Other People's Heroes (The Heroes of Siegel City) (34 page)

Noble and “Lionheart” became a tag team at this point, painting me as a spy, a killer and an enemy of mankind. I kept waiting for one of them to pull out a pointer and connect me to the grassy knoll theory. They rambled on for a good half an hour, and it was nearly five a.m. before they finished. The glares and looks of hatred cascaded down on me and, by proxy, Sheila and Animan.

“Tom,” I moaned, “how long?”

“
Soon,”
he said. This time I got the impression
he
was the one omitting “I hope.”

“Joshua Corwood,” boomed Morrie over the nasty, contemptuous mob, “do you have anything to say in your defense?”

I looked around at the blazing, hate-filled eyes. Only four people in the room wore anything but rage on their faces: Sheila and Animan, Mental Maid (who looked like she was desperately, and unsuccessfully, fighting the Gunk’s control) and the Goop (who was looking more and more like somebody had just rolled over his kitten with a lawnmower).

“Yeah,” I said, standing up. “I’ve got something to say.”

“Josh,” Animan pleaded, “these people are out for your blood!
Anything
you say, they’re gonna twist to use against us. What are you gonna do?”

“What else?” I said, with what I hoped was a confident grin. “Filibuster.”

I gulped and began.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my esteemed colleagues would have you believe that I was a killer, a murderer, a philanderer and a bunch of other big words that end in ‘er’. And I would say to them, ‘I know you are, but what am I’?”

Sheila groaned.

“If they have their way, my co-defendants and I will be spending twelve years in Leavenworth. Or eleven years in Twelveworth. Or five to ten at Woolworth’s.”

“What the hell is he
doing?
” Animan hissed.

Gunk and Noble both had fire in their eyes and for a moment I thought Morrie was going to break. Then I saw Mental Maid, her face clenched in concentration, and instead Morrie shrugged and said, “okay. But this better be good.”

“You may be asking yourself why you should believe me when I claim this man before you is not Lionheart? Particularly when any fool can tell at a
glance
he’s Lionheart. Well I ask you, who are you gonna believe, me or your own eyes?”

Animan moaned something that I believe included the phrase, “Gut us like a speckled trout.”

“Oh Christ, he’s gonna do Abbot and Costello next,” Sheila whimpered.

And I did. I did “Who’s on First?” I did “Niagara Falls.” I proved mathematically that seven times thirteen was twenty-eight.

Once I ran out of old comedy routines, I did some Shakespeare. Hamlet’s soliloquy. Romeo’s balcony scene. Then the Gettysburg address. The preamble to the Constitution. The “Mr. Adams, Dear Mr. Adams” number from
1776
. A particularly moving speech I remembered Kermit the Frog making once. The assembled Capes and Masks kept scratching their heads, whispering each other, nobody knowing what was going on or what to do about it.

Finally, just when I thought I was going to have to go into my William Shatner impression, two things happened:

Morrie shouted, “
Mister
Corwood, is there a point to
any
of this?”

Tom’s voice screamed,
“Josh! We’re ready! We’re coming through!”

“Yes, there
is
a point!” I howled, staring right at “Lionheart” and Doctor Noble. “Bring ‘em through, Tommy!”

My head suddenly felt like it was being pounded with a thousand jackhammers, from the inside. There was an eruption of pain and light and noise, but when my head cleared I could see between me and the dais half a dozen figures. The Defender, the Tin Man, Condor and Oriole, Miss Sinistah and my old pal Hotshot. The room screamed as a single unit and there was a mass of shrieking and confusion, and I was grinning like a maniac.

“The cavalry has arrived,” I said.

JACKPOT

On my mental slot machine, I already had two BARs and the third roller was still spinning like a Ferris wheel. It seemed like it had been spinning forever.

But it was slowing down.

On the dais, Morrie looked like a guy who couldn’t make out the last number on a winning lottery ticket. Noble was muttering something I would have bet was along the lines of “
Now
what?” and the Gunk’s Lionheart-eyes were suddenly flaring orange with rage.

“
Stop them!”
he screamed.

“Stop
what?
” asked the Defender, stepping forward. His voice was an echoing bass, the type of voice that makes speeches that send men off to war. “Have we done something wrong? Aren’t we welcome here, ‘old friend’? Or are you just afraid we’ll uncover something you don’t want getting out?”

As he debated with “Lionheart,” the Tin Man fell back to the defendants’ table and began picking the electronic lock on Animan’s power dampeners.

“You can shut these things off?” Animan asked.

“You kidding me?” Tin Man said. “Who do you think taught Particle to
make
‘em?” Even though the only part of his face we could see through his faceplate was his eyes, I could tell they were both smiling like an old firehorse that’s been called back to duty.

“If these young men are as guilty as you claim,” the Defender continued, “what was their motivation? What have they
gained
from their supposed crimes? Or perhaps there were no gains at all, perhaps all the gains can be laid at
your
feet!”

“Is he making a
speech
?” Sheila asked.

“Ah, he used to do this stuff all the time,” Tin Man said.

“Yeah,” cooed Animan as his dampeners popped off. “Isn’t it
great
?” Then, to Tin Man, he asked, “We’re about to do something really stupid, aren’t we?”

“You bet.”

“Woo-hoo!”

Tin Man turned to me and began picking the lock on my dampeners. Unfortunately, Noble’s eyes were a lot sharper than his sense of morality.

“He’s breaking Corwood out!”

“
Stop him!”
Gunk spat even louder. This time I could actually
see
orange waves of energy coruscate from his head to those closest to him -- the Arachnid, Whipstar and Arrow Ace, among others. They all turned and charged us.

“Hold them back!” Hotshot shouted, and the LightCorps sprung to action. If being in retirement for ten years had lessened their skills any, they didn’t show it. The Defender took Whipstar out in three swift chops. Oriole grew to her full size while delivering a flying kick to the Arachnid’s solar plexus. Condor took the fight to the air, sweeping down at Doc Noble and dodging a series of teke bursts.

“Hurry!” I shouted.

“I
am
hurrying!” Tin Man yelled as the crowd erupted. Most of the Capes and Masks were frozen to their spots, confused, unsure of what to do. The Goop was actually ripping chunks out of his head, which were quickly reabsorbed into his slimy flesh, screaming like a child being forced to choose between his parents.

Some of them, though, the ones who weren’t particularly bright or forceful (including, I’m sorry to say, the Conductor) began to zero in on us like the living dead.

“Hurry
faster
!” I bellowed, but the point became moot a second later when there was a twang, a clang and a spark. Arrow Ace actually banked a shaft off the Tin Man’s chestplate and lodged it in the power dampeners before Miss Sinistah took him out.

“He destroyed the locking mechanism!” Tin Man cried.

“Well isn’t
that
swell?” I yelled.

“Wait, let me!” The Defender leapt over the melee and aimed his sword at the center bar. Just before he brought it down in its arc, though, the sword leapt from his grasp and speared upwards, implanting itself in the ceiling.

“Telekinesis,” Noble said, hovering above us. “It’s a beautiful thing.”

“Son of a--” the Tin Man fired his boot-rockets and launched into the air, shouldering Noble aside and racing for the sword. I didn’t see what happened next, though, because just then the doors opened and Flambeaux and Spectrum bolted into the auditorium, both wearing hospital gowns.

“Yaaaagh!” I replied, leaping from the dais just before the Ray hit. Spectrum charged me, trying to trick me into retreating into the beam, but I held my ground and he passed right on through. Once the hologram cleared my vision, I saw Solemna leaping at me, her hands smoking.

I ducked and lashed out with a foot, flipping her onto her back. Then I smashed her on the back of the head with my power dampeners, knocking her cold but not turning the damn things off.

“I’ll
kill
you!” Justice Giant announced, eyes flashing a bright orange. He shot up to twelve feet tall and tried to smash me with his huge fists. I darted to a clear spot and heard a snarl. Animan, now Wolph, had jumped on the Giant’s back and was slashing with his claws.

“Murderer!” There was a blast of accordion music and I fell to my knees. The Conductor backhanded me and I fell to one side as the music subsided.

“I’ll stop you!” he shouted. “I’ll stop you if it kills me!”

“Ted, for God’s sake,
listen to yourself
! Do you think the
LightCorps
would be here fighting if that was really Lionheart? You’re smarter than that!”

“
No!”

I rolled to my feet and lashed out with a kick, knocking him down. He looked up just in time to see the power dampeners falling down to his face.

And I stopped them there.

“I could have bashed your head in just then, Ted. If I was what you thought I am, I
would
have, I’ve got nothing to lose. For
God’s sake, BELIEVE ME!”

Ted’s eyes flashed -- orange, just for the briefest second -- and his lip quivered. “Josh?” Then a look of rage appeared on his face and he launched his fist into the air, straight at my head.

Or so I thought. Actually, it went just a little to the side, drawing blood from the nose of Herr Nemesis, who had snuck up behind me.

“Josh?” Ted moaned, “what the hell is going on here? I was gonna kill you, man. Sweet God, what’s
happening?
”

“You came around,” I said.

“His loss!”

Noble swept down, batted Ted aside and nailed me in the gut with a teke burst. I went crashing into the first row of seats, now empty except for the Goop, who screamed when he saw me and buried his head in his arms. “No!” he cried. “No, you
can’t
be bad, little guy, you
can’t
be, but... but Gunk said... and Gunk...
YOU CAN’T BE BAD!”

“Naw, of course not.” Noble grabbed my cape and hurled me back to the dais, where Flambeaux and Spectrum each caught an arm. They slammed me against the wall and, between them, the dampeners and Noble’s telekinesis, I couldn’t move.

And the roller slowed even more.

“
No!”
Goop shrieked.

“Wake up!” I screamed. “Mental Maid, you showed me the truth! Spectrum, I
work
with you! Scott, you
know
me!
YOU KNOW ME
!”

Mental Maid raised her hand. It quaked and shook and I wondered how she could ever hit anything trembling that bad, and I knew she couldn’t miss. The mental slot machine had almost stopped.

“Goop!” I howled, “this isn’t you! What are you, some sort of pawn? You’re a
doctor
! Your name is Edward Plante! Eddie Plante! Plante!
Plante!
”

I was screaming so hard I was out of breath after each syllable and gulped down air like water. When I started hysterically screaming Goop’s last name, over and over again, it didn’t come out “Plante! Plante!” Instead, I heard, “Plant-ah! Plant-ah!”

“
PLANTAGENET!”
I roared, the fear in my voice replaced with clarity. “That’s
it
! The Crusades! Plantagenet! Richard the L--”

“
NO!”
Gunk cawed. The beam didn’t touch me. Goop stood before Mental Maid; I was safe in his shadow. The blinding white filtered through his orange slime-flesh, which began to grow translucent and then opaque.

The entire auditorium ground to a halt as everyone turned to watch, to see what the Goop was turning into -- to see what he really was.

Crouched down on the floor, he grew a pair of black trousers and boots. He grew a red tunic. A blue cape burst from his back and shimmied down his front, with a blue mask crawling up his face. A shock of raven hair sprouted from his head. His flesh was pink and healthy again, and a beautiful yellow emblem appeared on his chest. When he stood up, he smiled at me. It was the smile of a man who would fly into a burning building to pull out a ten-year-old boy.