“Yes, we’ve all seen the footage as well, but as most of us know, that is not objective truth. Our foundation is waiting for further confirmation before we will be making any more statements on the matter or declare anything. Thank you.
-Statement from The Captain Steel Foundation after repeated requests for comment.
“This is really weird for me,” Captain Steel said to Corina while he sat across from her. They and Roxanne were in a private waiting room usually reserved for upper-class passengers arriving or departing Bubba. The seats were molded synthetic leather and were beyond comfortable. No benching here; instead, each chair was its own separate zone with charging plugs, cup holders, and even a tiny holographic screen. Between the 3 of them was a table littered with news slates.
“It’s weird for me, too,” Corina said.
“Well, yeah, obviously—sorry.” His face went soft, and she studied it. He looked like he lacked sleep, heavy bags perched under his eyes like sandbags. But he was Mike Masterson; he moved like him, talked like him. She grinned awkwardly, realizing she hadn’t said a word in 2 minutes.
“Do you have kids in your world?” She asked. He looked away momentarily, and he nodded.
“I…did,” he told her. “Barely months old; Grimm killed them both, Danielle….you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Corina burst out, turning red. “You’ve got all this going on, and I’m just here picking at what is probably the worst memory of your life.”
“You’re fine,” he replied, smiling after a beat. “I’m sure this isn’t easy for you either; you say I died?“
Corina nodded, “Yeah, Grimm killed you. He woke up later and…well, I killed him right back.” Corina’s shoulders sagged; she wasn’t sure she was proud of that. Captain Steel nodded at her confession and said:
“And you took up my mantle.”
“Yeah,” she replied. “Can’t say I wanted to, but….,” she shrugged. Cap eyed her sympathetically.
“I’m not sure my Corina would have done the same,” he said. “But, you’re a lot like her, you know.”
Corina smiled back, and their eyes locked momentarily. There was an excited flutter in her belly almost impossible to ignore. “Well,” she eventually said. “Ditto, honestly.”
“You know, after all that happened, I threw myself into making the verse safer for our people. I got that kind of purpose from her; she always thought I could be doing more than what I had been.”
“Wow, so did I,” she said, her heart felt tight.
“Were you the change you wanted to see?” He asked her; she had no answer. Well, she did have a reply; it just wasn’t one she liked to acknowledge. Cap continued without consciously missing a beat or ignoring her silence; she couldn’t tell.
“There are stretches where I’m not on the planet, and it's just hitting me that I might never see it again.”
“Oh, don’t say that; we don’t know that. Right, Rox?”
“Hm?” Roxanne had been staring into space, a bit of disassociation that came on whenever and however it wanted.
“There has to be a way to send him to his home universe, right?” Roxanne looked at Corina, then to Cap—who also looked at her—and back to Corina. She shrugged.
“If there’s a way to breach the wall on purpose, I don’t know it,” she said. “Yet. I tend to think nothing is impossible, not anymore.” Corina turned back to Cap.
“See?” She told him. Cap studied her, half of a smirk plastered on his face. Her voice triggered long thought dead feelings in his body; it was an easy routine to fall back into. He smiled fully and nodded.
“Okay,” He said. “Until then, what should I do? I doubt this universe needs Captain Steel; you probably fill that niche admirably.” Corina had to stop herself from blushing; it was something she didn’t know she wanted to hear from her brother until that moment.
“I mean, it’s already out there,“ Corina said. “That you’re back, and maybe it does need one. Has either of you seen the net? It's probably the most positive I’ve ever seen it. The name just brings hope in a way I never could.”
“So…what do you want to do?” Roxanne asked. She checked her usual social media haunts, and Corina was not exaggerating. The top hashtag, #CapAlive, is positive story after positive story of how he had personally affected their lives.
“We say he’s back. We say Captain Steel has returned.”
“And what if you find me a way home?” He asked. “What will you say then?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “We can cross that bridge if we come to it, but I think the potential for good this could bring is powerful, and I don’t think we should squander it.”
“Corina,” Roxanne uttered. “I hate the lying; I’m not sure we should start this off as a lie.”
“That’s the narrative out there already, though,” Corina replied. She looked at Cap, “I think we should lean into it. What do you think?” He sat still and contemplated the idea. Roxanne studied his aura across the EM spectrum; it bristled against his very presence. She was becoming very uncomfortable with the whole thing.
“Maybe that’s why I’m here,” he said finally. The words sent a shiver down Roxanne's spine. Everything happens for a reason, right? The sentence echoed in her headspace. She could feel this disassociation again, silently creeping over her shoulders. She inhaled slowly and told herself things were fine repeatedly until it subsided.
“I’ll do it,” he added and stood up. He and Corina shook hands and stared at each other. Each face-to-face with the sibling they had long mourned. It was like staring at that pain right in the face all over again. Corina broke free first.
“First, I think we should tell his family—your family,” she said. “They should at least know the truth.”
“Agreed,” Cap replied. Roxanne still had her misgivings but deferred to her friend; she at least appreciated that Corina was telling the people this would most affect the truth. Corina walked over to the video call setup positioned in the room's corner. Anchored to the ceiling was a translucent screen; under that was the device you paid for and placed the call. The signal would travel from here, through bleedspace, and reach Izanami within 10 minutes since there was a delay in the feed.
Corina dialed in the contact info she had for Danielle and waited for the call to go through. Captain Steel thought it was wiser to stay out of the camera frame, so he leaned on a wall off the side. Roxanne stood next to her friend, feeling anxious over the reaction. No doubt they had heard the scuttlebutt bouncing around the social media sphere. Roxanne could only imagine what they all felt.
The splash screen for the telecom company, BCExpress, filled the viewing area while the call was placed and sent out. After 10 minutes, 3 windows popped up. One sat on top of the two others like a pyramid. On top was Daniell; her eyes were bloodshot; she looked like sleep was a luxury. The bottom left was MJ, right was Athena. Their eyes were beady and filled with energy; they both spoke first:
“AUNTIE, WHAT IS HAPPEN-,” their audio was cut off by their mother, who looked exasperated and on the verge of crying for the 30th time today.
“Corina,” she said. “There’s a video of-,” and she couldn’t continue. Corina was sympathetic. A tiny part of her wanted to let them believe that her brother, their husband and father, was actually back from the dead. Hell, a part of her asserted and enjoyed feeling it; it was just so damn easy to do. When she looked across from herself and saw his face, smile, and mannerisms, didn’t that make him the real deal in an abstract sense? He’s the only Captain Steel in this universe up and walking about, isn’t he?
“It’s going to be hard to explain,” Corina said with a heavy breath. She looked to her left and at Cap, who hadn’t shifted from his spot against the wall. She tilted her head to the right, indicating that he should come into the frame. The best way forward was to rip off the band-aid—hopefully.
Captain Steel slid off the wall, unfolded his arms, and walked toward Corina. He came into the frame looking at Corina but then faced the screen. Roxanne was pretty sure she was getting red from all the feels. Danielle gasped and held her hand over her mouth. Even the kids were quiet, mouths shut tight, and emotions almost unreadable.
“Is it really…?” Danielle let the letters stumble out of her mouth and shut her eyes forcefully. This was it, the breaking point. All her emotions burst from her seams, and she cut the call on her end. Cap looked hurt momentarily; it wasn’t his Danielle, yet it was. She looked the same; the kids, well, he spent many a night wondering how they would grow up. Corina touched him on the shoulder and stepped forward.
The kids, though unmuted now, stayed silent. Corina explained how he wasn’t their dad but a version of Captain Steel from a parallel universe; they didn’t say anything still. MJ seemed particularly enthralled and sat there with rapt attention. Athena, however, leaned back and sat calmly, pretending she wasn’t listening while stealing the occasional glance.
“Anything you’d like to say, Son?” Cap said, directed at MJ.
“I thought the point is that he’s not actually your son?” Athena interrupted in a low voice. She ran her tongue over the front of her teeth, then suddenly sat upright.
“You know, we could use this to help us do what we spoke about, Auntie,” she said. MJ perked up at this and nodded his head enthusiastically. Corina rolled her eyes and pursed her lips; she wasn’t in the mood.
“We’ll discuss it when we get back,” she told them.
“We should go,” Athena said. “I don’t think mom’s doing so good.”
“We’ll try to explain what you told us,” MJ said. “See you guys when you get back.” And the feed cut. Roxanne watched Captain Steel through The Sight for that entire call. His auras and colors were all wrong, like they were actively fighting against the very physical properties of this universe. Roxanne suspected it had something to do with his powers and abilities and couldn’t strictly rule out it was because he didn’t belong here. When he joined the call properly, things went off the charts, which gave her pause.
When his emotions spiked, it somehow affected her; it felt like a sharp sensation in her brain. Corina approached her, she had her hands on her hips casually, and she spoke softly to Roxanne:
“Listen, about what you said before….” She said. “About how I might not want to know what you think about the why’s?”
Roxanne swallowed.
“Mm Hm?” she squeaked out.
“You should let me decide that, hm? Something has you spooked.” Roxanne shook her head and put her hands on Corina’s arms.
“No, no, I’m just a worrier,” she told Corina. “You know me, always wahh space is scary.” She forced a laugh. Corina studied her face before saying:
“You know that’s not gonna work forever, right?”
“Yup,” Roxanne replied. “But for now, let's just go home.”
----------------------------------------
When the world seems like it is on fire, regular people always look for a voice from on high to tell them everything will be alright; Jackson Shaw felt more than up for the task. After all, his oratory skills are what has kept his popularity scores high. His talents were sure to be tested today, with the entire galaxy rocked by the potential return of a legend alongside the existence of a spreading sickness rapidly becoming impossible to ignore.
With calls for comments from the press, it had been decided he would at least acknowledge the existence of a relatively minor virus making its way through Johansontown, and, truth be told, it was the perfect time for this. With everyone preoccupied with that other story, what would generally be the top story galaxy-wide was now the 4th or 5th most trending topic at best and dropping. All he needed to do was get across that things were being well-contained; nothing was wrong. The ICG had protected the people and contained the calamity. All that, and the kicker: it only really affected OHs anyway.
Simple.
He was in a virtual conference call with reporters from every influential news site in existence, from The Saint Century Times to Bleednet News Live. Only a privileged few had this kind of access to the top shareholder in the government, they were relied on to sanitize and normalize anything he said, and most everyone just swallowed it, which was good. The narrative was paramount for those whose entire existence depended upon keeping the status quo.
The narrative trumped all.
The conference call was broadcast from his offices on the top floors of Central One. He wore a helmet hooked up to a cube-sized desktop and reclined backward in a massive, flashy chair. His office was an open-plan room with glass walls, so he could always look and see the world outside. Each pane of glass also doubled as a view screen broadcasting a different program.
At the center of the room was a sizeable synthetic oak desk. It was more expensive to make such a thing than to grow and cut the tree right here on Izanami, which was the point. Decadence, opulence; always go for the prettiest, most expensive, and the rarest thing. Currently, he was joking around with some of the reporters as that was the game. He was all smiles before the cameras came on; let them think they’re on your level and worth a damn.
“Okay, people, this will be short and sweet,” Jackson said. “This is important.”
“More important than-” one of them chirped in. Jackson talked over them, his go-to move.
“We won't be taking any questions, especially about that. You’re such a rude person, do you know that?” The rest of the pool laughed, attempting to avoid his abuse coming their way. It didn’t always work.
“Some people see a grainy video and think, OH! That must be the truth,” he continued. “Deepfakes don’t exist, right? I've had those attempts used against me in the past. It’s true. A lot of people say I’ve been the victim of this. So excuse me if I’m not ready to officially proclaim that you know who has returned from the dead. And It’s irresponsible of you guys to even play into that, so irresponsible.”
Jackson's sister entered the office; she so loved watching her brother talk to the press. It got her hot to see them talked down to, something she could never try herself—oh no, perish the thought. Her brother did enough for both of them, plus the idea she’d debase herself by stooping to his boorish antics was enough to make her laugh. Jaime walked over to a small countertop bar in the corner and poured herself a slug of rum. She leaned against the bar top and sipped from the glass slowly. Jaime programmed her AUG to high-jack the conference signal and listened in. She savored every sip; this was her safe space.
“Okay, let’s start. Everyone here? Good.” Jackson shifted in his seat. In virtual, he was represented by an avatar that looked 20 years younger, jacked to the gills, and stood at a podium. Behind him was the ICG national flag, a white diamond in a sea of crimson. It was a take-off of the original 100’s flag they came up with when they had first touched down. Originally community designed and solicited, it still being in use helped the masses feel better about themselves.
The avatars of the reporters were faceless, featureless humanoids that mimicked natural movement but glitched out every so often. Occasionally an arm would stretch unnaturally and clip through an avatar sitting next to them. Jackson didn’t see the press as real people, so he didn’t want them rendered as such. Both he and his sister found it oh-so amusing.
“Fellow citizens, first, I’d like to confirm some of the tales you’ve heard spread like wildfire. A virus is making its way through the citizens of Johansonstown of unknown origin. It’s incredibly mild, and we have all of the best people our money can buy on the scene and working with many fabulous people. The town commissioner has always been so lovely to me, and he’s done a great job with quarantine down there; absolutely fantastic.
“As of now, the virus, we call it the small virus, is contained. You will hear the nastiest things from people out there. In fact, that is why I’m speaking to you right now, because terrible things are being spread, and I ask you, my fellow citizen, to do this: Look. Listen. Learn. If you see anyone spreading falsehoods, report it to your next highest manager, and you’ll be due a bonus.” Jackson snapped his fingers toward his sister; he knew she was there. That was his way of asking for a drink while he was connected. She slammed her glass down, furious.
He loved it.
“As we learn more, we’ll be sure to send it on down so that together we can all beat this cold because it's barely a cold. In fact, I can tell you something we do know: this only seems to affect OverHumans. It's something about the genes they got inside them. All that stuff inside them that makes them different possibly makes them susceptible to it. So be careful out there, but really, we got this.
Thank you for your time; I won't be taking any questions.” Jackson removed the helmet and ended the conference. He exhaled heavily and looked up at his sister, who was pouring herself another glass. He got up quickly and walked over. She turned around and allowed him clearance to pass.
“I’m surprised you mentioned the OH thing,” she told him.
“Let them snipe at each other about that for a while,” he poured himself some bourbon, brought the glass to his nose, and sniffed; he loved the smell of it. “If they’re mad, they’re engaged, win-win.”
“Your so-called smartest people can’t even tell if it’s transmitted air-born or not; I think it’s premature to say it only affects a portion of the population.”
“Who cares?” He scoffed. “I just said it, it’s already the truth, and it’ll stay the truth for most of them.”
“You’re just such a boor,” she told him and placed her glass down on his desk. “Do you think it’s true?” Jackson sighed.
“Do I think what is true, sister?” He held another freshly poured glass to his lips but did not drink.
“That Captain Steel has returned from the dead?” Jackson finally took a long slow sip. He was familiar with the Captain and worked with him as closely as he does with his sister, Lady Steel. They were useful idiots. Both presented and upheld a vision of society that seemed just approachable, inspiring even. At first, they upset the old status quo but then set a new status quo. Something about them made massaging the populace surprisingly easy.
“Gosh, I hope so,” he finally said, smiling. “Think of all the engagement that’ll bring.”
----------------------------------------
Spydalow sat in his tiny apartment, lenses off and suit open, exposing his bare chest. He was hot and clammy from allergies. He had just watched the news conference with the head of the board of directors, and the muscles in his forehead were weary from his intense scowl. Bastard, he lamented. Halfway through the speech, Spyda had found himself triggered by Shaw so quickly he had kept a list of all the ways.
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First: Spyda dumped his footage plus the files stolen off the desktop cube across the net. It was being ignored because the biggest story in history broke. That Shaw—that jackhole—also decided to also just casually drop that there was a virus and a full settlement was in quarantine didn’t help, either.
Secondly, he was annoyed by the almost subtle shift in putting the onus on not getting sick on OverHumans. The elite was shitty enough to them without thinking they transmitted a disease.
Finally, he was confident the mass graves and this virus were connected but hadn’t yet found the link; the open-source research he solicited via dumping the cube contents has produced very little on that front.
Searching through more of the previous owner's emails and messages revealed more careless confessions, but they were ultimately vague, essentially wild, but not wild enough. His chest and nose felt like they were on fire, and he sneezed uncontrollably five times in a row. The insides of his nostrils felt raw. Once the sneezes started, they typically went on for a few minutes. He got up and stuck a nasal spray up his nose before he resumed typing on the computer again.
Jollyhauls: spydaaaaaaaaaa
ABI5553: fakaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
ABI5553 has left the chat!
Jumanga: @spydalow have you seen the messages date from like 2 years ago?
SpYdAlOw is typing…
SpYdAlOw: Gimme a date range
SpYdAlOw: Why
He received the information he asked for and ran a search algorithm to narrow down the results. It was mostly discussions about a facility in Saint Century, useless without an address, although not wholly as such. He already knew of the existence of such a facility, but he zeroed in on the web address the original message came from:
[email protected].
He entered that into a peer-to-peer search bar and watched the results flood in. Leadgroup was a law firm that appeared to, at least according to their plain text website, deal with bail bonds and other pre-trial services but did not actually handle the cases themselves. Why would an import/export company be mixed up with these people? Maybe another layer of frontery, Spyda considered. The firm had an address up on its website, likely fake. Still, he forwarded it to Sam to see what was what, although Spyda mused that he would probably ask that AI again.
Spyda tried to laugh at the thought, but the sneezing started again. He again sprayed his nose and shut down everything. He got up from his chair and watched it recede to the floor. He then touched a panel on the sidewall, and a small cot flopped down from within it. It was barely big enough to house him, his legs dangling off the edge, but it was horizontal, and he had been up for almost 48 hours; it was time to sleep.
----------------------------------------
It took them two hours to secure reliable transport from Bubba since the storm destroyed so many ships. However, once they had, the trip toward Izanami space took only fifteen minutes. They stopped off 2,000 light-years outside of the Brachium system at a little-known substation known as Kushiro. It had very little in the way of living beings stationed on it, served as a factory that refurbished ship components, and was 98% automated.
Corina opted for this approach to make the announcement away from any crowd or news cambots, figuring it would be pandemonium once official word got out. Roxanne opted to continue toward Izanami; she wanted to see Chris and touch base with her grandmother but indicated she’d be watching the press conference when it happened if it happened.
Captain Steel was still on the ship, on the flight deck alone. He delayed disembarking to use the bathroom but now sat alone in his seat; he wanted to think. The craft was shaped like the head of a shovel with four massive ion engines protruding from the year. It was a first-class passenger ship with an occupancy max of 7 people, not including the pilot.
The last few hours have been a lot to take in, and he felt like none of it had sunk in quite yet. He tried to focus on the facts he was supposedly presented with: his counterpart from this world was dead; his family counterparts were alive, and they wanted him to assume the identity of his doppelganger. Part of his thought process felt skeptical and justified. None of this felt right, and he wondered if he was still being tricked; until he saw her.
Hell, until he saw them all.
The trip through the archives was staggering. Danielle, his children, looking like how he had imagined they would have if they had lived; what did it mean? Was the only fundamental difference between the two timelines his and his family’s mortality? Did that mean his being here was more than just some cosmic fluke or mistake? The whole idea bothered him, but something gnawed at him; he’d let the thing play out. If the family signed off, then he’d do it.
“Cap?” It was Corina. She had entered the ship and stood at the service door, where passengers entered and exited. “You okay?”
“You’re just gonna keep calling me only Cap, will you?” He said, half smiling. Corina looked down and stepped inside with her hands clasped behind her back.
“It’s just a little hard to call you Michael, to be honest,” she said. “But I’ll try.”
“All we can do is try,” he told her. “Corina.” There was that smile again. She always saw the same one when she thought back to happy memories between them. Memories of him placed him on a pedestal, something Corina felt she needed to emulate. The smile that sometimes made her mad, always coming off like everything was just fine all the time. She took a deep breath.
Objectively, this was not her brother.
And yet…
“Someone is here to see you,” she told him. She stepped to the side, and Danielle entered the flight deck cautiously. Both she and Cap caught each other’s eye. Her eyes and nose were red and irritated from crying, sniffing, and blowing. Her eyes were scratched from being up for days and constant questions from everyone—her children, her friends, everyone. Cap stood up. Corina eyed him, his body language speaking to a kind of caution. Or a hesitation.
He looked like he had a lot on his mind: a lot to do or a lot to say, perhaps both. Danielle, too had similar body language. Heck, Corina had to admit she felt identical emotions and realized that, within everyone’s presence, all these feelings leaped into overdrive. It took a lot of self-control not to jump up and hug the doppelganger and every passing second made it more difficult not to. It felt like her mind was yelling at her to accept that he WAS her brother, that he WAS her Captain Steel. More silence had packed the room; Corina cleared her throat.
“I’ll let you two talk,” she said to the space between them. She walked off the ship but not before placing a hand on Danielle’s shoulder. Danielle returned the touch, smiled, and patted Corina’s arm. She approached Cap, and he took a few steps himself. The seats, spaced in 2 rows of 2, separated by an aisle, had individual ergonomic chairs that swiveled around and reclined a decent way backward. Cap motioned for Danielle to sit across from the chair he had walked in front of.
She sat down, and he followed. They stayed quiet for seconds and minutes, just looking at one another. Cap bit his bottom lip lightly and without paying much attention to it. Danielle noticed, however. It was what her husband did whenever he was nervous. No one ever really noticed it but her.
“How did we meet?” She broke the silence.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean—your version of me,” she clarified.
“Ah,” He shifted in his seat and eased back comfortably. “You were a teacher on a field trip with some of your students; you taught chemistry then. It was a Uridium phosphate plant stationed within the orbit of the gas giant Axio and was getting robbed. I, being who I am, showed up at the request of the owners of the station, and I cleaned house. Your students mobbed me, having followed my early work. We talked; you pretended you weren’t impressed with me.”
“I wasn’t-” She stopped herself. She had dreams like this. Michael, growing old with her, replaying the stories of their lives together, exchanging the shared memory. Cap had felt this similar feeling too. His heart beat softly but fast. They made eye contact again; it held—lingered. For seconds more. She broke off contact first.
“Corina said she wants you to pretend you’re him, my husband.”
Cap looked away, too, and nodded.
“I don’t know how I feel about it, to be perfectly honest,” she continued. “I don’t know how I feel about-” She indicated Cap; this situation, everything.
“Listen,” Cap leaned forward. His eyes squinted and he kind of smiled. “This isn’t exactly normal to me either. But I think I’m supposed to be here.”
“W—what do you mean?”
“You feel it don’t you?” He asked her. “Being here, with you, it feels like I’ve woken up from a terrible dream….” He grabbed her hand softly. She almost pulled it away but found she couldn’t. “What if this universe needs me? What if…you need me?”
“What if we need each other?” She responded softly. Danielle stared up at him and let her hand slip out of his slowly. She cleared her throat and stood up. He followed her, and they stood across from each other, barely inches apart. Danielle felt the heat under her skin; their gravity intertwined.
“MOM!” The voice had hit the entire cabin like a truck, and the two smiled awkwardly at each other. Danielle's posture softened, and she looked at Cap with a smirk.
“Okay,” she said eventually. “Let’s see what happens—Michael.” He smiled at that and followed her out of the cabin. They filed down the stairs into the docking bay. A vast area with visible girders and rafters crisscrossing the distance between walls, it was barren except for their loan ship. Out to greet them on the bay floor were Corina, Athena, and MJ.
“W-what the hell is this?” Danielle stammered out. Corina was in her Lady Steel uniform, which wasn’t out of the ordinary, but MJ was dressed in a tight black t-shirt with yellow trim, and the letters K and S stitched across his chest with green pants and black boots. Athena wore a red leather jacket, a black turtle neck, white and red compression pants, and boots. Corina’s eyes rapidly blinked while she tried to maintain eye contact.
“Hear them out before you murder them,” she said.
“Oh, just them?” Danielle's eyes could melt icy planets.
“Mom, we want to honor dad’s legacy,” Athena said.
“And what better time to come out than his re-introduction?” MJ finished.
“You two got names?” Captain Steel chimed in; Danielle whirled around to look at him, too, and he felt small suddenly.
“Of course, father,” MJ paused, almost catching himself. He turned red. Athena, having noticed, or perhaps felt, her brother's feelings, picked up on his behalf.
“I’m Athena Steel, and he’s Kid Steel!”
Corina grinned after that, all teeth. Danielle had her head in her hands. In some ways, she knew this was a long time coming, but it didn’t make it any easier.
“Well, I like it!” Captain Steel shouted; both kids found themselves beaming with pride involuntarily. This was a dream come true. Danielle sighed heavily and looked at every face. She felt like she had to play the part and offer some sort of protest…but she just couldn’t. This scene before her, these generations of Steel, actually made her happy. The family felt whole for the first time in 17 years. Corina could feel it too. They all did.
“Okay,” Danielle said. “Let’s show the world.”
----------------------------------------
Roxanne had continued traveling on toward Izanami for a few reasons. First, she found that she missed Chris. Rox had to face it; she was falling hard and could not stop it. She put up these half-assed boards to keep the emotions from flooding in, but it was leaky; this was inevitable. She let it wash over her; why fight it? She also wanted to check in on Grams. The news of a significant settlement shutdown had prompted a panicked message from her to Roxanne’s inbox.
She looked into that cursorily and came away from it, knowing as much as grams did. That speech from Shaw was cringe-inducing, but that was Shaw. Par for the course. She had Azonne set up alerts based on it, as it was worth monitoring. Keywords like “virus” or “quarantine” were the primary triggers. The final reason was, well, she had a hunch about something when it came to the return of Captain Steel, and she needed to check it herself.
Roxanne arrived at her family brownstone first and was greeted cheerily by the home AI.
Good day, Roxanne.
“Good day, Alice,” she responded. Her uniform was dematerialized and replaced by regular clothes as she walked down the main hallway and headed for the living room. Grandmother Millie was parked on a white sectional and glued to news vids. It worried Roxanne; so-called “doom watching” was a big problem and one she actively remained vigilant about within her own habits. Naturally, all the reactionaries were having their typical field day, with all that red meat Shaw had left for them on the bone.
She hated it.
The living room had an entertainment center large enough to house a 55-inch view screen. Between it and the sectional was a large glass coffee table littered with malleable news and magazine slates. On the walls were family pictures. Each wall-mounted station alternated between various images of Roxanne, Grams, Grampa, Corina, and even Wes and Roxanne. She ignored it and stood between the screen and grams sightline.
“Gramma, we’ve talked about this,” she said.
“I’m just staying informed!” Gramma said with not much conviction.
“No, you’re freaking yourself out.” Roxanne, fully connected to the house AI, sent a command to shut down the screen, and it did so.
“I think you’re taking that idiot's word for it too easily,” Millie told her.
“I am not,” Roxanne responded. “I just think being vigilant and skeptical are not mutually exclusive.” Roxanne sat down next to grandmother, took her hand, and smiled.
“I get it,” she told her. “But I’ll keep an eye on it; just don’t let those vultures in your head, please?” Grandmother inhaled deeply and nodded.
“Is the other thing true?” She asked Roxanne.
“Uhhh, sort of? We’ll find out tonight. C’mon, let me make you some food for a change.” Roxanne badly wanted to tell grandmother the truth, but it wasn’t like she knew the exact truth either. Regardless, she got up and led grandmother to the kitchen, where she made sandwiches for them both. Neither of them was very fancy, mustard, ham, salami, sliced cheese, raw onion, and tomato for her and none for grams.
Roxanne was a touch embarrassed that she couldn’t cook herself very well. It seemed like a fair trade-off for wielding phenomenal cosmic power. Still, she filed away a plan to look into the culinary skills of her predecessors later.
The two made small talk until the sandwiches finished toasting. Roxanne checked the time and saw it was 3 hours into the Long Evening. Chris would be home by now, and she wanted to surprise them with her presence. Rox inhaled her portion, kissed grandmother goodbye, and left the brownstone. She hit the sky without changing her uniform and flew toward South Saint Century.
Chris lived above the store; all their money was tied up in that building, so they couldn’t afford a better place. It was a two-story walk-up without so much as a lift and was literally across from a mag rail line, so it got really noisy there some nights. Roxanne walked up the one flight of stairs; the hall was dingy and didn’t smell so great. Elaborate holographic graffiti lined the walls. Colorful serpents and overtly muscular dudes entered her personal space; if she weren’t so used to them, she’d have instinctively flinched.
At the top of the stairs, Roxanne had a door to her right and a wall dead ahead. She gently knocked on the door and heard something crashing on the other side. Hurried footsteps followed a second later, followed by the sound of the door latch unhooking. Chris opened the door, and their face quickly flushed from annoyance to joy.
“Rox??” they exclaimed. Roxanne opted not to answer; instead, she kissed them, and they both stumbled inside. Chris’ place was a simple studio apartment with a visible kitchen; a bed/couch combo took up space in the living room while a collection of analog books littered the floor. On TV was a countdown special to the upcoming press conference Lady Steel had called; 20 minutes had remained. The two broke off their kiss, and Chris leaned forward so their foreheads could touch.
“I missed you,” Roxanne said, surprising herself with the honesty.
“I missed you too,” Chris replied, quelling the brewing panic Roxanne had engaged in herself. She eyed the floor and all the books splayed across it before kneeling to pick one up. She examined it in her hands; it was called “Summer Sun Tan”; she had never heard of it.
“What’s the deal with all this?” She asked, putting the book back on the floor.
“Oh, that?” Chris turned red and kneeled; they started stacking them. “New shipment came in after hours, and I thought I’d catalog them….”
“I’m sorry,” Roxanne said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You can interrupt me any day,” they said with a big smile. Roxanne assisted Chris in stacking up the books. Afterward, the two sat down on the couch and snuggled up close. Ten minutes left.
“So what was it like?” Chris asked.
“You really like hearing about that stuff, huh?”
“I mean, don’t you like living it?”
“Um—it’s a lot,” she leaned back into Chris’ chest; she liked being there. “I don’t hate it or anything; I love it, in fact. I worry a lot about the results of the choices I’ve had to make; the choices I’ll have to make; it sometimes feels paralyzing.” She intertwined her hands with Chris’s, and they kissed the top of her head.
7 minutes.
“Like what?” They asked. Roxanne did a big dramatic sigh. She could tell this would be the kind of conversation that couldn’t happen without recapping her entire origin. Roxanne’s said bits and pieces to Chris, here and there, and there wasn’t time for the full one here. She played with the ring on her right finger with her thumb. The other hand continued to hold Chris’s.
“I can’t get into it now; it's just way too big.” Roxanne finally said. “I’ll tell you one thing I’ve got concerns about, and it’s this thing we’re about to watch.”
“Why? Everyone seems excited about it.”
Roxanne didn’t answer. She had no idea how to explain a feeling in the pit of her stomach. The mechanism of Captain Steel’s “resurrection” defied the senses. His body gave off signals that agitated against the very nature of our reality. He didn’t belong here, yet he was brought here. By what? That’s what scared Roxanne.
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “I kind of want to check something out after this.”
“Can I come with you?”
Roxanne glanced up at Chris and said: “I’m going to a tomb.”
“Okay, can I seriously come with you?” Roxanne snorted at this; she thought they were so cute it made her turn red. Three minutes left.
“Have I told you that’s why I like you? I don’t worry so much when I’m around you,” she said softly. Chris smiled down at Roxanne, and they leaned forward. The both of them kissed, and Roxanne’s insides felt like fireworks. Her cells felt alive, just like the first time she had ever flown or used her powers in any capacity. She broke off and leaned her head back into Chris’ chest. She thought about what she planned to do.
The tomb in question would be the one belonging to Captain Steel. In Roxanne's mind, there existed a slim chance that the doppelganger being here in this universe was the result of a happy accident or even a random cosmic glitch. Roxanne was leaning toward something else, but she entertained the theory all the same. As far as she was concerned, there was only one way to at least confirm it.
Roxanne went to speak again, but the music coming from the TV changed and signaled the start of the presser. They both sat up to see better; they still sat close. Roxanne closed her hands in front of her face, and the rings loomed in her peripheral vision. Corina came out first. The background behind her was computer-generated and resembled the beach of a tropical planet; Roxanne shook her head.
Corina spoke for a few minutes. She thanked everyone for watching the stream. She got right down to it:
“Everyone, as the press release said, the rumors are true: Captain Steel lives.”
She stepped to the side, and the view zoomed out slightly to show him stepping in from just outside the frame. Instantly the live chat to the side of the feed crashed. He shook Corina’s hand, and they side-hugged. It was very surreal to Roxanne. The doppelganger popped in high resolution, and Chris had a shine across their face. Roxanne almost found herself swept up in it too. Hell, she’d felt it in person; his aura was infectious, even across distances.
“Where was I? I don’t rightly know. It feels like I had been asleep, living a whole different lifetime, blissfully unaware that I had fallen. Or maybe this is the dream?” *laughs* “I think the important thing is that I’m back. Back to finish my work. And back to be with my family.”
Cap smiled his prize-winning smile. He held his arm out and beckoned for someone off-screen. Danielle appeared next to him, and they hugged and held each other. It was wholesome, if not absurd. Roxanne couldn’t believe how easy the lie was to sell; she felt sick.
“Multiple announcements today, it seems.” *everyone laughs* “I have children, two, in fact. I missed them growing up—but I can at least watch them become heroes!”
Roxanne watched Cap announce the coming of Kid Steel and Athena Steel. The happiness etched on their faces was plain as day for lightyears. She thought both of them looked great, and she had no doubt they’d be great heroes. She just thought the whole lie was a shame. She got sick of watching and stood up.
“Wanna go now?”
----------------------------------------
Captain Steel’s tomb was on an artificial island just off the coast of Saint Century in the Maury Ocean and had attracted quite a crowd. The island had one building, his tomb. It was a marvel of classical Greek architecture to maximize his post-death mythical status. He was spoken about, written about, and talked about in the hushed tones reserved for Gods. Caught up in the moment, perhaps driven by guilt, Corina was talked into this having this garish display.
A golden statue of the man, perched in the center courtyard, had a tiny moat that surrounded it. Various people and some aliens had gathered here when news first broke of his possible resurrection. People prayed others sang. It had a vibrant and party-like atmosphere. Despite the late hours into the Long Evening, no one showed any fatigue.
Beyond the courtyard and the statue were massive golden double doors leading into his tomb properly. They were shut and had been for some time. At first open to the public during the first few years of its existence, that was taken away after the first public defacing: holo-graffiti of a giant penis.
Roxanne and Chris arrived at the island quietly. They held hands the entire way, and Roxanne touched down on the island beach without so much as igniting her aura. They walked past a group of chanters who shouted throaty, guttural words up at the golden statue in the vain hopes of getting its attention. Further up the path, another group passed around a small device that they took turns stabbing into their neck.
Further still and they walked past the statue and closer to the golden doors. An alien whose species Roxanne recognized as Zillari was posted nearby, a reptilian-humanoid race with spiked backs and teeth to match. They and the Vaad were considered client species to humanity since the three were the most abundant intelligent life in the galaxy; Roxanne knew of more than a handful on a higher plane of intelligence.
The Zillari glanced back at them and grunted. Roxanne waved; she had gotten better at diplomacy.
“How do we know it’s the real deal?” it said.
“What do you mean?” Chris asked.
“How do we know it’s the real deal?” they repeated. “Is the body still in there?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Roxanne said. She let go of Chris’ hand and approached the door. The Zillari eyed her quizzically but did nothing. Next to the door was a security panel, probably the most high-tech security a person of Corina’s means could afford. She hesitated; she was doing this without saying anything to her friend. It could make her pretty mad.
But she needed to know. And she didn’t feel she needed to ask for permission.
All the money in the world couldn’t buy a sound security system to keep Azonne out of it. Doubtful, even quantum engineers on the outer edges could manage such a feat. The avatar was in the system efficiently and shut it all down. The door rattled loudly as its locking mechanism became untethered, and the doors slowly opened.
Roxanne stood back; behind her, the partygoers turned into witnesses. They all watched her silently. Once there was enough clearance for her petite frame, Roxanne stepped inside. She reactivated the security systems, made the locks retract, and closed the doors again.
“Uh, Rox?” Chris was heard saying, and Roxanne fired off a message of apology. She hadn’t intended on drawing a crowd, but this wouldn’t take long. The tomb was decorated with ornate flags and lit with fake LED candles. At the center, on a foot-high pedestal, was his coffin. His coffin was engraved at the top with his symbol in solid black onyx. Roxanne approached slowly, and she reached out her hand.
She touched the top compartment door, and it hissed as air escaped from it. It was built to preserve the body, which did not surprise Roxanne. He was famous enough to display, so why not enough to sustain his form? What didn’t surprise her, however, was what she was seeing:
There wasn’t a body there.
This meant one thing to Roxanne. It was crystal clear, like a giant neon sign.
Captain Steel wasn’t in this universe because of some random cosmic glitch.
The universe put him there.