“Urrrrraaaarrrrg,” Nuklear Man said like a creature recently risen from the dead. “Stupid air conditioning. Nukie will…um.”
His voice trailed off when he noticed it echoing among the cave walls “…Smash you?”
More echo.
“I don’t recall it being quite so roomy when they escorted me in here. Also, it wasn’t a cave.” To the left, darkness and a slight downward incline. To the right, more darkness and a slight upward incline. In front of him, some more darkness and really neat stone pillars growing up from the cavern’s floor. Above, only darkness and presumably a ceiling too far away to see. “Come to think of it, I’m almost sure it was a lot smaller in here. And a jail. Boy, those civil workers sure can get a job done quick and quiet. I can’t believe I slept through all the construction a job like this must’ve taken.”
He began walking down the incline. He picked up a few loose stones and hurled one into the cave’s depths. He waited for echoes that never came. “Sheesh, when I said the cell was awfully small for my huge muscles, I didn’t mean they had to do all this.” He paused to examine his Nuklear Physique. “But I think they got the scale right. A place this big is just about big enough for my might. Give or take some mightiness.”
Nuklear Man prepared to toss his last stone when another gust of wind issued from the cave ahead of him. The air was rank and heavy, like the breath of the Earth itself. It rang with a deep resonance that shook the massive cave only slightly.
“Seriously. Someone needs to fix that air conditioner.” He sniffed at the air. “Smells like something’s burning. One of the belts musta come loose.”
He could feel it in the cave walls and floor first, and then in his very bones before the voice was actually audible. “Son.” It echoed from every direction. “Son, listen to me.”
“Kinda hard not to, Dad,” the Hero said while trying to shake the ringing from his ears.
“You are my vengeance.”
“Really?” The Golden Guardian flexed a couple times. “Yeah, living vengeance! Cool.”
“They are mad. Yes, truly mad.”
“Yeah, they seemed pretty upset.”
“We all have our destined roll to play. But you, you, my son are outside their destiny. You will bring a new fate crashing down on them. Their doom will be forged in the flames of your heritage.”
“Sure. Who we talkin’ about anyway?”
“Oh, to see the looks on their smug faces. So sure, so very sure. Such arrogant certainty in the unyielding future.” The voice twisted into a bitter roar of laughter that made the cave tremble. Pebbles of varying sizes rained from the great stone pillars surrounding Nuklear Man. The laughter grew in intensity and the Hero could make out two faint lights floating above him almost beyond the range of his Nuklear Sight.
“You know what I was just thinking? I was just thinking that maybe you’re not real and I’m not really here because here isn’t really real either because you’re scaring me. Maybe instead, maybe you’re just some kind of personification of my ego ‘cause you’re really loud and maybe this cave is supposed to be like my brain ‘cause Sparky is always saying how cavernous it is. That’s what I think.”
The laugh shattered into a scream. Nuklear Man felt certain it would tear the cave to pieces.
“Or not,” he said meekly.
The massive stalagmite columns grew cracks as huge shards of stone plummeted from beyond the invisible heights and into the ground. All the crashing and echoing sounded like a machine gun going off in Nuklear Man’s head. The distant lights flared just bright and long enough for him to discern them as the eyes of an impossibly distant and huge face, weary and worn, twisted in agony.
“Wow,” Nuklear Man said. “You’re really tall.”
The lights dimmed as the scream faded. Nuklear Man could feel it ringing in the very cavern walls. Darkness permeated the cave’s depths once more. The wind returned but without its former strength. It was rasping and heavy with the stench of burnt flesh. The voice too was strained. “Leave me,” it said bitterly.
“Sure. But I don’t know how.” A final boulder fell from directly above the Hero. “Wah!” he exclaimed while collapsing onto the cool floor of his temporary holding cell. “Whew. It was just a dream.” He wiped his brow and in so doing crushed a rock that had been in his hand the whole time.
Its pebbly crumbs fell down his face and horror struck him like a sniper’s bullet. “Or was it?! Ahhhhhh!”
__________
Issue 40 – The Reign of Superion
Tuesday morning.
Atomik Lad awoke with a stretch and a yawn. His Danger: Clock clicked over to 11:23. “Eh, close enough.” Minutes later, the ex-sidekick shuffled into the Danger: Kitchen where Katkat was already attacking his morning meal of Kit-N-Chow. Which was odd since the Kit-N-Chow was kept in a Kit-N-Proof sealed container on the top shelf of the Danger: Pantry.
“Musta forgotten to put it away before going to bed.” He put some frozen Danger: Waffles into the Danger: Toaster and sat down at the Danger: Table to read the Danger: Paper.
No, it was just the paper. Nuklear Man was in jail so there was no one to sneak around at five in the morning to put a Danger: Label on it. “Grah,” he said to the realization.
__________
A few more minutes later, Atomik Lad was enjoying his Danger: Waffles at the Danger: Kitchen Table while perusing what was now the Danger: Paper. He had to nudge the Danger: Label Maker over a tad to set down his Danger: Glass of OJ. Most of the front page was dedicated to the trial. There were editorials, a summary of events, interviews with members of the jury, an artist’s rendering of a smoking crater that was supposed to be the ruins of Dr. Menace’s warehouse, and pictures taken of the areas most heavily damaged by the encounter with Crushtacean. He didn’t read any of it; he’d seen enough of that side of the injustice against Nuklear Man to last him a lifetime. In his search for the comics page, Atomik Lad came across an entire section of the paper dedicated to the faceless victims of “so-called” Heroes, specifically “Philanthropist, Entrepreneur, Inventor: Dr. Veronica Menace.”
“Y’know,” he told Katkat. “They didn’t so much as ask us about our side of this. They could’ve at least called to see what we thought of the verdict.”
Completely by coincidence, and having no actual importance by said coincidence, the Danger: Phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Sparky.”
“Rachel! What’s up?”
“Just calling to check on you boys.”
“Thanks, we’re fine. I could probably use a shower though.”
“Need some help?”
“…Whimper.”
“Did you just say—”
“Um, so shouldn’t you be at work by now?”
“I should be, but I called in sick. “Right now let’s worry about getting Nuklear Man out of jail before the city’s criminal elements take advantage of his absence.”
“Hm. I’d been concentrating so much on the injustices shoved down our throats lately that I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
__________
Meanwhile, heady with the drunken fervor of Evil that accompanies the disposal of a Heroic figure, Dr. Grammar and Dr. Calculus made a right turn at a red light without first coming to a complete stop. “Caveat Anarchium!” they yelled with hedonistic abandon, though not so loudly as to disturb passersby.
__________
The Danger: Call Waiting beeped. “Argh. Hang on, the city might be in peril or something.”
“No problem.”
“I hate these things.” He clicked over. “Hello?”
“Hello, Atomik Lad?”
“That’s me.”
“This is Incompetent Bureaucrat.”
“The mayor? Really?”
“Yes. I was hoping we could have you down at City Hall later this afternoon for a press conference concerning last night’s trial.”
“Definitely. I’m there, what time?”
“We can do it in about an hour if you’re ready.”
“Great. I’ll be there.”
“Terrific. See you then.”
The ex-sidekick clicked back over. “Still there?”
“Oh, you know me. Typical passive female love interest just sitting around waiting for her strong Anglo male to come back from his mythic adventuring and sweep her away.”
“Um…?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. I’m afraid I can’t say the same for Onitenma, the evil stupid cheating boss of Samurai Swordplay.”
“Good work. That was the mayor on the other line. He wants me to be in a press conference about the trial in one hour.”
“Great! Hop to it, boy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You sure you don’t need help with that shower?”
“Good gravy.”
__________
A little over an hour later, Atomik Lad sat with a panel of the city’s remaining heroes at City Hall. Mighty Metallic Magno Man, Angus, Shiro, and Atomik Lad sat on one side of the podium while the Minimum Wage Warriors sat on the other. The room was filled with journalists and their murmuring.
The ex-sidekick leaned closer to Norman. “Did they tell you what we’re supposed to be talking about?”
“Not really,” he said. “But the mayor contacted each of us personally and he said this had to do with the trial.”
“I guess it’s finally our turn to tell our side of the story.”
Atomik Lad looked at the crowd and had the sneaking suspicion that they all pretty much looked alike. Not clones so much as unimaginative variations on an already bland theme.
Incompetent Bureaucrat waddled out from the curtains behind the panel of heroes and stepped up to the podium. Up close, Atomik Lad had a wonderful view of the mayor’s pale, pasty, fish-like complexion and his general chubbiness of wealth. The well-trained news people silenced their banter and prepared to take notes.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, to whom I shamelessly pander with political nonsense, meaningless double talk, and the adoption of positions on important issues that are so middle-of-the-road as to be utterly powerless to effect any positive change but guarantee me re-elections because no one was offended by my positions because they were basically nonexistent in the first place, I have called this conference in order to address a terrible travesty that has been perpetrated against one of our most famous citizens, and well, gosh, all of us by extension.”
“I think you might’ve been right, Sparky,” Norman whispered.
“That’s why our guest of honor is here today,” the mayor said. Atomik Lad prepared to stand up. “Dr. Menace!”
“Guh!” Atomik Lad sputtered.
Incompetent continued, “According to this morning’s poll, to which I must yield because it represents popular opinion, the people of Metroville sympathize with her for having to endure endless persecution and humiliation at the hands of he who may very well be the greatest oppressor of human rights in this or any century, Nuklear Man.”
The Venomous Villainess appeared from the same curtains Incompetent had, pushed him out of her way, and took the podium. “That iz enough out of you, znivelling worm,” she told the mayor. “Now then,” she said to the gathered press. “Even though juzitce haz been zerved againzt that Nuklear Pinhead, I do not think that iz enough action to take againzt the heroic community az a whole.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” Norman said.
“Hai,” Shiro said. “Dragon women was of fire to be breathing upon village peoples. Large in fearness.”
“Why don’t ye talk some sense for a change!”
“Whhhhhisakey!”
“Ooh! That’s me kind o’ sense.”
“That iz why I propoze to prohibit any further activity from theze so-called ‘heroez’ so that we may be allowed to finally lead normal livez. The mayor haz already passed legizlation that will make any heroic act illegal.”
Mighty Metallic Magno Man and Angus had to hold Atomik Lad down. “What!” he yelled. “You can’t do that! We’re protecting the city against psychos like you!”
“Oh, I think not, my dear Atomik Lad. I thought one of you maniacz would bring up that point so I took the liberty of making thiz graph. Chim-Chim?” A pale zombie monkey pushing a large and easy to read bar graph shambled from behind Dr. Menace.
“Chim-Chim!” Norman blurt while Atomik Lad, Angus, and Shiro held him down. “Menace, you’ll pay for this!”
“Funny that you should mention ‘pay,’ my Nazcently Naïve Nubian Knight.”
“Wow, that was pretty good.”
“Yez, I have been saving it for juzt the right occasion. Az I was saying, thiz graph showz the amount of damagez cauzed to the beautiful city of Metroville by the recklezz and irrezponzible behavior of theze self styled heroez.” She pointed to a red bar that rose quite high, well over the billion dollar mark. “Compare that to the bar which shows the amount of damagez cauzed by villainz.” A blue bar rose imperceptibly to the thirty five cent mark. “I had an overdue library book one time,” she admitted, eliciting chuckles from the audience.
“Hold it!” Atomik Lad protested. “That graph is misleading.”
“Factz do not lie.”
“No, but people do. What you forgot to mention is that the damage you allege to be the fault of us heroes wouldn’t even be an issue if you villains weren’t constantly trying to take over or destroy the city. Your line is so low because we’ve always managed to stop you before your plans succeed.”
“So sayz you. All I know iz that theze damagez were not cauzed until one of you moronz arrived on the zcene utterly ruining my brilliantly nefariouz scheme! Ahem. It might have been pozzible to change my mind on thiz matter, but I do not see a handy graph illuztrating your point, therefore I shall not lizten to you.”
“Shut up and let her talk!” a journalist barked.
“Yeah! Way to graph, No-graph!” the unbiased press heckled.
“What is wrong with you people?! She’s a villain!” Atomik Lad said.
No reaction.
“She tried to dislodge Antarctica last year and float it into tropical waters so it would melt and flood Metroville while simultaneously driving the price of ice cubes through the roof thus making her a multi-millionaire thanks to an investment in a Warehouse O’ Ice that was located safely inland.”
Still nothing.
“She threatened every one of your lives! And she would’ve made good on that threat if not for Nuke, Norman, and me bustin’ in on her headquarters.”
“At an approximate cozt of seventy thouzand dollarz I might add.”
“And how much would it have cost had you melted Antarctica?”
“The queztion iz non sequitur since Metroville would no longer exizt and would therefore be exempt from payment of any damagez cauzed.”
“She’s got a point,” a random journalist near the front said.
“No she doesn’t! Okay, fine. What about the impact on the environment? What would the ecological cost be?”
“That would be impozzible to calculate with current data, therefore the point iz moot.”
Atomik Lad sat down, exasperated.
“Of courze, if I had some funding, say from some part of the federal or local governmentz, then I could conduct a very thorough study of exactly what impactz such a brilliant act of villainy would have upon the globe and all of itz pathetic vermin citizenz who would bow down before me.”
“Look at her!” Atomik Lad pointed furiously as he yelled. “She’s trying to do it again! Using city funds! She’s pure evil!”
The ex-sidekick was booed into submission.
“Take it easy, Sparky,” Norman said. “We’ll get through this. We always do. Nuke’ll be outta jail before you know it and we’ll put Menace behind bars. You’ll see.”
“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Now, I am the firz
t to admit that the city iz plagued by a few mizguided ne’er-do-wellz and that they muzt be punished,” Menace continued. “Az such, I further propoze the inztallment of a new Hero to replaze our previouz batch.”
“But,” the mayor spoke up as if on cue. “Could any one hero be able to effectively combat all of Metroville’s villainous elements and still be cost-effective to Mr. and Mrs. Taxpayer?”
“Mozt Certainly. Chim-Chim?”
“Chim-Chim!” Norman cried once more. “Menace, you’ll pay for what you’ve done!” he again threatened while restrained by his comrades.
Chim-Chim pushed a huge glass cylinder out of the curtains. Inside it was an impenetrable cloud of sickly green something with a darker, sicker, greener blob roughly the shape of a man in the center.
Menace smiled. “Ladiez and gentlemen of the prezz, I give you Metroville’z newezt Hero!” She pushed a button near the cylinder’s base. Servo motors whirred and the audience gasped with anticipation. A line appeared straight down the middle of the cylinder. The two halves separated and a green haze emanated from the breach. A silvery boot stepped out and was soon accompanied by another. The cameras were already flashing as the emerald smoke seemed to magically whisk itself away to reveal a tall, well-built man with short, curly black hair. He was dressed in a mostly red and white outfit with a silver cape and matching boots. A large, and very stylish, blue ‘S’ inside an equally stylish white star adorned his muscular chest. His brown eyes shone with a mischievous quality that only added to the impact of his boyishly innocent yet confident smile. He was a rogue with a heart of gold. He was painted from every romance novel cover and dressed up in spandex.
“Superion!” he announced. “The Crimson Crusader, the Defender of the Downtrodden, the Aegis Against Evil. In short: The way of the future.” He posed, but without the arrogance or gross effort that seemed to slop all over Nuklear Man when he posed. And somehow, this subtlety made Superion’s pose all the more potent. With a smile that told you he was your best friend and a wink that told you he was that favorite uncle who would take you out for ice cream instead of dinner when babysitting you as a child, he instantly wooed the audience. The women swooned and the men wanted to invite him over to watch whatever Big Game was playing that week.
Nuklear Age Page 42