially disenchanted with law enforcement. “The N.Y.P.D., even the government is completely unreliable,” says Lucid, a Brooklyn-based superhero.Mr. Xtreme, a lonely San Diego bach­elor and frustrated jujitsu student, works by day as a security guard and spends his evenings wearing padded green-and-yellow regalia (including a limp polyester cape and a bug-eyed helmet), prowling the streets, searching for a sexual predator the TV news stations have dubbed “the Chula Vista Groper.”Meanwhile, in Orlando, the eccentric Master Legend drives around in a beat-up van and offers his services to the downtrodden, stopping frequently to treat himself to a can of beer from the ice chest he keeps in the back.Back in Brooklyn, Lucid and his more edgy clutch of masked avengers — they go by Z, Zimmer and a heroine named T.S.A.F. (which she says stands for “The Silenced and Forgotten”) — like to skateboard the city’s streets in the wee hours, hoping to attract muggers.Barnett employs an appealing style of comic-book panel animation to enliven the narrative transitions and give viewers a heightened sense of the ad­ven­ture that the heroes imagine themselves having — even if none of their adventures necessarily pan out.
Zimmer, a gay man who chooses not to wear a mask or use a hero name because it reminds him of being in the closet, glams himself up in hopes of luring nighttime gay-bashers. Lucid and the others wait in the shadows to come to his aid. When that doesn’t work, T.S.A.F. dons a miniskirt and lipstick and tries her luck at baiting rapists.
This tendency toward entrapment is where things get creepy, despite the tender care “Superheroes” takes to understand its subjects without mocking them. Many superheroes exhibit depressingly sour feelings about the larger world. They like to keep photos of Kitty Genovese on their walls and refrigerators for inspiration. She was the New York woman stabbed to death 47 years ago as dozens of witnesses overheard (and ignored) her screams. Genovese’s murder set off a popular and lasting notion of an uncaring, indifferent society.
What the superheroes in “Super­heroes” seem to willfully ignore is the remarkable drop in violent crime statistics over the past two decades — to say nothing of the post-Sept. 11 Homeland Security era that lit up our nights with security cameras and deputized every smartphone owner with the ability to upload crimes in progress to YouTube, which has helped catch miscreants of all kinds.
Yet things get darker (and dorkier) during a montage scene in which super­heroes proudly show Barnett the assorted weapons they’ve incorporated into their spandex ensemble: knives, nunchucks, sharp spikes, Tasers, retractable batons, maces, pepper sprays, blinding spotlights and lasers.
They’re all dying for some action, which has a way of making them seem more marginal, and embittered. A San Diego police lieutenant worries that these self-anointed vigilantes are going to hurt themselves (or hurt someone else); a psychologist wonders about their depend­ence on an alter ego.
Although the movie ends on a somewhat brighter note — following the heroes as they look after the homeless in their communities — even Stan Lee, the father of the Marvel Comics universe, expresses bafflement at these wannabes. If Stan Lee thinks you’re extreme, you might want to chill.
Superheroes
(83 minutes) airs Monday at 9 p.m. on HBO.

Originally posted: http://fashionindie.com/10-real-life-superheroes-committing-crimes-against-fashion/5/
Styled by Jessica Lapidos on Wednesday 07.20.11 7:31 PM
And speaking of Voguetron, there are actual superheroes among us. They’ve leapt off the pages of comic books, into the minds of fearless nerds that have re-envisioned their own crime fighting alter-egos. And they’re actually fighting crime. I know it’s true because I read about it yesterday in the August issue of GQ. In fact, there more than 200 costumed (and tweeting) vigilantes protecting average citizens from this cruel, cruel world. Meet some of the bravest, and most eccentric, here while they’re all gathered at Comic-Con in a most serious manner.
Phoenix Jones is a badass motherfucker. As the main focus of GQ’s story, it starts off with him in the hospital after being hit with a baseball bat in the same spot beneath his armor that he got punched with a key earlier that week. He was peeing blood. He went out that night again to right more wrongs. The story concludes with him and two sidekicks staring down a pack of armed crack dealers, guns pointed at them ready to shoot. The crack dealers walked away in defeat. Yes. This man is for real. And he protects Seattle. @ThePhoenixJones
Superhero is a trained policeman turned pro-wrestler turned, well, superhero. He once saved a girl from drowning in her car. When the people of Clearwater, FL ask him what they can do in return, he simply responds, “You don’t owe me anything. I’m a superhero!”
Mr. Xtreme has been a volunteer crime-fighter for more than a decade. Coming from a history rife with bullying and gang attacks against him, he decided he must take a stand and protect the innocent. Now, with spiked cuffs, x-game equipment, a bulletproof vest and crazy eyes, he protects the streets of San Diego.
Urban Avenger is Mr. Xtreme’s sidekick. He patrols San Diego covered head to toe, bespectacled green behind a gas mask. He’s bummed that his city doesn’t see as much action as Phoenix Jones, but that leaves him more time to tweet @urban_avenger.
Knight Owl admittedly went a little overboard with the costume, at one point donning a cape. He is a paramedic student by day and a real life superhero by night. @iamknightowl
Samaritan is our very own superhero here in NYC. He is a skilled martial artists and wears military fatigues to accomodate. He is a self-proclaimed peacekeeper and humanitarian that paroles the streets preventing and putting a stop to violent crimes.
Super Gay does exactly what is sounds like he does. He seduces gay-straight men and calls them out on it. Sounds like entrapment Us Weekly. But he does fight tirelessly against homophobia. We should introduce him to Unicorn Man, his new (un)faithful sidekick.
Phantom Zerois more of the bureaucratic type of superhero from North Jersey (typical). He helps people who have been screwed by circumstance by directing them to the proper lawful paper-filing way to solve their problems.
Lunar Veil and her partner Dark Wolf fight crime in Portland, but mostly work to protect animals. They’re trying to shut down a puppy mill now. But then where would we get miniature chiuauamaltipoodinese from? But I will say, steppin’ it up ladies.
Terrifica, though allegedly retired, patrolled the streets of New York City to prevent little drunk ladies from actin’ a ho. She’s been called the anti-cupid for putting a halt to the One Night Stand. Just trying to get these girls a hot meal the next week after a proper phone call is all.
See more real life superheroes in the August issue of GQ.

Originally posted: http://www.komonews.com/seattlepulp/blogs/phoenix-jones/126086459.html
By Jennifer Kuglin Jul 24, 2011
Phoenix posted this note on his Facebook page about Hope 2011:
“Hope 2011 is an event run by Razor Hawk that will be taking place in California. At my request, a news publication that recently featured me provided a majority of the funding for Hope 2011. I assumed I would be able to attend the event and be able to help with the homeless outreach but I am the only superhero that has been banned from this event. I’ve never communicated with Razor Hawk directly, but I’ve heard via a third party that I am too controversial because I confront criminals directly and detain when necessary until the police arrive.
When I first became a superhero I was excited about joining the RLSH community and was quickly disappointed when I was banned before I ever even had a chance to make a post. I was notified by email the reason for my exile from the online community is because I lie about my deeds and there was no proof I was actually fighting crime. I would be fine with that if everyone else on the site had to prove their actions as well, but they are taken at their word. In the past few months through news media sources, guest patrols with other RLSHs, video, Phoenix Cam, and police it has been proven I patrol on a regular basis with a purpose to fight crime and stop acts of violence.  I am offended that I am still ridiculed and put down by this community. I have more documentation and actual crime interventions than any other ‘superhero’ other than Master Legend of course.
I have not participated in the online bashing and gossip that consumes a lot of superhero’s lives. But there has been media publications quoting me saying less than favorable things about certain members of the RLSH and of that I am guilty. Most of the comments I have made come from feelings of resentment that have arisen from being so discriminated against by the community. I have identified myself as a Rain City Superhero Movement member as opposed to an RLSH for three reason: 1, Certain members of the RLSH hacked my FB and deleted it and told me not to use the RLSH term because I was not one. 2, Most of the RLSH I know focus on humanitarian work and crime fighting second. 3, RLSH is a broad term and I wanted something more city specific to what we needed in Seattle.
I have always felt that the most effective outreaches are done in safe environments. I know a RLSH in Seattle who was robbed of his handout food during an outreach. If they would target him, I can only imagine what they do to the people receiving the food after I have left. If I am able to take away the violent offenders in these areas our homeless outreaches will be a lot more effective.
The point of this message is that we are all masked human beings trying to better the environment that we live in, each in our own specific areas of expertise. Hating each other, bickering and slandering, and banning people from events is ridiculous (I will enclose links that support my statements). It just minimizes our effectiveness, corrupts the message, and takes up valuable time that we could be using on the streets. I have tried my best to stay out of this drama but from this point on I am not participating in any way, shape, or form. I think its important to live your message, so here it is, I AM SORRY.
I am sorry if I have said bad things to you directly, I am sorry if I have sad bad things behind your back, I am sorry if you haven’t understood or were offended by my crime fighting methods. But most of all, I am sorry that we had to make this public. I forgive anyone who has said anything bad about me. From here on out all slates are clean as far as I am concerned. We are fighting each other when we should be fighting the evil in this world.”

Originally posted: http://www.pennlive.com/midstate/index.ssf/2011/07/the_keystone_crusaders_aim_to.html
Published: Monday, July 25, 2011, 8:49 AM     Updated: Monday, July 25, 2011, 10:07 AM
By JEFF FRANTZ, The Patriot-News
The Keystone Crusaders clean vandalized buildings in a single bound![/caption]
The walls shake underneath the wail of a skidding train.
A sudden splatter of white paint scatters spiders and “Young Prophecy was here 5/21/06” is blotted out, gone from the history of this place.
The Keystone Crusaders have won!
But there are many foes to vanquish in the Market Street tunnel and across the city, broke and nearly broken.
Harrisburg was great once. With their help, the Crusaders believe it can be great again.
Their next nemesis, a looping whirl of black spray paint, taunts them. An emblem of disregard for decency, it steals the eyes of passing pedestrians. It must be defeated.
The Crusaders go to work beneath a urine yellow floodlight, standing between puddles of uncertain origin. With their own supply of cover paint exhausted, they choose new weapons: industrial cleaner and steel wool.
Commonwealth is the inspired leader. He wears a motorcycle helmet, hand-painted blue and gold, gold lacrosse pads, a blue jump suit and work boots. The letter “C,” framed in a keystone, adorns his chest and blue cape. His utility belts sag, loaded with tools to fight his three mortal enemies: Blight, Hunger and Dr. Despair, the monster behind it all.
Armistice, his youthful and ever-loyal companion, hides his wiry frame in a blue track suit, and a wispy beard shows beneath the purple half-mask, tied from behind like the valorous turtle-ninjas of old.
They fall silent, scrubbing so close their elbows nearly touch. Over 15 minutes, the pitch-black paint fades to speckled gray, but the graffiti will not concede. After one last burst of spray, Armistice steps back.
Next time, he says, we’ll be better armed.
He picks his next target and takes aim. Commonwealth takes his trash bag to collect all the discarded bits littering the pathway of honest citizens: the flavored cigar wrappers, the soda bottles, cigarette butts. It’s only then that Commonwealth notices disaster.
“Armistice,” he calls out. “I forgot my dustpan!”
Chapter 2: Months earlier….
He sits alone sketching what he is to become.
Motocross gear for armor. Kevlar-lined gloves to catch a knife, in case some creep refuses to back away from the good people he will protect. A collapsible steel baton in the utility belt, just in case.
In the margins of the page, he crosses out one name after another.
Pitboard? He won’t have time to explain his name while fighting crime.
Dragonheart? Superhero names are not born from a logo on your wife’s hoodie.
Keystone Crusader? Too long. Maybe if it were a group …
A group!
I want to find a crime-fighting partner, he soon tells his wife.
You should, she replies. Did you think I was going to let you go out there alone?
He starts sketching again, a costume of blue and gold. A crusader cross overlaid with the state seal.
He needs a partner.
He knows the man he must call.

Chapter 3: Birth of a partnership…
He started as a mentor.
Living in a rough Pittsburgh neighborhood — a place where you wouldn’t get shot, but you might get punched — he was doing well. The lessons he learned at the Milton Hershey School had paid off. It is time to pass them on.
He meets a teenager trying to avoid trouble. They share the same nerdy hobbies. He wants to help the boy, several years younger, and soon calls him a friend.
Then the bottom falls out. He looses his retail job the week before Lehman Brothers collapsed. He, his wife and their two children are evicted.
When he had nowhere to turn, the boy — the one originally in need of mentoring — offers help. Come live with me and my mother. Stay as long as you need.
And still he is despondent. No job, no money, no prospects to move forward. His car forever running on fumes. Over and over, the words ring through his head: “Nobody cares!”
After a year, he gets an interview for a job near Harrisburg.
A cop follows him into the store’s parking lot, lights flashing. He cries, explaining to the officer why he can’t afford his registration. His potential boss walks past, taking in the scene. After the cop lets him off, he locks his keys in the car. More tears.
Still, the boss says, “You’re hired.” A landlord doesn’t require a security deposit for his new home. He regains his confidence. He gets promoted. Looking back, with the help of his recent success, he sees all the people that kept saying, “We care!” Those people, he realizes, the ones he ignored, they kept him going. They saved his life.
I have to give back, he says, but so much more than before. He finds the Real Life Superhero website, a community of regular people in capes and masks, just trying to help.
That leads him to the pad of paper and the search for a name.
That, finally, leads him to picking up the phone and calling his younger friend back in Pittsburgh. You’re looking to move anyway, he tells him. You want to save for college. I’ll help you find a job. When the time comes, there are plenty of colleges close by.
Come and help me save the city!
The boy, now 19, agrees. I shall be called Armistice.
Only then, does his new secret identity reveal itself. I am Commonwealth! Together, we are the Keystone Crusaders!

Chapter 4: A plan of attack…
We will fight crime!
We will patrol the city’s neighborhoods, deterring punks and acting as a second set of eyes for the police. If needed, we’ll take down a bad guy ourselves, cuff him with the plastic zip ties in our utility belts.
Except, they thought, maybe we shouldn’t.
The city has police. They’re trained. They’re strong. They have back-up at the ready.
We, the Crusaders decided, are relatively in-shape retail workers. Maybe there’s a better way.
Reading what Real Life Superheroes face in other cities, they saw the grind of squaring off endlessly with ne’er-do-wells and negativity.
That wasn’t the idea at all. Commonwealth wanted people to see that someone wanted their lives to be better. In every way, the Crusaders would shout, “We care!”
So, he decided, we will care.
Pick up the trash. Feed quarters into expiring meters. Scrub the graffiti. Collect the dog crap. Give a homeless man a bottle of water.
We will be the good Samaritan personified! If people see we care, maybe they will care. And if we feed a person in need, and that person doesn’t need to mug someone to afford a meal, haven’t we prevented crime? Yes!
Block-by-block, kind act by kind act, we will retake the city!
Chapter 5: Into the streets…
First they must escape.
A superhero never knows when spying eyes are watching for masked men, ready to reveal a secret identity. They emerge from Commonwealth’s lair just outside the city, unmasked, their costumes hidden under rain coats. Only when they reach an undisclosed parking lot do their faces disappear.
They begin — as they have at least twice a week since March — in the Market Street tunnel.
“Good Morning!” they bellow, warming up their superhero voices to the office workers walking west, and the residents heading east.
How can anyone, Commonwealth asks, feel good about their city if their first sight of it is this cavern of filth?
The battle is joined, and Commonwealth’s three utility belts/fanny packs, come open.
A hand-held vacuum for cigarette butts. “L.A.’s Totally Awesome,” the Dollar Store industrial cleaner they don’t bother diluting. Spray paint bought on clearance. Their real superpower is bargain hunting.
When danger arises, they reach for the original crime fighting tools. Broken glass is no match for Kevlar-lined gloves! No clogged gutter can withstand a steel baton!
After toiling in the tunnel, the Crusaders emerge into daylight.
“Can I get a picture?”
The calls start almost immediately, and the Crusaders do not disappoint their adoring masses.
“Would you mind striking a superhero pose?” Armistice asks the beaming admirer. “Everyone can be a superhero!”
And of course, “Check us out on Facebook!”
The Crusaders strut, trashbags over their shoulder, dragging a cooler of bottled water behind them.
“It’s too late to save this one!” Commonwealth moans, after seeing a car with a parking ticket. But his despair does not last long. With expiring meters lining the streets, there are so many innocent windshields to protect.
At Third and Market, they see a man hunched over at a bus stop, his blackened toenails sticking from swollen bare feet. They swoop in.
“Hey, how you doing,” Commonwealth beckons.
Armistice whips the cooler in front of the man and grabs two bottles of water. “Good to see you again.”
The man nods and picks through the Crusaders’ bag of snacks, passing over the granola bars for a few bags of chips.
Around the corner, they see another homeless man, Francis. He pulls out a small flashlight the Crusaders gave him after severe storms tore through the city in May. After a few jokes and some water, he’s on his way.
We know, Commonwealth says, that some of the homeless people we meet have deeper problems. We know they need more than water and a little food. That’s why we want to start carrying contact information for shelters and mental health organizations. But we also know we might be the only ones to show them any kindness during the day.
Chapter 6: A citizen in distress!
ZZZZZPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!
The plastic cuffs pull shut, and a dangling “Push here for walk signal” sign at Second and Forster is secure. The wind will not claim this victim!
“Are you guys superheroes?”
Hearing the voice, the Crusaders halt their march toward Midtown and spin around.
“My car won’t start,” Shamicca Gentry says. “Do you think you can help me?”
They freeze.
“Well, we don’t know much about cars,” Commonwealth says, “but we’ll take a look.”
I ran out of gas on the way to physical therapy, Gentry says, waving at her Grand Prix sitting next to a fire hydrant. I put gas in, but it still won’t start.
She pops her hood. Commonwealth leans in.
“Here,” he says, “try it.”
The ignition cranks but dies soon after.
“It’s hard to hear with this helmet,” he says, asking her to try again. He leans closer to the coiled metal.
“I actually know what this is!” Commonwealth exclaims. “This used to happen to me when I was homeless and ran out of gas. You flooded your engine.”
You’re going to have to let it sit for a few hours to let the gas settle, he explains. She can’t leave it in front of the hydrant, Armistice says.
Blast! A nearly perfect rescue cannot be foiled so easily.
They spy an open parking spot across Forster, across a mere six lanes of traffic. The light turns green, and they push.
Secure, Gentry gushes thanks as they feed her meter.
The Crusaders set off again. Before they’re gone, Commonwealth turns back:
“You stay safe,” he calls. “We love you dear!”
Chapter 7: The coming battle
Harrisburg needs saviors.
Financial distress looms over every block. Streetlights are out. Sewer drains are blocked. Street cleaning becomes more sporadic with each passing week.
The Crusaders’ nemesis, the plotting Dr. Despair cackles. Once honest citizens are worn down, he will descend into the streets.
But the Crusaders will be ready! As long as people care, the battle still can be won!
They will not be alone.
Already, Vigil has joined them on patrol. She hunted down Commonwealth and Armistice on Facebook, and then appeared, shrouded in purple.
Soon, Gia will join the fight.
Streak will come forward.
And in some secret place, a Norseman is now finishing his costume.
There is much work to be done, and they cannot conquer every foe.
But the righteous people of the city will not be abandoned in this dark hour. So if you look down the street and see these costumed warriors, do not be afraid.
The Keystone Crusaders have come to fight for our victory!

Originally posted: http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/1107/16/smn.01.html
CNN SATURDAY MORNING NEWS
Aired July 16, 2011 – 06:00   ET
THIS IS A RUSH TRANSCRIPT. THIS COPY MAY NOT BE IN ITS FINAL FORM AND MAY BE UPDATED.
T.J. HOLMES, CNN ANCHOR: Good morning. Good morning, everybody. Nice shot there from WPVI this morning.
I want to take you to something else as we look to the song, “Help Somebody.” we are talking about superheroes this morning who are cleaning up the streets of Pennsylvania. They are doing this literally. Take a look here at the Keystone Crusaders. That is what they call themselves. They are dressed up, yes. You don’t know their identities, but these are not vigilantes, or out there fighting crime. No, of course, they don’t have super powers, but they are doing something that some will tell you is pretty super special.
These crusaders are here with me this morning. Let me bring in, Commonwealth, that is him on the left. That is Vigil, sitting in the back. She is not miked up. We won’t be hearing from here, but she still there in support. Then there is Armistice on the right.
Thank you all for being here. And Commonwealth, I will let you start this off. A lot of people are looking at the screen and thinking what in the world are they doing? First of all, tell me the whole idea. What is the point of the Crusaders?
COMMONWEALTH, KEYSTONE CRUSADERS: Well, the point of the Keystone Crusaders is pretty much to inspire goodness out of others by going around and doing good things, like picking up garbage and giving food and water to homeless. Random acts of kindness. Helping anybody out in any way they need it.
HOLMES: Armistice, helping people out? You talk about picking up garbage and handing out food and water. And doing these acts, but also this includes sometimes, maybe just dropping money into a parking meter of somebody whose parking meter has expired?
ARMISTICE, KEYSTONE CRUSADERS: Yes, of course. Commonwealth carries around a roll a big roll of quarters. If we can save someone a $15 ticket with a quarter, then that is a very good thing we can do. That could be rent money or their food money for that week.
HOLMES: Now, Commonwealth, you all could have done this by walking around the streets and doing it in plain clothes. What is with the superhero get up? Why go that route?
COMMONWEALTH: Well, you know, the superhero idea really comes about when a person sees a superhero, they see more than a person. They see an idea. They see something that may inspire them, that in the future, go out and do something good themselves. Not necessarily in a superhero costume, but just to be good people. Children see Spiderman and they know that is initially good. The idea of being a superhero is we can inspire goodness in others.
HOLMES: Now, Armistice, I have to say, and tell our viewers, you all take this quite seriously, at least the part about keeping your identity hidden. There is no way I can get you to lift up that mask this morning, is there?
ARMISTICE: No way.
(LAUGHTER)
COMMONWEALTH: It is not that we feel any real need to, it is more on principle. If you see someone that you don’t know who they are doing this, it could be anyone. If it could be anyone, there is no reason why it couldn’t be you.
HOLMES: What is the-Commonwealth-I guess, what is the idea here? It sounds like you are trying to inspire children with some of the get up and what they see. And you say, like Armistice just said. If you don’t know who it is, it could be anybody. That could be you. How far do you want to take this thing and keep it going?
COMMONWEALTH: You know, believe me, one day I would love to retire the helmet and cape. But as long as the city needs us; as long as the people feel like they need somebody out there to help them. That is how long we want to keep going. As I say, until our legs give out. This is something we feel our City of Harrisburg needs, and-just the people, itself, they need it. You can see it in their faces. Since from when we began to now, their attitudes have completely changed.
HOLMES: Armistice, it is important to note here, and people might be wondering, when do you do this? You all do have day jobs.
ARMISTICE: We do it whenever we find free time that we can put together. The Commonwealth is a retail manager. I work in retail. We always just have to organize our schedules together.
HOLMES: Are you recruiting?
ARMISTICE: Anyone who really wants to help out. Vigil, here, has only been out with us twice now. She is the latest person to join. There are some more people are getting ready. Anyone who wants to join us, why not? You do not need to be wearing a costume to be a good person, is that what you want to do?
HOLMES: And the last thing here to you, Commonwealth. You went through some struggles of your own. You are out helping the homeless now and doing what you can. You had struggles of your own. You probably wished a superhero would come along and help you out?
COMMONWEALTH: You know what I had my own personal superheroes; people in my life that just gave very generously without asking anything in return. They did not wear costumes, they were just genuinely good people. They are part of the inspiration for this. Their amount of generosity for no reason at all, they gained no benefit from helping me. You know, through their help, I was able to get out of what I was in, and find myself-you know, now I’m a superhero. I’m going out and paying it forward.
HOLMES: Guys, thank you so much for being here. This story got a lot of our attention. At first, when we see the outfits and people jump to a conclusion. But once you dig into it and hear the story and hear why you are doing it. It really is a cool thing you are doing. Maybe, really, it will inspire some folks whether they are in superhero costumes or not. Thank you all so much for taking the time. Keep doing what you are doing. We will see you down the road.
ARMISTICE: Thank you.
HOLMES: All right. We are getting up on the top of the hour here. I’m going to run and put on my superhero outfit. I’ll have that for you right after the break.