A large monitor on his desk showed all the major news channels, local and national, each in a small window. They were mostly covering trivia, celebrity news and the latest shootings. The local stations all had helicopters over the third street tunnel, just a few blocks from where Mr. Brown sat.

Anchors and reporters, all teeth and hairdos, talked endlessly about nothing, as they were paid to do.

Mr. Brown’s underground office was usually a source of comfort to him. With his art collection, the communications equipment built into his desk, and the knowledge that he could change the lives of millions of people with a phone call, it reflected and amplified his power.

This morning, however, Mr. Brown was afraid. In less than five minutes he had to make his weekly progress report. He had to connect to a secure line, which ran all speech and data through an algorithm that the NSA couldn’t break. He had to have a conversation with a man whose voice was as empty as his name, the man called Void.

Usually the progress reports were short and simple, and he sent a burst of data with all the financial information for the past week. Today he had to admit to Void that he had lost track of his most important project.

Bots scoured the internet for any new mention of the words “Sun Man.” Maybe in these last minutes before he had to make the call the young superhero would reappear on the grid. Maybe Mr. Smith would have something to say other than, “I failed.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a cheap nylon backpack. He kept it as a connection to the child. Inside was a notebook featuring simple drawings of a superhero.The power fantasies of a simple mind. There was a small selection of clothing, and a picture of an even younger Michael Santis with his parents.

The parents had proven to be very cooperative.

Santis was a commoner, a useless eater. He was born to cattle, and would have lived as one if he hadn’t found the overseer badge in the desert.

The carefully bred and trained overseer candidates were still waiting for their badges while this impostor paraded around in his ridiculous costume.

Ridiculous or not, Santis had to be found. If Mr. Brown had to admit that he lost Sun Man, there would be consequences. Sun Man was the focus of the entire organization. A true hero with overseer powers would be the end of the everything that had taken so long to build. They had to turn the kid, make him their own.

But first they had to find him.

The bait he had placed in the newspaper had not brought him in yet, but it had only appeared this morning, probably too late.

Less than three minutes to go. Mr. Brown willed himself to stay calm. If Void was displeased with his report, another Mr. Brown would be sitting in this chair within a week. He scanned the images on his monitor, knowing that his software would find any mention of Sun Man long before he would. He couldn’t help himself.

When there was less than a minute, Mr. Brown steeled himself. A thought of running, trying to make it to an uninhabited island somewhere, flitted briefly through his mind. He shook his head. It was useless. There was nowhere in the world that would hide him for long. Not from Void, or from the nameless ones above him.

He lifted his hand to activate the phone line.

A gentle ding-dong came from his monitor. The bots opened a window on the monitor and started to list all the sources for the new mentions of Sun Man.

One of the local reporters said, “Sun Man has just flown into the third street tunnel, right through the bubble.”

Another one said, “L.A.’s newest hero, Sun Man, has come to save the day once again.”

All the reporters babbled, and the name Sun Man was uttered over and over, like a mantra.

Mr. Brown’s hands stopped trembling. He activated the phone.

A voice from a grave said, “Report.”

Mr. Brown let out a deep breath and said, “We found him, sir.”

*****

“Sun Man!”

“Sun Man, over here!”

As he emerged from the tunnel, Mike was surrounded by reporters. Jerry was taken to a waiting ambulance. Mike faced the throng.

“Sun Man!” a woman he recognized from a local TV channel shouted. “If you get your powers from the sun, do you still have them at night?”

What the hell? Where did she get that?

Several photographers with long lenses snapped dozens of pictures. “Turn off your light so we can see you!” one of them shouted.

“Is the sun goddess a hot chick?” another one yelled.

Mike’s feelings churned in his head and it didn’t help that the reporters were screaming nonsense. He had been invaded, taken over from the inside out by Jerry’s power. All his powers were useless against the attack of a crazy war veteran.

He still felt the humiliation of being hit square in the face by the villain in the suit of armor. He should be able to defeat an army of medieval knights, and this one had just popped him like he was a stupid kid.

He didn’t know where the knight guy had gone, he didn’t know what the hell the reporters were shouting about, and he felt disgusted at himself for being so easily captured by Jerry’s memories. If it had hadn’t happened in a closed tunnel, the photographers would have pictures of the mighty Sun Man lying on the ground and whimpering.

Without saying a word to the news people, without turning his light off and posing for them as he normally would, Mike took off. He willed himself into the clear blue sky until he was too far up for anyone to see more than a point of light.

Los Angeles was spread below him. It was a thin layer of low buildings interlaced with mountains. The freeways were rivers of restless speed.

Mike Santis had no idea where he was going to go. Mireya’s house was lost in the vast clutter of buildings. He would have better luck finding the Society for Civic Duty building. That was downtown, near the tunnel, in one of the few clusters of skyscrapers in the whole city.

He needed to get back to them anyway. He liked Mireya, but her neighborhood heroes were too small time for Sun Man. He was a world class hero, or would be when he got more training.

One lesson that he should have learned long before was to never turn his light off. Tom was right about that. He had snapped out of Jerry’s control when the knight punched him, and when he turned his light on his mind was not seized again. So the light protected him from more than bullets.

Heading down into the noise and smell of the city, Mike weaved through the downtown buildings. He spotted the building that had been destroyed by the aliens in “Independence Day.” He had watched that video a dozen times at least.

The Society building appeared as he rounded a corner. Mike flew up to the rooftop helicopter pad. Landing lightly, he had to think to himself, “Never turn off the light.”

He walked to the small structure where there was a door to the stairway and an elevator door.

The stairway door was locked.

The elevator button didn’t respond when he pushed it.

Mike could have torn either of them open, but he didn’t think Tom or Mr. Bromgren would appreciate that.

Mike flew off the building and down. Might as well make an entrance through the lobby. He landed in front of a little plaza with a fountain. The building had no name on it, nothing that said what kind of business occupied its many floors.

Something caught Mike’s eye. It was a photo of him, of Sun Man. It was on a low metal box next to the street. A newspaper box. Copies of today’s L.A. Times waited inside for people to pop in fifty cents, open the door, and take one out.

Mike hadn’t read a newspaper since he stopped reading the comics section as a kid. But he was interested in this one. He was splashed on the front of the box, along with the words, “Excusive Interview! SUN MAN!”

Without a thought, Mike grabbed for a newspaper. Glass shattered and steel twisted as the box gave way to his power. He took one paper and looked at the front page. A large picture took up half the upper part of the page, and the interview started next to the picture.

It was a picture of Sun Man, with the white costume, sun burst on his chest, and mirrored goggles, but it wasn’t a picture of Mike. This Sun Man was an Arnold Schwarzenegger wannabe. He was an Olympic weightlifter in the Sun Man costume.

How could this be? Where did this picture come from?

People were watching him. A group had gathered on the sidewalk. A teenaged girl with a pink ball cap on her head took a picture with her cell phone.

He had to read what they said about him. He needed a private place. Back to the roof of the Society building. He flew up and away as newspapers from the box started to blow around the street.

He landed and sat in the middle of the helicopter pad. He started to read.

This headline has not yet topped the front page of this newspaper, but if the white-clad hero who arrived mysteriously just a few weeks ago lives up to his billing, it soon will. Sun Man has rescued workers from a downtown area fire, been instrumental in fighting the recent wildfires that surrounded the city, and trounced a trio of villains in the skies of Los Angeles.

Angelenos have missed the presence of a major superhero since The Golden Oracle disappeared two years ago. Can Sun Man fill the shoes of the Mystic Mage? Sun Man is an old fashioned rock ‘em sock ‘em street fighter, who leads with his fists and his square jaw. The Oracle was more cerebral, using his psychic powers to predict crimes and head them off before they happened. Perhaps what this city needs in this age of terrorism is a back to basics biff bam pow superhero.

It’s not easy to get a man with the power of flight to come to earth and sit for an interview. Nevertheless, there he was, a man of muscle yet it seemed totally at ease within himself.

TIMES: We have to start with the question that everyone asks, I’m sure. How did you get your powers?

SM: It’s a weird story. I was actually homeless, right here in L.A.

TIMES: That’s amazing! And who were you before? How did you become homeless?

SM: Now you know I can’t tell you that. Secret identity and all that.

TIMES: I had to try. I’m a journalist after all.

SM: Ha Ha Ha! So, one day I had this kind of vision. A woman appeared to me and said she was the goddess of the sun. She had chosen me to have the powers of the sun for the benefit of all mankind.

TIMES: Astounding!

Continued on 14A

Who wrote a fake article and put a fake picture in the newspaper? Who could do that? Why would they do it? It filled Mike with fury. He was just about to turn to page 14A when he heard the elevator door open and footsteps come towards him.

He stood just as Missy rushed up and wrapped him in an intense hug. “Oh thank God, Mike, thank God,” she said. “I was so worried about you.” She smelled nice and her breasts pushed against Mike’s chest. Her hair touched his face but he couldn’t feel it through the costume.

Mike realized that he had let his light go out, probably while reading the newspaper. What would happen to someone who touched him when the light was on? If bullets vanish in the light, would it harm people?

Missy pushed away to arm’s length. “Are you all right?” She asked. “Where were you?”

“Let the kid breathe,” another voice said. Tom stood next to Missy and smiled broadly. “We thought those villains got you,” he said.

“I...” Mike said. Then he remembered how mad he was. He thrust the newspaper at Tom. “What is this?” he demanded. “Who did this?”

Tom looked embarrassed. “Don’t blame me, it was Jeremy’s idea.”

“YOU did this?” Mike exploded. “The Society? I thought you were my FRIENDS!”

Mike flew to the elevator and entered it. He pressed the floor button for Jeremy Bromgren’s office and left the surprised Tom and Missy standing on the helicopter pad.

The door to Jeremy’s office was open. That was good, Mike was so angry he didn’t think he could knock on it without breaking it in half. “I want to talk to you about the newspaper!” Mike said.

Jeremy glanced up. “Sit down,” he said.

Mike didn’t want to, but he sat in a straight backed wooden chair that faced Mr. Bromgren’s desk. This better be good, he thought.

“I guess I should have familiarized you with our process,” Jeremy said.

“What?” Mike said.

“We have a standard procedure when dealing with new heroes. Did Missy show you the contract?”

Mike shook his head.

Jeremy picked up his phone and dialed. “Bring in a standard hero contract,” he said. The he smiled at Mike. “Someone really should have discussed the legal aspect of this with you earlier.”

“No one said anything about a contract,” Mike said.

“My fault,” Jeremy said. “I’ve just been busy. Now, what was the problem with the interview?”

“Everything! There was fake picture, nothing in it was true, and I DIDN”T DO AN INTERVIEW!”

Mike almost stood up with the force of shouting the last part.

“Of course nothing in it was true. Villains can read the paper too. We can’t tell them who you are or what your weaknesses are.”

“I...suppose.” Mike sat down again.

“And, well, powerful as you are, you don’t really look the picture of the classic hero. We’d be happy to use your actual picture if you bulk up a little. I can recommend an excellent personal trainer.”

Mike didn’t know what to say.

“As for doing the interview, we feel it’s best if one of our writers composes the answers. They are trained to put you, the hero, in the best possible light. Have you ever been interviewed by a reporter?”

“No.”

“This is the big time, Mike. We’re trying to build your image, and we don’t want you to say something that doesn’t enhance that image. You have to know how to handle a reporter, they will trick you into saying things that you didn’t mean to say.”

Mike shook his head. “I just don’t think it’s honest, as all.” He was trying to stay mad, but Jeremy Bromgren’s soothing tone was making it hard.

“I told you when we met that I would be your publicist, Mike. This is what a publicist does. The good news is we have a deal for a comic book almost clinched, and I’m talking to a cable network about a TV show. If you want to help us to pick an actor, feel free.”

“Wouldn’t it have to be me? In a TV show? Actors can’t fly and stuff.”

“They can with digital effects. Don’t worry about it. You’ll be way too busy heroing, you know, fighting bad guys and all that.”

“But...”

“Heroing doesn’t pay the bills, Mike. You have to establish two or three revenue streams so you’ll have time to fight villains. Just ask any of our heroes, they like having us handle the small stuff so they can concentrate on the being a hero.”

“Who are the other...?” Mike asked.

“You’ll meet everyone eventually.” Jeremy waved his hand to dismiss any mention of other heroes.

A young woman came in the door behind Mike and laid a thick sheaf of papers on Jeremy’s desk. She was dark haired and very thin. She gave Mike a little smile as she left the office.

“Let’s see,” Jeremy said. “Here we go.” He put the contract where Mike could see it. “Just sign on the dotted line, and we’ll get back to your training.” He laid a ball point pen on top of the contract.

Mike hesitated. “I think I should read it,” he said. The voice of his father suddenly filled his head. Mike didn’t have any respect for the man, but he couldn’t help hearing “Don’t sign anything until you read it,” and “They’ll screw you as soon as look at you.”

For as long as Mike could remember, Bob Santis had been bitter about a business deal that he said had ruined his life. Whenever he had a drink or eight in him, he would complain about the partner who he trusted and who had destroyed him.

Mike could see the old man’s comb-over coming undone and spittle flying as he recalled the betrayal of a legal clause that had left the Santis family living in a trailer while the partner got a job on Wall Street.

“I see,” Jeremy Bromgren said. “That’s fine. If you don’t trust us after we rescued you from homelessness, put you up in a hotel suite, after we treated you like family, then that’s just fine.”

“I...can you at least tell me what it says?”

Jeremy picked up the contract with an exaggerated flourish. “It says we will make you a worldwide star, a superhero for the ages, and filthy rich to boot,” He said without even looking at the contract. “If that doesn’t sound good to you, maybe you’re not the right person to be Sun Man.”

Did he hear that right? Mike thought. “I am Sun Man,” he said.

“Sun Man,” Jeremy said, “is a registered trademark of one of our subsidiary corporations. We own the name and likeness. We can hire anyone we want to play the part.”

“WHAT?” Mike stood up and let his light flare. “Play the part! I AM SUN MAN! I have the powers!” He leaned forward over the desk and put his glowing hand on Jeremy’s throat.

“I can snap your neck without thinking!” Mike shouted. “I can tear this building down!”

Jeremy just looked annoyed. “Is that what a hero does?” he asked. “Or are you going villain on us? Do you want The Protectors after you? Do you want a life of living in secret and watching over your shoulder?”

Mike’s anger seethed within him. It had to go somewhere. He took his hand from Jeremy’s neck and brought it down hard on the desk.

Instead of dramatically splitting the desk in two, which was what Mike expected to do, he simply put a big hole in the polished surface. So he turned his anger on himself.

Mike pulled on his Sun Man costume and it came off in shreds. He flung pieces of cloth all over the office. “Screw Sun Man!” he shouted. “I never liked the name anyway!” He pulled the shoes off and threw them. One of them went through the wall leaving a hole.

He realized he was wearing nothing but the tight superhero underwear and the mask. Mike pulled the mask and goggles off.

“I don’t need the damn Society for damn Civic damn Duty!” He threw the mask down.

“I have other friends now! They’ll help me!”

Mike paused and breathed hard for a moment.

“If you’re leaving,” Jeremy said, “you’ll have to turn in all items supplied to you by the Society.”

Turn in what? Mike thought. He was nearly naked.

Jeremy pointed at the special underwear. “We own those too,” he said.