Metro Man -- Falling Apart -- Part 2
Metro Man got a few odd looks from people after going off on the teenager who ruined his lunch, insulted him and took an unflattering picture of him, but if the people who had witnessed the whole thing go down were outraged or scared out of their minds by what they saw and heard they didn’t let on.
After the unpleasantness surrounding his lunch hour the rest of the day was thankfully uneventful just your typical run of the mill bank robbing, a threat on a building downtown which turned out to be nothing to get excited about and various nagging requests for assistance from the helpless citizens of Metro City.
When Metro Man returned to his hideout at the end of the day he just wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head-which is exactly what he did. He just wanted the world to go away and leave him alone.
He couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him, but he had. He lost his cool and came damn close to punching the kid’s lights out. Metro Man dreaded what he regarded as the very real possibility of a public backlash against him and questions being raised about his ability to continue to be an objective and effective tool of law enforcement.
Maybe he was exaggerating and this was all in his head…but what if it wasn’t? The last time something like this had happened a nearby police officer had to talk him down telling him that the guy wasn’t worth it. That time he had come very close to doing something that would have put his career in serious jeopardy.
‘The one thing that is always true about public opinion is that it is always unreliable,’ Metro Man remembered his adopted father, Lord Scott often saying. One day you are regarded as the savior of the city’s economy courting new businesses and industries to come to Metro City while already established companies expand and the next you’re the scapegoat for all the city’s ills everything from: the high unemployment rate, scarcity of living wage jobs, the poor quality of education in public schools and corruption within the government and police department allowing the drug lords, pimps and human traffickers go about their activities unchecked.
From what he knew of his Father’s life, it didn’t exactly happen over night, but that is pretty much what happened. He knew at one time his Father had been a publicly respected figure among the leaders in business and industry, government officials and to a certain extent the general public. All of that started to change as businesses moved overseas where the labor is cheaper which had a ripple effect on every aspect of public life. In order to keep companies from leaving his Father lobbied for tax breaks and other incentives, but this all came at a cost. Although Metro City overall enjoyed a consistently lower unemployment level many of the jobs did not afford a living wage standard of life. The city’s poorest residents suffered the most due to various government programs being heavily limited and under funded in large part due to lower corporate and income tax rates. Ultimately the various companies continued to flee despite desperate pleas from the citizens and city government. As the economy spiraled downward the blame game started and accusations swirled that the tax breaks and subsidies were never really needed by the companies. That for them it was all about money and widening their already healthy profit margin.
As much as he hated to admit it Lord Scott did have a strong influence on him growing up. For one he taught him the value of keeping up appearances. Although his Father was not emotionally expressive by nature he could exude charisma, charm and even a smile when the occasion called for it. His Father never settled for second best and expected the same from his son. But first and foremost his Father was about control. Anytime he got upset, or sad his Father came down on him hard. ‘No one likes a cry baby,’ ‘stop sniveling’ and ‘crying is for losers.’ Even as an infant he possessed powers and abilities that should have made his Father wary of making him mad, but he didn’t back down and never budged once his mind was made up. When he asked his Father why it is that he always wins, that he always gets what he wants his Father replied: ‘It’s not the size of the dog that matters it’s the size of the fight in the dog that matters.’ It was a never ending source of frustration how he had no recourse when it came to his Father and one way or another he ended up doing what he wanted him to do. His Father also warned him about keeping a tight lid on his anger. That if he did get angry and he hurt someone bad people might come to take him away and when that happened there would be nothing more he could do to help him. He only vaguely remembered it, but he remembered there had been a day he had gotten angry at another kid over possession of a toy. What he remembered is he hurt the other kid enough that they had to have a cast around their forearm. When it first happened and he realized what he had done he couldn’t stop crying and pleaded for his Mother, that he didn’t mean it and didn’t want to have bad people come to take him away. His Father wrote a check to the family of the kid he hurt and Wayne was moved to another school. His Father had been colder and more distant than usual and when he did speak to him he merely said that he was ‘disappointed.’ He didn’t know it until years later, but his parents had a hard time finding a school that would take him. What they ended up doing for their son is building and funding a little private school. And his Father made it very clear that there were to be no more problems. To ensure this outcome his Father started giving him little lessons on how to be a gentleman. “Two faced bastard…” He muttered at the memory of those lessons. At his core his Father was an asshole no matter how he dressed himself up, no matter how much he feigned a sincere smile and said all the right things.
The times he thought he did do something worth garnering his Father’s approval he barely took notice. The man was never satisfied and if he ever was he would immediately look toward the future.
And much more often than not Lord Scott’s intuitive predictions turned out to be right…that also pissed him off.
The fear of rejection, of being reviled and people being afraid of him was all consuming. It was eating him alive. If he was stripped of his job and title he would have nothing.
And for the first time in a long time he shed a tear for himself.
“I wish I hadn’t been born--that I hadn’t been sent here. That I didn’t have these powers.” He pathetically moaned to himself tightly shutting his eyes and forcing himself to sleep.
…
The next day was Thursday. When Metro Man got out of bed still wearing his costume from yesterday and mindlessly went through the motions of getting something for breakfast, doing his hair and tending to his dental hygiene. Deviating from his normal routine he turned the TV on to listen for any word that he was fired, going to face a lawsuit, be banished from the city limits or God’s knows what else.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about the newscast seemed different this morning. He absently thought as he still struggled to shake off the cobwebs as he downed a cup of coffee before brushing, flossing and swishing his mouth wash.
“It is a quarter after the hour at 12:15 so let’s go to Joe to hear about the weather forecast for the rest of the day,” a news anchor on the TV announced as Metro Man sent a green spray of minty mouth wash into the mirror in front of him.
“CRAP! What time is it!?” he shouted as he made a mad dash for the TV. Sure enough in a corner of the screen it gave the time as being 12:17 PM.
Metro Man had slept in late…
Very late…
In the blink of an eye Metro Man was out on patrol. His mind raced in panic as he circled the city half expecting it to be in ruin and chaos without his constant vigilant watch. After circling the city a half dozen times without being hailed for an assist and no one calling him out on his absence he allowed himself to relax.
In his brief absence the city remained standing. It wasn’t on fire and burned to the ground. The electricity still flowed. The public transit busses still ran. There was no mass walk out of teenagers from their schools. The anarchists and socialists hadn’t taken over and started looting corporate offices, small businesses and high rise apartments belonging to the Metro City’s elite.
Then Metro Man caught wind of something with his super-hearing. “I did call for Metro Man’s assistance with this, but after calling and calling for him to show up I realized that I didn’t need his help to get this done.” The simple matter of fact statement knocked him backwards as if he had been struck by a giant fly swatter.
He wasn’t needed?
People could solve their own problems without him?
“I need a day off…” He went back to his underground hideout took off his costume, put on his white robe and put his feet up while he listened to the news.
He flipped through all the local channels and a few of the national channels and could find nothing to confirm his worse fears. At least for now it was all in his head.
…
Against his better judgment after hearing the afternoon news Metro Man got up and searched for something else to wear. He had an idea, a crazy, insane and stupid idea. “I should just stay put-when was the last time I had a day off?” He asked himself as he searched through his closet trying on shirt, after shirt, pair of jeans after pair of jeans each item being thrown to the floor in a heap. Nothing worked.
This was a bad and not to mention dangerous idea, but he had to know: what did the citizens of Metro City really think of him? Was he really needed at all? Were they just humoring him out of a mix of genuine admiration and fear while others simply took advantage of his generosity? Did they fear that if they didn’t worship him, if their offerings did not please him he would reduce Metro City to cinders and ashes?
There was only one solution for this, but for some reason he was hesitant to do what he knew he needed to do. “Ok, I’m just going to look for something that might work. Just because I’m looking doesn’t mean I have to get anything and it doesn’t mean I have to go through with this stupid idea.”
With new purpose to his steps he exited his underground lair and stepped into the light of the day turning his eyes to the city he protected.
Still wearing only his white “M” embroidered bathrobe, a pair of matching slippers and his underwear he engaged his super-speed and took off into the city to find clothing suitable enough to disguise his identity.
His first stop was the Big and Tall store. He certainly wasn’t big, as in bulging at the waist, but he was tall. He certainly looked dashing in the two suits that he tried on, but he could still instantly tell that it was him. He tried the Men’s Warehouse store next thinking maybe he just needed a different venue, but the result was the same. No matter what he put on it did nothing to make him look like a normal, average person who only by pure chance and coincidence had a certain resemblance to Metro Man. “Even if I put a bag over my head people would still probably know that it’s me! Ok, calm down, calm down-I can figure this out.”
I’m not thinking about this the right way-I need a different strategy. I can’t just slap on any civilian clothing and expect that people won’t know it’s me. He thought to himself as he stared at his reflection. What is it that people associate with Metro Man? He thought staring himself down in the mirror from head to toe.
1) The hair.
2) That toothy million dollar smile.
3) His beautiful blue eyes.
4) His long face and chiseled chin.
5) Bulky muscles.
6) Lean figure.
The hair he could fix by making it damp, drying it again and shaking his hands through it to make it messy and unkempt. As for his smile he simply had to not smile something that was proving surprisingly difficult as he tried to contort his face into a range of expressions, but his lips always reverted back to a smile. As for the rest of him, nothing immediately came to mind. Getting contacts that only altered his eye color was a bit extreme not to mention time consuming. What he needed was something to cover his lean figure and bulky muscles. Maybe he would have better luck if he tried a place that was not his typical style.
Metro Man decided to try one of the Goodwill thrift shops. From the second he pried apart the automatic doors that were frozen shut and stepped into the store it felt as though an article of clothing was calling to him. He drifted toward an aisle with all manner and types of coats and picked out a long khaki trench coat. He tried it on in one of the changing rooms and it fit perfectly. "Ok, it is rather cliché for a disguise but it does the job." The way the garment hung over his body you couldn’t tell for sure what exactly was under the coat. Whether he had six pack abs or was packing a keg. “A pair of jeans and an undershirt and I’ m good to go.” He said to himself flashing his winning smile which quickly turned into a frown.
There was still one problem left. What to do about his face? “This is never going to work!” He dismayed rubbing at one his temples while turning his attention skyward. He was ready to forget about the whole thing when he came out of his dressing room and noticed an assortment of hats that were for sale. There was one in particular that caught his immediate attention a fedora hat that matched his trench coat. “This might just work…” he said after trying it on. “But it’s still not enough…”
He came back to the store to pay the exact amount for the coat and the hat and put the money in the register. As he did so that is when he got another idea. The woman at the cash register was wearing a large pair of glasses with thick lenses. He lifted the glasses from the woman carefully and experimentally looked at himself in the mirror. When he wore them along with the hat and the trench coat he looked like a completely different person.
It was exciting.
Everyone else got to play hooky from work or school so why couldn’t he have a day to do the same? And he wouldn’t be playing hooky entirely. He could still keep a watchful eye and ear on the city while he gathered information on the public’s opinion of him. If something serious came up he could discreetly excuse himself and change into costume.
To be continued...
Author's Notes:
1) I am unsure how much depth I am going to get into Metro Man's public opinion polling in disguise. Right now I am thinking I am only going to describe it in passing in the next chapter for purposes of being concise.
After the unpleasantness surrounding his lunch hour the rest of the day was thankfully uneventful just your typical run of the mill bank robbing, a threat on a building downtown which turned out to be nothing to get excited about and various nagging requests for assistance from the helpless citizens of Metro City.
When Metro Man returned to his hideout at the end of the day he just wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head-which is exactly what he did. He just wanted the world to go away and leave him alone.
He couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him, but he had. He lost his cool and came damn close to punching the kid’s lights out. Metro Man dreaded what he regarded as the very real possibility of a public backlash against him and questions being raised about his ability to continue to be an objective and effective tool of law enforcement.
Maybe he was exaggerating and this was all in his head…but what if it wasn’t? The last time something like this had happened a nearby police officer had to talk him down telling him that the guy wasn’t worth it. That time he had come very close to doing something that would have put his career in serious jeopardy.
‘The one thing that is always true about public opinion is that it is always unreliable,’ Metro Man remembered his adopted father, Lord Scott often saying. One day you are regarded as the savior of the city’s economy courting new businesses and industries to come to Metro City while already established companies expand and the next you’re the scapegoat for all the city’s ills everything from: the high unemployment rate, scarcity of living wage jobs, the poor quality of education in public schools and corruption within the government and police department allowing the drug lords, pimps and human traffickers go about their activities unchecked.
From what he knew of his Father’s life, it didn’t exactly happen over night, but that is pretty much what happened. He knew at one time his Father had been a publicly respected figure among the leaders in business and industry, government officials and to a certain extent the general public. All of that started to change as businesses moved overseas where the labor is cheaper which had a ripple effect on every aspect of public life. In order to keep companies from leaving his Father lobbied for tax breaks and other incentives, but this all came at a cost. Although Metro City overall enjoyed a consistently lower unemployment level many of the jobs did not afford a living wage standard of life. The city’s poorest residents suffered the most due to various government programs being heavily limited and under funded in large part due to lower corporate and income tax rates. Ultimately the various companies continued to flee despite desperate pleas from the citizens and city government. As the economy spiraled downward the blame game started and accusations swirled that the tax breaks and subsidies were never really needed by the companies. That for them it was all about money and widening their already healthy profit margin.
As much as he hated to admit it Lord Scott did have a strong influence on him growing up. For one he taught him the value of keeping up appearances. Although his Father was not emotionally expressive by nature he could exude charisma, charm and even a smile when the occasion called for it. His Father never settled for second best and expected the same from his son. But first and foremost his Father was about control. Anytime he got upset, or sad his Father came down on him hard. ‘No one likes a cry baby,’ ‘stop sniveling’ and ‘crying is for losers.’ Even as an infant he possessed powers and abilities that should have made his Father wary of making him mad, but he didn’t back down and never budged once his mind was made up. When he asked his Father why it is that he always wins, that he always gets what he wants his Father replied: ‘It’s not the size of the dog that matters it’s the size of the fight in the dog that matters.’ It was a never ending source of frustration how he had no recourse when it came to his Father and one way or another he ended up doing what he wanted him to do. His Father also warned him about keeping a tight lid on his anger. That if he did get angry and he hurt someone bad people might come to take him away and when that happened there would be nothing more he could do to help him. He only vaguely remembered it, but he remembered there had been a day he had gotten angry at another kid over possession of a toy. What he remembered is he hurt the other kid enough that they had to have a cast around their forearm. When it first happened and he realized what he had done he couldn’t stop crying and pleaded for his Mother, that he didn’t mean it and didn’t want to have bad people come to take him away. His Father wrote a check to the family of the kid he hurt and Wayne was moved to another school. His Father had been colder and more distant than usual and when he did speak to him he merely said that he was ‘disappointed.’ He didn’t know it until years later, but his parents had a hard time finding a school that would take him. What they ended up doing for their son is building and funding a little private school. And his Father made it very clear that there were to be no more problems. To ensure this outcome his Father started giving him little lessons on how to be a gentleman. “Two faced bastard…” He muttered at the memory of those lessons. At his core his Father was an asshole no matter how he dressed himself up, no matter how much he feigned a sincere smile and said all the right things.
The times he thought he did do something worth garnering his Father’s approval he barely took notice. The man was never satisfied and if he ever was he would immediately look toward the future.
And much more often than not Lord Scott’s intuitive predictions turned out to be right…that also pissed him off.
The fear of rejection, of being reviled and people being afraid of him was all consuming. It was eating him alive. If he was stripped of his job and title he would have nothing.
And for the first time in a long time he shed a tear for himself.
“I wish I hadn’t been born--that I hadn’t been sent here. That I didn’t have these powers.” He pathetically moaned to himself tightly shutting his eyes and forcing himself to sleep.
…
The next day was Thursday. When Metro Man got out of bed still wearing his costume from yesterday and mindlessly went through the motions of getting something for breakfast, doing his hair and tending to his dental hygiene. Deviating from his normal routine he turned the TV on to listen for any word that he was fired, going to face a lawsuit, be banished from the city limits or God’s knows what else.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about the newscast seemed different this morning. He absently thought as he still struggled to shake off the cobwebs as he downed a cup of coffee before brushing, flossing and swishing his mouth wash.
“It is a quarter after the hour at 12:15 so let’s go to Joe to hear about the weather forecast for the rest of the day,” a news anchor on the TV announced as Metro Man sent a green spray of minty mouth wash into the mirror in front of him.
“CRAP! What time is it!?” he shouted as he made a mad dash for the TV. Sure enough in a corner of the screen it gave the time as being 12:17 PM.
Metro Man had slept in late…
Very late…
In the blink of an eye Metro Man was out on patrol. His mind raced in panic as he circled the city half expecting it to be in ruin and chaos without his constant vigilant watch. After circling the city a half dozen times without being hailed for an assist and no one calling him out on his absence he allowed himself to relax.
In his brief absence the city remained standing. It wasn’t on fire and burned to the ground. The electricity still flowed. The public transit busses still ran. There was no mass walk out of teenagers from their schools. The anarchists and socialists hadn’t taken over and started looting corporate offices, small businesses and high rise apartments belonging to the Metro City’s elite.
Then Metro Man caught wind of something with his super-hearing. “I did call for Metro Man’s assistance with this, but after calling and calling for him to show up I realized that I didn’t need his help to get this done.” The simple matter of fact statement knocked him backwards as if he had been struck by a giant fly swatter.
He wasn’t needed?
People could solve their own problems without him?
“I need a day off…” He went back to his underground hideout took off his costume, put on his white robe and put his feet up while he listened to the news.
He flipped through all the local channels and a few of the national channels and could find nothing to confirm his worse fears. At least for now it was all in his head.
…
Against his better judgment after hearing the afternoon news Metro Man got up and searched for something else to wear. He had an idea, a crazy, insane and stupid idea. “I should just stay put-when was the last time I had a day off?” He asked himself as he searched through his closet trying on shirt, after shirt, pair of jeans after pair of jeans each item being thrown to the floor in a heap. Nothing worked.
This was a bad and not to mention dangerous idea, but he had to know: what did the citizens of Metro City really think of him? Was he really needed at all? Were they just humoring him out of a mix of genuine admiration and fear while others simply took advantage of his generosity? Did they fear that if they didn’t worship him, if their offerings did not please him he would reduce Metro City to cinders and ashes?
There was only one solution for this, but for some reason he was hesitant to do what he knew he needed to do. “Ok, I’m just going to look for something that might work. Just because I’m looking doesn’t mean I have to get anything and it doesn’t mean I have to go through with this stupid idea.”
With new purpose to his steps he exited his underground lair and stepped into the light of the day turning his eyes to the city he protected.
Still wearing only his white “M” embroidered bathrobe, a pair of matching slippers and his underwear he engaged his super-speed and took off into the city to find clothing suitable enough to disguise his identity.
His first stop was the Big and Tall store. He certainly wasn’t big, as in bulging at the waist, but he was tall. He certainly looked dashing in the two suits that he tried on, but he could still instantly tell that it was him. He tried the Men’s Warehouse store next thinking maybe he just needed a different venue, but the result was the same. No matter what he put on it did nothing to make him look like a normal, average person who only by pure chance and coincidence had a certain resemblance to Metro Man. “Even if I put a bag over my head people would still probably know that it’s me! Ok, calm down, calm down-I can figure this out.”
I’m not thinking about this the right way-I need a different strategy. I can’t just slap on any civilian clothing and expect that people won’t know it’s me. He thought to himself as he stared at his reflection. What is it that people associate with Metro Man? He thought staring himself down in the mirror from head to toe.
1) The hair.
2) That toothy million dollar smile.
3) His beautiful blue eyes.
4) His long face and chiseled chin.
5) Bulky muscles.
6) Lean figure.
The hair he could fix by making it damp, drying it again and shaking his hands through it to make it messy and unkempt. As for his smile he simply had to not smile something that was proving surprisingly difficult as he tried to contort his face into a range of expressions, but his lips always reverted back to a smile. As for the rest of him, nothing immediately came to mind. Getting contacts that only altered his eye color was a bit extreme not to mention time consuming. What he needed was something to cover his lean figure and bulky muscles. Maybe he would have better luck if he tried a place that was not his typical style.
Metro Man decided to try one of the Goodwill thrift shops. From the second he pried apart the automatic doors that were frozen shut and stepped into the store it felt as though an article of clothing was calling to him. He drifted toward an aisle with all manner and types of coats and picked out a long khaki trench coat. He tried it on in one of the changing rooms and it fit perfectly. "Ok, it is rather cliché for a disguise but it does the job." The way the garment hung over his body you couldn’t tell for sure what exactly was under the coat. Whether he had six pack abs or was packing a keg. “A pair of jeans and an undershirt and I’ m good to go.” He said to himself flashing his winning smile which quickly turned into a frown.
There was still one problem left. What to do about his face? “This is never going to work!” He dismayed rubbing at one his temples while turning his attention skyward. He was ready to forget about the whole thing when he came out of his dressing room and noticed an assortment of hats that were for sale. There was one in particular that caught his immediate attention a fedora hat that matched his trench coat. “This might just work…” he said after trying it on. “But it’s still not enough…”
He came back to the store to pay the exact amount for the coat and the hat and put the money in the register. As he did so that is when he got another idea. The woman at the cash register was wearing a large pair of glasses with thick lenses. He lifted the glasses from the woman carefully and experimentally looked at himself in the mirror. When he wore them along with the hat and the trench coat he looked like a completely different person.
It was exciting.
Everyone else got to play hooky from work or school so why couldn’t he have a day to do the same? And he wouldn’t be playing hooky entirely. He could still keep a watchful eye and ear on the city while he gathered information on the public’s opinion of him. If something serious came up he could discreetly excuse himself and change into costume.
To be continued...
Author's Notes:
1) I am unsure how much depth I am going to get into Metro Man's public opinion polling in disguise. Right now I am thinking I am only going to describe it in passing in the next chapter for purposes of being concise.