Justin - The Thing’s Lament

Reed twists and stretches;

I am huge and inflexible. 
Johnny burns and flies;
I am a cold, earthbound rock.
Susan can disappear and hide away;
I can never hide this hideous, yellow visage.

They all can switch it on and off, their powers, but I am always this. I have no mask or disguise, I am what your fearful eyes see. 

I am the Thing.

I am a trained and skilled pilot with advanced degrees in engineering relegated to play the thug, the heavy. No one wants to hear my thoughts about solving the problem. They just want to hear me yell “It’s Clobberin’ time!” and start throwing my big, boulder fists at the bad guys. 

I could go back, I could be human again, but when I’ve tried, they need me. They need the big, yellow, rock guy to stand in front of them; to break through the obstacles; to take the punishment that they can’t. I could be normal, boring, but what will they do when they need someone to contain and tire out the Hulk when he goes on a rampage? How would I feel when I chose a normal life and wasn’t there to protect them if something happened?

I have been given a chance to make a difference, but is the difference worth the sacrifice? They can do both; they can have a semi-normal, off-duty life. I am always me.

Johnny burns and flies, Reed twists and stretches, Susan can disappear and hide and I am a huge, cold, inflexible rock, stuck on the ground, never able to hide what I am.

I am the Thing.

Jason - Superhero

Iron Man’s Lament

Grabbing the sky at supersonic speeds used to be like caressing the face of God. When rocketing at that velocity in a nearly straight line it is very peaceful looking, but that is an illusion. The feel and the sound of the wind is violent, assaulting your senses. Only my suit keeps me from being ripped apart. When it closes it is completely sealed, not just so it can be submerged, but to keep out the great noise. Additionally, the wind resistance is so great that when I turn off the burners the suit quickly decelerates. It is like the air becomes syrup. Then, if I use the retro burners, the mass of my body slams into the suit. It would be like a car accident in a tin can. So, the inertial dampeners keep the armor itself from killing me.

The problem with the inertial dampeners is when they go out it is when they are needed and fixing them is a bear. So, here I sit looking my TEKTON 1/2-Inch Drive Click Torque Wrench, a tool selected because it can tighten the bolts to precisely the right pounds per square inch, and I don’t care. I can only feel that moment when the dampener went out and the safety override kept me flying past the young woman. I could not save her. I could not stop. The damn suit kept me from doing what I needed to do.

Arsenal. The result of my father’s “Project Tomorrow”. The defective and murderous robot bore down on the girl. I was moving as fast as I could, but my rockets were bouncing off his armor. I needed to get to him and that was the moment, that was the moment the suit malfunctioned. She was gone. Taken. Killed.

How many is it going to be? How many will die in front of me? How many building or bridges have to collapse? How many Arsenals or Dreadnaughts or Immortus will take the lives from my grasp? It really is hopeless! While I’m trying to adjust the settings on my torque wrench who knows what has befallen the world. Hundreds, thousands, and I sit here thinking about the one Arsenal took. I can’t even protect one percent. Heroes, if that is what you want to call me, are basically pointless.

There used to be some joy, some happiness. I felt like I was making a difference, but the color has all drained out. The list I save, the good I do, is nothing compared to the list I can’t do anything about.

Then, even if I could do more, I have to sleep and the darkness will always come while I’m sleeping. Not only that, but there is no one to replace me. I am a blimp on the temporal continuum.

I am not enough.