Goldbird

“There you are! You better get up now brother,” a familiar, male voice says. I hear him walk up to me, I feel him stand over me blocking the hot sun. I can hear his voice but cannot move, my body reluctant. “Goldbird? Goldbird!”

I open my eyes to look at him. It’s Warhog, my teammate. He’s a heavily armed 500-pound warthog who enjoys kicking ass, breaking bones, and watching competitive baking shows.

“Oh man, brother, you stink,” he informs me in a low baritone, gravelly voice, like two rocks grinding against each other.

“Ugh. So loud,” I say. “Wait, you look different.”

Warhog snorts, touching his intact tusk. “Awe, thanks for noticin. Got in a scrap. Dude broke my favorite tusk.”

“Crappy. What did you do to him?”

“Broke his face,” Warhog says and snorts again. “Come on brother, get up.”

“I need more time. Five minutes.”

“No way, it’s time to go,” he says.

I hear more voices nearby. I feel chunks of broken concrete under me. I must have hit the ground hard.

“You know, you aint supposed to drink and fly. Rule number one,” Warhog warns me.

“There aren’t any rules when you’re a superhero.” I see that I am in a wide alley between homes. My eye focuses on a group of young children who peek at me from behind an old woman standing in a nearby doorway. She is wearing a colorful dress and dark blue flats with a yellow bandana that keeps her long gray hair in place and away from her face. I really have to puke.

“Hey, you gotta wake up now brother,” Warhog repeats, nudging me with his massive hoof.

I respond by throwing up on the ground. The children hiding behind the old woman recoil and laugh at me. I try to move but I am dead weight. I have to get up. Summoning strength, I manage to rise up, pushing myself up to sit with my back against the wall. “Ugh, help me up, Hog.”

“I don’t know, brother. You gonna puke on me? You don’t look so good.”

Leaning against the rough cinder block wall, with both eyes open now, I look around. Up and down the alley people are looking at me. They are standing far away from me. People lean out of windows up above me. Further away I see a street where more people are gathered to look at me. Oh great.

Looking down at myself I see a costume, white with gold trim. A symbol on my chest is covered in vomit. And I pissed myself. Hours ago. My urine is cold and I am soaked in it, my nose burning with the smell.

I notice I am barefoot when a headache explodes like a neutron star. Ugh. I’m so hungover. More vomit followed by more laughter from those children. I use some fabric near me to wipe my face when a breeze picks up. The fabric begins to flap in the breeze and I realize it is connected to me, awkwardly wrapped around me. It is -- was -- a white and gold cape. And it too is soaked in urine. My head is killing me.

“Where am I?”

“Los Cabos, Mexico.”

“How the hell did I-”

“You don’t know?”

“No, it’s all foggy.”

“Oh. Yeah. You crashed here. Missed all these houses. Lucky you landed in this alley, brother.”

The alcohol fog bathing my brain is lifting now and I recall echoes of sobriety. I recall shots, then entire bottles of tequila. I feel for my mask. My mask. My mask is not on my face and they see me. “My mask.”

“Oh. Yeah. I don’t know where it is, brother. We gotta go.”

“They can see my face,” I say to Warhog. “We have to look for it.”

“Look, brother, that’s the least of your worries. Tank is looking for you. I didn’t check in yet so maybe we have some time. But you gotta get up. Now. We gotta go.”

“No. I want her to find me like this.”

“Are you crazy? If she does, you’re done.”

“No, I’m not. It’ll all be fine.”

Warhog doesn’t disagree with me he just shakes his head.

The situation I’m in is fully formed now. I got super drunk last night. Or yesterday morning. Maybe. I crashed here. Could have killed a bunch of kids. And my mask is gone. My mask. Without my mask, they all know my identity. That’s it for me. Game over. No more super-heroing. Also, I pissed myself. Big time.

“Where’s the rest of the team?” I ask.

“They’re kinda done with you, brother. Sorry.”

“What about you, Hog?”

“I’m here ain’t I? Took awhile to track you down.”

“You shouldn’t have come looking for me.”

“We’re buds.”

“I don’t have friends, Hog.”

“You don’t have to be an ass.”

“I’m not, just the truth.” So, The Justifiers are done with me. My team. Whatever.

Warhog stiffens and says to me, “Okay, well, Tank is inbound.”

“Great, the bitch has landed.”

“Don’t call her that. You know what, Goldbird? Everyone is right. I defended you, but you ain’t worth it.”

“Never said I was.”

Warhog snorts. “I shouldn’t have come here. Waste of time.”

“Yes, I told you that.”

“You’re on your own. Have a shitty life.” And with that, Warhog plods away, his enormous frame taking up much of the alley.

I hear a familiar sound. It’s the team jet taking off fast, one street over.

Then I hear Tank. She is a black bullet ripping through clouds high up in the sky. Tank comes in hot, hovering above me. The gathering crowd near us moves back as she lands right near me, her suit’s jets burning bright and hot. She is protected by her armored gray and yellow exo-suit, a full-body weapon she developed. Tank is formidable. We fought years ago, back when we first met. She was wearing the original suit then. This thing must be new. Looks shiny and dangerous.

Tank is also the leader of The Justifiers, the inventor of all the tech we use, and the de facto spokesperson. I hear people cheering as they realize who she is. I look up to her. She stares at me from two slits in her facemask. I remember no one cheers for me anymore.

Tank says, “It was smart of Warhog to split before I got here.” Shaking her head she looks down at me, speaking low. “Well, Goldbird. You did it. You unbelievable piece of crap. You happy?”

“Not really sure what I did so-”

“Oh, let me guess, did you ‘black out’ again?” She asks, using air-quotes. “You gonna use that old gem?”

I look down to examine myself again. “Look Tank, I know this looks bad but...”

“You think this looks bad? Are you serious?” Tank asks. “Only you could make this about yourself. How about ‘I’m sorry I almost destroyed these homes’? Or, ‘I’m sorry I got drunk again’? Or, ‘How can I fix this, Tank?’ Anything that disproves what everyone thinks about you.”

“I-” I begin to say but cannot continue. She’s right. I don’t care about anybody except myself.

Tank says to me, “You are done, you hear me? Done.”

“Wait. What? This, this is no big deal! Look-”

“You don’t get it, do you? Remember three strikes and you’re out?”

“Uh, yeah, but listen-”

“You remember Saint Patrick’s Day 2017? You destroyed a city block in that drunken fight with Gorbo-Jorbo? And it cost us, what, about 60 million to fix your screw up?”

“Um...yes, yes, I do.”

“You remember Cinco de Mayo 2018? You literally used an aircraft carrier to smash Compaction into the Golden Gate Bridge?”

I grin at that one. “I do. Although in my defense that little turd was made of millions of nanobots that-”

“Shut the hell up! Don’t you dare defend that!” Tank shouts. “Do you realize how hard we had to work to evacuate that bridge? You put thousands of people at risk. They had to quarantine the bay area for weeks because of you. And surprise surprise, you missed it all after passing out.”

“Ugh, this again, Tank? No one got hurt. Except me. Once again I had to be the leader and selflessly put myself in danger to save lives. And it worked. You’re welcome.”

“You asshole! You are not the leader of our team! I was helping evacuate the bridge. That’s what leaders do. Leaders think of others first, they think of their teammates second. Like always you just charged in. And are you capable of taking responsibility? Ever? It’s never your fault, right? Well, guess what Goldbird, you can’t play the hero and be the victim.”

Tank points a finger at me as she takes a step forward, the motors in her exo-suit quietly whirring. “We saved everyone without you. Like every other time we were left to pick up the pieces. We saved lives because you alone couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. You’re no hero. You’re a mean drunk with superpowers. And guess what? You’re fired.”

And there it is. I can’t believe this.

She waits a moment before speaking. “No snappy comeback? No shitty comment blaming this on someone else? That’s a first. You know what Goldbird? I’d feel sorry for you if I knew that you cared. That you in some way actually gave a crap about anyone but yourself. But you don’t. So I don’t. This is all your fault. You’re a burden to us. To everyone.”

Tank moves toward me again, motors whirring in her suit as she kneels in front of me. She leans in and says, “I want to tell you something Goldbird. Hey, look at me when I talk to you, Greg.”

I look up, barely able to look in her eyes.

Tank whispers, “Like everyone else, I used to think you were a god. I saw you put the moon back. I saw you smash the alien ships like mosquitos. I saw you close a black hole. I saw you save billions of people over and over. I’ve seen parades dedicated to you, statues made in your honor, schools and colleges and parks named after you. For years I’ve seen little boys and girls dress like you for Halloween. People looked to you to be strong because they couldn’t. People looked up to you for hope and salvation. You were what they aspired to be. But those days are over. The truth is you saved billions of people but you couldn’t save yourself.”

I stare at her in disbelief. Not that I don’t believe her, I do. It’s that I’ve been blind… to the truth.

“I loved you Greg Goldberg. I loved you before you learned to fly. I loved you when you became Goldbird. I loved you hard. I loved you with all my heart and then some. But this monster you turned into, this person is a stranger to me. You’re filled with so much self-hate, so much false ego and unearned narcissism, I don’t know who you are anymore. And you don’t either. Kids around the world don’t want to be like you anymore. They laugh at you because you’re a joke. They make fun of you. They call you Superdrunk. They sing songs about you and your drinking.”

Tank looks like she’s about to cry but does not. She whispers, “You were given these special powers, these gifts that let you walk across the sun, but you ended up crawling into a bottle.”

She holds back tears as she continues softly. “I can’t ever be with someone like that. I don’t want someone like that on my team. And I certainly don’t want our daughter to be around someone like you. It’s not fair to her. For whatever reason, you can’t bring yourself to be in her life. You sure can arrive at photo ops and conventions so your ego gets stroked, but you can’t even manage to make it to your own daughter’s birthday party. So you know what I do? I lie. To my own child. Not for you but to protect her.”

“I hate that you put me in that position but what else can I do? Let her stay up once again waiting for you? You can’t do that to a child, Greg, and you shouldn’t do that to your own. I started telling her you’re not her real daddy but she’s smart. She’s smart and she knows. And she’s starting to use her own powers. I don’t have any so she got them from you and I’m scared.”

“She does?” I ask weakly. “I… I didn’t know.”

“How would you? You haven’t seen her in months. And once again out of all I’ve just said to you, the only thing you hear is about you.”

Tank shakes her head and stands up. Stepping back, she says, “No. No more. I’m tired of feeling like this. So fly away little bird. Fly away to another world. Do us all a favor and don’t come back.” With that she looks at me one last time before flying off into the blue sky.

She’s right. The least I can do is leave. So I fly away. I leave Earth and fly straight on till sobriety. Weeks pass before I get bored and find a pretty blue planet like Earth. I land, bury my costume and begin to remember who I was, who I wanted to be.

I am a superhero. I am a living god. I am Goldbird.