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Space Lord and Robotman

“Cross-Roads” by Martin Maenza

His muscles ached in places that Space Lord forgot existed.

The Throjean man held his own against the monstrous Grond who put up quite a struggle. Most Earthmen of Space Lord’s age were retired or in nursing homes; he figured that he still had a few more years of crusading left in him.

Having teammates like Robotman by his side helped make the battle go a lot quicker. While the elder man in green and red held the huge hulking villain’s multiple sets of arms back - not an easy task by any means, the armored hero was able to deliver the final blow. With a solid punch to the jaw, the monstrosity was down for the count.

The heroes’ plan was to deposit the beaten Grond in an awaiting Stronghold cell and to be on their way home. An hour of rest and relaxation would have been a welcome end to a long afternoon.

However, Phillip Wright had been quite excited when they arrived at the high security compound. “Oh, you simply must tour the place,” Wright said. “I insist. It isn’t every day that such world-renowned superheroes visit our New Jersey facility.”

“Well,” Space Lord said as he considered the invitation.

“We really should be attending to other things,” Robotman said gruffly.

“Please,” Wright begged. “I think you will find that our Stronghold has many features you simply do not see in the others across the country.”

Space Lord turned to his comrade and gave him a silent turn of the head. Robotman rolled his eyes back and said reluctantly “fine.”

The elder hero turned back to the warden. “I think we can spare a few minutes for a tour after all, Mr. Wright.”

The warden beamed and escorted them out of his office.

That was two hours ago.

Throughout the tour, the armored hero appeared quiet and withdrawn. Space Lord noted that this behavior fit the recent pattern he had observed in his son-in-law.

During the height of battle, Robotman always led the charge. His combat prowess was the same today as it was the day that they fought for their freedom from conquering race known as the Destroyers.

However, when the battles were over, introspection set in. He never joined the others for poker games after the Justice Gang meetings any more. Only visits from his son Jonah sparked any personal enthusiasm. And even that was fairly subdued.

The elder hero decided that this had gone on for too long without some intervention. It was time for him to do something about it. Perhaps after we leave the Stronghold, he thought to himself. We can go and have some dinner or perhaps take in some jazz at one of the small clubs in downtown Chicago.

Despite what he was pondering, Space Lord smiled a lot during the tour and appeared to show genuine interest in what Mr. Wright was presenting to them. From working directly with the government’s extraterrestrial operations recently, he recognized a public relations pitch when he heard one. Still, it was obvious that Wright was proud of the programs that his facility had originated.

The final stop on the tour was a reception at Wright’s office. There were finger sandwiches and other light fare along with a bowl of punch and most of the key personnel present. There was even a photographer present to snap the occasional “candid” shot.

How the warden managed to pull this together on such short notice was a mystery. Perhaps this was standard operation procedure should any dignitaries happen to visit the prison. Still, they never were out of Wright’s presence for more than a few minutes at a time. Clearly he had his staff well-trained in this sort of thing.

“How nice,” Space Lord remarked casually as he surveyed the spread on the tables. Truthfully, he had enough to think about without adding this to the list. As he mingled with the staff, he kept an eye on his armored comrade who had just stepped out on the balcony alone.

Mr. Wright tapped him on the shoulder. “Space Lord, I believe you know my head of Security and Inmate Control,” the warden proudly introduced the newcomer to the room. “This is Johnny Sullivan, the Target.”

A well-built young man wearing a red body suit, with black markings on the leggings and sleeves, approached the pair. “Space Lord, good to see you again,” the Target said. “What’s it been – almost three years now?”

“Yes, just before you started here, if I recall correctly.” The elder hero remembered how Sullivan had started out as a member of the criminal team called the Mercenaries. All of New York City would have been leveled by an atomic missile if not for the change of heart by the young man standing before him.   After a few years as an inmate of the Stronghold as well as some personal endorsements by various members of the Justice Gang, Sullivan earned his parole. Now, he was trying to reform others.

“The Justice Gang has been an inspiration to me,” the Target said as he extended his hand. “I just wanted to say ‘thanks’ for being a fine role model.”

“You’re quite welcome, son,” Space Lord said as he took the offering. The two men shook, and a flash bulb went off. The photographer clearly recognized a photo opportunity.

“If you ever get tired of the front lines, we could always use a fine, upstanding hero like yourself in the correctional field, Space Lord,” the warden chimed in as he pushed up his glasses nervously. “Not that I’m implying you might want to retire, mind you.”

“Yes, yes,” the elder hero said absently as his eyes wandered momentarily. “I will have to keep your offer in mind.”

The balcony was now empty. Robotman was gone, but where?

“Gentlemen, if you will excuse me please,” Space Lord said. He made his way across the room as casually as possible.

By the time he reached the balcony rail and looked down, the exercise yard was a flurry of activity!

“Target, have your team meet me in the yard at once!” Space Lord ordered before vaulting over the rail. As he flew down, he could see that the guards in the yard already had their hands full with keeping the inmates in line.

Many of the inmates were hollering as they strained to see the spectacle that was unfolding before them. And Robotman appeared to be at the center of the commotion.

Space Lord landed and tried to make his way through the crowd of men. “One side, one side please,” he said as he firmly but carefully moved those in his way aside. He wanted to get close enough to discover why his teammate had rushed off so suddenly.

Even in the gray coveralls that every other inmate wore, Harry Hobard still held himself with a regal posture. After all, he always believed himself to be better than those others around him. Thus the reason he rechristened himself ‘Prince Pyro’ when he began his career as a costumed criminal.

The special restraints on his hands which held back his flame powers did not in any way appear to bind his ego. The villain acknowledged the arrival of the armored hero with a wicked smile. “Robotman, what a pleasant surprise,” the man said smugly. “How’s the Mrs.?”

“How’s the Mrs.?” Robotman spat angrily. He slammed his armored fist right into Pyro’s jaw. “You son of a bitch!”

The criminal was thrown a few feet in the air before landing in the dirt. Blood dripped from his lip. Though his face was turning red and his neck muscles tightened from the pain, the grin remained on the man’s face. “What’s the matter?” the man asked knowingly. “Did my mere words pierce the shining knight’s armor?” He started to laugh.

Robotman rushed forward and grabbed Pyro by the front of his shirt, hoisting him into the air. “That’s it! It’s the end of the line for you, you bastard! I should have come here and done this a long time ago!”

“You wouldn’t,” Pyro mocked him. “You can’t. What would your adoring public think?”

Robotman responded by knocking the villain to the ground once more.

The criminal landed on his chest, and then slowly he turned over to try and see the next shot coming. No longer did he carry an air of confidence; Pyro’s face was beginning to show a genuine fear for his life.

“No more taunts? No more smart words?” Robotman shouted. “Come on! It makes no difference to me now!” He pointed his wrist laser at the criminal’s head. “This is for what you took away from me!

Pyro winced, his eyes closed tightly so he couldn’t see what came next.

“Robotman, stop!” Space Lord tackled the armored hero before he could fire as he intended.

Both heroes tumbled to the ground; the laser blast charred the ground mere feet from its intended target.

Space Lord had not used his full strength. He had hoped the attack on Robotman would be enough to bring his comrade back to his senses. “What were you thinking, son?” he asked.

The armored hero swept his leg around, pushing the gray haired hero off of him. “That’s Prince Pyro!” he exclaimed. “You as well as anybody should know what I was doing and why!” Robotman got to his feet and turned back to his quarry.

Prince Pyro was scrambling along the ground, trying to get away from the situation. His face was much bruised to the point that the swelling was impeding his vision. He just knew he could not stand still like a sitting duck.

“That’s right, coward! Run!” Robotman said as he prepared to take aim again. “It won’t do you any good.” Before he could get his prey in his sights, a large figure stepped in between them.

The figure threw forth his broad chest, a pattern of black concentric circles on the red material filled Robotman’s vision.

“You have one second to move, kid!” The armored hero hesitated then fired.

“There’s a reason I’m called ‘the Target’,” the young costumed man said.    He stood fast as the laser blast bounced off of his chest. “I can take just about anything you can throw at me.” He took a step forward. “Now, why not just be a good good-guy, and we can end this right now?” His inexperience showed when he did not anticipate Robotman’s next move.

In a metallic blur, Robotman rushed to a crowd of inmates and selected one at random. “You want to play nurse-maid to the lowlifes, kid? Fine. I hope you’re fast on your feet then. This guy will be counting on it!”

“No, don’t!” the grabbed man pleaded.

Robotman ignored the cries and tossed the squirming inmate into the air.

“You’re crazy!” the Target stated as he saw the body head upwards and then quickly start to fall. Still, he moved as fast as he could to attempt an interception. He had to dive, but he managed to catch hold of the man and pull him close to his body. Target hit the ground on his left shoulder, taking the brunt of the impact. He rolled and put the inmate down to the ground gently. He recognized the man. “You okay, Louie?” he asked.

The inmate was shaken by the whole thing, since it happened so fast. But he managed to nod an affirmative.

“Good,” Target said with a smile. “You get down to the Infirmary just in case. Have Dr. Meltzer give you a good once over, okay?”

Louie nodded again. “Thanks, Target,” he said.

The stunt had given Robotman enough time to track Pyro and get his sights on him once more. “Come on, punk!” he said. “Beg for mercy! I’ll show you as much compassion as you showed my wife!”

Space Lord realized he had to end this quickly, before anyone was injured further. His wristbands instantly glowed with red-hot intensity. Roebrt, I am sorry, he thought as he fired a double blast that hit Robotman square in the back. The armored hero was knocked to the ground.

The elder hero knew that wouldn’t be enough. Quickly, he was upon the fallen man.

“Get off!” Robotman exclaimed as he tried to break the hold but could not.

“No!” Space Lord said firmly.

Target had brushed himself off and was running towards them. “Need a hand, sir?” he asked. Secretly, he was hoping for an okay, just so he could show Robotman that no one pulled stunts like that at his facility. It didn’t matter how renowned a guest you were.

“I’ll deal with it, Target!” Space Lord said. He turned to Robotman who was squirming in his grasp. “We need to talk alone, son.” At his thought, his flight belt kicked in, lifting the two up and away from the prison yard. In moments, they were far away from the situation and any listening ears.

Robotman continued to struggle. “Xanis, let go now!”

Space Lord felt the pressure as his son-in-law’s augmented strength provided by his armored battle suit attempted to break the bear-hug hold. “No!” He grunted a bit as his strength was put to the test. “What was all that about back there? It’s not like you to blatantly attack an unarmed man.”

“You can’t be serious, Xanis!” Robotman replied. “You know what this is all about!” The struggling caused their flight to get a bit erratic.

The pair swooped down a bit, nearly missing a set of trees. Space Lord did his best to correct the situation. “I know what it is about, but attacking an unarmed man is not something we do.”

“Morga was unarmed and powerless when Pyro murdered her!” Robotman was near to breaking the elder hero’s grip. “We recovered her gemstone months later, but we know she was burned alive by Pyro’s hand! He had no compassion, so why the hell should I?”

Space Lord couldn’t hold him any longer; he finally released him before they crashed into an open field. “There!” He landed on the grass a dozen or so feet away.

Robotman staggered a bit, barely landing on his feet and then turned. Even hidden behind the faceplate of his armor, his eyes showed the anger and frustration. Some of that was now a result of Space Lord’s actions. The armored man roared as he lunged forward, his right fist leading the charge.

Space Lord caught the punch and shoved him backwards. “You need to cool down, Roebrt!” he advised sternly.

“I could just go back and finish it, Xanis>!” Robotman grumbled. “You can’t stop me!”

“Try me, son.”

The two men stared silently at one another for a few moments.

Space Lord had suspected that the loss of the woman he loved was what had been at the root of Robotman’s moods. Coming face to face with the man responsible for her death after all these months must have driven him finally over the edge. Still, he was not about to let his good friend - his family member - hide behind the face-plate of his armor.

Robotman lunged at him again.

“Son, I understand your anger,” the elder hero said as he caught Robotman about the shoulders. He dug in his feet and pushed back. “We both lost someone very precious to us that day. I recall that the times you seemed the most happy were when you were with her. She loved you so very much.”

“I loved her more than life itself,” Robotman growled as he took a swing. Space Lord pulled back a bit and barely avoided being punched in the face. “And that is why it hurts me so, when I think about how I wanted to see Pyro pay for what he did!”

“I too wanted to see Pyro pay for his crime. Yet justice was served.” Space Lord pushed Robotman back, breaking his hold. “Pyro was found guilty of murder and is to spend the rest of his natural life in the Stronghold. He has no chance for parole. Justice has prevailed.”

“Justice! What a joke!” Robotman cried. His stance became more defensive as he spoke. “A man deliberately kills a defenseless woman, ends up becoming a ward of the state with a roof over his head and three square meals a day, and you call that justice? That’s a load of crap, Xanis!”

“That’s the system,” Space Lord reminded him. “When we came to this world, we agreed to live by its laws.”

Robotman shook his armored fist in rage. “Back on Xarvius, a murderer like Pyro who had killed someone of such high standing as my wife would have been put to death in a public execution, in a manner similar to that of his victim! He would never have the opportunity to inflict harm on anyone ever again!”

“The legal system of this country has a death penalty,” Space Lord reminded him. “Though it does not always get carried out, when it does it might not be as timely as some would prefer.”

“On Xarvius, a death sentence would happen instantly! No trial. Just swift and complete retribution. Maybe it is time to adopt the Xarvian ways…” He smacked his fist into his other hand for emphasis. The sound of metal gauntlet on metal gauntlet rang through the air.

“This is not your home world, son.” Space Lord kept himself in check, trying to remain calm. Another round of blows between the two of them would not solve the problem. I have to appeal to his intelligence. It’s the only way. “Remember when we first met – Morga, Jagrinn, you and I?”

“Of course!” Robotman nodded. “That day changed all of our lives.”

“It did indeed. We all had seen first hand how the Destroyers disregarded any life but their own,” the elder hero continued. “They imprisoned us without trial, claiming our very existence was enough of a crime against their race. They exterminated entire worlds for no apparent reason at all. The world that Morga and I called home was one of those.

“When we escaped their prison colony and came to Earth, we all agreed that in order to fit in here we had to honor this world’s laws. We had to serve and protect this world we adopted in the fashion in which its people lived. We joined the other heroes of this world who felt the same way. That’s why we called ourselves the Justice Gang.”

“Perhaps we were naïve in those first thoughts!” Robotman countered. “As we have learned, even among the various countries of this world, there are many forms of justice. Some do believe in an eye for an eye. That is what I am advocating now! Pyro’s life should be taken away because he took Morga’s.”

“The Justice Gang was not founded on those principles,” Space Lord said. “We agreed to allow the legal systems of the countries where the crimes were committed to handle the judicial process. We’re no more than deputized extensions of the police forces. We stop the criminals. We do not prosecute or judge them.”

Robotman shook his head. “No, I do not see that as enough. After twenty years, I see that does not work at all! For every criminal we put down, three more rise up to take his place. And then the first one comes back again. And again and again and again! Tell me, Xanis, when does it end?”

Space Lord did not have an answer for that one. He too once wondered the same thing but dismissed it. Thoughts like that could only undermine the very foundation of a hero’s motivation. Robotman was starting to prove his theory on that.

The elder hero extended his hand forward. “Roebrt, let your family and friends help you through this. The Justice Gang has done a lot of good over the years. Just as we help the world, we can help…”

“No, Xanis!” Robotman slapped the offered hand away. “I’ve decided to leave that dream to the foolish and the young! When Morga died, that dream died for me too.” He reached for his belt and detached a small device from it. He tossed it to Space Lord. “It has just taken me all this time to realize it!”

Xanis Calnar didn’t have to look to see what it was. He knew what it was and what the gesture meant. Before he could say a word, Robotman had turned and rocketed off to the west. He’s heading home, toward Chicago, Space Lord thought. If he were going after Pyro again, he would have flown east.

The gray haired hero sighed. I need to let him go, at least for now. He’s angry but hopefully I got him to think about it. Silently, he stared at the Justice Gang communication device in his hand. It’s best to let him have some time to cool off, to clear his head.

And a realization came to him. I’m the last of the founding four, the final root to the past, to the ideal of freedom and justice that we all fought so hard for all those years.

His daughter was gone. Man-Wolf was gone. And now, it appeared, that Robotman was calling it quits.

Carefully, he closed his hand and held the device in a firm grip.

No! The dream, the heroic ideal is not dead! I can see it in my grandson Jonah, in young men like the Target, and the other heroes of their generation. Now, more than ever, people like I need to serve as an example to them and to those who will follow.

And maybe, someday, I might even be able to convince Roebrt to join the cause again.

Space Lord was not ready to lose another of his family so quickly. He would keep on trying, keep being there for support, and do whatever it took to bring the lost sheep back to the flock.