Six Superhero Stories

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  "I was wondering when you'd get around to this." Linda threw her head back and laughed. "Come to cut your boy loose, have you?"

  The De-Evilizer had a smooth, curved body with a long barrel. As I pointed it at her, it pulsed and glowed faintly with strange alien energies like some kind of a living thing.

  "Well, you're too fucking late." Linda rose from the chair. Her skin began to turn crimson as she took a step toward me. Her eyes gleamed with yellow light, and her ears grew points. "He's mine and he always will be. I have taken the world's greatest super-hero and made him my bitch. And there's nothing you or anyone can ever do about it!"

  My hand shook as she strolled across the apartment that had once been his alone. It was her territory now, her turf. And Partycrasher was helpless to resist her.

  If I didn't act quickly, he would stay that way. If I didn't do what I'd come there to do, he would be forever lost, and I...

  I was sure I would be dead at her feet. Now that I'd played my final card, now that I'd seen her true form, she couldn't afford to leave me alive.

  But then I'd known that before I'd walked in the door, hadn't I?

  Reaching up with my free hand, I braced my grip and steadied the De-Evilizer. I thought back to the day, years before, when Partycrasher himself had given it to me.

  I want you to have this, he'd told me. It's extraterrestrial technology from Area 51.

  At first, I'd stared at the thing without taking it. What does it do?

  Destroys evil, he'd said. Burns it away with cleansing fire.

  Shouldn't you keep it? I'd asked him.

  He'd pushed it toward me more insistently. It's for you, Tim. In case an evil force takes control of my mind. In case I ever turn against the cause of justice.

  Impossible, I'd said. That could never happen.

  Remember last month, when Power of Suggestion and the Hypnoid made me fight you? It can happen again, only much worse. With that, Partycrasher had pressed the weapon into my hand. You must be my fail-safe, do you understand? Don't let my awesome powers be used against the world I've sworn to defend.

  Gazing at the De-Evilizer, I'd closed my fingers around it. I could never...

  You will do what you must! He'd thrown himself forward then and hugged me. Swear it!

  And so I'd sworn it. And now here I was, ready to use the De-Evilizer for the first time. Praying with all my heart that it would work, that it would save him.

  It was his last chance, and I knew it. Our last chance.

  "So go ahead!" A forked tongue flickered between Linda's lips, which were now literally on fire. "Shoot your load, Tiny Tim! Go for the gusto!"

  As she strode toward me, sneering, her now-crimson body grew taller. Snakes wrapped around her arms and legs, squirming in continuous motion. Leathery batlike wings burst out of her back and expanded behind her, flapping ominously.

  This, then, was what she'd been all along...what I'd sensed her true nature to be. She was a demoness, a she-devil, a creature belched up from the fiery pits of Hell itself. No wonder she'd been able to use trickery so effectively. No wonder she'd been able to cloud Partycrasher's mind, to fill it with delusions.

  "What's the matter?" Linda conjured a flaming whip out of thin air and cracked it in my direction. "Aren't you man enough to take me?"

  I was scared, no doubt about it--but also determined. Partycrasher was depending on me...and through him, through the great feats he was yet destined to accomplish, the whole world was depending on me, too.

  "Come on, Partypooper! Give it your best shot!" Linda cracked the whip again and howled with laughter. "But you better make it a good one, because that's all you'll get!"

  My hands tightened around the De-Evilizer. There was no trigger to pull; it would activate by mental command.

  Again, she snapped the whip. The blazing tip sizzled past my left ear, but I didn't flinch. In the name of Partycrasher and all he stood for, I would not be deterred.

  I prepared to give the mental command.

  Then, suddenly, the apartment changed around me. In the blink of an eye, everything was different.

  The whole living room was brighter. Every inch of it seemed cleaner and sharper--as if I'd been looking through an imperfect lens, and everything had been slightly out of focus until now.

  As for Linda, she no longer looked like a demonic she-devil. Gone were the wings, yellow eyes, crimson skin, and forked tongue. Instead of a red gown embroidered with mystic symbols, she wore her Partygirl costume, the little black dress with crimson-lined cape and black fishnet stockings.

  And the look on her face was nothing at all like what I'd seen earlier. Instead of gleeful wickedness, I saw total surprise and fear.

  "No, Tim!" Her voice trembled as she said it. "Please, don't! We can work this out, I know we can!"

  "Linda?" I was so surprised, I lowered the gun. "What...?"

  "I want to help you, Tim! We both do!" Breathless, she pressed a hand against her chest. "You're part of the family, and that will never..."

  "No!" I swung the gun up, certain that this was all one of Linda's illusions. "You won't fool me that easily, Loveblind!"

  Suddenly, the room shifted again. This time, it grew brighter still. The furnishings looked newer and more expensive. The carpet went from brown to white, the end tables from stained wood to glass and chrome.

  As for Linda, she was dressed in black silk pajamas. "Why are you doing this, Tim?" She was crying and clutching her stomach. Blood welled up around her hands, dripping onto the carpet at her feet. "Oh God, why?"

  I shook my head hard but didn't lower the De-Evilizer. "Nice try, bitch!"

  How many more illusions was she going to bombard me with? How much more innocent could she make herself appear?

  I wasn't going to wait around to find out.

  Clenching my teeth, I aimed the De-Evilizer at Linda's forehead. I took a breath to steady myself.

  And then I gave the mental command.

  Linda of the black silk pajamas tumbled toward the carpet. On her way down, she became Linda of the Partygirl outfit, gazing at me from behind her domino mask.

  And when she hit the floor, she became the she-devil again, her entire body hissing as the De-Evilizer burned away the foul darkness festering in her soul.

  At which point the front door flew open and Partycrasher charged into the apartment. "Nooo!" He looked from me to Linda, then back again. "Put it down, Tim! For God's sake, put down the..."

  *****

  TRUTH IS THE GREATEST SUPER-POWER OF THEM ALL!

  Partycrasher gives me another kick in the chest. "Why you hated her so much, I'll never know." The next one, he plants in my groin. "Frankly, I don't much give a shit anymore."

  I squirm on the ground, groaning from the pain. I can't even manage a scream anymore. "Sh-she was...t-turning you...evil..."

  "I said..." He kicks me again. "...I don't care." And again.

  "B-but the De-Evilizer..."

  "...was the .45 automatic that was stolen from my apartment in a break-in three years ago!" Suddenly, he leans down and lifts me off the pavement by my blood-soaked cape. "You killed my wife with my own gun!"

  I try to shake my head, which comes out more like a twitch. "S-saved...you..."

  "Saved me?" He hauls me close so we're face to face. "You ruined me, you demented son of a bitch. You took the one thing I ever cared about in this..."

  I close my eyes. I try to shut him out.

  What if this is all an illusion? What if Linda Loveblind sank her hooks in me, too...and if only I concentrate hard enough, the real world will peek through and I can see...

  *****

  HONORING THE PARTNER OF A LIFETIME.

  As I stand on the dais and gaze out at the crowd, I feel like I'm going to cry. Other than the day Partycrasher invited me to join the Party Line, this is by far the finest day of my life.

  Every super-hero in Isosceles City is assembled here today. I see Hericane, Mardi Gras, Overtime, Stalwart...Wide
ning Gyre, Thunder Perfect Mind, The Jupitarian...Flotilla, Red Baron, Carpet Bomber, Concorde...Retcon, CEO, King David, Old Glory. They all gaze up at me, grinning with approval--some winking, some giving me a thumbs-up.

  Then, Partycrasher walks out and stands in front of me, facing the crowd. "We are gathered here today to bestow the ultimate honor that the super-hero community can give." He lifts up a glittering medal on a red velvet yoke, holds it over his head. "The Order of the Golden Mask."

  Everyone applauds at once. Some of the heroes whoop and whistle. Mardi Gras shoots up fireworks.

  "I bestow this award upon the man who saved me from Linda Loveblind, the femme fatale who infiltrated my super-team...and my personal life." Partycrasher turns and smiles at me. "I bestow this award upon the truest and most faithful hero ever to fight crime by my side."

  He walks over and drapes the medal around my neck.

  "I have never been more proud of you," he says softly as he kisses my cheek. And then he turns to the audience again and raises his arms high. "Please join me now in recognizing this courageous hero for his outstanding achievement and the statement it makes about the true nature of heroism in our..."

  *****

  THE LAST STAND OF A HERO'S HERO.

  Partycrasher's voice brings me back. "Maybe you think I won't cross the line tonight." His eyes come into focus again, glaring out from the holes in his black cowl. "Maybe you think I take my oath too seriously to ever kill a man in cold blood."

  He's still holding me up by my cape like a hunk of dead meat. My body's so broken at this point, I can't move a muscle. I can't feel a thing below my waist, which I think is a major blessing.

  "Well, guess what?" Suddenly, his fist lashes out and punches right through my chest. "There's an addendum to the oath. File it under super-hero trivia."

  I can feel...I can feel...

  My eyes roll up in their sockets. I can feel his hand clutching my heart.

  "This addendum," he says as his fingers start to squeeze. "It renders the oath null and void in the event of a murdered spouse." His grip continues to tighten. "What does this mean in plain English?"

  "P-please." There are so many things I want to say, so many things I need to tell him. A cascade, a multitude of things.

  If only I could speak a full sentence.

  "Translation," he says. "I am de-evilizing you."

  Then his grip on my heart grows tighter still. His fist clenches, and I know my heart is about to burst, about to break for the very last time.

  And I close my eyes and strain with all my might to see beyond the illusion once more. Perhaps, if I can shatter this implanted delusion, I can step through into the better world Loveblind sought to deny me, the world in which instead of dying I am...

  *****

  ANOTHER NIGHT IN ISOSCELES CITY...

  Partycrasher pats my chest and smiles. "Ready to hit the street, chum?"

  I pull the black cowl down over my face and nod. "So much crime, so little time."

  "Say." He cocks his head and points an index finger at me. "That's a good one. I just might use that again."

  "Be my guest." I laugh and unbuckle my seat belt. "So do you think we'll catch up with her tonight, Partycrasher?"

  "Linda Loveblind?" He shrugs as he pops open his own seat belt. "Hard to say. All we can do is remain ever-vigilant for any sign of that mind-warping Mata Hari."

  "I suppose you're right." Reaching into the glove compartment, I pull out the De-Evilizer gun. "But I'm taking this just in case."

  We both chuckle, and then we leap out of the Partymobile without opening the doors.

  The second my boots hit the pavement, I feel lighter. This is where I belong. This is how it was meant to be.

  All my troubles float away as I start the oath. "Criminals, your party is over."

  "We're not invited," joins in Partycrasher, "and we're showing up anyway."

  We give each other a high five. Then, we hear a woman scream from a nearby alley.

  "A citizen in danger!" says Partycrasher. "Some foul fiend at work, no doubt!"

  "Let's go!" My feet are already moving before I say the words.

  As we run toward the alley, the streetlight behind us flickers once...then twice. Looking back over my shoulder, I see it flicker a third time, and go out.

  I stop running, staring up at that darkened lamp, feeling as if I'm forgetting something. Something important.

  But then I figure what could be more important than fighting crime? And I charge off after Partycrasher, dashing under the stars winking in the indigo night, stars so bright and close, I swear I could pluck them right from the sky if only I outstretched my black-gloved hand.

  CASE CLOSED.

  *****

  A Matter Of Size

  They show it in slow motion three times from three different angles. The woman's bare foot plunging down through the frame, nails painted cherry red. Super-hero Flyspeck, the bug wonder, stuck to a pest strip tacked to the wood floor. The foot dropping closer, ever closer, as Flyspeck struggles to break free.

  Lousy porn music jangles in the background, someone noodling on an electric guitar. We can still hear Flyspeck's voice and the rasping of the pest strip as he fights to free himself.

  "Nooo! Please noooo!" His drawn-out, distorted squeak is the sound a grown man's voice makes when he shrinks to five inches tall and is played back in slow motion. "Stoooop! For the loooove of God, please stooooop!"

  But the foot ignores him. Stomps down on him with crushing force. And Flyspeck splatters in all directions from under that foot, blood and goo squirting everywhere. No more screaming.

  Just an echoing, slow-motion splat.

  "Turn it off." Dust Mite, chairman of the Small Wonders super-team, stumbles away from the screen, hands cupped over his eyes. "Please just turn it off."

  Someone switches off the projector. Someone else turns on the lights.

  And we're blinking at each other, eyes adjusting to the brightness. Seven of us sitting around the big oval meeting table in our secret lair, the Mousehole. Each one in a different super-hero costume glittering with colors—electric blue and yellow and orange and green and red. The whole place smelling of coffee and sweat and farts.

  "Wow." Tiny Tim shakes his head slowly. Peels off his crimson domino mask and slaps it down on the meeting table. "That makes three of us."

  Iota nods and wipes tears from under his purple cowl. "Pinpoint, Germ Warfare, and now Flyspeck. All gone."

  "We're targets." Dust Mite's voice trembles. He tugs at the hood of his pale gray body suit. "Every costumed avenger with the power to shrink."

  "The Small Wonders are marked men." Little Lord Fauntleroy adjusts the frilly collar rising from under his blue velvet jacket. "What shall we do?"

  I blow out my breath and swing my black boots off the table. "You already know the answer to that." I roll to my feet and head for the door of the Mousehole.

  "What answer?" says Fauntleroy. "Do tell us, Man-Child."

  *****

  No more shrinkage. It's as simple as that.

  I shake my head as I swagger off down the Las Vegas Strip, surrounded by flashing neon at two in the morning. My black hair and hooded cloak rippling in the hot, dry wind. Black silk mask wrapped around the lower half of my face, keeping out the swirling grit in the air. Looking no weirder, drawing no more attention, than any other freak on the prowl at this hour.

  If someone's targeting costumed vigilantes with shrinking-related abilities, you just need to swear off the powers. Stay off the radar a while. No more crimefighting.

  Either that, or use your damn powers to take action before you get stepped on. Before your death gets turned into a viral porn video for the legion of nut-sacks craving the ultimate crush-fetish experience: girl meets super-hero, girl stomps on super-hero.

  Which brings me to myself, Isaac Gideon, the one and only Man-Child. What's my next step, given the crisis at hand?

  *****

  Rattle s
ome cages. That's where I start.

  First stop, the Gold Doubloon, off the Vegas Strip...way off. One of those antique casinos that huddle in the shadows of the modern-day monstrosities, offering a taste of the Rat Pack era. Also plenty of actual rats.

  Case in point, the big man at the ancient craps table across the smoky room. This is his personal sewer.

  And he's a walking encyclopedia of criminal activity. He'll have the answers I'm looking for. Some of them, at least.

  Meet Mammon. "Look what the cat puked up!" He laughs when he spots me. His huge hippo jowls flutter over the open collar of his tuxedo shirt. "What a disgusting mess!"

  There are twelve guys around the craps table, all laughing at Mammon's joke. Twelve of his toughest soldiers.

  "'Man-Child.'" Mammon cackles and jiggles in his lemon yellow tuxedo. "What the fuck kind of name is that for a super-zero?"

  I walk up, cracking my knuckles. "Someone's making pornos with costumed avengers." I shoulder two goons out of the way and lean my hip against the table. "Against their will."

  "Oh, dear!" Mammon's eyes widen like saucers of milk. "That's just terrible!"

  I refuse to be annoyed. "Don't try to tell me you don't know who's doing this."

  "If I did, I'd buy him a drink." Mammon chortles and runs his disproportionately skinny fingers over his slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair. "Anyone who does that to a super-zero is okay in my book."

  "I need to find him."

  "Why? You wanna volunteer?" Mammon roars with laughter and rolls the dice on the table. "Wanna be in pictures?"

  My blood pressure rises. I look around, sizing up the goons and the room, getting ready for a fight. "Tell me what you know."