Out of Service: The Hero Behind the Mask Is Not Here Right Now

“Rex, come to the door,” Aida said, resting one hand on the hard wood as she pressed her head against it. “I know you're in there.”

Her plea was met with silence. She sighed and knocked on the door of the apartment again.

“Please, just speak to me! I promise to not ask for anything. I just want to know you're okay.” She glanced down at the pile of newspapers crowding the ground in front of the door. The place where a welcome mat used to be. Today's issue sat on top, with those same faces yet again. “They're not even mad, they understand you tried your best.”

Before she could even look up, she was being pulled through the open doorway. The door was slammed shut and the deadbolt was thrown as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The only light was from a small TV on the ground in the corner. Aida could hear one of the characters from some video game crash a car and start swearing, followed by the eruption of gunfire. Rex turned it off.

“It's bad enough to knock on my door, but I can excuse it,” Rex said. “Are you really going to lie to me just to get inside? I feel like human trash, I don’t need denial to fix this. Or pity.”

Aida set down the large container of homemade cookies Rex was looking at. She approached him and stared him straight in the eyes as she put her hands on his shoulders. She could feel the tension in the muscles in his chest.

“Rex, I am not lying to you. I know you tried your best. Even your harshest critics would admit that was an impossible situation, there was nothing you could have done.”

“Then what good am I!” Rex screamed. His chest became rock hard as it expanded, just long enough for Aida to pull her hands back. The floor creaked under the added weight. “How can I be the hero if I can't be anything for anyone!”

“You don't have to be a hero!” Aida screamed back. “Those don't exist!”

Rex looked at her, taken aback by the force in her words. And the sheer volume generated by her small frame.

She started talking fast, “The idea of a hero creates an expectation, a demand at all times. People that want a hero want you to always be everything for everyone. Any problem, you're the solution. And guess what? You are just like them. You think you can do it all, and fix it all. Just because you have these powers. They, and you, expect the world of you,” She screamed again, “That is insane!”

Rex made a sound, the start of a word, but she kept going.

“You are just one man. You are not the mythical Cannonball they see in those shows or that tacky exaggerated artwork they sell to tourists downtown. You are one very real person, behind the costume that people see as Cannonball.”

“Aida,” Rex managed to say, but she kept plowing ahead.

“You do a lot of incredible things, but look in the mirror. No human could ever live up to what you have built in your head! Or what the public has built for you!”

Rex looked at her, no longer trying to speak. She looked back, trying to hide the worry on her face. He had never been violent before, that was not what this was about. But suddenly the reality of being alone with an invincible man, with quasi super strength, while he was in a deeply emotional state…it all left her feeling terrified. And she started to cry.

“Don't let this take away from what I'm saying!” she said, trying to hold the tears down. “You know I'm right! I just care about you too much to see you like this!” The dam burst and she began sobbing. Rex stood there awkwardly while she cried, not offering to hold or to help.

She eventually caught enough breath to say, “I'm sorry I'm like this.”

“Aida, I think you should leave,” Rex said calmly. “I appreciate you for coming over, but this is not a time for conversation. This is not a good situation for either of us. I just need to be alone.”

Aida nodded, tears still welling up. She undid the lock and ran out without looking back.

Rex watched her slam the door. Now he was alone again.

Her voice echoed in his mind. She was not the first person to tell him to stop putting so much pressure on himself. The other heroes told him that all the time, urging him to find some outlet. And to talk to someone.

Every single time, that was when Rex came back to this apartment and sat alone. And in that alone he battled his demons. He was invincible on the outside, and built his whole career on being able to defeat anyone. So he should be invincible on the inside too. Every time before, he had won those battles.

At that moment, the cycle of the past three days repeated. The glimmer of light he began to see in his mind reminded him of what was casting the shadow. And when he looked upon that source, he physically screamed aloud. Sinking to the floor, he began to cry again.

They were in a room, the very one Rex had just burst into. The entire family was tied to chairs, screaming with all their strength. Standing in the middle, smiling, was their uncle. “Nice of you to join us, hero,” he said. Then he laughed. Then he pressed the detonator in his hand.

What followed was a flash of light and heat. Rex was thrown thirty yards, and landed across the street. His body was covered in burns, which his skin healed immediately. The family, and the uncle, and the entire house were a pile of ash.

Rex had run in, trying to be the hero they had needed. There was nothing left, not even the semblance of a person to save or a monster to punish. Rex was alone in the wreckage for three minutes and twelve seconds, until the first responders showed up. They forcefully pulled him away, and took him to the hospital to check for wounds. That was when they finally recognized Cannonball, the hero who suffers no injuries.

Cannonball, the lone survivor of a complete detonation.

The tears poured like a waterfall down Rex’s face. “I can’t do this,” he managed to say, to the nobody gathered in his room. Of course there was nobody, he had kicked everyone out of his life. To be the hero to his own story, all he needed.

Rex fell into a chair, and continued sobbing. The image of hope on the family’s face replayed in his mind, over and over. Hope that he betrayed through complete failure.

As the moments passed, a thought rose to challenge this. If he was supposed to be hope to these other people, failure or not, where did he look for hope?

The crying slowed as he wrestled with this thought. He did not have an answer, but he knew he should. There was a correct response, one that would make any concerned friend go away satisfied. Whatever the truth inside, what was supposed to be his answer?

As he stared into the darkness, the solution still eluded him. So he decided to start with what he did know on a broader scale. How did he approach problems? He punched them. He used his invincible body, with his super-hardening skin and muscles, to suffer any abuse and torment as he launched his own offensive against any threat. And he inevitably survived as he stopped the problem with his own force.

So how could he apply that to this situation? Rex was suffering the abuse, he knew he had that part down pat. But how could he punch the threat inside him?

“Wait,” he thought. “Am I properly suffering the abuse?” This anguish hurt more than being shot. This was not something his skin could simply heal. And if it could not be beaten back, either, then it really was a threat like he had never seen.

So what did he always do with a threat he could not stop? If he met a limitation, he never admitted defeat. And yet the other heroes still showed up. They had that miserable way of knowing he needed backup, so they showed up and helped. And together they always won.

Rex’s answer to an impossible threat was stubbornly hunkering down. Life’s answer to Rex was to send the aid he would never ask for.

Rex swore as he realized what he needed. He stared forward in the dark for another minute as he tried to wrestle, to tell himself he was wrong. Then he sprinted towards the door as he peeled back the layers in his mind, laying bare the mistake.

He had to find Aida.

Opening the door, Rex nearly tripped over the figure hunched over on his doorstep. Sidestepping and stumbling, Rex fell to the ground in front of the person.

Aida looked back at him.

“I thought you left,” Rex said.

“Just because you kick me out, doesn’t mean I’ll leave,” Aida replied.

Rex pulled himself up from the ground, sat next to her, and held her. And they cried together. And it was good.