by Starmaster
#14716
“It’s been a difficult year for heroes,” Starmaster said as he stood before the gathered members of the Star Force, Star Force Junior League, and L.U.S.H. (Legion of Unusual Superheroes), as well as other individuals, such as Crossroads, Krystal Fae, and several others who were considered friends. Those who couldn’t attend in person were represented by holographic images of them in various seats in the infrequently used planetarium theater of the Star Force Observatory, the leagues headquarters in New Amsterdam. “We have a lot of trust to rebuild with the people of the world.”
“That ain’t all our fault,” Wyldfyre said from his seat in the front row. “If those schmucks with the World Corps hadn’t been such a-ho—,” Wyldfyre held threw his hands up in apology, clearly having received a telepathic reminder from Starmaster about his language,”—sorry, such portals of bodily excrement, all these people would still be throwing their bras and panties at us when we walked by.”
“Colorful as always.” Starmaster shook his head at his friend from the platform he spoke from. “While not every citizen is quite that enamored with BADGE and the rest of the leagues who work with them, they used to have a fair bit more faith in us. All the times we had to abandon them with the kidnapped augments who acted as if they were military police in a war zone had eroded some of that faith. We did what we had to in order to survive, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t come at a price.”
A murmur of conversation broke out in different sections of the room, heroes sharing how their interactions with the common man had changed in recent days. Chained Angel stood up from her seat, her white wings bright in the dimly lit room, as if they were radiating their own light. “It isn’t just with us as heroes. People have lost hope and become more isolated with their families and neighbors. Communities are having a very difficult time bringing back a sense of identity, falling apart into everyone being either ‘us’ or ‘them’.”
Many of those in the room nodded in agreement to her assessment. Fear and suspicion were rampant across the areas the heroes patrolled. What could once have been easily solved problems by people coming together now had become festering wounds that only seemed to inspire bickering. Solutions weren’t sought, but confrontations focused on who was wrong and how they should be punished.
“So, what do we do?” Madam Marvelous asked. As everyone’s eyes turned to her, she grew smaller. Not from using her shapeshifting powers, but due to her apparent effort to sink into her own chair for regret of speaking.
“I wish there was some one thing we could do, but there isn’t. There isn’t one thing anyone can do to make it better.” Starmaster said as he shrugged.
The attention returned to him, accompanied by a stunned silence. Heroes never admitted defeat like that, or they shouldn’t.
“Well, if there isn’t anything we can do, I say let’s get out of here and have some fun,” Major Malicious Mischief said. She clapped her hands together loudly as she stood up. “Who else wants to get wasted?”
Wyldfyre half-stood up from his seat. “Now that sounds like a plan.”
“I didn’t say that we couldn’t do something,” Starmaster said as he waved for both of them to take their seats. “There isn’t ONE thing we can do, in my opinion. There are many things we have to do if this is going to get better. First, we need to reinstall one of the most important habits people need in their daily lives. To begin, I’d like to thank all of you for joining me and taking part in this conversation today.”
“You’re… welcome?” Catalyst said.
Starmaster chuckled and took a moment to turn and survey everyone gathered. “It is that simple, people. Be thankful for the people in your circles. Be thankful and let them know how you appreciate them. It is far to easy to take people for granted these days. Tell someone how much they impact your life and be welcoming when they share their appreciation of you. Sometimes how to take a compliment is a forgotten art.”
“And it’s that simple, is it,” Wyldfyre said with a smirk. “Be a cheerleader and save the world. Anyone else want to get their kumbaya’s out?”
“If people would let it be,” Starmaster shrugged to his oldest friend. “Yes. There is a time to be adversarial, and when we are called to fight, as heroes we do, but doesn’t it make sense that we need to be as mindful for moments where we have to show respect and courtesy to others as well. Recent events have taught us to look for the bad to be suspicious. Do we pay as much attention to what is right and good in life, or is it overlooked?”
Way-Ohh. Way-Ohh. Way-Ohh. The HQ alarm sounded from every hallway in the building.
“OMG, who else was hoping for evil to strike to get us out of here? Hands?” Kyrie E. Laser said as her camera drones launched from her shoulder mounts. “I’m all for a moving speech, but as the director always says ‘action scenes fill the seats better than nappy monologs’”
The planetarium projector lenses swiveled as a holographic image of Director Nova appeared in the air above Starmaster. “Heroes in New Amsterdam. We have had a sighting of a powerful threat attacking the Save-More warehouses. A foul necromancer is attacking it. Here is surveillance of the scene from our remote helicopter.”
Chase leaned into view, whispering to Director Nova. His face turned sour and cut away as an ariel view of New Amsterdam’s largest commercial cold-storage warehouse came into focus. Employees ran out of the building, some bloodied from gashes torn through their work uniforms. A man in a hardhat stumbled into view, shouting at the top of his lungs. “It’s horrible. It’s Cincinnati all over again.”
“Let me correct my previous report. It isn’t a foul necromancer. It is Fowl Necromancer,” Director Nova’s voice said over the displayed zone of attack. “Where do they get these names?”
Out of the open doors, still wrapped in plastic wrappings, frozen turkeys and chickens marched out into the loading dock. Tiny red cooking timers popped out of several breasts and struck the fleeing employees in their backs while others manned modified oil drums with oil frying vats, launching whole frozen birds like missiles at the parked cars.
“You guys can handle this one. I’ll distract Chaz Hamilton and keep him from reporting on this. We don’t need another WKRP fiasco. Nova out.”
The holographic camera went out and the room of heroes shared disgusted, amused, and utterly baffled glances until Wyldfyre sat back down. “Let the other leagues handle this one. I say we sit this one out and have lunch instead. When you’re done lecturing, of course.”
Happy Thanksgiving, Heroes Rising.
(If you have time, do consider saying thank you to your league mates, the game developers, artists, and other employees and let them know you appreciate their efforts. A little good will goes a long way.)
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