Boots To Fill
The following is taken from my short story collection The Extraordinaries.
Jonah stared at the casket; polished wood beneath a mountain of blue roses, specially ordered from the Megatropolis Horticultural Labs. On the side facing the mourners was a large golden A. The city had paid for it all; just a small way to say thanks. Jonah felt it was a little over the top.
The pews filled one after the other, people fighting for the closest seat. The two outside aisles had been roped off, and behind the rope stood a mass of cameramen and news reporters, jostling for the best angle. Next to Jonah sat the mayor, and on the other side of him, sat a long line of young heroes looking for their chance to be the city’s new protector.
Jonah felt a tap on his shoulder and looked over to see a head and right hand stretched forward from six rows back. It was his dad’s friend and colleague, the Rubberband.
“Great turnout, Jonah. Lots of people coming to pay your dad their final respects. He was a good man. Everybody loved him.”
“Thanks, Mr. Johnson. That means a lot.”
The right hand then extended even further, plucking a program from the stand in the front of the church, before retracting to its owner.
Above the crowd, there was a loud flutter of wings as the Golden Eagle settled in the rafters. Several minutes passed by, as the rest of the crowd found their seats, and soon, the organ started to play in the back of the church. Father Reynolds walked to the side of the casket and cleared his throat.
“What is it that makes a hero? Is it something that we are born with or is it something we find for ourselves? The book of Romans tells us, ‘We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up.’
“This is the reason we are here today. We are here to honor a man who was blessed with an amazing gift, a modern day Samson. And this man used his gift to defend his neighbor, to stand with those who are weak, and to make a difference during his time in this world. He was an angel among us, and now he has gone home to be with the Father. However, that doesn’t mean that he has left us completely. His legacy lives on in all our hearts. He reminded us what it means to be a hero. He inspired a new generation of young men and women to don the uniform and answer the call, to bear with the failings of the weak. And for that, we are eternally grateful.”
Father Reynolds’s words echoed throughout the church, mingling with the clicks, shutters, and flashes of the news cameras. Next up was the Mayor. He rose from his seat, buttoned his coat, and meticulously used two fingers to address any stray hairs on his forehead.
He stepped up to the podium and braced himself against it with his fingers turning white from the vice-like grip. He looked left and right, surveying the crowd, and finally rested his eyes on the vultures filling the outer aisles. He smiled to the cameras then began his rehearsed speech.
“Captain Amazing was indeed a hero, but he was also something more. He was a friend, both to me and to the city. He was the shoulder on which we could always depend and the lighthouse that always kept us safe and guided us home.” The mayor stared out over the crowd as if looking for the lighthouse on a far off shore.
Jonah was impressed with the man’s performance, although not altogether surprised. After all, the mayor was up for re-election and gaining the endorsement of a dead hero would make his campaign foolproof.
The mayor went on, applying the proper crescendos and caesurae, but after a while, Jonah tuned him out. He couldn’t stand to hear the man lie. Jonah remembered nights when his father ranted about the mayor; how the man expected so much of him but refused to raise a single finger to help the city help itself.
Behind the mayor was an enormous stained-glass window depicting the Ascension of Christ. The sun poured through the purples and whites of Christ’s robes, bathing the casket in royal colors. What sacrilege.
A loud bang echoed in the back of the church, causing the mayor to flinch in the middle of his faux-tears. Jonah looked back and saw men in black suits barring a brightly clad young man from entering into the service. Jonah couldn’t make out who it was, but he noticed a mass of styled hair and the occasional declaration of “That’s my dad. Do you know who I am?”
The suits pushed against the young man, finally forcing him from the church.
The next few speakers barely registered with Jonah who wanted nothing more than for the funeral to end. One by one, the heroes spoke; the Blur, the Termite, the Rubberband, Mister Might, the Caped Wonder, and Steel Falcon. It was all the same thing.
“Finally, we’ll be hearing from Captain Amazing’s son.”
Jonah crashed back into the moment, starting from his seat and shuffling toward the casket. He looked out over all the mourners dressed in blues, oranges, reds, greens, and golds. What ever happened to basic black? It looked more like a circus and less like a church.
Maybe that’s all this was; a circus, full of laughter and jokes and above all, showmanship.
The pews filled one after the other, people fighting for the closest seat. The two outside aisles had been roped off, and behind the rope stood a mass of cameramen and news reporters, jostling for the best angle. Next to Jonah sat the mayor, and on the other side of him, sat a long line of young heroes looking for their chance to be the city’s new protector.
Jonah felt a tap on his shoulder and looked over to see a head and right hand stretched forward from six rows back. It was his dad’s friend and colleague, the Rubberband.
“Great turnout, Jonah. Lots of people coming to pay your dad their final respects. He was a good man. Everybody loved him.”
“Thanks, Mr. Johnson. That means a lot.”
The right hand then extended even further, plucking a program from the stand in the front of the church, before retracting to its owner.
Above the crowd, there was a loud flutter of wings as the Golden Eagle settled in the rafters. Several minutes passed by, as the rest of the crowd found their seats, and soon, the organ started to play in the back of the church. Father Reynolds walked to the side of the casket and cleared his throat.
“What is it that makes a hero? Is it something that we are born with or is it something we find for ourselves? The book of Romans tells us, ‘We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up.’
“This is the reason we are here today. We are here to honor a man who was blessed with an amazing gift, a modern day Samson. And this man used his gift to defend his neighbor, to stand with those who are weak, and to make a difference during his time in this world. He was an angel among us, and now he has gone home to be with the Father. However, that doesn’t mean that he has left us completely. His legacy lives on in all our hearts. He reminded us what it means to be a hero. He inspired a new generation of young men and women to don the uniform and answer the call, to bear with the failings of the weak. And for that, we are eternally grateful.”
Father Reynolds’s words echoed throughout the church, mingling with the clicks, shutters, and flashes of the news cameras. Next up was the Mayor. He rose from his seat, buttoned his coat, and meticulously used two fingers to address any stray hairs on his forehead.
He stepped up to the podium and braced himself against it with his fingers turning white from the vice-like grip. He looked left and right, surveying the crowd, and finally rested his eyes on the vultures filling the outer aisles. He smiled to the cameras then began his rehearsed speech.
“Captain Amazing was indeed a hero, but he was also something more. He was a friend, both to me and to the city. He was the shoulder on which we could always depend and the lighthouse that always kept us safe and guided us home.” The mayor stared out over the crowd as if looking for the lighthouse on a far off shore.
Jonah was impressed with the man’s performance, although not altogether surprised. After all, the mayor was up for re-election and gaining the endorsement of a dead hero would make his campaign foolproof.
The mayor went on, applying the proper crescendos and caesurae, but after a while, Jonah tuned him out. He couldn’t stand to hear the man lie. Jonah remembered nights when his father ranted about the mayor; how the man expected so much of him but refused to raise a single finger to help the city help itself.
Behind the mayor was an enormous stained-glass window depicting the Ascension of Christ. The sun poured through the purples and whites of Christ’s robes, bathing the casket in royal colors. What sacrilege.
A loud bang echoed in the back of the church, causing the mayor to flinch in the middle of his faux-tears. Jonah looked back and saw men in black suits barring a brightly clad young man from entering into the service. Jonah couldn’t make out who it was, but he noticed a mass of styled hair and the occasional declaration of “That’s my dad. Do you know who I am?”
The suits pushed against the young man, finally forcing him from the church.
The next few speakers barely registered with Jonah who wanted nothing more than for the funeral to end. One by one, the heroes spoke; the Blur, the Termite, the Rubberband, Mister Might, the Caped Wonder, and Steel Falcon. It was all the same thing.
“Finally, we’ll be hearing from Captain Amazing’s son.”
Jonah crashed back into the moment, starting from his seat and shuffling toward the casket. He looked out over all the mourners dressed in blues, oranges, reds, greens, and golds. What ever happened to basic black? It looked more like a circus and less like a church.
Maybe that’s all this was; a circus, full of laughter and jokes and above all, showmanship.
The long line of cars made their way from the church to the cemetery and were now following one another to the reception at the Megatropolis Convention Center for what the mayor had said would be an intimate gathering.
As Jonah’s rented limousine pulled up to the curb, he could see a line of people stretching down the block, some invited and some not. There were co-workers, family friends, mourners, onlookers, paparazzi, and a handful of little kids wearing masks and make-shift capes. Jonah had expected as much since he first heard the news.
He stepped out onto the sidewalk and was immediately greeted by the mayor and an array of camera flashes that struck like lightning against his eyes. He wanted to climb back into the car and have the driver take him far away, but the mayor held him firmly by the shoulders, posing for the photographers and the gathering crowd.
The whole scene made Jonah sick, all the pomp and circumstance for Megatropolis’s favorite superhero, Jonah’s father, a man he barely knew.
The mayor ushered Jonah inside and the two men took their place at the front of the reception line, shaking hands with celebrated officials and an endless stream of grateful citizens.
“Your father was a great man, Mr. Mandell. He once pulled me out of the river when my car had swerved off the bridge.”
“Your old man once held up an entire building all by himself after that earthquake a few years back. He’s going to be sorely missed.”
“That’s nothing. I once saw Captain Amazing take a whole clip of .45s to the chest, and they didn’t even leave a scratch.”
“Your dad had a great sense of humor, young man. He always had some quip at-the- ready for just the right moment. I bet he was a hoot and a half to have around the house growing up.”
Jonah smiled politely through one story and the next although he had heard them all before in one form or another. Most of them he had read about in the papers. The words “CAPTAIN AMAZING SAVES THE DAY” written in thick black letters across the thin yellowing pages. He couldn’t take much more. His head swam, and he excused himself to get fresh air.
He burst from the convention center through a side entrance. His eyes scanned one direction then the other, making sure there wasn’t a camera in sight.
Jonah walked over to a bench at the edge of the sidewalk. He lowered himself down, legs spread far apart. He leaned forward, resting his head between his knees, eyes clenched shut, breathing heavily.
Everyone inside the center, everyone in Megatropolis, maybe everyone in the whole world knew Jonah’s father. To them, he was a savior, a guardian, even a friend at times. All those young kids idolized Captain Amazing with their action figures and mismatched costumes. They all wanted to be him. Jonah knew the feeling. He had felt the same way when he was a kid, before he knew the family secret.
He remembered his mother sitting him down one day in the living room. She said there was something important that she and his father had to tell him. “He should be home any minute.” Three hours passed, and the wait became too much.
Jonah’s mother told him the truth then and there. “You can never repeat what I’m about to tell you. It is a matter of life and death. No matter what happens you have to keep this secret. Promise me that, Jonah.”
He did.
“Your father is Captain Amazing.”
Jonah laughed. His mother didn’t.
She then went on to explain how he had gotten his powers, how he became a hero, how he became a husband and a father.
“There are so many people that want to know who he really is, and if they found out, they would hurt him, or me, or you. That’s why we couldn’t tell you until we knew you were ready.” Jonah was fourteen years old. They had kept this from him all his life.
Excitement was the first thing Jonah felt. What kid wouldn’t be excited to find out that your childhood hero and your own father were one and the same? The more he thought it over. The more sense it started to make. All the missed birthdays and baseball games, all the late nights at work and missed vacations; it was all for a reason. Jonah’s father had a higher calling. The people of the city needed him, but Jonah started to realize that he did too.
A child wants a superhero, but he needs a father.
Jonah heard the door open and close behind him. He had been discovered. Turning to look, Jonah saw Lance Gilder, or as the city knew him, Kid Awesome, Captain Amazing’s ward and partner in justice. Jonah had only met him once, when his mom passed away the year before. It was shortly after Jonah left for college and shortly prior to his father going public with his secret identity.
“Do you have a light?”
“Sorry. Can’t help you,” Jonah remained seated.
“Jonah, I didn’t recognize you. What are you doing out here?” Lance took the seat at Jonah’s side, juggling the cigarette between his fingers.
“I just needed some fresh air.”
“Trust me, I know the feeling.” A young girl passed by that had the light Lance needed.
He took a deep breath from the cigarette and exhaled the smoke in a long, thin stream. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the funeral. I showed up a little late, and these black-suited apes had the nerve to keep me out. Thought I was just some fanboy.”
“That’s alright,” Jonah said. “You didn’t miss much.”
Lance took another drag from his cigarette, holding it in his lungs as long as he could. “I can’t believe he’s really gone. It seems like yesterday we were dodging bullets and leaping over rooftops.”
Jonah had no response. He hadn’t even seen his dad the past few months.
The two of them sat in silence watching birds and cars pass them by.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I first met your dad? There I was, twelve years old, and already lifting stolen goods and hotwiring cars. My brother taught me everything I knew. He’s in prison now.
“Anyway, one night, I hear this deep voice behind me. ‘You don’t have to do that, kid.’ I turned around and was face-to-chest with Captain Amazing. I tried running, but he caught up after a block or two. I have to admit though; I gave him a good chase. He must have thought so too.
“After a few more run-ins with one another, the sidekick idea was finally suggested. At first, it was the furthest thing from my mind, but I eventually warmed up to the idea. No one had ever given me a chance like that before.”
Jonah took a long look at Lance. He was a few years older than him, but still seemed like such a kid. His hair was styled in random directions, and his face was clean-shaven and blemish free. His tie was pulled loose, and his pleated pants crumpled against his hi-tops.
“He was the closest thing to a father I have ever known. My real dad skipped out on my mom before I was even born. Seriously, what kind of sick bastard does that; leaves a kid all alone to grow up without a dad?”
Jonah shuffled his feet and stared down at the cracking pavement. Seriously, what kind of sick bastard does that?
“I remember one time, on my fifteenth birthday, we had just stopped Dr. Tornado from taking out half of Midtown. It was such a great day. I didn’t think it could get any better. Then, your old man pulls out a baseball and two gloves.”
In the afternoon light, Jonah saw glistening lines flow from Lance’s eyes.
“We played catch for like four hours. It was the greatest night of my life. He really was the father I never had. I guess that makes us brothers.”
Lance let out a short laugh. Jonah nodded but stared straight ahead.
“Listen, man. It’s been great catching up and all, but I’d better head back inside,” said Jonah. “They’re all probably wondering where I am.”
Lance shook his head. “I’m just going to finish this up, and I’ll probably see you inside.”
“No rush.” Jonah went back into the convention center and found his way to the bar.
As Jonah’s rented limousine pulled up to the curb, he could see a line of people stretching down the block, some invited and some not. There were co-workers, family friends, mourners, onlookers, paparazzi, and a handful of little kids wearing masks and make-shift capes. Jonah had expected as much since he first heard the news.
He stepped out onto the sidewalk and was immediately greeted by the mayor and an array of camera flashes that struck like lightning against his eyes. He wanted to climb back into the car and have the driver take him far away, but the mayor held him firmly by the shoulders, posing for the photographers and the gathering crowd.
The whole scene made Jonah sick, all the pomp and circumstance for Megatropolis’s favorite superhero, Jonah’s father, a man he barely knew.
The mayor ushered Jonah inside and the two men took their place at the front of the reception line, shaking hands with celebrated officials and an endless stream of grateful citizens.
“Your father was a great man, Mr. Mandell. He once pulled me out of the river when my car had swerved off the bridge.”
“Your old man once held up an entire building all by himself after that earthquake a few years back. He’s going to be sorely missed.”
“That’s nothing. I once saw Captain Amazing take a whole clip of .45s to the chest, and they didn’t even leave a scratch.”
“Your dad had a great sense of humor, young man. He always had some quip at-the- ready for just the right moment. I bet he was a hoot and a half to have around the house growing up.”
Jonah smiled politely through one story and the next although he had heard them all before in one form or another. Most of them he had read about in the papers. The words “CAPTAIN AMAZING SAVES THE DAY” written in thick black letters across the thin yellowing pages. He couldn’t take much more. His head swam, and he excused himself to get fresh air.
He burst from the convention center through a side entrance. His eyes scanned one direction then the other, making sure there wasn’t a camera in sight.
Jonah walked over to a bench at the edge of the sidewalk. He lowered himself down, legs spread far apart. He leaned forward, resting his head between his knees, eyes clenched shut, breathing heavily.
Everyone inside the center, everyone in Megatropolis, maybe everyone in the whole world knew Jonah’s father. To them, he was a savior, a guardian, even a friend at times. All those young kids idolized Captain Amazing with their action figures and mismatched costumes. They all wanted to be him. Jonah knew the feeling. He had felt the same way when he was a kid, before he knew the family secret.
He remembered his mother sitting him down one day in the living room. She said there was something important that she and his father had to tell him. “He should be home any minute.” Three hours passed, and the wait became too much.
Jonah’s mother told him the truth then and there. “You can never repeat what I’m about to tell you. It is a matter of life and death. No matter what happens you have to keep this secret. Promise me that, Jonah.”
He did.
“Your father is Captain Amazing.”
Jonah laughed. His mother didn’t.
She then went on to explain how he had gotten his powers, how he became a hero, how he became a husband and a father.
“There are so many people that want to know who he really is, and if they found out, they would hurt him, or me, or you. That’s why we couldn’t tell you until we knew you were ready.” Jonah was fourteen years old. They had kept this from him all his life.
Excitement was the first thing Jonah felt. What kid wouldn’t be excited to find out that your childhood hero and your own father were one and the same? The more he thought it over. The more sense it started to make. All the missed birthdays and baseball games, all the late nights at work and missed vacations; it was all for a reason. Jonah’s father had a higher calling. The people of the city needed him, but Jonah started to realize that he did too.
A child wants a superhero, but he needs a father.
Jonah heard the door open and close behind him. He had been discovered. Turning to look, Jonah saw Lance Gilder, or as the city knew him, Kid Awesome, Captain Amazing’s ward and partner in justice. Jonah had only met him once, when his mom passed away the year before. It was shortly after Jonah left for college and shortly prior to his father going public with his secret identity.
“Do you have a light?”
“Sorry. Can’t help you,” Jonah remained seated.
“Jonah, I didn’t recognize you. What are you doing out here?” Lance took the seat at Jonah’s side, juggling the cigarette between his fingers.
“I just needed some fresh air.”
“Trust me, I know the feeling.” A young girl passed by that had the light Lance needed.
He took a deep breath from the cigarette and exhaled the smoke in a long, thin stream. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the funeral. I showed up a little late, and these black-suited apes had the nerve to keep me out. Thought I was just some fanboy.”
“That’s alright,” Jonah said. “You didn’t miss much.”
Lance took another drag from his cigarette, holding it in his lungs as long as he could. “I can’t believe he’s really gone. It seems like yesterday we were dodging bullets and leaping over rooftops.”
Jonah had no response. He hadn’t even seen his dad the past few months.
The two of them sat in silence watching birds and cars pass them by.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I first met your dad? There I was, twelve years old, and already lifting stolen goods and hotwiring cars. My brother taught me everything I knew. He’s in prison now.
“Anyway, one night, I hear this deep voice behind me. ‘You don’t have to do that, kid.’ I turned around and was face-to-chest with Captain Amazing. I tried running, but he caught up after a block or two. I have to admit though; I gave him a good chase. He must have thought so too.
“After a few more run-ins with one another, the sidekick idea was finally suggested. At first, it was the furthest thing from my mind, but I eventually warmed up to the idea. No one had ever given me a chance like that before.”
Jonah took a long look at Lance. He was a few years older than him, but still seemed like such a kid. His hair was styled in random directions, and his face was clean-shaven and blemish free. His tie was pulled loose, and his pleated pants crumpled against his hi-tops.
“He was the closest thing to a father I have ever known. My real dad skipped out on my mom before I was even born. Seriously, what kind of sick bastard does that; leaves a kid all alone to grow up without a dad?”
Jonah shuffled his feet and stared down at the cracking pavement. Seriously, what kind of sick bastard does that?
“I remember one time, on my fifteenth birthday, we had just stopped Dr. Tornado from taking out half of Midtown. It was such a great day. I didn’t think it could get any better. Then, your old man pulls out a baseball and two gloves.”
In the afternoon light, Jonah saw glistening lines flow from Lance’s eyes.
“We played catch for like four hours. It was the greatest night of my life. He really was the father I never had. I guess that makes us brothers.”
Lance let out a short laugh. Jonah nodded but stared straight ahead.
“Listen, man. It’s been great catching up and all, but I’d better head back inside,” said Jonah. “They’re all probably wondering where I am.”
Lance shook his head. “I’m just going to finish this up, and I’ll probably see you inside.”
“No rush.” Jonah went back into the convention center and found his way to the bar.
It was Jonah’s seventh birthday, and the guests started arriving around two o’clock, each bearing a brightly colored present for Jonah. The parents parked their cars along the street, walked with their children across the neatly cropped lawn, and rang the doorbell once or twice. As the door opened, the first thing to catch their eyes was the yellow banner stretched across the entryway, reading “Happy Birthday, Jonah!”
The gifts were deposited in the living room, the kids ran to the backyard, and the parents mingled in the kitchen.
Jonah’s mom was covered in flour but all smiles. In fact, he can’t think of a time when she wasn’t smiling. He remembers her not always being happy, but she’d never let you know it.
Jonah ran into the kitchen, weaving between the legs of parents. He found his mom icing cupcakes and tugged on her apron.
“Mom, can I show everyone the football dad got me?”
She coughed twice. “Jonah, you remember the Hendersons. Aren’t you going to say hello?”
Jonah took Mrs. and Mr. Henderson’s hands in turn, nodding politely.
“That’s quite the grip you got, young man. Just like his father. Speaking of which, where is your husband this afternoon?”
“Walt got called into work. You know how it is. He should be back before cake.”
Jonah dashed to his room to get the football his dad had given him that morning. It was signed by Leroy Harington, the Megatropolis Knights’ star quarterback. Jonah’s friends oohed and awed, as well as several of the fathers.
The afternoon grew later and later, but there was no sign of Jonah’s dad.
“Time for cake,” his mom called.
Candles were lit, and everyone gathered around the kitchen table, but suddenly, one of the parents called out from the other room.
“Everyone, come quick. Captain Amazing’s on the news.”
The children were the first to go, pushing and shoving to get the closest spot in front of the television. The parents came in next, pulling their kids away from the screen so that everyone could see.
Sure enough, Captain Amazing blazed in front of the camera. Headlines scrolled across the base reading, “Lieutenant Blitzkrieg Attacks Midtown.”
The cameraman zoomed in and out trying to find the money shot of the two titans. Finally, he found it. It was a little blurry, but everyone could definitely make out the bright blue costume with the golden A on the chest throwing punch after punch.
Blitzkrieg’s face ran with blood, but his swastika tattoo was clearly defined.
The fight didn’t last long.
Captain Amazing wrapped a nearby stop sign around Blitzkrieg, restraining him for the cops. The MPD had been trained in everything from crisis intervention to crowd control, but nothing at the academy could have prepared them for a ‘roided up Nazi refusing to acknowledge that the war had ended decades before.
The news reporters flooded around the Captain, questions flying through the air like killer bees swarming their target.
“Captain, what do you have to say to the people of Megatroplis?”
“What are you going to do to prevent Blitzkrieg’s escape from jail? This is the fifth time he’s gotten out this year alone.”
“Boxers or briefs?”
“Captain, do you have any special someone in your life?”
One by one, Captain Amazing answered every question. There’s no need to worry. I’m always here. We’re currently working on a new cell at Steelsmith Penitentiary. Briefs. No.
Years later, Jonah would find out that his father answered that last question the way he did in order to spare his family, but he knew it hurt his mom every time she had to hear it.
The families watched as the police escorted Lieutenant Blitzkrieg into a specially designed transport. Then, the Captain received a call on his League of Extraordinaries communicator. Something about unidentified ships entering Earth’s atmosphere somewhere in South Africa. He politely declined further questions and leapt into the air.
The kids all complained that the show was over, and their parents guided them back to the kitchen for the interrupted cake ceremony. Jonah looked at his mom across the room. She ran her floured fingers through her hair and bit her lower lip until it turned white. Then, she caught Jonah’s eyes and gave him the smile he was so used to seeing.
Everyone gathered around the cake and once more sang “Happy Birthday” in loud cacophonous unison. The birthday candles had burned to nubs in the time that everyone had been in the living room. Wax pooled on the cake’s icing.
An hour or so later, the guests departed with handshakes and hugs. Jonah went to his room to play with all his new toys. His mom finished cleaning downstairs then waited for her husband in the living room, bathed in the television’s blue light. Eventually, she gave up and went to bed, but Jonah stayed up. He wanted to show his dad everything he’d gotten that day.
Finally, sometime after midnight, the front door opened and in stepped Walter Mandell. Jonah stood at the top of the stairs and looked down on his father. His right eye looked swollen and blue, and his lower lip was split.
“Are you O.K., dad?”
He smiled, causing his lower lip to bleed. “Rough day at work, son. It’s nothing. I’m sorry I missed your party. How’d it go?”
“Good.”
“That’s good.” He nodded to himself. “Your mom in bed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you should be too. Come on, Champ.”
Jonah’s dad mounted the stairs and walked Jonah to his bedroom at the end of the hall.
With his mighty arms, he lifted his son into the air and laid him gently on the bed. Then, he laid down beside him.
Before long, Jonah’s dad started to snore, exhausted from his day. Jonah watched his father’s chest rise and fall and soon fell asleep himself.
The next morning, his father was gone. He was called into work early.
The gifts were deposited in the living room, the kids ran to the backyard, and the parents mingled in the kitchen.
Jonah’s mom was covered in flour but all smiles. In fact, he can’t think of a time when she wasn’t smiling. He remembers her not always being happy, but she’d never let you know it.
Jonah ran into the kitchen, weaving between the legs of parents. He found his mom icing cupcakes and tugged on her apron.
“Mom, can I show everyone the football dad got me?”
She coughed twice. “Jonah, you remember the Hendersons. Aren’t you going to say hello?”
Jonah took Mrs. and Mr. Henderson’s hands in turn, nodding politely.
“That’s quite the grip you got, young man. Just like his father. Speaking of which, where is your husband this afternoon?”
“Walt got called into work. You know how it is. He should be back before cake.”
Jonah dashed to his room to get the football his dad had given him that morning. It was signed by Leroy Harington, the Megatropolis Knights’ star quarterback. Jonah’s friends oohed and awed, as well as several of the fathers.
The afternoon grew later and later, but there was no sign of Jonah’s dad.
“Time for cake,” his mom called.
Candles were lit, and everyone gathered around the kitchen table, but suddenly, one of the parents called out from the other room.
“Everyone, come quick. Captain Amazing’s on the news.”
The children were the first to go, pushing and shoving to get the closest spot in front of the television. The parents came in next, pulling their kids away from the screen so that everyone could see.
Sure enough, Captain Amazing blazed in front of the camera. Headlines scrolled across the base reading, “Lieutenant Blitzkrieg Attacks Midtown.”
The cameraman zoomed in and out trying to find the money shot of the two titans. Finally, he found it. It was a little blurry, but everyone could definitely make out the bright blue costume with the golden A on the chest throwing punch after punch.
Blitzkrieg’s face ran with blood, but his swastika tattoo was clearly defined.
The fight didn’t last long.
Captain Amazing wrapped a nearby stop sign around Blitzkrieg, restraining him for the cops. The MPD had been trained in everything from crisis intervention to crowd control, but nothing at the academy could have prepared them for a ‘roided up Nazi refusing to acknowledge that the war had ended decades before.
The news reporters flooded around the Captain, questions flying through the air like killer bees swarming their target.
“Captain, what do you have to say to the people of Megatroplis?”
“What are you going to do to prevent Blitzkrieg’s escape from jail? This is the fifth time he’s gotten out this year alone.”
“Boxers or briefs?”
“Captain, do you have any special someone in your life?”
One by one, Captain Amazing answered every question. There’s no need to worry. I’m always here. We’re currently working on a new cell at Steelsmith Penitentiary. Briefs. No.
Years later, Jonah would find out that his father answered that last question the way he did in order to spare his family, but he knew it hurt his mom every time she had to hear it.
The families watched as the police escorted Lieutenant Blitzkrieg into a specially designed transport. Then, the Captain received a call on his League of Extraordinaries communicator. Something about unidentified ships entering Earth’s atmosphere somewhere in South Africa. He politely declined further questions and leapt into the air.
The kids all complained that the show was over, and their parents guided them back to the kitchen for the interrupted cake ceremony. Jonah looked at his mom across the room. She ran her floured fingers through her hair and bit her lower lip until it turned white. Then, she caught Jonah’s eyes and gave him the smile he was so used to seeing.
Everyone gathered around the cake and once more sang “Happy Birthday” in loud cacophonous unison. The birthday candles had burned to nubs in the time that everyone had been in the living room. Wax pooled on the cake’s icing.
An hour or so later, the guests departed with handshakes and hugs. Jonah went to his room to play with all his new toys. His mom finished cleaning downstairs then waited for her husband in the living room, bathed in the television’s blue light. Eventually, she gave up and went to bed, but Jonah stayed up. He wanted to show his dad everything he’d gotten that day.
Finally, sometime after midnight, the front door opened and in stepped Walter Mandell. Jonah stood at the top of the stairs and looked down on his father. His right eye looked swollen and blue, and his lower lip was split.
“Are you O.K., dad?”
He smiled, causing his lower lip to bleed. “Rough day at work, son. It’s nothing. I’m sorry I missed your party. How’d it go?”
“Good.”
“That’s good.” He nodded to himself. “Your mom in bed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you should be too. Come on, Champ.”
Jonah’s dad mounted the stairs and walked Jonah to his bedroom at the end of the hall.
With his mighty arms, he lifted his son into the air and laid him gently on the bed. Then, he laid down beside him.
Before long, Jonah’s dad started to snore, exhausted from his day. Jonah watched his father’s chest rise and fall and soon fell asleep himself.
The next morning, his father was gone. He was called into work early.
Jonah ordered a jack and coke and waited with his arms folded on the counter, his head hanging low between his shoulders. The bartender brought the glass over and filled it up. Jonah asked him to leave the can of soda.
He’d only started drinking a few months before when he turned twenty-one, but he still couldn’t adjust to the taste of alcohol. He liked the warm feeling that it gave him, pouring through his veins, but only accompanied with a heavy dose of fruit juice or carbonated drinks, anything to dilute the flavor.
His own father never drank. Jonah had always seen that as such an admirable quality in the man. Years later, he found out that his father’s body metabolized the alcohol so quickly that no matter how much he siphoned into his blood, it would never have much effect. He couldn’t get drunk if he wanted to. What a shame.
At the opposite end of the bar, there was a shuffle of shoes, a clank of a walker, and a loud round of wheezing, full of phlegm and old age. Burrowing his head further into his glass, Jonah listened as the once-infamous Lieutenant Blitzkrieg ordered a drink and proceeded to rant about his former days to the young, acned bartender.
The man’s voice rasped with the Third Reich, full of authority, failure, and then shame. Each sentence followed this pattern one after the other, starting with gusto and slowly trailing off into something close to a denial. Jonah imagined that the voice was not far from what his own father’s would’ve sounded like if they hadn’t just buried him earlier that morning, nor did he imagine it was far from what his own voice would eventually amount to once his dreams had been dashed away with age.
“You know, kid, I once went toe-to-toe with Captain Amazing,” he said to the youth. “Heck, I used to fight him once a month if not more. And you know what I realized during all those fights?”
The bartender polished a glass.
“I learned that Captain Amazing was nothing more than an over-sized bully. He’s the one who started every fight. Sure, people say I provoked him, with my threats to the mayor or to a school, but he always threw the first punch.”
Blitzkrieg pursed his pruned lips around the thin red straw that was stuck in his drink. The condensation on Jonah’s glass ran down to the counter, pooling in a ring, and Jonah picked at the bar’s edge.
“What ever happened to freedom of speech? Isn’t that the great American lie told to us by all the Jews in Washington? If my poor father had lived to see this day. Donnerwetter! I shudder to think of it.
“Now look at me,” he said. “I can barely walk. My body just suffered too much in my youth. I tried applying for insurance, but they wouldn’t cover me. ‘Occupational hazard.’ That’s what they told me. They say I did this to myself. What do they know?”
Blitzkrieg launched himself into a fit of coughing, bracing himself against the rusted frame of his walker. Jonah had never seen something look so menacing and pathetic at the same time.
“I’ll tell you something. I wish the Captain was still here, just so I could put him in the ground myself. Then, I would dance a Schuhplattler on his grave.” Blitzkrieg made jerking claps, occasionally slapping his thighs in an oom-pa-pa waltz.
Jonah could feel his palms sweat, and his face grew increasingly hot. He tried as hard as he could to remain calm, but the old man had it coming. All the missed birthday parties and baseball games and Christmas eves and bedtimes; they were all because of Captain Blitzkrieg and his sick, deluded, self-serving tirades.
Jonah tried to ignore it as the old man continued his German dance, but his laughter had become too much. Jonah turned to go.
“My word, you look just like your father, young man.” A skeletal hand covered in brown spots gripped Jonah’s shoulder with surprising strength.
Jonah turned to face the stranger.
Despite his age, the old man filled his finely pressed suit like the soldier he once was. The pleats on his pants extended from the man’s waist to his reflective black shoes, straight and sharp like the blade of a ceremonial sword. His shoulders swelled inside his suit jacket. His thinning hair had been precisely combed. And, of course, right in the center of the old man’s brow, Jonah saw the harsh right angles of a fading swastika tattoo. Jonah remembered how bold and defined the tattoo had once been.
“I wish I could say I was sorry for your loss,” he said, “but to be honest, I’m glad the man’s dead. That’s why I am here after all. I wanted to see the body with my own eyes, make sure this wasn’t another one of your father’s tricks.” His breath smelled of medical plastics and alcohol.
Jonah emptied his glass. “No, sir, it’s not a trick. I assure you he’s very much dead.”
“I guess that means I won.” His laughter turned to coughing, and he clenched his hand to his chest. “Although a heart attack is not how I pictured his end. I always saw him lying there with my hands around his throat; you know, going out with his boots on. But that was always your old man, Captain Disappointment.”
Jonah’s face flooded with blood, turning bright red. He couldn’t take it anymore. Blitzkrieg’s face became the face of every villain his father had fought, every bank robber and kidnapper he had put away. Suddenly, Jonah let fly his fist into the old man’s face. The kraut tried blocking the punch but lacked the speed from his former days.
He toppled over, walker and all. Several nearby guests rushed to help him up. The old man’s withered legs struggled to support him, and his face had turned pale as death. Whatever satisfaction Jonah had expected had dwindled away in that moment.
Jonah began to feel sick again and headed toward the restroom. On his way, he heard their whispers. All the press, all the fans, all the heroes eager to fill his father’s boots. I can’t believe he did that. What is wrong with that kid? He’s just an old man. Captain Amazing would be ashamed. You’d think his father would’ve taught him better than that.
Jonah walked into the bathroom and hung his head low over the sink. He ran cold water and let it wash through his fingers. A few times, he splashed it against his face, letting it drip off the tip of his nose or run down to the top of his shirt collar, leaving a distinct, damp ring all the way around his neck.
From outside the bathroom door, he could hear people shouting. Without drying off, he walked back to the main hall only to be met by a stampede of capes and masks rushing past him. In a flood of color, all the superheroes in attendance bounded out of the convention center and took to the skies in one form or another; jetpacks, grappling hooks, rocket boots, or by some miracle of physics that Jonah never could understand.
Following the heroes came the reporters and photographers from every publication, news station, or blog that had been in attendance.
Jonah asked a nearby man what had happened.
“Some madman just released a fleet of robots in downtown. All the capes just took off. We were told to stay inside.”
At that moment, a plump woman with piled-up red hair came rushing to the man’s side.
“Honey, Teresa just sent me a text. She can see the whole fight from the top of her building. She told us to come watch it.”
And with that, the woman ushered her husband out the door without even a nod to Jonah or any sign that she knew he was there.
Little by little, the rest of the crowd dwindled away. The mayor gave his condolences, posed for a few last minute photos then said he was needed at the office. With a firm nod, he was out the door, surrounded by a flurry of his advisers.
After another half-hour, all the visitors had gone, all except two. Jonah looked over to the bar and there sat Lance and Blitzkrieg, sidekick and villain. Jonah tried to make an exit, but Lance called him over. Reluctantly, he walked toward the two men and took an open seat on the right. Lance was finishing some story, and the old man answered with uproarious laughter, which led to another fit of coughing.
“Jonah, nice of you to join us. Barkeep, one more round, and bring an extra glass for my brother. It’s our dad’s funeral, you know?” Lance’s words slurred but were warm and smooth. “I was just telling Old Blitzy here about the time the Captain caught the mayor with a certain femme de la nuit.” He gave Jonah a wink and went on with his story.
“So, we had just gotten the call that someone had heard screaming from room 312 of the Waldenstein Hotel, and we were climbing up the side of the building as fast as we could. Finally, we got to the window, and there was this gorgeous woman stark naked on the bed. Captain Amazing asked her if everything was alright, and then – this is the best part – the freaking mayor comes prancing out of the bathroom wearing a speedo, a mask, and a freaking cape.”
The two men lost themselves in laughter, and even Jonah began to smile. It eased the tension between him and Blitzkrieg, but he felt the need to apologize all the same.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “No matter what you were saying, I should not have hit you.”
Blitzkrieg laughed. “It is nothing, child. In fact, it took me back to my younger days. You hit just like your father, you know?”
Jonah smiled at this and raised his glass to his father’s former arch-nemesis. What good would fighting do now? Captain Amazing was in the ground, and Blitzkrieg’s days of villainy were buried alongside him.
It had been a long day, and Jonah felt exhausted. His vision started to blur, and everything was a dream.
The doors to the convention room were propped open by several janitors who began sweeping the floor and collecting dirty dishes. The bartender told the trio that he would have to close up. They requested one more round of drinks, and together, they walked outside and sat on the curb in front of the convention center.
As they sat there, Blitzkrieg started sharing the stories of his youth with Jonah and Lance; how he’d emigrated from Germany, how he’d skipped two grades in high school before anything like that was even heard of, how he’d met his future wife, and how he’d built his first killing-bot. Though sunken in his head, the man’s eyes sparkled with every word.
Eventually, he began telling Jonah all the tales of his battles with Captain Amazing. He would use the little plastic sword from his martini glass to jab at the air for emphasis and to reenact the fights from days gone by.
When he finally finished, a silence hung in the air, and a distant clash of metal from several blocks away echoed through the streets.
“What I wouldn’t give to be fighting that robot right about now.” Lance’s voice was heavy and fell down to the cracked cement.
“Why don’t you?” Jonah asked. “My father’s gone. Maybe it’s time for Kid Awesome to don the mantle and become Captain Awesome.”
“I would have to come out of retirement for something like that.” Blitzkrieg chuckled into the bottom of his glass.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jonah, but the truth is I’m nothing without your dad.” Lance cleared his throat. “He was the muscle and the brains. Half the time, I didn’t even do anything, and the other half, I was just in his way. No, when your dad passed, I knew it was time for me to hang up the tights.”
“It’s a young man’s game.” Blitzkrieg swallowed the last of his cocktail and threw the glass to the pavement. It shattered against the sidewalk, sending shards in all directions. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time I head home.” He shook Jonah’s and Lance’s hands then started off toward the bus stop across the street.
After a few steps, Jonah called out to the retired villain. “I’m sorry again about earlier. If there’s anything I can do–”
“Thank you, Captain, but think nothing of it. You have already done more than you know. I’ll be seeing you around.”
The sun was setting off to their right, casting a brilliant orange across the city’s skyscrapers. The fighting of the robots had died down in the distance, and all the two young men could hear were the traditional sounds of the city getting ready for bed. Televisions blared, cars honked at one another caught in the evening traffic, trying to get home.
Above their heads, the word MEGATROPOLIS emitted a neon buzz, and pigeons cooed as if it were midday.
And there, the two sat together long after their drinks were gone. Jonah listened as Lance recounted one exploit after another, and in the haze of the night, Jonah imagined that he was there. He saw it all before his eyes; all the fights, all the rescues, all the heroes, all the villains, Lance, Lieutenant Blitzkrieg, and his own father. Then, as the night faded and morning started to come, all Jonah’s visions blurred together, and he couldn’t tell who was who.
Lance stood up and hailed a cab, agreeing to call Jonah later in the week.
When the yellow taxi pulled up to the curb, Lance offered it to Jonah, but Jonah had decided to walk. The two young men shook hands once more then parted ways.
Jonah turned left down the street and headed towards the sunrise, the beams of which crested over the city skyline and glistened on Jonah’s cheeks.
He’d only started drinking a few months before when he turned twenty-one, but he still couldn’t adjust to the taste of alcohol. He liked the warm feeling that it gave him, pouring through his veins, but only accompanied with a heavy dose of fruit juice or carbonated drinks, anything to dilute the flavor.
His own father never drank. Jonah had always seen that as such an admirable quality in the man. Years later, he found out that his father’s body metabolized the alcohol so quickly that no matter how much he siphoned into his blood, it would never have much effect. He couldn’t get drunk if he wanted to. What a shame.
At the opposite end of the bar, there was a shuffle of shoes, a clank of a walker, and a loud round of wheezing, full of phlegm and old age. Burrowing his head further into his glass, Jonah listened as the once-infamous Lieutenant Blitzkrieg ordered a drink and proceeded to rant about his former days to the young, acned bartender.
The man’s voice rasped with the Third Reich, full of authority, failure, and then shame. Each sentence followed this pattern one after the other, starting with gusto and slowly trailing off into something close to a denial. Jonah imagined that the voice was not far from what his own father’s would’ve sounded like if they hadn’t just buried him earlier that morning, nor did he imagine it was far from what his own voice would eventually amount to once his dreams had been dashed away with age.
“You know, kid, I once went toe-to-toe with Captain Amazing,” he said to the youth. “Heck, I used to fight him once a month if not more. And you know what I realized during all those fights?”
The bartender polished a glass.
“I learned that Captain Amazing was nothing more than an over-sized bully. He’s the one who started every fight. Sure, people say I provoked him, with my threats to the mayor or to a school, but he always threw the first punch.”
Blitzkrieg pursed his pruned lips around the thin red straw that was stuck in his drink. The condensation on Jonah’s glass ran down to the counter, pooling in a ring, and Jonah picked at the bar’s edge.
“What ever happened to freedom of speech? Isn’t that the great American lie told to us by all the Jews in Washington? If my poor father had lived to see this day. Donnerwetter! I shudder to think of it.
“Now look at me,” he said. “I can barely walk. My body just suffered too much in my youth. I tried applying for insurance, but they wouldn’t cover me. ‘Occupational hazard.’ That’s what they told me. They say I did this to myself. What do they know?”
Blitzkrieg launched himself into a fit of coughing, bracing himself against the rusted frame of his walker. Jonah had never seen something look so menacing and pathetic at the same time.
“I’ll tell you something. I wish the Captain was still here, just so I could put him in the ground myself. Then, I would dance a Schuhplattler on his grave.” Blitzkrieg made jerking claps, occasionally slapping his thighs in an oom-pa-pa waltz.
Jonah could feel his palms sweat, and his face grew increasingly hot. He tried as hard as he could to remain calm, but the old man had it coming. All the missed birthday parties and baseball games and Christmas eves and bedtimes; they were all because of Captain Blitzkrieg and his sick, deluded, self-serving tirades.
Jonah tried to ignore it as the old man continued his German dance, but his laughter had become too much. Jonah turned to go.
“My word, you look just like your father, young man.” A skeletal hand covered in brown spots gripped Jonah’s shoulder with surprising strength.
Jonah turned to face the stranger.
Despite his age, the old man filled his finely pressed suit like the soldier he once was. The pleats on his pants extended from the man’s waist to his reflective black shoes, straight and sharp like the blade of a ceremonial sword. His shoulders swelled inside his suit jacket. His thinning hair had been precisely combed. And, of course, right in the center of the old man’s brow, Jonah saw the harsh right angles of a fading swastika tattoo. Jonah remembered how bold and defined the tattoo had once been.
“I wish I could say I was sorry for your loss,” he said, “but to be honest, I’m glad the man’s dead. That’s why I am here after all. I wanted to see the body with my own eyes, make sure this wasn’t another one of your father’s tricks.” His breath smelled of medical plastics and alcohol.
Jonah emptied his glass. “No, sir, it’s not a trick. I assure you he’s very much dead.”
“I guess that means I won.” His laughter turned to coughing, and he clenched his hand to his chest. “Although a heart attack is not how I pictured his end. I always saw him lying there with my hands around his throat; you know, going out with his boots on. But that was always your old man, Captain Disappointment.”
Jonah’s face flooded with blood, turning bright red. He couldn’t take it anymore. Blitzkrieg’s face became the face of every villain his father had fought, every bank robber and kidnapper he had put away. Suddenly, Jonah let fly his fist into the old man’s face. The kraut tried blocking the punch but lacked the speed from his former days.
He toppled over, walker and all. Several nearby guests rushed to help him up. The old man’s withered legs struggled to support him, and his face had turned pale as death. Whatever satisfaction Jonah had expected had dwindled away in that moment.
Jonah began to feel sick again and headed toward the restroom. On his way, he heard their whispers. All the press, all the fans, all the heroes eager to fill his father’s boots. I can’t believe he did that. What is wrong with that kid? He’s just an old man. Captain Amazing would be ashamed. You’d think his father would’ve taught him better than that.
Jonah walked into the bathroom and hung his head low over the sink. He ran cold water and let it wash through his fingers. A few times, he splashed it against his face, letting it drip off the tip of his nose or run down to the top of his shirt collar, leaving a distinct, damp ring all the way around his neck.
From outside the bathroom door, he could hear people shouting. Without drying off, he walked back to the main hall only to be met by a stampede of capes and masks rushing past him. In a flood of color, all the superheroes in attendance bounded out of the convention center and took to the skies in one form or another; jetpacks, grappling hooks, rocket boots, or by some miracle of physics that Jonah never could understand.
Following the heroes came the reporters and photographers from every publication, news station, or blog that had been in attendance.
Jonah asked a nearby man what had happened.
“Some madman just released a fleet of robots in downtown. All the capes just took off. We were told to stay inside.”
At that moment, a plump woman with piled-up red hair came rushing to the man’s side.
“Honey, Teresa just sent me a text. She can see the whole fight from the top of her building. She told us to come watch it.”
And with that, the woman ushered her husband out the door without even a nod to Jonah or any sign that she knew he was there.
Little by little, the rest of the crowd dwindled away. The mayor gave his condolences, posed for a few last minute photos then said he was needed at the office. With a firm nod, he was out the door, surrounded by a flurry of his advisers.
After another half-hour, all the visitors had gone, all except two. Jonah looked over to the bar and there sat Lance and Blitzkrieg, sidekick and villain. Jonah tried to make an exit, but Lance called him over. Reluctantly, he walked toward the two men and took an open seat on the right. Lance was finishing some story, and the old man answered with uproarious laughter, which led to another fit of coughing.
“Jonah, nice of you to join us. Barkeep, one more round, and bring an extra glass for my brother. It’s our dad’s funeral, you know?” Lance’s words slurred but were warm and smooth. “I was just telling Old Blitzy here about the time the Captain caught the mayor with a certain femme de la nuit.” He gave Jonah a wink and went on with his story.
“So, we had just gotten the call that someone had heard screaming from room 312 of the Waldenstein Hotel, and we were climbing up the side of the building as fast as we could. Finally, we got to the window, and there was this gorgeous woman stark naked on the bed. Captain Amazing asked her if everything was alright, and then – this is the best part – the freaking mayor comes prancing out of the bathroom wearing a speedo, a mask, and a freaking cape.”
The two men lost themselves in laughter, and even Jonah began to smile. It eased the tension between him and Blitzkrieg, but he felt the need to apologize all the same.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “No matter what you were saying, I should not have hit you.”
Blitzkrieg laughed. “It is nothing, child. In fact, it took me back to my younger days. You hit just like your father, you know?”
Jonah smiled at this and raised his glass to his father’s former arch-nemesis. What good would fighting do now? Captain Amazing was in the ground, and Blitzkrieg’s days of villainy were buried alongside him.
It had been a long day, and Jonah felt exhausted. His vision started to blur, and everything was a dream.
The doors to the convention room were propped open by several janitors who began sweeping the floor and collecting dirty dishes. The bartender told the trio that he would have to close up. They requested one more round of drinks, and together, they walked outside and sat on the curb in front of the convention center.
As they sat there, Blitzkrieg started sharing the stories of his youth with Jonah and Lance; how he’d emigrated from Germany, how he’d skipped two grades in high school before anything like that was even heard of, how he’d met his future wife, and how he’d built his first killing-bot. Though sunken in his head, the man’s eyes sparkled with every word.
Eventually, he began telling Jonah all the tales of his battles with Captain Amazing. He would use the little plastic sword from his martini glass to jab at the air for emphasis and to reenact the fights from days gone by.
When he finally finished, a silence hung in the air, and a distant clash of metal from several blocks away echoed through the streets.
“What I wouldn’t give to be fighting that robot right about now.” Lance’s voice was heavy and fell down to the cracked cement.
“Why don’t you?” Jonah asked. “My father’s gone. Maybe it’s time for Kid Awesome to don the mantle and become Captain Awesome.”
“I would have to come out of retirement for something like that.” Blitzkrieg chuckled into the bottom of his glass.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jonah, but the truth is I’m nothing without your dad.” Lance cleared his throat. “He was the muscle and the brains. Half the time, I didn’t even do anything, and the other half, I was just in his way. No, when your dad passed, I knew it was time for me to hang up the tights.”
“It’s a young man’s game.” Blitzkrieg swallowed the last of his cocktail and threw the glass to the pavement. It shattered against the sidewalk, sending shards in all directions. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time I head home.” He shook Jonah’s and Lance’s hands then started off toward the bus stop across the street.
After a few steps, Jonah called out to the retired villain. “I’m sorry again about earlier. If there’s anything I can do–”
“Thank you, Captain, but think nothing of it. You have already done more than you know. I’ll be seeing you around.”
The sun was setting off to their right, casting a brilliant orange across the city’s skyscrapers. The fighting of the robots had died down in the distance, and all the two young men could hear were the traditional sounds of the city getting ready for bed. Televisions blared, cars honked at one another caught in the evening traffic, trying to get home.
Above their heads, the word MEGATROPOLIS emitted a neon buzz, and pigeons cooed as if it were midday.
And there, the two sat together long after their drinks were gone. Jonah listened as Lance recounted one exploit after another, and in the haze of the night, Jonah imagined that he was there. He saw it all before his eyes; all the fights, all the rescues, all the heroes, all the villains, Lance, Lieutenant Blitzkrieg, and his own father. Then, as the night faded and morning started to come, all Jonah’s visions blurred together, and he couldn’t tell who was who.
Lance stood up and hailed a cab, agreeing to call Jonah later in the week.
When the yellow taxi pulled up to the curb, Lance offered it to Jonah, but Jonah had decided to walk. The two young men shook hands once more then parted ways.
Jonah turned left down the street and headed towards the sunrise, the beams of which crested over the city skyline and glistened on Jonah’s cheeks.