The Midlife Crisis of Commander Invincible: A Novel (Yellow Shoe Fiction)

by Neil Connelly

  I match his free fall and grab him by an ankle, activate my retro thrusters to slow our descent. I scan the sky back toward the interstate, wondering where the second team is. My little drama has taken too long, and I need to find an endgame. Soon the damn Air Force may scramble F-16s, and I’m not good enough yet in this suit to defend myself and keep from injuring civilians. The problem is that my assault was too effective. There are no heroes on the ground who could imaginably defeat me. In the distance still, that KQEP copter is surely transmitting a live video feed now. Much as I hate it, I’ll need to let Clyde chase me off.

  Ecklar and I are close to a thousand feet when something lights up the radar on my readout. It’s the size of a 747, which doesn’t make a damn bit of sense because the airport is shut down and the object is moving too slowly to be a plane. When I turn and look through the clouds, though, it’s moving plenty fast. A jade-eyed dragon—leathery bat wings, long flailing tail, scaly belly, gaping jaw with razor teeth—bears down on me, leading with an outstretched claw. The impact knocks the wind out of me, and I nearly pass out in the grasp of the huge beast. The concussion knocks Ecklar’s ankle out of my hand, and my best friend tumbles toward the ground. The dragon corkscrews in a tight nosedive. “How dare you attack him!” Huan screams. “His is a kind and timid soul.”

  Her grip around my chest plate is impossibly tight, and all kinds of pressure alarms start clanging in my ears. I can’t open fire on her until she catches Ecklar, and it occurs to me that she could, conceivably, crush this armor like a Coke can. Fortunately, she’s a swift dragon, and she plucks my friend from the sky with a hundred feet to spare. Holding both of us, one in each claw, she lands on an empty runway, feet down, wings extended like sails. She sets Ecklar down gently and turns to me with piercing dragon eyes. Her nostrils flare. “I consider myself a pacifist, villain, and all life is sacred to me. But if you have hurt him, I will pluck your limbs like petals from a rose.”

  With Ecklar safe, I can reengage the fight. Both my arms are free, so I unload a burst of magna beams straight into her reptilian face. She roars and snaps her head back, but she doesn’t let go, and suddenly we’re aloft again, winging skyward. Her head, smoldering from my attack, turns back to me, and she says, “If you want to fight fire with fire—you should know your opponent better.” With that, her mouth opens, and for an instant, gazing into the enormous toothed cavern, I think my former teammate may eat me. Instead of tossing me into her jaws, though, she engulfs me in white flame. Coolant hisses on my face, but still the sweat pours down, stinging my eyes because I can’t wipe it away. The thermal detector registers the outside temperature at 225 degrees and rising. The optical readout is going nuts, running a series of flashing numbers that don’t mean a damn thing to me. The message “System Overload” keeps blinking before my eyes, and no matter what I think—Proton grenade, Mega beam, Thermal blast, Fly me the fuck out of here—nothing happens. The suit may be damaged beyond repair. A strange smell makes me think of grilling hamburgers, and I worry that I might be cooking. It occurs to me that indeed I might die, and I find myself strangely at peace. Forcing Chaos to retreat would be a public relations windfall. Actually defeating him, causing his death even, would guarantee the Guardians public support for another generation. The Tucker Commission would surrender, maybe even disband. The dream would go on.

  As I’m thinking this, a new message flashes before my eyes: “Failure Imminent. Emergency Initiative Omega Activated.” Something like electricity crackles around the suit, blue lightning twisting and snapping. Huan’s flame shower stops, and her grip on me goes slack. The dragon drops from the sky, and I fall right beside her.

  When we strike the tarmac, for an instant I think I’ve passed out. Then I realize it’s just that everything’s gone dark inside the armor. I hear what could be muffled voices outside, distant and anxious. After a minute or two, a single beep gives way to a series of them, and the blackness in front of me is illuminated with this flashing message: “System Error. Reboot. Reboot.”

  Soon I hear the low hum of energy, and a flood of system checks scrolls down the side of the readout. Some read “Repair Under Way,” some “Nominal,” almost half are followed by “Terminal.” I’m just glad when the lights come back on.

  I stagger to my feet and think Up, but nothing happens, so I guess flying out of here isn’t a current option. On hands and knees, I climb out of the still-smoking hole and find three heroes waiting for me—Bigfoot, the Ice Queen, and Clyde. Fifty feet away, a naked woman lies on the runway at the center of a crushed asphalt crater. It takes me a moment to realize it’s Huan. Over by the cyclone fence and on the rim of that drainage ditch, most of the cops, coated in their own puke, have recovered enough to take shelter behind their cars, draw their weapons, and take aim with their peashooters.

  “Surrender, Chaos!” Clyde yells. “Make no offensive maneuvers and you won’t be harmed.”

  The Speedstress zips past me and stands at Clyde’s side. Her appearance means the second team’s arrival is imminent.

  With the suit in the state it’s in, I can’t escape. I’m also probably not in any shape for real combat, even with these second-rate heroes. The only choice I have is to give up. And I’m ready for that, I suppose. I accomplished what I came here to do. Given all the possible outcomes, this isn’t the absolute best, but it’s far from the worst. Later, when I pry this helmet from my head, Clyde and Ecklar will be stunned. But they’ll keep my secret. What choice will they have? Sure, we’ll need one more charade when we transport Chaos to the Megajail, but it won’t be hard to fool folks. Maybe it’ll even be better if I “escape.” Today could well be the beginning of my second career as an evil criminal genius. All this is clear to me, and despite some lingering disappointment, I am resigned to my fate.

  But when I raise my hands over my head, I see the troop transport holding Bone Crusher, and the onboard computer places a blinking crosshair on the chest of each of the Guardians between me and my original objective. It’s just a thought that slips by—I could do it—but I guess it’s enough for the brain scanner. From my open palms three lasers flash. Bigfoot, Ice Queen, and the Speedstress go down, hard. Clyde cartwheels free and starts firing starburst clusters at me. He’s between me and Bone Crusher, a guy I should be trying to free, so I march toward him. One more show for the cameras, I figure, what’s the harm? The clusters slow me a bit now, sizzle off the armor. My force field must be down.

  “You’re no match for me,” I shout to Clyde. The mechanized voice he hears is impossible to recognize. I wish the news copter were close enough to record my evil dialogue.

  “Don’t be so sure, Chaos!” Clyde yells back.

  I swat the starburst clusters away like fireflies, advance on him as he backs away. “Your pathetic fireworks can’t stop me!”

  “Who said anything about stopping you?”

  He grins slyly toward the troop transport, and I engage the thermal detector in the optical scanner. Other than the engine, the truck shows cool blue, no warm body in the back. It’s a decoy. I have to admit, I’m just a bit impressed. With genuine curiosity, I ask him, “Bone’s still at the hospital?”

  But he shakes his head. “I stashed him on a fake news helicopter,” he says. “Last place you’d ever look.”

  I shake my fist, because it’s what a villain should do. Then I glance to the far side of the airfield, where the plane waits to bring Bone Crusher to the Megajail, and I say, “You’re clever, but your arrogance has made you sloppy. I will dispose of you easily, and then no one will be left to stop me from freeing my minion.”

  Smiling now, Clyde holds up one hand, and his Danger Ring flashes. In the sky behind him, two figures streak our way. In seconds they come into focus, and I make out my wife in tow behind Titan himself. They touch down on the cratered runway behind me, twenty feet apart, and I find myself at the center of a triangle of heroes.

  “It’s been a long time, Chaos,” Titan says. His skin is pale, and I
suspect he’s got a fever on the far side of 102, but he’s clear-eyed.

  Debbie’s breathing hard, nervous, but her hands glow white with energy. I am so proud of her.

  “Don’t make us finish you,” Titan says. “I can see you’ve already taken a beating today. You’re not up for all three of us.”

  I face him, see that his costume is still dirty from last night’s fight. I say, “Maybe you haven’t looked in a mirror lately, old friend. You should’ve stayed in retirement.”

  I turn to my wife. “We haven’t been introduced. Let me guess—Flame Girl? She-Torch?”

  I expect her to say something snappy like Call me Venus! but her reply is even better. “I’m Miss ‘About to Melt Your Armored Ass into a Slag Heap.’ Not much else you need to know.”

  I do my best villainous laugh. “I know who you are, Venus. You’re the one who took in that stray dog, Invincible. Hubby’s kind of been falling apart lately, hasn’t he?”

  “Leave Vincent out of this,” she says.

  All-Star yells over me, “Don’t let him taunt you.”

  “I’m not taunting,” I say. “I’m just pointing out that even to a casual observer, the guy’s got problems.”

  “He’s a better man than you’ll ever be,” she says.

  At this, of course, my heart swells thick. The belief in her voice makes me want to say, It’s me, honey. You were right. I found a way to show everyone you were right. But of course, everyone can’t know. That’s the part of the plan I actually take the most pride in. This isn’t about me getting accolades or being praised. It’s about me getting back to basics, saving the day. To do that now, though, I need to press on, and what I need to put Deb through makes me sick. “He wasn’t better today,” I say.

  Deb’s expression shifts. Titan says, “He’s toying with you. Don’t engage him.” But Deb has to ask, “What are you talking about?”

  “You could ask your husband yourself,” I say. “If you can find him. Try looking at the bottom of Lake Erie.”

  “Liar!” she says, and smoke begins to smolder from her fists.

  “The fool somehow detected my approach and thought he could stop me alone. He put up a better fight than I imagined he would. My condolences.”

  “Bastard!” she yells, and when her hands come together, there’s a burst of light, and a lava blast slams into my chest plate. I stumble back, but only a step. Then Titan’s laser eyes burn into my back. The impact of the two forces actually holds me up for a second, but then the pain drives me to a knee.

  “Pour it on,” Titan commands, and Clyde releases a storm of his starburst clusters, which sparkle and explode off the armor like miniature grenades.

  My palm lasers, the weakest but only weapon left in my arsenal, bounce off Titan’s chest like Ping-Pong balls, but I keep returning fire because I need to remain an active threat. I don’t want them to stop. Now I can see the finish line of all this, and I’m committed.

  I’ve stumbled back into one of the better outcomes, maybe the best, of my scheme. It was a long shot that it would come to this, but I knew it might, and I’m ready. With the cameras running, the Guardians will defeat Chaos. They will avenge Sparkplug’s death with a killing of their own, an act forced on them by a deadly opponent who would not surrender. And with the lie I told earlier about a battle between Chaos and Commander Invincible over Lake Erie, no one will ever know my full part in today’s drama. I’ll go down in the official records as a loser who stayed around too long. But the Guardians’s legacy will be safe forever.

  As they advance on me, intensifying their attack, I double over, press my hands together, and activate the lasers. The recoil is incredible, but I strain the armor’s servomotors and my own weary muscles, keeping them locked tight. There’s a white-and-red alarm light strobing in my face, and it feels like I’m holding an explosion pressed between my palms. In all the smoke and radiance, I doubt the Guardians—or the cameras—can even see what I’m doing. On the battle armor’s readout, one last flashing message, “Detonation Imminent.”

  I want my final words to mean something. I’ve played this scenario out so many times, but my death was always as a hero, urging my teammates to victory, telling my wife I love her. I can’t say any of those things now, so I’m forced to play the role I’ve chosen. I glance toward Deb, shimmering in her own heat, her hair lifting up and aflame. I see the ferocity and love in her eyes, and I yell, “You haven’t seen the last of me! I’ll be back. Nothing can stop Chaos!”

  And then the armor explodes.

  FIFTEEN

  Live Coverage. The Salmon from Monhegan. Being Needed.

  The Significance of a Closed Nightstand Drawer.

  Bad Dancers. Fire in the Sky.

  I watch the armor burst in a fiery ball—surely bearing witness to my own death—on a huge flat-screen TV. Impossible as this is, I can’t turn away from the spectacle—red and orange blooms, flowing billows of black smoke. It’s enough to knock Clyde on his ass, which pleases me just a bit. Titan, who’s got to be exhausted, deactivates his laser eyes and collapses forward in a heap. But Deb refuses to let up. I’m amazed to watch her charge into the debris, incinerating any piece bigger than a shoe box. She is furious and lovely, and I know she’ll make an impressive widow. I imagine her dressed in black standing over my grave. As tears slip from her eyes, they sizzle on her cheeks.

  Then I feel a tingle in the back of my brain, and I hear, All that’s a tad premature, don’t you think, dear boy?

  I turn to see Magus sitting next to me in a plastic chair just like mine. Somehow I’m wearing civilian clothes, and we’re in what feels like a large hospital room: white tile floors, cream walls, curtains drawn. There are two twin beds with rails. Next to Magus, a bald man with sunken cheeks slumps over in a wheelchair and gawks at the television. The words Live Coverage appear in the lower corner. The man turns from the TV to me. Magus says, “Don’t mind Julius. His mind isn’t what it used to be. But he knows how to keep a secret.” Julius winks at me and turns back to the TV, where Kid Cyclone and the Jersey Devil descend from the sky. The Ice Queen is extinguishing the flaming bits of the Chaos armor.

  Debbie has her face in her hands.

  From his lap, Magus lifts the wand. “That poor girl truly thinks you’re no longer among the living. I’ll send you back to the HALO, and you can call her.”

  “Wait,” I say.

  He holds the wand in midair, like a conductor with a baton.

  “What the hell just happened?”

  “I rescued you, dear boy. After you gave me the Merlin wand, when our minds touched in the interrogation room, when you asked me to play along with that part of your little game, I saw the whole plan. I didn’t mean to, but it’s like overhearing something. You can’t very well unhear it. Anyway, that’s why I’ve been watching. I couldn’t let you get injured. Nice bit, too, snapping that fake stick in half. Very dramatic.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Thanks.”

  Julius points at the screen and opens his mouth. What comes out isn’t quite a word. Huan, covered in a blanket, is sitting on the back fender of a paramedic truck. Magus strokes the man’s worried face and says, “I told you she’d be all right.” Turning back to me, Magus explains, “He’s always had a fondness for animals.”

  I nod as if I understand.

  A nurse walks in pushing a squeaky-wheeled cart. After maneuvering a slim table between us and the TV, she transfers two covered plates, ugly yellow plastic, from the cart. “Slice of white bread, meatloaf, green beans, apple juice. I didn’t know you all had a visitor, Mr. van Alkemade.”

  “An old friend,” Magus tells her.

  She glances at the action on the screen. “They finally get you a new television?”

  “I suppose they did,” he says.

  “Fancy-schmancy.” She smiles at me, wheels the cart on to the next room.

  Magus says to Julius, “You remember the salmon we shared on Monhegan?”

  Julius licks his lips an
d nods. Magus lifts the plastic lid, and the smell rises with the steam. There on a china plate is a slab of pink fish, nested next to asparagus coated in butter, alongside a short glass of what might be sherry. Magus unfolds a white cotton napkin and arranges it in on his friend’s lap. Julius reaches for a fork with a trembling hand.

  “I’ll tell you,” Magus says, tapping the wand on his lap. “It’s good to have this back.”

  I wonder what the two of them are doing here. Perhaps my thoughts are too loud, because Magus says, “Julius wrote me every week while I was in prison. Somehow he’d guessed my true nature, something I’d never really come to terms with myself. After I got out, we had nine amazing months, then the Alzheimer’s began to come on. Even with the wand, it seems I can’t mend some things. But the nurses here, they take care of Julius and me both. They’re good people, doing the best they can.”

  “That’s all you can do,” I say.

  Magus considers my face. “I wasn’t sure you realized that. I hope you do. Truly, my boy, that despair I felt when I touched your mind. You can’t live that way.”

  I worry about what exactly he saw. “Hopefully that’s behind me now.”

  “You don’t have to hope,” he says. “You have to decide. It’s always easier to find a noble reason to die. Finding one to live for, that’s the trick.”

  On the flat-screen, Debbie is helping Titan to his feet. They stagger toward a hovercar. “I have plenty to live for,” I tell Magus. “More than most.”

  “All right then,” he says. He holds the wand up like a question.

  “What’ll you do?” I ask.

  “Same thing I’ve been doing. Going on my strolls, finding people who need me. It’s important, I’ve decided, to feel needed.”