A Man and a God

There was a man and a god.

We begin our story in the past. When both tried to hide what they were.

Now. Then. They’ve always tended to blend together after a while.

Journal of the White Stag, day 675

We fought another alien monstrosity today. I didn’t contribute much, most of us were basically cheerleaders. It was War Woman and the Inevitable that took out that thing. This is the third one this month. Speed Striker suggested we formed a coalition of superheroes, to better respond to these threats. Decision passed unanimously. First meeting this Saturday, at 7 in the afternoon.

Journal of the White Stag, day 677

Besides the five of us who were there on Thursday, Galaxy Guard actually invited one of the new guys, who goes by Cytherean. We’re calling ourselves the Stellar Six, and they’ve elected me as chairman. But honestly, I don’t know how well this coalition will go. But really, unpredictability is a part of life, isn’t it?

Journal of the White Stag, day 701

I’m proud. Very proud. After those years we spent running around chaotically, we’ve finally managed to get an ordered system together. This coalition has been a major success, and we’ve even been talking about expansion!

Avery Holmwood sat in his reclining chair, trying to sleep. As CEO of a major corporation, he almost never had any time to himself anymore. Turned out insomnia didn’t discriminate between the rich and the poor.

And… it was three o’clock already. His wife would be just arriving from Paris, so trying to get a bit of shut-eye would have to wait. As he sat up in his chair, he heard the sound of her jet landing on their private airstrip.

“Mainframe, turn on Stellar City News.” The television screen flashed on instantly. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well catch up on recent events.

Besides the usual politics, superheroics, and politically motivated superheroics, one event caught Avery’s eye. Recently, an invitation had arrived, for a superhero summit in Stellar City Center. Apparently, Max Lift had invited everyone.

Samara walked through the hall next to the study. “I thought you were trying to sleep,” she said. “No rest for the wicked?” Avery stood up to greet her. “Says the recovering super villain,” he muttered playfully.

“I can be your recovering wife, too, if you want.” she responded, kissing his cheek. “Are you going to go to the Stellar Summit they’re holding today at City Center?” Samara gestured towards the TV screen, broadcasting about the event.

“No,” Avery frowned. “I’m retired from superheroics, and they don’t need me. Crusader’s the chairman now, I’m not going to muscle back into his territory.” He looked down at the picture frame on the wall, of the original six. Just three years ago.

Those had been simpler times, when they hadn’t gotten involved in politics yet, when heroism wasn’t about making a statement.

Journal of the White Stag, day 248

I was fighting the Bizarre Man again, that guy who keeps turning everything he touches into something out of Alice in Wonderland. He had turned a weathervane into a giant spoon, and decided that it was an effective combat weapon. And it somehow was. I got knocked off the rooftop, and I thought I was done for.

All of a sudden, I got swooped up back onto the building. In a flash, the Bizarre Man was knocked out on the floor. I had thought Speed Striker got access to hover tech again, but the sight of a man with a cape floating in the air nearby silenced that thought.

I remembered Grassman mentioning something about a new guy in town. He was apparently more powerful than the Inevitable. The guy, “Maximum Lift”, saluted to me from the air, and flew away, just as quickly as he came. I’m not sure if I trust this guy.

Journal of the White Stag, day 253

We beat up Anzur the Answerer again this week, so Max, Checkerbox, the Inventor, and I went out for drinks. Leonardo brought us to this obscure tavern in the Czech Republic, so we just went along with whatever he ordered. It’s getting harder not to like Max as I get to know him. He just seems so… nice. Genuinely nice.

Journal of the White Stag, day 378

Today, I saved a teenage boy from some muggers, not much else on patrol. Strangely, he told me I was his idol. He claimed that it was because I was “so much cooler”, and when I asked him why I was cooler than my colleagues, he told me exactly why. He said that the other heroes were “too nice”, and if Max Lift was “as dark as me”,  he would be better liked. Hm. Need to work on reinventing my reputation.

Journal of the White Stag, day 1023

I've been talking with the Inevitable, about his history. He claims that he’s been stuck in an egg for five thousand years, after his enemies imprisoned him. He doesn’t remember much before that. I didn’t push, but he’s hiding something, and it’s not just about his past.

Journal of the White Stag, day 1045

I’ve done some research. The Inevitable originally awoke during the Cold War, not the modern day like he claimed. I’ve found reports of a “flying Bolshevik” among old Vietnam veterans. This could be bad if it got out, but I’ll keep his secrets.

Journal of the White Stag, day 1843

The Inevitable wrote a letter to Marx, a long time ago, offering support for his ideas. Someone found it. The media has gone crazy, and Galaxy Guard called an emergency meeting. Vote to remove the Inevitable, went 3-2. He’s leaving for good.

Journal of the White Stag, last 1844

The Inevitable volunteered for an experimental mission into an alternate dimension. It’s suicide, and he knows it. I’m no longer talking to Promethea and Galaxy Guard, and public opinions on superheroes are at an all-time low. I’m tired of all this. The White Stag is dead.

“Oh drat, another partycrasher.” Samara said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Was I really that moronic when I fought against you and your friends?” The newscaster was now talking about a superhero battle going on above the Stellar City Center.

“You know how it is.” Avery responded, “If there’s any public event involving any superhero, there’ll be villains there too. People like seeing them fighting, anyway.”

“I can’t believe my father used to do that,” Samara admitted. “Honestly, I think he always just wanted atte- Checkerbox!”

Avery looked around. “What? Where?” He turned around, spotting a red and black patterned man floating outside of the window. Though in his bloodied state, he looked much more red than black.

Avery quickly unclasped the window, and let Checkerbox in. The man spat blood onto the floor, and immediately collapsed onto the floor.

“Checkers, who was it?” Avery asked. “The Gamespace should have absorbed your wounds. Was it Dr. Diabolus? Red Doom?”

Checkerbox gurgled another mouthful of blood. “It… it was Ma-”

A single shot hit him in the back of his head.

Another man entered from the window, this time uninvited.

Excerpts from Legend of the Stag, a White Stag documentary

 

''“We called Max Lift a Boy Scout because of his values, but White Stag was always the real Boy Scout. He was always prepared. He always had our backs. Back in the early days, his equipment wasn’t really on par with him now, but there was always this respect we all had for him, not like the flying invincible heroes. He was just a normal guy, who wanted to help out.”''

-Grassman, Superhero

 

''“I remember one time, years ago. It was one of those alien invasions that happens every year, you know? Max Lift and the other heavy hitters hadn’t gotten all of them, and one of those aliens landed on my site. And White Stag appeared, and he was all like, ‘get behind me’, and he did a flip, and grabbed that alien’s gun, and took it out. I owe him my life. He was the real hero.”''

-Jonah Allen, Construction Foreman

“Superhero number 23, dead.” the armored murderer noted coldly. “Enchantments bought from the Dealer have proven useful, Gamespace is not responding to host.” Then he saw Avery. “Hmm. Numbers  24 and 25, DNA match is correspondent with Periclymenus Project samples of retired White Stag and reformed Jailbird.”

Avery slowly reached into his desk, taking out a small throwing star. Carefully aiming at an unprotected spot on the killer’s armor, a small gap between two adjacent plates on the left leg, he shot to cripple.

The armored man easily knocked the throwing star out of the air.

“Superhero number 24 is attempting hostility. X-Ray scans picked up on concealed weaponry moments before, tactical computer plotted optimal defense in 0.0875 seconds. Mm. Samara Freeman Holmwood, as you have never officially acted as a superhero, I offer you one chance of surrender.”

“**** you,” Samara responded. “I was taught by the Chaos Monks of Xijing, you can’t intimidate me with your computers.” She didn’t hesitate in leaping towards the armored man.

He casually stepped five feet out of the way. Samara landed gracefully near him, quickly attempting a strike at him. “No.” The killer shot another bullet from his staff into the side of her head.

She crumpled onto the ground, too slowly to be real, to quickly to be believable.

“Hm. Tactical computer predicted trajectory of jump in 0.0034 seconds, and aiming computer plotted direct headshot in 0.0572. Shot unsuccessful in immediate kill, though tactical computer promises permanent brain damage in 12 minutes if first aid is not applied. Will have to upgrade, possible research into keywords ‘Chaos Monks’ and ‘Xijing’.”

Avery laughed. It was a hollow, mirthless sound. Really, did someone try to use computers to try to kill him, to try to kill his wife, in his home? “Mainframe, EMP. And call a med chopper here.”

A split second later, the two men were on even footing. Another split second later, and the billionaire had the armored attacker pinned onto the ground, slightly left of Checkerbox’s body.

“Silence your monologue in future updates.” Said Avery. “Now, who do you work for, mercenary?”

The man laughed, as if it was all a joke, 23 deaths.

“Max Lift.”

“They say that evil is not always readily observable, that if you go down far enough, it’ll always be there. I’ve always tended to agree. Eventually, if you go deep enough into every ocean, you’ll come to a place where you can’t see. Where there is nothing but darkness and that which lives within it.”

-Dr. Diabolus, supervillain

Neighborhood in Los Angeles in destroyed, everything lost, says residents
LOS ANGELES- Just yesterday, local superhero Marathoner confronted supervillain Rancher in a fierce battle in densely populated Los Angeles, killing dozens, and destroying thousands of dollars worth of property. Residents say they have lost everything, from their family and property, to their neighborhood and security. “If these so-called “heroes” don’t care about us, then what of the rest of the world?” says Phillip Tharis, 42. The worst part? This happens all over the world, every day, says superhero consultant Mark Ural. cont. LOS ANGELES, Page 3

''I sat down at Hero Hall today, and I just talked to Maximum Lift. War Woman had asked me to check out as many heroes as I could, but Max was the only one who made an appointment. ''

''He told me about his heat vision, how his eyes glow red, and how it’s so natural for him. I can’t imagine the willpower he needs to resist using it. But as I talked with him, I got the impression that he was hiding something. Beneath this disguise of a benign and righteous god, there was something hidden, a darkness. ''

 

I think a few loose straws in his fragile psyche could make his world come crashing down, and our world with it.

-notes of Dr. Fredrick Johnston, superhero psychologist

A blow to the head had knocked out the man Mainframe had identified as Phillip Tharis, a former special operative.

Quick first aid ensured that Samara would hopefully be alright when the time the medical chopper arrived. He was not sure about afterwards.

Avery slid the picture of the Stellar Six aside, revealing a holding safe behind it. In it, he retrieved a set of argent armor. This was the White Stag.

Behind it was a keycard, opening the door to the basement. There was the White Stag.

The news had begun to show more details about the superhero battle over the City Center. Max Lift had already weeded the Stellar Six into Three, with only Crusader and Cytherean left to fight him.

As Avery walked briskly down to the lower levels of his mansion, he called out to the artificial intelligence in the building. “Mainframe, call in everybody you can. The Supernatural Six, the Stellar Sons, Interstellar, anybody in the Stellar Society, the Cowboys, the Renaissance, the Freelance Force, heck, even the byronians on the Heavyweights. Anybody.”

“ 434 of those contacted are currently in combat. 189 are deceased in the last 24 hours. 72 are otherwise unreachable. Only 3 are available. All three of them are too far away to be useful reinforcements.” The disembodied voice of Mainframe responded robotically. “Would you like me to re-enter my physical android bodies to assist you, in proxy of your colleagues?”

“Of course, Mainframe.” Avery reached the large metal doors concealing the stairs to the basement. After using the keycard, the doors swung open. Behind them was the White Stag.

As he climbed down the stairs, the display cases came into view. As chairman of the Stellar Six, he had also been the trophy keeper, safekeeping all the relics from their adventures. In truth, he had only passed on a small part of the collection to Crusader.

“Mainframe, get me Anzur the Answerer’s Finalizer Gun, Pelican’s hoverpack, Shield Guardian’s force field generator, Game Hunter’s power tracker and.. Let’s say Quantum King’s Molecular Decay Rifle, for good measure.”

Avery slipped on the silver mask he had avoided for so long. He was the White Stag.

Stellar Six Official Membership Records

Original Six

White Stag, the Inevitable, War Woman, Speed Striker, the original Galaxy Guard, and the Cytherean

Second Six

White Stag, the Inevitable, Promethea, Speed Striker, the second Galaxy Guard, and Technomancer

Third Six

Crusader, Maximum Lift, War Woman, Rapid Fire, the fourth Galaxy Guard, and Technomancer

Fourth Six

Crusader, Maximum Lift, War Woman, the second Speed Striker, the fourth Galaxy Guard, and the original Cytherean

Fifth Six

Maximum Lift, Promethea, Dr. Theurge, Checkerbox, Grassman, Rapid Fire, and the Inventor

Current Six

Crusader, Maximum Lift, Promethea, the original Speed Striker, the second Galaxy Guard, and Technomancer

Hall of Legends Members

White Stag,  War Woman, Galaxy Guard, Speed Striker, and the Cytherean

As Avery looked around the empty graveyard that had been City Center, he realized how inactive he had been in the superhero community. There were so many faces he had never spoken to, and now would never speak to. The Electrician. Evolutionary Man. Jungle Boy. Foxtrot, Rebound, Mechane, and Rapid Fire.

Just as painful were the bodies of people he had known well, even after the souring of their relationships by the exile of the Inevitable.

Grassman, always the comedian, Speed Striker, who’d raced bullet trains for fun, Crusader, who had been stoic and detached, but could never resist a strategy game. Even his old enemy, Technomancer, who had defected to their side to make up for a lifetime of wrongdoing.

“You really came here alone, Stag?” a taunting voice emanated from the shadows of the building, “I’d think you smarter than that, after you defeated Phillip back at your mansion.”

Avery adjusted the settings on his mask, turning on night vision. The speaker was nowhere to be found. “Mainframe, where is he?”

“Please specify. I have identified 24 sentients in your proximity.”

Avery adjusted his mask for heat-sensing.

Then more soldiers started appearing.

Where logic fails, science continues
Dear Director Martins, 

 

''We were wrong. Maximum Lift was not helping us. He has gathered the Typhon test volunteers, and they have destroyed our facility. He is coming for the heroes. We played God, and in turn, a god played us. In Hell we shall be judged for our arrogance. ''

God save us all, 

Dr. Chadwick Willow

“The problem with great power is that most people can’t handle great responsibility.”

-Frederick Cranston, superhuman psychologist

“Mainframe, engage.” Seventeen Super-Ion androids flew out of the sky, each one targeting a different super-soldier in the crowd. Avery took the opportunity to slip past them, and activated Pelican’s hoverpack.

A body fell past him.

Of the attendance list of the Superhero Summit, and their respective power levels, Avery had guessed that the only remaining heroes would be Promethea, the Cytherean, and War Woman. War Woman could now be taken from the list.

Pelican’s hoverpack wasn’t made for high altitudes, and started ascending slower than before. As Avery flew up through the clouds, on that impossibly perfect summer day, the Cytherean fell past him.

As he finally arrived at where Game Hunter’s tracker had led him, he saw who he was looking for.

“Max Lift.”

''“You think the villains are scary? Their demonic laugh. The death rays, and world domination? You think mercenaries are scary? Not having a cause or an attachment? How about the anti-heroes, then? I’ve heard Executioner is popular, this time of year. ''

But you know what I’ve found?

 

Nothing is more disturbing than the mind of a superhero.”

''-Dr. Diabolus, formerly Dr. Frederick Johnston, psychologist''

Max Lift ripped off the head of Promethea casually, as if her life was a toy. Throwing it at the earth like a baseball, he let her body fall behind it.

“Avery. I was wondering when the real threat was going to get here.” Max Lift smirked uncharacteristically. “There are exactly six people who have ever been as strong as me. Red Doom’s in quarantine, Inevitable and Sovereign are dead, High Sentient’s stuck in limbo, and Constellation is in prison. None of them could defeat me. You…”

Max Lift looked towards Stellar City below. “You were the only one who ever could, who ever would. I saw it the day I met you. You know why you were so popular? Because you were a human, playing with gods. I tried perfection, you know. But all the people did was tell me to change. They always liked you for your imperfections, and hated the rest of us for ours.”

Max held up his hand, still smeared with the blood of his colleagues. “How’s this for dark?”

“We always thought you were the strongest,” Avery responded, a mirthless smile on his face, “Who would have thought you would be the first to crack?”

Then his friend, now his enemy, Max chuckled, a long and throaty laugh.

“One last dance, for the ages?”

The world ended, in the reflection from a silver mask and the glowing eyes of an outsider.

Once, a human pretended to be a god, and a god pretended to be a man.

Can you tell me who was the man, and who was the god?