Hero Program

“We were used,” Maxman tells me. “They never told us the effects would be temporary. Have you got another beer?”

I get up and head to the refrigerator in my ‘man cave’ and go for the beer. The room is actually just a converted double-car garage with some lounge chairs and a large TV.

“When the insurance companies formed an association and came up with the Hero Program, we all thought it was a great job opportunity. We gain a ‘superpower’ and the insurance companies have extra help to protect their customers.”

Maxman gives a wry smile. “You mean the insurance companies came up with a program to help protect their bottom line. If we stop a crime, they save money. Also, it turned out to be good PR.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t love a superhero? The police treat us as vigilantes, though.” I continue. “The costumes make us look stupid to normal adults.”

“Here.” I hand him the beer. “I know, they made it sound so noble — fight crime, make the world a better place. Be a role model. They didn’t tell you that the effects were not only temporary, but that they would take a toll on the body. How is your super strength, by the way?”

“I am still stronger than the average man, but it is going away and I am feeling older by the day.”

“That's some of what I am going through now. The super quickness they gave me is slowing. I am still faster than most, but the effects are showing on my body as well.”

“In our class of recruits, I still remember the injections and how painful they were. We were supposed to be the lucky ones. Out of ten people, we were the only two who got special abilities. We thought we had it made. Maxman and Mecuryman, we thought we were so special.”

I raise my beer can to Maxman. “To us, retiring in five years and living the good life!” He gives me a grim smile. “Yeah, I remember that recruiting poster. They just didn’t tell us that the effects only lasted five years. Then we would feel fifteen years older.”

“I got a notice of termination from the program.” He says. “It appears the Hero Program knew exactly what was going to happen.”

“My letter came too. No more job in three months. It also mentioned some bonus pay, but it was not as much as I thought it would be.”

“I’m worried about my mortgage. I may have to sell my house…”

Later that week. I get an alert on my phone. There's a robbery in progress at a jewelry store in my vicinity. I rush to the location and spot Maxman coming from the other direction.

A man in a hooded jacket it pointing a gun at the clerk behind the counter. With my exceptional speed, I rush him and knock the gun from his hand. Maxman comes in behind me and picks the man up and throws him to the floor. We quickly bind his hands and wait for the police.

The store manager expresses his gratitude profusely. He even gives us each a watch from the less expensive section.

My speed and Maxman’s strength still have their advantages.

Afterwards, a few people ask for autographs outside the store. The police give their grudging thanks. I know they probably think we are glory seekers at best; at worst, we’re a nuisance.

Maxman turns to me and speaks in a low voice, “I could pay off my mortgage for what that guy was about to take from the store.”

I nod in agreement.

“Have you ever thought about going over to the dark side?”

His level of seriousness is unclear, and desperation seems to set in for both of us.

A couple of weeks later, we meet in the park. Maxman and I are both in casual clothes, so it is unlikely anyone notices us.

“It occurs to me, we are in a unique position; everyone knows us as the good guys.” He says. “Our reputation creates a feeling of trustworthiness. We have about the same credibility as the police with the public right now. We’re just flashier.”

“What are you getting at?” I ask uncertainly.

“I’m saying that if we wanted to solve our cash shortage, committing a crime would be easy. No one would see it coming.” He continues. “For example, if we were to go back to that jewelry store and say we wanted to review the security system, the owner would likely gladly give us access.”

“So you are saying we should rob someone we saved?” I ask. After being looked up to for the last five years, this makes me feel uneasy.

“Look at the reality of the situation. The Hero Program directors lied to us when we joined. Not only are we not going to make as much money now, we’re going to start with much of our body’s health used up. As for robbing, the actual victim is the insurance companies, and we’ve saved them enough money already. Perhaps it’s time for the program to cost them something.”

“I know. I’ll have financial troubles soon; this seems more than I can do. Perhaps we can become some kind of glorified security guards.” I add lamely.

“Have you checked the salaries of security guards lately? Perhaps we could start a security company if we had the money, but I doubt either of us does.” He responds.

“I’ll think about what you said. What I need is a specific proposal.” I can always turn down any scheme he comes up with.

“Give me a couple of weeks, and we’ll meet at my place.” He returns.

A couple of weeks later I visit Maxman at his house.

In Maxman’s living room, we continue our conversation.

“I think I have it. Heroes program aside, we don’t want to take from honest people. That’s understandable,” Maxman begins.

“Are you suggesting we steal from dishonest people?” I ask.

“We know that much of the stolen goods in this city ends up going through Miller Shipping. We know they’re dishonest; we just couldn’t catch them with evidence.”

“Go on.” I say. “Perhaps you can convince me.”

“We can use our hero skills to rob them before it’s too late. If we steal stolen goods; I doubt the robbery will even get reported.” He says. “Perhaps we can just visit Miller Shipping and see what kind of security they have.”

This sounds better to me. It could be safer to steal from someone who can’t submit a claim. “We could end up with the property; the insurance companies would pay the original owners.”

“It would be better than stealing from the original owner. Having both the police and the insurance companies investigating might be a bit much.” He adds. “We can at least do some research.”

As we pull into the parking lot of Miller Shipping, we see the large warehouse with multiple loading docks.

The costumes received as we graduated from the Hero Program are just silly looking. They gave us ID cards for times we are in casual clothes. I usually use mine to identify myself as part of the program.

“Hello, sir.” I approach a man who appears to be in his middle sixties, smoking a cigar and gazing at me suspiciously. “I am from the Hero Program. Your insurance company asked us to consult with you on your security system.” I show him my ID. He lets out a gruff noise.

The man frowns at us. “I suppose I shouldn’t make trouble with the insurance company. If you find something, let me know. I’ll be in the office.”

Maxman and I wander around a warehouse. “Do you see the ventilation windows at the top of that wall? There’s no wiring to them; therefore, no alarm.” He observes. “Also, the main breaker box is in the corner. If we were to get in, we could turn off the electricity to the alarms over there.”

“Yes, it appears the alarm system is pretty rudimentary. Only the entry doors and the loading doors are wired. It’s not much more sophisticated than a home alarm system.”

We poke our heads back into the office. “Thank you; everything seems to be in working order. The only suggestion we have is the addition of a service to call the police in case someone trips the alarm.” The man nods, showing he heard us.

We dress up on robbery night. Both of us wear our costumes from the Hero Program. Our thought is, if we get caught, we can say we are responding to a call.

Maxman uses his extra strength to get to the top windows. He then throws a rope to me to be pulled up. We complete the operation and end up on the warehouse floor.

“I didn’t see a safe, but I bet it’s in the office we saw earlier.” I say as we creep toward the office. “Listen for watchdogs or anything else.”

As we get to the office, “It’s locked, Max, can you twist the handle open.” He reaches over, and with a twisting metal noise, the door comes open. We sneak into the office. Using a small light, we locate the wall safe sitting behind a picture.

“I’ll get it.” With that, Maxman reaches into the wall and tears out a small safe. “If they have jewels on the premises, they are probably in here.”

Suddenly I get an alert on my phone. “Crap, Max, I got an alert for this location. We need to leave. The police are going to be here pretty quickly.”

With my speed, I run toward the door and peer out the small safety window. I see the first patrol car arrive. The flashing lights make me uncomfortable for the first time in years.

“Hurry, Max, we need to go! I need you to use your strength to get this door open. It’s locked!”

I see Max running across the floor with the small safe. Outside, two more patrol cars arrive. “Hurry!”

As he reaches the door, he hands me the safe. It’s a wall safe and only about fifty pounds — not heavy, not light. Max pushes on the locked door with renewed strength. His face is turning slightly red as he pushes. Suddenly it flies open, and I run out with the safe and in a direction away from the cars.

It’s the blinding light from the cars that confuses me. Suddenly it’s so bright I can’t see well, so I slow down. “Wait!” I hear Max call, “Let me get there!”

I see Max coming up on my left. Instead of grabbing the safe so I can run faster, he knocks it out of my hand. I feel his right arm wrap around my waist and lift me in the air.

I am suspended, being held firmly in Max’s arm. Max gestures with his left hand toward the police cars. “It’s all right, I have him!”

“What? Let me go!” I struggle, but he is simply too strong.

As he hands me over to the police, I’m speechless...

I never went on trial. It was much safer to plea to breaking and entering than to stand trial for grand theft. My story was never told.

Maxman and I have not communicated since that night. His complaints about the insurance companies using us sound hollow now. Thanks to him, my life continues to go downhill. I am selling my house and moving to another city.

The actions of Maxman impressed the insurance companies. They thought that anyone who would put corporate interests above friendship was their kind of employee.

The local Hero Program is now being run by Maxman. I’ve seen him and his subordinates in several insurance company advertisements. They all still wear silly outfits. I sometimes wonder how the public thinks they are going to be saved by someone in a glorified costume. It may be my cynicism, but I think he is a perfect representative of that program.

In the end, none of us were heroes. We were just pretending.