by Lucia Ashta
“There’s nothing left for me to live for.”
Z huffed, blowing his wavy dark hair from his forehead. “Of course there is. Beyond our friendship, and that with the others, there are many, many good people in this world. Befriend some. Get to know them. Maybe even fall in love.”
“Why would I do that? So I can watch them grow old, suffer, and die? Over and over again? No, man. I’ve done that enough times to last me an eternity. I can’t take it anymore. I won’t do it.”
Once more, Z didn’t respond at first. What could he say? He’d loved and lost more times than I, and this was one thing that didn’t get easier with experience.
“Okay then,” he said. “Then immerse yourself in saving others. Find satisfaction in fulfilling your purpose.”
“My purpose?” I cackled. “You’re deluded. You really think I have a purpose after all this time?”
“Of course I do,” he snapped. Z might be pious, but he was no saint. He was losing his patience.
Good, I thought. I wanted him on edge. I needed him there if I was going to get him to do what I wanted him to.
“You need to get over yourself, Nic. You have a purpose. An important one. You get to save lives, in vast numbers, if you choose. That’s a privilege not many have.”
I stared back at him, expressionless.
“We started out as seekers. Remember that? All those centuries ago?”
“Of course. Just because I want you to kill me doesn’t mean my brain’s gone soft.” I didn’t even know if it could. We hadn’t changed or aged a day since that freak electric storm. If only I’d been fit then. If only I’d devoted as much time to my body as I had to my prayers, maybe I would’ve enjoyed my life more in the endless days since then. Maybe I’d be N-Man instead of a dough boy.
“Well,” he continued, “we found what we were seeking. It found us. We found purpose in life, completely different than anything we could have imagined. Something far greater. We possess the power to spare humanity its grief.”
“Not all of it,” I grumbled.
“No, not all of it. But we can make a difference. You can make a difference. A huge one. And no matter what you say, that’s a wonderful thing.”
I had to give Zedekiah credit. Even after all these years, he could still give a pep talk like the best of them. I looked at him and smiled a bit. He misinterpreted my appreciation of a friend for something it wasn’t.
He kept going, misguided in his encouragement. “You’re just not yourself right now. You’ll get over this... well, whatever this is, and then you’ll be your usual self, saving the world and sparing people from unnecessary tragedy. You’ll remember that you’re a god among men and that ending your life prematurely would be the worst tragedy of them all.”
I jumped on one word. “‘Prematurely?’ Are you serious? We’ve lived for thousands of years, so many that I tired of keeping count. Human beings aren’t meant to live this long. It’s not natural.”
“That’s right. It’s divine.”
“It’s an unnatural aberration, that’s what it is. This”—I ran a hand up and down my body—“isn’t normal. This isn’t a divine gift. It’s a freak accident, and we are freaks.”
“Uh. As if.”
I would’ve smiled at how well Zedekiah had assimilated the simple-minded expressions of the day—if only I’d been in the mood.
Z flexed in his spandex, displaying all of his sides as if the images of his perfection weren’t fused into my brain by centuries of alternating jealousy and resignation. He said, “We’re awesome, intentionally so. We can fly, Nic. We can lift things a thousand people all together can’t. If not for us, the great pyramids wouldn’t exist. They’d have managed no more than a hut. We can run faster than the fastest animal. We’re nearly impossible to kill. And more! So much more!”
“Yes, Z, I’m quite aware of what we can and can’t do.”
He stopped flexing and looked at me seriously. “All I’m saying is that this is no accident. We’re made this way. On purpose. We’re the mystery factor injected into the world to bring balance. There are so many supervillains out there, people with and without powers that mean harm.”
“I know,” I interrupted. “Now I’m one of them.”
“Wha—? You’re being ridiculous.”
“Who do you think messed with those planes you flew in to save today, huh? You must’ve known it was me.”
Z looked like what a boy dressed in spandex would look like if he was caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
“What, you just thought you’d gloss over that little fact?” I said. “You didn’t think me nearly killing plane loads of people was important?”
Z hesitated, flustered. “That’s not you. I know it, and you know it.” He avoided my eyes. “You’ll get past this phase. You get past everything. You’re amazing. You’re just not yourself.”
“Would you stop saying that? Would you stop saying a different variation of the same damned thing over and over?” I snapped then rubbed the bridge of my nose. Now it was my turn to avoid his eyes. I needed to do whatever was necessary to get him to see me as evil so he could end me. But I couldn’t do that while looking into his friendly green eyes, especially not when I was going to have to take it up another level. Clearly, my plan wasn’t working as well as I’d hoped.
He leveled his head and stuck out his square jaw. “You’re not even wearing your normal clothes. What is this? Are you now a hipster?”
“Excuse me for not enjoying a spandex wedgie up my butt every single day of my long life.” I sighed heavily. “Look, Z, I love ya, man, and I appreciate all that you’re trying to do. But I’m done. I’m totally done. I don’t want anything more to do with a life that never ends and continues on only to torment me. I’m completely, one hundred percent decided. So either kill me now or kill me later, let’s get on with it. But really, kill me now. That’s what I want.”
“This is about Mercedes, isn’t it? You never got over her death.”
“No. Yes. It’s not just about Mercedes, it’s about all of them, about everyone I’ve lost, and every new person I’ll meet that’ll die. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t. I’m broken. If I continue on any longer, I’m going to unleash my brokenness on the world. And you don’t want all that blood on your hands, do you?”
I wasn’t being fair, and I realized it. I didn’t even know if I believed everything I said the way I said it. But it didn’t matter. None of it did. Torment had been having her way with me for long enough. If I could go back and warn all the explorers that searched for a river of paradise or fountain of youth or some other fabled thing that promised a reversal of the aging process, or all the alchemists that sought the Philosopher’s Stone, I’d scream at the top of my lungs about the truth of immortality. It was the biggest trick of all. Death was the blessing, not eternal life. Immortality was worse than fool’s gold. It damned you.
“Please just kill me,” I said, tired. “You know I can’t die of natural causes. It’s going to take a superhero to kill me.”
“All this ridiculous fuss, and for all you know, a superhero might not be able to kill you. None of us have ever died.”
“I realize that, Z. Again, not soft minded.” I tapped my temple.
“What makes you think I could even kill you?”
“Dammit. Knock it off. Are we going to theorize all damn day, or will you do as I ask you already, as a dear friend?”
Z’s nostrils flared suddenly. “Oh, so now you’re my ‘dear friend?’ You’d condemn my eternal soul by having me commit murder?”
“You’ve killed supervillains before. You’ve killed evil people that hurt others.”
“Exactly. Supervillains. Evil. You’re neither.”
“I am too a supervillain.” I crossed my arms across my chest.
“Since when?”
“Since today. I almost killed two entire planes full of people.”
“But you didn’t. You wouldn’t have.”
“I may have killed a young mother, her infant child, and two flight attendants desperately trying to save them both,” I boasted, hearing myself and trying hard not to wonder if maybe I had lost my mind somewhere along the grit of the centuries.
Z whirled on me, hands balled into fists at his sides. “You didn’t.”
“I don’t know. I might have. They fell on top of each other when I tilted the plane, and I heard a crunching, snapping sound,” I said as nonchalantly as I was capable of behaving.
Zedekiah’s mouth parted slightly in horror.
“See.” I started pacing too, pausing to punctuate my words at poignant times with significant looks. “I became a supervillain today. I did villainous things. And if you don’t kill me right now, then I’ll become even more of a supervillain. I’ll rival the worst of the worst of them in their misdeeds. My name—a proper one—will hang on everyone’s lips, where they’ll be afraid to let it slip out of fear that I might come for them. For every good deed you or the others do, I’ll commit ten acts of evil.”
He chuckled dismissively. “Nice show, Nic. But I’m not buying it. You’re not like that.”
“But I will be. If you make me.”
My words sent a chill even through me, and Z looked nervous for the first time.
“I’ll become Nicodemus the Unkillable Killer.”
“I hope that’s not the supervillain name you’re going to settle on, because it’s not much better than your current one, the Super Dough Man.” He tried to inject humor in his voice but failed.
“I’ll be the Unkillable Killer unless you kill me.”
“You do realize how ridiculous that statement is, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” I lied. “Do it now and it’ll be done with plenty of time for you to get back to whatever saving act you next have scheduled. You can get another spectacular display of your super strength in before the six o’ clock news and make it a double feature.”
Zedekiah drew up to his full height, which was significant compared to mine. He faced me squarely and his eyes bored into mine. “Let me make this clear to you. I will not, now or ever, kill you, my crazy bastard of a friend.” Truth dripped from his words.
My shoulders slumped. He’d never kill me. He’d never ease this empty void inside me. I’d be stuck with it for all eternity, or until such time as the power the lightning apparently conferred on us took back what didn’t belong to humans.
“So why don’t you stop with all this talk of nonsense and let’s go grab a beer or something? We have better things to do than stand in a field in the middle of nowhere debating whether or not I’ll kill you.” He barked in tight laughter. “Let’s fly to my place, I’ll change clothes and put on a baseball cap so no one’ll recognize me, and we’ll head over to The Beer Garden. Their local brews are almost as good as that mead we’d get in Victorian London, remember?”
How could I forget Victorian London? Or any other part of this endless life? My memories were what kept me human. However, I didn’t agree that there was anything worth emulating in Victorian London’s mead.
I was tempted to take Z up on his offer and forget about today and my newly acquired supervillain intentions. But then tomorrow would come, and it would be little different than today or the day before it.
I hurried to say something before Z could realize I was close to backing down. “Either you make the choice now and you kill me, or I’ll make you kill me.”
He brought his hands to his spandex-covered hips. “Oh yeah? And how do you think you’ll make me do that?”
“By causing havoc and raining destruction upon the world until you end it.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you’d better hope one of the others can because I won’t stop until one of you kills me. I’m the Unkillable Killer.
“You know what? I’m going to go ahead and call the others now.” He looked at me, calling my bluff.
But I wasn’t bluffing. “Go ahead and call them. I want you to.”
“Fine,” he said, sounding like a snarky teenager. “I’ll call them, then.”
“And how exactly will you do that?” I was genuinely curious.
“With my cell phone. Duh.”
I laughed, and man, did laughing feel good. “Listen to you, oh pious devoted monk. You’ve come a long way.”
Z-Man scowled. “Look away.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you to.”
“No way. You want me to turn around so you can fish your cell phone out, don’t you?”
“No. It’s for something else.”
It was totally to retrieve his cell phone. I grinned. “I have no idea where you might hide a cell phone in your getup. I’m not looking away.”
“And I’m not killing you,” he said, equally petulant.
“Fine,” I said.
“Fine,” he said, and then I got to enjoy watching him unfasten a small strip of Velcro across the back of his waist (even though he kept his back turned away from me) and pull out a small, sleek cell phone.
“Wow,” I said.
“Careful,” Z warned. “Not another word.”
Then he put his superhero thumb on the sensor, flicked his finger across the screen, and put the phone to his ear. The person on the other line picked up in seconds.
“Hey,” Z said, “I need some help.”
I recognized the person on the other end of the line. Germaine said, “Help with an emergency?”
“No, not that kind of help. I need your help with Nicodemus.”
“Nicodemus?”
“Yeah, Nicodemus. In fact, you should all come.”
“What could you possibly need all of us for? Can’t you and Nicodemus deal with the problem? You’re certainly capable of handling almost anything, and while Nicodemus isn’t, he can back you up.”
This was one of those moments when I wished part of my super powers wasn’t heightened hearing.
Z said, “Nicodemus says he’s becoming a supervillain unless we kill him.”
“What?” Germaine choked on the word.
“Yeah, he says he’s going to become the Unkillable Killer unless we kill him.”
Germaine ground out a terse, “Where are you?” then listened to Z’s answer. “We’ll be there as soon as we can,” he said then disconnected the line.
I feared they were only coming to laugh at me. I had to strengthen my resolve in the half hour it would take Germaine to relay the directive and for all of them to fly here from the different continents.
I scowled at Zedekiah, who could have explained the seriousness of my request instead of what he did. I turned my back to him and closed my eyes. I had thirty minutes to pull myself together so that my plea might convince nine superheroes as old and experienced as we were.
In proper superhero fashion, the other nine relegated to the same fate as Zedekiah and me exceeded my expectations. They arrived, alone or in pairs, before the thirty minutes had elapsed and before I could compose my resolve sufficiently to appear to be the fearsome Unkillable Killer on first sight.
Those that honored our ancientness greeted me with a forehead against mine and curious eyes. They must know they’d been summoned because of me. It hadn’t been the first time we’d congregated because of one of my mishaps. They likely imagined it was another one of my messes they were expected to clean up.
Zedekiah and Germaine were the only among us that welcomed the changing ways of the times with enthusiasm. They exchanged some fancy hand maneuvers that culminated in a fist bump. “What’s up, my man?” Germaine said. “It’s been a long time. You’re looking sharp as ever.”
Germaine flicked his first glance at me. It said what he didn’t. Z-Man was sharp in ways I never would be.
Z grinned despite the reason for our gathering. “You too, G-Man. You been working out?”
Germaine laughed happily. If I didn’t already know we lived virtually forever, I’d think conceit supplied Germaine with
long life. “It’s in my genes,” he said while he flexed muscles that bulged through green spandex. Genes were something relatively new to our understanding, as was spandex. Z-Man and G-Man made good use of both.
Germaine had been our unofficial leader since the beginning. Of all of us, he most loved telling others what to do. I steeled myself against what I knew was coming.
“So,” Germaine began, “what’s this about needing help with Nicodemus?” Even though I was standing right there, Germaine asked Zedekiah, not me.
Suddenly, Z looked nervous, and I couldn’t decide if it was for my benefit or his. “Nic’s asked me to kill him.”
“What?” several of the others said, clearly shocked.
G said, “And why would he do that?”
“He says he’s tired of living. That if I—we—don’t kill him, he’ll become the supervillain the Unkillable Killer and terrorize the world until he forces our hand.”
G chuckled. Only he could make the otherwise pleasant sound so ridiculing. He’d been making me feel smaller than an insect since we were still fragile monks at the mercy of the whims of life and interminable waves of raiders. “You can’t be serious,” he said. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I was in the middle of keeping a building from collapsing when you called—a skyscraper.” He turned resentful eyes on me. “I risked all those people’s lives over this. Another one of Nicodemus’ mess ups.”
G was staring straight at me, yet he referred to me in the third person.
“You know what,” I said, “I’m sick of you treating me in this condescending way, like you’re some magnanimous being that deigns to grace me with his presence instead of a buffoon in green spandex. Neon green. Neon anything is appalling. Did no one tell you that in your classes on how to be cool this century? You might have super powers, but guess what, I have them too. And I’m done, oh I’m so freaking done, with you treating me like I’m”—I waved my hand to include all of us, except perhaps Z—“like we are anything less than you. You’re a pompous ass, and I’m done with you. Done. Done. Done.”
G glared at me, sticking his chest out importantly. His outfit perfectly delineated his chest muscles and I resisted the nearly overpowering urge to stomp over to him and flick his erect nipples.