“It’s just that Lionheart was right all along!” he guffawed.
“About what?” Lionheart asked, and the flash in the Gunk’s eyes scared the hell out of me.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance.”
Condor shimmered suddenly, and his body fell away, revealing Spectrum standing in his place. And his eyes were glowing a bright, nasty orange. The power dampeners on the Gunk’s wrists vanished too, and the flesh on his arms quivered and transformed into long, metal spikes. He leapt forward, swiveling his arms to the front, and charged Lionheart.
The spikes ripped straight through the gold lion emblem on his chest, jutting out his back covered with torn cloth and blood. Lionheart’s head quaked and flopped forwards, his eyes big and blank. Gunk’s lip curled up. “Guess I’ve rectified that mistake.”
“YOU SON OF A--”
I reached out for Gunk, ready to rend him limb from limb, but Lionheart raised his hand and stopped me. A thin trail of blood dripped down from his lip and he raised his head, looking the Gunk straight in the eye. He grabbed the spike in his chest and air began to swirl around them.
“I do not die easily,” he said.
Energy sparked around Lionheart’s wound and sputtered around them both. The Gunk tried to pull himself away, but Lionheart would not let go. Together, they lifted up and shook in the air. Blood trickled from them, but as it rained I saw that the blood was not red at all, but instead an incredible silver that seemed to roll off dry matter and sink away as if to some other place.
It was as though the wind itself was pushing them up, there was so much of it, and the silver energy carried them like a net. They shredded the atmosphere, racing to the sky, until they were nothing more than a couple of dots higher than we would have been able to see if not for the energy dancing about them.
Then there was the explosion.
The silver energy, whatever it was, raced outwards, encompassing everything I could see, touching everyone it could. As soon as the energy made contact with me, I felt a sudden jolt, a connection, the likes of which I’d never felt before or sense. It was a feeling of unity, of oneness that words couldn’t even describe.
It was the Heart of the Lion. And in that instant, every man, woman and child on Earth that possessed the Lion’s Heart, those I knew, those I didn’t, those I knew about and those I never suspected... was One.
I was Lionheart, (and my heart soared) and he had a message for me: Thanks, little guy. I’m proud of you.
I was Hotshot, (and I was sorry) and there was a quick exchange. I/Hotshot said I was sorry, and Lionheart said it was never my fault.
I was Tom, (brave Tom, someday he’d be more of a hero than me, of that I was certain) clutching my/Tom’s sister’s bleeding arm, and Lionheart told me I would do great things someday.
I was Animan, (Animan was one of us? I should have known) slowly regenerating back the Tower and, for the first time, realizing I/Eugene was a part of something greater than myself.
And more... so many more --
-- in Manhattan, a man prepared to run twenty-six miles, wanting nothing more than to bring America an Olympic marathon gold --
-- in Las Vegas a jazz trombonist played a song of love found and lost and the journey to regain it again --
-- in Louisiana a girl, not quite a woman, sat at the edge of a glistening pond, debating whether to dive into the unknown --
-- at a college a drama student was questioned for a murder he didn’t commit--
-- in Idaho a young man learned he had cancer --
-- in a forest somewhere a little old woman stirred a pot of stew, waiting for her sons to return --
-- a child screamed as he saw his bullet-ridden parents hit the ground --
-- a Kansas farmer tilled his soil as a bolt appeared in the sky--
-- a police officer was struck by lightning --
-- a man grit his teeth against a sandstorm--
-- more... hundreds more...thousands... --
-- until finally, in Boston, a woman sat in a darkened apartment, clutching a scrap of colored paper to her breast, crying with a pain I’d never known, and for all her gifts she could not freeze that moment in time, making it last forever.
The energy faded and the light in the sky darkened. Tom, Hotshot and I trembled. Nearby, Spectrum’s eyes were returning to normal. Deep Six and Nightshadow’s flesh turned their natural colors again, and Nightshadow was lying on the ground, naked and cold. Hotshot, clutching his arm, wrapped Nightshadow in his cape, looking like he’d had the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders.
“What was that?” Tin Man asked.
Those of us who knew, and understood, didn’t say a word. Instead, I went to Annie, who leaned on me. I didn’t argue.
“Does that mean it’s over?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think it does.”
And we began to laugh. We laughed long and hard, until the tears came, and I don’t think either of us ever noticed when they changed from tears of hysteria to tears of pain and sorrow and relief.
THE SUMMIT
The smoke was still settling literally and figuratively, when several of us collapsed in the lounge that afternoon. The whole press corps came out in force, and this time the susceptibility field wasn’t going to be enough to keep them at bay. Finally, Morrie gave them a harsh, forceful, “NO COMMENT,” along with a stern mental push to tell them to get the hell away from us. When Morrie’s brain pushed, people listened.
Back in the tower, though, Morrie was all smiles. “Oh, this is just too cool for school, kid. The old Lightcorps, back in action? People are going to eat this up!”
Morrie was talking to Hotshot, who was leading his old teammates around the facility. Animan was there as well, and Annie, cradling her injured arm. It would be a while before Miss Sinistah swung that club of hers around again. We all exchanged looks at each other when Morrie started talking about the Lightcorps – part exhaustion, part frustration.
“Abadie, right?” Oriole said, walking up to him. “Morrie Abadie? The mentalist? I remember you. What are you talking about?”
“I’m talkin’ about you and your crew! I’m talking about you guys signing on with my crew! Come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the rush you got out there today. You want back in the Cape game, right? Well, little lady, I’m the guy that’s gonna make it happen!”
The Defender sheathed his sword, somewhat more forcefully than was strictly necessary. “He’s joking, right?”
“Morrie,” I said, “all this… this whole setup… how much of the charade was you and how much was the Gunk?”
Morrie shrugged. “Look kid, he wasn’t runnin’ my show from the beginning’. He just knew how to use a good thing when he saw it.”
“This can’t stand,” Defender said. He picked up a Lionheart shot glass someone had left on the counter. “We’ve always had power, but… this. This economic power… it’s no good.”
“I’d rather get a mountain dropped on my head,” Tin Man agreed.
“It’s worse than that. It’s not right, it’s not honest. It’s… is this what Lionheart would have done?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said facetiously. “Let’s ask.” I took one of the WWLHD rubber bracelets that lay about in abundance and stretched it back, firing it over to the Defender. He caught it, read it, and dangled it from his fingers like a dead fish.
“This can’t stand,” he repeated. “This obscene organization has to end now.”
“What, so we can go back to throwing masks into a revolving door prison like you guys did back in the old days?” Animan said. “Look, I respect you guys. You’re my heroes. And Morrie may be the bottom-crawling, scum-eating crud of the Earth, no offense.”
“None taken,” Morrie said, using a Lionheart cutter to nip the end off his cigar.
“But whether you approve of his motivation or not, Morrie’s system worked. Siegel City is one of the safest places in the wor
ld. If we get on television and tell everyone it’s fake now…”
“Riots,” Annie whispered. “People would go crazy.”
“Every villain in the country – every real villain – would come here looking for a piece of us,” Hotshot said. “The city would be a warzone.”
I picked up one of the Lionheart action figures, turning it over in my hand, looking my lost hero in the eyes. “People would lose faith.”
“Well right now the entire city is brainwashed!” Condor shouted. “I’d heard things… rumors about what was happening here… but until Jay called us yesterday I had no idea how bad it really was here.”
“And all it takes is one Gunk at the top to bring down the whole system.” The Defender dropped the bracelet in the trash. “Think about the raw power in this building. If we hadn’t stopped him, he would have turned the entire planet against Lionheart, then against the rest of us. Then it would have been his.”
“All right, all right,” Annie said. “We can’t get rid of it and we can’t leave it the way it is. What’s left?”
“We change it,” I said.
Everyone turned to look at me. Tin Man, Defender, Condor, Oriole… waiting for what I had to say. It was just a wee bit intimidating.
“Change it?” Morrie said. “Kid, you been here about five minutes. What makes you think--”
“He’s earned it, Morrie,” Hotshot snapped. “Or maybe you forgot that you’d still be the Gunk’s sock puppet if it wasn’t for Josh.”
“Go ahead, lad,” Tin Man said, a faint Irish brogue echoing in his helmet. “Make your case.”
“We can’t shut things down overnight. People would realize something happened. Even with the susceptibility field, sooner or later someone would notice all the Masks going away at once. But it’s too dangerous to leave things the way they are. Plus, I think we’ve pretty well established this set-up wouldn’t exactly sit well with Lionheart.”
“So what option do we have left?” Annie asked.
“We take our time,” I said. “Next week – after I’ve had time to take the mother of all naps – we announce that the heroes of Siegel City are cracking down. Then, over the next two years, we publically capture every prominent Mask in the city and put them away for good. The revolving door is out of business.”
“Are you nuts, kid?” Morrie asked. “I’m runnin’ a business here. I’ve got merchandise to sell. I’ve got employees to take care of. How many hard-workin’ Masks are gonna be out of a job?”
“They’re not all bad guys, Morrie. In fact, most of them aren’t. So we’ll ‘rehabilitate’ some, we’ll give others a new identity, and in a couple of years, this will be a legit city again.”
“What about my company?” Morrie growled. “We go ‘legit,’ and how do you plan to bankroll all this?”
“Morrie’s not the only concern. Decent people would suffer too,” Hotshot said. “Half of Siegel City’s economy is based on tourists coming to see our heroes and the stuff people buy with our faces on it, Josh.”
“There’s nothin’ wrong with a little capitalism,” Tin Man said. “I see no reason ye can’t keep using the merchandise to fund the operation and pay people’s salaries.”
“Are you serious?” Oriole asked.
Tin Man shrugged through his armor. “Even a Cape has to eat, after all.”
“Actually, I think there are a few around here who don’t,” I said, “but point well made.”
Oriole nodded. “Okay, but there needs to be a public face to the money as well. Something that can be held accountable.”
“A foundation,” I said. “In Lionheart’s name. The fake heroes cleaned this city up. With a little financial muscle, maybe the real heroes can make even more changes… improve the schools, fix the roads… make the city even better. Look, ever since you guys went away, ever since Lionheart went away… things just didn’t seem right. I didn’t know what it was until I found out about Morrie, but it was always that little nagging voice in the back of my head telling me that something in this city was wrong. And everybody else in town feels it too. Let’s get rid of that feeling, guys. Let’s give Siegel City real heroes to believe in again.”
There was a quiet for a few minutes. Everyone was rolling it over in their heads. Finally, it was Hotshot who spoke. “I think… I think Lionheart would be okay with that.”
“You know, once the Capes are real again, the real Masks are gonna come back too,” Morrie rumbled.
“We’ll be ready. Hell, Morrie, don’t you see what you’ve done? You built the biggest superhero team on Earth. We can take all comers. We don’t even have to stop with Siegel City. Once we’re finished this model can change every city. Detroit, Miami, New Orleans… they can all go legit again.”
“You’re taking a big chance, kid,” Morrie said.
“So what? Come on, Morrie, can’t you feel it? This is our chance to finally do what heroes are supposed to do.”
“And what’s that?”
Hotshot laughed and threw an arm over my shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious, Morrie? We’re gonna save the world.”
JOURNEYMEN
Hotshot, Annie and I stood on the roof of Simon Tower, drinking in the sun, both of them with their arms in slings and Annie with a bandage around her shoulder as well. Work was still going on to repair the bottom floor of the tower (not to mention all the levels beneath), but the support structure was fairly secure and the building was in no danger of falling down. There was a slight mist hanging about in the air as if it just finished raining, although the sky had been clear for days, and the light of the sun refracted through the clouds, painting the whole sky as red as a newborn babe.
“Sure you don’t want to stick around?” I asked. “See what happens?”
“I’ll be back,” Hotshot said. “There’s a debt I need to repay first.”
The rebuilding was going to be hell. After we finally rid ourselves of the Gunk I would have been perfectly willing to sleep for a month. Things didn’t quite work out that way.
The first and most visible problem was that half the city had seen the battle -- Capes fighting Capes and Masks fighting Masks and the sides so jumbled nobody knew what was going on. As expected, it was Morrie who came up with the solution. Apparently (the press releases said) the Battle of Simon Tower had actually been a concentrated effort by all Siegel City’s superhumans -- Cape and Mask alike -- to turn back a subversive alien invasion. These were the same aliens from whom Lionheart had escaped only days before, the ones who held him captive for a decade. The beams of blinding white light people saw were actually used to reverse a person’s nature, turning bad people good and good people bad. It was the aliens’ main weapon against us until the LightCorps came out of retirement to drive them off. It was real crappy, B-movie stuff. The public ate it up like candy.
This was undoubtedly due, in no small part, to the susceptibility field, which Morrie reestablished as soon as his head was clear, the pretense of Mental Maid keeping it up abandoned. This made me sort of nervous, but Morrie assured me that with the Gunk gone everyone who had been transformed changed back and everyone whose mind was controlled had their free will restored. Things were back to normal, such as it was. But they wouldn’t be for much longer.
The “war against the aliens” was not without its casualties, of course. A memorial was being erected to First Light, Five-Share and Dr. Noble in Lee Park. It churned my stomach to see the murderer paid tribute alongside his victims, but I understood the necessity of it. Nothing could be gained by telling the citizens what kind of unbelievable bastard they were already beginning to canonize. Let them think he was a martyr.
The real Doc was gone. That was the only part of the whole mess that still ate at me. Sometime between me laying him prone and Lionheart being gutted, Noble woke up and managed to stagger away from the park. We couldn’t find a trace of him, anywhere on Earth, and the fact that there was somewhere he could hide from people with our resources bothered me for a very long
time.
The two surviving Five-Shares had left Siegel City, probably for good, and gone home to their mother. The woman lost four children in a blink of an eye; the two she had left were refusing to put their lives on the line again, for her sake. Nobody blamed them.
The remaining members of the Spectacle Six, now four strong with Deep Six’s return, did not take on any new members right away, even though Morrie urged them to. In memory of the fallen, they would go on and accomplish the fantastic on their own.
Things weren’t all gloom and mourning, though, as those of us touched by the silver power knew something no one else could possibly believe.
Lionheart was alive.
We didn’t know how we knew, but we knew. That blast when Gunk tore through him had expelled almost all of his power, but more than that, it had ripped a hole open to somewhere else. For a second, I even caught a glimpse of it -- a vast field of trees and pools filled with the same sort of silver water I thought fell from him as blood. He was out of there somewhere, weak, helpless and perhaps in grave danger.
But he was alive.
To say Morrie made a big deal out of the LightCorps’ decision to look for him would be a criminal understatement. There were bands and celebrities and the mayor gave each of the “intrepid explorers” keys to the city. Hotshot, the Defender, Condor and Oriole were all making plans to head out and find Lionheart, wherever he was.
The Tin Man, however, was staying behind. He’d elected to head up an all-new LightCorps back in Siegel, consisting of Nightshadow, Mental Maid (who was a lot less mysterious and a lot happier with the Gunk gone), Aquila and the Conductor. There were also two “probationary” members, former Masks who’d been zapped by the aliens and whose reversion to the Cape side seemed to be permanent -- Copycat and Turnabout (formerly known as Miss Sinistah). Together, we announced our plan to clean up the city once and for all. The Battle of Simon Tower had convinced us to tighten security and hit the bad guys like never before. A couple of groups, as would be expected, started calling us Nazis and fascists and insurance agents and the like, but public opinion was on our side – over 85 percent, and that was without Morrie fudging the numbers. We could do this. We could make this work.
Other People's Heroes (The Heroes of Siegel City) Page 31