Men of Steel

by Ryan Loveless

  “You get to see this all the time....”

  “Whenever I want—and I never get tired of it.”

  “Wow,” Daniel said, voice full of wonder. It seemed a childish word, but it was apropos.

  “You know, I have this theory about people and their fear of heights. I think that a lot of people are really afraid of falling, and not afraid of heights at all.”

  “Oh?” Daniel managed. “What’s the difference?”

  “I think there are people who if they know they can’t fall, then they’re fine. I have a friend that loves glass elevators but he can’t stand on a chair to change a light bulb.”

  Daniel almost laughed at the words. Didn’t that sound familiar? And the idea stuck for a moment.

  Paragon gave Daniel another little squeeze. “You know you can’t fall, right?”

  Daniel smiled despite himself. “I guess I do?” The view below really was magic.

  “Then are you ready for some swooping?” Paragon asked, a note of excitement in his voice.

  “Swooping?” Daniel said, his voice climbing up at least two octaves.

  “Here we go!”

  They dropped like a stone.

  Daniel pulled himself tight, clenched his eyes, and screamed like a girl on a roller coaster. It was that very thought that let him open his eyes wide and he yelled again as at the last possible second, they veered away from the rapidly approaching street and climbed like a rocket back into the sky. Daniel actually saw their reflection in the windows of a mirror-windowed building and his cry turned into one of pure joy.

  It was the most exciting experience of his life.

  Paragon executed a few more “swoops,” including a missile-like one over and through the cables of the George Washington Bridge. Daniel pressed himself even closer to his superhero and enjoyed every minute of the ride.

  Finally, they came to a gentle touchdown outside a pretty little restaurant. Tears filled Daniel’s eyes as Paragon set him down.

  “Oh my God, thank you.”

  Paragon beamed. “You’re welcome. Ready for dinner?”

  All Daniel could do was nod.

  They were just making their way through the restaurant’s door, where a smartly dressed maître d’ snapped to attention and greeted them enthusiastically, when the air was rocked by a tremendous explosion. The front windows of the restaurant actually shook in their panes as an orange glow lit up the sky.

  “That was close,” said Paragon. He looked down at Daniel. “Dammit. I’m so sorry, but....”

  “Duty calls?”

  Paragon nodded. “Gúy, will you feed my friend here?” he asked the maître d’.

  “Why of course, sir,” said the little man (that last word sounding like “sair”).

  “Put it on my account.”

  “We will treat him like a king.”

  “Terrific.” Then, turning back to Daniel, “Maybe this will be fast and I can join you.”

  “You do what you have to do,” Daniel replied, not feeling an ounce of disappointment.

  “I hope I get to see you again,” Paragon said, and began to rise up off the sidewalk.

  “Go get ’em, tiger,” Daniel said, and then, grinning, “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  THERE were two things that made Daniel change his mind about dinner. The first was another explosion; it was louder than the first—a great KER-WHAM! Even inside the cozy little restaurant, it was enough to make him afraid the window really would break this time. Daniel jumped. He was just sitting down at a small table, and he watched as a glass tumbler vibrated and then somehow didn’t fall. The maître d’ hardly flinched. Maybe he’s used to this? Daniel wondered.

  Or he’s just French, John offered.

  The second thing was Paragon’s words when he had said, “That was close.”

  I could go see, Daniel thought. See him in action again. From the safety of the ground. Cheer him on.

  The idea was irresistible.

  “Can I take a rain check on dinner?” Daniel asked.

  “I... well... of course, sair,” the maître d’ sputtered.

  Funny that an explosion doesn’t faze him, but a broken dinner arrangement does. He must be French.

  “Sorry,” Daniel said, and shot out the door. He turned right after only a slight hesitation, fairly sure he was going in the correct direction, and headed down the street. He’d gone about two blocks, was at an actual corner, when there was another explosion, this one a huge earsplitting KA-WHAM-WHAM! that made him shout in alarm. This time several windows did explode out into the street. He looked left, his ears ringing, and saw a great orange and yellow and black ball of flame rising into the sky, and then felt the heat coming at him in a wave.

  “Holy shit,” he gasped, and before he could think about what he was doing, headed that way at a run.

  It was only a few blocks away. One of the buildings, shaped like a giant fish bowl and slightly removed from its neighbors, was ablaze. Hovering in the air just outside the reach of the flames was none other than Tyrant.

  Daniel didn’t see Paragon, and that made him nervous. Surely the hero, a man able to fly, had beaten a normal guy running on foot. Then there was movement in the rubble beneath the fire. A large sheet of metal and I-beam crashed outward and Paragon, his costume dirty and torn, flew up from the wreckage.

  A cheer rose up from the gathering crowd, even as Tyrant shouted a curse. “Damn you, Paragon. Does nothing stop you?”

  Paragon and Tyrant came together with a boom and began exchanging punches in the air as surely as two boxers in a ring. It became apparent though that, at least as far as muscles were concerned, Paragon was the superior man. Paragon was beginning to turn the tide of the battle. “Give up, Tyrant. Your day has finally come! You might be able to fight me, but I’ve alerted the rest of the team. They’ll be here any minute. You can’t beat us all.”

  “You’re right, Paragon. That means I need to end this now!” Tyrant cried.

  With that, Tyrant opened his hand and shoved his palm in Paragon’s face. There was a bright flash, so brilliant that even Daniel and the crowd had to cover their eyes. Paragon screamed in what could only be agony and went tumbling back, end over end, through the fire-lit night. He crashed on the top of a parked car, the roof collapsing and its windows shattering outward.

  “Paragon!” Daniel called out, and, without a worry for the consequences, ran as fast as he could to his hero’s side. The car was half-crushed and Paragon lay upon it—arms and legs outstretched, head thrown back. He looked dead.

  “My God,” Daniel groaned and, reaching out, grabbed one of Paragon’s wrists and looked for a pulse. He found one. Barely.

  His actions were interrupted by Tyrant, who came down out of the night sky like a great, swooping raptor.

  “Oh, look,” Tyrant said. “Isn’t this pathetic? A member of the rabble seeing to the hero’s broken body.”

  “Stay away!” Daniel cried, terror wrenching his heart. He knew in that second death might be only a breath away.

  A funny look came over Tyrant’s face. “You. I’ve seen you before. How do I know you?” He paused and then his expression changed. “Ah, yes, in Kansas City. You’re the boy I threw out the window. A coincidence? I think not. I bet further that you’re special to Paragon. How convenient.”

  Tyrant raised his hand again. Once more there was a dazzling flair of light.

  Daniel knew no more.

  WHEN Daniel swam up into consciousness, he was confronted by the sight of a nude man standing before him.

  No. Not standing, exactly. More like shackled. The man was being held upright with chrome-colored cuffs so large they were almost comical. But then, the man they held was enormous as well. Daniel didn’t need to be a genius to guess who the man was. It didn’t take much imagination to see him clothed in a tight purple-and-white costume. Paragon!

  That was when Daniel realized he was in the same predicament. He too was naked, he too was shackled by the hu
ge chrome cuffs. They covered him from wrists to elbows. Jesus, he thought. He looked around him but saw nothing. The room was pitch black with only two spotlights shining down on both of them. Instinct made him try to shake free of his restraints, but it was useless. He looked back at Paragon and wished for something to cover himself. He hated the idea that Paragon might see his scrawny naked body.

  You’re chained up in some villain’s lair and you’re worried about your modesty? It was John, of course.

  Yes, he answered. I am worried. Look at him! Paragon makes François Sagat look skinny. What will he think of me?

  Daniel tried not to stare, to respect the man’s privacy. But he was gay after all, and the apparently unconscious man was stunning. The mask had hidden a lot. Paragon was incredibly handsome (my God! I am seeing Paragon without his mask!). His head was held nearly upright by a wide metallic collar covered on one side by tiny buttons. His muscular body was massive, his skin golden tan and completely devoid of hair except for the bright thatch that surrounded his genitals. They were generous as well (he’s soft, and he’s as big as I am hard!) and Daniel guessed that gay or straight, any man would have had a hard time not looking, if only for comparison.

  “Paragon,” Daniel said in awe. This was Paragon naked before him.

  Paragon stirred and opened his lids to reveal his impossibly blue eyes. They widened, and without the mask, Daniel could fully see his expressions. Surprise. And now sadness. “Oh, God. Daniel. I am so sorry.” And then his eyes, for just a second, flickered down.

  Daniel closed his eyes in humiliation. God. He’s looking at my skinny body. He’s a god and now he’s seen my skinny body. All men compare and now he’s compared himself to me and....

  “Daniel!”

  He jumped, as much as he could in his shackles, and opened his eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  Daniel took a deep breath, swallowed. “I-I think so.”

  “Thank God.” The look of relief on Paragon’s face was obvious.

  Face. The impact finally hit Daniel. This was Paragon’s secret identity. “I’m sorry,” Daniel said. “Your mask... I’m seeing you without your mask....”

  Paragon blushed, no doubt about it this time. “You’re seeing me without a hell of a lot less than my mask! So we’re in the same boat. There’s nothing that can be done about it. Now listen to me. I am going to get us out of here. Do you trust me?”

  Daniel thought of flying and knew instantly that yes, he did trust the man. “Yes.” He nodded. “I trust you.”

  Paragon smiled. It made him look even more beautiful. Daniel hadn’t realized how much of a person’s expression, even a smile, could be hidden by a mask. What a simple smile did to muscles, cheeks, creases around eyes, eyebrows. And of course there were those almost-glowing eyes. Once more he began to wonder if those eyes had something to do with Paragon’s powers. Hell, hadn’t he read that Paragon was the ultimate human? Was even his incredible attractiveness a power?

  “Ready?” Paragon asked.

  Daniel nodded vigorously. “Oh, yeah. Hell, yes.”

  Paragon grinned even wider, gave a slight toss of his head, and jerked one of his arms.

  Nothing happened.

  The look on Paragon’s face was pure surprise. That look was What-the-fuck?

  Paragon turned his head and looked at the huge chrome shackle. He tugged. Again nothing happened. His brows furrowed together and with a grimace, he wrenched even harder at the restraint.

  Nothing.

  “Damn. What the hell is this made of?”

  Adamantium? Daniel wondered. But of course that was just comic books.

  “It’s only chrome steel,” came a deep voice.

  They turned as one and watched as Tyrant strode slowly and yet purposely into the light of the beams above. “It isn’t what they are, Paragon.” He reached up and pushed the hood of his cloak back, revealing a strong and handsome bearded face. “It is what you are now.”

  “And what am I, Tyrant?” Paragon snarled.

  “Why, powerless, my dear adversary. Powerless. The device you both wear around your necks is an inhibitor collar of my own design. I gave you your powers, Paragon, and now I have the technology to take them away.”

  Gave you your powers? Daniel wondered, and at the tail of that, He took away Paragon’s powers?

  Tyrant turned his back on Paragon, surely something he would not normally dare do, and ran his eyes up and down Daniel’s body. When he got to Daniel’s face, he shook his head and raised a brow. “But you don’t need one of my collars, do you, boy?” He snorted and turned back to Paragon. “You know I have nothing against your homosexuality. But why pick a normal as your lover? You can’t even be intimate with this little boy. You’d kill him.”

  Daniel’s eyes went wide. Paragon was gay? Holy shit! Had the circumstances been different, he might have squealed.

  Tyrant gave Daniel a look of contempt, his lip curled. “A god with a mere mortal.” He made a little sniffing sound. “A human.”

  “He’s not my lover,” Paragon said. “He’s just a fan. Let him go, Tyrant. He has nothing to do with you and me.”

  “Is that what you are? A fan?” Tyrant asked Daniel. “A fan-geek-boy? You should be.” Tyrant held out an arm and in an almost bow, waved it toward the restrained hero. “He is a god. You should worship him. If the fool would only join me and my cause, you and all the other sheep would surely do so one day.” Then back to Paragon. “But you won’t join me, will you, Mr. America? Mr. Hero? Even though I made you.”

  “That’s what you’ve claimed before,” Paragon barked. “You’ve never proven it.”

  Tyrant laughed. “You want proof? All right. I will give you proof.” He strode just out of the light and a moment later, another beam came down from the ceiling. The darkly cloaked man was standing at a tall desk, hands moving over a panel. Then images began to appear in the air around and above them. Pictures of DNA strands and charts of information. Tyrant came back and pointed at the first of the enlarged pictures of DNA. “This is your mother.” He gestured to the second. “This is your father. Both were remarkable. Athletes, body builders, your mother a genius, your father an Olympic gold medalist in weight lifting.”

  “My parents weren’t any of those things,” Paragon said.

  Tyrant gave a hmph. “The woman who bore you did not supply anything for you except a womb and an eggshell. I took the DNA of two humans, exceptional ones to be sure, but of course only human, and combined them with genetic material of my choice....” He waved and the pictures moved over and up, and another took their place. “Adding something here and there, a tweak, a pinch, a little nip, and then there was you. I implanted my work, you, into one of your womb-mother’s eggs, and you were born.”

  Tyrant waved and then a video began to play. A woman giving birth.

  “Mom?”

  “Stop calling her that!” Tyrant snarled. “I am the only parent you really have. Even the two who supplied your building blocks did not do so without my supervision. My additions.”

  The image of the woman floated above their heads, lying back on a table with her legs in stirrups and crying out in pain.

  “Push, Mrs. Morrow,” said the doctor, whose image also drifted in the air.

  “Mute,” Tyrant called out, and the woman’s cries were gone. The picture was not and a moment later, she gave birth.

  Paragon, Daniel realized. That’s Paragon being born!

  Daniel turned from the image to the man. Paragon’s eyes were shut. The look on his face. God! “Paragon?” he asked. What must he be going through? Finding out you’re adopted is one thing, but this? “Paragon. Are you all right?” Of course he’s not all right!

  Paragon opened his eyes, and oh! the pain Daniel saw in them. But the hero nodded. “I’m fine,” he said.

  Liar, Daniel thought. And then realized just what a hero really was.

  “So many of you out there have made the mistake of thwarting me,” Tyr
ant continued. “When surely you know, in the end, I will win. I will conquer this world and rule it with an iron fist. The ‘supers’, as humans call you, will be my army and my leaders. A new age will be ushered in. One of peace and prosperity. War will not be allowed. Violence of any kind will not be tolerated—”

  “Violence by ‘normals,’ you mean,” Paragon said.

  Daniel trembled. Look at him! He finds out something like that and he keeps going. That’s what makes him a hero. Tyrant on the other hand was a different kind of man altogether. He wasn’t just some villain, some Dr. Octopus from a comic book. This man intended to conquer the world!

  “Every society needs its police force,” Tyrant said. “It is such a force that allows freedom. True freedom. The freedom to pursue healthy endeavors instead of those that bring harm to others.”

  “Freedom isn’t something that one person gets to choose for everyone, Tyrant,” Paragon replied, his voice a rumble. “True freedom is what each individual chooses.”

  Tyrant’s eyes widened, and then narrowed. “Like this?” He waved again and images began to pop up in the darkness all around them. Most of them showed death. They showed explosions. War. Machine guns firing into crowds. Bloody, broken bodies. Gangs fighting in city streets. Men beating an obviously gay man with baseball bats. A man beating a woman. A woman beating a child.

  “Is this freedom?” Tyrant bellowed.

  Daniel felt tears building in his eyes. Tyrant was right. The images were horrible. Would the world be a better place if Tyrant was allowed to fulfill his dreams of conquest? He trembled again. Could Tyrant actually help the world?

  Paragon shook his head. “Oh, Tyrant. You so underestimate them. The world gets better every day. Mankind is growing up! Look what’s happening to the dictators. Gaddafi. Hussein. Mubarak. The people are rising up. Communism ended in Russia. They pulled Lenin’s statues down in the streets. People are claiming their freedom. Osama Bin Laden thought he would bring America to its knees by crashing those planes into the Twin Towers and instead he brought its citizens together! Brought the world together.”

  Daniel felt his breath catch. God! Paragon’s words! His tone. Paragon believed what he said, even as Tyrant believed his own words. But where Tyrant offered help by force, Paragon’s idealism offered something altogether different.