Broke and Famous

by Elizabeth Gannon

  He dashed to the elevator and smashed the button for the Command Room level, then impatiently tapped his foot until the doors opened again. He’d find Peter, track down Poacher, save the girl and then…

  Peter spoke instantly as the doors of the elevator opened on the Command Room level, he didn’t even bother to look up from his paper as he lounged at the command table. “She’s fine. Chillax, bro.”

  Wyatt scowled, but still felt a rush of relief for some reason at hearing that the girl was still unharmed. “You sure?”

  His brother chuckled like that was funny. “I’m always sure.” He turned the page of his paper. “Sorry. You’re not going to get a great showdown with the villain to save the girl today.”

  Wyatt sank down into one of the command chairs and glanced over at his brother. “Well… that’s good. I’m glad. Where is she then? Shouldn’t we be going after them, anyway?”

  Peter shrugged. “She’s around. There’s no need to chase them down though, you’ll run into them again someday.” He handed him some folders. “Here, have some paperwork. That’ll take your mind off of the girl you’re suddenly stalking.”

  He began absently looking over the completely mundane documents, finding it very hard to focus on anything but the girl. He scowled at his brother. “I think there’s just a little difference between trying to help a girl that’s been kidnapped, and stalking her…” He frowned down at an entry. “…And it looks like doing either will be hard for the foreseeable future, as I’ve apparently been transferred out of the cell block, and assigned to doing more public relations work for The Architect’s company.” He looked up from the paperwork and glanced across the table at his brother. “Why don’t we ever get to DO anything anymore? Why do I have to waste my time helping him make a profit, when there are REAL problems out there I could be helping with?”

  Peter shrugged. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and your dream girl will be a guard there too. Something tells me that girl could end up President of that company one day...”

  Wyatt thought about her for a moment….her curvy body… Stunning eyes… “No…no, I still think I should go after them, right now. Just in case Poacher tries to hurt her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, you’re SURE that she’s going to be okay, right?”

  Peter made an annoyed sound. “Come on, man!” He started chuckling. “How can you possibly be whipped by a girl you met once for five minutes? Have some dignity!”

  “I’m not whipped…I’m just worried.”

  “She’s fine. You go after her now, and everything’s going to get all screwed up. I know she’s made you all impatient, but you need to relax for a little while longer, okay?”

  Wyatt absently began twirling in his padded yellow swivel chair which was bolted to the floor. . Even the chairs here were stifling and uncomfortable. He didn’t want to sit still. He wanted to go find that girl. “It’s not just because of the girl, no matter what you’re thinking over there.” His brother looked unconvinced, and Wyatt scowled at him. “It’s really not… Or maybe it is… I don’t know. In either case, it’s just… You ever find yourself wishing for something to happen? Like for someone to blow something up or rob a bank? Anything. Just so we’d have something to do? I’m bored out of my mind just sitting here waiting. We’ve been trapped in here for days, and the rest of the team is driving me crazy. And that’s when they’re actually around, which they never are. Honest to God, when they brought Poacher in, I was almost happy to see him, just because I’d finally have something to do. THAT’S how bad it is here.”

  Peter glanced at him over his newspaper. “Well, you’ll be happy then, because today is a big day.”

  Wyatt was interested now. His brother was born already knowing everything he would ever know. Every person he would ever meet, every place he’d ever see, every fight he’d ever have. All of it. It was a remarkably useful superpower, in that Peter always knew what was going to happen, because he already remembered it happening.

  “Really? What?”

  Peter shook his head. “Sorry. Can’t say. It’ll be an eventful day though, don’t worry. One for the record books.”

  Wyatt scowled. “You know, you could be a little more forthcoming with information. It might be nice to have a warning, once in a while.”

  Peter shook his head. “I can’t warn you, because I didn’t warn you. It gets complicated, I know, but try to follow along. I don’t remember warning you, so I can’t.”

  Wyatt sighed. “Not even a vague hint? I’m dying here!”

  Peter laughed. It was an odd laugh, like he found Wyatt’s choice of words amusing. “No, you’re not. You my friend, have a destiny. And today is the start of that.”

  Wyatt rested his head on the table.

  Destiny? What the hell did that mean? Destiny. So far, Wyatt’s destiny consisted of wasting his time here. All his life he had been the youngest child of the two most popular superheroes of their generation. Oh God, everyone just loved them. His whole life had been spent in the spotlight. He was “Fabricator,” a superhero dedicated to… whatever it was that superheroes were supposed to be dedicated to. Mainly, it seemed to be a dedication to sitting around and being bored out of his mind.

  The situation was made all the worse by the fact that Peter had given their TV to some couple who lived in an apartment over an electronics store down on 3rd and Weston. He said that they needed it more than he did, and that one day Wyatt would thank him for it. Wyatt seriously doubted that. He LIKED that TV and now he had nothing to do but sit around and notice how boring this place was.

  He and his brother Peter, or “Continuum” as his parents decided Pete should be called, were forced into this life. Not that Wyatt hated the life of a superhero. It had its advantages, and was occasionally fun. When they were younger, he and Peter had once singlehandedly stopped a plot to blow up the Churchill building. They had saved thousands of people, and they did it on their own.

  Years later, when his parents got themselves lost forever in space– which still sounded stupid, even to him, and he knew that it was a factually accurate statement of what had happened to them– that had left openings on the main Freedom Squad roster. The big leagues. So, along with their friend Kristine AKA “The Vegan,” they were called up from doing their own thing, and they took their place at the table.

  That was almost ten years ago though, and lately Wyatt was starting to feel like it was a different lifetime. Now that they were part of the main team, things were more complicated. They had to listen to other people’s orders, and act when they said to act. Someone else was deciding who the villains were, and Wyatt still wasn’t used to it. The lines were blurring, and Wyatt didn’t like that. Sometimes it felt like being part of a super powered army or political force, rather than a group of people trying to help the world. The Freedom Squad had always controlled his career, but sometimes he could see that they had always been in charge of his life as well. He did not feel comfortable with that realization.

  Plus, it was also… lonely. The rest of the team was seldom around, and when they were, they weren’t really that much fun to hang out with. Most of them were kind of… jerks. Wyatt spent the majority of his time trying to be around them, just so he had something to do, while simultaneously trying to escape them, because he didn’t like them.

  Peter turned the page of his newspaper and smiled. “Oh look, your new little ‘bomber’ friend Harlot made the paper again. Remember her? Gosh, last time we saw her, she was still a gawky teenager. Bet she looks different now.” He took on a thoughtful expression. “Why, I bet she could walk right up to us and we’d probably have no idea it was her. No idea at all.” He turned the page around so that Wyatt could see. “Third time this month she’s made the paper though. Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t read any of the articles, or even looked at the pictures. She’s on a roll. I think she’s really perfecting her skills; it’s a pleasure to watch an artist master her craft.”

  Wyatt leaned forward to g
et a better look at the mug shot of the young dark-haired woman. Then, he winced. Goddammit. He knew that guard looked familiar. Surprisingly, the news that she was evil made him feel depressed, but not altogether surprised. The cute ones were never his fans. He should have known better. She must have been laughing at him the entire time. Oh, she must have thought it was just the funniest thing in the world that he was trying to flirt. He leaned back in his chair, feeling crushed for some reason. Dammit.

  “You could have told me that she was the guard, Pete, and not let me make a complete jackass out of myself. Once again, a warning would have been nice.”

  His brother laughed. “Oh, now where would the fun in that be?”

  Wyatt shook his head at his brother’s characteristic strange sense of humor and pointed at the paper. “Well, what’d the Commodore have her steal this time? Don’t see her out and about that much, especially not the past few years. It must have been either a very special job or an incredibly unimportant one for them to let her do it.”

  Peter looked at the article again. “Says she stole some Incan treasure from a museum in Brooklyn; the Cuzco Capybara. It’s made of gold and gemstones. Pretty.”

  Wyatt scoffed. “I swear to God, that’s all she ever does: steal stuff and free criminals. When all is said and done, that bitch will have freed the devil himself from hell and will have stolen everything but her own gravestone.” He took a sip of his coffee, his depression turning into anger. “SHE’S who we should be locking up, man. One of these days, the Commodore’s going to realize that he should take her off the bench and put her in the game more, and then we’re all in trouble. Next time, she won’t just sneak in here to get that idiot Poacher out, she’ll also cut our throats and steal our wallets while she’s at it. Maybe a bridge or a mountain range too.”

  Peter laughed. “Girl’s got moxie. I like her.”

  Wyatt rolled his eyes. “You just like the way her ass looks in that skintight black leather bodysuit she wears.”

  Peter nodded. “Absolutely. I’m not dead yet, you know. And don’t you even pretend that you haven’t noticed that too. The little minx has got more curves than a county road laid out by a drunken and blind road crew, and you know it. Or was I imagining you having eye sex with her down there in the holding cell?”

  Wyatt laughed at his brother’s idiotic metaphor. “Whatever. Stacked or not, she’s evil.”

  Peter started reading the paper again. “Yeah, she’s totally evil… but hot as hell.” He nodded. “Yep. Guy that lands her is one lucky S.O.B., dude.”

  Wyatt started to flip through the police communication channels in an effort to find something to do. Maybe someone had a report on where Poacher and Harlot might be headed. “’Guy’? Singular? Please. More like ‘hockey team’ or ‘small nation of men.’”

  Peter turned the page. “I don’t know, man. She looks like a nice girl to me.”

  Wyatt scoffed. “Nice? Dude, her name is ‘Harlot’ and she’s a super-villain. In what alternate reality does that classify as ‘nice’?”

  Peter laughed. “Oh, you’d be surprised. Besides, sometimes life forces us to do things that…”

  Wyatt rolled his eyes. “I swear to God, if you’re going to give me one of your talks about morality again, I might throw up. Listen, there are heroes and there are villains, and there’s very little gray area there. She is a villain, ergo, she is villainous. As in: not a nice person. She’s the person who hurts nice people, and she should be arrested and thrown in jail without trial forever. Her name means ‘whore’ for god’s sake, what does that tell you about her?”

  Peter put down his newspaper. “Your code name means ‘liar,’ what does that say about you?”

  Wyatt glared at him. “Yeah, but that’s not the definition of ‘Fabricator’ I was going for, and you know it! It means ‘to construct.’ Besides, it wasn’t even my idea. You can blame Mom for that one.”

  God, he hated that name. Peter was right, it completely sucked. One of these days, he’d have to file a petition with the board of the Freedom Squad to change it. The whole idea of code names was stupid. He wanted to simply go by Wyatt. He didn’t look forward to that hassle though. The Squad loved its mountains of paperwork. The licensing deals alone would take months to sort out. Once they gave you an idiotic code name, you were pretty much stuck with it. The only way around it was to “die” and then come back to life, which allowed you to briefly get a new name and wear a new costume, but even then you had to go back to the original one within a couple of years. You were imprisoned by stupid code names and stupider capes. Not even death could free you from the bureaucracy of this place.

  Peter took his feet off the table. “Listen Wyatt, I’m telling you this for your own good. The people around here… they aren’t that great. And I KNOW you see that too. You’re just trying to ignore it right now, that’s all. The heroes we work with… they aren’t terribly heroic, pal. Not inside. The system is breaking down. Things are changing.”

  Wyatt stood up. He was sick of hearing Peter’s nonsense. The people here weren’t perfect, but who was? The villains? They were villains for a reason: because they were villainous. Besides, he quite literally had nowhere else to go. This was the only home he had ever known, and he didn’t want to toss that aside based solely on his brother’s vague feeling and his own difficulties connecting with the rest of the team.

  “So they aren’t perfect? And? What do you suggest doing, Pete? Huh? Why don’t you look into that crystal ball you call a brain and tell me where all this is heading?”

  Peter sighed. “Oh, I’m afraid this is something you’re going to have to figure out by yourself, Wyatt. I can’t tell you what to do this time. You’re on your own.”

  Wyatt turned to face him in surprise. “On my own? Why?”

  Peter shrugged. “Gotta find your place in the world, Bro. I’ve made my choice. You need to make yours.”

  Wyatt leaned against the back of his chair. “And what choice are we talking here?”

  “The choice where you decide if this is really the life you want, or if this is merely the life that was chosen FOR you.” He carefully folded the newspaper. “I know exactly where I’m going, Wyatt. I’ve known from the second I came into this world. I know what I have to do and why. You need to decide that too, or all of this is for nothing.”

  “All of what is for nothing? Helping people?”

  Peter laughed. “That’s not what we’re doing here and you know it. If you were honest with yourself you would see that.” He pointed towards the dorms. “You think that asshole Captain Dauntless gives a shit about ‘the people’? Hell no. He only cares about the people when they’re out purchasing all the stuff plastered with his image and buying him free drinks. The rest of the time, ‘the people’ are just ants to him; sheep that he can sheer or slaughter as he sees fit.”

  Wyatt walked away from the table towards the command computer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re SUPERHEROES, goddammit! That’s the whole point! We help people!”

  “Do we? Do we really?”

  Wyatt nodded.

  Peter looked skeptical, but was apparently willing to let it drop. “Whatever you say.” He shrugged. “If you want to continue ‘helping people,’ than this is certainly the place to be. Millions of people will receive this special brand of help in the coming years. I, however, have other plans.”

  Wyatt frowned in confusion. “Really? Where are you going? You’re… you’re really leaving?”

  “Me?” Peter laughed. “No. Hell no. I’ll work here until I die. I’m in this for life, Wyatt. You, however, you can do whatever you want to do. You aren’t shackled to this place. Mom and Dad wanted you to work here, but you don’t have to. You’re your own man. You’re better than the rest of the people here, and were made for… memorable things.”

  Wyatt scowled. What a creepy thing to say. His brother was always saying stuff like that though. He just liked the mystery of it all. Hell, he said stuff l
ike that about the movies they’d go to see. Wyatt would ask him if the movie was going to be any good, and Peter would say something cryptic like “Depends on your point of view.” Or “The film will succeed in that which it intends.” Or “That is for YOU to decide, Wyatt.” It was strange. Like trying to get a straight answer from a magic-8 ball on what the weather was going to be like on a particular day. Don’t “Ask again later” me, you asshole! Is it going to rain next Wednesday or not!

  Peter leaned back in his chair. “You ever hear the story of the Tortoise and the Hare, Wyatt?”

  Wyatt stared at him for a beat. Was he serious? The only thing more annoying than his brother’s creepy sounding fortune-telling was the way Pete constantly dropped mangled Aesop’s Fable things into everyday conversation, like they contained the answer to all of life’s mysteries and no further comment on the issue was necessary. He did it CONSTANTLY! Sometimes in the middle of a fight with villains! It was so annoying!

  Wyatt rolled his eyes. “No, man. Don’t know that one… because I’m a complete fucking moron.”

  Peter laughed. “But do you know what it means?”

  “You’re really asking me that? Really?” Peter’s expression didn’t change, so the question apparently wasn’t rhetorical. “Fine. Slow and steady, and all that?”

  Peter shook his head. “To modern audiences that’s the moral, yes,” he held up a finger, “…but to the ancients who wrote it, the moral was something else entirely. To them, the story wasn’t about the success of the tortoise, it was about the failure of the hare.” He paused to let what he apparently thought was an important distinction sink in. “To them, the moral was that the hare was beaten by the lowly tortoise, because it didn’t live up to its full potential. The hare beat the hare, not the tortoise. The tortoise could have been slow and steady forever, could have had the best race of its life, been faster than any tortoise had ever dreamed of being, but the hare would have still crossed the finish line first had it done what it was capable of doing. But the hare wasn’t paying attention to its opponent. It played the tortoise’s game, when it should have made the Tortoise play his. That’s why it lost. So, the moral of the story is that you should run every race full out, and always watch your enemies, or something far slower can leave you in the dust. Because even the seemingly inept can surprise you at times.”