...I just realized that I haven't posted on here for an entire YEAR.
Holy potato.
Anyhow. This is the second short story I wrote for my science fiction class. The first one isn't done yet... Because I have to fix it. And it's kind of long. But here's this one. And this second one had to be about a superhero.
Unsung Hero
Sometimes it’s hard for me. To see him flying there, the city’s cherished Golden Eagle. He is the epitome of a superhero, a picture perfect image. He has an ideal physique, a tall height. His hair is blond, his eyes blue and sparkling, his smile perfect. He wears a sky blue cape, emblazoned with a golden eagle, and it flares behind him as he soars through the air, above the crowds who are screaming his name, reaching out their hands to him.
There are days when I find it sickening. Their adulation of him. They treat him like a god, and he accepts it with a smile and an arrogant tilt of his head. Of course, they don’t ever see the arrogance. He’s their hero. Their perfect, perfect hero. He even has the perfect powers of a hero, those of super strength and flight. He can lift a bus with one hand, dive to catch a falling child, stop a train, and rise into the air to accept the praise that is so readily given to him.
Oh, but I’m being childish, aren’t I? Heh. And I’m theoretically supposed to be the mature one here… Whoops.
It’s… funny, almost. Funny to watch him from where I stand. Funny to see how he is revered when I know everything that happens behind the scenes. But it’s also hard. Hard to see someone take the credit that belongs to you. Even harder when you know that the person flying so high above you, basking in the love of the people, is your brother. Your twin brother, in fact. Younger by a matter of minutes, but always charging ahead as if he is the older one.
My eyes follow him as he flies back and forth over the adoring citizens. He practically exudes pride, though, again, I imagine that I’m the only one who can spot that. But you do tend to see things like that when you’ve grown up with someone.
The reason for his victory flight over the city is the usual one: he has foiled yet another plot by one of the city’s many resident villains, this latest one a woman who calls herself Adder. She was born, or perhaps given, through whatever means, the ability to poison all that she touches. She can kill, or injure, or sicken, or taint. Even her words almost literally drip with venom. I would know. After all, the city’s beloved Golden Eagle didn’t even see the woman.
I find it ironic that he was the one born with superpowers, and yet I’m the one saving the world.
Who am I? Perhaps it could be argued that I’m Golden Eagle’s alter-ego. His hidden self. After all, he left the only real name he ever had behind, in order to become the hero of this city. And I’m all that remains of the life he used to have. My name is Isaac. Isaac Matheson. It’s a relatively simple name, isn’t it? Unassuming. Nothing special. And maybe it is by my name that I’ve always been judged.
I remember when the two of us were still in school, my brother and I. And while he might not have received the best grades, he was always the most popular. He was always the center of attention, joking and laughing and leading his lackeys around. Everyone liked him. The students, the teachers, everyone. I swear he could have gotten away with murder.
But then, I could have gotten away with murder too. Though only because no one would believe I had the guts to do it.
I was what they call a prodigy. A genius, if you will. Nothing academic or intellectual was ever difficult for me, no matter how difficult it may have been for others. In my own assessment of myself, I acknowledged that I could have graduated from high school at the age of twelve, easily. But I didn’t. With genius comes recognition…but I knew it would never be recognition like my brother’s. So I stayed silent, made sure that I always had at least one B- on my report card, and remained relatively inconspicuous. It worked out pretty well.
My classmates had a name for me. They called me the Silent Philosopher, for while I did my best to stay unnoticed, there were times when what was called my genius showed through my façade, and the other children took notice.
Maybe that would be my name, were I were the one receiving the adoration of the crowds… But Golden Eagle is a much better name for a hero, isn’t it?
We don’t quite know what happened to him. Why he has these powers. Was it something that happened to our parents that was passed to him through birth? Was he unknowingly exposed to some superhero cliché, like radioactive waste? Perhaps some mutated animal bit him… It isn’t important, though. What is important is the day that he realized what he could do, the day that he realized that he could be a hero.
I still find it kind of funny that the first evildoer he ever tried to defeat, a mob boss in the lower regions of the city, captured him so easily. His strength and flight were nothing against a cunning mind, as it turns out. And he wasn’t the one who had been bequeathed with genius. They talk about brains over brawn, you know? It’s not a lie.
For my brother’s sake, I braved that first metaphorical lion’s den. I engaged in mind games with his captor, and in the end, I—I—was the one who emerged victorious.
But who was I? I was no one. I didn’t even look like anyone, for goodness sakes. Small, skinny, a shock of messy dark brown hair on top of my head, my eyes brown and unassuming. Sometimes it’s hard for even me to believe that we are twins.
How could I compare with my brother’s image? I wasn’t a hero. Not in looks, and definitely not in attitude. So it was decided. He had the expected powers, and the expected looks, and I had the ability to save the world. I don’t dare to say that we became a team, because what type of pathetic mockery would we be then? No, I will say that he became the face, and I became the deeds, and together, we created the Golden Eagle. From that moment on, he was the city’s hero, and I was the reason he could be city’s hero.
That’s why it’s so funny to see him flying up there. Because he doesn’t do any of the deeds that are attributed to him. Why do you think he never allows any of his heroics to be documented?
Funny, so funny. Funny and hard. And the only ones who know are those that I defeat, straining in mind games against them, foiling their plots through intelligence alone. But who would ever believe a villain?
This latest villain, this woman, the Adder… Somehow she knew. I don’t know how. Maybe it was only an incredibly lucky guess. Maybe it was intuition. Maybe she knew that if she poisoned the already oh-so-tenuous relationship between my brother and I, she could defeat the undefeatable hero, the Golden Eagle. Her lair was a mass of mazes, timed traps, automated minions. She might have been a genius herself. I bypassed her defenses easily enough, because things like that have never been difficult for me, but when I finally faced her…
Somehow she knew. She knew.
And so she spoke to me, her voice a sibilant whisper, and told me how she could give me recognition beyond my dreams. She spoke of how she could transform me into someone who was revered and accepted. She said that if I joined her… I could become more than my brother ever was. I could be the one that everyone turned to. I could be a hero. Maybe her words were the reason I couldn’t capture her, and she escaped to plot again.
Was I tempted by her offer? I’m embarrassed to say that I was. It shames me to say that even now, as I watch my brother fly so high above me, while I am only one member of a huge crowd, I am thinking of the offer. I could be recognized… My genius, my talent. I could take my brother’s place.
But this glory would come through a path that I don’t want to take. Yes, I am tempted by her offer. Yet to walk the path of a villain in order to become a hero… That doesn’t seem right to me.
Her words, hissed into my ear, still haunt me. “Join me, and I can give you everything. I can make you great.”
But… Maybe I am already great.
My face furrows into a frown as I watch the hero they call Golden Eagle, the man I know as my brother, soar through the air.
In some ways, he’s still so much like a child. Craving the attention, practically feeding off it. Do I need that? Do I require the worship, the status of a god?
I cast a final glance towards the hero of the city.
The Adder offered me power and glory. If I remain as I am, I will never be anything more than only a person.
Then it is a choice: Become a hero by walking the path of a villain… Or stay as I am, only human, a role I’ll never escape.
In the end, it’s less difficult than I would have imagined. It‘s a single, simple step that turns me away from the crowds of Golden Eagle’s devoted followers. Hand shoved in my pockets, all it takes is one step after another to walk away from the glory.
Suddenly, even thinking that I could ever need such a thing makes me feel shallow. Worship? I’ve survived well enough without it so far. Recognition? No, it’s not necessary.
I know what I have done; it is enough.
I remain an unsung hero, then. But it’s not so bad. After all, glory is such a pain.
So with a small smile and a shake of my head, I leave the crowd behind.
