Not that they told this theory to anyone else. It would show they knew too much, that they willingly ignored the rules to do an unauthorized activity. They listened as people whispered and postulated that the heroes were hunting a high-profile villain, another hero, or even Weston Marsh. It turns out that the actor had vanished halfway through Arbiter’s gala the night before, much to the chagrin of the candidate. Regardless, the fact remained that it was the idle chatter of individuals fighting the fear of the unknown by putting a familiar face on it.
Earlier that day, Ariana had taken Tim to go see her father. Arthur wanted desperately to go with them; even having a destination seemed like a fabulous way to give him direction. Her coldness toward him said that she hadn’t forgiven him for his supposed betrayal or his dangerous stunt with Tim.
He stayed home instead, trying to coax Mollie into describing the events of the night before. Her story was matter-of-fact and simple, owing to her still-evolving emotional capacity. He could tell by her articulate, cold mannerisms, however, that she had been terrified to confront what, to her, must have been the face of death itself. She opted to go to sleep to save battery life, a decision which Arthur couldn’t hold against her, either for the practicality of it or for the pure safety of a controlled oblivion. It was when it became obvious that he was alone that he had ventured to the roof, hoping to get some kind of clarity.
The Enforcers finally rolled to a stop in front of his apartment complex, prompting Arthur to head back downstairs to the first floor lobby. He rounded the final landing and watched the officers entering. Unlike the others he had seen, this group did not have a uniformed hero. Instead, a tall man, with skin a deep shade of espresso, entered at the head of the column. He wore the same armor as the others but bearing the sigil of ‘colonel’ below the Enforcer’s insignia on his sleeve. If Arthur knew his ranks, that was the leader of the Enforcers now moving toward his landlord, Dave.
The two spoke in hushed tones after the initial handshake. Dave was clearly agitated, while the colonel appeared nothing less than calm and authoritative. After a moment of talking, the landlord nodded his head and motioned the Enforcer into his office. As he disappeared, the colonel’s eyes swept the lobby before he followed the other man.
The Enforcers seemed widely ignored by the populace, and they were all too happy to return the favor. Arthur noticed how relaxed they all seemed, even though their hands never strayed too far from their holstered, high-caliber pistols. A little girl, apparently the only one who saw the gathered officers, broke away from her mother and tugged on a female Enforcer’s glove. The woman looked down, smiled, and knelt by her side. They exchanged a few words before the girl’s mother snatched her away. The Enforcer stood, her face unreadable, and turned back to her comrades.
It all seemed so bizarre to Arthur, who could barely seem to keep a grip on his own sense of self that day. When he realized that the gaggle of girls was still gossiping in the corner without their red-haired compatriot, the realities of the night before came flooding back. Instead of grounding him, it made his head feel twenty pounds lighter.
He fought his way up the stairs again, each step feeling about ten feet above the last. By the time Dervish had passed him on a landing and gave him a knowing nod, Arthur’s legs had turned completely to jelly. If he had been sweating when he left the apartment, he was amazed he had any water left in his body now.
The fresh air offered a sense of reality, if nothing else. He could close his eyes and just be himself, without having to think about the last twenty-four hours. When he did think of his father, sister, and the horrible event at the Guild, he had hope that everything would turn out alright. But when the night closed in and he was joined by couples seeking to enjoy the sunset to cap a day devoid of responsibility or conveniences, Arthur couldn’t help but feel the familiar sting of doubt and loneliness that had so recently seemed to poison everything he touched.
June 19th, 2011
After Midnight
“You’re cheating,” Tim accused Ariana after another beneficial roll of the dice.
She laughed in the candlelight. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you suck.” She picked up the race car and moved it eight spaces. “And I’m staying in one of my hotels tonight.”
“Art, how long until power is restored and we can stop getting played by Ari?” Tim asked in annoyance. He reached for the dice as Arthur squinted toward the analog wall clock.
“Twenty minutes or so,” he announced from the kitchen, trying to read by his candle’s glow. “Kind of reminds you of the time that Dr. Corpse’s fake zombies escaped, doesn’t it?”
“Are you kidding?” Ariana tossed a look over to him. “At least then we had power.”
“Plus I got to wander the streets punching the undead.” Tim slapped his bicep. “No teeth in the world sharp enough to cut through this skin.”
“I was so mad at you,” Ariana cooed nauseatingly. “You having to go out there and knock a few blocks off to prove you’re an unstoppable killing machine.”
Tim smiled. “They ate Dr. Corpse. It was my duty to the city.”
She shook her head and smiled wider. “Despite how sexy you looked smashing through the horde, you still should have stayed home.” Her eyes twinkled in the light. Tim gave her a rakish smile before she beckoned him over for a kiss. Arthur went back to his book. They had been acting like that since they got home a couple hours ago. It was insufferable. “Roll.”
Tim obeyed. “Damn it.” Ariana laughed and covered her mouth as she kicked her feet in success.
“Oh, honey, it’s alright.” She stuck her tongue out and winked. “You’ll be spending the night in my hotel,” she said as she leaned in close. She whispered something in his ear. He squinted at her when she finished relaying her no-doubt scandalous communique.
“If I do, can I not pay you this round?”
The lights unexpectedly snapped on. Arthur’s eyes adjusted to find the two of them still shielding theirs. He blew out his candle. “Power’s back on,” he announced.
“Thanks,” hissed Ariana before gasping in pain. “My head’s killing me, now.”
Tim took his hand away from his face and blinked a few times. “Why is it I always see purple hippos when stuff like that happens?” Ariana was clearing up the candles when Arthur came into the living room. He turned on the television. The picture came in as a standard test pattern for technical difficulties. “It’s tuned to VWN,” Tim explained. “They’re not back online yet.”
Arthur nodded and turned to a neutral news station. “Oh, no…”
Ariana dropped the candles to the floor and fell backward, missing the couch and crashing to the floor. “That’s…”
Tim turned to the television. “Shit.”
The volume was too low to hear, but it was clear what had happened. Desert Ranger’s publicity shot was full screen, the word ‘Murdered’ superimposed over it. Arthur swallowed and turned up the volume.
“… Best known for being the formerly undocumented hero who fought for democracy in his home country of Iraq…”
Click.
“… Attacks. A popular man, his stated mission was to keep order and balance between heroes and villains, America and the world.”
Click.
“… The murderer is believed to still be at large. And, in a shocking twist, seems to be from the Heroes’ Guild ranks.”
Click.
“… Don’t see how anyone could possibly blame heroes for holding a grudge, especially after the 1988 attacks which led to this system. It just is another example of our government failing to uphold its promises…”
Click.
“… Dark Saint was reported to have been attempting to stop an assassination attempt on Desert Ranger, only to meet the same fate…”
Arthur hadn’t even noticed he dropped the remote. He became acutely aware of Ariana and Tim staring at him, but he didn’t care. Trying to swallow, he found his mouth had become agonizingly dry. De
spite the heat of the apartment, goose bumps prickled their way across his skin. He heaved air, but otherwise felt nothing.
Then, a hand gently rested on his arm. The sensation snapped him out of his stupor long enough to look at it. Despite the size, he expected it to have been Tim to have grabbed him, providing support. Instead, Ariana, almost being held back by her boyfriend, had reached out for him. Her eyes flicked over his face, then to the walls, then back to him. She released him, and he turned back toward the television.
“… Begs the question, what unknown aggressor did this? If the heroes know, they aren’t telling.” The generically handsome anchor faded away to a previously recorded shot of Desert Ranger answering questions at a conference. Then, the image went black, before going to a generic graphic of the network’s logo with the phrase ‘Late-breaking News’ stenciled across it.
Tim grabbed the remote and turned back to their preferred channel. Sure enough, the network was up and running. A similar title card greeted the roommates on the television. “Villain World News is back, bigger and badder than ever,” a voice which Arthur recognized as the station owner growled in a bad imitation of a rock star. “We take you now to the scene of a breaking story.”
The screen flickered to Talia Illyanovich, looking disheveled but still attractive in the Heroes’ Guild. She held something to her ear as a microphone shook in her hands. Around her, the voices of confusion and irritation roiled like water, fighting to drown out one another. It seemed that the heroes were on the cusp of an all-out riot.
Tim tapped Ariana. “We met her.”
Ariana rolled her eyes. “Oh, believe me. I know.”
“Villains have been suffering through a media and travel lock down for twenty-four hours following an unknown incident at the Super Heroes’ Guild late Friday night,” she rattled in her impressive non-regional dialect. Arthur was astounded at how good of an actress she was. “No information on the event is available, but Arbiter has issued a request for a voting member meeting at this unusual hour.”
“She has no idea what’s going on,” Ariana said in amazement.
“They weren’t kidding when they said communications were cut,” Tim muttered.
Stalling for time, Talia smiled at the camera. “For those who don’t know, the elections are…” She stopped, eyes fixed on something unseen. Horror spread across her features. “Move the camera!” she screamed in her normal voice, shoving the cameraman out of the way. A flurry of motion, screams of shock, and finally the camera returned to focus. Talia was staring at something on the stage. She looked back at the camera. “Are you getting this?”
The cameraman stood up, focusing on a severely battered Zombress crumpled on the stage. She was conscious, although it was hard to tell how she managed that feat. The massive form of Arbiter strode toward the villain after having tossed her from the entrance to the hall. The cacophony had devolved into stunned silence at his entrance, none wanting to question the Lord of Justice.
“On Friday night, we were victims, once more, of a terrible crime. Zombress, self-styled Queen of the Dead… murderer, assassin… and your fellow Consul, committed this deed.” He raced forward and kicked her in the gut, sending her to the floor. There were cries of foul play when he turned back to the crowd. “I warned you! All of you! This scum could not be trusted.” He pointed at her. “She had no doubt plotted a way to carry out the destruction her fellow villains sought over two decades ago!”
Talia turned toward the camera, mouth working but no words coming out. Zombress struggled to get up, but, from behind the camera, Julia moved with surprising speed toward her. In a moment, her boot was firmly on Zombress’s neck. She pulled out her gun and cocked it.
Arbiter addressed his audience again. “Desert Ranger was a great hero. But he was naive. He called for kindness… reconciliation… compassion for these monsters! These monsters who would take their greatest friend and destroy him!” His voice choked with emotion. He looked at his hands. “Dark Saint… my friend… my only true friend… sought to stop…” It was unsettling watching Arbiter clench and unclench his fists, clearly trying to rein in emotions other than fury. What one could see of his face turned red as he hunched over. He gasped for air, then pointed again at Zombress. “Stop this from happening!”
The television screen flickered, then static invaded the screen. There seemed to be a collective gasp. Someone screamed.
“What the fuck, what the fuck is she doing!” a male voice shouted. More yells of terror echoed. Dimly, Arthur was aware that the typical censorship-bleeps were missing.
“She’s getting off the floor…” Talia whispered fearfully. “Impossible…”
“Stop her, Arbiter!” another one cried out.
There was a constant muttering, and it took a moment for them to realize that it must have been the cameraman repeating “No,” over and over.
“What’s going on?” Tim asked.
“She can’t escape…” Ariana said in between panicked breaths.
The camera recovered. Arbiter stomped over to the villain and hunched over her as Julia continued to back away from the downed woman. Julia’s gun pointed vaguely above her target as it wavered, her shock-white face terrifying Arthur.
“Didn’t Talia say…” Tim began. The others hissed him into silence.
Arbiter grabbed Zombress by the throat and hefted her into the air. Whatever had transfixed Julia broke its hold – she blinked heavily and readjusted her aim as Zombress pawed weakly at Arbiter’s thick arms. “Consuls Dark Saint and Desert Ranger, our faithful security guard Tom Gavin, and countless others have died by your hands! Men who sought only justice have been severed from life by murder most foul!” He pulled her close to him as he turned to his audience. “No prison can contain her! No medicine can cure her of her need to kill!” He looked back at her and raised her into the air again.
But her eyes were not on him. She was looking down at Julia, their eyes locked. She tried to say something but either couldn’t manage the air or was nowhere near loud enough to be picked up by the microphones. Her plea went unregistered by Julia, who had taken to pulling and resetting the hammer on her gun repeatedly.
“It’s time to end this!” Arbiter roared. He spiked Zombress, head first, into the floor. The woman crumpled with a sickening crunch. Someone in the Guild vomited. Ariana buried her head in Tim’s shoulder while Arthur covered his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. What seemed like an eternity passed, like they walked through a membrane of reality itself. “Dark times are upon us again,” Arbiter began. “Zombress is but one head of the hydra, and the resilience of the beast has grown stronger as it suckled at the teat of our government.” He walked toward the other heroes. “Our families, our homes, our very lives are at stake. Do we let the sacrifices of our forebears, of Desert Ranger and Dark Saint go forgotten?
“We can continue as before, hoping that the next peace will be longer, but we would be kidding ourselves. Villains are no more capable of peace than we are of denying ourselves the air we breathe.” He paused, breathing deeply, before resuming slowly and building with every word. “You can live in fear, never knowing if your children are safe or if your powers are strong enough to keep them so. I offer you a solution. Gather behind me, and there shall be no doubt.
“No longer shall the unjust be allowed to run free! No longer shall the tyranny of bureaucracy stop our duty! In your heart, you know I speak the truth!” He raised his hands in a ‘V’. “America! Shall! Be! Purged!”
For a brief moment, Arthur thought that the other heroes would bum rush the stage and take Arbiter out. The silence following his speech ended abruptly as a set of hands, followed by more, then more still, clapped again and again. Soon, the entire Guild was applauding. Talia looked at her camera, then grabbed it before it cut out.
“This is a joke,” Arthur muttered.
“What are they thinking?” Tim asked to no one in particular.
“It’s like we mean nothing.” Ariana s
tared at the television.
Arthur turned to another station. Sure enough, Arbiter continued to bask in the adoration of the Guild members. It seemed surreal, like if Arthur concentrated hard enough, he’d snap out of it and he’d be back to reading books in the dark. But the image never left and the sound seemed to grow and grow. Arthur shook his head. “What’s going to be left of us when this ends?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NORMALITY
June 23rd, 2011
Morning
TALIA LEANED AGAINST A BUILDING, eating a bagel as she held a newspaper in front of her face with her other hand. Crumbs fell gently to her navy blue suit and her red tie, but that could hardly be of concern at the moment. The headline declaring that Arbiter was going to remove the Protective Clauses had grabbed her attention and rendered any possible bagel-related mishaps inconsequential. She scanned the article before, having had enough of it, she shoved the paper under her arm with a roll of her eyes.
Paranoid pap, she mentally scoffed as she finished her bagel. Pushing off the building, she grabbed the newspaper and threw it into the nearest trash bin on her way to the crowded sidewalk.
It was another warm morning, foretelling of a hot and humid Thursday gearing up to be all manner of oppressive. People were growing more and more irritable in direct correlation with the rising temperature, feeding off each other’s discomfort in a cycle of abuse. Talia suspected that the villain press’s relentless reporting of every possible wrongdoing Arbiter could conceivably commit provided an outlet for their rage toward the weather.
It had been four days since Arbiter managed to win an unchallenged emergency election on Sunday morning. Outside of the many closed meetings which were being held in the Heroes’ Guild, nothing had changed. People went about their jobs as normal, there were still mock fights in the streets, and, for all intents and purposes, it appeared that level heads prevailed.
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