Better to Die a Hero

by Michael van Dagger

  “What you are witnessing appears to be two males making superhuman jumps along a rooftop and then an amazing three story fall to the street. However, looks can be deceiving. Here to explain what we’re really seeing is our own computer graphics expert Mike Reed. Mike, can you explain why we may not be seeing what we think we see.”

  “Sure Michelle. As you saw, the video was being shot from across the street from a window that was exactly one story lower than the building these so-called super individuals were on. Footage at this upward angle shows the two subjects being propelled upward in the air, not jumping of their own accord. I suspect there are mini trampolines or other vaulting devises setting out of view on that adjacent roof. Because of the filming angle, these devices are kept well out of sight. At this point no video manipulation is needed.”

  “I see, and Mike how about the fall from the top of the building to the street below? It looked plenty real to me.”

  “Well Michelle, this supposed jump down is interesting. We’ve had a panel of experts review this jump footage and what they found is, about one third of the way down both bodies actually begin to slow their descent. As any physics major will tell you, falling objects gain speed as they fall, until that object reaches terminal velocity. The object stays at that speed until it hits ground. But the two individuals slow down. What we are seeing here is a system of harnesses, steel cables and winches. These high tech winches are calibrated to slow the jumper’s descent when a certain length of cable is released. Basically, it puts on the brakes. The cables are then digitally removed from the footage. It used to be that only studios could afford to do this kind of manipulation, but now days the computer equipment to do this kind of digital editing is inexpensive. Our experts say the individuals do hit the ground hard, even though a slowing in descent is taking place. The reason they can walk away without broken ankles can be explained by what we call an exoskeleton.”

  “And what is an exoskeleton?”

  “In this instance it’s basically a system of braces that fit on the exterior of the legs designed to absorb the impact of the landing.”

  “Thanks Mike. Well, there you have it. Before we go to commercial break this is Michelle O’Donnell and New York Journal reminding you that some things are not as they appear.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “I don’t know why you’re getting so upset,” Bryan said, “It was just a hooker and a whoremonger.”

  “Just a hooker?”

  “Yes, that’s what I said.”

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

  Bryan mocked Steve’s voice, “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

  “Stop being an asshole,” Steve said. In all their years of friendship, they had never taken such harsh tones with each other.

  “I’m not being an asshole.” Bryan sat down at Steve’s desk and opened a girlie magazine.

  “You were going to be a doctor, remember. I’ve never heard you refer to people like that before.”

  “Like how?”

  “With an air of disrespect.” Steve pointed his finger. “It’s like, you became powerful and now you think you’re superior to everyone else. You’re just like a jock.”

  “Hey!” The magazine flipped into the air and Bryan sprang out of the chair.

  Steve stepped forward and maintained eye contact. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. That’s how you’re acting.”

  Bryan stood silent for a full minute then sat down. “Can you believe we’ve been pulling these magazines from your neighbor’s trash for six years… you’re right, I’m sorry.”

  “When I heard that scream my testicles shot straight up,” Steve said. “My left one didn’t drop back down till this morning.”

  Bryan smiled.

  “Look,” Steve added, “we just need to be careful. If it got out that a superhero played a joke on someone, and that someone got hurt, it wouldn’t look so good.” Steve examined the recent acne outbreak marking Bryan’s face. That amount of pimples could put anybody in a foul mood.

  “You’re completely right. If that particular eyewitness account makes it into the news, we’ll be considered not only frauds, but dangerous frauds.” Bryan pulled a tube of acne cream from his pocket and headed for the bathroom. “I messed up.”

  “Not to worry buddy,” Steve said.

  “It’ll be your job to keep me grounded.”

  “I can do that. The course we scouted today is going to make us famous. Everyone is going to know we’re for real. We’ll just keep our noses clean and get some exercise.” Steve was relieved. The prank in the alley was a one-time incident, just a momentary stray from the straight and narrow. “Who are we by the way?” he asked. “I mean, shouldn’t we have a team name?”

  “Every good team name has already been taken,” Bryan said, “if we choose a name not in a comic book, I can guarantee you it’s going to sound stupid.” He shrugged his shoulders and shut the bathroom door.

  “How about the New York League of Defenders?” Steve shouted out.

  “No good,” Bryan shouted back. “Sounds too much like an association of lawyers. But I like starting the name with New York.”

  The doorbell interrupted their conversation. “That’s probably Nora,” Steve yelled. “I hope someone gets her costume on video tape tonight.” Steve bolted down the stairs. As always, he moved her swiftly from the smoke filled living room up to his bedroom. If he kept the door to his bedroom shut little of his uncle’s cigarette smoke seeped in.

  “How about The New York League of Superheroes,” Steve yelled at the bathroom door as he and Nora made their way into his room, “or the NYLS for short.”

  “I like it,” Bryan hollered back. “I think I was needlessly limiting myself to a single word name.”

  “What name are you guys talking about?” Nora asked, glancing down at the issue of Big Jugs lying out on the bed.

  “A possible name for our group,” Steve said, following Nora’s glance to the magazine. “When heroes work together in a group of three or more, they need a group name.”

  “What’s happens when only two work together?” she asked, her hand inching toward the magazine.

  “That’s a team up and doesn’t need a name,” he answered. His arm twitched.

  She snatched up the magazine.

  “Is this what you look for in a woman?” she asked, holding the pornography up to his face.

  He looked at the large-breasted cover model. “No.” His voice cracked.

  Running her finger under several words splashed across the cover she read, “Get your daily dose of vitamin double D.” Nora socked him in the chest with the magazine. It dropped into his hands. “That’s just stupid,” she said.

  A hint of pain reflected in his laughter as he jammed the magazine under the mattress. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. Normally being playfully punched by a girl was a good kind of pain. “Ah, Nora,” he said, rubbing his chest. “I don’t think you realize how strong you’ve gotten.”

  “I am so sorry,” Nora said, slipping her fingers under Steve’s hand. She made soft circles where she’d hit him. “I am so sorry.” She threw her other arm around his shoulders and planted a long kiss on his cheek. “It’s lucky you’re the only guy I ever hit. I could probably end up hurting someone.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, “the pain was worth it.”

  The two sat and made small talk. Having a beautiful girl this close was unbelievable and he kept picturing her naked. He’d catch his mind wandering the curves of her body, then snap back to attention and nod as though he’d heard every word she’d said.

  “Bryan sure has been in the bathroom a long time,” she said. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s okay,” Steve whispered. “He just broke out with a bad case of acne. He’s in there popping them. It’s made him a little cranky.”

  “I know how he feels,” Nora whispered back. “Too bad you guys can’t use makeup to cover them up.”

  “It must be nice,”
he replied.

  “It is, but we girls have our problems. My period was so heavy I almost decided not to go out tonight.”

  “Oh…,” Steve said, looking about the room as if searching for lost keys.

  Nora giggled at Steve’s blushing face. “Oops,” she said, “When you grow up with eight brothers and sisters you just get used to stuff.”

  “I’m glad you decided to come out with us,” he said.

  “No way am I getting left out of the next video. I was so jealous watching you two on TV.” She leaned back on the bed and she ran her fingers through her hair. “You looked really good. Has anyone noticed you’ve lost weight?”

  “Not really, everyone is so preoccupied with graduation nobody is paying attention to anything else. The only reason I’m not freaking out over graduation is because of the powder.” Steve pointed to the bottle on the shelf. “You being a level headed girl and all, you don’t realize what this means to a couple guys like Bryan and me.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Nora said.

  “To us this powder is a dream come true. I think you’ve noticed we’re not like the other guys in school. Because we’re into comics and role playing, I think maybe we don’t live in reality as much as the rest of you.” Steve scratched his knee even though it didn’t itch. “Of all scenarios that could have unfolded, this powder had to find its way into the hands of two fantasy geeks. This is either going to be the greatest thing that could have happened or the worst. I don’t know which.”

  “I don’t think you’re a geek,” Nora said, making a conscious effort to Pat his thigh, softly.

  “Well, thank you,” he said. “Just to let you know, Bryan is taking this whole superhero thing way too seriously. So don’t be offended if he’s a little short at times.” Steve lowered his voice and leaned in, “He believes his whole future depends on this powder. He is determined to be a real superhero and I mean he is dead serious.”

  “Gotcha,” Nora replied. “I think I’ll just avoid the whole subject.”

  The bathroom door flew open and out popped Ectoman, long red flannels and boxers, minus the black cape. “Next,” he said, knowing Nora would need to slip in and costume up.

  When she finished and stepped out, the boys were surprised to see her in black sneakers, jeans and tank top.

  “That didn’t take long,” Steve said, hiding his disappointment at her less than exotic attire.

  “Hey, what’s up? No shorts or nylons or sexy thingies,” Bryan blurted out.

  “Not this time boys,” Nora said, “The last time I went out I ruined my nylons, and loosened the heels on my favorite boots. Besides, you still want to keep your identities secret, right. My girlfriends know every piece of clothing I own. If we get videotaped you know what that means.”

  “Good thinking Déjà vu.” Bryan said in his deep superhero voice. “That reminds me,” his voice returning to normal, “I should probably stop putting my costume in the wash for my mother to do.”

  The three laughed and Steve headed for the bathroom. He was already dressed from head to toe in black with a red “M” painted on the shirt. He just needed to use the facilities.

  “Can I wear your trench coat, Steve?” Bryan asked. “I need to cover up my costume.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed the coat and two backpacks setting on the floor. “Were going to head down to the car. Catch you in a couple of minutes.”

  “Okay,” the teenager said, examining his belly in the mirror. He caught a glimpse of the trashcan. What the hell. His friend’s acne often resulted in blood spotted tissue, but the amount of red saturated tissue look more like a nosebleed of major proportions. This guy doesn’t know his own strength, Steve thought, he’s squeezing his face with superhuman strength now.

  Steve made a mental note to discuss this with Bryan. Not only was his friend going to need to eat better now that they were expending great amounts of energy on these patrols, but they would all need to be aware of how their strength affected their own bodies and the bodies of people around them. One look at the welt Nora left on his chest convinced him of that.

  * * *

  Nora stood in the shadows of a Brooklyn alley and observed the descent of her friends, the self-proclaimed fantasy geeks. She would have liked to dispute Steve’s self-assessment; however, everyone in high school saw Steve and the group he ran with much the same way—if not harsher. Personally, she never labeled anyone geek, nerd or spaz, but she could hear those exact words echoed throughout the school hallways directed at Steve and other kids like him.

  “The news cast was right,” she said, “I don’t know how, but we definitely slow down before we hit the ground.” She scooped up Steve’s arm. “There’s something more. I’ve been tumbling all my life, and I’ve got a pretty good handle on the physics of gymnastics, bodies in motion and all that. First I thought it was due to increased strength, but I’ve noticed my tumble runs seem a little too perfect.”

  “What do you mean by too perfect?” Steve asked, watching Bryan push the fallen goggles back in place. The jar of these landings always bumped his friend’s eyewear askew.

  “It’s like if I push off at just slightly the wrong angle my momentum still carries me in exactly the right direction.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s like I can’t make a mistake, or it’s like I’m making the mistakes but defying the laws of physics.”

  “I have a theory,” Bryan said, while tightening the strap on the aviator goggles. “Let’s move up top and I’ll tell you guys.” The spring and release of Bryan’s long legs carried him far up the side of the building, at least seven feet higher than either Steve or Nora. A ledge of decorative brickwork running the perimeter of the building served as a launch point and he ascended another two stories.

  Steve struggled to keep up with his tall friend and he thought back to a time he and Bryan would go tree climbing. A time before gaming and computers sucked them into a sedentary life style. Bryan’s reach allowed handholds on branches no one else could get to, making him the fastest climber in the park and the one time they played tennis at Bryan’s father’s country club, the leverage in those long arms sent balls flying so hard they whistled through the air. The kid didn’t have much control; everyone in the vicinity spent time ducking. Still the strength potential in those gangly extremities amazed everyone there, especially the people who got hit.

  “Your jumping is really coming along,” Steve said. “So what’s this theory of yours?”

  “You two are going to have to sit down for this.” Bryan shucked off his backpack and pulled out a canteen.

  “Where’s your cape?” Nora asked, sitting down cross-legged.

  “Ah…Well… you see,” he answered. “Steve and I have discovered the importance of consuming water during these patrols. And carrying other items we might need, such as a first aid kit and the like… thus necessitating the need for a backpack.” Bryan liked the direction his explanation was going and switched to one of the comedy voices in his repertoire, a yellow-skinned bug-eyed character called Homer. “Thus, the cape needed to be replaced by the backpack... the two being incompatible.”

  “Okay,” Nora laughed. “I thought it might have something to do with the diarrhea Steve told me you had, but I’ll let you get on with your theory.”

  “D’oh!” Bryan said. His voice returned to normal. “You see, everyone thinks telekinesis is the moving of objects with the mind, for instance this canteen.” He took a drink and sat it down between them. “My mind reaches out and either moves the air molecules under the canteen to lift it or maybe acts on the molecules that make up the canteen itself. On the Internet or in books I see the bending of spoons as an example, but what if that’s not how telekinesis works at all. What if in reality, telekinesis can only affect your own molecules, the molecules that make up your own body.”

  “I see,” Nora said, “So, you think we’re causing our bodies to fall slower when we jump.”

  “Yes,” Bryan answered. “And
maybe our strength isn’t coming from some kind of enhanced muscular change at all. Maybe when we lift something heavy, telekinesis is helping move all the molecules in our arm to make the lift possible. This might explain why our jumps are so perfect. I think our motion may take us to a location, not because we made a perfect jump at it, but because subconsciously we’re pushing our bodies to that location.”

  “That makes a lot of sense,” Steve said to Bryan, “but have you looked at your thighs lately? You have three muscles in front that dance the mambo when you jump around. I can see them flexing under your costume when you walk.”

  “That’s a good point,” Nora said, taking a drink from Steve’s canteen. “We’ve only been at this a short time. If telekinesis was responsible for a hundred percent of your strength, I don’t think you’d see that kind of development.” Nora jabbed a finger into Bryan’s thigh. “Hard as rock.”

  “There must be a combination of things going on,” Bryan said. “A muscular enhancement coupled with what I’m going to call internal telekinesis. We know some force is slowing our falls and acting on our movement. Of course, the coolest power here is this déjà vu thing you have going. I have a theory about that too.”

  “What’s that,” Nara asked.

  “Women’s intuition,” Bryan said, “You’ve had your woman’s intuition enhanced and it’s taken the form of déjà vu. That’s why Steve and I didn’t get any mental powers. You have to have the capacity to start with. It’s a known fact that women are more prone to psychic abilities” Bryan looked at Steve. “You still haven’t developed anything like that have you? I know I haven’t.”

  “I don’t think so. Although when I concentrate I can remember things to such an extent I think I now have a photographic memory.”

  “My memory was already excellent,” Bryan said, “so I barely notice the difference.”