The hum of the engine as the van sped down the highway was
the only noise that broke the uncomfortable silence, though it wasn’t doing a
very good job of making it less uncomfortable. In the back laid an unconscious
Zimmerman, dried blood crusting on his neatly trimmed goatee. Though James had
insisted that a good blow to the head would keep him out until they got him on
the plane, Edmund disregarded his friend’s advice and administered a needle of
tranquilizers. However, this disagreement was not the cause of the awkward
silence in the van. Another unspoken one was.
“Would you care for some music?”
The Gladiator jumped at the harsh shattering of silence. The
Captain glanced over at him, pointing to the quiet radio. James rubbed his eyes
to remove the daze that had settled in them and snorted, “I don’t care. Do what
you want.” Captain Incredible reached over and flicked on the radio. Static
erupted through the speakers. The Captain fiddled with the dial for a few
seconds and after finding only more channels with static, flicked it off again,
returning the van into its uncomfortable silence once again. Trees, cars, and
signs flew by the window in a blur. The Gladiator sighed heavily, furrowed his
brow and turned to his friend in the driver seat.
“That could have happened to the best of them. It’s not your
fault.”
The Captain shook his head slowly, closing his eyes briefly
to emphasize his disappointment in himself. “Face it, James. We’re over the
hill.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we…I can’t keep doing this anymore,” he replied,
hesitating and stumbling over his words. “I almost fell into a trap that ten
years ago…I’ve got kids, James. And Sara! How am I going to help…I just…”
“Ya? What about me, Ed? What am I gonna do without this?
I’ve got no dame back at home to return to, no brats to pamper, not even a
friggen dog. I have you, Ed. You’n this. That’s it.” James was glaring at the
Captain, which was made that much more intimidating through the golden helmet
for his costume. Ed glanced over at the fuming man beside him, which only
increased his guilt. All he could muster to say was, “I can’t. Not anymore.”
Neither one said anything for a few moments. The silence was
spoiled a soft moan from the back of the van, followed by a cough. James
whipped his head around at the noise, in case his particular set of skills was
needed to return their captive to his previous state. When the need did not
arise, the Gladiator turned back around and stared out the window, watching the
blurs of colour flash past.
“The age of the super hero has ended, James,” comforted Ed.
James continued to stare out the window at the mesmerizing colours and lines.
“Every kid I’ve known who has discovered they had powers has enlisted in the
army, or police force, or become a doctor or fireman. They want to help people,
but the bright spandex just isn’t that popular anymore.”
“Seriously?” retorted James. “It’s the 90’s. Bright is all
you can buy.”
“We just don’t stick out anymore.”
James snickered at Ed’s joke. It was true. To dawn a costume
and fight crime was passé. Heck, when they started in 1975, crime fighting was
on its way out. Though they managed to recruit a few other heros in the 80’s,
all of them were gone now, too. Costumed villains were replaced with organized
crime rings and corrupt leaders that were difficult to secretly defeat. To
fight this crime, it was better to not stand out, but rather to fight it from
the inside. Everything was becoming more secretive. It was bound to effect
heroes eventually.
“So this is it, huh.” James said finally.
“I believe so.”
“Last job.”
“Yeah.”
James paused. “At least we got to send someone to Serbia. I’ve
been waiting a long time to use these connections.”
Ed smiled and blinked forcefully to remove the tiredness
that had built up from the long drive. It was time to go home. For good.
