Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (25 page)

He cut her off.  “You’re missing my
point.  My point is that bad people
shouldn’t
make money off of
merchandising, and good people
shouldn’t
pay more attention to it than
they do to their job.  Do firemen worry about how the toy fire trucks are
selling down at the Mega-Mart?  No.  They worry about fires.  Do doctors skip
surgery because they want to do a public appearance somewhere?  No.  Capes
should be the same way.  Good people should
do
good things, and bad
people shouldn’t have merchandise.”

“We’re not bad people…We’re just…
not
heroes.”

Wyatt nodded and began looking
through a rack of postcards.  “Stealing and hurting people are wrong.”

“And yet HERE you are.  With us.”

He was silent for a long moment.  “I
still know the difference between right and wrong, Harlot.  I just don’t care
anymore.”

She looked around the shop one last
time for anything new…quickly grabbed a couple Rembrandt art kits and then
started back down the corridor again.  “I think you’re being too hard on heroes
AND villains now.  I mean, what if stealing stuff serves a purpose? How many
BILLIONS
of dollars are pumped into the economy to try to stop us from stealing
MILLIONS?
 
Think about it.  Because we’re committing crimes, millions of people have
employment.  Cops, judges, security system manufacturers, padlock makers, the
funeral industry, hell even
TV executives
who use crime as a form of
entertainment.  When you come right down to it, crime is the number one
business in the world, and we’re the driving force behind that cash cow.  We’re
doing more for the world’s economy by stealing stuff and blowing things up,
than we could EVER do by having legitimate jobs.”  She shook her head sadly.  “But
no one wants to think about that.  All they see are the chalk outlines.”

He blinked down at her in amazement. 
“I guess I’ve just never thought about evil as a
public service
before.” 
He opened the door to the next exhibit hall.  “And just think of how many
people are able to find employment because Poacher and Tyrant have created
openings in the work force by killing the previous person who held the
position.”

She nodded.  “See, that’s what I’m
SAYING!  Besides, without villains, there could be no heroes and this city
can’t run without THEM.”

His eyes narrowed.  “Well, it’s
ABOUT to.”  He glanced over at her as they walked.  “And if you love heroes so
much, why are you a VILLAIN?  You don’t seem overly evil…in fact, you’re the
nicest person I’ve ever met…so why not go…help people?”

She shrugged.  “Well, for one
because I’m a super-villain.  It’s who I am.  And for another, cause this is
where my family is.”

His brow furrowed in confusion.  “Yeah,
but you could still do what you wanted to do and…”

“This is where my family is,
Wyatt.  I can’t abandon them; they
NEED
me.”

“They
are
total screw-ups
all right.”  He admitted.  “Well, I for one, was always glad you didn’t commit
more crimes.”

Her eyes started scanning the
display cases for her prize.  “Yeah, why is that?”

“Because you’re far more capable
than they are, and if you started doing more, than the city would be doomed.”

She beamed.  Wow.  What a nice
thing to say.  She opened her mouth to tell him so, when her eyes fell on her
target.

“A-ha!  There it is!”  She pointed
to it.  “Do you know what that
*IS*,
Wyatt?”

He squinted down at the sheet of
paper behind the glass.  “That stupid paper thing that a bunch of the old
timers signed?”

She nodded.  “Right!  That’s where
the idea of costumed crime fighting started!  It’s the original charter for the
Lovers of Liberty way back in the 20’s.  They were the ORIGINAL super-team. 
THAT’S
history, right there.  Back when this business was a game for gentlemen,
and the villains and heroes had honor.  Before the Freedom Squad started
changing things, and doing all the stuff you’re complaining about.”  She ran a
finger over the glass.  “It has the signature of every ORIGINAL hero…The first
to take a stand for the people and the country…All the greats who fell taking
Primeval down and locking him away in SeaCastle Asylum…Wow…”

He nodded disinterestedly.  “Yes, I
know.  I’ve seen it.  It’s just too bad they couldn’t have at least given him a
position in their mail room or something.  Maybe he wouldn’t have been forced
to rip them to pieces in front of the city like that.”  He winked at her. 

“You’re not funny.  I never should
have let you read that paper, if this is how you’re going to behave.”

He laughed again.  “Oh, come on! 
That essay was awesome.  I even liked all the little sketches for what his
costume could have looked like.”  He laughed.  “That was so cute.  I can just
picture you will all your little color pencils, carefully designing it…”  He
leaned against the glass case, looking suddenly serious.  “Hey…wanna just get
out of here?  We can go somewhere nice.  Have some dinner or something?”

She turned to look at him.  “But we
haven’t stolen what we came for yet.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. 
“Angel….I’m
looking
at what I came for.  In case you haven’t noticed, I
don’t care about anything here.  I just came because you wanted me to.  You
could have knocked on my door and told me that you wanted me to go swimming in
a
waste treatment facility
with you, and my only response would have
been to ask what type of sunscreen to pack.  I’m here for
you,
the rest
of this stuff is just junk.” 

She stared at him for a moment in
shock.

He shifted uneasily, as if he had
said too much, and then looked at a mannequin wearing one of his father’s old
costumes in the case across from him.  “Besides, I’ve already seen all of this
stuff.  My dad used to take me here too.”  He sighed.  “But we weren’t here to
learn anything about heroism, he just wanted us to practice following people. 
See, you had to find someone and then trail them from the museum as they went
about their day.  Then, you had to give him a report on the person’s life; who
they were, where they worked, the layout of their home and potential weaknesses. 
And if you got anything wrong……you got hurt.  Peter had scars for years for
saying this one guy’s name was spelled ‘Steven’ when it was actually ‘Stephen.’”

Her mouth fell open again.  Jesus. 
His family stories were always so depressing!  He and Uncle Roach should get
together and compare notes or something.  “Your parents were psychos, Wyatt.”

He nodded as if that was perfectly
obvious.  “Yep.”

She held out a hand.  “I need a
wedge and a sharp blade please.”  Her hand was soon filled with her required
tools and she started to break open the case.  “I guess the bigger question, is
why YOU didn’t leave the life sooner, since you obviously didn’t like it
there?”

He was silent for a long moment as
he considered that.  “Honestly?  Because I had nowhere else to go.”  He leaned
against the glass.  “And it wasn’t
ALL
bad.  I mean, Pete and me did
some stuff that helped people.  Just…”  He trailed off.  “…None of it
mattered
.”

She pried off a section of the Lucite
case and reached inside.  “Probably mattered to the people you saved, don’t you
think?”

He shook his head and pointed to a
memorial mural painted on the opposite wall.  “Did it?  Because I don’t see his
name up there, do you?”

She pulled her new treasure from
the case and turned around.  She looked over the lists of fallen heroes painted
on the wall, beneath a large quote done in cursive script: “
Heroes as great
have died, and yet shall fall.  Homer, The Iliad, Book XV, line 157”
.  Sure
enough, he was right; the list ended with his parents and made no mention of
Peter.  Jesus.  They hadn’t even put The Vegan on there, apparently not wanting
to remind people about Wyatt at all.  …And what about
Fantasti-cat!?!

The ancient Romans had a practice
they called “
Damnatio memoriae
” literally; “condemnation of memory.”  She
once had to write a paper on it for one of her art classes in school.  The
basic idea was that those that had most impugned the honor of Rome, like
traitors, would simply be erased from history.  They would never be spoken of
again, and all traces of them would be removed from Rome; art was painted over
or scratched out, statues were beheaded, public records were expunged.  Every
piece of evidence that the person had ever existed was wiped away.  It was the
most severe punishment the Roman state could give a person; in a sense, robbing
them of their life for a second time.  The museum had apparently decided that
Wyatt and his brother deserved a similar fate because of what Wyatt had done, and
had not included Peter on the memorial wall.  In fact, there really weren’t too
many references to either of them in the entire building.  They had been
erased.

He looked down at the floor.  “So,
don’t tell me that anything we did mattered.  This city never gave a damn about
us, so I’m not going to lose
any
sleep over siding against it now.”

She shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  I
still say that true heroism doesn’t require fame or honor though; it only
requires doing what’s right.  What happens after that doesn’t matter, it’s the
act itself which is important.  Do you honestly believe that Continuum would
have let the Churchill building explode if he knew that a couple decades later
there wouldn’t be a
plaque
on a wall of a stupid museum somewhere
memorializing the event?  I mean, you knew him better than I did, but he seemed
to be the kind of guy who would think that the thousand people who are only
ALIVE today because of him, was a better memorial to his actions.”

Wyatt walked away.  “Yeah.  And
where did that kind of thinking get him?”

She pulled out a sharpie and
quickly wrote out the missing names in large block letters on the wall, and
then raced to catch up with him again.  “Well, look on the bright side; at least
there isn’t a display on…”  She trailed off as she noticed that he was no
longer paying attention to what she was saying.  “What?”

His eyes narrowed at a display case
and he stalked over to it.  “Those are
MINE.
”  He pointed to a
collection of alarm clocks on display in a new case she had never seen before. 
“
I never said they could have those!”

She began reading the sign to see
if she could learn more about the clocks.  Sure enough, there was the green one,
just as Wyatt had said!  And a yellow one!  It talked!  …Oh god! 
AND
an
unproduced purple one!  There was even the original artwork to the faces and…

Her thoughts were cut off as Wyatt
began smashing at the case with a large telekinetic sledge hammer.  After
several heavy blows, the glass fell to pieces.  He reached inside the case and
began collecting his stolen goods, as well as a few other things which the
Freedom Squad had apparently seen fit to donate when he left them behind.  He
handed her the bag.  “Here you go; for your collection.”

She stared down at the bag.  “You’re
just going to…GIVE them to me?”

He shrugged.  “What the hell am I
going to do with them?  They’re stupid clocks, I never wanted them.  I just
don’t want
these
bastards to have my stuff.”  He glanced over the case
to make sure there wasn’t anything else of his in there.  “Some guys bring
their non-dates flowers, I rob museums for them.”

She reached over to take the bag
from him and her hand brushed his.  “Thanks you, Wyatt.”

He looked down into her eyes.  “Well…even
villains have to do some nice stuff every now and then.”

She leaned in closer to him.  “You’re
not a villain, Wyatt.”

 He took her face in his hands.  “Well,
give me time.  I’m new to the business…”

He kissed her.  His soft lips surged
against hers in an almost hungry fashion.  She let out a soft moan as he
pressed her against one of the display cases.  She reached up to grab the back
of his head and her legs wrapped around him.  His large hand began massaging
her lower back and his other hand caressed her face.

Wow.  This was really happening. 
Like REALLY happening!

He pulled back suddenly.  “No!”

She blinked up at him in
confusion.  “What?

“This can’t happen.”

“I think it just did…”

“No, you don’t understand I’m…I’m
in
quicksand!”

Her brow compressed in thought. 
“Q.U.I.C.K.S.A.N.D.?  What’s that?  Some kind of super-spy ring or something?” 
She pursed her lips, trying to guess the acronym.  “…Qualified…Underground….
Intelligence…”

“It’s not an
acronym
, it’s
my life!  You…I’m...I’m not the person you think I am.”

“You’re
exactly
who I know
you are.”

He shook his head.  “I’m…only here
for help on my plan, and then I’m
leaving
.”

“Huh.  Guess we’ll have to make the
most of the time we’ve got then, huh?”

“You don’t mean that.  Don’t you
see that I’m going to
leave. 
I can’t get involved with you, it would be
wrong.”

She started laughing.  “Yeah,
you’re nothing like the moral person I think you are.  Now what were you saying
about how you need to protect my honor?”

“…I can’t.  It will be too hard…”

She leaned closer to him again. 
“Are you trying to protect me, or yourself?”

He stared into her eyes, his voice
taking on a distracted quality.  “I…I really shouldn’t….”

“’
Shouldn’t
’ isn’t the same
as ‘
can’t
’…”

Behind them, the last piece of
security glass in the display they had broken into finally fell to the ground
with a crash.  There was a moment of silence…and then the alarms started.  She
swore as the noise echoed through the museum and red lights started flashing.