by Ford, Lizzy
Dr. Wellington,
In considering your application, and the recommendations of the Savage family, the Supervillain Council has decided to approve your involvement in the super community of Sand City. With respect to the Superhero Accords of 1945, you are hereby awarded the city and the official superhero name, Doctor. Your duties to the city shall commence immediately.
Sincerely,
The Council
Kimber read it twice before returning to the rose garden. “Hey, Igor,” he called. “Why does a Supervillain Council approve superhero applications?”
Igor looked up, and he began to smile. “Did you get the letter?” he asked.
Kimber handed it to him.
“The superheroes have the Accords and the supervillains have their Council,” Igor explained. “The families of villains tend to stay in the same cities for generation after generation while superheroes are invited into the cities where they’re needed to oppose the unique powers of the ruling supervillain. The supervillains want to ensure their assigned superhero is a worthy opponent, capable of challenging them and will also help increase the city’s tourism revenue.”
“I’ll never believe super people contribute to the local economy,” Kimber said.
“Do you know how much Batman merchandise has been sold over the years?” Igor countered.
“Yeah but Batman isn’t real.”
“Look who thinks he has a clue.”
Kimber started to laugh. Igor was serious. “Wait, you mean, Batman is real?” Kimber asked.
“He was in the forties. Once a superhero or villain dies, the family can sell the merchandising and life story rights. That’s how most villains initially make their money. That and through extensive criminal networks.” Igor fell quiet, reading. When he lowered the letter, he grinned. “When are we returning?”
“I’m not sure I am,” Kimber replied. “I didn’t ask for this. I definitely don’t think I’m meant to fight crime or whatever superheroes do.”
“It’s a calling,” Igor said, repeating Keladry Savage’s parting words.
“It doesn’t mean I have to answer it!”
“That’s true. You have to choose to cross the gray.” Igor tapped Kimber’s father on the shoulder and handed him the letter.
James read the letter and smiled. “Proud of you, son,” he said and removed his headphones. “It’s an honor. Sand City is notorious for turning away applicants.”
Kimber had a much harder time refusing the supposed honor when his father’s face was glowing in a way it rarely did anymore.
“When are you going back?” James asked.
Kimber sighed. “I don’t know anything about being a superhero or fighting crime.”
“But you know how to help people,” Igor countered. “You stood up to Reader and Thunder and even their father. That’s all you have to do.”
“And take out their henchmen,” his father added.
“This is crazy.” Kimber paced. Why was his pulse racing? Why did he almost look forward to returning to Sand City?
Was it because of Keladry? Or because Sand City was the last place where he felt like he could make a difference?
Was this line of work the kind of difference he wanted to make?
He was about to decline again, as politely as possible out of respect for his father, when James motioned to Igor, who bent over to retrieve a shoebox from under his seat.
“I’ve saved this, just in case you ever did go down this path in life.” James held out the box with shaking arms.
Kimber reached forward quickly, not wanting to strain his father. He set aside the envelope the letters had come in and opened the box. The satiny material in the interior was dark purple, and he lifted the item of clothing out of the box.
It was a cape, light, airy and lined with chocolate hued micro-suede. Beneath it was a brilliant yellow, spandex uniform.
“I wore that for twenty years,” James said proudly. “I want you to have it.”
Kimber’s resistance softened at the gleaming tears in his father’s eyes. His father hadn’t even looked this proud when he graduated medical school. “Thanks, Dad,” he said and leaned forward to hug his father.
“I’ll iron your clothes and pack them,” Igor said and lurched to his feet. He hurried into the house, excitement on his features.
Kimber released his father and sat down in Igor’s seat. “I’m honored,” he said, touched by his father’s expression. “I feel like I should stay with you for now, though.”
“Nonsense. I will have more peace knowing you’ve found your destiny and place in this world, even if you’re fifteen hundred miles away.”
Kimber wasn’t feeling especially excited about the prospect of leaving – or being forced to publically wear spandex and a cape because an entire city thought he was some kind of superhero. “I’m not sure this is my destiny and place,” he hedged, not wanting to upset his frail father.
“What have you got to lose?” James countered.
Kimber’s cheeks felt warm. “Absolutely nothing,” he replied. No job, no money, no car, no home. He could go on for days about what he’d lost the past few years. The thought of where he’d landed – because of his poor choices – threatened to send him back into a depression again.
“I know it’s a difficult path but I believe you’ll find it rewarding in a way being a physician wasn’t,” James said. “You have a good heart, Kimmie. You can make more of a difference as the Doctor. Just don’t let the evils of this world blind you.”
“I know a lot about that already, Dad,” Kimber reminded him. “I’m not convinced there’s much good left in the world.”
“Then become what’s missing and spread it everywhere you go.”
“Is it that easy?” Kimber asked. “I’ve made unforgiveable mistakes.”
James smiled warmly. “When you overdosed, I thought I would lose you forever, son. That week when we didn’t know if they could save you … it was the worst of my life. Worse than my accident and anything they did to me after. I want you to know your purpose and find happiness in life. This,” he tapped the cape, “is how I found both of those things. Trust yourself and follow your heart.”
Kimber was quiet, not wanting to recall the pain he’d put his family and friends through when his addiction nearly culminated in his death. Wrestling with himself, with his decision and the primal beckoning of fate that made him grip the cape firmly, he sought the words to express his torn feelings.
“Dad, how can someone who did what I did become a superhero?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“Well, son, that’s a good question. Why do you help others at all?”
“So they don’t end up like me. Broken and regretful. In pain.”
“Then there’s your motivation. It’s just on a much grander scale, with an opponent that’s not strictly limited to your mind this time,” his father answered. “You can save others from a different kind of pain. You might even prevent others from falling into the trap you did.”
“What if someone finds out? They won’t want me as a superhero.”
“Superheroes are as flawed as the next guy. We just do our best to make the world a better place.” James’ thin voice carried the kind of confidence Kimber hadn’t heard from him since before the accident.
“You really think I can do this?” Kimber asked.
“I know you can. There are certain times in our lives when we feel pulled towards something we can’t explain. I felt it when I was led to Chicago to become its superhero. I’m certain you experienced the same in Sand City. Trust this sense of destiny. It will never steer you the wrong way.”
Kimber studied his father. He wanted to admit the truth, that he’d felt pulled towards Keladry, not necessarily the city. But maybe, there was little difference. She was a part of Sand City, as much as the hospital where he had worked and the Snake River winding through the city. Perhaps Keladry was simply the face of the city, and he was drawn to both.
> “Okay,” he said softly, not at all convinced this was the right choice. But returning would make his father happy. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’ll go back.”
“Let’s work on your backstory.”
Kimber raised an eyebrow.
“Every hero has a job and a perfectly human façade,” his father explained.
“If the villains know I’m there, and the super community is out in the open, is that necessary?”
“You never know.” By the happy look on his father’s face, James was reliving his past. “When I first started out …”
Kimber listened as James imparted his story, resolved to at least pretend to play along for his father’s sake. After all, how different could it be from wearing a costume and working at Disney Land? He just had to wear spandex and smile for the cameras and let his father know he was following in the family footsteps. It wasn’t like he could actually stop criminals or villains. His background was literally in saving lives, not fighting crime.
Dad doesn’t have long, Kimber reminded himself when he started to register how crazy this sounded. Maybe, just maybe, he could help his father find some peace before the cancer took him. What Kimber did after wouldn’t matter – he’d never have this opportunity again to share something this important with his father.
Three: Superheroes wear capes
One week later, Kimber raced through the alleys and backstreets of Sand City, hampered by his cape and half blind in his ill-fitting mask. He tripped over something in his path, staggered and grabbed the dumpster near him to steady his balance. The metal twisted and warped with a high-pitched screech beneath his grip, and he released it, cursing under his breath.
Adjusting the mask, he forced himself to continue, even though he could no longer see the mugger he was chasing. He emerged from the alley into a rundown neighborhood lit by streetlights and went still, training his senses on the world around him.
A sound came from his right, and he darted in that direction, following a dark form fleeing on foot down the sidewalk. The sudden change of direction caused the cape to tangle between his legs, and he fell hard onto the sidewalk.
“Fuck!” Kimber shouted, frustrated. He didn’t get up but rolled onto his back, unable to see through one eye because of the shifted mask.
“Okay, stop,” Igor’s voice came through the earpiece he wore.
Kimber climbed to his feet, breathing hard, and waited for the nanny and pretend mugger to return. The friend of Igor’s posing as a thief pushed his hood back, while Igor looked down at his notes.
“That time was slower than your last four tries,” he observed. “And you didn’t get nearly as far.”
“I can’t see in this damn thing!” Kimber exclaimed and tore off the mask. “And this cape … it gets tangled in my legs!”
Igor lowered his clipboard and approached. He circled Kimber, critically evaluating the uniform he wore. “Your father’s old uniform doesn’t fit you well. The cape needs to be shorter.”
“Or retired permanently,” Kimber replied and unbuttoned it from his neck. He flung it over one arm. “I get it. Superheroes wear capes. But I can’t function in this horrible outfit let alone rescue someone. This just isn’t going to work.”
“You’re not playing to your strengths. You don’t need to run at all. Just pick up a car and throw it at him,” Igor pointed out.
“I’m not killing anyone. I’m sticking to my Hippocratic oath not to cause harm, as much as possible,” Kimber replied, calming. He motioned to the spandex leotard he wore. “This is the brightest yellow ever. People can see me coming a mile away, and it makes me sweat. There’s no air circulation.”
“This is a good color,” the mugger said and motioned to the cape. “You’d blend well with the night but not cross the line into wearing black.”
“Hmm.” Igor lifted the cape from Kimber’s arm. “I have an idea. Do I have your permission to modify your uniform?”
“Go for it,” Kimber said, irritated. He drew a deep breath and looked around. As rough as his return was going, he was unexpectedly pleased to be back in Sand City.
“You need a refresher on the streets in this district,” the mugger, Tanner, said. “You could’ve cut me off a block ago.”
“And to become more aware of your surroundings. There could’ve been half a dozen ninjas hiding along your route,” Igor said.
“I’ll work on it,” Kimber said and rubbed his face.
“I personally appreciate not having a car thrown at me,” Tanner added.
“He wouldn’t hit you. He’d just throw it near you for practice,” Igor replied.
“Right. Because I can aim a car,” Kimber said. “We’ve tried that move. It doesn’t end well for the car or the target.”
“Junkyard cars are less aerodynamic. Once the frame –”
“I know,” Kimber cut off Igor, exhausted from his day. “I’m beginning to think it was a horrible idea coming back. I haven’t helped anyone.”
“The Savages destroyed an entire neighborhood on the east side,” Tanner said quietly. “The city won’t survive without a hero.”
But am I the right person for this? Kimber was quiet, disturbed by the headlines and news reports he’d seen since returning. Keladry and her father had declared war on one another, and the entire city had become their battlefield. He wanted to think she wouldn’t massacre a neighborhood while its residents slept, but he wouldn’t bet money on it.
Whether or not he was the right person for the job, he was currently the only superhero in town. During quiet moments, when he was alone with his thoughts, he started to think this was all a dream. But those around him – and an entire city – believed it to be their reality, and he struggled to accept how different that reality was from what he used to know.
“Let’s go again,” he said and bent to retrieve his mask from the ground. “Without the cape.”
“New route,” Igor said. He pulled up a map on his iPad. Kimber and Tanner moved closer to see.
Someone nearby cleared his voice, and all three jerked in response. Kimber turned to see a police officer standing near a car, hands on his hips.
“Your mask!” Igor snatched the purple mask and dragged it over Kimber’s head, blinding him.
“Igor!” Kimber grabbed the flimsy material and tugged at it.
Igor yanked it farther down, and Kimber pulled free, shifting it up where he could see through the eyeholes.
The police officer chuckled. “I’ve been watching you for an hour. Kinda defeats the purpose of wearing a mask.”
Igor scowled fiercely, and Kimber pulled the mask off.
“You remember me, do-gooder?” the officer asked.
Kimber studied the lawman, whose low growl was familiar. “Actually, yeah. You were guarding Keladry Savage’s body in the alley the night I rescued her.”
“Yeah. Seems you didn’t end up dead after all. I fucking lost a bet over that,” the lawman said.
“He’s not dead yet,” Tanner clarified. “He hasn’t faced the Savages since returning.”
“Thanks for pointing that out, Tanner,” Kimber replied. “How can we help you, officer?”
The lawman appeared to be trying not to smile. “This is your operation?”
Kimber glanced at Tanner and Igor then down at the ill-fitting spandex suit he’d hated the moment he saw it. A little self-consciously, he crossed his arms. “This is it. Your friendly neighborhood Sand City superhero. And friends.”
“I almost don’t want to tell you this.”
Kimber read the man’s nametag. “Go ahead, Officer Ford.”
“We have a sighting of Reader’s henchmen in town. Looks like they’re getting ready to break into a bank. If you’re …” the lawman paused, as if searching for the right word, “… ready.”
“Of course,” Kimber said, interest peaked by the idea of trying his hand at being a superhero instead of tripping over his cape in an exercise.
Igor and Tanner e
xchanged a look, though neither spoke.
“So where am I going?” Kimber asked.
“The corner of Fifth and Gold Nugget.”
“Which is where?”
Officer Ford cleared his throat. “I’ll drop you off. Wait here. My car is down the block.”
Kimber nodded.
When the lawman was out of earshot, Igor faced him. “Kimber, you aren’t ready for this.”
“I have to agree,” Tanner seconded.
“I’ve gotta get started for real at some point,” Kimber replied. “And this sounds small and contained. I won’t be facing Reader or General Savage.”
“True,” Igor allowed. “But you haven’t yet mastered running in a mask.”
“Then I’ll take it off.”
“But –”
“Look, I need to get my feet wet. I didn’t come to Sand City to wait around until the time was right to help someone. I feel ready. I’m doing this,” Kimber said firmly. “You can come or not.” He started walking towards the approaching police car.
Igor and Tanner trailed him. Kimber got into the passenger’s seat, while the other two men climbed in back.
“You sure about this?” Officer Ford asked.
“Yep. Let’s go,” Kimber replied.
Ten minutes later, they arrived near the bank. Officer Ford parked half a block away, close enough to evaluate the bank without drawing unwanted attention. The streets ahead of them appeared quiet and calm and the bank’s windows were dark – until Kimber spotted the beams of flashlights emanating from inside the bank. His heart pounding, he felt a familiar adrenaline spike, similar to what he experienced when a new patient would come into the ER.
He got out of the car and assessed the bank’s façade. “So … do I need a key?” he asked his companions.
“I can call the bank owner and let him know you’d like one made this week, or you can rip the doors off,” Officer Ford said, completely deadpan.
“Point taken.” Kimber drew a breath and blew it out.
“I’d recommend breaking down the front door and knocking anyone inside over the head.”
