Hero's Work

            I stared down at the letter, beside myself with a mixture of anger and exasperation. The logo and letterhead of The Alliance of Superheroes stood in bold face on the top of the page, the gold ink twinkling with the reflection of my lava lake. This had been the third note this month, and the fifth overall. I thought the first one was a mistake. But it, and all the subsequent ones, had my name on them and were addressed to my volcanic island lair.

            The message of all the letters was the same: “Please pay your Alliance membership fees. If you do not, your alter ego will be removed from the approved heroes list and any future acts of heroism will be considered unsanctioned vigilante acts. Annual fees total $450.32 and should be sent or brought to City Hall, 1278 Wall St., Victoria City, CT, 06072. Please make checks and money orders payable to The Alliance of Superheroes. For your convenience, payments may also be made online at www.AOS.com/members/dues. Cash payments will not be accepted.”

            I crumpled the letter in my hand and tossed it to the floor. It was outrageous! How could I have gotten enrolled in a superhero organization? I had specifically ignored these audits in the hopes that the delinquent fees would show I was a lawbreaker, but clearly it was to no avail. This was the straw which broke my back, and I decided to answer that question once and for all.

 I called the AOS and demanded to know how this had happened. Tina, the surprisingly pleasant phone operator, explained, my actions had been reviewed and judged by the Board of Super Trustees as “heroic and altruistic; involving powers or tools beyond the average citizen.” Hearing this, I was livid. In what way could anything I ever did be considered “heroic and altruistic?” Controlling my voice as best I could, I asked Tina to explain just how that judgment was made.

There was the soft tapping of a keyboard on the other end of the phone before she answered. She said that my record showed several great acts and how they had been deemed hero worthy. I listened with disbelief as she read them off. The armored truck robbery I pulled off turned out to have been on a crime syndicate’s convoy, and the money taken was within the legal amount of commission for such a job. The apartment building I destroyed downtown was condemned for numerous code violations and my work had saved the city thousands over hiring a contractor. The diabolical inventions I patented, even the death day that was currently under review as a “mold and biological de-atomizer,” had increased jobs within the patent department and added to the general body of scientific knowledge.

Tina continued to speak, but I wasn’t really listening. It was like a dream. A bad dream. All of my efforts to prove myself a villain, to combat and confound those sickening do-good heroes who thought they were so much better than everyone else, to show that ingenuity and technology should be used to take power and solely serve its creator, all of it had done the complete opposite. I vaguely heard Tine saying how the organization was being lenient with the late dues because of some other good deeds, and I curtly thanked her and hung up.

With a great sigh, I heavily fell into my armchair to mull over this new information. I thought about everything I was told and how each act of heroic villainy had gone down. Had I not done enough planning or research? Was this all freak coincidence that made my work turn out positive? Or was I not really capable of the terrible acts I thought I was?

This last idea gave me pause for some time. For years I had been so sure in my motives and ideologies. Heroes were a menace: they gave an unrealistic sense of justice, made the populace dependently weak, and spouted quasi-communist beliefs that every talent, power, or invention was meant for everyone, not those who actually possessed them. But for the first time I began to question those axioms. According to those who watched and judged (another so-called heroic act I despised) I did those very things. Was it possible I was wrong? Perhaps, I thought, the heroes really were the good and wholesome beacons they claimed to be.

I pondered this possibility for a long time, sitting in the red glow of the magma and feeling its warmth. Finally, I made up mind and knew what I had to do. I tucked everything I needed into the pockets of my overcoat, got into my boat, and made my way towards City Hall.

Having never actually been inside a government building like this, the scale and activity were a bit shocking. Huge grey-marble pillars extended up to a domed roof nearly 100 feet overhead. The walls were layered in a white laminate that mimicked marble and had busts of both government figures and super heroes lining the round room. There were dozens of people waiting in a line at the main reception desk, with sporadic workers darting from office to office as well. A sign near the center of the room pointed to a small alcove on the left and read “Office of Alliance of Superheroes’ affairs.” I turned sharply and headed in.

This office was much smaller, carpeted, and had many more pictures and newspaper clippings on the walls. The voices and keyboard sounds of employees in the cubicles towards the back could be heard, but the only other person in the room was the receptionist. As I walked up, I saw her nametag said Tina. A semi-familiar warmth filled me as I thought about how kind she had just been on the phone, underscored by her inviting and toothy smile.

I subdued these emotions fiercely. Reaching into my overcoat pocket, I pulled out the death ray for its debut. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. The smile dropped from Tina’s face as I pointed the weapon at her. I pulled the trigger and watched as she writhed in pain, a sharp scream erupting from her. She doubled over as the beam vaporized her skin where it struck her. By the time her body hit the floor, large sections of her flesh and muscle were gone, exposing only bone and tendon.

I stood over the desk, looking down at my handiwork and smiling with dark pride. I could hear other office workers starting to move, probably to act or call in the heroes. “Let them come,” I thought, the ray’s power surging in my hand. There would certainly be no doubts now about my standing with the Alliance of Heroes.