On the bright and sunny afternoon of June 6th, 2005, Kenny embarked on a mysterious journey that until this day, nobody knows (almost) anything about.
Where did he go?
Why?
We do know his method of travel was the personal Electro-copter The Hawthorne Bomber built.
One day at headquarters, I saw him eyeballing the gadget and studying the switches and buttons in the gear room.
About a week later, I walked in on him trying it on and taking some more mental notes.
"Where you goin, Ken?" I asked him, sipping my coffee.
No reply, as usual.
"Well you better ask the Bomber before you take off on his machine." I told him. He took the equipment off his back, gave it one last look and headed out the door.
I know he understands machinery and how contraptions like these work. He's a really smart guy. I bet he was calculating distances and power availability. Or trouble-shooting any potential mechanical problems he may encounter if he were to take it out for a spin.
That night I was watching a movie with my nephews and I told them I suspected Kenny was planning on taking off somewhere.
Secretly, I was a little worried he might not ever come back.
The next morning, my nephews told their friends what I told them about Kenny. And they told their friends. And they told their friends.
And word spread like wild fire.
That afternoon the RCC was called over to Kenny's Gardens (a fan-proclaimed location where they believe Kenny resides) in Washington Park to check up on an unusually large gathering of people.
The crowd was peaceful. In fact you might even say they were quite jovial.
As soon as we arrived, they cheered and roared (I would guess there were around 5,000 folks present) and immediately began a chant that went something like this "KEN-NY!, KEN-NY!".
There were home-made signs, balloons, decorations, concession stands (with copious amounts of Kenny merchandise, of course), news teams, and a marching band.
We all looked at each other and shrugged.
"Good luck Kenny?" Captain Burnside said as he read a sign, turning his head towards the Hawthorne Bomber with a clueless look on his face.
I had an idea.
And here came Kenny. Right out of the woods, equipped only with the Bomber's copter on his back and an old canteen. The people went nuts and immediately swarmed him. I guess it was good that we showed up because we ended up forming a baracade around him as he proudly walked through the hoards of people, peering up towards the sky.
"Where'd he get that?" The Bomber asked no one in particular.
"Hey, you bring that back in one piece, Ken!" he said to Kenny as he walked past us.
Kenny stopped, turned around, and looked down to click his belt buckle together.
"Where the heck's he going, Bill?" the Gresham kid asked me. I could barely hear what he said on account of all the people screaming in my ear.
"I have no idea, son".
Kenny turned a knob and flipped three switches. The copter's blades swiftly began their revolutions, quickly gaining speed. A pleasant, yet profound whirring noise could barely be heard amongst the cheers.
Looking up, he gripped the copter's handlebars, and gave me a toothy smile.
With a gentle squeeze of the throttle, up he went.
The crowd's cheers reached their peak forcing me to cover my ears.
He rose up to about 150 feet, and after hovering around directly above us for about 10 seconds, he ventured east.
We didnt bother to follow him. His business was his business and we had a busy day.
The marching band began its rendition of "We Are The Champions" and the crowd noise downsized from a roaring, collective farewell cheer to a energized, contemplative buzz (with the exception of a few singing along with the band).
The party continued on throughout the day.
Thats the effect this silly creature has on his city. He's done a lot of great things for us. He's saved a lot of people. He's made a lot of children laugh and smile. And they all wanted to return the favor anyway they could.
Im sure it crossed a lot of their minds that he wasnt coming back.
In the duration of his absence, a lot had happened.
We won a few battles. And we lost a few.
The Mad Brain unveiled his latest monster "Ken Turbo", a lackluster robotic "Kenny clone" that August. It proceeded to nab a few dollars from some banks and scared some people. Mad Brain had hopes of duping the public into thinking that not only was Kenny back, but that he had turned "evil" at some point during his travels.
I get the sense that the public wasnt fooled whatsoever, the way that clone looked.
That October, we met up with Ken Turbo while he was trying to knock over a jewelry store in downtown. I sent him back to his lair with an empty sack and a busted face.
More on Ken Turbo (or "Mashrik the Miserable", as I like to call him) later.
On the morning of January 23rd, 2006, I walked into the gear room to grab a socket wrench. Sitting there right where it belongs, as if it had never been removed, was the Bomber's Electro-coptor. Aside from a few minor scuffs and scratches, it looked to be in great shape.
My heart felt a little shudder.
Knowing he was back brought a great feeling back into my old bones.
We had been noticibly short-handed for the last 7 months and we were all pretty tired at that point.
I bet if he had the know-how, Kenny would have left a simple little note taped to the coptor that read something like "Thanks, Bomber."
I smiled, grabbed my wrench, turned off the light and headed to the garage.
That evening, we got a call to corral some unruly fashion bots over in the Pearl District. While en route about three blocks away, we heard Kenny's familiar prism-beam going off and saw the brilliant color flashes lighting-up the cold, dark sky.
As we rounded the corner, there he was zapping his last of the fashion bots.
I noticed something was different about him. Before I could put it together-
"Wow, nice shorts, Ken!" The Gresham Kid shouted. "Where'd you get those?"
I smiled and went over and gave him a big hug. I looked him over, gave him a superhero-calibur slap on his shoulder and said with a huge grin
"Good to have you back, big fella!"
-BB