Suped
Larry hadn't been keeping track over the course of the evening, just hoping he could slip into some kind of induced bliss before the sun went down. The trouble with human alcohol, drugs – all of it- was that it had no effect on his physiology.
A loud sound came from behind him, muffled by the couch cushion he was on, and he looked around with a guilty expression, despite being alone. Almost no effect.
He hadn't really expected any of it to work, but had needed to try something after the day he'd been put through. It wasn't enough that people didn't want to be saved anymore, that they'd rather jump from bridges or let themselves be robbed, but that many of them were trying to hire lawyers – obvious things in suits and dark cars that watched his every more – in hopes of setting him up and then suing him for all he was worth.
Three years ago, he'd decided pretending to be the world's richest playboy wasn't really worth the time, and revealed his secret identity to the world. The money was real, and let him live life as he wanted on his downtime, but at least he could stop posing for magazines with women he hardly knew and pretending to have an interest in the human female form. Of course, it had taken shallow, desperate people only a few months to capitalize on what they knew about him, and suddenly he found himself embroiled in a lawsuit. Plaintiff “X”, said the grand jury assigned to pass judgment on him, had wanted to die, and by saving him as he fell from one of the highest buildings in the state, Larry had severely injured his neck with some kind of superhero whiplash, something that made the man's life even more unbearable. Allegedly, fifty million dollars was going to help ease his suffering.
The jury had found him innocent of any wrongdoing, but Plaintiff X was only the start. He'd had to employ his own legal team, one that would examine all of the potential liability in any rescue situation before he left the not-so-secret lair. It was only the most blatant of cons that he refused to go check out, and even then he felt a rising sense of guilt. What if his lawyers were wrong – what if someone really was in trouble?
Today, he'd ignored what they told him and went to help a man find his missing daughter, ignored the “signs” they claimed they'd seen and decided that doing good was more important than covering his ass.
It had all gone sour when he found her, not far from home and completely unharmed. As soon as he brought her back to her parents, the sweet little girl had turned on him, accusing him of all manner of improper behavior. Her parents had jumped on the same bandwagon, and Larry was so horrified at the accusation he had nothing to say, no response to make. Outside the home, a fleet of media vans had been waiting, camera's flashing to catch a glimpse of the disgraced hero as he left the scene of his crime. He'd read a few of the early stories published online, and for the first time in a dozen years, he considered leaving earth.
There was a knock at his bedroom door and he stood, pushing the pile of beer-cans off his chest.
“Come in!” He bellowed.
Frank, his security chief, slipped inside, face drawn. Frank always looked like that, no matter the situation, but he'd been getting even more dour of late. Larry had no need for security to keep him safe, but he did need a reliable complement of guards to ensure that no one tried to break into his home and “wake up” next to him in bed. The last thing he needed was a paternity suit.
“Frank,” he said quietly, “is there anything stronger you can bring me?” Larry kicked an empty can for emphasis, sending it tumbling across the hardwood.
“No.” The balding man in front of him said shortly. “Not a damn thing, unless you want to move to something outside of the law.”
Larry shook his head. He wasn't about to make things worse.
“That's what I thought – now listen, boss,” he'd insisted that his men called him that or Larry. He had no interest in being a hero at home. “We've got a problem.”
He laughed. Of course they did. “Oh? What now?”
“Just got a call from the Governor's office, boss. There's been an anonymous tip that one of the pieces of fan mail you received has anthrax. They're sending over a team to check it out.”
Larry shrugged. The government had become increasingly jittery in the last few years, and if it made them happy to poke around and make noise, he wasn't going say anything. “Let them.”
Frank's eyes narrowed. “Boss, I don't think you understand. You know who the Governor is, right?”
He shook his head. Local politics didn't interest him.
“Real dark horse,” Frank said quietly. “Came out of the woodwork in the last election, rose to power really quickly. Really quickly.”
“And?”
“And I did some digging. Seems this Governor had no history in the country before about ten years ago. Glowing resume after that, but before,” Frank spread his hands, “nothing.”
“So he's a liar,” Larry shrugged. “Aren't they all?”
“Of course, but it's not just that. His story is really familiar, and I've met the man a few times in person. He's got a bearing, a character I've only ever seen once before.” It took Larry a moment to realize that Frank was pointing at him, and he stepped forward.
“You mean -”
“Yep.” Frank cut him off. “I don't think you're alone here anymore, boss – and it looks like your countryman ain't so friendly.”
- D
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