The Golden Age- pt. 4

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.  

The Golden Age - pt. 3

Silence. That's what defined this room the best. The foyer was impressive, for sure. Marble floors, white walls, a silver chandelier hanging in the middle of the room, black, leather couches symmetrically placed against either wall, and a giant marble desk with a polished granite top, which sat the secretary whose mind was filled with these thoughts. She glanced around the room to check if anything had changed. It hadn't. It never does. Believe it or not, an electronics company office was not the place to be. And she had so much hope. She rolled her eyes after that thought. Even her own mind was starting to annoy her. The only break in the monotony of the day was when Mr. Spencer stopped by around lunch time to make sure everything was going alright and to get the mail. Even though he was the CEO, he always made time for his employees. His excuse was that he should know to whom his money is disappearing to, but she knew that he was far more caring than that. He simply liked people, which is why he got into electronics in the first place: to help people and make their lives easier. His son, David, though still a teenager, was being beginning to show similar personality traits of his father. He would make a great CEO one day.

The golden front doors burst open, causing the secretary to jump. In walked two men, both in pinstripe suits. The taller one was in a blue one, and looked very dignified in his short, slicked hair and pencil moustache. He looked completely in his element. Must be an investor or something like that. The other, however, did not look at all comfortable. He walked stiffly, his face set into a permanent frown. The suit was not tailored to his muscular body and bulged and wrinkled everywhere, making him look even more uncomfortable. They walked straight up to the desk of the secretary and the taller man leaned slightly forward.

"Good afternoon, miss. I was wondering if it would be at all possible to see Mr. Zimmerman today?"

His accent was curious. His voice was soaked in a 1950's upper class air, with just a tinge of Canadian for good measure, and made him incredibly charming. The secretary blushed slightly. 

"Uh, let me just check his schedule here..." she quickly flipped through a pile of papers off to her side. "Yes, he is free at the moment. Does that work for you gentlemen?"

"That would be perfect, miss." The man smiled and tipped his head forward. "Thank you very much for your help. You have a wonderful day."

The two men turned and walked towards the large oak doors to their left, and she smiled as they left. That should keep her entertained for at least a few hours. 


Captain Incredible pushed open the heavy wood doors and revealed the large, posh office. At the opposite end facing them was a big redwood desk with a pudgy mad crouched over some papers. As the doors opened, he looked up and was struck with a confused look. 

"Hello? Do you have an appointment? I don't remember making any today...I'll have to talk to Susan..."

Zimmerman started to stand up from his work, but the Captain was closed the doors behind him. 

"Jacob Zimmerman, we have a business proposition for you. Sorry we did not phone ahead, but we knew you would be interested."

Zimmerman's confusion was somewhat replaced with a look of interest and he slowly sat back down. Pointing to the black leather chairs in front of his desk, he nodded to the two heroes in disguise. The Captain looked over at the Gladiator, who pulled a piece of paper out of his coat and laid it on the desk. 

"We have heard that you are suffering some nasty losses in personal involved in some...extra curricular business." He gave Zimmerman a quick wink, then continued. "We have a solution to that problem. They need training to be effective and we own the best training outfit in the Easter United States. Your excursions would become much more profitable."

Pointing to the paper on Zimmerman's desk, the Captain added, "This is our basic terms and conditions. Pretty run of the mill, no real surprises, but we do need you to sign on that pretty dotted line at the bottom there."

Zimmerman grabbed the paper and skimmed over it, his frown growing deeper with every passing line. After a minute of silence, he looked up. 

"Your business doesn't exist."

Doing his best to looked shocked, the Captain exclaimed, "That is a fairly rash accusation when two of its founders are in the same room as you!"

The man behind the desk set the paper down on the many piles covering the beautiful redwood top. "Your story and paper has so many holes that I won't even bother to tell you of all of them. I have better uses of my time, like asking what brought Captain Incredible and the Gladiator to my office."

The Captain sunk slightly in his chair. He was certain that his fabrication was strong enough to last at least a few minutes. He glanced at the Gladiator to his right. His expression had not changed the entire meeting, staring coldly ahead with his face set in stone. The Captain could not get too dejected, though. This is why they came here. He straightened in his chair and stared at Zimmerman, who was matching the Gladiators cold features. 

"I think you know very well why we're here. You're cheap labour gave you up when we apprehended them. Now we have to stop you."

Instead of anger, Zimmerman instead began to smile. It wasn't a comforting smile, either, but one that made you nervous of the next words that would exit his mouth. 

"I knew you would come. I even knew my stupid minions would give me up. I have bigger plans. Did you figure that out, there, Captain?" Zimmerman sneered at the two heroes in the chairs in front of him and rose from his own. "In fact, I was hoping you'd come." 

Suddenly, the Gladiator jumped out of his chair and punched Zimmerman right in the face. He stumbled backwards into the back wall, slightly stunned and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A streak of blood remained after Zimmerman dropped his hand, and soon a streak was dripping down the right side of his mouth into his goatee and onto his tailored suit. The smile immediately disappeared and his voice became a harsh growl.

"I know theres only two of you. You're old and washed up. You can't afford to have many enemies. But I'm about to make the most powerful one you've ever seen. I'll finally be rid of you, even if I have to be patient."

 "But why get rid of us? We keep peace and justice, which usually isn't a bad thing," asked the Captain,  who was beginning to be very worried. Zimmerman was brilliant, but also unpredictable and violent. Things were not going to be pretty. 

"Because," burst Zimmerman, now holding a small pen with the clicker on his thumb, "we businessmen need to be free to make money. You're stopping us! You're cancer to the American economy and must be eradicated for everyone to be happy again!" 

As the Gladiator took another step toward Zimmerman, he clicked his pen. One more punch crossed Zimmerman's face before a dull thud was heard from above, which shook the entire office, and was soon followed by people screaming and the sound of fire extinguishers. Captain Incredible turned wide eyed to the man sitting on the ground with blood in his facial hair and now a broken nose that was pouring blood. He was chuckling between spurting coughs. 

"What have you done?" the Captain asked slowly and accusingly. 

"You just killed the great Douglas Spencer." 

The Gladiator stomped over to the pathetic mess of a man on the floor, grabbed his collar, lifted him up to his face, and screamed, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

He dropped Zimmerman back onto the floor. He groaned as he hit, but continued to chuckle. "I set off a bomb I had planted there for weeks. Along with it was an exact replica of your helmet, Gladiator, along with a chunk of the Captain's cape. I even rigged security footage to show you running from his office. When his son finds out, he's gonna want revenge. And he has powers of which I have never seen. He doesn't even know he has them!" The low chuckle now was a full out laugh. "I've killed both of you!" 

Captain Incredible was beside himself. He had walked into the most perfectly formulated trap in his life. Ten years ago he would not have made this mistake. Now his image was ruined and he would have a formidable enemy in the future. He was infuriated and worried and confused and mortified. Drastic times, as the saying goes, call for similar measures. 

"James, grab him. He cannot be allowed contact with the boy."

The Gladiator hoisted Zimmerman over his shoulder, much to Zimmerman's discomfort. 

"What are you doing to me? I'm untouchable!"

The Captain bent down to his bloodied face, now pressed against the Gladiator's back. "In this country you are."

Horror filled every pore of his face. "No." He stuttered. "You wouldn't. You're supposed to be the good guys!"

The Captain turned and walked out of the room, ignoring Zimmerman's panicked pleas. The Gladiator was going to break out of the low window in the office and meet him at the van. He walked by the secretary, who smiled at him, but he failed to notice. He was deep in thoughts consumed in emotion. In America, Zimmerman was immune to all forms of justice. He had connections everywhere and he knew he was going to get off scot free. However, there were some places outside of the continent, say, for example, Siberia, that would love to take a prisoner and not ask any questions. That's what Zimmerman deserved, and he knew it, too. 

There was one more thought on the Captain's mind. He had walked into a trap without having the slightest hint. It was shameful. If he was younger, he would have known. Therefore, there was only one logical conclusion. He was almost 50, had children and grandchildren, and after this story got out, his reputation would be toast. It was time to disappear. It was time to retire. 

The Golden Age - pt. 2

It's not that Jim and Edwin weren't close; in fact, it was entirely the opposite. Ever since the team had disbanded, Ed had made a significant effort to stay in touch with his old friend. He didn't agree with everything he did, especially when he drug him along for his "one final go" back in '95, but Ed knew he was the only one that Jim really had anymore. Maybe it was the Canadian in him, but Ed felt sorry for the guy.

No, it wasn't talking to Jim that bothered Ed. It was the fact that the law needed them again. Ed shook his head to himself and sighed as he walked back into the house. Jim had a hard enough time getting out of fighting crime. The Gladiator had carried on beating up criminals for 2 years after Captain Incredible retired for good. That resulted in one of the worst ulcer's he'd ever seen. Now, Jim had one of those 7 day pill cartridges that he hated with a passion because it made him look old. The thought of Jim ranting about his pills again made Ed chuckle, then sigh again to himself. Should he even tell Jim? Would it be good for him?

Edwin opened up the door, stepped inside, and was greeted with the wonderful smell of bacon sizzling on the stove. He turned the corner and saw his wonderful wife of 37 years. She looked up just as she cracked an egg into the pan full of bacon and smiled. "How was the morning paper, Ed?"

"Oh, it was good. Same old stuff. I got a letter from the CIA, though."

She froze. The only sound that could be heard was the sizzling and popping of bacon and egg.

"What did it say?" She asked, without a trace of emotion on her face.

"Sara," he took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm needed again."

Sara sighed. "Well, you know what you gotta do." Though she didn't say it, Ed knew right away, that she was worried. In her head, he knew she was dying to say, "You're too old for that kind of stuff." He knew that she knew that this could be a disaster and she would never see him again. Almost 40 years of marriage helps with that.

Ed looked at Sara. She was staring at the eggs, lost in a plethora of thoughts. He walked up behind her, embraced her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Everything will be fine. Trust me." Even as he said the words, though, he didn't know how true they were. Memories of their last battle still flooded through his mind. It was then he knew he was too old for crime fighting. And now, 20 years later, he was going back at it.



Why didn't he think of that before?

Of course it would be Zimmerman. Every problem they had in the last few years was connected to him. He was a genius, once escaping so stealthily from prison that no one noticed his absence for 11 months. When they finally figured out he had escaped, the man had secured himself so perfectly that he was nearly untouchable by even the President. At one time he was a particle physicist, committed to discovering the secrets of the universe, but then he discovered there was more beneficial uses for profession than theoretical discovery. By understanding the smallest parts of the world, you could control the largest and most complex. His fellow scientists scoffed at this, though. Thought he had been working too hard and too long. When he didn't quit his research in this field, though, they banished his from the academy. That just made him incredibly bitter, but free to do whatever he wanted. He just needed the manpower.

However, Zimmerman was cheap. He never hired anyone more than street gangs to do his dirty work and he did so through intimidation rather than money. His biggest weakness, along with his cheapness, was his arrogance. He could outsmart any of his minions and most of his enemies without much effort, which led to a largely inflated head. Zimmerman was dangerous, but not unbeatable.

Though, maybe that's why he didn't think of Zimmerman. He could never let anyone have power over him. Yet these jobs...and the huge connections between them all...that was far bigger than Zimmerman was known for.

A car horn bared and Ed jerked the steering wheel to the right. He looked around quickly and suddenly realized that he had been zoned out for the last 10 minutes. The Captain looked over to his passenger in the golden armor. Jim's fingers were imbedded in the dashboard and his eyes stared out onto the road. Edwin smiled. "Oh, suck it up, you big baby. We didn't hit anything."

Jim glared at his friend in the blue cape, which was much more intimidating through his roman-style helmet. "Just drive" he growled.

The white van sped along the highway towards the Spencer Electronics headquarters, owned by Douglas Spencer and controlled by his son, David, where Harold Zimmerman was a researcher. Doug Spencer had revolutionized the electronics industry, making him a very rich man, but he could not have done it without the help of Zimmerman. Zimmerman never told Spencer of his deranged ideas of control, and Spencer, in need of a good engineer, didn't ask. He knew of his time in prison, but hey, people change, right? Now they were both millionaires. Spencer protected Zimmerman, and Zimmerman secretly ran his crime organization from this factory. He was a genius.

The two heroes drove in silence until the large building was in sight on the horizon. Then, the Gladiator broke the silence.

"What's the plan? Are we just gonna march in there and beat the snot out of people? Cause I can do that."

"No, we have to be a bit smarter than that. We're going to have to go undercover."

"I hate undercover."

Captain Incredible pulled the van over onto an off road entrance and then slipped into the back to remove his bright blue costume. He emerged moments later in a dark blue pinstripe suit that seemed to accentuate his pencil mustache. The Gladiator sniffed as if to say, "You're an idiot," but still slipped back into the depths of the van to change. He emerged with a similar suit in black. Edwin smiled at him as he slipped into the passenger seat, but only received a glare in return.

"You know I hate suits."

"You hate all undercover work."

Again, the Captain's comment received a glare from the Gladiator. He popped the van into drive, pulled out onto the busy highway and proceeded to drive towards to the large, silver building growing in the distance.