Heroic Measures (continued)

Walter pulled on his own gloves, flexing his fingers to better align the thick filaments within them. He snapped the wristbands closed, completing the circuit that run through his entire suit. Around him, the other heroes were in similar stages of completing their preparations.

There was surprisingly little conversation. Small pockets of discussion erupted here and there among grouped sets of heroes, but the ambient hum of banter was missing. Walter took that as a bad sign. It meant that most of the heroes were focused on their own thoughts and concerns, not participating in the humorous and boastful exchanges that helped to build morale . . . or esprit de corps, Walter remembered it being called.

Glancing around the room, Walter wondered where Vivian was and how she was handling it. Despite the purportedly more enlightened standards of gender equality, they had chosen to segregate the men and women into separate spaces. It was, Walter suspected, more a nod to personal modesty than any digression in social standards. Some individuals just felt uncomfortable undressing in the company of the opposite sex, regardless of the necessities of the situation.

Walter could understand that. It was a school-age dread that he had never truly outgrown. He had learned, over the years, to cope with it by forcing himself to focus on other matters during the moments of dressing and undressing, trying to think that other men in the room might be assessing the size and quality of his genital parts. It would have been far worse, he had finally decided, to be subject to the same public consideration by women and found wanting.

Not that any of them had ever complained . . .

The thought of seeing Valerie naked terrified him. She was an imposing enough figure as it was, and had to be in order to support the armor that she wore. From what he had heard, her sexual appetites were not limited to men—or women, if the rumors were to be believed—of a similar stature. In fact, she appeared to prefer partners with somewhat less body mass than herself, leading to a half-formed mental picture that just serve to further Walter’s anxiety in that direction.

Even under these conditions, the prospect of witnessing Vivian, or even Isabel, in even just her underwear would likely provide a mental distraction later that he did not need. Such images tended to crop up at awkward moments, and he did not need any of those during the hours to come.

It might give me something to live for, though, he thought wryly and without humor.

“Who is she?”

Red’s voice cut through his reverie. Walter felt his cheeks prickle with warmth. In answer, he just stared back at Red dumbly.

Red shrugged, although with a bright spark of amusement in his eyes. “It’s not uncommon,” he said. “Men often go off into battle with women on their mind. I think it’s some kind of survival mechanism.”

Walter continued to stare at Red. His friend and fellow hero was completely dressed now, clad in his bright red suit with equally vibrant yellow boots and gloves. His protective visor dangled from one hand.

“Two of them, actually,” Walter admitted sheepishly, his voice quiet as not to be overheard.

Red’s eyebrows rose with approval and he smiled. “Nice,” he said, nodding slightly. His gaze moved across the others in the room. “A little kinky, but nice.”

His eyes returned to Walter.

“I always knew you had it in you,” he added, giving Walter a quick wink.

Walter felt his cheeks growing warm again and looked away. This was not what he wanted remembered about him in what might his final hours.