Vigil

Vigil

Mark A Davis

252

Grandpa Anarchy, world's oldest hero, strode into the office building.  He wore his usual rumpled gray suit with the silver anarchy symbol over the left breast.  He rode the elevator to the top floor.  A large painting hung on the wall of the short hallway leading to the rooftop.  Grandpa paused to study it, as he always did.  it depicted a muscular man in a spandex outfit of orange and black with yellow trim, holding up a section of a crumbling bridge as a train sailed over it.  On his chest was a stylized symbol, difficult to make out, depicting a mountain goat.

"Who's that?"  Grandpa glanced down and saw a young boy wearing a wooly, full-body outfit of an off-white color.  He looked like some sort of Doctor Moreau human-sheep hybrid.

"Oh, hello there, Kid Lllama," said Grandpa.  "This is the Great Northern Man in action.  Most people don't remember him, but he was a hero who kept the railroads safe in the forties and early fifties.  I worked with him once, real swell guy.  When he retired, he simply went by Mr. Grumble, the son of a railroad executive who made his own fortune in business.  He built this place, the Justice Tower, in 1957.  To most it's just a thirty-story Manhatten office building, but to some it's the site of the Memorial to Fallen Superheroes.

"I come here a few times a year," Grandpa added.  "Lots of heroes do.  But in particular I come here on the anniversary of the death of the Gentleman Brawler, my mentor.  I do a vigil, once a year, in honor of him.  You know what a vigil is, don't you?"

"When you stay up all night keeping watch?" the boy asked.

"That's it exactly," Grandpa said.

Grandpa walked through glass doors at the end of the hallway and out into a cool even breeze.  The sun was setting in the west, turning the sky brilliant shades of red and orange.  The distant drone of traffic and of honking horns drifted up from far below.  Here were marble statues of angels, set at four corners of a stone gazebo or perhaps an open mausoleum.  The place was filled with the scent of smoke.  A fire burned in a central pit, with a hole in the ceiling above it.  Curved stone benches encircled the flame.  Grandpa took a seat.  He set a small basket and a Stanley thermos beside him.

"Did you want to hold vigil with me?" asked Grandpa.

"Yes, please," said Kid Llama, who'd followed him to the memorial.  "We get to sit down?"

"Well," said Grandpa, "what else are you going to do?  You could maybe stand up and hold a torch or something, but it's a long night and that gets tiring fast."  He  retrieved a box from his breast pocket.  "Look, I brought some cards!"  He pulled them out and began to shuffle.

"You play cards?  On a vigil?" asked the boy.

"Sure," Grandpa replied.  "The point is, we're here.  All night.  That's the vigil part.  You can maybe pray or meditate on the life of a hero if you want, but I'm gonna play some cards."

The boy sat down.  He stared past the flames in the center and exclaimed, "Oh!  Someone's already here!"

Grandpa's eyes widened.  Seated across from them was a woman in a short dress of lavender.  She wore sandals held on by thin straps that wound from ankle to knee.  She had long red-gold hair, and some unusual markings on her forehead and cheeks.  Twin swords of silver were strapped to a darker purple belt.  She had transparent wings, like those of an insect, which were difficult to see in the flickering firelight.

There was a basket beside her as well.

She smiled at them warmly.  "Why, it's Grandpa Anarchy!" she said.  "And your sidekick...?"

"Wow," the boy said.  "You look so pretty!  Almost like a fairy."

"Well, I am part fairly," the woman replied.  "My name's Noctiluna.  What's yours?"

"I'm Kid Llama," the boy replied.  "I can spit really far!"

The woman laughed.  Grandpa said, "Don't let her looks fool ya, Kid.  Noctiluna may look delicate, but she's incredibly tough.  She has remarkable healing abilities, and is frighteningly dangerous with those dual blades of hers."

"Now, Grandpa," said Noctiluna, "you know I only use my weapons on bad guys...."

"What does your name mean?" asked the boy.

"Noctiluna means Night-Shiner," the heroine said.  "It was another name for Luna, the Roman goddess of the moon.  My mother was a night fairy.  Not that I don't love sunlight, but my powers are most strong at night."

"Knock, knock!"  The voice was strong and deep.  "I gather there's already people here?"

The man who stepped inside the gazebo was clearly a hero's hero.  Clean-shaven, square-jawed, blond-haired, eyes of a blue-grey, tall and muscular, with a form-fitting suit of blue and white and yellow, with a bit of red.  There was a star design on his chest, with the letter R in the center.

"Why, it's Grandpa Anarchy!"  the hero exclaimed.  "And Noctiluna!"

"Regnant!" Grandpa exclaimed, extending his hand.  He winced as the hero crushed it with an extremely firm super-handshake.  "You here for a vigil, too?"

"Absolutely I am!" Regnant replied.  "I come here at least twice a year to pay my respects.  I've known several heroes who have unfortunately left us, and it's a hero's duty to remember them -- at least I think so!  You know, as long as we speak their names, as long as we keep them in our hearts, they are never truly gone.  I really believe that!  Plus I find a little quite contemplation really helps focus the mind on the job of doing good in the world!  Don't you?"

"Uh... yeah, something like that," Grandpa  replied.  "This here is Kid Llama.  He's a sidekick.  He can spit with accuracy up to a hundred yards."

Regnant's eyes widened and he shook the sidekick's hand.  "That's a real talent you've got there, Son.  I hope you use it to spit in the face of evil!"

"Thank you, Mr. Regnant," the boy replied.  "What does your name mean?"

"Oh -- it means the same thing as supreme or ascendant," the hero replied.  "At least, that's according to my agent Sal Lowenstein.  To be honest I wanted another name, but Sal said all the good ones were taken, and he got a special deal on this name Regnant.  So that's the name I've been going with for the last three years.  You've never heard of me?"

"No, sorry," said the boy.

"Really?" the hero replied, stroking his chin.  "I'd have thought my cereal alone was famous enough to spread my name everywhere, or at least in New York City.  Or infamous enough, as the case may be -- you know, that story was in all the papers...."

"What story?" the sidekick asked.

There was a long pause.  "Oh, it's not important," Regnant finally said.  "The important part is this:  if you plan on making a career as a hero, pick your agent carefully.  Got it?"

Regnant sat down on the bench.  "Now," he said, "did I hear someone mention cards?"

***

It was dark.  It was late at night -- or perhaps by now it was early morning.  Grandpa Anarchy explained the monument to his sidekick.

"It's an eternal flame," Grandpa said, staring into the fire.  "There's a lot like it.  There's one at the 9/11 site, for example.  This one I lit it in 1921, one year after the Gentleman Brawler's death.

"The original monument was in Frosthaven NJ of course.  Not as fancy as this one, mind you.  When Mr. Grumble build his tower, he proposed moving the memorial here where more people could see it.  But it's still the same flame I lit in 1921.  It's never gone out."

Kid Llama stared at the flickering fire for a long time.

"Never?" he finally asked.

"Never," Grandpa Anarchy replied.

"But, surely..." the kid began.  "I mean, if it had gone out, even if only for a few moments, you know, people would understand...."

"Never happened," Grandpa stated.

"I heard that once, in 1966 when there was a big wind storm...." Regnant began.

"It.  Never.  Happened."  Grandpa glared at the muscular hero.  "That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!"

Regnant changed the subject.

"Say, Grandpa," he said.  "You're a pretty famous hero.  You've got action figures and cartoons and movies and such."

"I do," Grandpa said.  In point of fact, the most recent Grandpa Anarchy movie had been a huge box office success.

"Who do you use for an agent?" asked Regnant.

"I've never really used an agent," Grandpa said.  "What I have instead is my lawyer, Malevolent P. Brimstone.  He works as my agent."

"Pretty good, is he?" asked  Regnant.

"He'd better be, for what I pay him," Grandpa said.  "He's a demon, by the way."

Regnant looked startled.  "A... demon?  You mean...."

"I mean from hell, yes," Grandpa said.  "Red skin, horns, the whole works.  Works for a demonic law firm.  Pretty nice guy all around though, once you get to know him."

"But... a demon?"  Regnant considered this.

"Why?" asked Grandpa.  "Thinking of changing agents?"

"Well, I was...." said Regnant.

"Problems with your current agent?" asked Noctiluna.

"You could say that," Regnant replied.  "I'd tell you about it but it'd take hours, trust me.  How much time have you got?"  He paused, looked around, then said, "Oh yeah.  Right.  Vigil.  Well, I don't really want to tell you the whole story.  Let's just say potentially lethal toys that set themselves on fire is just the tip of the iceberg."

"That sounds terrible!" Noctiluna replied.  "Was that your agent's fault?  I'm sure he meant well...."

"He's... not been very careful, I suppose I'd say," Regnant replied.  "That's just one incident, remember.  But... a demon?  If it comes to that, I think I'll stick with Sal."

"Good choice," Grandpa said.  "You've got a certain image to uphold."

Regnant flashed his twenty-four-karat heroic smile.  "Rather the devil you know than... well, an actual devil, I guess."

"Like I said, Mal's not that bad."

"He's a lawyer, Grandpa," said Noctiluna.

"Well, granted," said Grandpa.  "But at least he's on my side."

For a while the four stared into the fire.

"Grandpa," said the sidekick, "who are some of the other heroes you remember here?"

"Well," said Grandpa Anarchy, "there's really too many to mention, but two big ones are Slay Belle and Monkey's Uncle, heroes that I worked with back in the 1920's.  There's Adjective Man, one of the original members of the League of Two-Fisted Justice, who died in 1972.  This year is the first where I'm honoring Deep Fat Fryer, also a longtime League of Two-Fisted Justice member.  In the past I honored my old partner Guy Shadow and my longtime sidekick Circuit Girl, but both of them are alive again."

"Heroes sometimes come back to life don't they?" the sidekick asked.

"Sometimes they do," Grandpa replied, "if they're really famous.  But it's best not to plan your career as if that's a certainty.  Lots of heroes die and never come back."

"I'm here for my original sidekick, Regnant Lad," said Regnant.  "He was a good sidekick.  Not very smart, but he had a good heart.  I told him to not touch that jade skull...."

"I'm here for my parents," said Noctiluna.  "Mother was a full-blooded fairy who chose to live in the human world as a hero.  Father was just an ordinary human, who decided to don a costume and fight crime.  They both perished while fighting Doctor Totengräber in 1972."

"I remember," said Grandpa.  "They were both very brave."

The heroes stared into the fire, each lost in his or her own thoughts.

***

The sky in the east grew steadily lighter, and soon the sun peaked over the horizon.  Grandpa nudged Kid Llama, who had fallen asleep on a pillow provided by Noctiluna.  "It's daybreak," he said.  "We made it.  Our vigil is over."

Regnant stood.  "Only this night's vigil," he replied.  "We must of course always remain vigilant in the fight against evil, and always keep  the memory of those who have passed in our hearts."  He bowed to each of them in turn.  "Gentlemen and lady, I bid you a good day!  Thank you very much for the company on this night!"

The hero turned and left.  Noctiluna gathered her things.

"I'm very grateful for the company as well," she said.  "And thanks to you, Grandpa Anarchy, for erecting this monument in the first place.  It's a wonderful place to visit and remember those we've loved and lost."

"Well," said Grandpa, "the idea was mine, but it was Mr. Grumble that built it.  His grandson owns the building now."

Noctiluna smiled.  She hugged both of them, and then was also gone.

"They seemed like nice people," said Kid Llama.  He and Grandpa emerged from the gazebo and stood on the building roof.

"Yes," Grandpa replied.  "I always liked them both."

"Did you ever work with either of them?" asked the sidekick.

"Well, I did in the past," Grandpa said.  "Teamed up with each of them once or twice."

Kid Llama stared at Grandpa for a long moment.

"You say that," the sidekick finally said, "as if you can't do so again.  As if... they're already dead.  As if you just spent an evening in vigil with their ghosts."

"Well," said Grandpa, "I have spent vigils with ghosts before.  But Noctiluna and Regnant?  They're as alive as you and... well, as alive as me, anyway."

Kid Llama stared into the morning sun.  "People aren't dead so long as they live on in your memories," he said.  "You'll remember me, won't you, Grandpa?"

"Of course I'll remember you," Grandpa said.  "I always remember my sidekicks, especially  the ones that...."  His voice trailed off.

"And this monument is for all fallen heroes," the boy said.  "Even the sidekicks."

"That's right," said Grandpa.  "Even the sidekicks."

"That makes me happy," the boy in the wooly llama outfit said.  Slowly he faded from view.  Grandpa Anarchy stood on the rooftop, watching the rising sun.

FINI

(in memory of Luna and Ascendant)