Other People's Heroes (The Heroes of Siegel City) (19 page)
Read Other People's Heroes (The Heroes of Siegel City) Online
Authors: Blake M. Petit
They had already replayed First Light’s holographic recreation of Deep Six’s... termination. No one was saying a word, but the looks on people’s faces spoke volumes. This was a crowd that wanted blood.
Flambeaux got up and testified in a voice cold enough to re-freeze Icebergg, and Doc Noble and Hotshot each made statements about the rumble in Kirby Square. Once everybody who had something to say had done so, Morrie took the podium. “Well, Icebergg? Anything to say in your defense?”
Icebergg grinned. “Yeah. I got something.”
“Well? This is your only chance. Spill it.”
The grin just got bigger. “You make me wanna vomit.”
“Fine. Mental Maid?”
She stepped up to the podium, robes swirling around her, and turned to stare Icebergg straight in the eyes.
“What happens now?” I whispered to Ted.
“Mental Maid holds judgement. If she finds him innocent, he’s let free and life goes back to normal. If he’s guilty... punishment.”
“Has anyone... any
rabbit
ever been found innocent?”
Ted covered his face. “No. I don’t want to see this.”
“See
what
? Ted, what’s the punishment?”
“The Soul Ray.”
The Soul Ray, I later learned after already having seen it in action, was Mental Maid’s strongest power. The Ray totally obliterated a person’s physical form, vaporizing their body and reducing the matter that comprised it to dust.
It then took their emotional essence, what a person really
was
in the bottom of their soul, and gave
that
physicality. Someone who is inherently good will become strong and handsome and a wonder to behold. Someone with an evil heart will become a monster. Once someone hit by a Soul Ray morphed into a giant insect. Another literally became a snake. If the Soul Ray hit you, you became what you always really
were
, effectively making it perfectly safe to judge a book by its cover.
That’s what I found out
later.
What I
saw
was
this
:
Icebergg was taken before Mental Maid. Both stood there without a trace of human feeling.
A beam of the purest white light I’d ever seen poured from Mental Maid’s hand, bathing Icebergg.
The light stopped.
Where Icebergg had been was a screaming, agonized, humanoid mass of fire.
“Makes sense,” Ted said, finding the nerve to uncover his eyes. “Icebergg was always one of the angriest people I knew.”
“What did they
do
to him?” I gulped.
“Reduced him to who he was.”
“What happens now?”
“He gets exiled. We’ve got an arrangement with this space federation, they’ll take him to an intergalactic penal colony.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Does anyone around here ever listen to himself talk?”
Judgement passed, Particle and Justice Giant escorted the smoldering mess that was once Icebergg from the chamber. The assembly broke apart and went about their business, no doubt trying to forget the whole damned affair had ever happened.
Not that
everyone
could forget... Flambeaux and the Spectacle Six -- or Five
,
I supposed -- each walked around with looks on their faces that betrayed the deep wound each carried that otherwise would not show.
I took a deep, strengthening breath. “Well, I guess it’s time to face the music.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve got to see Morrie, Ted.”
The Conductor recoiled and I heard a bugle dirge stir within me. “Taps,” to be specific.
“Your vote of confidence is staggering,” I said.
“That’s how
you
feel, buddy.”
I moved up through the dispersing throng until I got to the big boss. “Hey, Morrie.”
“Oh yeah. Corwood.”
“Not to sound pushy or anything, but... have
I
got a verdict yet?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I suppose I do. Yer trouble, kid. You’ve only been on two ops and you’ve given me more headaches than some of these guys have in ten years.”
I gulped and nodded, unable to meet his gaze. Behind him, though, I could see Mental Maid’s eyes glowing and I began thinking,
This is it, this is when she blows the whistle. It’s the Soul Ray and the penal colony for me.
“But yer also good,” Morrie said. “Damn good. And Morrie Abadie ain’t the type to cut off his nose to spite his face. Thing is, I can’t have an ulcer worryin’ about which powers yer gonna use every time you leave the Tower!”
“What are you getting at?”
“Come back Tuesday, like you were gonna do anyway. We’ll fit you for a new costume then.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “What character this time?”
“I dunno yet. I’ll have the boys work something up this weekend.”
My eyes lit and my heart jumped into my throat. “You mean--”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m givin’ you yer own character. But don’t go gettin’ a big head about it. Yer still gonna be a Mask -- I don’t know if you got the stage presence to be a Cape yet. But I’ll see to it you got a character that can ape anybody else’s powers. If for no other reason than to cut down my expenses on antacid. Now go. Have a good weekend. And don’t let me have to see yer mug again before Tuesday or I might just change my mind.”
I left.
Fast.
INTRUDER
I practically tap-danced all the way home that night -- anybody watching would have presumed Gene Kelly was a Cape and I had found a way to duplicate his powers.
My own character
, I kept thinking, over and over.
Me
. It was like getting three BARs on a slot machine: Jackpot! I was still concerned about Annie -- the way the good Doctor browbeat her bordered on the criminal -- but I also knew that with my own character as an excuse to hang around Simon Tower I’d have plenty of opportunities to talk to her, hang around and, hopefully, break her away from that smarmy piece of filth.
It was a little after eleven o’clock when I got home. As I turned the key I felt the lock click shut. My first thought was,
Darn it, forgot to lock the door again.
My second thought was,
I
never
forget to lock the door.
I quickly opened it into an already-lit apartment. In the front room, which consisted of a kitchenette and a living area, I saw David Letterman chattering away on my television and a plate with crumbs and a puddle of ketchup sitting on the counter. I knew I hadn’t done it. For one thing, I’d washed all the dishes before I left and, for another thing, I watched Conan.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” I asked my unseen visitor. I headed down the short hall to the back. The door to my bedroom was closed, but the bathroom was open and I heard the telltale hiss of a toilet running. I ducked in and jiggled the handle and the gasping noise stopped.
“Damned inconsiderate intruders,” I muttered, heading for the bedroom door. In retrospect it was probably a stupid move, barging in like that. A typical burglar wouldn’t have had any powers for me to duplicate and he more than likely would have had a gun. I didn’t have any special training, I wasn’t Nightshadow. I could have been killed. All things considered, I should have been
relieved
when I opened that door without meeting up with some crook. Instead, I was furious to find Sheila Reynolds, sitting on my bed, flipping through my notebook.
“What the hell is
this
?” she asked, fanning the pages.
“
That
? What the hell is
this
?”
“Is what you’ve written here true?”
“You broke into my apartment!”
“And why did you draw little curlicues around the name ‘Sindy’ every time?”
“What the hell are you
doing
here?”
“And why are you misspelling ‘Cindy’ all of a sudden?”
“Have you
no
regard for anyone else’s privacy?”
We both stood there in infuriated silence for a long moment.
“I think you owe me an explanation!” we shouted in concert.
“It’s
my
apartment!” I said. “You first!”
She dropped the notebook on the bed. “I came because I’ve been
worried
about you, Josh. Something just hasn’t been right with you lately. Now I think I know what. Is the stuff you wrote in there true? Is the whole Cape scene in this entire city a
front?
”
“Of course not!” I sputtered. “I mean... I’ve been writing that stuff because I thought it would be
funny
... maybe for an April Fool’s edition. I mean, heh, Nightshadow as a disco freak? A female Five-Share? And who’s gonna believe Doctor Noble is a jackass?”
“When you interviewed him last month the first thing you told me is that he
was
a jackass.”
“I was delusional. I’d been hit by the Gunk.”
“You mean the guy who makes Mensa members look like Sesame Street rejects?”
“Now you’re making things up.”
She picked up the notebook and flipped it open. “‘And the Gunk, previously believed to be a practically mindless beast, is actually a scholar who makes Mensa members look like Sesame Street rejects’,” she recited.
“I’m awful with a metaphor, you know that.”
“Why are you sitting on this, Josh? This could be the biggest story since Watergate! Why haven’t you blown the whistle? Unless...”
“Unless? Unless
what
?”
“Unless you’ve started to buy into the whole thing. That’s it, isn’t it? You
enjoy
playing dress-up and running around with these headcases.”
“It’s not like that--”
“And this Sindy chick -- you’ve got it for her, don’t you?”
“She’s not at
all
like Miss Sinistah, Sheila, that’s just a character.”
She gasped and I slapped my own face, realizing I’d said too much. “Sindy is
Miss Sinistah
? You’re in love with
MISS SINISTAH
?” She let her slick, curious look slip and replaced it with a wry grin. “Okay, Josh, confess, is
everything
about her super-strong?”
“
Now cut that out!”
I snatched the notebook from her hand. “Sheila, you can’t tell
anyone
about this!”
“And why not?”
“Because it’s not what you think. It’s not what
I
thought it was, it’s... it’s something more.”
“
Now
who sounds like the after-school special?” She jammed her finger at the notebook. “And what about all the stuff about using the merchandizing to payroll this? How do you think people will feel when they figure out how they’ve been footing the bill for all this?”
“It’s not that big a deal.”
“Your notebook has
a picture of Spectrum on the cover
!” She turned and tried to dart around me, towards the door, but I pivoted and kicked the knob with my foot, slamming it shut. I think we were both surprised that I managed to do it.
“You’re not leaving until I have your word that you won’t spread this around.”
“Why should I?”
“Because if you don’t I’m gonna... oh God.”
“What?”
I felt the blood draining from my head as my anger subsided. I had come dangerously close to pulling a Doctor Noble.
“Please, Sheila,” I said. “Sit down. Let me talk to you. Let me explain to you why this has to stay a secret.”
She stared at me for a while, without saying anything. “All right,” she said, finally. “But
only
because it’s
you
, Josh.”
“I know, I know, and thank you,” I said. So we sat down and we talked for a very long time. I told her everything. I told her about that first night and how I met Sindy. I told her about the Arena and my first adventure as Shift. I told her about Tom and Icebergg and the Soul Ray. And I told her what happened to Lionheart.
But I didn’t tell her about the Heart of the Lion. I didn’t know why.
When we finally finished talking, it was nearly one o’clock in the morning. My head hurt and I’d run out of coffee, but except for the odd question and her one outburst about me trying to fool the great telepath Mental Maid, Sheila remained annoyingly silent.
“I don’t know,” she finally said.
“Oh come on, Sheila! That
had
to be enough to convince you!”
“I’m sorry, Josh. I can’t make you any promises. I need to think about this.” She stood up to leave, but when her hand touched the doorknob, instead of turning it, she looked back at me.
“Josh?”
“Yes?” I said, anxious to say anything that might make a difference.
“You
were
going to use all that, weren’t you? I mean... you wouldn’t have written it all down otherwise.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I
was
going to use it. So?”
“When did you decide not to?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Hell I don’t know. Part of me decided a long time ago, I think. Another part decided when Hotshot told me what happened to Lionheart. But I didn’t
realize
until I came in and saw you holding that damn notebook.”
She nodded, tight-lipped, and left. I sat up the rest of the night, eyes fluttering, unable to sleep.
A WALK IN THE PARK
I was still awake the next morning when the telephone rang. I picked up the receiver with a groggy, “Sheila?”
“Who’s Sheila?” asked Annie’s voice on the other end.
“She’s nobody!” I shouted, the exhaustion draining from my head. “I mean... just this woman I work with. I was expecting to hear from her.”
“Really?” Annie asked. “Young, voluptuous type?”
“Hairy old bat with a wart on her nose,” I lied. “What’s up?”
“Well I was wondering, if you’re not too busy waiting for a call from
Sheila
--”
“She knows how voice mail works.”
“What would you say to a picnic in Lee Park? You know, to celebrate your impending promotion?”
“I would say, ‘Hello, picnic in Lee Park. It appears God has finally relented and is allowing me a modicum of happiness’.”
She giggled. “That’s an awful lot to say to a
picnic.
”
“It’s a very
literate
picnic. What time?”
“Eleven-thirty, bring some sodas.”
