A Hero By Any Other Name

by Stackpole, Michael A.

  As I looked at my brother and realized just how much he really loved me, and more surprising still, just how much I loved him despite the short amount of time we’d known each other, I vowed then and there that no matter what, I’d never let anything happen to him.

  “Sim, thank you, brother—” at his frown I amended myself, “I mean bro, for helping me.”

  “I’ll always take care of you.” He straightened his cape before striking another heroic pose, one arm pointed up in the air. “Did you see me fly over their heads? I was like Superman!”

  “Superman?”

  “Oh my gosh, you don’t know about Superman? What the heck did they teach you back in Africa?” Before I could answer he threw an arm over my shoulders and led me back toward our row house. “You need to learn all about superheroes. I’ll even let you read my ‘Teen Titans’ comics if you promise to take good care of them.”

  “But I—”

  “Don’t worry, sis, I’ll help you read ‘em.”

  “And so, Miss Sparkle—”

  “It’s just Sparkle.”

  “What?” The Dung Beetle looks up at me, his confusion plain even behind his iridescent green eye mask. I stifle a laugh as I take in his ridiculous black armored segmented costume with eight fake legs hanging off the side in addition to his own two. I don’t bother telling him that the actual dung beetle, like all insects, has only six legs.

  The villains are getting desperate for “themes.” This is embarrassing.

  I sigh as I hang there, suspended over a vile pot of boiling nastiness with a rope tied around my sparkling silver knee high boots and matching unitard. “It’s just plain old Sparkle. No ‘Miss’.”

  “Well, Miss Plain Old Sparkle, perhaps you will not be so sassy after I dunk you in my dung soup! You and every other person in this city will smell so vile that I will finally smell like roses in comparison…”

  He continues on like this, but I tune him out, closing my eyes and focusing instead on Bryan as he flies here, not quite as fast as a speeding bullet, but still fast. My telekinesis has strengthened a lot since we were kids, especially since Bryan insisted on saving every person we met while growing up, constantly putting himself in some sort of danger. He still does, for that matter.

  But what can I do? He thinks he has super powers, and after the better part of fifteen years I simply can’t bring myself to tell him the truth. So I wait to be rescued, as yet another incompetent, petty “super villain” kidnaps me while my brother rushes in to save the day.

  Why oh why did I ever let him read me those darn superhero comics?

  Right on cue Bryan bursts through the wall that I blast open for him, bedecked in a red, white, and blue uniform, complete with a matching red cape. And just like his comic book hero, he has a big “S” embroidered on his chest. He’d hit a growth spurt during puberty and now with his height and near fanatical obsession with lifting weights, he definitely looks the part of a superhero.

  Before you can even say “Stupendous Man” he overpowers the Dung Beetle, ties him up, pulls me off the hook, and deposits me safely on the floor.

  Now it’s my turn. Bryan never gets why we have to do this part even though I have explained it to him about a bajillion times. The simple fact is if one of us doesn’t do this we’ll just be fighting these guys all over again tomorrow.

  Holding out my Metropolitan Police Department badge I recite, “You have the right to remain silent…”

  Bryan lowers us to the front of the district PD, and, never one for the paparazzi or autograph seekers, I drag the Dung Beetle inside the building while Bryan strikes an appropriately heroic pose for the reporters.

  “Stupendous Man, over here!”

  “No, no, over here!”

  The door closes behind me, cutting off the sound of screaming fans and flashes from phones.

  “Got another one for you, Chief.” I adjust my silver sparkling eye mask. It’s itchy, but essential for maintaining my secret identity, even if I am just a “sidekick.”

  Police Chief Hansen pops his head out of his office. “You read him his rights?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You tell him you were an officer of the law?”

  “Yeah.”

  Nodding to a frumpy desk clerk, he says, “Book him, Danno!”

  “My name’s not Danno, Chief.”

  But the Chief’s already back in his office, so I shrug at Johnny (aka Danno). “He’s all yours.”

  I turn to leave, but freeze when The Dung Beetle startles laughing maniacally. “She’s coming for you!”

  I really shouldn’t humor him, but something about this situation has seemed off from the start. “Who?”

  But The Dung Beetle just keeps laughing as Danno, I mean Johnny, leads him away.

  We land at our old row house on Eighth Street near Eastern Market. Yeah, we still live with our parents, but what are you gonna do? DC is expensive and being an intern at the Senate doesn’t pay much. Neither does superheroing for that matter. At least I get a small stipend from the MPD.

  “Wasn’t I awesome tonight, sis?” Bryan hands me a trench coat and I throw it over my shivering form. Spandex doesn’t do much to keep off the winter chill.

  “As always. Thanks for saving me. Again.” I belt the coat around me and fish out a key to the back door. Not that our parents have ever suspected our nighttime escapades, but you never can be too careful. What we really need is a secret lair.

  “Any time, sis. I’ll always take care of you.”

  “I know, bro.” I smile to myself as we walk inside and he pushes past me, making a beeline up the stairs for his room. “Whoa, where’s the fire?”

  “I gotta date!”

  I feel my stomach sink. Date? He can’t date! “We’ve been over this. What if something bad happens in the city?” My range isn’t infinite.

  “Then I’ll take care of it.”

  “Bro, no, you can’t—”

  He pauses at his doorknob and looks over his shoulder. “I can’t? Chei, I can do anything. I’m a superhero for goodness sakes!”

  “Grow up, you’re not him. He’s not real. He only exists in comics and movies.”

  “Duh! I’d prolly get sued or something if I tried to be him.” He blows out an irritated breath. “I’m Stupendous Man. And I don’t have heat vision or freeze breath. Totally different.” Then he gets serious, shakes his head and sighs. “You can’t keep hanging on my coattails, sis. It seems like all I do is save your sparkly butt these days.”

  He goes in his room, shutting the door solidly behind him and I stare at where he was. I should tell him the truth right then and there. Like I should have told him fifteen years ago. That he doesn’t really have super strength or the ability to fly. But I don’t. Instead I pull my sparkly wig off and go in my own room.

  Bryan doesn’t come back that night, or the next morning. I text him a couple times but he doesn’t respond.

  I go to Senator Burrows’s office and pick up the Chief of Staff’s coffee along the way. Because that’s what interns do. But hey, if my bringing Shauna a cup of coffee helps important legislation get passed I’m all for it.

  When I get to the office I’m not shocked to see Senator Burrows isn’t in—we’re not in session this week after all, but I am surprised that Shauna’s office door is closed. Her door is never closed. I always bring Shauna her coffee at 9:05 a.m. sharp—she hasn’t missed a day. I knock on the door tentatively and when I don’t hear anything I “look” inside with my mind and sense a person in there. A frightened person.

  It’s Shauna.

  I can’t read minds per se, but I can definitely recognize a person’s “sense” like a unique fingerprint. I creak the door open and there’s Shauna, lying across her desk, trussed up like a… like a… well, like a person who’s tied up and gagged.

  I run over, untie her hands, and then her gag and she starts… laughing?

  “Oh Sparkle, you’re so predictable!”

  Before I c
an register that she has said my sidekick name—the name only Bryan knows—she hits the “easy” button on her desk and the floor drops out from below me.

  Remember how I said that my telekinesis has gotten better? Well, I haven’t used it on myself in a long time, so I’ll admit that my reflexes are slow. I reach out to steady myself and slow my decent until I come to the ground with a soft click of my heels on the concrete floor.

  There are massive spider webs everywhere and a low blue light somewhere in the background casts an eerie glow everything. I dust off my simple gray pencil skirt, though it doesn’t need it, and peer into haze before me.

  On the other side of the space is a figure. A figure that’s been wrapped in many layers of the same webbing that’s draping this sub-basement deep in the bowels of the Capitol complex. I can’t see who it is clearly, but when I reach out with my mind I hiss in surprise.

  It’s Bryan, and he’s hurt.

  I reach out again with my mind and tear at the webbing encasing him while running toward him at the same time. His eyes fly open meeting mine, and there’s something in them, a warning look, but I don’t care, I just keep running, and then it hits me.

  Pain, pain like I have never experienced. Indescribable pain.

  I’m caught in a web, and based on the constant feeding of shocks I’m receiving, it’s an electrified web—

  “Designed just for you my dear, dear, Sparkle.”

  I can’t think, I can’t move, telekinesis is definitely out. I can barely shift my eyes in the direction of the raspy voice I know so well, just as another set of volts shock me.

  Out she came from a dark doorway, most likely leading her spidery den. Swathed in a simple gray body stocking, five-inch rose hued stilettos (she does love her Manolos), and a sparkling black tiara atop her head, Arania stands in all her glory.

  She was coming, The Dung Beetle had said. Well, at least I know who he meant.

  “Senator Burrows?” I rasp, another jolt of electricity running through me. “You’re… you’re Arania?”

  “The one and only.” She walks over to me, carefully placing one foot in front of the other just so, moving with the precision and grace of a tarantula. Much like the massive furry gray one I notice belatedly on her shoulder. She follows my gaze and smiles.

  “Oh, this is Queen Supreme. Though I just call her Queenie.” She gently scoops the tarantula off her shoulder, and I shudder as Arania kisses Queenie on her giant, hairy abdomen. Holding Queenie out toward me, I jerk away and am rewarded with another jolt of electricity.

  “She’s a Chilean rosehair. Like all of their kind, tarantulas are such misunderstood creatures. So gentle, so sweet – they never attack unless cornered.”

  “What do you want?” I gasp between shocks, my muscles twitching violently. I still can’t focus enough to move anything with my mind.

  “Why revenge of course!”

  When I don’t register any flickers of understanding, her smile turns into a menacing grin and Senator Burrows, no, Arania, leans in closer than I’ve ever been to her. She’s always kept me at well over arms length while I was her intern (which is typical in the Senate), and as Arania we were always one step behind her.

  And now I know why, as I take in the hints of blonde roots under her black hair and the very same smirk she had as a child ... I guess I’d never noticed the resemblance before because I wasn’t looking for it.

  “…Megan?”

  “Bingo.” She taps my nose with one well-manicured rose-colored nail. “I always said you were a freak. Freak.”

  Suddenly her eyes screw up into the back of her head and she collapses onto the ground in an ungraceful heap.

  “So’s your face!” Bryan, who I’d completely forgotten up until now, stands there, chest heaving, shreds of webbing hanging from his body.

  Guess all that time in the gym did actually pay off.

  “Unplug me.”

  He hesitates for a moment and then rushes off to a sidewall where a thin cable of spider web is plugged in. He kicks it free and I sag with relief as the volts stop shooting through my body. Bryan is instantly by my side, and I can feel my muscles still twitching with spasms as he gently lowers me to the ground.

  “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “What?” I’m trying to focus, to get my mental acuity back. I can tell Arania’s not dead, just knocked out. Probably concussed.

  “I tried to fly and I couldn’t. That happens sometime, but never when I’m in trouble. Or when someone else is in trouble.” He gives me a sidelong look. “But last night, when she grabbed me, I couldn’t fight back. I was normal. No super powers at all. She said ... she said it was you. You making me think I could fly.” He toes Arania’s body. “She figured it out and wanted me to know.”

  I nod my head, embarrassed, unsure of what to say.

  He doesn’t look at me, just stares at his cobweb coated sneakers. “So all this time I was never a superhero? It was you all along.”

  My head jerks up and I ignore the pain that shoots through me. “No! That’s where you’re wrong.” I reach out a shaky hand and place it on his arm. “I was too afraid to use my powers, to go out there and save people. I only went to protect you.”

  He finally meets my eyes, and I tighten my grip. “You knew you could get hurt, that your super powers were hit or miss, yet you still went out every day to save people.” I smile, meaning every word. “You are the real hero here. I’m just your loyal sidekick.”

  He finally cracks a smile, and pulls a strand of cobweb from my dark hair. “I’ve got a better idea, sis. How about we’re a team? Deal?” He sticks out his hand.

  I take it, and he helps me up. “Deal.”

  About the author

  Janine K. Spendlove is a KC-130 pilot in the United States Marine Corps. In the Science Fiction and Fantasy World she is primarily known for her best-selling trilogy, War of the Seasons. She has several short stories published in various anthologies alongside such authors as Aaron Allston, Jean Rabe, Michael A. Stackpole, Bryan Young, and Timothy Zahn. She is also the co-founder of GeekGirlsRun, a community for geek girls (and guys) who just want to run, share, have fun, and encourage each other. A graduate of Brigham Young University, Janine loves pugs, enjoys knitting, making costumes, playing Beatles tunes on her guitar, and spending time with her family. She resides with her husband and daughter in Washington, DC. She is currently at work on her next novel. Find out more at www.janinespendlove.com.

  About the story

  The idea of a story where the sidekick, not the superhero, actually had all the superpowers (and of course, said superhero is clueless) has appealed to me for a while, so I was thrilled for the opportunity to write it. Growing up, my younger brother Bryan and I were very close, and he was always obsessed with Superman. For years I never saw him go anywhere without that red cape tied around his neck. Lastly, my own wonderful daughter is from Mozambique and has grown quite a healthy obsession with superheroes herself since moving to the States, so loosely basing “Chei” on her in this story was an obvious choice. To my knowledge she does not have any latent telekinesis abilities.

  The Kid

  A Supreme Species Superhero Story

  Maxwell Alexander Drake

  Chapter One: Shock

  You know, a child never says, “When I grow up, I’m gonna be second best!” You might as well say, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life living in someone else’s shadow!” The world just doesn’t work that way. It’s not how people think. And it’s not how I thought, at least in the beginning.

  But let’s face facts. That's what I am. Second best. Always have been. Probably always will be.

  Oh, I could give you tons of reasons why. I could say life dealt me a crappy hand, or I didn’t have the advantages other kids had. I could even throw out a self-deprecating, “I just wasn’t good enough.”

  But you and I both know those are just excuses… or lies.

  Fact of the matter is; no one can be se
cond best unless someone else is first. And no one can be first unless they really want it. Push themselves to succeed. You know, basically give a crap and try.

  And that just isn’t me. Never was. I just don’t have what it takes to be the best. Least of all the drive. It had always seemed like too much work. Besides, there was always someone else around who wanted it more. So really, all I did was not get in their way.

  Then again, going out of my way to hinder someone else’s success also seemed like a lot of work, so…

  Maybe if I had pushed myself harder, I wouldn't be lying here in the middle of the street like a broken rag-doll.

  Ahh! I think both my legs are broken. My body feels like it’s burning from the inside.

  Chapter Two: Denial

  I thought it was all a crock of crap when I found out.

  Ha! Me with super powers. Can you believe it? I couldn’t.

  All my life I’d been watching ’em on the news. The Supers. Daydreaming about having some of their amazing abilities. And why not? A child’s fantasies are harmless enough.

  Besides, since my childhood sucked, my imagination was all I had. Born in the seventies to a couple of teenage hippies, I was all but invisible through elementary and middle school. Keeping up my trend of being outstandingly unremarkable, I ghosted through high school. Academically, I was no all-star. Sports bored me. Socially, I didn’t play well with others. My twelfth-grade yearbook has a few hastily scrawled, “Have a great summer!” or, “Good luck in the future!” only because I shoved my yearbook in someone’s hand. They may have recognized my face since we had been in the same class, but most didn’t know my name. They just gave me an awkward smile as they took my book to sign.

  Lucky for me I was surrounded by caring, supportive people. Like my career counselor, who made it clear that I would have a hard time getting into any state college. He wanted me to set my sights a bit lower, something that was more in line with my “academic achievements.” Perhaps one of the nice local community colleges we had in town. My dad felt a common nine-to-five workplace wouldn’t accept me either. He encouraged me to join the Army. Yeah, like I want to die fighting in some war I care nothing about.