Memoirs of a Crimefighter

by Seth Jacob

  A shockingly thin Beyond Girl threw a fist at me that was brimming with glowing energy. I bobbed out of the way, and stepped right into a puddle of water that was coursing with electricity. Sadly, Stripper Supra also stood in the pool of water, electricity flowing from her feet through the sprinkler water and into my body, and my whole body seized up as at least fifty thousand volts of electricity surged through me. Supra ran out of juice, the current stopped, and I collapsed to my knees in a splash of water. The other two floated above the ground next to her, careful not land in any electrified water, and they lined up in front of me like a voluptuous firing squad. I was trying to recover from the powerful shock, but I couldn’t even stand up.

  Behind the three strippers preparing to execute me on the mainstage, Ultra Lady and Mistress Gorgon were brawling in a blue sea of flames. Ultra Lady was not doing so well. Mistress Gorgon’s marble eyes lit up like halogen headlights and Ultra Lady’s shoulder was coated with supra-stone where the white light touched her skin. The supra-stone restricted her movement severely, and the Serpent Seductress kicked her with a six inch stiletto so hard that a shockwave throbbed throughout the burning club. Glasses shattered and blue flames flickered with the radiating force.

  While Mistress Gorgon had Ultra Lady on the ropes, Beyond Girl raised a fist that crackled with plasmatic energy. Supra pointed a finger at my face that was spewing sparks. Queen Quantum tore the crooked pole out of the ground and held it like a huge metal beating stick that had been wiped down thoroughly in between dances. I did my best to prepare myself for death by superhuman stripper.

  I started to close my eyes and think that there are worst last sights than three beautiful women, and Ultra Lady landed a lucky uppercut on Mistress Gorgon’s chin that shattered the supra-stone encasing her arm. The blow threw the Serpent Seductress across the club like a rag doll, and the fire spitting serpents on her skull went limp as she was knocked out cold. The superhuman stripper firing squad in front of me vanished along with the rest of the club, and I found myself in the air above the Z-Ray Lounge with serious whiplash. I honestly didn’t have any idea what just happened, and that’s when I realized that I was in the arms of Ultra Lady as she flew me to safety at super speed.

  “Nice work. Do you know how long it took me to get that deep undercover in there?” Ultra Lady scolded me, but I had no response. My mind was boggling at the fact that she had just whisked me out of that place so fast that even with my superhuman reflexes and perception, from my point of view it was like we had just teleported out of there.

  “Uh…” I was bewildered by the bird’s eye view of the Z-Ray Lounge going up in turquoise flames below us and the fire engines that were arriving outside of the seedy establishment.

  “Seriously, Spectacle. Try to think like an adult for one second in your life. I was this close to busting Mistress Gorgon’s human trafficking operation, and you just forced me to flush all of that time building a case down the toilet so I could save your ass. Thanks, seriously, thanks a lot,” she said, and she flew so smoothly with me in her arms that it was like we were gliding on rails.

  “Ultra Lady…I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I was just…” I finally managed to make my mouth work as she coasted near the corner of a rooftop and gently dropped me onto it.

  “You were just looking for Jack Titan’s soul, right?” Ultra Lady said with a sly smirk on her face as she touched down on the roof in front of me.

  “Heh…it sounded cooler in my head. But yeah, I’m trying to figure out who stole a box of everything my dad collected from his superhero career. A lifetime of pictures, countless mementos, thousands of pages documenting Jack Titan’s every adventure in his own words…” I stopped talking as I watched the fire fighters spray down the Z-Ray Lounge, and it occurred to me that I was literally watching my last hope of finding that trophy room box go up in grayish blue smoke.

  “I know, Spectacle. I heard your conversation with Mistress Gorgon. Ultra-hearing, remember?” Ultra Lady touched my arm while I looked down at the smoldering strip club. It must have been obvious to her how hopeless I felt in that moment.

  “Don’t worry. Mistress Gorgon made it out…that immortal bitch always does, probably with a mini-teleporter because I can’t see her with my Ultra-Vision anymore. I’m sure she’ll be back at her superhuman trafficking ring in a matter of weeks, and when she surfaces, we’ll be there, and you’ll get what you’re looking for from her.”

  “Yeah,” I said as the firefighters ushered coughing strippers out of the Z-Ray Lounge, including the three deadly minxes who were just about to slaughter me. There was no sign of Mistress Gorgon.

  “Even though you just ruined months of undercover work, and believe me, I’m gonna be pissed at you for that for a while, I gotta say…I’m still pretty impressed. When I came to talk to you, what was it, almost half a year ago? You were…not doing so great. Wallowing in self-pity, living at the bottom of a bottle, fighting legions of supervillain scrubs instead of dealing with your dad’s death…and that deal Mistress Gorgon offered you? Seriously, I’m proud of you for turning that down. That couldn’t have been easy, especially for you.”

  “Especially for me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Ultra Lady laughed. She grasped a small golden locket she had around her neck, and she clicked it open. Her iconic red and white costume burst out of the tiny locket and expanded to full size. She became a super speed fog of colors, I blinked, and there she was, standing in her full Ultra Lady costume like she had just stepped out of a Superb 6 meeting on their satellite headquarters. Her seared, skimpy Doc Hyper stripper disguise was strewn on the rooftop like a discarded butterfly cocoon.

  “There’s this charity dinner at the Kirby Museum of Superhero History, I can get you in as my plus one. We can talk about this search for Jack Titan’s legacy, discuss your next move,” she said naturally, as if her transformation into Ultra Lady, the Indestructible Woman, the Lady of the Future, was the most mundane and normal thing in the world.

  “You hungry, Spectacle?”

  Chapter 10: Museums and Prisons

  Paparazzi swarmed around the Kirby Museum of Superhero History. There was a line of limousines leading back four blocks. Spot lights dotted the corners of the building and lit up the sky with beams of swaying light. Armies of fans assembled behind red velvet ropes with their glowing phones raised high above their heads. Many of them had signs saying things like “Marry me Anhur!” “#queenquantumforpresident,” and “BringBackDocHyper.com”. They were so loud, like giant ocean waves crashing against the rocks. I strained to keep my eyes open as the sea of cameras flashed endlessly. A steady stream of superheroes in costumes and obscenely expensive designer dresses and suits flowed into the museum while the feeding frenzy of fans hysterically screamed for their attention. These public superhero events are easy to watch on TV. In person¸ they’re a full blown assault on the senses.

  Ultra Lady flew with me in her arms right to the front of the red carpet and bypassed the line of limousines. As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, she then proceeded to gracefully strut down the red carpet radiating confidence while I walked with her and stumbled over my own feet. I was dumbstruck by the flashing cameras and the screaming and the overwhelming insanity of it all, and the contrast between the uncomfortable look on my face and her natural, charismatic smile must have been hilarious.

  “Try to relax,” she whispered to me as she linked her arm with mine and smiled for the cameras. She waved a white gloved hand, and I did my best to pretend like I wasn’t having a panic attack.

  The Kirby Museum of Superhero History is built like a fortress. It’s a thick, sturdy block of a building, and it’s isolated from the surrounding buildings with a space that used to be filled by a twenty foot high wall. It used to be the Wertham Superhuman Correctional Facility, a prison built in the late 60’s to deal with the surge in the superhuman population from the creation and widespread use of SUHP. Back then, society looked at all superhumans l
ike they were drug addicts. Hundreds of thousands of superhumans across America served out long prison sentences in places like this, whether they were addicted to SUHP or they had used it just once. A lot of these people were dangerous individuals who deserved to be behind bars, but the vast majority were guilty of nothing more than being born with superhuman potential. The world’s changed a lot since then, and the government doesn’t treat all superhumans like criminals anymore. Still, when I walked arm and arm with Ultra Lady towards that foreboding cube of a building, when we stepped through its massive metal doors, it felt like stepping into prison.

  We passed through the three foot thick, titanium reinforced walls, and we waded into a flood of colors that instantly washed away my dread. The interior of the building was the complete opposite of its gray stronghold exterior. A legion of vibrantly colored costumes stood in glass cases around the entrance of the museum, as if the spirits of all the superheroes that had come before us were protecting this place. They posed proudly in their glass cases, with their flowing capes and gaudy logos and dazzling spandex, like they were just waiting for someone to put them on and pick up where their previous owners left off.

  “I’ve never been here before,” I said softly, and Ultra Lady chuckled at the obvious amazement in my voice.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I’ve been here a bunch of times…the Superb 6 throws these fundraiser banquets all the time,” she said, and guided me through the aisles of superhero costumes standing guard over the entrance. The main hall of the museum was filled with a grid of tables, each of which was set with the finest plates and silverware, and I looked up as we walked to our table.

  There were a dozen floors of exhibits that circled the walls of the building all the way up to its ceiling. The way that the floors of the building were like balconies around a cavernous main room was a feature left over from its days as a panopticon prison. It was designed that way so that the inmates would feel like they were always being observed in their prison cells, but this place didn’t feel like a prison at all. It felt like a temple.

  The Superb 6’s original satellite headquarters hung on wires from that domed, cathedral-like ceiling where the prison guard’s watchtower used to stand. The blue and chrome satellite was the sparkling crown jewel of the museum. It gently rotated as if it was still floating in orbit above the Earth, and there were still heroes up there, watching over us all. It was surrounded by the open floors of the building which overflowed with artifacts from throughout superhero history, and the way that they were open on the center of the building allowed you to look up and drink it all in.

  There was a floor devoted to all the tools of the crimefighting trade. There was every type of utility belt imaginable; from the bulky pouch covered belts, to the sleek metallic belts, to the laughably impractical belts that strapped onto the bicep. There was a whole wall of grappling hooks, tasers and tranquilizer darts and tracking devices in the silly shape of superhero symbols, smoke grenades and night vision goggles and kevlar costume linings, there were beautiful, brightly colored shields gleaming under the fluorescent lights. There was anything and everything that crimefighters used in their life long mission to save as many lives as they could.

  The floor above it was dedicated to all of the superheroes who had fallen in the line of duty. Every superhero who had sacrificed their life so that others could live, they were all up there. Some of them just had a small plaque with a picture and a little blurb detailing their lives, as if an entire life could ever be distilled into a few short paragraphs. Others had statues that immortalized them forever in cold bronze, and row after row of them looked down on us with eyes that silently wondered if we would do the same thing, if we would surrender our lives to stop the death and suffering of innocent people.

  The whole history of superheroes was in that museum, and it was truly humbling. It’s easy to get caught up in the thrill of being a superhero. It’s easy to lose yourself in the money and the attention and the adrenaline rush and all the bullshit that comes with costumed crimefighting, but this place, this temple honoring all things superhero, it was wonderful. It was like a sacred shrine to that silly idea, that ridiculous but beautiful idea of putting on a colorful costume and saying “You know what? No more. If you want to hurt these people, you have to hurt me first. And if I have to, I’ll die to stop you. I’d gladly die so that no one has to hurt anymore.”

  I sat down at the table for two with Ultra Lady. She looked at the little card with her name on it, and then she looked at me and laughed. She could see that I wasn’t just amazed by the museum itself. I was also star struck by the superheroes seated all around us at their own tables. These were the greatest superheroes in the world, some of the most famous and powerful people alive. It was like sitting down to eat at a restaurant with all the mythological gods and heroes of every culture on earth.

  Only a few feet away, Beyond Man and Queen Quantum were chatting at their table as their children, Beyond Girl and Prince Quantum, typed furiously on their Teen Superb smartphones. Sleight of Hand, dressed in a dark purple three piece suit, was charming his entourage of young supermodels. He gestured with his luminous magic wand to punctuate the punchline of an elaborate joke about The Immaterial Man’s obsession with collecting commemorative coins. Doc Hyper, who had on his streamlined, aerodynamic costume even though he was retired, buzzed around the room at super speed like a hummingbird, snatching hor d’oeuvres and downing drinks. Anhur was sitting at the open bar with Supra and they were drinking what seemed like gallons of top of the line champagne. They traded stories about fighting The Abnormalite, and Anhur laughed that thunderous laugh of his that echoed throughout the main hall of the museum.

  “Spectacle, get a hold of yourself, man,” Ultra Lady joked as I gawked at everything and everyone around me.

  “Sorry, sorry. You must be so used to all of this.”

  “I am, as much as anyone, but you never get totally used to it. It really is something, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, yeah it is. And you’re a part of it now, with joining the Superb 6.”

  “I guess I am, but it never really feels that way. It just feels like a job. Anyway,” Ultra Lady paused for a moment while she looked through the menu. I opened mine and perused the list of gourmet items, half of which I couldn’t pronounce.

  “So you had a box of all the things your dad collected over his superhero career, and someone stole it? Do you have any idea who could be responsible?” Ultra Lady asked as she clapped her menu shut.

  I told Ultra Lady about everything that I had been through in my search for my father’s trophy room, except for the particularly embarrassing parts. I don’t know if it was her Ultra-Hearing picking up on the tiny alterations in my heart rate, but somehow, she knew. She knew that I left out a lot of important details, details of how hard it had been for me to pursue this line of investigation when it would have been much easier to just forget about my father’s death and move on with my life.

  “I never would have thought that visiting you and talking some sense into you would start this crazy journey you’ve been on. On the other hand, you’ve clearly got a problem with your strategy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re being led around by your nose. You just react, you know? You just follow one lead to the next. You go somewhere because of a tiny clue, someone gives you a tip, and then you blindly chase after it to the next tip. You’ve got to be more proactive.”

  “…fair enough,” I replied. She had a point.

  “What would you suggest, though? There are so many people who could have stolen that box. Jack Titan had a lot of enemies. The list is practically endless.”

  “You’re right, your dad fought a lot of supervillains. Any one of them could be behind this. I want to say it’s The Punster, but it couldn’t be him. He’s so old. And he doesn’t have any superpowers, unless you count really annoying wordplay as a superpower.”

  “I thought The Punster was dead?�
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  “A lot of people think that, but he’s actually on the Superb 6 watchlist…but he’s been quiet for so long we’re confident that he’s retired. It could be The Shill, he hated Jack Titan, and he’s still active. Or it really could just be as simple as some obsessed collector who wanted that stuff for his collection, who didn’t want it ending up behind glass in a place like this.”

  “I was so close, Ultra Lady. Mistress Gorgon set up the buy for someone else, someone who didn’t want to leave a trail. If I could have just got her to give me what she knew—”

  “See, this is what I’m talking about. You’re too passive about this thing. If you want to make it as a superhero, you’re going to have to learn to stop relying on people to give you what you want. Nobody is going to give you anything.” I raised my eyebrows at this little speech of hers.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just…come on. Isn’t that a little…self-helpy?”

  “Maybe. What I’m trying to say is that you should have expected Mistress Gorgon to do what she did. That’s the predictable move for her. That’s the game. The question you have to ask yourself is what’s your next move?”

  I felt like Ultra Lady was being condescending, but I also knew that she was much better at this superhero thing than I was. She was only a few years older than me, but she was the youngest superhero to join the Superb 6 since they were founded. She was on her way to becoming one of the all time greatest superheroes, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she had an exhibit in that museum one day all to herself. So I held back my admittedly immature urge to tell her she was being patronizing, and seriously considered her advice.