The Faceless Man, Part 1

Tutoring is hard.

Welcome to Olympus City, where super-powers, physics-defying tech, and unearthly creatures are all possible now. Human nature, however, remains unchanged.

No one is born a perfect superhero, but a few strive to live up to the ideal anyway.

Part 1

Vacant eyes were his nemesis.

Ken looked across the table, meeting the bored stare of his student, Aiden. Aiden didn’t want to be there; he never wanted to be there, especially not with the sun shining so brightly through the skylight window high above them. Ken had met with the sixteen-year-old at the Athena Branch Library every Thursday after school for the past two months to help him turn his U.S. history grades around. The kid wasn’t dumb, just didn’t want to apply himself, didn’t understand why he should even bother, didn’t even see the point of smiling once in a while.

All Ken needed to do was drill the facts into Aiden’s head so that he could pass his final exam and pull at least a C for the year. But that struck Ken as merely a short-term solution, a bandage to cover up the root issue.

The joy of learning was right there. Aiden just hadn’t noticed it yet. Maybe if he ever got a haircut, he could see through those thick bangs and discover how fascinating history could be.

“In 1783, King George said of George Washington, ‘If he does that, he will be the greatest man in the world.’ What was he referring to?”

Aiden shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Take a guess,” Ken said patiently, leaning back in his chair, keeping his voice low out of respect for the library setting. “Think about what was happening in 1783.”

For several seconds, Ken heard nothing except scratching pens, shuffling papers, and whispering from adjacent tables. Lots of teenagers were studying for finals, and Ken wasn’t the only tutor at work tonight. He wondered how smoothly those other sessions were going.

Finally, Aiden answered, “He won the war?”

“America did win the Revolutionary War in 1783. You’re on the right track. Now what did Washington do after the war was over?”

“Became president?”

“That was several years later, after the Constitution was ratified. Think about what people expected Washington to do right after winning the war for American independence. What could a successful general do that would astonish a king?”

A wheel squeaked as a librarian pushed a cart of books down an aisle.

“I don’t know,” Aiden finally said. “You tell me.”

“I won’t be able to tell you when you’re taking your exam.”

Aiden stared blankly at him. If Ken were standing in front of a classroom, this would be when he’d ask if anyone else wanted to volunteer an answer. But Ken had decided against full-time teaching even before he acquired other obligations. Despite years of certainty, when it came time to commit, Ken decided he wasn’t the right fit.

But he hadn’t committed to quitting education altogether either, so he became a freelance tutor. He could work with kids one at a time, help their teachers fill in some gaps, be the supporting player. He was getting used to supporting roles.

“Washington resigned his army commission,” Ken said. “Why do you think King George found that remarkable?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think about it. Do you find it remarkable at all?”

“Not really. Dude probably needed a break before becoming president.”

Ken reminded himself not to get frustrated. This was a learning opportunity.

“But remember, the Constitution didn’t exist at that point,” he said. “George Washington, in 1783, had never heard of the office of the president as we know it, because no one had created it yet. So, a successful revolutionary general voluntarily returned to civilian life. He had as much power as anyone in this new country, and he gave it up.”

Aiden squinted slightly. Ken, hopeful, took that as evidence of thinking.

“He didn’t give up his slaves, though,” Aiden said.

At last. A thought. I can work with this. Ken took a breath before responding, wanting to get this right.

But then the skylight shattered as a young woman in green tights and a scarlet cape crashed through. Any hope of recovering the lesson lay equally shattered.

Miranda caught herself midway between the ceiling and tables while Ken caught the plummeting glass shards. Stopping each piece individually would have required more concentration than he could muster in an instant, so he instead envisioned his telekinesis as an invisible blanket sweeping up and collecting everything, then tossing it all onto the roof.

No one saw him do this. He merely wiggled his fingers as he applied the telekinetic force. In fact, his power required no physical maneuvering at all, but he found gesturing aided his focus. He kept promising himself that he would break this habit, but he never seemed to get around to it.

Miranda floated lower, surveying the various individuals whose library visit she interrupted. Whenever she wore that mask and costume, the world knew her as Ultra Woman. After nearly two years, Ken still hadn’t gotten used to the illusion that altered Miranda’s face, making Ultra Woman appear as an entirely different person. Of course, all of this was quite a change from their high school days.

“So sorry about that. Is everybody okay here?” Miranda asked, appearing every bit the natural as a superhero.

Ken glanced around. People were startled, but their surprise was already giving way to excitement.

“I think so,” he called up. “Are you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m sure Mr. Amazing will be along any minute to help out. But I hope everyone here has a pleasant evening. Remember to thank your librarians for all their hard work!”

In a blur of motion, Miranda disappeared through the broken skylight. Ken turned to check on his student, only to find the kid gazing up at the jagged glass. A faint smirk had spread across his face, the closest thing to a smile Ken had seen yet. It was indeed a feat only Ultra Woman could pull off.

“I think that’s about all we’re going to get done today,” Ken said. “Go to the lobby and wait for your mother. I’ll see if the library staff needs any help cleaning up. And make sure you keep studying. I know you can pass this test—if you put the work in.”

“Yeah, sure.” Aiden glanced at the skylight one more time before leaving.

Ken quickly gathered his books and notebooks into his bag and hurried toward the back entrance, which led to a small parking lot. Ken had no need for a car, though. He hustled into the alley between the library and the neighboring museum. A quick glance confirmed he was alone, so he flew up to the museum’s roof, lifting himself with his telekinesis.

The second he landed, he unbuttoned his collared shirt, revealing a large, ruby letter A against dull gray tights. He didn’t always wear the Mr. Amazing costume under his clothes, as that was seldom a comfortable arrangement, and even less so as the weather heated up. But this late in the day, he needed to be ready.

Slipping his shirt off, Ken freed his cape—also gray. It fluttered in the wind while he pulled his mask out of his bag. The mask, too, was gray. Except for the A symbol, he kept everything gray. Muted and low-key, just as he preferred. Miranda was born for the spotlight. Before disappearing, Fantastic Man practically was a spotlight, thanks to his bizarre powers. Ken preferred to station himself adjacent to the spotlight.

He slipped the mask on, which shrouded his entire head and depicted no facial features, not even eye holes. He could see out, but no one could see in. If Mr. Amazing was going to remain anonymous, not having a face seemed like a practical approach. Unfortunately, the full covering made it harder to enjoy the fresh air while flying on a nice day, and things could get a bit stuffy in there after a while.

Ken stashed his clothes in his bag, then stuck the bag in a corner of the roof. This had induced considerable anxiety the first several times he needed to change into Mr. Amazing. After all, he was about to leave his wallet, keys, and phone behind for any wandering soul to come and steal. Fortunately, as he soon realized, people tended not to wander onto nonresidential rooftops too often.

Ascending into the air, he kept an eye out for whoever or whatever tossed Miranda through the skylight. Two seconds later, he found a large transparent bubble hurtling toward him. Inside the bubble was a pudgy teenage boy, scowling as seriously as humanly possible.

Ken bobbed. As the bubble sailed over his head, he pushed up with his telekinesis, hitting the unnatural sphere like he was playing an unorthodox volleyball game. Miranda swooped in and kicked it even higher.

“I take it that’s the guy?” Ken asked.

“One of two. You take him. I’ve got the girl.”

The girl was stepping from roof to roof, requiring only a few steps apiece, a feat made possible due to the fact that she was fifty feet tall. Sporting a goth fashion sense, she looked close in age to the bubble boy.

“What do they want?” Ken asked.

“They were terrorizing some bankers, but I think we can give them better targets.”

Miranda flew at the girl, evaded her attempts to swat her, then slipped in closer, at which point the girl separated into several ten-foot-tall duplicates of herself, all of whom swarmed the superhero.

The bubble boy, meanwhile, rocketed straight toward Ken.

Ken maneuvered to intercept, imagining his telekinesis as an oversized catcher’s mitt. The bubble barreled forth at an impressive velocity, and the kid within looked as determined as ever. Ken held his position, despite every instinct demanding he drop away. He could do this; he just needed to maintain total concentration and push his mental energy against that bubble.

The bubble hit the telekinetic force and slowed, though the momentum drove Ken backward. He and the boy were aligned face to face, separated by an arm’s length.

“Can we talk about this?” Ken asked, floating slowly backward.

The boy did not respond. He just pushed forward, glaring at Ken with utter contempt. The boy wore no mask or costume, just ordinary clothes that any middle-class teenager might wear.

Ken tried again. “Do you have a name?”

“Names are dumb.”

An opening. He took it. “Why are names dumb? Everyone has a name.”

“No, your names. Mr. Amazing. Ultra Woman. Who calls themselves that?”

“I do. That first one, anyway.”

Ken continued pushing and continued losing ground to the office skyscraper behind him.

“Yeah, well, your whole thing is dumb,” the kid said. “And we’re going to show everyone just how dumb you are, especially without your leader.”

Another one of those. All sorts of super-powered criminals had come out of hiding to challenge the remaining two-thirds of the Terrific Trio and see how tough they were without Fantastic Man. Ken already found it tedious.

He glanced back and estimated a hundred feet before they hit the building.

“I also thought Fantastic Man seemed a little silly at first,” he said. “But I understand now. When we have powers like we do, we can’t just do whatever we want. We have to restrain ourselves in some way. And striving to live up to the ideal of a superhero is—”

A thick blue laser pounded Ken and knocked him sideways. He tumbled through the air, spots encroaching on his vision. Finding a rooftop, he pulled himself toward it and crashed, rolling side over side a few times before coming to a stop.

He wanted to lie there a moment and catch his breath. But that wasn’t an option. The laser didn’t come from the bubble. Had to be a third attacker. Another kid, he feared.

The bubble swooped in and slammed down on Ken. He blunted the impact by pushing back with his telekinesis, but it hurt, nevertheless. That bubble was solid.

It slammed down again, but this time Ken rolled out of the way. The rooftop cracked where it struck.

Another boy leapt onto the far side of the roof. A phenomenal leap, far beyond human norms. He brushed the thick bangs away from his eyes.

It was Aiden. His eyes were no longer vacant, and his hands were glowing.

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