Fid's Crusade

by David Reiss

  I stepped back, and it seemed as though a sea of relief washed over the assembled crowd.

  “Well then, heroes...I suppose that I will take my lea—”

  I dodged the steel I-beam that Titan had swung at me; the attack had been almost identical to the one he’d launched after our battle against Technos. As the old saying goes: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, homicide becomes a viable option.

  “What makes you think we're going to let you go?” the silver-clad hero glared. “You're still a villain, and we have you surrounded.”

  “Three reasons,” I replied calmly. “First: I just saved the Earth and freed dozens of other planets, so I suspect that the more honorable among you might be tempted to give me a bye...just this once.”

  “Second: The field is littered with the wounded. Only an idiot would begin another fight now and endanger the casualties.”

  “Third, and most importantly...”

  The heavy-combat drones had arrived from their long flight from Boston; at my command, they uncloaked with a roar of thunder, thick tendrils of energy arcing from starfield-and-red pillar to starfield-and-red pillar. A full dozen twenty-foot-tall orichalcum-framed instruments of terror formed a circle above the field, crackling with enough raw power to make the air itself feel heavy and oppressive.

  “I AM DOCTOR FID!” I re-summoned my warstaff and raised it to the sky; lightning crashed down upon me and my laughter, no doubt, sounded unhinged. “What makes you think that you can stop me?!?”

  And then I left the cowed heroes before they realized that I was bluffing; the drones re-cloaked and carried me home when I once again lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Whisper was singing; I recognized the tune from an animated film but could not recall the title. Something about a girl wanting to go on adventures like her older brothers and railing against the institutional sexism endemic to her native culture, I think. In general, I approved of the supportive message being taught to young girls. In this particular case, however, the idea of Whisper wanting to follow in her older brother's footsteps made me more than a bit uncomfortable.

  “Your voice is beautiful,” I told her, and then I was being hugged.

  She could be a hero instead of a villain, I thought, if she felt a calling to adventure. A real hero, a worthy one! She wouldn't leap into battle just to bolster her ego. She wouldn't abandon people that trusted her. Whisper would be the sort of hero that inspires. Not because of her power, but because of her innate goodness.

  “Lazybones!” Whisper complained, though I could see more relief than annoyance in her glowing blue eyes. “You were asleep for nearly a day!”

  I checked the clock. “Anything important happen while I was out?”

  “Mm!” She beamed cheerfully. “Sphinx and Peregrine were arrested!”

  It was a pleasant surprise that the incarceration occurred so quickly. Some of the crimes that I'd mentioned must have been easy to verify; those in power would not have taken a supervillain's word, even if I'd had the time to lay out all my evidence during my monologue. “And there's no hint that the Legion forces across the galaxy have figured out why their psychic abilities stopped functioning?”

  “Nothing. I've been listening to their subspace communication relays, everyone's panicking and confused.” Smug pride and playful mischief were both evident in the delicate little android's smile. “They didn’t get any warning from Earth at all, and the stealth systems are functioning perfectly.”

  “Excellent.” I closed my eyes and relaxed in my sister's hug. Not even in her second body yet, and she's saved worlds! Whisper was already a hero. I resolved to fabricate an action figure and bring it to Bobby's memorial. “Anything else?”

  “Mm. Lots of little things. Most of them good,” she released her hug and bounced on the edge of the bed. “Oh! I've been answering your work emails! I just thought someone should, 'cause you were asleep.”

  “That's fine.” I was tired again. Medical records showed that significant amounts of work had been performed upon me while I was unconscious; surgical repair, upgraded organ transplants, a transfusion to increase the density of nanitic robots within my system, etc. All the operations had proceeded flawlessly, but my body was burning through all of its resources to heal. I ordered one of my medical-automotons to increase the rate of intravenous glucose and nutrient supplementation accordingly.

  “Everything's fine,” I murmured as I began to drift off. “I promise.”

  It felt decidedly better, to make a promise and to mean it.

  ◊◊◊

  “Welcome to KNN CapeWatch, I'm your host Stan Morrow.”

  “And I'm Stan's co-host, Pamela Green.”

  “Joining us today is a retired superhero who'd been one of the founding members of the New York Shield: Cloner.”

  “Thanks for having me, Stan. Pam.”

  “It's our pleasure. We're both very glad to see you up and about so soon after the Legion incident.”

  “Well, again, thank you Pam...but I really don't like that the media has chosen that phrase to describe what happened.”

  “And why is that?”

  “The word 'incident' refers to a singular event. The Legion agents were here for years! This wasn't an incident, it was an incursion.”

  “When most of the reporters and pundits use the word 'incident', I think that they're referring primarily to that final battle-”

  “Well, they shouldn't. That fight was the very-visible tip of an iceberg, but there was lot more going on under the surface.”

  “I know that investigators are still reviewing the testimony of- that is, looking into allegations made by other involved parties-”

  “You can say her name, Pam. I won't explode.”

  “Reviewing the Sphinx's testimony, then. From what I understand, investigators have uncovered that the Legion was responsible for hundreds of deaths, illegal use of political influence, blackmail and bribery of public officials...”

  “All of that is true, and more besides.”

  “Do you remember...?”

  “I remember enough. Bits and pieces. I'm not going to talk about that in public; I own those nightmares, they're my personal property.”

  “Is there anything that you did want to talk about...?”

  “Yeah. Waking up free, that first time. One of me'd fallen off the rooftop, got saved by Bugly and then stunned; Fid burned the rest of my bodies. Good riddance, I know what they were used for. But that first time waking up... Y'know, that was the first time I've been down to a single body in more 'n two decades? I'd forgotten what it was like, looking at the world through only two eyes.”

  “I can't imagine.”

  “That first moment waking up...It stuck with me. I've literally died thousands of times, but that was the first time I remember coming to life. Life's precious. I'm coming out of retirement to take over leadership of the Shield. I want to - need to - rebuild it into something better!”

  “I think that I speak for all of New York when I say that we'll be happy to have you back. Congratulations!”

  “Thanks.”

  “Can we go back to talking about Sphinx?”

  “Oooh. Y'know what? Yeah. Yes.”

  “You'd known her for a long time.”

  “Not that long, really...We were friends for maybe five years? That's a long time when you work together in a dangerous occupation, though. We had each other’s' backs through a lot of fights.”

  “Some of the allegations that have leaked to the press have been horrific. When you knew her, was there any indication that she was the sort of person who could commit these sorts of crimes?”

  “Not at all. But, here's the thing...I understand her. I'll never forgive her - she led the Legion to my door! - but I do understand, maybe better than anyone else alive. Those bastards were in my head for a long time so I completely get why she was so afraid. Sphinx was absolutely, pathologically terrified. She felt trapped and she almost dr
agged the rest of the planet into the trap with her.”

  “It sounds like it was a near thing.”

  “We should have lost. We would have if it weren't for Doctor Fid.”

  “That statement isn't going to make you very popular. Many people blame Doctor Fid for how long the battle lasted.”

  “That's very true, Pam. The leader of the Boston Guardians has been quite vocal in claiming that the villain interfered.”

  “Titan's a good leader and a strong fighter, but I think he's wrong here. Fid had a plan and the plan worked.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know the plan worked because we're all here, alive. Look, the man's hurt a lot of good people. He should pay for his crimes. But y'know what? He saved the world. He saved me from something worse 'n death. So...Doc, if you're listening? I owe you a beer.”

  ◊◊◊

  The hashtag #IOweFidABeer trended high on the Internet for weeks. Humorous videos made the rounds, and the Brooklyn Knights made a show of carrying around a six-pack just in case they ran into me.

  It was a craft beer from a microbrewery they pass during their patrols; a Scottish ale, flavored with orange zest. They foiled my robbery of a firm that produced protective-gear for the military, and then I helped them drink the beer.

  ◊◊◊

  To: “Doctor Fid” ‹doctor.fid@..›

  From: “MortarThyme” ‹m.thyme@anontor.7kbnjnv2.no›

  Subject: Meet @ Gallery?

  u should come to gallery on friday. we r having a party 2 remember friends lost in teh fire. also, i have q about ur NYSE hack, doing sumthing simlar 2 quest automotive. collabor8?

  To: “MortarThyme” ‹m.thyme@anontor.7kbnjnv2.no›

  From: “Doctor Fid” ‹doctor.fid@..›

  Subject: Meeting at the Gallery

  MortarThyme,

  Thank you for the invitation. I'd heard about the gathering but was unsure if I would be welcome. My membership was revoked quite publicly. Are you certain that it would be all right if I attend?

  - Doctor Fid

  To: “Doctor Fid” ‹doctor.fid@..›

  From: “MortarThyme” ‹m.thyme@anontor.7kbnjnv2.no›

  Subject: Re: Meeting at the Gallery

  i spoke 2 lucky7, he says u r always welcum. doctor fid should not be in ftw, but is ftw's friend. need help w quest hack. plz?

  To: “MortarThyme” ‹m.thyme@anontor.7kbnjnv2.no›

  From: “Doctor Fid” ‹doctor.fid@..›

  Subject: Re: Re: Meeting at the Gallery

  MortarThyme,

  I'll be there. And thank you.

  ◊◊◊

  There's an old joke among the patrons of Lassiter's Den: “If you think that you've finally killed your nemesis, but you don't find a body? You didn't kill your nemesis.” The jape was always followed by the corollary: “If you do find a body, the odds go up to fifty percent.” So, really, it shouldn't have come as a surprise when a fishing vessel in Maine found a very haggard Miguel Espinoza lost at sea.

  When he'd dissipated his mist form in order to escape the Legion telepath's control, the Red Ghost had fully expected to die; instead, he’d been shunted between dimensions to a lush and wild alternate Earth. Due to time-dilation effects, the Ghost had been forced to survive for six months as a hunter and subsistence farmer before he finally figured out how to reverse the process to return home.

  Superheroes have such odd lives.

  And so, the deal to bring inertial-dampening technology to the public was rekindled. Also, I was forced to drop millions from Doctor Fid's slowly-recuperating holdings in order to hide accounts that might be vulnerable to the Red Ghost's forensic-accounting wizardry.

  Damn the man.

  (It was good to have him back.)

  ◊◊◊

  Daniel McClelland seemed like a good kid. Mid-to-late twenties, square jawed, broad chested and handsome; I'd built his new artificial body based upon photos taken during his last deployment as a soldier. He was adjusting well to his new situation and accompanied his grandfather to the signing of the Synthetic American's Rights law.

  He'd never be a true AI, not like Whisper; his neural network was limited to human norms, and his multitasking capability no greater than that of any other well-trained, intelligent soldier-turned-possible-politician. Still, Whisper was developing a childish crush on the older android.

  The only question was: Should it be Terry Markham or Doctor Fid that took Daniel aside and delivered the appropriate ominous threats?

  ◊◊◊

  Once again, I reviewed the footage and felt my lips purse in a thoughtful frown.

  In the beginning, the battle had been chaos. There wasn't any reliable video of the opening moments; apparently, the Brooklyn Knights had arrived first and tried to launch an assault on the Mercer-Tallon building. The New York Shield quickly appeared and tried to stop the attack, but then the Legion's mind control became a factor. Both teams joined forces to try and get to the building but were driven back. By that point, the building's force-fields had been enabled and the defensive energy weapons were deployed; reporters began to spread information and more spandex-clad hooligans began to trickle in to participate in the madness.

  Initially, the gathered champions had acted with little tactical planning: they pointed themselves at a perceived threat and leaped to intervene. The focus had been upon safely subduing those under the effect of Legion mind control and continuing the ongoing (and unsuccessful) assault upon the aliens' headquarters. As the number of wounded began to mount, however, the tactics began to change. Some heroes started fighting defensively, working to protect the casualties and to bring them to safety. Others broke off to ferry civilians out of harm's way and form a perimeter.

  It wasn't glorious work. There were no ego-boosting, flashy moves made while smiling to a camera. They were simply performing tasks that would better protect those in need.

  By the time Doctor Fid had shown up, the shift in behavior had already been in place and I hadn't noticed; I'd been distracted by the sheer number of combatants and by my confrontation with Sphinx. And then Valiant had arrived.

  Some heroes continued their mindless brawl, pride demanding that they assert their dominance over the alien threat with naught but physical power. But others, when faced with an opponent they could not overcome and an alien mental attack against which they had no defense, gathered to do what they could to protect the wounded; to help others escape, to band together and keep the weakest among them from harm. They chose to stay...not for acclaim, but because it was the right thing to do. To provide what help they could even when confronting Armageddon.

  They weren't perfect, I was sure; those men and women were human beneath their masks. But when the chips were down, they'd been true heroes.

  It was a refreshing (and also disconcerting) revelation. Some of the most extraordinary instances of selfless bravery and compassion captured on film had been found among individuals who Doctor Fid had long since dismissed as unworthy. Some, even, that I had targeted in the past; perhaps an apology would be warranted. I would need to spend time considering how Doctor Fid would move forward given this new information.

  Still, there would be other deserving targets, other 'heroes' desperately in need of their comeuppance. It was inevitable. Starnyx’s path was lost to me, and rightfully so; attempting to yoke Doctor Fid had been pure folly. I’d taken up my starfield mask with a purpose in mind, and that purpose remained: there were problems to be solved, technological marvels to be created, and—most importantly—noses in urgent need of punching.

  The crusade would endure.

  DOCTOR FID WILL RETURN!

  I hope that you enjoyed reading Fid’s Crusade as much as I enjoyed writing it. If so, please return to the store from which this ebook was downloaded and leave a review.

  Reviews make sad authors into happy authors!

  For up-to-date information about new releases, please visit my web site at: www.davidhreiss.com


  And continue reading for a preview of

  Behind Distant Stars

  Book Two in the Chronicles of Fid, available for pre-order now at: Amazon.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  The first strike took me by surprise, a blast of cerulean energies that splattered harmlessly off the back of my helm. Alarm shocked through my system and my heart pounded in my chest; the suit’s sensors should have detected and prioritized any threats before so near an approach. Their failure indicated the possibility of a dangerously competent enemy. Long-ingrained reflex guided my quick spin and energy-weapons activation, instantaneously ready to counterattack with deadly force.

  My disbelieving gaze was still focused upon my opponent when the second ineffective beam reflected off my chest.

  “Surrender, Doctor Fid,” my assailant demanded. “You won’t escape this time!”

  I was floating a few inches above the ground and encased within what is often described as the most fearsome and technically-advanced powered armor in human history. Faceless, emotionless; the suit's surface did not reflect light at all. Within the black was displayed the stars, distant pricks of light and nebulae, the night sky held within my person. Were it not for the crimson glow that seeped from the armor's joints, Doctor Fid would have appeared an imposing man-shaped rift into deep space.

  The silence stretched uncomfortably long.

  “…Do your parents know that you’re out fighting crime at this hour?” I finally asked. “It’s a school night.”

  Evidently, that was a poor choice of phrasing if my goal was to dissuade a rebellious teen-aged superhero from attacking.