Earth Imperfect
This scene picks up directly after the events of The Silver Stranger and acts as a sort of issue #0 to bridge the novels and future stories. If you’re just tuning in, you can start right here (or click here for an index of the series to date).
Several weeks ago …
Sentient monkeys ruled the upside-down dimension. The twisted gravity pushed any human toward the sky, endeavoring to fling them into oblivion if they had nothing to hold onto and no ceiling to seek shelter on. Miranda, powerless in that realm, barely saved herself upon her involuntary arrival, and she barely saved Alyssa. But they never would have found their way home if not for a lone human claiming to be the Golden Gladiator. Despite only having just met them, Carey helped Ultra Woman and the Silver Stranger return to Earth, delaying his own freedom in the process.
And here he was. On this Earth, not his own—not the Earth that allegedly contained numerous superheroes and supervillains, all perfectly noble or perfectly evil. This superhero had saved himself, naturally, even without the armor that gave him his powers.
When Miranda asked how he escaped, Carey simply flashed a warm, crooked grin and said, “They’re monkeys. Frankly, I’m embarrassed I didn’t escape sooner.”
Miranda brought him straight to Terrific Hall, and Ken caught up shortly later. The two old friends hung back by the triangular table at the center of the voluminous room while Carey sat at the computer station, scouring news websites and online encyclopedias to learn about this new world.
Ken appeared even stiffer than usual. Miranda found out only yesterday that it was Ken behind that gray full-face mask. She was still beating herself up for failing to notice that Mr. Amazing was a friend from high school. They had worked together for well over a year, and it never crossed her mind. She wanted to blame Fantastic Man’s influence, his stubborn insistence on firm boundaries between super and civilian lives. He wouldn’t even let Miranda tell him her first name when she introduced herself. To Fantastic Man, she never had any identity other than Ultra Woman, and Miranda had only just learned he was a dentist named Dane Reynolds—Alyssa’s boss, as it turned out.
Blaming Fantastic Man was easy. But the truth was that Miranda failed to notice the obvious. The evidence glowed in hindsight.
“What’s on your mind?” Miranda asked, keeping her voice low.
“A lot,” Ken said, also speaking quietly. “You trust this man? Alyssa wasn’t able to read his mind—said she was just getting static.”
Miranda had hoped that Alyssa could provide light telepathic vetting. “I wouldn’t be here if not for him,” she said. “Alyssa either.”
“I understand, and I’m grateful for that. It’s just …”
They both knew it. Too good to be true. But how could something be “too good”? Did “good” have upper limits, and was there a universal law that prohibited exceeding these limits? Ken could raise tremendous weights using only his brain. Miranda could raise even greater weights using her skinny arms, and she could also outrace sound. Both could fly. But “too good” was where reality drew the line?
“Yeah, it’s weird,” Miranda said. “But we need his experience, especially now.”
They weren’t even a quarter-century old, which was awfully young to serve as the world’s only two superheroes. Carey looked to be a seasoned mid-forties. Miranda felt like a kid next to him, more so than she ever had next to Fantastic Man.
“You’re probably right,” Ken said, watching Carey absorb the headlines. “But how much do you want to let him in?”
Carey’s presence was the only reason they were both in full costume. Miranda had never felt more self-conscious wearing the domino mask and hiding behind the face-altering illusion it cast. According to Carey, it made her resemble a young Dame Disaster, the original owner of this emerald-and-scarlet costume and its bird-of-prey insignia.
The Golden Gladiator had pursued the villainous Dame Disaster into this dimension a couple of years earlier, and their arrival altered the nature of this reality, making super-powers possible here for the first time. The Golden Gladiator had died even before he crashed onto Warner Pinkney’s property. Miranda watched Dame Disaster die a few months later, and acquired her own powers during that encounter. And Pinkney stole the armor and became Doctor Hades.
Ken lowered his voice to the faintest whisper. “He believes he’s a clone of the original Golden Gladiator?”
“Or that the other one was a clone.”
The blank face stared across the room as Carey remained engrossed in his reading. “That should bother him.”
“Should it? Everything’s different on his world.” Miranda envied the simplicity of that other world, the clarity. She wouldn’t mind experiencing some of that herself.
Those hidden eyes now turned to her. “How are you doing, though? That whole thing with Alyssa …”
Miranda had avoided thinking about that. She needed to avoid thinking about it whenever Alyssa was within mind-reading range. Alyssa wasn’t here, but Miranda couldn’t be certain she wasn’t telepathically eavesdropping.
Carey rose from his chair at that moment, saving Miranda from needing to respond. A tear rolled down his face.
“You still have war in this world.” He spoke with no judgment, just sympathy and sadness. “And people murder each other and actually get away with it? Corrupt politicians get into office—they’re not all caught on the campaign trail?” Carey glanced back at that computer like he had just found a neglected puppy. “I’ve encountered that on alien planets and when I’ve time-traveled, but never on present-day Earth. There’s so much wrong with your world. I’m not pointing any fingers—I know there’s only been a few of you. But this world really needs superheroes.”
Miranda agreed. She wished she could be the superhero the world needed, but she only ever felt like she was playing the role—while dressed in a supervillain’s costume, no less. She wondered how much of Dame Disaster Carey saw in her.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“A lab, for starters. Since I may be here a while, common courtesy dictates I make myself useful. And for that, I’m going to need some new armor.” He eyed the pile of dull scrap metal against the wall—the neutralized remnants of his original armor, which Miranda had come to know as Doctor Hades’s armor. Carey spoke through a clenched jaw. “Might be prudent to tweak the design. But I’m keeping it golden.”
Earlier, when Miranda explained how a surge of extradimensional power banished Fantastic Man, Cadelaria Luna, and Warner Pinkney to some unknown alternate dimension, Carey repeated the final name with unmistakable contempt. “Pinkney. The lowlife who used my armor to kill.” Carey had wrinkled in what looked like hatred. Miranda didn’t realize a purely good superhero was capable of such an emotion. She had decided the blatant travesty of justice was what truly riled him up.
Now a similar look again flickered across his eyes and accentuated his veins.
Different world. He’s not like us. “We might be able to hook you up with a lab,” Miranda said. “Do you want to keep a secret identity while you’re here?”
“I’ve got one at home, but I suppose there’s no real point on this world. Any time the armor’s off, people can call me Carey. I think that’ll do.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Miranda reached for her mask. “Then I think it’s only fair …”
“You sure about this?” Ken asked.
He can’t see Dame Disaster every time he looks at me. “I trust him. You absolutely do not have to, though.”
Miranda peeled her mask off. Red hair shifted to brunette, and her face became rounder and more youthful. Even her eyes changed shape and color—changed to her real eyes, those of a petite actress who didn’t feel the least bit qualified to serve as one of the world’s only superheroes.
“In private, you can call me Miranda. Just don’t tell anyone, please.”
Carey gave a warm smile. “I appreciate the show of trust.” He added quickly, “But no pressure on you, Mr. Amazing. I would never pry into another superhero’s secret identity.”
Miranda winced, realizing she had inadvertently put pressure on Ken. “Really. It’s okay.”
Ken hesitated, then pulled his mask off and sucked in a long breath. His dark hair was a mess. “I’m Ken. In private.”
“Outside of these walls, my lips are sealed,” Carey said. “Pleasure to properly meet you both, Miranda, Ken. Now …” He flashed that confident, reassuring grin. “… let’s get to work.”
Next: The Riddle of the Puzzler (Read the first part here.)