Minister Faust by From (html) (best ereader for pdf txt) 📗

and then straightened up to salute before sitting down in the front row.

I expected to see Kareem scowling, but the X-Man’s face was a charcoal portrait of unreadability.

I was less surprised to see the Brotherfly looking as he did, tears leaking from beneath his Fly Goggles. A week earlier I could never have imagined that such an aimless, hyperactive, socially inappropriate, and vain young man could experience loss at such a depth. But from André’s explosion in therapy two days before and given his absence until now, he’d begun revealing himself as a more complex person than anyone could have deduced.

When the Greatest Defenders Are Rendered Defenseless

Throughout the morning’s speeches, the anticipation in the crowd thickened like smog on a hot Los Ditkos day, awaiting the words of the man whose name was synonymous with hero.

“Afternoon, y’all,” said Wally. “Or, I mean, g’mornin. This…this was a day…wellsir, a day I…I ain’never spectid t’see in, well…not in my lifetime, anyway.”

Wally stood awkwardly at the podium, the eastern sun gilding one side of his face, the reflected sun from the Pyramid blueing the other side of his visage. He tugged at his white collar, straightened his black tie, pulled at his black jacket and white cape, rearranged his black epaulets, hunched his shoulders in his famous manner, while the sole camera crew allowed inside—from Piltdown News Network—sent the image of the world’s mightiest fidgetter to an estimated audience of three billion people.

“I never knew anybody like Mr. King. He was powerful smart. Powerful wise. Powerful powerful. He recruited me. Taught me how t’use m’powers. Always kept my compass pointin north. An so for me, t’be, t’be standin here in fronta y’all like this, without im….” He looked down to the sarcophagus. “Well—”

He stopped to clear his throat into the microphone, a sound like a walrus yelp, then began clasping his hand and yanking at his fingers as if he could detach them.

All around me, I saw the faces of people expecting to be comforted by Omnipotent Man’s wisdom shifting from morose to anxious, anxious to angry, and angry to confused.

“See, times like these, now,” said Wally, hunching his shoulders ever more hunchedly, as if he were being transformed into a panda bear, “they tell a man, even when sometimes he in’t inclined to be listnin, that suh’m…suh’m’s…wrong. The Gooterdimmerang’s done been over for years. The villains is all retired, beaten down, locked up, or dead. An here we are…I mean, alla us…like a big ol slumber party messin around in our finest three-color peejays…an meanwhile we jess found out—”

Wally’s voice caught in his throat, like a mouse bisected in a trap.

He dehunched his shoulders and took a breath, then let it out shudderingly.

“…jess found out…thet Daddy’s dead.”

Wally bowed his head to his raised cuff, dabbing his cheeks and eyes. Across from me, heroes such as Atomic Giraffe, Chloro Phyllis, and King’s English immediately did the same.

“So…well…t’be honest, I jess don’know anymore. Who I’m sposta be. What the world thinks is right if fellers like ol Hawk King c’n jest up an die. Maybe th’world should figger its own way outta troubles from now on. Looks safe enough from where I’m sittin.”

He took a quick breath, visibly making a decision.

“An so, ffective immediate-like, I am resignin as the world’s mightiest man an retirin to private life.”

Shock smashed through the crowd like a wrecking ball through a tea party.

“So, uh…thank y’all, ’Merica, planet Earth. Nice knowin yuh.”

And with that, Omnipotent Man rose like a humanoid zeppelin above the anger and wailing, up, up, and away from Sunhawk Island.

Just before the second bomb exploded.

Sublimating Grief Doesn’t Make It Brief

Brothers and sisters, ladies and gentlemen, friends and…enemies,” said Kareem after the furor had died enough for him to take to the podium. “I greet you in the ancient manner of the splendor-power-and-triumph of the Forty-Two Chambers: Dã’f xu, us em maãxeru.”

Members of the L*A*B and some of the Supa Soul Sistas intoned their response: “Maa-ten neferu-f.”

“And I also greet you in the name of other great and fallen heroes, such as the Son of Nat Turner, killed by Kyklos the Imperial Grand Dragon in 1991; the Brother from the HOOD, killed in a nightclub in 1992, and the man who was an inspiration to me and all of Stun-Glas, who inspired all of us who joined the L*A*B; Maximus Security”—scattering of applause, mm-hm!s and A-mens from the same area—“who was killed in Reagan’s war against New Atlantis back in 1984.” (Grumbling from other areas of the crowd, especially from the coterie around Mr. Piltdown.)

“This morning, I’d like to say a few words about the hero whose life we’re here to honor, because just as I and many others are increasingly convinced—yes, that’s right, I’m saying it—convinced that we aren’t being told the truth about Hawk King’s death, I know that practically nobody has been told the truth about Hawk King’s life.”

Grumbling surged, joined by ejaculations of Preach, brother! and Break it down. X-Man waited for both grumbling and support to subside, then leaned into the silence to proceed.

“First, I’d like to acknowledge the League of Angry Blackmen, who are here in full effect. Every Brother in the League, I’m sure, is taking this as hard as I am. Because after Maximus Security died, it was Hawk King who stepped up, who inspired every last one of us, to be what we are. Protectors. Defenders.

“Everybody here knows the official story. Hawk King was Heru, who those who don’t know better call Horus—the avenging son of Lord Usir, the Egyptian savior Osiris. As Hawk King, he intervened seven thousand years ago in the world of men—and women, yes, sorry, Sisters—to wage his ongoing battle on Earth against his evil uncle, Warmaster Set, or out amongst the stars against the cosmic serpent Ããpep, and to pursue the cosmic mysteries that consumed his incalculable intellect. And when he came back in 1937, he helped save Europe from the Nazis, and later on from threats such as