The Last Day in September
an excerpt

I stand with my back to the white wall that has the club logo and hold what I call the pose. Left foot forward, hands on my his with the golden cape flowing over my right elbow. I duck my head down just a bit, and look at the crowd with a half smile. Jimmy, my photographer, snaps a quick shot of me outlined in the only lights in the club.

The crowd stops its scream and looks at me. They're holding their breath, waiting for me. I make them wait just a moment longer, and then I point. I've practiced this in the mirror a lot.

“Your night of terror ends here, Captain Antarctic,” I say in the quiet moment of almost anarchy. I make sure to say his name with as much gusto as I can. I point my gloved hand at the only man in the blue parka surrounded by robotic penguins- Captain Antarctic. He's what the trades call a Super Villain. Note the capital letters. He dresses in a cheap knock-off of Han Solo in his Hoth gear, except instead of a Wookie he has robot penguins that breath fire. I don't get it either. I'm just here to stop him. My name is Eric Olsen, but you probably know me better as Helios.

I'm a Super Hero.

“You can't stop me this time, Helios. My loyal Penguins can melt steel, they'll certainly be able to melt you while I steal the money! Penguins! Burn him!” the Captain yells at his robotic minions. I can't help but wonder if the man thinks in exclamation points. I imagine he thinks it's clever. Or something.

“I don't know what screw is loose in your head, Captain Antarctica,” I stress the last part of his name. “But I won't let you rob this club or these good people. Give up now!”

On cue the heads of the cute fluffy looking robotic penguins turn from where they'd been holding the crowd at bay and face me. With the precision that only mechanics can offer, their beaks snap open and small nozzles emerge. Fire comes out of the beaks like golden ropes. I can't help but wonder what he covers them in that they don't catch fire. The wispy cotton fur never gets matted or charred. The crowd finishes the scream its been holding and runs for cover. The fire loops toward me. I can already feel the heat.

I clench my gloved fists and flex what I hope is my stomach muscles. The familiar golden glow flows out from inside me, covering me in that cool warmth; the sort of cooling warm that only your mothers hand can truly offer. The fire washes over me, the heat gone from the red ropes. The liquid fire splatters around me, catching itself on the walls and tables. Some of the fire splashes out into the crowd, and people start to scream in real pain. The fire alarm will go off, and the sprinklers will deploy soon. I don't have much time.

I push off from the ground and fly across the room, the heads of the Penguins tracking along with me, their ropes of fire burning tracks along the ceiling and walls. He turns and throws the ice bomb at my face. Like everything else the Captain uses, the Ice Bomb is one of his nasty personal inventions. When thrown at the feet of a Normal, it will instantly cover them in an inch thick ice shell. The ice will quick melt after a few minutes at room temperature, but it will hold you helpless while he does what he came to do.

It does the same thing to me. I feel the instant cold wrap its hand around me and drag me to the ground. I feel the sudden stop as I skid along the ground. The crowd turned to twisted and wobbled shapes through the ice. There's a sharp snap of white light. I assume this is my photographer getting in a few more shots. I wait just a few moments, and then I tighten my sides and start to glow.

It's at moments like these that I imagine myself in the crowd. I'm standing there, aghast as it seems the Villain has the upper hand. The hero is encased in ice, and there seems to be no hope. Then from inside, a light starts to shine out. A pure and golden light that streams out like the rays of a spring dawn. Faintly there is the tinkle of cracking ice. And then, suddenly, standing with ice turned to a light refracting mist, stands the Hero. His arms on his hips, hair still perfect, and cape flowing outstretched behind him. Apollo descended from the heavens to save us.

Captain Antarctica heaves the bag of valuables and cash into the air out above the penguins. “Roast it,” he yells. He takes a few steps towards the doors in the back of the club.

“What will you do hero? Stop me, or save the money?” He cackles. He already knows what I'm going to do.

I jump up into the air and catch the bag. The beams of fire arc up to hit the bag, but it's too late. I've already taken it inside my field, and once it's there almost nothing on Earth can harm it. I hear the soft thump of another ice bomb. Ice covers the only door headed out the back. I could punch through the wall with no problem, and follow him out the back. Bring him down, and turn him over to the Special Response Team. But that would leave his lethal robots to torch the crowd. Just like he'd planned from the beginning.

I toss the bag away from me, and then kick the head off the nearest penguin. It doesn't take me long to destroy the flightless avian robot menaces, but it takes me just long enough. He'll be long gone down whatever escape route he'd set up ahead of time.

After I stomp down the last of the penguins, the crowd pushes in around me. They all reach out to touch me, to run their hands along my arms and shoulders. It's as if they aren't safe until they can touch me, reassure themselves that what happened was real and they lived to tell their friends about it.

I look around at the crowd, spread my arms to touch more of them in a moment of public intimacy. For just a moment it is just me and them. Only we exist, the saved and the savior, touching on just the edge of skin. Is this what Jesus felt like? If it was I can see why he let himself get nailed to a cross. I look up over the crowd to the waiting DJ. He nods to me, hand holding back the record. He's been waiting for me.

“DJ,” I yell over the heads around me. “Play me something good, something we can all grove to!”

And with that the preselected music starts. Its a single that hasn't hit the shelves yet. The singers voice is pure and young. She screams with the guitar, grinding on us as we party through the night. Gone from their minds is the terror. All they want to do now is celebrate life. I pose for picture after picture. Jimmy makes sure to get some of me with the best looking of the women.

I imagine he makes sure to get a logo or two in frame as well. Jimmy is good at what he does. These are the shots that will appear in the American-Statesman society pages tomorrow.

And what most of them won't ask themselves, what they won't dare to know is how did I know Antarctica would be there? And how lucky was it that a reporter with a camera happened to be there at the same time to take their picture with the hero of the evening?

I knew because it was all planned ahead of time. Captain Antarctica's agent and my agent have drafted contracts, binding agreements. We will appear in a select number of venues, and commence to battle in the grand tradition of Heroes and Villains have battled since the early days of World War 2. These venues, clubs that want to be on the trendy short list, have agreed, for a price I'm sure, to host our battles. This is being done to increase our media presence. Phyllys, my agent, says that Heroes that get on the front pages are dead before they're born. She says that the society pages is where you want to be. Tell people what's cool, and they'll ignore you. Show them what you think they think should be cool, and they'll love you.

I trust her, she's helped out some of the big names where they are today. Guys like Lantern Jack, Raven-wing, and Bluering. They are the big new names in Hero work today. They've got classic looks and bold moves. It's only a matter of time before they're brought into the upper echelon of the League itself.

And I am going to be one of them. No matter what.