The Star-Spangled Giant (Chapter 4) (Patreon)

[Charles Reid POV]

Though I’m technically director of G.U.A.R.D. and all its heroes, I can’t help but keep a closer eye on the Star-Spangled Giant specifically, partly because of that leftover flicker of passion I feel for the lady from time to time, but also due to the simple fact that she’s a hero worthy of admiring and even holding up as a model. Certainly she can grow big enough so that every super on our roster should be able to see her and know that’s the ideal they ought to be aiming for. If I had my way, she’d be the leader of the whole damn squad.

Two hours later, I’m on the phone with the Agency liaison to the White House, Katherine Barkley, and trying to think happy thoughts.

“It really was a marvelous save, wasn’t it, Charles? Did you see that CNN footage of her catching the runaway caboose right before it went off the rails?” Katherine exclaims.

“Yes, I saw.” I can’t disagree with her, even though the self-promoting selfie-snapping arrogance of Athena and her fellow super-powered glory-seekers stings fresh in my mind. But I hold my tongue.

“There’s a school just down the hill from there! Imagine the catastrophe if she hadn’t been there. Listen, I know she’s only been on duty a couple months, but this one’s a natural.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“I hear the President is already talking about giving her a medal of some kind. Just imagine all the positive publicity! I’m telling you, we need this Athena-girl front and center, maybe teaching some of the new recruits how to act under pressure. And see, she’s still so approachable, with all those funny pictures? She even answers her fans who leave comments! How sweet!”

“Yes, they sure were nice pictures.”

After this conversation, I have to refrain from trading my coffee for bourbon. So much for internally disciplining Stature of Liberty or Athena or whatever she goes by this week. Every time I think I’ve got the chance to make a point to these new supers and set them back on path of pure truth, justice, and the American etcetera etcetera, the president hijacks my teaching opportunity because he’s so desperate to restore the nation’s lightly-tarnished prestige back to its old golden status. I agree with his goal, of course, but his way of only using the carrot from the carrot-and-stick method is going to leave this Agency full of pompous supers with egos the size of skyscrapers, larger even than they could ever hope to grow in stature and strength.

I’m sure Star-Spangled Giant would back me up on this one, as some of our conversations about the best ways to mold the latest generation have indicated she’s no fan of this youth fascination with turning super-heroics into a show-off contest. Frankly, I’d much rather see her getting a medal from the president. After all, it was less than a week ago that she single-handedly stopped a Delta-class growing kaiju from gobbling up a bunch of mall patrons. That’s small potatoes, I suppose, especially for someone like her who spends her weekends stopping much-bigger monsters from obliterating whole coastlines, but she still saved a lot of lives and put down a creature the size of a blue whale. But I guess the headline isn’t as grabby for the president when the rescue didn’t involve preserving the lives of politicians.

Still, it’s enough for Star-Spangled Giant that she got the job done and no one was killed, which is why we all do this in the first place, so I keep my mouth shut. She, unlike most, doesn’t need the attention. Plus, she managed to keep our own damage-control accountant George Leonard from biting the dust. The guy’s a little bit of an oddball, always spouting off about property rights and who-cares-what, but he knows his numbers. When I get a breather after all the hubbub with Athena’s train rescue is sorted, I figure I’ll be the nice boss and give the man a call while he recuperates back home.

“Glad to hear you’re almost back on your feet, George,” I say after our usual clumsy greeting. “Got somebody taking care of you over there?”

“Yes, my… roommate Barbara. She’s just a real doll.”

“I’m sure she is. Get better, ya hear? We need somebody with your know-how making sure all the funds get put in the right places after that fight Gargantua had with that shark-looking thing the size of the Chrysler last week. But, you know. Take all the time you need.” 

“It’s just as well. That’s at least one cost you can keep from sucking up taxpayer dollars for a few days.”

“Ah, that’s the George we know. Sounds like getting a wall dropped on you didn’t squeeze the libertarianism out. Just so long as you hang onto the arithmetic, that’s all we care about,” I answer. “Though, you know your salary isn’t affected by brief time off for injuries, right?”

“Oh.”

“Well, now you can say you’re a veteran of a super-rescue. I swear it’s a miracle you reached adulthood without seeing at least one. And you got saved by the best big lady in the business, so whatever scars you may or may not come away with, try to look at it as a badge of honor.”

“Y-Yeah, the Star-Spangled Giant. I didn’t see her for long before I blacked out, but… wow.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” I say with a laugh. “She’s really something.”

Following that, our chat turns into a ten-minute-long gush-fest singing the virtues of our beloved red, white, and blue giantess. In a funny way, once I’ve hung up with George after sharing in our mutual adoration for Star-Spangled Giant, I’ve got just enough optimism to weather the storm of wild-card dilemmas headed my way for the rest of this 5-to-9 slog. Sometimes the job’s really not so bad, all things considered, when you’ve got someone to look up to.