How to Defeat a Hero

by J Bennett

  “Aye, aye!” She gives me a salute. Her whiskers tremble.

  I glance at my friend again. “How about I graciously allow Arsenic to beat my ass for a few more mins, and then you can help me suck slightly less on the lasso?” I offer.

  Sequoia smiles. He never seems to mind performing the role of my slowly moving lasso target.

  “Ohhh, she wants to tie you up. Better say yes to that,” Gold drawls as he saunters from the secret elevator, late to practice as usual. I wonder what trouble he’s brewing in his spare time.

  Gold shrugs off a stylish red jacket, letting it drop to the floor. “Be a robo and hang that up, will ya, sweetheart,” he says to Kitty. Beneath the coat he wears garish, neon yellow workout pants and a tight orange tank with gold slashes across it. He looks to Sequoia. “Hey big tree, want to go a few rounds? Let’s see if I can knock you down.”

  Gold knows all my nicknames.

  I give Gold a little shake of my head to let him know exactly what I think of his line. He shrugs. Cam drones buzz over our heads in lazy, automated loops. They record all our practice sessions, but unless one of us shatters a femur, none of this footage will likely make it onto the ep. Gold uses this time to practice new quips and fine-tune his character.

  “Alright, what are we doing?” He claps his hands together. “Arsenic, maybe when you’re done embarrassing Iron, you can teach me a few holds?” His gold-dyed eyebrows dance above his goggles.

  Before Mermaid can answer, The Professor’s office door opens. He and Leo have been huddled in there for at least a half-hour. We all perk up. Gold puffs out his chest and Mermaid pulls out her ponytail, causing a curtain of blonde and blue hair to tumble down her shoulders.

  Now that our vil is in the scene, our odds of getting some ep time just shot up.

  The Professor’s face is a storm cloud of anger. His thin lips pucker and the tip of his beakish nose is red. Even his wild silver hair seems to be standing a little more on end. He stalks across the room, banging his cane with every step for emphasis. He’s so angry, he’s hardly remembering to limp.

  I glance at Leo, searching his face for clues, but of course I’d have an easier time finding glaciers in the Arctic. His expression is completely unreadable, and he stays back, standing just outside The Professor’s office so as not to be in our frame. When he slips his heavily modified Goggs over his eyes, it’s almost like he disappears, his consciousness transferring to the cam drones that pull from their automatic loops.

  A wallop of fear hits my stomach. What if they found out about my extracurricular visit to Adan’s home this afternoon? I tried to be so careful about ducking away from all the cams, but Leo’s a sneaky bastard. If Leo or The Professor figured out that I know Shine’s true identity and didn’t tell them, they’d probs strap me into the singularity pod until I told them everything, including the name of my robo goldfish when I was five. Then they’d swipe me off the show so fast I’d spin like one of those old-timey tops.

  The Professor makes his way over to the laboratory side of the main room and stands imperiously as we gather in front of him.

  “My elements,” he booms, “last night you failed me, but a good scientist doesn’t give up after one disappointing experiment. They try again, and fortunately for you, I am willing to give you another chance to prove yourselves.”

  Conscious of the cams, I cross my arms over my chest, then see Mermaid has already adopted the same posture. I drop my arms and nod to The Professor. I’ve got to play this breezy. Either they know my secret or they don’t. No sense in broadcasting my guilt.

  “For too long, Big Little City has laughed at my genius,” The Professor booms. “The City Council has refused to fund my leading-edge research. Shield University denied my request to use its labs, and BLC Bank rejected my dearly needed loan requests. They never understood, so it’s time to make them understand.”

  Even as he rants, The Professor is clearly off his game. Gerald, the man behind the Persona, relishes these classic monologues. Usually, he throws his arms around and his voice bounces from strangled whisper to bellowing anger. Today, his voice is loud but flat and his arms dangle at his sides.

  I tune back in as he finishes listing off his grievances. “And so, my elements, in order to complete my singularity pod, I need funds for the last specialized components. In three days’ time…” he pauses to take a breath, but it somehow seems to deflate him. “… In three days’ time, we rob BLC Bank.”

  Stunned silence.

  Rob the bank?

  No big-time vil would lower themselves to performing such a basic, uncreative heist. Only the smallest vils hit the bank, scrounging for something to save their dying careers. Robbing the bank is humiliation. Worse, it’s desperate.

  I feel a wave of embarrassment wash through me on behalf of Gerald, followed by a spark of anger that quickly kindles. This must be the next move by Tatiana Wentworth to drown our show.

  Sequoia recovers first. “Yes, Professor,” he says roughly.

  “Yes, Professor,” Gold follows quickly, trying and failing to hold his signature smirk in place.

  “Yes, Professor,” I force myself to say.

  “Yes, Professor,” Kitty sings and licks her lips suggestively.

  Mermaid is silent. She stares past The Professor at Leo. If she had the ability to shoot lasers out of her eyeballs, I’m sure he’d be a smoldering corpse on the ground.

  To his credit, Gerald squares his bony shoulders and narrows his eyes. “Do any of you have a problem with my decision?”

  We shake our heads, none of us willing to point out that this mission is ratings suicide.

  “Good,” our boss says. “Then let us plan. We have little time to spare.”

  ***

  Two hours later, silence reigns across the lair. The chalkboard is now filled with a scribbled list of supplies, equations, and the beginnings of our bank robbery plan. In one corner, a little chalk stick figure holds a bunch of other unhappy stick figures in a big lasso.

  I stare at the board and sigh. The other henchmen left as soon as they were released. Sequoia invited me over to his place to watch The Professor’s latest ep, but I made up some lame-o excuse about hating to see myself on cam. Mermaid and Gold tailed it too, probably to sulk or worse… start planning their next moves after our show is swiped.

  It’s not over yet, I remind myself as I sling my bag over my shoulder and head to a back door in the lair. We managed to slip away from the Dragon Riders at the mayor’s mansion and tonight’s ep will surely generate buzz. Maybe it will be enough to convince Tatiana Wentworth that our show is worth keeping around. After all, RAE – Ratings Are Everything.

  I walk down the hallway and turn into the small kitchen. Technically, it’s Sequoia’s turn to feed our prisoner, but he let me take over his shift even though it’s a highly valued commodity among us henchmen. The chance to taunt Shine, if one is canny enough with their words and threats, always ups the chances of grabbing a little extra lens time. Sequoia had raised his eyebrows at my request but hadn’t asked questions. He really is a good friend.

  In the small kitchenette, I prepare the tray. Our special guest doesn’t get anything fancy for his meals, just water in a biodegradable cardboard cup and a nutra-pack. I’m about to grab a rando bar as usual, when I stop. I remember that silver holo-frame at Adan’s house, the two girls laughing as their big brother swung them around. Adan is a person. And obviously not a half-bad one at that. His career will be battered when our ep launches, maybe ruined forever if Beacon doesn’t rescue him soon, and it’s all my fault.

  I take down the variety box of nutra-packs and rifle through it. Near the bottom, I find what I’m looking for. Cookies n’ cream flavor. I put it on the tray. As I walk down the hallway, I stumble and the bar tips off the tray. Grumbling, I lean down to pick it up. A cam sits in the corner of the hallway. Quickly, I swipe Adan’s Band from my bag and hold it under the tray while I pick up the bar and toss it back on.

&nb
sp; Adan sits on his bunk when the door to his cell whooshes open. We’re both aware of the cam recording in the room.

  “Ah, I see you’re still here,” I say in a casual tone. “Has your stay with us been satisfactory?”

  “I’d prefer better company,” he says in a bored voice even as his eyes search my face.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” I reply. “I’ll be certain to let management know. We do wish to make your time with us as comfortable as possible. In fact, our chef whipped up this meal just for you.”

  Leo has instructed us to set the tray down near the door. When we leave, Shine’s wrist and ankle tethers extend, giving him range to roam throughout the room. We’re never supposed to approach him or get anywhere near arm’s reach. According to Tickles, many henchmen make this mistake and earn a one-way ticket to getting choked out with shackle tethers.

  Ignoring Leo’s rules and one of the primary directives of The Henchman’s Survival Guide, I march right up to Shine and shove the tray into his lap. His hand touches mine, then feels the Band, which he shoves under his leg, using the tray as a cover.

  I dance back, out of reach and sneer at him. “Beacon isn’t coming to save you, my little pearl.”

  Shine nods and I see a small smile touch his lips.

  I should go, but Leo will be suspicious if I don’t vamp for the cam a little more.

  “And our singularity pod is almost ready,” I tease Shine. “I’m not exactly sure how it works, but I can’t wait to find out.”

  Shine tilts up his chin, slipping back into his role. “If I get crushed in that singularity pod, at least I’ll die knowing I made the world a better place. What about you?”

  I scramble to think of a good line. “If I die knowing I made you and a few other capes suffer, that’s good enough for me,” I manage. Not exactly a brills comeback.

  Shine raises an eyebrow.

  “Enjoy the meal,” I sputter and turn to the door.

  “My compliments to the chef,” Shine says and laughs as I stomp out.

  Okay, so no points for lines, but at least I got Adan his Band back. Favor complete. That’s one weight off my shoulders. Now, if I can only figure out how to turn our sadpocalypse mission into a success.

  Just as I pass The Professor’s private office, the door slides open.

  “Iron,” my boss says in that deep, chilling voice of his, “join me for a moment. I’ve something to discuss with you.”

  He knows. The thought crashes through my brain. He knows and he’s going to swipe me. It’s everything I can do not to gulp as I take halting steps into The Professor’s office.

  Chapter 9

  We have all the confidence in the world in NASA. There's way too much money on the line for them to screw up a fourth time. Not to mention how many Stream followers they'd lose if we go out in a huge ball of flames. ~ Phoenix Shuttle Commander Thane-Ambrose Garcia, Live Q&A on NASA Stream

  ~

  As I slink into my boss’s office, I expect to see The Professor. But it’s his alter ego, Gerald, who greets me from behind a massive desk. He still wears The Professor’s costume–the singed lab coat and pulsating, multi-colored bowtie—but the worn expression on his face gives away the fact that my landlord sits across from me, not the zany character he plays across the Streams.

  “No cams, Leo,” Gerald says, waving a dismissive hand. A small cam drone that has approached the doorway behind me retreats back into the main gym just before the door slides shut.

  I’ve never been in Gerald’s office before, not even on the secret tour of the lair Matthew gave me several years ago. According to Matthew, his father spent hours every day in this small room after his show was swiped, meandering through crinkled blueprints of his solar furnace or using the old Pod in the corner to watch eps of his show.

  Today, the office is cluttered and dank, obviously re-decorated for the new show. A massive chart of the periodic table hangs on the wall, each square filled with a glowing holographic image of an element. Old, yellowed scientific textbooks, like the kind students used half a century ago, line a rusted shelf on the side of the room. Old parts fill another shelving unit and physical blueprints of The Professor’s singularity pod lie across his wide desk. On top of the blueprints sits an elegant white plate filled with the discarded crusts of a grilled cheese sandwich.

  “Have a seat.” Gerald motions to an old chair on the other side of his desk. I plop down and it squeaks with my weight. I’m pretty sure it’s been here since his original show. I tuck my hands into my lap unsure of what expression to show. There are no cams in the room, but it’s starting to feel more and more automatic to “mind my face.”

  I force my eyes to meet Gerald’s gaze and try to project a mix of polite inquisitiveness and breezy confidence. Deep lines dig into Gerald’s forehead and heavy crescents curve around each side of his mouth. His sharp, beaky nose and watery blue eyes are so familiar. He gave those features to his son. Matthew has always looked more fragile, more breakable than his loud, energetic father, but right now, Gerald is more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him.

  “I believe congratulations are in order,” Gerald says. He tents his hands over his desk, his right elbow almost hitting the rim of the plate.

  I think my spine actually trembles. He knows. He’s going to play this out. Tease and taunt me before firing me. But then why send the cams away?

  When I don’t say anything, Gerald continues. “Tonight’s ep was excellent. The viewers are, what do the kids say? Gushing.” Gerald gives me a wan smile that doesn’t look proud or happy. “I have you to thank for that. Shine’s capture will reverberate throughout the city. It will reinforce my reputation and begin to build yours as well.”

  “I didn’t see the ep,” I blurt out. Is he toying with me? Lifting me up only to swat me down?

  “No?” Gerald frowns. “See that you do. And I suppose your Iron Persona Stream is live. Be sure to attend to that regularly. Your fans, no doubt wish to hear from you.”

  “K…” I mumble. Leo, or more likely, one of his virtual production assistants set it up last week and gave me access. He’s already posted a few pics to the Stream and some short clips of my performance during the henchmen tryouts, but I’ll be expected to add updates and interact with fans. I can’t help but grimace. Constant Stream engagement isn’t just a requirement of my job, it’s a survival skill for any persona (lowercase p) hoping to stay relevant to viewers. But all I see is more work, more fakery, more Fame Game flattery.

  I grab the sides of the chair with my sweaty palms. “Is that all?”

  “Iron, I… I mean, Alice. There is something else. Something delicate.” Gerald clears his throat. “I, well, I suppose this is somewhat unorthodox due to our villain-henchman relationship…”

  I strain to follow along. He must know I helped Shine. He’s going to swipe me after all.

  “I just… I just would very much appreciate it if…” Gerald pauses, as if he’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, unsure if he should take the plunge. “…if you can provide an update on my son.”

  Plunge taken.

  I stare at him as all my thoughts lurch and shift. Then it downloads. He’s not swiping me. He’s asking about Matthew.

  “Oh, uh, yes, of course,” I say.

  “I don’t wish to invade his privacy, of course,” Gerard says quickly. “I only wish to ensure that his health is good. Mental and physical.”

  Gerard’s eyes shy away from mine. His fingers twitch. It’s heartbreaking. Silently, I curse Matthew for his stubbornness, for the resentment he carries against his father like some badge of pride.

  “Well, to be honest, I haven’t had as much time to spend with him recently, due to the new job,” I admit. I lean back in the chair, wondering if I should voice my worries. Matthew’s been anxious lately. I remember how he rocked on the couch this afternoon. He’s beginning to spiral, but he would never want me to tell his father. Do I owe it to him to keep my mouth shut, or does Gerald dese
rve to know that another storm threatens on the horizon?

  “He’s… he’s… fine,” I manage. “I mean, fine by Matthew standards. He’s training for a trivia show.”

  Gerald nods. “Yes, he told… I’d heard that. Is he any good?”

  “Yeah. He’s stuffed more facts into his brain than most robos could hold on their chips.” The small smile on Gerald’s face encourages me. “Let’s see,” I say, searching for safe topics. “He’s been painting his fingernails black. He eats too many protein packs, and Betty has a new dragon tattoo on her chest.”

  Gerald nods, happily accepting these small crumbs.

  What I don’t say is, Matthew feels isolated. He still blames you for his panic attacks and for pushing his mom away by obsessing over the show. He thinks you broke his mind by turning him into a mini-villain as a kid before he understood your show was just semi-reality. He thought it was real.

  “I cannot tell you how much I truly appreciate your insight,” Gerald says. Even though he wears the costume of The Professor, I can’t see any of that bombastic vil in the old man sitting on the other side of the desk. I see a father struggling to understand his son the only way he can, through someone else.

  Without thinking, I lean across the desk. “I’ll always look out for Matthew,” I vow. “He’s got a sadness inside of him, but he’s an incredibly loving and wonderful person.”

  Matthew is the only person in this whole town I would trust with my life. He’s the one I would call if I needed help; the one who would come to my rescue even if it didn’t serve his own objectives. He is selfless, at least when it comes to his friends.

  When it comes to his father…

  “I fear I have torn his soul in a way that seems irreparable,” Gerard says. His smile seems heavy. Now those blue eyes finally come up and meet mine. “I apologize. That is not a burden you deserve on your shoulders.”

  “I hope he forgives you someday,” I say impulsively. “He’s only hurting himself with all this resentment.”