Make A Wish
J.J. Polson
(Four parts. 4000 words.)
One
Only fools walked into traps. Fortunately, the Brave was the biggest fool of them all.
Avon Carrier had singlehandedly ridded the world of four of its top five Heroes, which was by no means a small feat. Normally, Villains dedicated their entire purpose to slaying only one Hero, failing far more often than not. Avon’s mind set him apart from the rest. His genius had left only one man standing between him and world domination.
“The agreement is ironclad,” Joan said, referencing the contract the Foundation had provided. The lawyer had recently cut her blonde hair short and always wore a tailored black suit. A normal man would have found her attractive, perhaps a touch intimidating.
“Has he agreed to it?”
The lawyer nodded. “Both the Foundation and the Brave have met all of your demands.”
Avon scratched at the patch of hair residing on his chin in thought. The top Hero and top Villain had been in a state of constant war for over three years, each side narrowly escaping death on countless occasions.
As much as he hated to admit it, their powers were evenly matched.
This wish was the most promising gambit Avon had undertaken in months. There was nothing that would get under the Brave’s skin more than watching his rival play hero to a sick child. The Hero would feel obligated to take action, but the agreement would prevent it. One false move and the Brave would be exposed for the fraudulent idol he was. The Hero would be so focused on his resulting inner turmoil that he would never see his end coming.
The snare had been set. Soon, the Brave would be dead. The child would likely meet the same fate, but that didn’t matter. Sacrifices had to be made in the name of progress after all.
Lowering his sunglasses, Avon signed the contract, then rose and made his way to the wide window. “As soon as you hear word of the Brave’s demise, set the lawsuits in motion. I want control of this world before the sun sets.”
“As you wish, Mr. Carrier.”
Avon smirked as he looked upon the bustling city spread before him. Once the Brave had been defeated, it would all belong to him. Without the protection of their beloved Hero, the leaders of the world would be forced to adhere to his demands to spare the general population.
Victory was only a matter of time.
*
An hour later, Avon exited his bulletproof SUV and approached the quaint hospital’s main entrance. The handful of reporters he had invited waited alongside a squadron of armed police. Just as he had anticipated, a crowd of self-centered civilians surrounded them. Word spread fast. If the Brave was not already watching, he soon would be.
Naturally, the reporters shied away as he reached the glass doors. Those in the hospital were even more respectful, abandoning the white hallways and locking doors as he passed. The nurse who had been assigned to lead him to the child had simply handed over a crude map with a shaking hand.
Avon had expected nothing less.
The Villain laughed as he neared the child’s room. The Brave stood protectively in front of the dull door, his signature red suit pressed tight against his toned flesh. Beneath his mask, familiar blue eyes regarded Avon with disdain.
“Come to wish me luck, Hero?”
The other man frowned. “What game are you playing, Carrier? Using children against me?”
The Villain raised his hands innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The boy requested a visit from me … his idol.”
“Don’t lie to me,” the Brave valiantly retorted. “You made him do this!”
“Touch me and become what you despise,” Avon smiled murderously. He pulled the contract from his jacket pocket and waved it before the masked man. “I have your word that I will not come to harm here. The boy has chosen to spend one of his precious few remaining days with me, and we will not be disturbed.”
The Hero took a deep breath. “I’ll be watching to ensure no harm comes to the boy.”
“As if I’d harm a child. Do you really think so low of me?”
“Yes.”
Avon shrugged; his reputation had been earned. “Step aside, Hero.”
Once the Brave had glided away from the door, Avon turned the knob and entered. The room was not at all what he had expected, plastered in posters depicting his most epic battles. An oversized model of the Hero List was painted above the bed, four of the names stricken through.
Still in shock, Avon hardly noticed as the child rose from the bed and embraced him.
“You actually came!” the boy exclaimed. “You look like just like I thought you would. How did you get so tall? How did you really defeat Cloudman? I’m Connor by the way. Did you fly over here? How did you outsmart…”
Avon tore his gaze away from a replica cardboard cutout standing in the corner. He couldn’t believe it – the child was actually his fan. He had never had a fan before. Was this how the Brave felt? Was this why he protected those who so clearly didn’t deserve it?
“Nice to meet you, kid,” the Villain managed to say, finally snapping free of his pitiful trance. To think he would let a foolish child distract him from what must be done. “I’ve prepared the best day imaginable to make your wish come true, Connor. There’s even a surprise at the end.”
The boy’s eyes went wide. “Are you finally going to defeat the Brave? I want to help!”
Avon smirked. “Perfect.”
Two
Panicked customers stampeded through the revolving door in an effort to escape as Avon Carrier approached the store. The Villain ignored them, entering through the manual door with the boy on his heels. A cheer rose from the frightened crowd as the Brave touched down on the pavement a moment later. Avon reveled in the heat of the Hero’s glare.
“Ah, Mr. Carrier,” the associate said as Avon approached. The balding man adjusted his glasses anxiously and examined the Villain’s black trench coat. “Just a cleaning then?”
“Actually, I want to buy one for the kid.” Avon gestured to the child beside him.
Connor’s jaw dropped in surprise. “My own Carrier coat? Are you serious?”
“Of course,” Avon replied, taking a thick-rimmed pair of sunglasses from the display and fitting them over the child’s pale features. The act was intended to hide the sunken and sickly nature of the boy’s eyes, but the glasses surprisingly suited him.
The associate laughed nervously, ushering the kid towards the fitting room. “Right this way. I will find a coat to your liking.”
Avon took a seat atop the glass counter and pulled the pistol from his waist. “Your red suit is getting rather ragged,” he observed, casually inspecting the weapon in the overhead light. “It’s good that you’re considering a change. I approve.”
The Brave turned from where he was browsing a rack of sleeveless jackets with fire in his blue eyes. “You won’t get away with this, Carrier. I won’t allow you to turn the boy into a monster!”
“He won’t be anything for much longer,” the Villain shrugged. “Only has a few days to live according to the paperwork. Can’t you just admit that I’m doing something good for once?”
The Hero growled. “You don’t fool me, Carrier. I know what you’re really up to – you’re planning to use the child to further our conflict.”
More like to end it…
Avon sighed. “Don’t you have other Villains to deal with today?”
He turned as Connor emerged with the anxious associate, hearing the distinctive flap of the Brave’s pointless cape as he disappeared. The jacket fit the boy perfectly. There was a reason Avon always shopped at the same store.
“I look just like you, Carrier!” Connor exclaimed. “When do we fight The Brave? I probably won’t even need your help anymore! I’m just like you now!”
The Villain scowled inwardly, wondering at the sudden emergence of pride. The boy was nothing more than a tool to finally eliminate his rival. Death would be a mercy for him. “Soon. First, we must make the Brave very angry.”
The boy clapped his hands together. “That sounds like fun!”
“Shall I bill the usual account, Mr. Carrier?” the associate interrupted.
Weapon raised, Avon scowled at the salesman, then concealed the gun with a laugh. “Everything is on the Foundation. Bill them going forward.”
Still cackling at his good fortune, Avon took the kid’s hand, led him past the perusing Hero and exited the store.
*
Outside of Monument Park, Avon opened the car door and helped the boy out, keeping one eye on the red dot circling high above. The Brave continued to act predictably. Forcing him to return to the sight of his greatest defeat would bring him near his breaking point.
“Wow!” Connor shouted as they walked between a pair of black-stone war memorials. “Are these really from the days before Heroes?”
The Villain shrugged. “They’re not what we’re here to see.”
Sudden revelation flashed across the boy’s pale features. “No way! You’re taking me to where you fought the Valiant Son! That’s so awesome!”
Avon was taken by surprise. “You … know about that?”
“Of course I do! I’ve watched that fight like a thousand times on the internet. You were like pow and he was like bam and you were like…”
Avon watched the boy as he preceded to recreate the epic battle held nearly two years before. He was actually quite the actor, more than capable of playing two roles at one.
The Valiant Son had been the Brave’s sidekick before venturing out on his own. Shortly after achieving the rank of fifth Hero, he had foolishly challenged Avon to a duel in an effort and end his former master’s blossoming feud.
Avon had shown him no mercy.
The Brave’s honor had forced him to watch from a distance. The top Hero had arrived in the last moment of the other Hero’s life, holding the Valiant Son in his arms as Avon escaped. The scene had been immortalized in stone – allegedly a symbol for the value of sacrifice.
The sound of his phone pulled Avon from his joyful memories. “What is it?”
“You said to call you before I activated the countdown,” the nasally voice of his henchman replied. “Do you want me to start it?”
Avon rolled his eyes, still half-watching the boy as he neared the end of the fight. “Have I assumed ownership of the city?”
“Well … no, boss.”
“Then start it.”
The bomb was insurance. If the world leaders refused to succumb after the Brave’s demise, the threat of destroying the city would leave them with little choice. With no one left to save them, they would be forced to sign over control to Avon.
“Excellent work,” Avon said as the boy finished the scene. “Let’s go see the statue.”
Once there, Connor studied the monument for a long moment, then turned the Villain. “Where are you, Carrier?”
“What do you mean?”
“They left you off! The Valiant Son was stupid. He demanded you fight him to the death after all! You had no choice but to respond. He lost! Why does he deserve a statue?”
Avon pursed his lips in thought. “I …” He found himself studying the sickly boy in his dark glasses and coat, still stunned that Connor actually saw him in a positive light. It was not something he was accustomed to. No one had ever seen his side of things before.
“It doesn’t matter,” the Villain replied. “Once we defeat the Brave, I’ll have plenty of statues.”
“You own statue? Will I get one too?”
Avon glanced over his shoulder to where the Brave looked on. Even from a distance, the Villain could see the angry tears streaming down the exposed part of his face. “Sure, kid. We got one last stop before we take him down.”
Connor flashed him a knowing smile. “Ice cream?”
Three
Phone buzzing, Avon stepped from the empty ice cream parlor. He waved at the Brave who had taken perch on a neighboring balcony. The red-suited Hero elected not to respond.
“Joan?”
“It’s the plan, Mr. Carrier,” his lawyer replied. “I have yet to receive confirmation of the Brave’s arrest or death.”
Avon turned at a knock on the glass and smiled at Connor. In spite of the Villain’s expectations, the boy had managed not to ruin his new coat. “There’s been a slight delay.”
“Even your money cannot keep me at the office all night, Mr. Carrier.”
“It will be done within the hour,” Avon promised. “Have the documents on standby. Have you informed the appropriate parties of the kid’s final event?”
“You know that I do, and you know that I have,” she replied before ending the call.
“Who was that?” Connor asked as the Villain reentered the small store. The remnants of chocolate ice cream coated his pale lips.
“Oh, just one the people who work for me,” Avon replied coolly. “We best hurry before our destination closes.” He walked to the counter and tossed a folded bill toward the petrified attendant. On his way back to the door, he grabbed a napkin and handed it to the boy, motioning to his mouth. “You’ll want to look the part, trust me.”
They arrived at the Great Bank a few moments later, the people on the busy sidewalk scrambling for shelter. Avon stopped before the towering stone building and allowed an array of delightful memories to filter through his mind.
“No way!” Connor exclaimed as they walked up the stairs. “Isn’t this where you first fought the Brave? We’re actually going inside?”
Avon smirked. He couldn’t help but be impressed and, oddly, a bit proud. “How do you know so much about me?”
“The internet. Duh! Everything you’ve ever done is on there, you just have to know where to look. Pictures, videos, expert analysis…”
Avon withheld a frown. Surely not everything.
Upon reaching the top stair, the Villain glanced back to make sure the Brave looked on. As anticipated, the Hero stood across the street at the head of a unit of police officers. More importantly, a small crowd of adventurous citizens had gathered in the distance with their phones at the ready, ever eager to self-promote.
Smirking, Avon pulled the prop pistol from his coat pocket and examined it in the light of the afternoon sun. It wasn’t made to actually fire bullets, but the Brave wouldn’t know that.
“Now,” Avon explained as he handed the gun to the boy, “promise me you won’t shoot anyone unless they actually deserve it.”
The boy lifted up his sunglasses and stared at the ‘weapon’ in awe. “Cool!”
Avon patted Connor on the shoulder. “Now, practice your aim as I go talk to the Brave. Make sure to keep the gun on him. Don’t fire unless I give the signal.”
Connor nodded in understanding. “Are we finally taking him down?”
“Yes,” the Villain smiled. “Now, remember. Don’t shoot unless I say so. No matter what happens to me. I’ll be fine.”
Calmly, Avon descended the stone steps and strolled onto the street. The Brave awaited him at the midway point, appropriately enraged.
“I won’t let you use that boy to rob a bank!” the Hero hissed. “More importantly, I won’t allow you to make him a criminal!”
Avon laughed. “Have you forgotten that you cannot touch me? You signed that right away to ensure the sick kid had one last great day.” He turned and motioned to where Connor stared down the sights of his prop pistol.
The Brave growled. “I didn’t agree to this. You’ve gone too far, Carrier! I won’t allow you to rob the Great Bank!”
“You can’t do anything about it.”
Avon delivered the line with a murderous gleam in his eye. He laughed as the Brave’s emotions got the best of him, and the Hero sent him sailing with a powerful punch.
It was exactly the reaction he had wanted. The only way to defeat the last Hero was to take his title away from him.
“Are you ok, Mr. Carrier?” the officer asked as Avon gingerly rose to his feet.
The Villain nodded, wiping the blood from his lip. He relished the image of the Brave surrounded by officers with his hands cuffed behind his back. Connor nodded at Avon from his place by his side, keeping his gun firmly on the former Hero.
Good kid.
“He was going to rob the bank!” the Brave protested. “He was using the kid to make sure I couldn’t do anything about it.”
Avon stepped triumphantly forward and looked his rival in the eye. “Everything was arranged. Both the Bank and the police knew about this stunt. It wasn’t a real robbery.”
The Hero’s jaw dropped. “Is this … is this true?”
“I’m afraid so,” the officer replied. “This was all for the Foundation. We thought that you knew about it, Sir.”
“You can’t arrest me!”
Avon pulled the copy of the agreement from his pocket and handed it to the officer. “You have to standby the terms you’ve agreed to, Hero.” He motioned to the crowd of onlookers. “Wouldn’t want to make this more of a scene by resisting arrest.”
The Hero sighed in reluctant acceptance. “You’ll pay for this, Carrier. When I get out–”
“It’ll be too late,” Avon said simply. “Come on kid, I got to get you back to the hospital.” He turned around, and his heart dropped. “Kid?”
Four
Avon paced outside of the hospital room. An assortment of doctors and nurses streamed through the door, seemingly unaware of his presence. He held the toy gun in one hand seeking some semblance of comfort, a storm of unfamiliar and unwanted emotions swirling in his chest.
What’s wrong with me?
The Brave had finally been defeated. Not just defeated but embarrassed and defamed. The struggle for the city would reach its end while the Hero was confined to a cell.
Yet…
The Villain answered his phone somberly. “Yeah?”
“Is that you, Carrier?” his lawyer asked.
“Who else would it be?”
“Never mind,” she replied curtly. “The city leaders have agreed to your terms – as long as you deactivate the bomb of course. Once that’s done, the city will belong to you.”
Avon sighed. “Thanks, Joan.”
“Cheer up, Carrier. You’ve won.”
The Villain hung up the phone and stared longingly through the small window into the hospital room. Joan was right – he had won. But for some reason, the victory felt hollow. What had Connor done to him? The whole experience had lasted only a few hours!
“He wants to see you.”
Turning, Avon found himself face to face with a middle-aged woman with tears in her eyes. A bland man in oversized glasses stood beside her, equally distraught. “He wants to … say thank you before…” She broke down in sobs as the man led her away.
Avon walked slowly into the room and took the seat by Connor’s bed. The black jacket hung from a nearby peg, and the sunglasses rested on the bedside tray. The steady beeping of machines echoed throughout the small room.
Connor opened his eyes and gave him a weak smile. “We did it. We defeated the Brave. Will you … cross off his name?”
Nodding, the Villain stood and marked through the last name remaining on the oversized list of Heroes. Then, he took the dark glasses and placed them on the boy’s face. “All thanks to you.”
“Promise me you’ll keep the city safe … that you’ll be the Hero I know you are.”
Avon glanced around the room filled with his likeness, taking in the posters, the cardboard cutouts and the replica leather jacket.
He wasn’t a Hero. Why did the kid believe that? It didn’t make any sense. He was a Villain, the greatest Villain, the Villain who now owned the city!
Still, he couldn’t break the kid’s heart, not so close to the end. “I promise, kid.” He took the toy gun from his jacket and placed it in Connor’s hand. “I’ll see you later, ok?”
The boy smiled. “Bye, Carrier.”
The Villain stood and made his way from the room, his emotions perilously close to the surface. A few steps from the door, a pair of nurses raced into the room with the kid’s parents on their heels.
Avon made it halfway down the empty hallway before taking a seat, wondering why he had let himself get so close to the boy. Attachments always led to the fall of those in power.
Clearing his throat, he dialed his henchman. “Deactivate the bomb. The code is–”
“I don’t think so, Carrier. This bomb is going off, and the city is going with it.”
It was the Brave.
*
The abandoned warehouse was surrounded by police. Barricades had been erected and portions of the population had begun evacuation. Pointlessly of course. Avon had ensured the bomb would destroy the entire city.
Officers ushered Avon through the frontlines as he exited his SUV with a heavy heart. Mind clouded, he heard only pieces of their chatter. Were they actually … asking for his help? Had they forgotten who had set the bomb in the first place?
Inside, the Brave stood before the ticking bomb, red suit partially concealed by a long leather jacket the color of blood. Avon’s henchmen were scattered about the Hero like undesirable parts from a stripped car. The lone remaining light strung across the ceiling of the warehouse flickered uncertainly.
Avon took a deep breath. He wasn’t in the mood for this. “What are you doing, Brave?”
“I thought you’d approve,” the Hero laughed. “After all these years, I’ve finally realized that you’ve been right all along!”
The Villain frowned, watching the digital clock ticking away in the background. On any other day, he would have been thrilled that the Hero had finally seen the light.
“It only took one moment for the city to turn on me,” the Brave explained in a crazed tone. “I was trying to prevent a robbery, trying to stop you from blackening the heart of a child. And what do I get in return? Arrested! Me! The man who has protected this city from countless evils. The man who has dedicated his life to justice!”
“That’s great, Brave,” Avon said softly. “Now, stand aside and let me deactivate the bomb. You don’t want to let everyone die. I know you better than that.”
“Why don’t you let your sidekick do it?”
Avon hung his head, his reply barely a whisper. “The kid is dead.”
“What was that? I can’t here you over the countdown, Carrier.”
The Villain growled. He removed his shades and pulled the gun from his jacket, no longer caring to conceal his watering eyes. “I said that the kid is dead. Now, get out of my way!”
“I don’t think so,” the Brave cackled. “This corrupt city deserves its fate. It took a child choosing you over me to finally make me understand. To think that he actually saw you as a Hero. I’m the Hero!”
Avon couldn’t believe it. The Brave had completely snapped. His plan had succeeded far beyond his wildest expectations – only, due to the circumstances, he couldn’t enjoy it.
Oh, the irony!
“Last chance,” the Villain said with renewed focus, raising his weapon.
As the Brave opened his mouth to respond, Avon fired.
The former Hero attempted to avoid the barrage of bullets with his usual burst of speed, but the resistance of his new crimson jacket slowed him just enough. He let loose a cry of agony as one of the bullets struck his leg and sent him crashing to the ground.
Avon stood over him a heartbeat later, barrel aimed at his masked face. “Not the way I had imagined it would end,” he admitted.
The Brave grinned. “Tick tock, Carrier. It’s either me or the bomb.”
The Villain glanced over his shoulders, eyes widening at the sight of the clock. He couldn’t allow the city to be destroyed – not when he had finally conquered it! With a flourish of leather, he raced to the interface and entered the code.
One second remained.
Avon turned back to finish the Brave only to find the other man back on his feet.
“This is far from over!” the former Hero shouted as he ascended into the air.
Avon emptied his clip in a last-ditch effort, but the Brave was gone, sunlight streaming through the hole in the roof left in his wake. Avon watched in silence as the red figure disappeared into the sky.
Frowning, the Villain retrieved his sunglasses and reloaded his gun. Was this how the Brave always felt? However, the feeling of defeat was quickly replaced by another … one that felt oddly like satisfaction. He had actually saved the city.
Well, it is my city after all.
Avon walked through the crowd of officers and stepped into his SUV without saying a single word, his thoughts on the boy that had changed everything.
Maybe the kid had been right. Maybe he was a Hero.
THE END