Mighty Man vs The Incredible Bulk

Nobody knew where it came from, whether it had crawled from under Mrs Ball’s desk, dropped from the ceiling or materialised out of thin air. By the time the first girl screamed, Mrs Ball was wrapped in numerous tentacles as the thing with too many eyes leered at her.

In mass panic, the kids pressed to the back of the classroom trying to put distance between themselves and the horror show that was unfolding. Mrs Ball, now almost lost behind the slithering limbs that gripped her, opened her mouth but no sound came. Had she been trying to scream or scold the nightmare beast, none could tell.

More of the girls were screaming now, as were some of the boys, and the throng pushed even harder against the wall. Cries of pain and fear were drowned out when a section of the wall began to collapse, steam hissing from the edge of an opening which was appearing. Some of the children thought they saw twin red lasers painting their way around the impromptu doorway, but in the madness and clamour they would not have been surprised to see fairies and goblins too.

In the heat-haze surrounding the fallen wall, a man appeared. He was dressed in a high-collared bright red one-piece with vivid yellow trim, and not so much a neckline as a navalline as it revealed so much of his muscled chest.

Seeing him, most of the girls swooned. As did some of the boys.

The stranger strode forward.

The creature shot out a tentacle, catching the man on the side of his head and knocking him to the floor. It squeezed Mrs Ball one last time – horrific snapping and wet gurgling reached the ears of those nearest – before letting her withered carcass drop and writhing itself over to the fallen man.

Somewhere on its quivering mass (body was too normal a word for it) a mouth opened and a fetid stench filled the room. More tentacles reached for the man and pulled him closer, drawing him to the black maw.

From the stranger’s eyes, beams of brilliant ruby lanced out to the monster cutting through the slime and cartilage. The thing hissed and boiled, shrank as the scarlet light intensified. All of its eyes widened and from its mouth came an unusual noise:

‘Goshdarnit.’

Then the thing was gone, with nothing to prove its existence but the poor teacher’s body and the lingering aroma of fried snakeskin.

*

School was let out early that day as the faculty and the authorities tried to make sense of what had occurred.

Although the kids in Mrs Ball’s class had witnessed a nightmare which would break the mind of even the most hardened war veteran, their youthful spirit and years of videogame inoculation left them with no lasting emotional scars. Despite the panicked crush and the half-ton of wall which had been demolished, only one of them suffered a physical injury.

Richard Richards (‘So what?’ he often said to the kids that would tease him about his name. ‘My parents have no imagination but at least they have a human child.’) pressed his hand against his temple as he walked home. He was no longer bleeding but the wound was stinging intensely.

‘Ricky, wait.’

Richard turned to see Griffin Dempsey chugging toward him as fast as his portly frame would allow. He and Griffin lived on the same street and had known each other for as long as they could remember. They had never considered themselves friends, despite the number of times their parents forced them into playdates.

‘Ricky,’ Griffin panted as he reached Richard.

Richard nodded his greeting, then turned and continued walking.

‘That was – was mad what happened – to old Buster,’ Griffin said between breaths, using the nickname the kids had given Mrs Ball. She was not their favourite teacher. It didn’t help that she taught maths, what many considered the worst subject of all, or that she graded tests harshly. Last week, she had given Richard a C- for an algebra exam. Richard was old enough to know that it didn’t matter what x represented, there was no buried treasure underneath it.

‘Mad,’ he agreed, indifferently.

‘I know, you know,’ Griffin said, still struggling to breathe normally.

‘Know what?’

‘I figured it out.’ Griffin sounded pleased with himself, as though he finally understood a great secret of the universe. Such as what x equalled.

‘Figured what out?’ Richard snapped. His temple was throbbing and he had no patience for Griffin’s riddles.

‘That you are the man in red, that mighty man.’

‘Mighty Man?’ Richard squeaked. His voice was higher than he would have liked and he felt his face flush with embarrassment. But he did like the ring of the name.

‘You weren’t there,’ Griffin said. His breathlessness was now down to excitement rather than exertion. ‘When everyone was crowded at the back of class, I noticed you weren’t there. No-one else noticed, but I did.’ He beamed with pride. ‘And that cut on your head,’ he continued, his words coming faster, ‘it’s in the exact same place that that monster’s squid-arm-’

‘Tentacle,’ Richard corrected.

‘-yeah, that monster’s tentacle-arm hit the man. I know it was you.’

Richard stopped and looked Griffin squarely in the eyes. He was about to tell Griffin that he had an overactive imagination, that he was ready for the loony-bin. He wanted to point out that he was a thin fourteen-year-old boy not a six-foot grown up with muscles the size of melons.

‘I don’t know what happened,’ he said meekly. ‘I just wanted to help Mrs Ball and then, suddenly, I was.’

Griffin’s eyes bulged with the revelation. It seemed he had only half-believed his suspicion and, now that Richard had confirmed it, he was ready to burst with exhilaration.

‘I know exactly what happened,’ he blurted. ‘You Shazam!ed into an adult and laser beamed the arse off that tentacle-armed thing. Ricky, you are an honest-to-God, real life, spit in the eye, strike-me-down-if-I-lie superhero.’

Already blushing, Richard turned a deeper shade of red.

‘But I didn’t control it. It just… kinda happened because I hoped someone would save Buster.’

‘That’s it!’ Griffin shouted. With a stern look from Richard, Griffin composed himself and continued at a more conversational volume. ’That’s what superheroes do. They provide hope for the rest of us good guys, the ones downtrodden by society’s dictators and evildoers – such as maths teachers and monsters. Yes, they battle the supervillains and take on alien invaders, but they do that to show the rest of us that there is a reason to live, to fight. That is the superpower that all superheroes share, giving us hope.

‘Speaking of superpowers, what else can you do?’

Richard shrugged. ‘I dunno. This is the first time this has happened.’

Griffin quickly looked around, scanning the street.

‘Can you laser beam that lamppost with your eyes?’ he asked.

Richard focused on the light. His eyes narrowed.

Griffin held his breath in anticipation.

A minute passed.

‘I don’t even know how to switch it on,’ Richard said.

They continued walking home, silent for a while.

‘Maybe it’s because the lamppost wasn’t trouble,’ Griffin hypothesised. ‘Maybe your powers need both hope and imminent danger.’ With fake concern, he added, ‘I hope I get home soon or my dad is gonna kill me?’

‘Your dad, the world’s biggest pacifist?’

‘Okay.’ Griffin admitted defeat. ‘I just wanted to see if you could run really fast.’

Richard liked that idea. If he could rush home at the speed of a train, he’d be free of Griffin and his incessant rambling that much sooner. After all, the wound on his head was threatening to turn into a major headache and he really wanted Griffin to shut up.

Danger and hope.

There was no flash, no expensive CGI transformation. There was just Mighty Man, lifting Griffin in his arms and hurtling through the streets.

*

When they stopped outside the Dempsey house, Griffin was wincing in pain. Wafts of smoke drifted from his hair and his exposed skin was red and bright. Small holes dotted his clothing, which released a charred odour. A solitary flame danced on the strap of his backpack, but Richard quickly blew it out.

‘Ouchouchouchouch,’ Griffin mumbled. ‘What happened?’

‘I think we went too fast,’ Richard said. ‘It looks like you’re covered in friction burns. Sorry.’

Griffin grinned, then winced as the movement caused more discomfort.

‘’Sokay,’ he managed. ‘Small price to pay – ow – for testing your superp-ow-ers. Let’s meet up after tea – ow – and see what else you can do.’

Richard nodded his agreement, though he had no intention of joining Griffin again, then trudged to his own home.

*

The following day, there was a ruckus in the school office. As Richard’s home room was next to the office, he, Griffin and the other children heard everything.

‘How could this have happened?’ a man boomed.

‘Sir, please don’t raise your voice,’ snivelled Miss Duke, the secretary.

‘I am not raising my voice,’ the man shouted. ‘I just want to know how you let my mother die.’

Another man joined the conversation. Richard recognised him as Mr Stern, the headteacher – stern by name and stern by nature. Griffin caught his eyes and mouthed, ‘There’s gonna be trouble now.’

‘Now, now, Mr Ball,’ Stern said. ‘There’s no gain in verbally assaulting Miss Duke. What happened here yesterday was a travesty of the greatest order-’

A sudden crash from the next room, coupled with a yelp from Miss Duke, gave the children a start.

‘I demand answers!’

‘There’s no need for violence, Harry,’ Stern placated.

‘Violence? I only hit the damned wall. If you want to see violence, by God, I can show you.’

Griffin pulled Richard to one side. While fear was plastered all over the other kids’ faces, Griffin’s eyes were alight with excitement.

‘You’ve got to get in there,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve got to save Miss Duke and laser beam that guy who’s bullying her.’

Richard didn’t relish the thought of wading into a confrontation with a grieving son, but the word Griffin used tugged at his heartstrings: bully. His father has instilled in him a mortal dislike for such people and Richard knew that he could not stand by while someone was suffering at the hands of one.

Richard nodded to Griffin then-

-Mighty Man left the classroom and bounded into the office.

Stern, Miss Duke and Harry Ball all stopped and gaped at him. (Richard noticed the look on Miss Duke’s face as her eyes danced over his rippling chest, and he smiled inwardly.)

Richard was stunned by the size of Harry, a man big enough to carry the world on his shoulders. He seemed too large for the room, and was almost a broad as he was tall. The muscles in his neck were so thick there was little distinction between where his neck ended and his head started. His arms were so big, a normal weightlifter could use them if they found the heaviest bars in the gym were not enough of a challenge.

Large as he was though, Harry was not slow and was the first to react to Mighty Man’s appearance.

‘You look like a freak. I bet you had something to do with Mum’s death.’

He stomped forward and Richard felt the room shake with each step he took.

Then there was another presence in the room. It had the wings of a bat and the probiscis of a mosquito, if said mosquito was of a monstrous size. It flitted quickly through the air, preventing Richard from catching any more detail, and emitted a high-pitched screech.

As Miss Duke ducked behind her desk, Mr Stern looked on with mouth agape. Harry swung a punch at the creature, bellowing his rage and confusion.

Richard focused his eyes on the thing and willed his laser vision to blast it. Nothing happened.

The batsquito dodged Harry’s attack, swooped over his head and dove at the big man’s neck.

Richard tried to rush forward to catch the beast before it struck Harry. He moved only at his regular speed.

The thing landed on Harry. Blood splattered as it tore into his flesh.

‘No more death,’ Richard screamed. He grabbed the thing by its wings and yanked it away from Harry. The hole in his neck was clotted by a lime green substance, probably some vile secretion from the creature’s probiscis.

With fear fuelling his strength, Mighty Man held the beast in his hand and squeezed, pressing on the thing from all sides and crushing it into a fist-sized ball of squirming leather and bile. At the end, just before it popped out of existence, it gave a feeble ‘bleh.’

*

At break, Richard and Griffin found a quiet corner to talk.

‘What happened?’ Griffin asked. ‘Did you laser him?’

‘No. No, I tried but I couldn’t,’ Richard said. ‘He got bitten by a bat-type thing. I think it infected him or something. Turned him green.’

‘Bat-thing? Well, did you laser that?’

‘So where is the bat-thing now?’ Griffin glanced around, checking to see if it was creeping up on them.

‘It’s gone,’ Richard assured him. ‘I crushed it.’

‘With superstrength?’ Griffin’s voice was full of awe.

‘I guess so.’

Griffin’s forehead creased in confusion. ‘Yesterday you had laser eyes and could run at the speed of light-’

‘Not really the speed of light.’

‘Whatevs. Really fast. And today you have superstrength.’

Watching his expression change as the penny dropped reminded Richard of a sunrise. Into the depths of the night, a sliver of light is cast and, with increasing speed, the darkness pales until day holds reign.

‘I’ve got it,’ Griffin said with a triumphant air. ‘You’re getting new powers every day. This time next week, you’ll be the Avenger’s League all rolled into one.’

Richard wasn’t so sure.

*

They didn’t have to wait a week. Trouble found them within minutes.

The ambulance had arrived shortly before the morning break and, under able to lift Harry onto a stretcher, the paramedics had been working on him in the office. Now, as the younger children ran and hollered and skipped and the older ones dared each other to ask out a member of the opposite sex, the office wall exploded out in a shower of brick and dust. Mr Stern’s car, always parked closest to the school building, disappeared under a torrent of debris.

Silence descended across the playground as all eyes turned to the devastation.

A paramedic crawled through the hole in wall. She reached out to the supervising teacher, opening her mouth to say something. Before she could speak, she was pulled sharply back by an unseen hand.

‘Better get ready,’ Griffin hissed at Richard.

One large, green foot stepped from the office. The supervising teacher collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

An equally huge hand lurched out and gripped the outside wall.

Then the head emerged.

Richard recognised Harry’s features in the same way he recognised his own face in his baby pictures. The hint of the person was there but the dimensions were all changed. Harry had started off as a big man; now he was ma-hass-sive. His crewcut was the same salt-and-pepper but his scalp was now a shining green. Horn-like protuberances jutted from his face and neck.

The head turned slowly, emerald eyes glaring at the children.

Harry moved forward then suddenly stopped. With impatience on his face, he jerked forward again and the wall trembled.

‘Hooaaaaaaar,’ he rumbled in a baritone that reverberated Richard’s bones.

‘Reeeeeeeeee,’ he spat as he thrust himself at the opening.

With a final, ‘Berrrllll,’ Harry broke free from the office, scattering more bricks across the playground.

Now that his full nine-foot frame was revealed in all its hideous glory, the children screamed and ran away.

‘You gotta do something,’ Griffin pleaded, but Richard was no longer there.

Stepping forward, Mighty Man approached the knock-off Hulk.

Harry glared at Mighty Man.

‘Hoaaaar! Reeeeee! Berrll!’ His voice was like a hammer blow striking at Richard.

Richard stared at Harry. Laser! he thought. Burn! he tried. Fire!

Nothing worked. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t seem to activate the laser beam vision that had beaten Mrs Ball’s assailant. This was how it had been with the bat-mosquito; Richard figured he would just have to take Harry down using his superstrength. But there has a big size difference between the bat-type creature and the hulk which stood before him now, and Richard wondered if he would be able to defeat Harry as easily.

‘Hoar-ree-berl,’ Harry yelled, pounding the floor with his fists. Concrete chips sputtered in all directions.

Richard rushed at Harry.

Well, he wanted to. Just like in the school office, he actually only loped forward in his usual canter. Bending low, he threw his arms around Harry’s left thigh and pulled, attempting to unbalance Harry and bring him crashing to the floor. He strained and grunted, but could not move Harry an inch.

‘Hor-ri-ble,’ Harry moaned and kicked his leg up.

Richard felt himself lifted from the ground. Unable to keep hold on Harry’s leg, he continued to rise. His stomach folded around itself as he though he were on a rollercoaster. It wasn’t until he looked down and saw the Google maps version of his school that he realised how high Harry had kicked him.

A bird squawked at him as he crossed its flight path. A white-tailed eagle, he noted, all the way from the Isle of Wight. Richard was surprised and pleased with this once-in-a-lifetime encounter, though more surprised that he could feel pleasure while being hurled into the sky.

As his ascent slowed, he knew he was as good as dead. Gravity would claim him and drag him down, conspiring with the ground to flatten him like a pancake. A raspberry filled pancake.

Reaching the apex of his flight, Richard closed his eyes. He hung there for a moment…

…and a moment longer…

…then opened his eyes again.

The ground was not rushing toward him. He was not falling to his squelchy death. He was floating in mid-air, neither rising nor falling.

I can fly, he realised.

Aiming himself at Harry, he rocketed down, colliding with him in a painful tangle of skin and flesh. As Harry tumbled to the ground – crying ‘Hor-ri-ble’ – Richard dropped from him, quickly rolled away and got to his feet.

Harry’s arms and legs thrashed wildly as he floundered on the floor. His weight was preventing him getting up. He resembled an upside-down tortoise, limbs uselessly pushing at the air.

Believing one more strike from high above would finish his opponent, Mighty Man leapt into the air.

And landed a foot away.

He tried again, putting his arms out to cut through the sky, but was on the ground within a second. Richard knew that, to Griffin and the rest of the children, he would look like he was jumping up and down in victory.

But the only victory Richard had was a new insight about his superpowers. The laser vision had been used to banish the tentacled monster; super speed had gotten Griffin home quickly; an immense strength had crushed the bat mosquito; Richard had been saved from death by the power of flight. Mighty Man had lots of powers, Richard instinctively knew, but he could only use each once.

‘Hor-ri-ble,’ Harry said sadly.

Richard approached him warily.

Harry was still flailing his arms about but now with less vigour. A huge, green tear escaped the corner of his eye.

Richard’s heart went out to Harry. He was not necessarily a bad man; he had just been angry in the grief of his mother’s passing.

‘Hor-ri-ble,’ he whined quietly.

‘No,’ Richard said softly, ‘you’re not horrible.’ He gently placed a hand on Harry’s cheek. It was cold to the touch.

‘Hor-ri-ble?’

‘No,’ Richard repeated. ‘You’re Harry Ball.’

With an empathy beyond his years, Richard wept for Harry.

Their eyes locked together. Harry smiled. As he began to vanish, his mouth moved one last time.

The words were not spoken aloud, but Richard read the sentiment in his eyes: thank you.