This kind of thinking may make me sounds like a downer by the time you get up to this post if you started reading from the first story but it's these tenuous bonds I hope to explore more of and to reach that goal I've decided to make Conversations in Tights a series of slightly interwoven tales about this group of heroes and how they live doing what they do.
In this tale the group deals with the death of one of their members. This is just the start of it and though it may seem like an ending to most to them it's more or less just a Tuesday.
As always, comment!!
Conversations in Tights - In Memoriam
“I... was...sixteen when I ran way from home...or at least that’s the story...my parents would tell if you asked...... I was born different, far too different from what was expected of upper middle class yuppies, and so rather than tossing me out as planned they decided to send me to a special boarding school for different kids like me.”
We’re all sitting around in a circle as Garth, the Wonderman, talks about his origins. Looking around the room some of us are in full costume, masks folded up just slightly so we can breath comfortably or snack on refreshments if we want.
The people of New York call us The Ultra Squadron, sworn protectors of truth and justice, but we’re just normal people. We’re gathered here today to morn the loss of one of our own; though we all know he’ll be back shortly.
“I know the school, Garth. You forget a couple of us are Alumni there.”
Jason, also known as Caduceus, interrupts as he makes the rounds to his seat.
“Try not interrupt. That’s not the point. The school isn’t where it started for us, the day your powers activated isn’t even the start. We’re talking about the origin. The one thing that keeps us human. We all came from somewhere. We’re all human. We can never forget that. The second we do we’ll up like him.”
The room goes silent for a few seconds; a century to us with enhanced perceptions of time. This is the only reason we’ve been brought together on this day after the funeral. Garth hopes to keep us grounded but I don’t believe any of us are even aware of where the ground is.
“They think we’re gods.” Stephanie Stevens sits across the room, chiming in for the first time since the funeral ended. “They think we’re gods and; god, I’ve never told anyone this; it scares me. It scares the hell out of me that they think we can do anything. That they just stand there frozen thinking we’ll save them when a car comes soaring through the air. I’m just a girl. Just a normal girl.”
I can tell it’s getting to be too much for her. She only joined us a short while ago and already the deaths and stress are taking their toll. I wish I could say something to comfort her but I’m still frozen. I was there when the Captain died. He was powerless in the face of evil and I was powerless to help him. I’m always powerless. I’m the only one of us without any real powers. I can’t fly, I don’t run at super-speeds. I’m just smart, or at least crazy enough to jump around on rooftops.
“But you’re not just a normal girl, Steph. You were sick, were you not?” She sits outside the circle of chairs, just staring at us in slight annoyance. Jenna Fallory, the Nyx; she loved the Captain and now he’s gone. “You were sick and you ended up being the lucky girl chosen for a revolutionary experiment. Garth keeps trying to get us to talk about our humanity but none of us count as human any more. You’re not just a girl any more.”
“If that’s true then when did you give up being human?” Garth asks this as he turns to face the distraught woman in black and red spandex. “When did you choose to distance yourself from the people we help day in and day out? When did you choose to stop loving the Captain?”
“You son of a --” Jenna’s eyes go red as she shoots up from the wall but The Silent Spectre motions for her to stop.
“That’s the whole point of this, Jenna. No matter how powerful you get you’ll still be tied to your humanity. I haven’t given up on myself.” The Silent Spectre, Jon Jones, finally speaks. “I wasn’t born on this Earth, you all know this. I was raised by a simple family who instilled in me all the values humanity had to offer. They knew I was different and yet they treated me just the same as their other children. You all may not think of me as human but as I love and breath here right now I know I ask and I could never dream of giving up my family. I know the captain would never give up on you.”
The room grew silent for a few beats. It's doubtful any of us expected for this wake to turn into a philosophical debate about who we are and yet, somehow it has. For each of us there is something that defines our humanity; something that uniquely makes us who we are she gives us the courage to do what we do.
I lost my parents at a young age, becoming CEO of the family company almost instantly. I was alone, afraid of the darkness that consumed my parents and wanted to consume me as well. But it’s this fear that keeps me stable. It’s the fear that brought me to where I am now; to how I met the Captain.
We each have our own story about him but not the type that the media are looking for. None of us remember him for his strength or agility. No, it’s his simpleness that calls out to us from our memories.We remember ghim for the prankster he was; for the way he always remembered a birthday and nudged us all to throw a party; for his spot on Leno impressions that brought a smile to even my icy demeanor.
I’ll never forget the night we sat alone atop the Chrysler building drinking beers. He knew my fears; knew how I struggled with the thought that everything I did was for revenge and pushing me closer and closer to the darkness I ran from.
It was then in that he told me his own secret: he was afraid of flying. He told me the first time he ever flew he broke his back after not knowing how to land. Since then the thought of flight has frightened him uncontrollably. Every single time he ascended into the sly for whatever task, he was sacred shitless.
It baffled me that the man who dives off of bridges to catch falling buses in midair; the man who blasts off into the sky and shrug off a megaton bomb with the slightest effort was afraid of something that was a part of who he was. I’d asked him why he still did it and it was his answer that showed me just how normal he really was.
“I fly -- because I have to. If I didn’t do it then my fears would win and people could die. I’m more afraid of what could happen if I don’t do it than of anything that could happen if I don’t.”
I miss him, more than I’d ever let him know.
My melancholic mood seems to reflect on the faces of the others as once friendly gazes are displaced in deep contemplation, reflecting on their own shared experiences. It’s my turn to speak, the social queues all point to me but they know I’m not the sentimental time. The loss doesn’t show on my face as much as I radiate it but regardless, my feelings for him are my own.
“Guys....” I being to say, slowing as my voice trembles slightly. I know there’s no point wasting tears but I still can’t help myself. It takes everything I have to keep my composure. “Remember the time he turned Count Malicious’ entire castle inside out while the count was taking a shower?”
At this question I see them slowly cracking smiles as we all remember the Count stepping out of his shower on to his tile floor that led to an expansive skyline.
“Man...that was a great one.”
We sit there in the moment; rather than mourning his loss we celebrate his life and the joy he’s brought us. I won’t cry for him, not this time. Instead I’ll just say ‘see you soon.’
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