All You Need To Be A Hero

By the next day, it was all over the news.

"HERO'S EPIC DEFEAT AGAINST VILLAIN RESULTS IN LOSS OF SUPERPOWERS"

Social media called it, 'The Greatest Defeat of the Century.'

Either way, my life, my reputation, was ruined.

It shouldn't have even been a tough fight. Mister Masquerade was another half-baked wannabe supervillain with a stupid master plan to rule the city of Overrun. Like always, I crashed his premature citywide domination party, beat up his masked goons (all dressed like they were on their way to a bird-themed ball), and then got to the big guy himself (I say 'big,' he's more of a skinny nerd in cosplay). He starts monologuing on me about how unfair and unjust the system is, yadda yadda, dirty cops and politicians, prejudice against minorities, evil capitalism - nothing I haven't heard before, and then we get to the fight. I'm glad I listened to his rant - it gave me a minute to catch my breath (I'm no spring chicken these days).

So our 'battle' went ahead as normal. He had masquerade-themed weapons, I countered them with my super strength, flight, and speed, and I tried tying him up for the police to take him in later. Then he puts this glove on his hand as I go to knock him down, and finally shows me his own superpowers. He looked as surprised as I did. See, his ability was to drain energy from others. But with this glove he invented, it increased his power tenfold.

One hit, and I went down, hard. I felt sick, exhausted, and I hate to say it - scared. I suddenly felt the burden of my own weight, the cold of the concrete beneath me, the blaring spotlight from the helicopter overhead dazzling my eyes. I was hit by mortality. My muscles ached, my bones were rattled in the fall, and for the first time in my life, I felt vulnerable.

He stopped his attack, hesitating a moment before being hurried away by his remaining conscious goons. They scooped up their fallen friends too, as the SWAT team arrived to deal with it all. The villain was long gone, and the armed men stood over me, guns pointed at my head (vigilantes weren't often appreciated in Overrun). They were worried I'd try to fight back or escape, but I didn't. I couldn't. In the end, realizing I was helpless, they called for an ambulance.

I'd never been in the ER before. Were hospitals always so busy? I only ever visited the children's ward to read to kids on Saturdays, I'd never been a patient myself. The doctors checked me over, quickly exposing my secret identity to the waiting paparazzi by accident. That was the first horrible thing. They checked my vitals, for concussion from the fall, and for any indication on what the problem may be. They'd never studied a super before at that hospital, they had to call in a specialist the next day who knew more. And she told me the one thing I'd dreaded to hear - it was permanent, I would never regain my powers.

My father picked me up from the hospital another couple days later. I was wheeled out, and met by a crowd of devastated fans, haters there to laugh in my face, and the press.

"How does it feel to lose your superpowers?" "Does this mean you'll be retiring from hero work?" "Multiple supervillains are still at large, how do you think they'll respond to this?" That was only a few of the questions they threw at my face. I just wanted to get home. I couldn't stand their eyes, their expressions. My followers were in tears. Those who despised me cheered for my failure and threatened me. My father covered me with a blanket and got me to his car as quickly as he could.

During the drive home, I was numb. He offered to stay with me at my apartment, but I refused. "I'll be fine, I just need to be alone for a while," I said. The moment he left, I locked the door and went into the bathroom to take a shower. I saw my reflection in the mirror, and broke down in tears. I sat under the running water for ages, knees to my chest, sobbing. Everything I was, everything I knew, was erased.

Needless to say, it was a rough recovery. I had enough money to cover rent for a while, but pretty soon, the landlord started posting notices through my door. I lived off whatever I had in the pantry, though I barely ate, or slept. I lay on my couch, day after day, watching the news - determined to torture myself. My houseplants all withered and died, my laundry piled up, as did the trash. My father eventually came by to visit me, since I hadn't returned any of his calls or messages. He brought me groceries and some box sets, cleaned my kitchen and washed my clothes. After a while, he got tired of helping me.

"It's no good moping about it anymore, it's been six months! I can't keep bailing you out!" He'd covered my rent for weeks. "You need to get back out there and find a job."

I had a job - I was a superhero... I was a hero... I was... No one.

A year went by. I was kicked out of my apartment and ended up on the street. A publishing company approached me, wanting to write and market my story. I agreed - anything to put a roof over my head again.

Another year passed, the royalties were enough to cover rent on a small place, although I needed something else for my other expenses. I got a job as a cashier. Some people recognized me - a few were people I'd saved who offered their help. My book was made into a movie. I got a bigger place, a better job (though my lack of actual experience in any industry limited my options), and ended up living a simple suburban life, just like the majority of the population.

Twenty years had come and gone. I started a charity for the homeless. I read in hospitals. I adopted rescue dogs from the shelter. I was often a guest speaker in schools, and I became a tutor for youths with superpowers. I didn't break any laws to help people. I was someone new, older, wiser. Normal.

And then one day, I got a call.

I went to a local coffee shop and waited in a booth. He approached me - a skinny man in a suit, with just a few grey hairs streaking through his waves. He sat opposite.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet me." His voice was as gentle as his smile. "Coffee?" He paid for us both - cappuccino and carrot cake. "I read about you in the city blog. You seem to be doing well for yourself." Our conversation was as awkward as you'd expect. Half-way through our silence, he put his cup down, his grin wilting to a frown. "I... I wanted to apologize. Honestly, I never thought it would be permanent. I was a dumb kid, reckless. I meant to hurt you, but not like that."

"Right." I wasn't sure I believed him. "So... What have you been up to?"

"Well, I... after... that day... I sort of... turned my life around. I cared about Overrun and I wanted things to change, so I started going to school. I became police commissioner." His grin returned. "I overhauled the system, put together a really good force. And I got married, my husband's a politician. We have two daughters." He leaned in. "Together, we've done a lot of good for the city. It's slow change, but we're getting there."

"Sounds like you've been busy." I chuckled, sipping my coffee. "And what's happened to Mister Masquerade?"

He stirred his drink. "I opened a dance school. Charity - we take on kids from all districts who might not have the opportunity otherwise. I'm hoping to retire soon so I can focus on it full-time."

And we talked like that - pleasantly, for a few hours. All that we'd done and all that we remembered from our active years, like old friends. Before we parted ways, he apologized again for what he did.

I never told him "It's okay." Instead, I let him know what it did to me. "You did the impossible. You killed a superhero. Sure, I miss who I used to be. It was hard to find myself again. I had a lot of dark days... But I learned something. Maybe I couldn't stop people from robbing banks, or save people from burning buildings, or fight supervillains like in the good old days, but I could still help people, I could still be a hero. Anyone can." I looked at him. "And I see you figured that out as well."

He nodded, his expression weakening once more. "I destroyed the glove. I promise you, I'll never use that power again."

I sighed, gazing up at a plane flying overhead. "Our superpowers are a part of who we are, but they're not what makes us heroes. If your job is to keep the city safe, I'd say do whatever it takes, though that's the kind of mentality that got us into this mess." I looked back at him. "So instead, I'll say - do good. That's all you need to be a hero."