It was a pleasant day for a walk, but life in King's Row is seldom pleasant for long, no matter the weather. A half-hour's walk was all it took to remind Frank of the realities of The Row. The cry for help came from an alley on his left as he was idly peering in the window of a local pawn shop. Frank looked up and down the street, and even up into the sky, for any sign of a policeman or a Hero. "Just my luck.", he thought,sourly. "I pick the one block in this 'burb that isn't being patrolled by some freshman Hero trying to make a name for himself. Where's a 'cape' when you need one?" Steeling his nerve and cursing his stupidity, Frank edged up to the corner of the alley, looked around and stepped into full view.
"Please, just take my wallet and go!", the woman pleaded. She was young; by appearance, barely out of high school. She had that frightened mouse look, the one that Frank had seen far too often on single young women living in the Row. The kid rifling through her purse was about 20 and clearly wearing Hellion colors. He looked up in surprise that turned to menace as Frank stepped into view. Waving his knife in Frank's direction, the kid said "Whattsamatta, Gramps? Maybe you should just keep on walking."
Summoning up his best Clint Eastwood impression, Frank leaned casually against the nearby brick wall and said nothing. Instead, he carelessly shook out a Super, popped a match alight with his fingernail, and slowly lit the cigarette; never taking his eyes from the Hellion. He exhaled, and waited, gazing silently at the gangster.
Whatever the kid had expected when an old dude in a space suit showed up, it wasn't this. The seconds stretched out and the tension grew palpably thicker. There was a challenge there more important than the pocket change in the purse. He tossed it aside and stepped towards Frank.
That was all the opening the girl needed. She had the purse and keys and was through the back door of the apartment house in barely an eye-blink. Frank felt a wave of relief. "That problem's solved.", he thought. "Now, what about this one?"
The kid pointed at Frank meaningfully with the knife. "You know what, Pops? You coulda just kept on going. Now you're in for a world of hurt." Running was out of the question. The kid was thirty years younger and he meant what he said. The odds of getting out this with a whole skin were looking smaller by the second. Without giving himself time for second thoughts, Frank flicked the cigarette away, stepped into the kid's "personal space" and looked him square in the eye. "Here's what I know, "Son". You're a Hellion alone on Skulls turf. You're a green-[censored] recruit or you'd know better. If you had any of the special powers your pet demon or whatever it is gives your bosses, you'd have used 'em. Get lost or wake up in the Zig'. Your choice."
A new voice interrupted the moment, surprising both Frank and the Hellion. "I recommend taking Captain Blastoff's advice." They turned in unison to find a young man standing there with an open cell phone. "The police are on their way here right now."
Sure enough, sirens could be heard in the distance. That was enough for the gangster. He poked his finger at Frank's chest and said "You've messed with the Hellions, Pops. You haven't heard the end of this." An instant later he was over the fence and vanished into the maze of back-alleys that make up King's Row.
"You okay?" the newcomer asked. Frank nodded and sagged against the brick of the apartment house in relief. His hands were shaking and he badly wanted a cigarette. The Kid waited in respectful silence as he smoked and both of them turned their heads up the street to watch the police cars come racing towards them.
When the cars sped past and disappeared in the distance, Frank looked over at his new acquaintance in amazement. "You didn't actually call the police, did you?" The boy looked smug. "If I had called, they couldn't have arrived in time to do anything. Sirens are pretty common around here. I just took advantage of one that you and that other guy hadn't noticed yet." Frank shook his head in wonder. "I guess it's a day for bluffs."
They laughed together and Frank realized suddenly how long it had been since he'd shared a good laugh with another person. The Kid extended his hand. "Jason Spence, pleased to meet you." Frank shook his hand. "Frank Merrill." Jason's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"THE Captain Blastoff? That's not a rental costume?" "The One and Only." Frank replied dryly. He looked at his watch. "I've got a birthday party in High Park this afternoon. If you're heading that direction, why don't you walk with me and tell me how you know who I am?"
"Sure!" said Jason, and they fell into step together. Frank glanced up at the apartments as they passed, but saw no sign of the girl. He shrugged and put her out of his mind. In the Row, sticking your neck out is asking for trouble, even if it's to thank a rescuer.
Frank became aware that Jason was talking about his childhood. "...the lunchbox, the plastic model kit. I had a Rocket Ranger decoder wheel that had belonged to my father. I even wrote a report about the show when I was in middle school. Ha ha!" Jason smiled, then he looked at Frank and asked "How is it that you're performing at birthday parties? I would have thought that you'd have made a lot of money from Captain Blastoff over the years."
Frank snorted derisively. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? The fact is that I was new to the business and my agent was too. It was different back then anyway. Actors didn't get royalties and percentages. I was just a guy wearing a space suit every Saturday, making kids laugh and cheer. The "intellectual property" belonged to the studio."
He paused while they evaded a smashed and defiled city info terminal. Frank grimaced at the sight of it. "It wasn't always like this around here, you know. There was a time when this area was considered the bright spot of the city. Anything you needed was only a few blocks from home, including your job. Everyone wanted to live here." He shook his head sadly and returned to his story.
"I never got a cent from the Captain Blastoff toys. When the show ended, they gave me the uniform as a souvenier and that was that." Jason nodded sympathetically. A bitter look crossed Frank's face and he continued, "A few years ago, the bean counters at the studio even had the gall to try and take back the uniform, to sell to a TV History museum. I finally had to go to court and sue the studio for the right to make public appearances as Captain Blastoff. The court agreed that they owned the monetary rights but I created the character. That was something the suits at the studio couldn't take from me."
Jason had halted at the corner of Elm and High Street. "This is where I turn off.", he said. Just then a flash of light zoomed overhead, followed by a trail of sparkles that dissipated like snowflakes in the wind of the object's passage. In any other city, onlookers would be pointing and frantically waving their cell phone cameras. The few pedestrians in this part of town barely glanced up.
Frank lit a Super and watched with the jaded eye of a life-long resident of Paragon City. "Who do you suppose that is?", he asked, as the ball of light zoomed straight up a few blocks away, then hit the sidewalk. The resulting fireworks easily rivaled the Paragon Rotary's Independence Day show. Cheers and applause could be heard, even from six blocks away. Jason grinned. "That's Moonbeam! She always makes a grand entrance!"
"No wonder." Frank made no attempt to hide the cynicism as he waved at the television vans parked where the "fireworks" had just played out. "You'd never see The Statesman or Invisible Falcon or Dark Watcher show-boating like that in the old days." "You'd never see the Falcon at all.", Jason pointed out, earning him a annoyed look from Frank. He laughed and said "Anyway, it's in a good cause." He pointed at a flyer stapled to a nearby phone pole. "The Midnight Rangers are making an appearance at the Thompson Community Center to promote the new after school program. If just a few of those TV viewers are inspired to get involved, we'll have made a difference."
Frank raised an eyebrow at the "We". "You work at the community center?" For just a second, Jason looked cryptic. The smile returned and he shrugged. "I volunteer there when my schedule allows it. I'm helping out with the after school program."
"Well, you're doing something to help the world then. More than I ever did." Frank sighed and contemplated the Super that had appeared in his hand without his really noticing. "Fifty years and nothing to show for it but an old space suit and a few memories." He nodded towards the distant community center. "Not much of a legacy compared to something like that." Fifty years suddenly felt like a heavy, heavy weight.
Jason was watching him with a troubled expression. He started to speak, when Frank said, "Listen, Kid, I gotta get off to my own 'public appearance'. I wouldn't want to disappoint the audience." Jason glanced at his watch. "I'm actually a little late myself. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mister Merrill." Jason paused. "If you ever want to talk..."
Frank cut him off. "Sure, Kid, I know where to look for you. Thanks for the chat." He clapped Jason on the shoulder. "Catch you in the funny papers." Halfway down the block, he turned and called out "Give my regards to Moonbeam." Jason laughed and waved as he vanished around the corner of Elm street. A moment later, faint cheers from the direction of the community center signaled the arrival of another Midnight Ranger. Frank took a long drag and, steeling himself for an afternoon of birthday cake and unruly kids, set off towards High Park.
A moment later, a figure in Hellion colors stepped out of an alley and slunk to a nearby public phone. A minute of conversation ensued. It ended when the gangster ripped the handset off of the phone and threw it into the alley. Something crashed and he grunted in satisfaction. "I told you, Pops",he said to the figure vanishing in the distance. "Nobody messes with the Hellions." He narrowed his eyes and vanished back into the shadows to wait for his friends.
High Park isn't actually a park at all. At one point in the city's history, the neighborhood had been the toast of the town. Dozens of architects had vied for the honor of designing what everyone assumed would be the focal point of Society life for decades to come. The winning design promised more than just a single park. It promised multiple parks, offering Nature and recreation in every direction. Most apartments faced onto at least one park. The most luxurious penthouses faced natural beauty on all sides, not to mention their own rooftop gardens.
If the Twenty-First Century had mostly passed by King's Row, the early Twentieth, at least, still remembers. Despite depression, recession, and the best efforts of a century of city councils to raid or redirect them, a few "old money" parks endowments have survived. Those endowments are much smaller nowadays thanks to inflation and attrition, but the residents of High Park still enjoy the presence of a few irregularly maintained green areas. Most other such spaces in the Row were paved over or industrialized decades ago.The Society matron whose trust fund had kept the grass cut and the trees watered all those long years would be surprised but perhaps not displeased to see her park used by a spaceman and a crowd of working-class children instead of the well-heeled upper-crust it had been envisioned for.
Frank got his first inklings that this would be an unusual afternoon as soon as he arrived at the party address. He saw a table setup at one end of the grass surrounded by children who were busily cutting, and taping various things together. He was coming up behind the Birthday Mom, so he got within thirty yards before a girl of 7-8 looked up and screamed "Captain Blastoff! Captain Blastoff is here!" Before he knew it, he was knee deep in children running around him and yelling in excitement.
The girl that had spotted him grabbed his hand and jumped up and down. He smiled and asked "So, are you the Birthday Kid?" The youngster frowned at this and Frank suddenly realized how impersonal it sounded. "My name is 'Lisbeth. I'm not a birthday kid, I'm a Rocket Ranger! See?" With that she began zooming around him and he saw with a combination of amazement and amusement that the kids had been building home-made rocket packs out of cardboard tubes, paper cups, and all sorts of streamers and decorative bits. This wasn't the sort of Birthday Mom who bought a cake at the store and retired to the kitchen with her friends as soon as entertainment arrived.
Three teens, two boys and a girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen, walked up and smirked. One of the boys gave Lisbeth a "noogie". When she cried "MOOOOMMMMM!", all three teens snickered. "You KNOW he's not real, don't you Lizzie? Captain Blastoff is just an actor in a spacesuit!" "He is NOT!", shouted Lisbeth. "Twerpo!" "Stinky McStinkface!"
An exasperated voice broke in. "Michael! How many times must I tell you not to tease your sister?" Michael appeared anything but contrite. "If you won't be part of the party, at least be of some use and hang up these game boards on the tree." Michael noogied Lisbeth once more for good measure, said "Happy Birthday, Twerp!" and she stuck her toungue out at him. He picked up the games to hang as his mother had instructed, then the teens went off to amuse themselves on the other side of the park.
Birthday Mom clapped for attention. "Alright, kids, let's give Captain Blastoff some room to setup while you finish your rocket packs." The kids obediently ran back to the table or zoomed out around the nearby tree and grass. Mom brushed her hair back and introduced herself. "Marigold Madison. If you call me anything but Mary, I'll have to sic Doctor Mastermind on you." This was so far out of Frank's experience that he couldn't think of anything to do but bow deeply and say "Captain Blastoff, at your service!" She grinned and asked "Do you have a name when you're not Captain Blastoff?" Her good humor was infectious, and Frank found himself winking and whispering conspiratorially, "In civilian life, I'm Frank Merrill, but don't tell anyone! It's my SECRET identity!".
Mary zipped her lips. "Mum's the word!" After a glance at her watch, she said "We'd best get you started. I'm sure you have more on your plate today than a birthday party." Normally, Frank would have grasped at any excuse to wrap things up as quickly as possible but today was starting to feel unusually good. He dropped his satchel at the head of the table, admiring the home-made birthday cake. Two round cakes had been cut and pieced into a fair approximation of Ranger 1, the Ranger Rocketship. "Happy Birthday Lizzie" had been piped in yellow over the chocolate frosting. He watched as Mary busied herself rounding up the children and organizing them. Frank guessed her to be 42 or so. The Row had exacted the toll from her that it exacts from all of its residents, but if the years had dimmed her beauty, they had also exposed a core of inner strength and, to Frank's jaded eyes, a light that he hadn't seen in a very long time. The Row may have bent Mary Madison, but it clearly hadn't broken her.
For the first time in a long time, Frank was enjoying being "the entertainment". Most of the kids had watched re-runs on WSPR and not only wanted to play Space Ranger but actually requested songs from the show and the Ranger Oath. Typically, he'd do his schtick and leave. Today, he found himself helping with the party games and acting out his adventures to the cheers of an enthusiastic audience. Frank had nearly forgotten what it was like to be appreciated as Captain Blastoff. Even the heckling from the older kids dropped off after a short time. The youngsters were having a lot of fun and, with nothing else to do, the teens became interested in spite of themselves.
The party was notable in other respects. During "Rocket Race", Frank happened to glance up and notice a gargoyle on a cornice that some teenager had put a hat and scarf on for a laugh. When he looked up again later the cornice was empty and he realized that none of the cornices held a "gargoyle". On Lisbeth's turn to "pin the rocket to the moon", the tree branch obligingly drooped just enough to give Lisbeth a bullseye. During Planet Tag, Michael was outrunning Lisbeth and laughing at her, when he suddenly BOUNCED back onto his rear. Lisbeth gleefully tagged him and Michael looked accusingly at his friend Becka. The odd thing was that the girlish giggling seemed to Frank to be coming from the OTHER side of Michael's pratfall.
Towards the end, Frank acted out one of his battles with Doctor Mastermind, and just as he faced the Goonbots, three party balloons tied to the table floated into the air. As Frank pretended to "pew-pew" with his Gamma Goggles, each balloon burst with a "BANG!" and a flash of sparks! "Wow, I need to find out where she gets her balloons!", he thought. The whole table was cheering, though Mary had the look of someone trying to figure out an exceptionally clever magic trick. Just about when Frank was starting to wonder why the balloons had popped at all, a voice dripping with hate cut across the park.
"You're pretty good with balloons, old man. Let's see how you are against real 'bad guys'."
Frank clicked up his Gamma Goggles and turned around. His worst fears weren't realized; they were exceeded. A group of six Hellions had jumped the fence and were walking towards him. They were led by the kid he'd faced off with earlier and an older gangster with what Frank hoped was a mask. He didn't want to contemplate the implications if that was really the guy's face.
"Stay calm." a voice in the back of his brain said. "I need to get away from the kids!", he thought. The inner voice agreed and he edged forward despite the blood in his veins having seemingly turned to icewater.
Demon Mask snorted in contempt. "This is what you called us out here for? A has-been actor?" Frank managed two more steps forward and offered a silent prayer to whatever saint protects fools and children. Demon Mask had grabbed the kid by the lapel while his "friends" sneered. The Kid babbled, "I'm telling you, Agnar, he's a Hero. No way he'd have been that stupid if he wasn't!"
Frank turned his head back to Mary and silently mouthed "Get out of here!". She didn't need any more encouragement. She was already herding the children towards the nearest park gate, as other residents of the apartments, some with phones in hand, began pouring out to witness the disturbance. Frank's inner voice asked in exasperation, "Why don't people stay inside?", when Lisbeth broke from the pack. She ran straight towards the Hellions. Frank turned in shock as Mary screamed "ELIZABETH!!" and Michael ran after her shouting "Lizzie! Come back!"
To Frank, it almost seemed to be happening in slow motion. "You leave Captain Blastoff alone!", Lisbeth shouted. The Hellions turned and Michael froze in fear with his arms around Lisbeth. Demon Mask laughed, then pointed his hands at the children. A fiery nimbus formed around them and lance outwards. Frank could never say, later, whether it was stupidity, years of conditioning, or simply animal instinct. He leaped in front of the children, and his last thought before the Hellfire engulfed them was "I guess I'll never get to try that new donut shop in Faultline..."
Three seconds later, as he realized he was still alive, he heard Lisbeth and the Kid simultaneously say, "I told you he was real!"
Frank opened his eyes and gaped. He and the children were encased in what looked like a giant soap bubble. The ground was scorched and blackened for three feet in every direction, but the grass under their feet was unmarred. Michael touched the bubble and looked at Frank in awe. "A real Gravitronic Shield!", he whispered. Any trace of disbelief had vanished.
Frank's head swam, but he knew he had to get the kids to safety. He stood, faced the Hellions, and hoped he looked a lot steadier than he felt. "Michael,", he said without turning around. "take Lizzie to your mother and go indoors." There was no argument. Michael took Lisbeth's hand and they ran to the park gate, with the bubble obligingly going with them. Frank felt better for that, but he also felt extremely vulnerable as it bounced away.
Demon Mask grinned evilly. "I guess my Old Man was wrong when he told me you was just a guy in a suit.", he said. "Let's see how tough you really are." Frank felt a whoosh, as if a cold breeze had blown over him, and he suddenly felt very, very heavy. His feet were like concrete blocks. His arms took an effort to lift. He feared the Hellion leader had done something supernatural to him, but Demon Mask didn't seem to be paying much attention. He was signaling forward two of his 'sluggers', each armed with a baseball bat, and he appeared to be relishing the coming play with all the anticipation of a cat with a mouse trapped in a corner.
"It's a day for bluffs.", Frank thought. He raised his hand with an effort and pointed at the leader. "I'll give you the same chance I gave your buddy this morning. Go now, and you'll leave here with a whole skin!"
Demon Mask spat contemptuously. "Split his skull.", he ordered his minions.
The gangsters grinned as they moved in and Frank helplessly raised his arms up to ward off the blows. He cried out as one bat struck his midriff and the other smashed down upon his left arm. "CRACK!!!!" The bat struck his arm and exploded into splinters. "SPRONG!" The other bat rebounded, causing the gangster holding it to yell in pain and drop it.
Frank lowered his arms in wonder, having felt the impact but no pain other than a mild sting. "I must look as surprised as he does", he thought. "Am I as heavy as I feel?" He pushed on the Hellion in front of him and the gangster staggered back. Frank grinned, then stepped ponderously forward and, putting his entire upper body into the effort, he grabbed the two sluggers and shoved as hard as he could.
The results couldn't have been better if he really HAD turned to granite. The thugs flew thirty feet through the air and landed in a heap at the feet of the leader. Cheers broke out from beyond the fence and the gang boss spat out "You worthless worms can't handle a single Hero? Crush him!"
The breeze swooshed over Frank again, warm this time. The ponderous weight vanished, leaving Frank feeling light as a feather. The Hellions piled in swinging. Frank, whose last real fight had been in middle school, dodged instinctively and stepped sideways. The world blurred. "ZIP!" Frank was standing twenty feet away. "No fair, he's a speeder!" A Hellion jumped at him, and Frank side-stepped again. "ZIP!" A blur, and he was now near the fence. The crowd outside the park fence was bigger now, and chanting "Captain Blastoff! Captain Blastoff!" Despite his instructions, Michael and a bunch of teens were hanging off the wrought-iron fence, shouting. Frank waved at Michael and grinned. "Who's showboating now?" his inner voice asked, sardonically.
"ENOUGH!" Demon Mask extended his hands, grimaced and everything in a thirty foot radius burst into flame! Frank jumped straight into the air, his boots smoking. When he kept going instead of landing, his initial reaction was to shrug it off. "The day's already weird enough. What's one more surprise?" He tried to twist in the air and direct himself over the heads of the Hellions. It was surprisingly easy and he looked back.
Frank was horrified to see that the blast had come within a few feet of Michael and his friends! The teens had backed off some, but the situation was quickly becoming unmanageable. Worse, as he alighted he could clearly see pistols in the belts of most of the gangsters. Police sirens were approaching from somewhere in the distance, but Demon Face and his crew didn't look to be very concerned about it. If this lasted much longer, someone would end up badly hurt.
"I need to get these creeps away from the crowd.", He thought. "That big rock at the other end of the park looks good.", his inner voice agreed. Frank shouted "Hey! Fang Face! Come get some!", and made a gesture that left no doubt as to its meaning. He leaped towards the far end of the park as a ball of fire smashed into the ground, and the Hellions pelted after him.
As he fell, Frank suddenly felt his full weight return. The bone-jarring impact of his landing on the giant rock left no doubt about performing more aerial gymnastics. He stood with aching knees as the Hellions surrounded the boulder in a wide circle. The sirens were close now, but not close enough to help. He looked to the sky but no guardian angels were to be seen.
The leader of the gang snapped his fingers and the circle began to tighten. "I'll have your heart on a plate, Old Man." Frank swallowed hard. *BAMF* The Hellions paused and looked around. *BAMF* "What's wrong with you worms?", screamed Demon Mask, waving a wicked looking knife. "I want him laid out here, NOW!" *BAMF* *BAMF* When nothing else happened, the gangsters edged closer, the fear of their boss overcoming their uncertainty about whatever tricks Captain Blastoff had up his sleeve.
For Frank's part, he was as mystified as they were. The strange sounds had rung out all around him on the boulder. Whatever it was, a comforting sense of presence and a nearly imperceptible shimmer in the air made him suddenly sure that Heaven had decided to send a guardian angel after all. He laughed, and the gangsters jumped nervously.
Frank clicked his Gamma Goggles into place and pointed at the gang leader. "Evil never learns! No Goonbots can defeat the courage of a true-hearted Ranger!"
As if on cue, wholesale chaos erupted.
Three ghostly figures materialized in front of Fang Face and started blasting him. The demon-faced Hellion hit back with flaming fists as the gang members frantically drew guns and implements of destruction. Frank heard Michael shout "Look! The Ghost Rangers of Planet Epsilon!", then the world was suddenly shrouded by a wall of pea-soup fog. "Duck, Sugar!", said the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard. Frank hit the deck, thinking,crazily, "Windchimes! It sounds like windchimes in the moonlight!"
The fog erupted with flashes of starlight and explosions of all kinds. "Bam!" "POW!" "ZAP!" Hellions screamed in fright and were silenced. "ZING!" "ZOWIE!" The mists litup orange by an explosion from the gang boss, then turned unearthly green as Frank covered his ears. "FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!" screamed the mists followed by the satisfying "THUMP" of a body hitting tree branches. With a final "BRRRRRRRNG", Frank once again heard the *BAMF* sounds, off in the distance this time. He climbed to his feet and the mists dissolved.
Frank looked around, flabbergasted, as the crowd at the other end of the park erupted into cheers. All of the Hellion footsoldiers were scattered around the rock, KO'd. The leader was hanging from a nearby tree and moaning.The kids on the fence were yelling excitedly, and Lisbeth was hanging on her brother's arm, jumping up and down and screaming with joy. "Did you see? Did you see it, Michael? He zapped them all with his Gamma Goggles! Captain Blastoff saved the day!" Frank rubbed his eyes in wonder, and climbed down to the ground as two patrol cars and a van skidded to a stop nearby. Two officers walked up to Frank, while the others inspected the gangsters and began trussing them up.
"Looks like we weren't needed after all. Good work, uh..." The older officer squinted at Frank's uniform. "Captain Blastoff", Frank said helpfully. "Right, excellent.", the older officer said as he pulled out a report pad. "I'll need to see your license."
"Uh, okay." Frank pulled out his wallet and handed a card to the policeman. The younger officer looked around and whistled. "I always thought Captain Blastoff was just an actor." "I AM just an actor.", Frank said. The policeman raised an eyebrow and jerked a thumb towards the semi-conscious Hellions being loaded into the van. "What's that? Special effects?"
Before Frank could reply, the older officer made a disgusted noise and looked up from his report with the long-suffering air of the over-worked and under-appreciated public servant. He handed the card back to Frank, saying "This is a DRIVER'S license, Mr. Merrill." Frank looked at the license, then at the policeman in genuine befuddlement. "What other kind.. of.. oh....!"
A dozen teens of various ages, Michael included, came running up as the officer closed his eyes in exasperation, put his fingers on his temple, and said "Please tell me that your license is just expired; that you haven't been engaging in unlicensed Heroics." The younger policeman was pointedly looking at a passing cloud, as if a license might float by and be missed if no-one was watching. Frank felt sure he was doing his best to hold back a smile.
Frank stammered; "Well, uh, you see, it's like this..." he began, but the policeman wearily cut him off. "Licensed Heroes are deputies. Unlicensed Heroes are vigiliantes. Vigilantes are criminals. Are you a criminal, Mister Merrill?" Frank gulped. The crowd of teens started murmuring angrily, and two of them ran back to their parents. A young man, 19 or 20 at a guess and looking much like a gangster himself in leather coat and pants, said "Why you hasslin' Cap'n Blastoff? He kicked those guys outta our home turf, and kept 'em from hurtin' our little brothers and sisters."
The officer looked the boy directly in the eye. It was clear that he was in no mood for an argument with someone he considered to be as good as a gangster already. "It's my job to enforce the law, Bobby, even if I don't like it. The law applies to everyone, especially Heroes."
"He's right." Frank said, suddenly. He looked at Bobby, then Michael and the younger children and parents who were walking up with stern expressions to see what was happening. "A Ranger obeys the law, first and foremost. Officer, uh..." "Marconi", the policeman offered. "Thanks. Officer Marconi is just doing his duty."
The younger policeman was openly snickering by this point. Officer Marconi fixed him with a glare. "You got something to say, Pete?" The younger policeman smiled and said, "Listen, Tony. It's Captain Blastoff! You can't arrest Captain Blastoff! What would your Tony Junior say?" Officer Marconi looked suddenly thoughtful. Officer "Pete" continued; "Besides, I recognize most of these guys. I'm positive they're on the surveillance video of those gang-bangers that were tearing up Atlas Park during that bank heist last week. I know we can make that stick even if there's a technicality or two with this." He raised an eyebrow and held his hands out questioningly. "Whaddya say? Heck, if the D.A.'a Office hassles you, I'll personally buy your beer for the next month."
Officer Marconi pursed his lips, and frowned. "Alright," he finally said and looked pointedly at the younger man. "But you're buying ball game tickets too!" Pete smiled. "You're on!", he said. Officer Marconi shook his head resignedly and folded up his citation book. He walked over to Frank and sternly told him "No more unlicensed Heroics, understand? Next time we're gonna run you in." Frank heaved a sigh of relief. "I promise, officer. I'm retired. Ranger's Honor!"
The gathered residents cheered as the officers walked back to the patrol cars. Frank heard Pete say "I always knew you were a softie, Tony." Marconi rolled his eyes and said "Eh, it'd just be more paperwork I gotta do." Frank smiled in spite of himself.
A short time later, after receiving the congratulations and gratitude of the local apartment dwellers, Frank sat down on the rock and collected his thoughts. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was worth something and it was a feeling he savored. The people here seemed happier and more hopeful, too, somehow. Frank shook his head. It was all too much.
Lisbeth and her friends were zooming around the park again, and Lisbeth "rocketed" up to Frank and threw her arms around as much of him as she could reach. "Thanks, Captain Blastoff! You saved my party!"
Frank laughed out loud and touseled her hair. "You're welcome, Lizzie." She suddenly looked stern. "You're not leaving yet are you? We haven't had cake and ice cream yet!" Frank smiled and said, "I think I can stay that long." Lisbeth grinned and then held out a purple envelope.
"What's this?", Frank asked. The envelope had the words "Happy Birthday Captain Blastoff" written on it. "The boy in the funny hat told me to give it to you. He said it's secret Rocket Ranger bizness!" Frank turned the envelope over in his hands and looked around. The kid in the leather coat was lounging nearby, but there was no sign of a 'funny hat' anywhere. Lisbeth stood on her tip-toes trying to see into the envelope. "Is it a Secret?", she asked, hopefully.
Frank opened the envelope and removed two sheets of paper. The full moon symbol of the Midnight Rangers was printed at the top, and the pages were filled with neat, precisely spaced hand-writing.
"Dear, Mr. Merrill;
I hope our little prank didn't upset you. Group battles cause a lot of collateral damage that would have endangered the children, and we all agreed that the best birthday gift we could give would be for you to experience being a real Hero for a day. You acquitted yourself admirably. I know we'd all be proud to stand beside you and call you a fellow Hero.
When we spoke this afternoon, you compared your legacy to those of Breakneck and Justin Sinclair. I wanted you to know that legacies aren't built up just of brick and mortar. They're also built of flesh and blood and love and imagination.
I grew up in a rough part of town. My mom worked two jobs to keep us going, and I spent my afternoons alone most of the time. I didn't mind, though. She was doing the best she could, and I had my best friends to keep me company - Captain Blastoff, and the Rocket Rangers. Captain Blastoff showed me how to help others; to be courageous, to be true and most of all to never give up or give in. When my friends were hanging out and getting into trouble, I was flying through space and having adventures against the Goonbots and keeping the universe safe for the people who couldn't protect themselves.
The day I discovered my own special abilities, I could have tried using them for profit or power or to get revenge on the bullies who'd pushed me around at one time or another. I could have joined a gang and served my own selfish self-interest. I didn't need to do any of those things. I already had a mentor who had taught me that power breeds responsibility, and that the respect of others is worth more than any amount of money.
I wasn't the only one. Each of us has his or her own story, like mine. You may not have a building named after you, but your legacy lives, just the same. We don't call ourselves the Midnight Rangers because we love to range around at midnight.
Your friend,
J.S."
Frank read the letter twice and folded it up, feeling like the emotions welling up in his chest would burst out for everyone to see. Someone cried out,"Hey, look at that!" and he stood up and looked.
They were there, on the roof of the little brownstone, all of them. Kid Mystic, RadGrrrl, Storm Front, and Moonbeam; each with a Rocket Ranger Badge of Honor. They clicked their heels together as he looked up and saluted him with the Rocket Ranger Secret Salute. With his heart swelling, Captain Blastoff saluted his Rangers, and whispered "Thank you." Each of them smiled and waved, then leapt, sped or vanished into the distance. Moonbeam was the last to go. Grinning mischievously, she blew a kiss that Frank swore he felt hit his cheek, and then piroueted into the sky, vanishing into the distance on a trail of shooting stars. They were his Legacy to a city in pain; a city of strife; a city in need of Heroes.
As new cheers rang out from the kids in the park, Frank heard Lisbeth anxiously ask "Are you sad, Captain Blastoff?" He wiped his eyes. "No, Lizzie, I'm happy. It's... It's just something in my eye." He looked down and said "Why don't you round up your friends and we'll see about that cake and ice cream?" "Yay!!!", Lisbeth shouted as she ran off.
Bobby, the kid in the leather jacket, was lounging nearby. After a moment of indecision, Frank walked over and said "Thanks for sticking up for me, earlier."
Bobby shrugged. "Some of these cops like to throw their weight around a bit too much for my tastes." He looked at Frank appraisingly. "Spare a smoke"?
Frank realized with surprise that he hadn't actually felt the need for one himself. He offered a Super to Bobby, and lit it. Bobby took a long drag, then turned away from Frank to lean on the fence and look at the crowd in the park. Someone had brought out a charcoal grill. A young man with a guitar was strumming for his friends. Michael and his bunch had cleaned up the party mess and were now going around the park with a plastic bag, picking up litter.
"I suppose you'll be gone, after the party." he said without turning. Frank rested his hands on the wrought-iron. "I suppose so. I mean, I live over in Galaxy City." Bobby made no comment. Instead, he waved the cigarette towards the party table. "That old guy, helping Lizzie's mom with the cake. That's Mr. Stewart. Ordinarily, if he says three words to you, it's 'Get outta my way.'" He gestured towards a woman helping one of the children repair his 'rocket pack'. "That's Old Lady Gumtree. She hardly ever comes out of her apartment. She thinks I'm a punk, but I do her grocery shopping twice a month anyway. She bakes me cookies at Christmas."
Frank lit a Super of his own, leaned back against the fence, and waited. Bobby blew a cloud of smoke "All those people are feeling good today, 'cause somebody stood up for 'em. They feel human again.", he said. Frank nodded. "I think I know what you mean."
"When I was a kid, Lisbeth's mom dated my dad for a while. It didn't work out, but she still looked out for me whenever she could; even when she got married and got kids of her own." He was silent for a moment. "My dad and Michael's dad were working in Baumton when the invasion happened." "I'm sorry," Frank said sympathetically. Bobby shrugged. "Everybody lost somebody. I'm not special."
"I was old enough that I just went on living on my own. I fell in with a rough crowd and got into trouble constantly. A lot of people wrote me off as a lost cause, but Mary never judged me. She just listened when I needed to talk, and talked when I needed to listen, even when I thought I didn't want to."
He held the cigarette up and watched it burn down. "I'm about the farthest thing from an angel. It's thanks to her that I never ended up in the Zig or dead of a 'Dyne overdose someplace." He looked over at Frank. "Most of the people here think me and my friends are punks, and they're mostly right. They don't realize that by holding this little two-block bit of turf and keeping out the Skulls and the 'Dyne dealers, we're protecting kids like Michael and Lisbeth from a lot worse than us. They wouldn't thank me if they knew and I don't do it for thanks. I do it because, when I needed it, someone made me feel like I was worth somethin'."
Bobby eyed Frank. "Tomorrow all these people will be back in their little worlds again, just trying to survive. Is anybody going to rescue 'em tomorrow?" Frank started to say , "Bobby, I'm not really a Superhero..." but Bobby waved him off. "These people don't need Superheroes. What they need is for someone to once in a while remind them that they're worth caring about."
Frank looked out over the park. The party seemed to have expanded to include all of the kids on the block. Mary looked up from talking to one of her neighbors. She waved at Frank and pantomimed eating. He waved in return, then laughed as Mary got an exasperated look and moved to break up yet another tussle between Michael and Lisbeth. He realized that he cared a great deal, just then.
He turned back. Bobby appeared satisfied. He dropped the cigarette butt and ground it out as another guy and two girls in leather coats came around a corner and waved at him. He adjusted his coat and asked "You going to fix our park?" Frank looked blank and said "Huh?" Bobby fixed him with a withering look. "You wrecked our park. Half the grass is burnt up and that tree you hung that Hellion in is all scorched and broken. You going to do anything to fix it?"
A half dozen protests rose in Frank's mind and died unspoken. There was only one answer that Captain Blastoff could make. "I'll do my whatever I can.", he promised. "Good!", Bobby said "If it was a Skull that done that, I'd have had to kick his [censored]". As he walked off towards his friends, he lifted his hand in a careless farewell and Frank bemusedly waved back.
By the time Frank walked up to the table, the party was over. Mary was packing up the leftovers and the kids had mostly gone out to play again. Off in the distance, he heard a boy shout "Watch out, I'm a Hellion!". A mother called "Billy! Language!" "Aw, Mom! That's what they're called!" Lisbeth called out "Well, you can't hurt me! I'm Captain Blastoff and I've got Gamma Goggles! Zap! Zap!" Frank chuckled and remembered summers from another age. His reverie was interrupted when Mary spoke. "You've made quite an impression around here." She smiled warmly and inclined her head in the direction he had come from. "What did you think of our Bobbie Mercado?" Frank shrugged. "He's a rough kid, but his heart is in the right place."
Mary arched an eyebrow and laughed. "That's an unusual first impression. It must have been an interesting discussion." Frank chuckled sheepishly. "He did sort of tell me to clean up my mess or else." Mary grinned knowingly. "THAT sounds like Bobby!"
She paused in her cleanup and looked searchingly at Frank. When she spoke the levity was gone. "I wanted to thank you, Frank. If something had happened to my children, I..." she turned her head away for a moment. When she turned back, her eyes glistened but her voice was steady. " I don't know what I would have done. You don't know what it means to me that you were there to protect them."
He looked away, and finally said "I'm no Hero, Mary. I'm just a guy in a space suit. None of that was me." She touched his arm. He turned his head back, and she smiled gently at him. For an instant, he had a glimpse of the pretty, idealistic 20 year old who had moved into the Row, full of gumption and dreams of changing the world. "Frank, did you know what would happen when you stepped between my children and the fire?" He shook his head, puzzled by the question. "Why didn't you cower in fear or run away and save yourself, instead?", she asked. "I know a certain Captain of the Rocket Rangers who would say that it's your courage, not your superpowers that make you a Hero."
He smiled gratefully. "Over the years, I came to think of Captain Blastoff as the albatross around my neck." He looked out over the park, and his gaze drifted to the roofline of the brownstones at the end of the block. "After today, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be."
Mary put down the box she was holding. "I want to show you something." She led him a few steps over to the fence gate. A bronze plaque, green with age, was set into the concrete. A small bronze urn was planted next to it, holding a single fresh red rose. Frank bent close and read "In memory of my Darling Patrick and the Garden he loved -- Mercedes Hamilton, 1910" He whistled in appreciation. Mary smiled. "I picked this place to live because of that plaque and this park. Mercedes Hamilton is a distant relation, so far removed that nobody really remembers any more. I like to think that she's looking down from wherever she is and smiling when she sees her great-grand-niece-twelve-times-removed playing in her park. When I have the weight of the world on my shoulders, standing here and thinking of her sometimes lifts it for a little while."
Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He mused on Jason and Bobby, and wondered who Patrick might have been. "I guess legacies can come in all shapes and sizes. You just have to know where to look." Mary nodded. "That's very profound, Frank. I'll have to remember that."
He touched the rose, and looked a question at her. She shrugged enigmatically, but offered no explanation. Instead, she grinned and asked "So, how are you spending your birthday?" He winced as he stood up. "Lisbeth told you?" Mary laughed as they returned to the table. "She told anyone who would listen. It's not everyone who shares a birthday with Captain Blastoff!"
It was Frank's turn to shrug. "Truthfully, I'm planning to go home, buy a pizza, pop open a Bud Paragon, and watch Deal-or-No-Deal." he said with a trace of embarassment. "Birthdays stopped being a big deal a long time ago."
Mary handed him a bag and a box, then picked up the last box herself. He had to run a few steps to catch up to her. "Well, we have a TV. No beer or pizza, I'm afraid, but if you like meatloaf and mashed potatoes, I know the kids would love to have a guest for dinner." She smiled, shyly. "If you're inclined, that is." Frank beamed. "Mary, that sounds like the best birthday a Ranger could ask for."
He walked up the steps and she asked "Why 'Deal-or-No-Deal'?" Frank chuckled as he got the door. "The models are all wearing the latest Super fashions from Icon." Mary snorted in mock derision as she entered the apartment building. "I might have guessed. Nobody watches that show for the game!"
The door closed behind them. The sounds of summer; kids shrieking, burgers sizzling and a guitar strumming, drifted skyward. Today, at least, this small bit of King's Row had achieved a truce with its surroundings. The evening sun dropped low enough to light the clouds...
... and Captain Blastoff congratulated his Rocket Rangers on another job well done. As the sun set over Rocket City, he turned to the camera. "Remember, Rangers! Eat your vegetables, drink your Ovaltine, and keep your courage strong! This is Captain Blastoff, reminding you that YOU are the ones who make the difference in your city! See you next week! *fade to black* "
****BUMP****
Because everyone should read this story!
No, I have no stake in this story, it is simply one of the best short stories I've read in a long while.
Thanks for the kind words, Gryphon. I have a better understanding now of what professional writers mean when they say that they wrote a story because it insisted on being written. 
Very nice story, and a great reminder that ultimately every story is about people, rather than powers or costumes or the like.
*applauds*
Thanks for the link, and the passing mention.
And yes, it is a great story.
My characters at Virtueverse
Faces of the City
Thanks! I actually enjoy reading this one myself. *heh* I've read more than one interview with an author where they say that they wrote a story because it was something they wanted to read and nobody else had written it.
That's pretty much the case with this one. 
I included an appearance by King because I think he must occasionally stop and smell the roses, so to speak. However desperate life in the Row is, there are the moments of peace and joy also. I'd think he must sometimes look in on those and draw some strength to carry on from them.
Speaking of roses, I don't really know the story of the rose; whether it's my story to write or someone else's. It's just one of those little mysteries of the Row, for now.
"Nooooo!", cried Evil Doctor Mastermind, as Captain Blastoff smashed the last of his Goonbots. "With your Gamma Goggles drained of power, there was no way you could beat my Goonbots! My plan was perfect!". Evil Doctor Mastermind activated his patented Retro Rocket Chair and launched into the sky, screaming "Curse you, Captain Blastoff! We will meet again!"
Captain Blastoff looked into the camera with his trademark grin. "Villains never learn! Remember, Rocket Rangers! It's not the power of your Gizmos that matters..."
"...it's the size of your courage!" Frank Merrill struck his most heroic pose, and waited. The parents of Birthday Boy applauded politely for a moment and Frank heaved a sigh of relief. "Another day, another thirty bucks." he thought. "At least it keeps me in cigarette money." Most of the children had long since gone to play with Birthday Boy's new toys. Frank gathered his things and pretended not to notice when Birthday Boy whined to his mother, "You said you'd get Positron!"
Out on the porch, Frank attempted to brush the detritus of yet another kids' party from his uniform. He finished by pulling a pack of Paragon Supers from his pocket and lighting up. Birthday Mom showed up just then and frowned disapprovingly at the cigarette as she handed him a check. A moment later, disapproval fought with contrition. "I'm so sorry about the watermelon! Jimmy's father had told him about Captain Blastoff's Gamma Goggles. I guess he thought you'd blow it up."
Frank glanced at the check and pocketed it. Birthday Mom's mortification hadn't extended to inclusion of a tip. He took a long drag, considered what he ought to say, and reminded himself that referrals were getting fewer and further between. He nodded and said "Kids will be kids, especially at parties. No harm done." Birthday Mom smiled gratefully; then frowned again as the cigarette butt hit the sidewalk. Courtesy and a loud crash from inside the brownstone won out over indignation. She thanked him hurriedly and dashed inside to prevent the further destruction of her home at the hands of a dozen pre-teens.
A look at his watch showed Frank he had a couple of hours to kill before his second party of the day. He considered the ever-present overcast of King's Row and sighed. "I suppose a walk will save bus fare. It'll get Doc Arens off my back about exercising, at any rate."
A last backward glance hilighted the deepening destruction of Birthday Mom's decor, as he flicked away the final clinging watermelon seeds. The kids had gathered and the cake had been lit. Frank lit up a Super in silent tribute, inhaled deeply, and blew out the match as Birthday Boy blew out his candles. "Happy Friggin' Fiftieth, Frank." he muttered. Turning his back on the party, he set foot to pavement and began the long walk to High Park.