The Real Me - 1. The Real Me

Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and I turn
And I dream of what I need

-Bonnie Tyler, I Need a Hero (Stanza 1:1-6)

My name is Herman Steel. I used to be a superhero, when I had my powers. Back then, I could leap tall buildings in a single bound, run like a bullet, and fly like a jet fighter. I was nearly invulnerable to everything, except love. Most of the time, I was a mild mannered real estate agent, but when there was a high-speed chase, a bomb threat, or a cat in the tree, I’d come to the rescue.

It all changed when I met him, Andy. Andy was just another save to me at first, the usual guy falling off a skyscraper. But instead of just saving him and letting some therapist help him sort out his suicidal tendencies, I heard him out. His boyfriend had dumped him, his family had disowned him years ago, and he lost his job at an investment bank. I felt pretty bad for the guy, so I tried to help him out by finding him work. He keeps getting into bad situations though and we keep meeting up. I kind of fell in love with him after a while. There were a few near misses with him after the “falling out of a building” thing. Someone tried to tie him to an Amtrak train, which I easily redirected. Then, he gets kidnapped by one of my arch-nemesis in hopes of getting revenge on me. I rescued him like any good hero would. Finally, he tried the old jump into a volcano trick, but I got to him in time. After that, he got the hint and we were hitched in Maui. Should have been happily ever after and flying into the sunset, but not for us.

The government around that same time passed a superhero registration act, so if I had kept being a hero I’d need to reveal my identity to the world and put Andy in more trouble. The government had installed some kind of advanced tracking and cataloging satellite to keep track of super powered activity, so everyone had to register or be declared outlaws. I like being a hero and helping people, but my arch-nemesis only knew Andy was my friend. If they knew he was my husband, I’d be too busy trying to save him all the time to get any other things done. For the well-being of my partner, I suppressed my powers. Now I am as weak and mild mannered as I appear to everyone.

Sure, there was a big crime wave after I put away my cape and cowl, but a new Government agency filled with “good” superheroes that obeyed the rules cleaned it up. They set up local headquarters and “leagues” in every city, where they took over most of the jobs of the local police since the government wanted to prevent crime and cut down costs too. They also beat up student protesters, installed surveillance on every street, built walls around Muslim neighborhoods, enforced a night time curfew, and made evil disappear. Andy and I think it is too much, but hey America voted in the government and its “good” superheroes that made this all possible. Again, it just made me less inclined to join that club of “heroes” again.

At least real estate is booming. I am selling condos like hotcakes, and Andy hasn’t seen a pinch of danger in years.

Today is just like any other day. I wake up next to my honey, we make love, then rush off to work in the normal non-super speed fashion. On my way to work, I passed the newsstand and grabbed a paper. The newspaper reports a potential risk of nuclear weapon exchange, but “Colonel Nuclear” is on the case. The Guy is so full of it even back when I was a superhero, he sounded like a broken record with his “God Bless America” adages and annoying humming of the Star-Spangled Banner. I get it, you’re a patriotic superhero, but we don’t all need to have George Washington tattooed on our chest, or as I heard Ted Nugent on his back. Thinking about that blowhard gets my blood boiling faster than a magnet train.

As I turned a corner, I saw a bunch of government “heroes” performing X-Ray inspections on random people entering or leaving a subway station. Most of the people were not scanned at all, but people with darker skin tones were singled out, along with a few choice females with ample bosoms. In my day, these “heroes” would had some sense slapped some into their heads about how to treat average people more decently. Still, it’s not my business and I can’t argue random X-Rays seem to be working, so I went on my way.

On the next street corner, I witnessed another group of “heroes” grabbing Hispanic kids walking to school, demanding for ID’s, and if none were produced, they’d be flown off to the border. This has been happening for a while but no one seems to mind, because these people weren’t supposed to be here in the first place. In my day, we welcomed everyone into this country: White, black, Hispanic, Kryptonian, or green lantern, but we live in dangerous times with too many problems in this country to deal with as it is. That’s what we tell ourselves at least.

None of this stuff is really news to me, nor do I agree with it, but no one else is willing to do anything about it. No one has really done much to challenge if this stuff is right, and they have gotten away with it. I’ve got Andy to think about and my own life and career. Even if I don’t like this stuff, what am I supposed to do about it?

Then, on the last street before my office, I saw a group of “heroes” surrounding two teenage boys. One was obviously a trans-male.

I heard them jeer, “Is he your girlfriend or boyfriend?”

The boy replied without hesitation, “Boyfriend, so what? At least I don’t wear spandex for a living.”

The group of heroes surrounded them. “Listen, fag, this uniform gives us the authority to do whatever we want. I can cite you for terrorist threats right now and use your body to play football with my friend here, while your girlfriend watches.”

The trans boy sneered, “You’re an asshole. You were the one who started this.”

“Hah, the boy without balls talks like a chick. She thinks we’re being too mean.”

“I checked the chick out, definitely pre-op and judging by her tits, it’s no wonder she wants to be a boy.”

The two teens tried to run away, but they were no match for the adult superheroes with the demeanors of preschool children. I can’t hold this in, I need to do something to help them out. But if I use my powers now, then the world will know. If I don’t, those kids could be hurt and I’d be letting it happen.

I know a friend used to say, “With great power comes great responsibility”, but he never had to face a world lost in fear that accepts the concept of absolute rule without question. Even if I use my power to save these two, what can one hero do in a world full of heroes that have forgotten what it means to be a hero?

Surrounded with no hope of escape and with me debating, I heard the trans boy pray, “Please give us a hero, who will do what is right, who will fight for all, and shine a light in this darkest of nights “

What does it mean to be a hero? It wasn’t just beating up bad guys, chasing down crooks, or foiling supervillains. Sure, I saved a lot of people too, including my own future husband, but heroism isn’t just action. All of these so-called “heroes” do what I did, too. They thwart bad guys, punished wrongdoers, and gave people a sense of security. Yet, they do it at a cost and with a power that has gone unchecked. Heroism is not just actions, it is a symbol of what the world should be. Maybe not what the world is or can be, but the ideal we should strive to live by. All of these heroes, who have signed away their souls for the ability to act, have become villains. I can never join them. If that is my choice, I would happily die a hero rather than live long enough to become the villain.

I shook my fist, said the magic words, and let a wild lightning bolt strike me to return my powers in a brilliant flash.

The heroes stared in amazement as my muscular super-powered body draped in cape and cowl, “Woah, I heard you were knocked off by Dr. Insane Membrane or Quoting Quaestor.”

I gave off a hearty laugh, “Ha! I have not been defeated, nor laid to rest. Not when the world needs heroes the most against foul villains like you.”

“Look, um, whatever, you aren’t registered. You got to report to Washington to swear the oath to President….”

“I will swear no oath of allegiance except to the cause of Liberty!”

In moments, the group of troublemaking heroes had fallen to my feet, they may have been formidable in their prime as costume fighters, but years of prolonged government service has made them soft and slow. They also did not expect to be fighting another superhero, who would give up his freedom and the rewards of the current regime for the weak and meek.

I spoke to the two boys. “Fear not children, as long as there is a cry for justice, I will answer the call. Whether it is the powers of millions like myself or the power of one who wields the control of a nation, no being has the right to dictate how you live or by what standards you should live by. Farewell!”

As I left, my super hearing was able to pick up the voice of the trans boy. “He might be campy as hell, but I am glad we got a hero back.”

Flying straight to my husband’s day job as a Manager of a Starbucks, I swooped in and grabbed him from his back-office. I was also able to grab two Hazelnut Mochas and dropped a tip for the baristas.

Andy winked knowingly. “So, you finally had enough of normal life.”

“Yes, my love, I could not ignore the injustices that befell others of our kind.”

“Well, I guess I have to get used to this version of you again. I love your muscles, but I wish your dick was normal sized in this form.”

Another “drawback” about being a superhero, but Andy will get used to it again with some Yoga practice.