Better to Die a Hero

by Michael van Dagger

  “If you say so.” Nora gave him a skeptical wink. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing you demonstrate a little of this style.”

  “Don’t say anything to Bryan about it,” Steve leaned in and whispered, “or we’ll be watching his version of Angry Orangutan for the next week.” Nora responded with a nod.

  “Get ready here I come.” The door flew open. Bryan stepped out, landed fists on waist, and cocked his head to the side.

  “I can't believe you're going to wear that.” Steve’s palm bounced off his forehead.

  Nora giggled delightfully.

  Bryan’s costume consisted of red flannel underwear with white boxer shorts pulled over the top. Red hearts covered the boxers and a glossy black cape of medium length draped over his shoulders. A professional looking utility belt with several pouches was strapped around his waist. A leather aviator cap and goggles sat on the teenager’s head.

  Steve asked, “The cap and goggles, how long on the Internet to find and order?”

  “Ten minutes,” Bryan said, adjusting his headgear.

  Steve knew he should have expected something like this. Every time their group ran a superhero campaign, Bryan created comical parodies instead of serious characters. While Steve ran Mongoose, a martial arts expert, Bryan had opted to create Chicken-man, a six-foot chicken that shot egg grenades out its ass and devastated enemies with a sonic cluck blast. Still worse was Mucusman, whose snot blast could entrap the strongest of villains and if any snot splashed on a nearby rogue, there was a twenty-five percent chance that the gross out factor would cause temporary paralysis. Then there was Orgasmo, a sex and relationship therapist by day, orgasm wielding hero by night. By mentally triggering the pleasure centers of a villain’s brain, Orgasmo could cause a string of multiple orgasms, even in men, that left them incapable of self-defense. Steve hated Orgasmo, but tolerated the character since nothing strange shot out of any of his orifices.

  “I came up with a scenario last night that I know you guys will love,” Nora said. “What ten female heroes have the best breasts?”

  Steve laughed. “That’s a tough one.”

  “They all have the same breasts,” Bryan said.

  “It kind of depends on who’s drawing them,” Steve added, “but they’re all drawn the same way, with the same voluptuous body, except for Jubilee. She has the body of a fifteen year old.”

  “She does not,” Bryan said, “I have hundreds of comics, I can show you she is very well built.”

  Nora addressed Bryan. “So Bryan, what’s your superhero name?”

  “I'm leaning toward Ectoman or Ectomorphicman,” he replied.

  Nora said, “I recognize that from Behavioral Science, ectomorph was one of Sheldon's Body type classifications. That must be the slim one.”

  “Yep,” Bryan said looking over at Steve, “we should call you Endomorphman.”

  Steve picked up his college dictionary. It took only a second to find endomorph and he began to read aloud. “Having a heavy rounded body type often with a marked tendency to become fat. Very funny.” Steve slammed the dictionary shut in fake anger. Nora stood up off the bed and gave his back a friendly rub.

  “My turn to change.” She grabbed her bag and walked to the bathroom flashing a charismatic smile. Before closing the door, she turned to the boys and said, “It sucks that they draw all the women alike in the comic books.” The boys nodded sympathetically.

  Steve turned to Bryan and stared for a few seconds. “You know that costume is so cliché. It pops up in TV shows and comic books when they want to depict some psycho that thinks he’s a superhero.”

  “That’s why it’s the perfect costume,” Bryan said, “it is the ultimate cliché that will now be worn by a real superhero.”

  Steve sighed. “If you must.” The comic look was not what he envisioned for their newly formed super group, but Bryan had a certain nature that would not be denied and the costume before him was an honest extension of his friend's wacky personality. “But you might try wearing this.” Steve tossed him a dome style ski mask that was red and made of Neoprene. “I can tell your identity through those goggles and so could anybody at school.”

  Bryan pushed the mask to his face and pressed together the Velcro ends behind his head. The dome mask covered the end of the nose down past the chin. “This feels pretty good,” he said in a muffled voice. “This circular pattern of holes in the front lets in air just fine.” He placed his goggles and cap on. “They work well together, but you need this don't you?”

  “No, I bought two, one red, one black. The black one goes better with my costume anyway. You should see the mask I made. I cut it out of an old wet suit I bought at a thrift store. It feels like the same stuff these ski masks are made of and I glued Velcro attachments to the straps.”

  “Hey guys,” Nora shouted, “I'm coming out.”

  Nora stepped out and raised her bare athletic arms in the air, elegantly spreading her fingers. “Ta-Da.” The black leather vest, the sole article of clothing above her slim waist, except for a purple bra, moved up exposing an innie bellybutton and feminine six-pack. She turned slowly on her toes modeling black leather hot pants, fishnet stockings, and knee-high boots. The small of her back sported taunt muscle and her complexion was a flawless topaz. She dropped her arms and the vest fell comfortably in place, affirming that the brassiere had been a good investment, producing cleavage for the cleavage challenged.

  “What do you guys think?”

  Steve said, “You look great.”

  “Thanks, I’ve been tanning off and on all winter. I think for now you guys can call me Tigerwoman.” Nora gestured Steve toward the bathroom. “It's your turn big boy, get in there and show us what you got.”

  “I don't want any laughing,” Steve said.

  A few minutes later, he stepped out of the bathroom. His costume like Nora's was predominately black. The hiking boots, denim jeans, short leather gloves, half-face ski mask and the raccoon eye mask were completely black. His over sized t-shirt, also black, sported a large letter “M”, in red, across the chest.

  “Looking mighty good in them jeans boy,” she told him. “Just how many miles a day have you been running?”

  “Thank you,” Steve replied slightly embarrassed. “Would you believe twenty?”

  “Twenty miles! What are you nuts?” Bryan said. “What the hell are you doing running like that?”

  “Just trying to get in shape dude,” he answered well prepared for Bryan’s outburst. The guy detested all athletics and anything related to exercise.

  “We don't have to exercise to get into shape, we’re already strong.”

  “It’s the way running makes me feel,” Steve said, “At the end of twenty miles, it's like a natural high, I've never felt anything like it.”

  “Suit yourself, but I think you’re wasting your time. I mean, man, I feel like a freight train already.” Bryan punched the air several times and beat his chest.

  Nora gasped. “Let's see if I can move that fast.” She spread her legs a little more than shoulder width, squatted slightly, both fists clinched at the waist. Explosively she punched out, alternating between her right and left arms. Like Bryan, her moves were inhumanly fast. “What do you think?”

  “I think you could be the star of a Ninja movie,” Steve said barely able to hold back the excitement. Concerned his efforts would look foolish, he decided against performing an air punch demonstration.

  “It's dark enough, let's get going,” Bryan said. “I can't wait to get out there.” He looked over at Nora. “Are you going to paint your face here?”

  “No, I'll do it in the car on the way to the park.”

  7

  BETTER TO DIE A HERO

  CHAPTER 7

  Steve poked his head out of the alley and glanced anxiously at Bryan’s hatchback that was parked near the entrance of the secluded passage. Nora slammed the door and Steve winced as if he’d experienced the car’s pain. She skipped in the alleys direction
, head held suspiciously down, her raven hair falling forward hiding the freshly applied face paint.

  “Here she comes,” Steve said from under the ski mask. He resumed a frantic pacing, barely able to control the nervous energy swelling inside.

  With eyes aimed at the ground, the girl managed to walk directly up to Steve’s chest, the top of her head stopping just short of striking his chin.

  “Let me see how you did,” Steve said with an unexpected huskiness in his voice. He placed two fingers under Nora's chin and lifted her face out of the shadows. Her glossy hair fell away and the soft light of the street lamp illuminated her feminine features.

  The corners of Nora's mouth turned up.

  Steve studied the grey and white stripes for traces of Nora's identity. “I'm impressed,” he said, “I wouldn't have been able to tell it was you.” In truth, her shapely lips and brown eyes, being well imprinted in his mind, gave clues to her identity, as did her hairstyle, height and movement. Any person attending the gymnastic events, and studying the girls as Steve had done, might be able to discern Nora’s athletic stride—he certainly could. Maybe it was just him. She would probably have to don a full Disney costume before he’d fail to recognize her.

  “Here you go.” Nora tossed Bryan the keys. “You left your keys in the car.”

  “Yeah, I’m almost as nervous as your boyfriend here.” Bryan placed his keys into a pouch on his utility belt.

  “Let's see,” Steve said, “we're about a mile from the park.” He surveyed the neighborhood and this block consisted of large two and three story homes with steeply sloping roofs. “These houses are no good for climbing.”

  “We should run down the alley,” Bryan said, “a block or two at least and then climb to the top of those three story brownstones. Their roofs are flat. I think, from there, we can go by roof top the entire way to the park.”

  “Uh, guys, I don't know if we should be climbing on people's houses,” Nora said.

  “Don't be silly,” Bryan said, “how do you think superheroes get around? Haven't you ever watched Saturday morning cartoons?”

  Nora glared at the cape, heart boxers, and aviation goggles. “I can't believe you just told me not to be silly.” She blew a raspberry at the offending boy and bolted down the alley toward the brownstones.

  Steve turned to his friend and Bryan swiveled his leather-garbed head at Steve. Simultaneously they glanced forward and sprinted after. Steve quickly left Bryan behind matching Nora's pace but careful not to pass. He took a position five feet behind her, fixing his gaze on her bare arms pumping with every stride, and then on her thick hair bouncing to the rhythm of her every step. They raced to an iron fire escape that lay in their path. Nora executed a long skip, hop, and jump upward like no other human in history. Steve slid to a bouncing halt, neck wrenched skyward, to witness Nora's two-story ascent—his mind filled with a sense of the incredible. Arms out to the side for balance, she landed on the edge of the rusty railing and a metallic boom burst into the night. In less than a heartbeat, the boom mutated into a pitched shriek as the iron recoiled from a powerful push that launched the girl upward for a second time. Her fingers clipped the brickwork surrounding the roof, her position inverted, flinging her legs over her head, and she disappeared over the top.

  Steve squatted, clenched his fists, and let a tension of superhuman proportions build in his thick thighs. Explosively, he launched himself upward much like that first leap up the moss wall. He ignored the stomach tickle and hardly heard the wrenching fire escape give to his landing and push off. He twisted his back to the building and caught the brickwork, almost matching Nora’s grace. The teenagers’ legs flew over his head. Nora stood in his path, there was no time to react, and he landed.

  “Watch it big guy,” she said from a few inches behind. She playfully slapped his backside.

  “Holy cow,” Steve said, tiptoeing forward and rubbing his buttocks. He was happy he hadn’t knocked over the girl of his dreams, but it felt like he’d just been slapped on the ass by a NFL linebacker. That is, a linebacker with really small hands.

  For a third time the metallic boom and piercing screech ruined the night’s calm. The two turned their attention to Bryan. Several windows lay open only a few feet from where Steve was sure they were ripping the fire escape from the wall. His eyes fixed on their skinny friend darting straight up twenty feet past the rooftop. Bryan's cape drug taut under the force of his ascent until his momentum reached zero. The long cape whipped high as the gangly boy dropped. He frantically dog paddled through the air attempting to make contact with the ledge. Steve and Nora stared up at the frenzy of movements, paralyzed by the spectacle. Bryan’s diaphragm slammed across the short wall that ran the circumference of the roof, driving the air from his lungs.

  Nora winced and squealed at the sound. Bryan lay there high centered, his legs dangling over the edge.

  “Are you okay?” the two said in unison as they ran to his aid. Each took an arm and pulled their friend to the roof.

  “I’m okay…,” Bryan said, barely able to talk. He stood up and brushed the dirt from his costume.

  Steve saw that his friend was unharmed and lowered his voice to the baritone of a cartoon superhero, “Sorry, I meant to say, are you okay Ectoman.” He stumbled backward, clutched his stomach, and began laughing uncontrollably. He glanced at Nora. The picture of Bryan flailing through the air must have captivated her too, for she rolled to the tar rooftop, laughing without restraint.

  Steve, barely able to stay on his feet laughed until his eyes teared over. Staring at the rooftop, his vision doubled and the harder he tried to focus and bring the two wandering textures together, the heartier his laughter grew.

  Bryan ripped away the ski mask, a look of disgust on his face. “What the hell is so funny?”

  “I’m sorry,” Steve said his eyes wide and bewildered. “Dude, calm down. We didn't mean to upset you.”

  Nora’s mouth fell open. “I am really sorry too Bryan. I didn't think it would make you mad. You are the funniest person I know, you usually like making people laugh.”

  “What the hell is going on up there? I'm calling the cops!” The yell came from a window on the top floor.

  “Let's go,” Nora said giving Steve's arm a strong tug. “Someone’s coming up through that roof door.” She pointed to a dark empty corner of the roof.

  “What the hell are you kids doing?”

  Steve glanced back in the direction of the voice; a heavy bald man emerged from the darkness. The three started running and continued sprinting along the rooftops, traversing several buildings. The space separating each structure was slight and presented no challenge. They stopped at the end of the block and peered down the three-story drop.

  “Holy Shit!” Steve said looking down. “Okay, let’s not panic, we have a few minutes.” He gave his companions a glance. “Can we drop from this far up?”

  “I don't know.” Bryan scratched under the leather aviator cap. “That's a long way down.”

  Steve propped a foot on the ledge, leaned out over and stared at the hard ground. It was a long way down and his stomach let him know that jumping was a bad idea. Stomach acid is like fear, he thought, and it can be a good thing when it warns you of danger or lets you know when you’re about to do something really stupid. The tenants were right to be annoyed. The three of them had no right to trample across these rooftops. If he heard a band of wild teens running across his roof in the middle of the night, he’d be upset too.

  “I'm going back to the nearest fire escape,” Bryan said.

  Nora nodded. “That’s a good idea, let’s go.”

  “You two go,” Steve said, “meet me in the alley across the street.”

  “Are you crazy? You can't do this.” Nora said.

  “Yes he can,” Bryan said, “now let's go.” Purposely, he twisted hard causing his cape to billow. He sprinted to the nearest escape. Nora followed.

  As Steve studied the distance, he could hear his fri
ends working their way down the escape and was pleased they were being somewhat quiet. His earlier apprehensions over playing superhero returned. Regardless of this newfound strength and speed, the idea of gallivanting around in costumes once again struck him as ludicrous. It was crazy to be running on people’s houses, waking them up, probably scaring the hell out of them and most likely generating several 911 calls.

  “Crap, five minutes in the superhero game and I'm already having doubts.”

  Two costumed figures appeared briefly in his peripheral vision running across the street and disappearing into a narrow alley. His mind wandered back to a sword and sorcery campaign. He had gotten one of his characters, a fighter named Rambone, killed by executing a series of stupid moves. His gaming was entirely out of control and ruled his life, a truth reflected in his grades, chores and personal growth. He hadn’t realized it at the time that the careless maneuvers that got his character killed were an attempt, by a more practical subconscious, to sabotage his gaming addiction.

  Steve focused on the drop. If he landed unhurt, great, but if he broke a leg or both ankles then they could stop this nonsense before anyone else got injured or maybe even killed, too high a price to pay for a little fame and fortune.

  Nora looked up at the heroic figure; Bryan stood tall behind her.

  “He actually looks pretty good up there,” Bryan said, “if I can talk him into wearing a cape, he could really look awesome.”

  Nora gasped loudly!

  “Why in the hell did he do that?” Bryan said.

  Their friend’s thick figure arced upward ten feet and out past the building at least fifteen feet, turning a three story drop into four.

  “Oh, God!” Nora cupped both hands over her mouth.

  “He's going to kill himself,” Bryan said, watching his best friend drop.

  “Oh, thank you Lord.” Nora said.

  A second later Steve hit the ground and released a healthy groan into the cool air. The sound reminded Nora of the boys on the gymnastics team who got a lot of air in their dismounts, but didn't have the discipline to keep their vocalizing down. He dipped at the knees, recoiled and ran toward them. The red “M” on his chest wasn't visible at a distance, but became more so as he bounded closer. Nora said, “That is the strongest feeling of déjà vu I have ever had.” She shook her head as if she were attempting to throw off a dizzy spell.