Fid's Crusade

by David Reiss

  And suddenly, the breakfast bribe made more sense.

  “I was only asleep for a few hours,” I sighed. “What did he do?”

  “He was trying to be nice,” she insisted. “He said that he was out of line, and thanked Doctor Fid for taking it easy on him.”

  “Oh, for the love of Tesla...”

  “He may have also mentioned that you gave him good advice on how to be a better hero.”

  My hands covered my face. “I'm guessing that the online communities took notice?”

  The android giggled prettily.

  “Doctor Fid was the most feared supervillain on the planet,” I complained tiredly. “I fought Valiant for twenty-two and a half minutes!”

  “And then you saved the world,” Whisper sang merrily.

  “I was taking vengeance against Sphinx and the Legion!” I threw up my hands dramatically. If my sister wanted to make this argument into a game, I was willing to play along. “Saving the world was just a side effect. Besides, I live here too! It was selfish, really.”

  “And you saved that kitten...”

  “It was falling off a window ledge,” I defended weakly. “That was just reflex.”

  “Don't be mad at Cherenkov,” she insisted. “The kitten video has more downloads, by far.”

  In retrospect, that kitten had been the beginning of the real public-perception shift. Prior to that damned calico, the media hadn't known which way to jump. Cloner, the new leader of the New York Shield, had been publicly declaring that I had averted an alien invasion and freed dozens of worlds from horrific oppression...but most remembered my vicious battle with Valiant, and the image of Doctor Fid's fearsome armor facing down one of the largest forces of heroes ever assembled. They remembered footage of brutal beating after brutal beating, two decades of pain and destruction left in my wake.

  But then I was soaring over downtown Boston and heard a little boy crying for his mother's help. Somehow, his kitten had squeezed out of his apartment window onto the building's slim ledge, well out of his reach. The earlier rain had left the concrete wet and cold, and the poor thing was shivering and mewling helplessly. The child was begging, weeping, calling for Mason (the kitten's name, presumably) to come back...but the unfortunate feline was too scared, too confused.

  And then there was a gust of wind, and tiny Mason stumbled and began to fall. The child shrieked like his heart was breaking and I dove from the sky like an ebon comet.

  “Thank you, Mister Fid!” the boy whispers as I carefully hand the squirming kitten back through the window. His focus is on Mason, not on the armored horror floating outside his apartment, and his fingers tremble as he strokes the beloved pet.

  “It's Doctor, actually,” I reply, the armor's vocoder stripping the embarrassed relief from my voice.

  “Thank you, Mister Doctor!”

  I made sure that the window was safely closed and continued my errands, then ended up in one of my laboratories performing tests. It was hours before I discovered that the incident had been captured on film and gone viral.

  “I haven't gone soft,” I grumbled. “I just haven't found anyone worth mauling in a while.”

  “Can we get a puppy, Mister Doctor?” my sister teased.

  “Sure. Fid will drown it on camera.”

  “No, he won't!” Whisper looked scandalized.

  “No. But this is getting out of hand, Whisper. I know you think that it's funny, but it's not. I spent more than two decades building Doctor Fid's reputation. The work is important.”

  “The heroes are all still afraid of you,” she assured me, though there was a hint of reproof in her voice. “It's just the media. Blow something up, beat up someone popular, they'll remember who you are.”

  “I just live streamed the cudgeling of a teenager.” I sighed and used my neural interface to mentally scan through recent comment threads on the KNN CapeWatch forums, and other news commentary. “They’re treating it as evidence that Doctor Fid is a hero.”

  “Then maybe Doctor Fid should become a hero.”

  “You know,” I smiled slowly. “That might not be a bad idea.”

  “Really?” She perked up, expression one of surprise and wonder.

  “It could work marvelously!” I grinned and swept the little android up in a brief hug. “No matter what the pundits are currently saying, though, it will take some time to convince the world that Doctor Fid has really changed. This would be a long-term plan.”

  “I can help!” she chirped enthusiastically, “I can watch the news feeds and online forums to analyze public opinions, and we could plan and make Doctor Fid the best hero ever!”

  “Your assistance would be very much appreciated.”

  “Yay!”

  I closed my eyes, envisioning the way it might play out. Right now, the media only toyed with the idea that Doctor Fid was a hero, that one of the world’s most feared supervillains had reformed; over time, that could be shaped and built upon…what would at first be only a faint hope would swell until the populace was firmly—finally—convinced. The idea of redemption was powerful; eventually, Doctor Fid would be welcomed.

  Some heroes would never truly persuaded, but in public they’d be forced to play along. I imagined Doctor Fid standing alongside local heroes, cameras flashing as the former villain reached out to the leader of the Boston Guardians to symbolize a new alliance. Titan’s jaw would clench so hard that the veins at his temples throbbed, but he’d force a smile and accept the handshake.

  “When I finally return to normal,” I murmured, hand closing as though responding to the imaginary Titan’s grasp. “When I finally return to being Doctor Fid, they’ll be crushed. A betrayal like that…people will hate me like never before.”

  “…what?”

  “It’s a brilliant idea, Whisper. Thank you!” Using my neural link to contact my primary computer systems, I opened several new project files and started gathering resources to begin constructing a proper plan.

  The media’s current treatment of Doctor Fid was unacceptable; this new scheme would take significant amounts of time and effort to implement, but the narrative would, in the end, be under my control. I could return to my crusade and punish the unworthy. Even better, I would serve as an example that the public granted trust to their heroes far too easily. The next time one of their champions betrayed the people’s confidence, the hero might actually be held accountable. It would be glorious.

  Whisper was staring at me with an indecipherable expression on her face, so I grinned reassuringly. “If Aaron is expecting us at ten, I should probably start getting ready. We can wait to begin work until afterward.”

  “Okay,” she responded quietly.

  Feeling brighter for having decided upon a plan of action, I hurried off to shower, shave and otherwise prepare myself for the day.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  When growing up, David was that weird kid with his nose in a book and his head in the clouds. He was the table-top role-playing game geek, the comic-book nerd, the storyteller and dreamer.

  Fortunately, he hasn’t changed much.

  David Reiss is a software engineer by trade and long-time sci-fi and fantasy devotee by passion, and he resides in Silicon Valley with his partner of twenty-six years. Also, a disturbingly spoiled cat named Freya.

  David’s hobbies generally involve exploring the crafts and skills found in works of fiction. He’s built replica lightsabers and forged medieval armor, programmed autonomous drones and brewed his own mead, started fires by rubbing two sticks together and started fires with lasers. Also, he has become equally mediocre at numerous martial arts, archery, sword fighting, paintball and lasertag.

  Fid’s Crusade was David’s first completed novel-length project, but it certainly won’t be his last—he’s having far too much fun!

 

 

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