It's A Bird! It's A Plane!

by Steve Beaulieu

  A smile broadened George’s face as the cries and cheers swelled to a deafening roar. They shouted his name again.

  “Mighty Man! Mighty Man!”

  He was no longer George Rehoboam Peters. He was a hero—and not just any hero; he was Mighty Man, the greatest champion his city had ever known.

  • • •

  “Alert, alert!” The feminine voice of V.A.L.O.R., the artificial intelligence responsible for monitoring criminal activity in Bright City, echoed from the speakers built into Mighty Man’s enormous bedroom.

  Mighty Man leapt up from the super king-sized bed. “What is it, V.A.L.O.R.?”

  “I’ve just received reports of seismic activity downtown.” A hologram of a slim brunette outfitted in colorful, revealing latex appeared on his bedside screen.

  He dashed to the console beside the window. “Could it be the Earth Master?”

  “It appears to be concentrated beneath First Bright City Bank and Trust.”

  “The villain!” Mighty Man pounded his fist on the tabletop and winced at the crack of wood, steel, and electronic components. Even after a week, he had yet to master his superhuman strength.

  “The BCPD have cordoned off the area, but they won’t move in for fear the Earth Master will open a sinkhole again.”

  Mighty Man puffed up. “Tell them to stay back, V.A.L.O.R. Mighty Man’s on the job!”

  • • •

  “Thank you, Mighty Man!” Police Commissioner Denton pumped his hand. “You’ve saved a lot of lives today.”

  Mighty Man grinned. “All in a day’s work, Commissioner.” He nodded toward Earth Master, who lay unconscious, surrounded by a squad of DEPA agents. Even as he spoke, Agent O’Malley slapped a pair of power-dampening cuffs on the prone villain, a pathetically dirty, balding, and paunchy man with skin ghost-white from living underground. “We’ll take it from here. He won’t be breaking out of the Stockade anytime soon.”

  “Woohoo, go Mighty Man!” A crowd of young men in uncomfortably deep-cut tank tops emblazoned with ‘Alpha Sigma Tau, we do life our way!’ shouted from a nearby restaurant. The boisterous youths on their downtown bar hop had ruined many of George’s nights, but Mighty Man basked in the praise.

  With a crisp salute, he leapt into the air and sped away from the crime scene to the cheers of the people below.

  • • •

  “I must congratulate you, Mighty Man.” Dr. Patel applauded. “In the last two months, you’ve apprehended Earth Master, The Yellow Whistler, and Captain Hammerhead. You seem to be taking to your abilities well.”

  Mighty Man grinned and raised his champagne flute. “It’s all thanks to you at Power Broker Labs, Dr. Patel. Your serum is marvelous.”

  “Indeed.” The doctor emptied his glass and set it on the conference table. “How are you feeling? Any side effects?”

  Mighty Man shook his head. “None.” He didn’t count insomnia as a side effect. He had so much energy to burn protecting the city; so far he hadn’t noticed anything wrong with a few hours of sleep each night.

  “Good.” Dr. Patel checked something on his clipboard. “Any psychological changes since undergoing the procedure?” He raised an eyebrow. “Depression? Anxiety? Stress?”

  “Are you kidding?” Mighty Man laughed. “I’ve never felt better!”

  To demonstrate, he flew out the conference room window, circled the building, and landed on the carpeted floor with hardly a thump.

  Dr. Patel chuckled. “Good. Well, it seems like the serum is working, and thanks to you Bright City has never been safer.”

  “Oh, I’m just getting started! I’ve got my eye set on taking them all down. First, Captain Destruct-O. After him, I’ve got a plan for finding Doctor Mastermind…”

  • • •

  Glass shards peppered the far wall as Mighty Man crashed through the window. Wiping a trickle of blood from his split lip, he leapt to his feet and flew at the colossal robot destroying the Business District. He had to stop Captain Destruct-O from unleashing his death ray on Bright City Stadium and killing the thousands of football fans gathered to cheer on the Capes.

  Metallic laughter boomed from speakers set into the robot’s head. “You won’t stop me this time, Mighty Man! The upgrades to my Destruct-O-Bot render it impervious to your most powerful punches.”

  “I don’t think so!” Mighty Man smiled as he caught sight of a familiar flaming red Porsche—Mr. Henderson’s pride and joy. The vehicle had mocked him every time he drove past in the rattling Ford Fiesta junker he’d driven for fifteen years.

  Swooping down, he gripped the car in one hand and slammed it into the robot’s enormous knee joint. The metal monster staggered, arms flailing as Captain Destruct-O fought for balance. A huge hand crashed through the top four floors of the Grandiose Corp building. Mighty Man laughed; he had to hope Mr. Henderson had been working in his office. The red Porsche crumpled as he drove it into the robot’s other knee.

  “Noooooo!!!” Captain Destruct-O shouted as the metal giant toppled backward.

  Mighty Man’s heart stopped. Hundreds of people that had gathered on the street to watch the brawl were in danger of being crushed. He had a split second to act.

  With every shred of speed, he dived toward the ground and surged up to catch the falling robot. He grunted beneath the impact. Metal groaned and twisted, the robotic limbs sparking as they crashed to the street.

  Silence hung thick in the air. For a moment, it seemed Bright City held its breath. Then a roar broke from the gathered people. Mighty Man hovered a mere ten feet off the ground, the enormous robot resting on his broad shoulders.

  “Mighty Man! Mighty Man!” The crowd cheered his name even as they rushed to clear the way.

  Gritting his teeth against the strain, Mighty Man set his burden down. Air hissed from the robotic head; Captain Destruct-O was trying to flee!

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” Mighty Man snapped off one of the robotic arms and brought it down atop the escape capsule detaching from the fallen giant. “Justice may be blind, but I’m not.” He thought that quite a clever line; he’d worked on it for the last few days.

  Sirens blared and the BCPD officers scrambled over the wreckage of Captain Destruct-O’s escape pod.

  A police officer lifted his hat in salute. “We’ve got it from here, Mighty Man!”

  With a nod, Mighty Man turned toward the crowd. “Is anyone hurt?”

  “I might be!” A buxom blonde in a floral summer dress pushed through the crowd. “I think you need to check me for injuries.”

  Mighty Man raised an eyebrow in appreciation. The “MM” tattooed across her ample chest marked her as one of the Mighty Misses, his own personal fan group. His encounters with them had proven…interesting in the past. A smile broadened his lips. Perks of the job, I guess.

  Something caught his eye. A red-haired woman in a purple dress stood near the back of the crowd. Mighty Man started. Doris? He hadn’t thought of her once since the day he won the lottery. Before he could say anything, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  He almost went after her. The blonde tugging on his bicep kept him rooted to the spot.

  “Well?” She raised a suggestive eyebrow.

  Mighty Man smiled. “If you’d like, I could give you a thorough examination somewhere more private.”

  “Mighty Tower, perhaps?” She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. “I’ve got something to make it a real party.”

  • • •

  Mighty Man gasped as the white powder burned down his nose and throat. He’d never tried cocaine before—George Peters hadn’t been able to afford it—but now he couldn’t get enough of it. Though the effects only lingered a few minutes, he reveled in the sensation while it lasted.

  This was a new sort of high. It reminded him of the first time he’d tested his power of flight. But instead of the rush of the wind through his hair, energy rushed through him in waves of fire. He felt as if he could defeat every villain in Bright City i
n one day!

  “Don’t tell me my superhero is already tired?” The blonde—Mandy or Mary, he couldn’t remember—pulled off the sheet, giving him a generous eyeful of her curves.

  Mighty Man smiled and took another bump. “I’m just getting warmed up!”

  He’d taken a single step toward the bed when the alert on his computer monitor blared. “Warning, warning!” The feminine voice of V.A.L.O.R. echoed in the room. “Doctor Mastermind’s goon squad has invaded City Hall and taken Mayor Hinton captive.”

  Mighty Man hesitated. He knew he should respond to the call and fly to the rescue, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the woman in his bed.

  V.A.L.O.R. spoke again. “I have that data you requested, Mighty Man. You were right.”

  All thoughts of Malia or Mona —whatever her name was —flew from his head. He scanned the information V.A.L.O.R. displayed on the screen and pumped his fist in triumph. With a sigh and one last glance at the languid figure stretched out on the sheets, he flew from the room.

  • • •

  “You haven’t heard the last of me, Mighty Man!” Doctor Mastermind’s shrill voice cut through the crowd’s cheers. “My master stroke will come when you least expect it!”

  The door to the D.E.P.A. Superpowered Prisoner Transport vehicle slammed shut, cutting off the rest of the supervillain’s ramblings.

  “Mighty Man, over here!”

  Mighty Man turned in time to have a camera and microphone shoved into his face.

  “Connie Kim, Channel 18 News. All of us are eager to know: how do you find the time to do it all? In the last six months since you’ve captured Captain Hammerhead, you’ve put away nearly twenty other villains. Now, you track down and capture Doctor Mastermind himself. How did you do it?”

  Mighty Man grinned. “A wise man once said, ‘Follow the money’, Connie. So that’s exactly what I did.” He puffed up his chest; his accounting skills had come in handy. “Commissioner Denton and I worked together to trace where Doctor Mastermind’s goon squad was getting their money. I won’t bore you with the details, but they led us right to the bank accounts opened under Doctor Mastermind’s secret identity: Judge Bill Reynard.”

  The reporter’s face paled. “Doctor Mastermind, a judge?”

  “A fearful thought, indeed, Connie.” He turned his smile full into the cameras. “But have no fear, citizens of Bright City. You can rest easy knowing the supervillain is behind bars.”

  “There you have it, folks. Mighty Man has done the impossible and defeated his archnemesis. He’s fast, he’s strong, and he’s super-intelligent—Bright City’s own defender!”

  The cameraman gave a thumbs up.

  “Thank you, Mighty Man.” Connie smiled up at him. “Maybe one of these days I could get an exclusive with you?” She leaned forward, giving him a glimpse of the “MM” tattooed just beneath her shirt’s neckline.

  He winked. “I’m sure something could be arranged.”

  • • •

  Mighty Man rolled over and placed a pillow over his head, but the pounding on his door persisted.

  “Mighty Man, open the door!”

  Groaning, Mighty Man climbed out of bed and took a quick snort of the powder piled on V.A.L.O.R.’s console. Fire burned the back of his throat and energy surged through him.

  He pulled the door open. “What?”

  Displeasure showed plain on Dr. Patel’s face. “I’ve come for your monthly check-up. You’ve missed the last three.”

  “I don’t need any stupid physical or psych exam.” He tensed his enormous bicep. “See? Never felt better. Now go away before you wake up my guests.”

  Dr. Patel tried to peer into the room, but Mighty Man’s bulk blocked the view of the three women tangled in his sheets.

  “I must be certain the serum isn’t having—“

  “Forget about it, doc. I’m feeling great.” The cocaine flowing through his bloodstream helped with that. “Bright City has never been safer, so I don’t need your silly questions. I’m happy, no depression or anxiety, and I’m as strong as ever.”

  He closed the door in Dr. Patel’s face before he could speak. The doctor’s protests went unheard as Mighty Man filled his nostrils with more cocaine.

  • • •

  “Alert, alert!” V.A.L.O.R.’s artificial voice pierced the muddle in Mighty Man’s head. “Mastermind alert.”

  Mighty Man swatted at the console. He’d captured Doctor Mastermind three months ago— V.A.L.O.R. had to be broken.

  He ignored the blaring alarm, but it persisted.

  “Shut up, V.A.L.O.R.!”

  “Alert, alert!” V.A.L.O.R.’s tone grew more strident. “Explosions have gone off around the city, and the bombs register as containing Quintillium.”

  That caught Mighty Man’s attention. He lifted his head, groaning at the pounding ache in his skull, and blinked at the bedside monitor. Four red blips showed on the screen.

  “You sure it was Quintillium? Doctor Mastermind has been locked up for—“

  “Three months, two weeks, and four days.” V.A.L.O.R. spoke in a tone surprisingly snippy for a computer. “But my sensors don’t lie. The bombs contain Quintillium, Doctor Mastermind’s explosive of choice.”

  Mighty Man rolled from the bed onto unsteady legs. He blinked to stop the world spinning and searched for a glass of water for his parched throat. His mouth felt as stuffed with wool as his head. No way he’d be able to save the city like this.

  “Let the police handle it.”

  “BCPD is already on the scene of the explosions, as is BCFD. But they are requesting your aid in controlling the fires.”

  Mighty Man sighed. “Fine.”

  His eyes fell on the lines of green powder on the table. He’d take a hit of the new drug—a highly potent mixture of synthetic methamphetamine and cocaine one of the Mighty Misses had brought—one last time.

  Why do I have to do everything in Bright City? One of these days, the pitiful people had to learn how to protect themselves.

  • • •

  Mighty Man hovered a hundred feet in the air, petrified. Screams of panic and fear filled the air as explosions rocked Bright City. He could do nothing but watch, horrified, as people leapt from crumbling skyscrapers.

  “Mighty Man!” V.A.L.O.R. squawked in his earpiece. “You need to do something!”

  His mind, befuddled by the lingering effects of the drugs, struggled to respond to the threats all around. Just as he dove to catch a falling woman, two more people tumbled from a collapsing building. He couldn’t stop it! He couldn’t save them all!

  Carnage and chaos swept through Bright City, and he had no idea where to begin.

  “Mighty Man!” the AI shouted. “Move, now. There are people trapped atop the Grandiose Corp Building. They need you.”

  The familiar name pierced his horror-numbed thoughts. Doris!

  He shot through the city, dodging crumbling buildings, ignoring the cries for help. He wanted to save everyone but had to save Doris.

  Grandiose Corp’s shining tower rose in the distance, a massive hole ripped into its façade. Dozens of people stood on the rooftop. They screamed and waved as he zoomed toward them. He scanned the crowd—no Doris!

  He couldn’t leave them to die. He carried them to safety in groups of twos and threes, always returning for more. As he flew, he turned his X-ray vision on the enormous skyscraper, searching, desperate. He’d recognize the slight abnormal curvature of Doris’ spine—the result of her scoliosis—anywhere.

  But something was wrong! He squinted as his vision suddenly returned to normal. He tried again, concentrated harder, but his X-ray vision refused to work.

  Damn it! He’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.

  He swooped through the collapsing high-rise, catching falling debris, saving those he could see with his normal human vision.

  A woman screamed, pinned beneath an enormous metal beam. Mighty Man darted toward her and seized the beam in his powerful grip.
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  “Don’t worry, ma’am. You’ll be out of here in no—“

  The beam refused to budge. He heaved, his enormous muscles bunching. Slowly, with the groan of twisting metal and shifting concrete, he lifted it enough for her to squirm out from beneath.

  What’s wrong with me? The ache in his head had to come from the drugs. So why were his powers failing him?

  The skyscraper collapsed atop him, burying him in ten floors’ worth of rubble. He hurled himself upward and poured all his strength and power of flight into it. The debris shifted slightly.

  “Migh…Man…you need…out…there!” V.A.L.O.R. crackled in his earpiece.

  “I can’t hear you,” he shouted, a hint of panic in his voice. With his powers, he should have no problem escaping.

  He drove his shoulder into the rubble. Concrete clattered aside and a pinprick of light pierced the darkness.

  “You need to get out of there, Mighty Man!” the AI shouted. “The serum’s effects will be gone any minute.”

  Horror frozen Mighty Man in place. No!

  “Did you hear me? I said—“

  “I—I heard you, V.A.L.O.R.” His voice sounded so weak—like George’s voice.

  Desperation surging within him, he scrabbled at the obstructing debris, widening the gap until he could crawl out. He emerged, gasping fresh air, and coughed the dust from his lungs. Blood trickled from dozens of cuts—shredded concrete, shards of glass, and twisted rebar had pierced his once-invulnerable skin.

  Fear buried an icy knife in his gut. He stood on the 35th floor; the street seemed a long way down. For a moment, he felt something he hadn’t in months: helplessness. Without his Mighty Man powers, he was as trapped as the ordinary people. And no one would come to rescue him.

  • • •

  George sat on the ratty, food-stained couch in his old apartment, his eyes never leaving the blank TV screen before him. The face that stared back at him bore no resemblance to the George Peters he remembered. Folds of skin formed jowls that drooped beyond his chin, and bags hung thick and dark under his bleary eyes.