Men of Steel

by Ryan Loveless

  Poltergeist shot his foe a wicked grin. “You know, Rosey,” he started, “if you retract your thorns, you’ll be able to come down right now.”

  The villain’s eyes grew wide. “You’re right!” he said. “You’ll be sorry for that advice, Poltergeist!” Saying this, the Rose retracted all his thorns—and without anything to keep him pinned to the ceiling, he plummeted thirty feet down to the cold, marble bank floor, moaning in a crumpled mess as Poltergeist made his way over to his brown-clad helper.

  “Thanks,” the man in brown said as Poltergeist helped him up. “I guess I didn’t think too much about getting around in this thing,” he added, looking down at his costume.

  Poltergeist looked at the mask the man was wearing. It was plain white, with two small black dots for eyes and a straight black line for a mouth. “No, I don’t think you did,” he said. “Listen, we’ve still got two of these villains to take care of. Think you can keep fighting?”

  The man in brown nodded eagerly.

  “You’re too late!” a shrill voice called out. The two heroes whirred to see a tall, thin man in yellow clutching a frightened bank teller to his body. The villain’s skeletal hands were poised over her face. “We’ve not been properly introduced,” he said to the man in brown, in his shrill, shrieking manner. “I’m Touch-Me-Not, leader of the Flower Children. And you are?”

  The man in brown could only stammer back, “S-S-Stingray.”

  The man in yellow rolled his eyes. “Boy, you costumed heroes get weirder and weirder,” he said. “Anyway, S-S-Stingray, if you and your short friend don’t let us walk out of this bank with a few sacks full of loot, well, then this pretty little girl won’t be so pretty anymore, will she?” Touch-Me-Not bore his beady black eyes into the brown man’s face. “You see, whoever I touch gets a terrible wasting disease, incurable by modern medicine. And you wouldn’t want this woman’s death on your hands, would you?”

  Stingray could only shake his head as the evil villain barked orders to his only subordinate still standing. “Shrinking Violet!” he shrieked to the man in purple, who had the power, it seemed, to make things smaller. “Get the money!”

  Shrinking Violet made his way toward the bank’s vault. Using his amazing powers, he shrunk the door until it fell clear off its hinges.

  “On three,” Poltergeist whispered to Stingray.

  “What on three?” Stingray whispered back.

  Poltergeist wasn’t listening. “One, two, THREE!” With a sudden movement, Poltergeist leaped forward, cartwheeling across the floor. Touch-Me-Not could only watch in amazement at this acrobatic display. Not paying any attention to his hostage, he was helpless as the intrepid woman stepped down with all her might on the cackling man’s instep.

  “Ow!” he shrieked, but it was the advantage Poltergeist needed. Using his powers, he soon had Touch-Me-Not ass over tip and proceeded to bash him about the room as if the villain were the metal sphere inside some financially-themed pinball machine.

  Meanwhile, Shrinking Violet ran forward to confront Stingray. “You won’t escape me!” he yelled, as he shot a massive purple energy cloud at him. Stingray was still too stunned to move, and he felt his own costume shrink to half its size, causing him to fall to the floor, and constricting his hands. Shrinking Violet strode forward confidently. “Well, well, well,” he said, rubbing his hands together in triumph. Stingray desperately tried to get his hands to touch—close, closer—but they were still two precious inches apart. Shrinking Violet smiled and kicked him hard in the ribs. “Looks like I caught me a superhero,” he said. He pulled out a knife. “I wonder what you’ll look like when I rip that costume off—and all your flesh too,” he added.

  The knife was all the extra incentive Stingray needed. He managed to touch just the tips of his fingers together—but that, combined with his heightened sense of fear and sudden rush of adrenaline, caused his entire body to glow with an electric blue light. Now freed from his cloth prison, Stingray focused all his energy on Shrinking Violet, spasming the villain for a full sixty seconds before allowing him to finally crumple to the floor in an unconscious heap.

  Exalted, Stingray stood up. His chest was heaving for oxygen, and his heart was pounding a mile a minute, but he was excited—damn excited. “Yeah! Yeah!” he yelled, throwing his fist triumphantly into the air. He expected everyone else around him to react the same way—or at least to give him some polite applause. After all, he had helped save them from some pretty dastardly villains. But all he heard was silence.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, walking over to Poltergeist, who was busy stacking all the villains into a pile for the now-arriving police. “Didn’t we do good?”

  Poltergeist slapped Stingray on his shoulder. “You did great, kid,” he said. “I think people are just a little surprised about your costume.”

  “Why?” Stingray said, taken aback. “I mean, I know it’s kind of clumsy, and it’s not very flashy, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

  “Are you kidding?” Poltergeist said. “It was terrible. But, to be honest, it’s the lack of it that’s causing all the excitement.”

  Puzzled, Stingray suddenly realized he could feel a draft where no man should ever be able to feel a draft—at least not in public. In his frenzy to free himself and defeat Shrinking Violet, he had apparently managed to rip off his entire costume—except for his mask, which thankfully hid his rapidly reddening face. Quickly, he grabbed a piece of the torn costume and used it to cover his privates.

  He could hear Poltergeist chuckling. “Come on, kid,” he said, moving the Stingray towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

  POLTERGEIST flew them to the top of a tall building. He also managed to snag a few stray items of clothing hanging out to dry. “Seriously,” he said, “whatever made you think it was a good idea to go superheroing commando?”

  Stingray shrugged. “I didn’t have any clean underwear this morning.”

  Poltergeist laughed. “Let me guess—first time as a superhero?” Stingray glumly nodded. “Superhero piece of advice number one, rookie—always wear clean underwear when you go superheroing.” Noticing the slumped shoulders of his young companion, Poltergeist softened. “Aww, it’s okay. Hey, we all make these rookie mistakes. The first time I went superheroing, I mistimed a landing and went straight through a plate glass window. Not only did the villain get away, but I had to pay the shopkeeper for the glass!”

  Stingray broke out laughing. “Thanks for telling me that.”

  Poltergeist was laughing as well. “But seriously, who made that ridiculous costume? Please tell me you didn’t do it.”

  Stingray shrugged again. “Actually, I got it from the Chelsea Aquarium,” he said. “That’s where I work. I’m not a marine biologist or anything; I just dress up in different animal costumes and run around and entertain the kids. Actually, I’m a marine biology major in college but I’m only a sophomore, so—”

  “Whoa, kid, slow down there. I don’t need your whole life story.”

  “Sorry.” Stingray stared glumly at his feet. “Anyway, I borrowed the costume from the aquarium. Man, when I don’t bring it back, I am so fired!”

  “Aww, take it easy on yourself,” Poltergeist said. “Let me guess—you’ve just come into your powers pretty recently, huh?”

  Stingray nodded eagerly. “Last couple months. At first I was kind of excited, because I thought how cool it was to have a super power. But it’s become a real pain, actually. Still, I figured I’d better use it in a good way, you know? So I became Stingray!”

  “Yeah, about that,” Poltergeist said. “Why Stingray?”

  “Well, it does kind of make sense,” Stingray replied defensively. “I mean, I can really sting people, and I do like the ocean. Still, it wasn’t easy. I went through a lot of names before settling on Stingray. Not all of them were animal names, either. I even thought about calling myself Discharge for a while, but…that just didn’t seem like a good idea.”

  �
�No, that would not have been a good name, especially in this part of New York.” Poltergeist smiled. Stingray looked up at his face. It was mostly covered by his famous black and white mask—all of it, that is, except for his mouth. Stingray smiled. Poltergeist had a very expressive mouth. Even for a guy who had most of his face covered up, it was pretty easy to see what he was feeling just from looking at his mouth.

  Stingray looked over the rest of his companion’s body. His costume was the same black and white as the mask that hid his face, but unlike that mask, his costume concealed nothing. Though Poltergeist was compact, he was built like a soccer player, and his costume showed off every rippling muscle in his body. Stingray felt himself growing uncomfortable staring at his companion. “Well, I mean, if I could get a costume like yours….”

  Poltergeist held up his hands. “Say no more,” he said. He slipped his fingers into his trunks and pulled out a card. “This is Emilio. Best costume guy in town. He’ll take care of you. Trust whatever he wants to do. And tell him I sent you.”

  Stingray reluctantly took the card. “Well, thanks, but… I can’t really afford to….”

  Poltergeist waved his hands dismissively. “Tell him to put it on my tab,” he said.

  “No, I—I can’t accept that….”

  “Don’t worry about it. Consider it ‘thanks’ for helping me out back there.”

  “Wow. That’s—that’s awesome. Thanks.” Stingray reached up and began tugging at his mask. “Geez, it’s hot out today,” he said.

  “What are you doing?” Poltergeist asked, smacking Stingray’s hand away from his face. “You’re taking your mask off? In front of me?”

  “So?” Stingray said, confused. “What’s the big deal? You’re a superhero, I’m a superhero….”

  “Rule number two about being a superhero, kid. Never take your mask off for anyone—not even a fellow superhero.”

  “But—why?”

  “Because you never know who might be watching. And you never know who may be a supervillain in disguise. Or, if I were to be captured, I might be forced to give up all the information I know about other superheroes. I could be drugged, or hypnotized, or….”

  “Okay, okay, I get it,” Stingray said. “Still, I mean, if you can’t take your mask off... how do you ever…?”

  “Eat?” Poltergeist interrupted. “That’s why I keep my mouth free and clear,” he said glibly. Stingray was silent. They both knew that wasn’t the question he was going to ask.

  “Look,” Poltergeist said before Stingray could speak up, “there’s obviously a lot you have to learn about being a superhero. Why don’t we meet for dinner tonight… say, eight o’clock? Abruzzi’s on Third—go around the back. We’ll use their private room—I saved the owner from a bashing last year and I’ve been getting free pasta ever since. Okay? We can talk all about the superhero game. Until then….” he said, levitating himself off of the rooftop and into the day.

  Stingray watched as Poltergeist became a speck in the brilliant blue sky. He found himself wondering about the man who had just left him. Who was he? What did he look like? Who was the man behind the mask?

  He turned around. Another question popped into his head—how the hell was he going to get off this roof?

  “…SO THEN he says, ‘Rutabagas? I thought they were gold!’”

  Stingray laughed. “Oh, I get it, you switched the bag on him.” He paused to take a quick sip of water before asking another question. “So what was it like fighting the Castrator? I mean….”

  Poltergeist held up his hand. “Enough!” he interrupted with a laugh. “I feel like I’m on the superhero version of This Is Your Life.”

  Stingray smiled. “Well, it’s not everyday you get to have dinner with your hero. Besides, it’s not like I have any cool superhero stories to share with you.”

  “Not yet. You will. And, by the way, I have to say again, I love your new costume. That color green is perfect with your red hair.”

  Stingray’s smile grew wider. “Thanks. You were right about your friend Emilio—he was awesome. Still, I don’t know. I’m not sure what green has to do with stingrays. They’re brown.”

  Poltergeist waved his hand dismissively. “Please! You don’t have to be so literal. Your costume this morning was a wreck. This one seems—much more functional.” Poltergeist also approved of how the form-fitting green outfit showed off every lean muscle in the lithe youth’s body, but he didn’t say that aloud. Instead, he turned back toward his menu. “Well, maybe we should get some dessert,” he said, looking up to find Stingray peering directly at him. “What… do I have something on my mask?” he asked.

  “No,” Stingray replied with a shy smile. “I guess—I was just wondering—well, never mind… so, anyway, what’s next?”

  Poltergeist considered his options. “I think maybe some flan. I know it’s a bit fattening, but I think we worked off some serious calories this morning. What about you?”

  Stingray was shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Poltergeist paused. “You don’t like flan?”

  Stingray gave the Poltergeist a bemused smile. “I meant, what’s next for us?”

  Poltergeist shrugged. “What do you mean?”

  Stingray gave his hero a dazzling smile. “Well, I mean, I’m pretty sure you don’t have a ghost cave or anything, but where do we go? Maybe you have a haunted house somewhere you’d like to take me to….”

  Poltergeist stared at his companion. “What, do you think this is a date? That we’re going to go have sex now?”

  Stingray squirmed in his confusion. “No, I… I….”

  Poltergeist set down his menu and stood up abruptly. “I think I’ve lost my appetite for dessert.” He started for the door, but turned back suddenly. “Look, you’re a nice kid, okay, but superheroes don’t date, especially not each other. That’s just a basic rule. You’d better learn that one first.”

  Stingray was stunned into silence for a minute. “Hey,” he said, finally managing to speak up, but no one was in the room to hear. “I said, ‘Hey!’” he yelled louder, chasing Poltergeist out the backdoor of the restaurant and into the street. “Come on!”

  Poltergeist did his best to ignore him, but finally stopped when a crackle of blue electricity snapped at his feet. He whirled. “You want to play it like that?” he said, gesturing with his hand and raising Stingray five feet into the air to hover over a dumpster.

  Stingray struggled to free himself from Poltergeist’s invisible grasp, but to no avail. “Let me down!” he shouted. The black-and-white clad hero only glared at him. Stingray tried another tactic. “I just thought—maybe—I mean, we worked so well together earlier. I thought maybe we could be partners.”

  “Partners!” Poltergeist exploded. He thought about dumping Stingray into the trash head-first, but finally released him with a mild thump onto the cold concrete of the alley. “Partners!” he said again. “Kid, you are as green as they come. You flailed around this morning like a rookie. It’s lucky no one got killed. And you want to be partners with me?” He began to walk away.

  “You could teach me!” Stingray shouted. “You could show me the ropes!”

  “Oh my God,” Poltergeist said. He was almost laughing. “You want to be my sidekick.” He glided forward so that his masked face was right in Stingray’s. “Kid, listen to me real closely. I don’t do sidekicks.”

  “You did before!” Stingray shouted. “Before you came here, when you were out West. You had a sidekick. Some guy who could turn invisible. Trans—Transparent.”

  “Translucent,” Poltergeist corrected him. “And how did you find out about him?”

  Stingray lowered his gaze. “Emilio told me,” he finally mumbled.

  “Emilio has a big mouth,” Poltergeist said coldly. “And I still don’t see how any of this is relevant to you.”

  “What happened to him?” Stingray countered.

  Poltergeist was wary. “What do you mean?”

  St
ingray shrugged. “Something had to happen to him. It explains why you act the way you do. What was it? Did he die? Turn evil? Or did he just dump you?”

  When Poltergeist spoke, his back was to Stingray, and his voice was wracked with quiet pain. “I don’t know what happened to him,” he said finally.

  Stingray was confused. “What, did he just… disappear?” Immediately he saw the Poltergeist’s shoulders cringe. “Sorry. Bad choice of words.”

  “No, you’re right,” Poltergeist replied. “That’s exactly what happened. We had been—together, and then… nothing. No warning, no explanation… and to this day I still don’t know what happened. Don’t you see…” Poltergeist started, but then broke off. Stingray could see by the movement of his companion’s shoulders that he was choking back a sob. He started to move toward him. “It’s just easier this way… never getting close… never knowing one another… because sometimes, things happen… sometimes we disappear… sometimes the bad guys win… sometimes… sometimes, we die.”

  Stingray reached Poltergeist on this last word, and gently placed his hand on his hero’s shoulder. With a sudden movement, Poltergeist whirled. Though Stingray was six inches taller than his hero, Poltergeist’s power and sheer presence made him seem larger than the other man. When he whirled, he grabbed Stingray’s chin in one hand and squeezed. With a guttural cry he hurled them both toward the brick wall of the alley.

  Stingray shut his eyes and waited for the thudding impact of bone against brick—but it never came. He opened his eyes and saw the black-and-white mask of Poltergeist peering intently at him. Poltergeist’s mouth was twisted into an expression of pain and anger. And then… and then….

  And then he kissed him.

  It caught Stingray off guard, but the action was not unwelcome. He quickly returned the kiss with as much fervor and passion as he could muster. The two men became immediately lost in one another, their arms entwining each other’s muscular forms, their lips never parting for one instant. That kiss spoke volumes. It spoke of pain and loss and desire and regret and need—deep, instructive, instinctive need. It was a kiss, Stingray hoped, that would never end.