by Lucas Flint
Fro-Zen leaned forward and puffed on his cigarette for a moment before continuing. “I wanted to be a hero. I grew up thinking that superheroes fought for truth, justice, and the American way. That’s how that phrase goes, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but don’t they do that? I mean, Rubberman has defeated loads of supervillains and criminals before, right?”
“Yeah, but not out of the goodness of his heart,” said Fro-Zen. His tone became even more bitter. “He didn’t go into the business because he wanted to save the world or protect people. Like every other superhero, he wanted the money. He saw an opportunity to become filthy rich. He doesn’t care about the average person. He only cares about whatever will advance his career and swell his bank account.”
“Well, can’t he make money and keep the people safe, too?” I said. “It’s not like those goals are mutually exclusive, after all.”
“Ah, but sometimes they are,” said Fro-Zen. “I presume Dennis has never told you about the woman he left to die because she couldn’t afford his services?”
“No, he didn’t,” I said.
“Of course not,” said Fro-Zen. “Dennis has a tendency to keep secrets from everyone, including his employees. Wouldn’t want people knowing just how much of a money-grubbing bastard he is, eh?”
My temper rose at Fro-Zen’s attack on Rubberman’s character, but I said, in a calm tone, “Tell me what happened.”
“Very well,” said Fro-Zen. He puffed on his cigarette for a moment before starting. “About a month after I started working for Dennis, a woman approached us. She was a pretty young thing, but also pretty poor. She claimed that she was being stalked by a supervillain, her ex-husband who was trying to kill her. She wanted us to protect her, since we were offering bodyguard services at the time. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t afford our rates and Dennis wouldn’t lower them even after she showed us proof that she was in terrible danger. I tried to get Dennis to make an exception for her, but Dennis told me that it wouldn’t be a wise use of our time and money, so we sent the woman away.”
“What happened to the woman?” I said.
“She was killed by her ex-husband not a day after we rejected her plea for help,” said Fro-Zen. He laughed, a harsh sound. “We could have prevented it. We could have saved her, but Dennis was just a greedy bastard who cared more about tie-in toy lines and movie deals than saving the lives of innocent people. That’s what started me down the path to discovering the truth about the superhero industry.” He looked at me with creepy eyes; it looked like he hadn’t gotten any sleep. “Know what I found out, kid?”
I shook my head, although I had a feeling I already knew. “No, what?”
“Most superheroes are like Dennis,” said Fro-Zen. “For all their talk about protecting the people and fighting evil, they really care more about money and branding than anything. They’ll reject certain things while embracing others if they believe it will help their business. Usually, that means leaving poor people to fend for themselves while providing the rich with even more protection than they already have or doing lucrative licensing deals over helping innocent people who need their aid. It’s the dark secret of the superhero industry; most are in it for the money and are willing to do anything to get it, even if that means putting innocent lives in danger.”
“Maybe Rubberman made a mistake,” I said, although even I didn’t think I sounded very persuasive. “How do you know he hasn’t changed?”
“Because I know Dennis, and I know he’s a greedy bastard,” said Fro-Zen. “All superheroes are the same. They put money first, fame second, and the people dead last, if they even consider them at all. They’re not much different from the supervillains and criminals they claim to oppose; the only difference is that they have the government’s blessing.”
I bit my lower lip, but then a thought occurred to me and I pointed at Fro-Zen. “But you killed Slinger. I read about it online. How does that make you better than him?”
“Slinger was a bastard through and through, even worse than Dennis in my opinion,” said Fro-Zen. “He paid off more than a few politicians to look the other way while he did all sorts of horrible things. Trust me, the world is better off without him. And the world will be better off once Dennis is dead, too.”
“So you want to kill Rubberman,” I said. “Is that your ultimate goal? Your big master plan?”
“Killing Dennis is just one part of it,” said Fro-Zen. He spread his arms, like he was trying to indicate the whole world. “I want to destroy the superhero industry and the people in the government who enable it with their laws. The entire industry is corrupt to its core; there are only a handful of people who are even trying to do the right thing, but even they get distracted by greed and fame. All of it must be burned to the ground.”
“What gives you the right to do that?” I said. “And, if that’s your goal, then why did you disappear for so long? What have you been doing since breaking out of prison?”
Fro-Zen lowered his arms and smoked his cigarette. “What gives me the right? I took it upon myself. It’s about the only lesson from Dennis that I’ve kept: ‘If you want something done right, you’d better do it yourself.’ I don’t need anyone’s approval to do the right thing.”
I found myself in agreement with him, disturbingly enough. It made me wonder just how different from him I really was.
“As for what I’ve been doing for the past four years, training and planning, of course,” said Fro-Zen. “I’m not the only disgruntled ex-sidekick or even ex-superhero who thinks this way. There are more of us—far more of us—than you’d think. And I am the one who has brought us all together.” He looked at me with a crazy grin. “And together, we’re going to turn not just this industry, but the whole world, upside down. We’re the real heroes, not greedy bastards like Rubberman or Slinger.”
“Not unless we stop you,” I said, although my voice shook when I spoke, probably due to how cold the air around me was.
“How terrifying,” said Fro-Zen in an amused voice. “Listen, kid, the superhero industry has grown corrupt to its core. It’s a tree whose roots became diseased long ago, and I am the one who will cut it down and toss it on the fire to burn for eternity.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I said. “Aren’t you afraid that I will tell Rubberman and other people about this?”
“Dennis already knows what I’m doing because I told him as much when I quit working for him four years ago,” said Fro-Zen. “I’m telling you this because I see a lot of myself in you: Young, naive, and wanting to do the right thing. You do want to do the right thing, don’t you?”
I nodded. “Yeah, although I also want to save up for a car.”
“I wanted to do the same thing, although my greater motivation was to be a hero,” said Fro-Zen. “So I’m offering you a choice: Join me in burning the corrupt tree that is the superhero industry or suffer the same fate that awaits Dennis and every other corrupt son of a bitch in this industry.”
“You want me to join you?” I said. “Why?”
“Because I think you’re a good kid at heart,” said Fro-Zen, “ignorant because Dennis kept you that way, rather than because you don’t want to know the truth. I wanted you to have the knowledge that you could use to make the right choice yourself.”
I stood there, shivering slightly in the cold despite my jacket. I didn’t like what Fro-Zen said at all, but at the same time, I couldn’t deny that there was some truth to what he said. It did seem weird to me that superheroism was a business. Shouldn’t superheroes do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do, not because they will get paid for it? The thought of rejecting or ignoring an innocent person’s plea for help just because they couldn’t afford our fee was uncomfortable, to say the least, even if it was legal.
On the other hand, Fro-Zen struck me as mentally unhinged. I didn’t know if he’d always been like this or if he had simply grown more and more insane over the years. I wondered if he had
met anyone who had influenced him to think this way or if he had simply come to these conclusions all on his own. Either way, even if his conclusions were right, I wasn’t sure I could support someone as clearly unhinged as him. For that matter, I didn’t think Mom and Dad would be especially thrilled if I told them that I had quit my first job to join a guy who everyone considered a supervillain.
“Will you kill me if I reject your offer?” I said.
“Here and now? No,” said Fro-Zen, shaking his head. He smoked his cigarette and then breathed out a small smoke cloud. “If you say no, I’ll let you go back home and continue working for Dennis. But if we ever find ourselves in battle, I won’t hesitate to kill you like I want to kill Dennis, because I will see you as a supporter of the very industry that I despise with all my heart.”
“Can I think about this first?” I said. “I want to do my own research to see if you’re telling the truth.”
“Fine,” said Fro-Zen. He stood up and brushed off his overcoat. “If you ever want to talk to me again, here is my phone number.”
Fro-Zen drew a folded up card out of his pocket and threw it at me. I caught the card and unfolded it to see that it had nothing but a ten digit phone number on it.
“Once you make your decision, just dial that number and we can talk,” said Fro-Zen. “Until then, don’t let Dennis’ lies fool you. The longer you stand in a swamp, the dirtier you become.”
With that, Fro-Zen turned and walked away. I watched him go until he vanished into the shadows, leaving me feeling uncertain what to believe now.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I made it home pretty quickly and without anyone noticing that I had been missing, but I couldn’t sleep. I was tired, sure, but my mind was distracted by everything Fro-Zen had told me. I didn’t want to believe a word he said and I told myself that he was just a liar, but his words had hit me in a way I hadn’t realized. I didn’t want to say it, but there was some truth to his words. He raised some good points about the morality of the superhero business, points I couldn’t refute. But I mean, the entire industry couldn’t have been rotten, right? Maybe it was just a few bad apples and Fro-Zen was just overreacting. Destroying the whole industry couldn’t have been a reasonable course of action, right? He was just mentally ill or disillusioned by the realities of the business or something.
Of course, I didn’t believe a word of what I told myself, but the alternative was just too dreadful for me to accept. I couldn’t accept the idea that Rubberman was a greedy, money-grubbing jerk who didn’t care about the lives of innocent people. Sure, he focused on money and business a lot, but that’s because he had a business to run. Surely he would never put an innocent person’s life in danger just because it wouldn’t make business sense to protect them, would he?
I did not know the answer to that question and I kept turning it over in mind until my alarm went off and I realized that it was morning. Having not gotten a wink of sleep that night, I nonetheless rushed out of bed, took a shower, and almost ran out of my room, but then I remembered that today was Sunday, which meant that I didn’t have either school or work. Still, I went downstairs to breakfast, where I found Mom and Dad already awake. Mom, wearing her old white apron, was making eggs and bacon at the stove, while Dad was sitting in his chair at the table, reading the news on his tablet while sipping from his coffee every now and then. Mom was whistling a happy tune, while Dad looked like he was still waking up.
“Alex,” said Mom, looking over her shoulder at me as I entered the kitchen. “Want some eggs and bacon? I just made a delicious batch.”
My stomach grumbled when I smelled the eggs and bacon, so I nodded and said, “Sure.”
I took a seat at my spot on the table, but Dad didn’t lower his tablet to look at me. He just said, “Good morning,” his eyes still stuck on his tablet. But that was fine; I was too tired to talk. I just wanted to eat.
Mom came over with a plate of eggs, bacon, and buttered toast, which she put in front me along with a fork and knife. “Here you go, Alex. Made just the way you like them.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said as I took the fork and knife into my hands. “This looks great.”
“You’re welcome,” said Mom, but then she paused and looked at me more closely with some concern. “Alex, you look tired. Did you sleep well last night?”
I had been about to put some eggs in my mouth, but froze when they were halfway between my mouth and the plate. Uh oh. I should have realized that Mom would notice that I was tired; you couldn’t hide anything from Mom. But I had forgotten that and now I didn’t have a good excuse for why I had not gotten much sleep last night.
“Uh, no, I didn’t,” I said. “I was, uh—”
“Worried about Rubberman?” Mom finished for me.
Internally, I sighed, but aloud I said, “Uh, yeah. His fight with Fro-Zen left him in pretty critical condition and he’s still in the hospital.”
“I know,” said Mom. She shook her head. “I know it’s part of the job, but I always worry about superheroes. They keep putting themselves in danger and I wonder how any of them manage to survive. It’s a miracle that they don’t get killed every time they clash with supervillains or criminals.”
“Some superheroes do get killed, though,” said Dad, without looking up from his tablet. “It’s a dangerous profession. The mortality rate is pretty high, even higher than law enforcement or being a soldier in the military. I guess the money they make must be worth it, though.”
That made me wince. I was reminded of what Fro-Zen told me last night. If there wasn’t any money in this profession, would any of these superheroes even bother to put their lives in danger? That made my stomach twist.
“I’m just glad that Rubberman didn’t take you out to fight Fro-Zen,” said Mom, rubbing my shoulder. “If he almost got killed, what would have happened to you?”
“Y-Yeah,” I said. “Rubberman told me that he’s not going to let me fight any criminals or supervillains until I complete my training.”
“Training?” Dad repeated. He looked up at me, a curious look on his face. “What kind of training are we talking about?”
“He’s teaching me how to use my powers,” I said, gesturing at my eyes. “Well, technically, his butler, Adams, is, because Rubberman is still in the hospital. But Adams is a really good teacher. I can already control the temperature and intensity of my blasts.”
“That’s great,” said Dad. “Maybe now I won’t have to worry about you blowing up the car just by looking at it, eh?”
I groaned. “Dad, that was just one time.”
“I know, I know,” said Dad. “But I think a father reserves the right to poke a little fun at his own children every now and then, eh?”
“I guess so,” I said. “Still, I would like to start fighting real criminals and supervillains soon. It’s pretty boring so far.”
“Well, I’m just glad that Rubberman is being responsible and not merely throwing you into combat untrained,” said Mom. “He sounds like a great boss.”
“Yeah, he is,” I said, although I didn’t feel like I really believed that, because I was thinking of what Fro-Zen had said. “I don’t really have anyone else to compare him to, though, given how he’s my first boss.”
“He sounds better than the first boss I had at my first job when I was your age,” said Dad. “My first boss was crazy. The things he had me do …” Dad shook his head. “Good times.”
“Didn’t you tell me that your first boss was good, though?” I said. “You said he taught you a lot of valuable lessons.”
“He did, but he was still pretty crazy,” said Dad. “Craziness and competence often go hand-in-hand, in my experience.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I should be getting my first paycheck on Thursday. I’m going to put part of it aside to save up for my car.”
“That’s great, Alex,” said Mom. “Getting your first paycheck will be amazing, won’t it?”
“I remember when I got my first paycheck,�
� said Dad. He suddenly frowned. “That’s when I decided I didn’t care for the government. Good times.”
I didn’t understand what Dad was talking about, but I supposed it didn’t matter. I began eating the hot, buttery eggs, swallowed, and said, “Yeah, getting my first paycheck is gonna be great.”
My lack of enthusiasm must have been obvious in my voice, because Dad said, “Alex, you don’t sound very happy about that. Got something else on your mind?”
I considered whether I should tell Mom and Dad about my meeting with Fro-Zen. On one hand, they were my parents and deserved to know where I’d been last night. On the other hand, I also didn’t want to get into trouble by telling them that I sneaked out of the house to meet a dangerous supervillain in the middle of night all by myself. But was Fro-Zen really a supervillain at all? I wasn’t sure anymore.
So I said, “Ah, it’s nothing. I was just … well, do you think that superheroes have an obligation to help everyone, including people who can’t afford their services?”
Mom and Dad exchanged puzzled looks. That either meant they had never thought about the question themselves or they were surprised that I had asked it. I wasn’t sure which explanation made more sense.
“Well, yes, I do think that,” said Mom. “If you have the power to help people, then you should do it even if you don’t get paid for it.” She looked at Dad. “Jack, what do you think?”
Dad laid his tablet on the table before him. “I agree in principle, Fanny, but at the same time, I think people should be compensated for their work. We pay our police officers and fire fighters to protect us; why shouldn’t a superhero also be paid for protecting us?”
“Yeah, but …” I tried to think of how to phrase it. “If someone comes to you for help but they can’t afford your services, should you help them anyway or should you turn them away?”
