I'll Become the Greatest John

As the play button was pressed, the tape began turning steadily.

This time, instead of the frantic, frenzied drumbeats from before, a low, gentle piano intro came through, followed by the lead singer's penetrating, stirring voice.

It was the classic "We Are the Champions."

John listened quietly.

Although he still couldn't understand the complicated English words, he keenly sensed the pride in the melody, the feeling of holding one's head high even after suffering setbacks.

Lynn leaned against the cushion, watching the little boy's focused profile, and felt a wave of ease himself.

He casually picked up the Rubik's Cube beside him, one face of which John had solved, and clumsily began trying to solve a second face.

"Lynn."

When the song ended, John took off the headphones, his eyes a little puzzled. "What's he singing about? It sounds like he won something, but he's also a little sad."

"He's singing about champions."

Lynn put down the Rubik's Cube, which was only getting more scrambled with every turn, and patiently explained, "That means people who keep fighting to the very end to protect others, or to stand up for what they believe is right. They might get hurt and suffer along the way, but in the end, they reach the top."

John gazed thoughtfully at the portable cassette player in his hands. "If I break the legs of all the bad people who break the rules, will I be a champion?"

"That's part of it, I suppose."

Lynn smiled. "But a true champion has to do more than defeat bad people. He also has to protect the weak and make everyone willing to trust him. If you only beat people up for the sake of beating them up, that just makes you a violent brute. Even if you win, people will only fear you. They won't see you as a champion."

John nodded, only half understanding, and carefully set the headphones on the cushion, handling them as gently as a precious treasure.

At the same time, the atmosphere in the medical room at the far end of Sector B was nowhere near as warm.

The heavy smell of disinfectant filled the air.

Wearing a surgical mask, Dr. Sarah held a pair of medical scissors and carefully cut open the badly damaged black tactical suit covering Black Noir's arm.

Beneath the tactical suit was a horrifying wound deep enough to expose bone.

The flesh around its edges was an eerie, scorched black, as though it had been seared in an instant by some intense heat, but it hadn't completely carbonized. Yellow fluid with a faint sulfurous smell was even seeping out.

"How many times have I told you? Can't you wear some equipment with a protective coating when you go on missions?"

Frowning, Sarah took out a bottle of specially formulated wound cleanser and poured it onto the wound without ceremony.

As a puff of white smoke rose, Black Noir's tall frame merely trembled slightly. He didn't even grunt.

He sat quietly on the treatment bed, like a silent, rusting iron tower.

On the next bed, the fat man, Bob, whose finger was still in a splint, was enjoying the show.

"My God, did you run into a fire-breathing dragon?"

Bob exclaimed theatrically, "Buddy, you're the company's ace. If even you got beaten up this badly, are those Outsiders out there about to fight their way into company headquarters?"

Black Noir ignored him without so much as turning his head.

Sarah shot Bob a cold glance. "If you're that bored, I can take off your splint and let you stroll past the sterile room again, see whether that kid feels like snapping your neck today."

Bob immediately shut his mouth and burrowed back under the covers.

He never wanted to recall the way that kid had looked at him that day for the rest of his life.

After treating Black Noir's wound, Sarah expertly wrapped it in thick sterile gauze, then pulled off her gloves and tossed them into the medical waste bin.

"There are residual traces of fire energy in the wound. Looks like you ran into a tough opponent in Texas."

Sarah wrote quickly in the medical chart. "You have to stay at headquarters for the next few days. Don't take any more of those life-threatening jobs until the wound has fully healed. The company may need you to keep up appearances, but you have to stay alive to do that."

Black Noir nodded silently, rose from the bed, straightened his tattered tactical suit, and left the medical room without a word.

Watching him leave, Sarah sighed, picked up the cold coffee on her desk, and took a sip. Bitterness filled her mouth.

Within the vast, cold-hearted Vought International, these superheroes, who seemed so glamorous to outsiders, were really nothing more than high-grade expendables.

By comparison, the little monster in the sterile room, still eating burgers and listening to rock music, was being treated as though he were on vacation.

In the sterile room, Lynn was clearing away the wrappers from John's burgers.

He found John's ability to learn downright terrifying.

In just these ten-odd minutes together, John had not only completely figured out what the cassette player's buttons did, but could even hum a couple of phrases from the melody he'd just heard, perfectly in tune.

If that little brain were in an ordinary school outside, he would definitely be the sort of genius teachers both loved and hated.

"Lynn."

Watching Lynn tie up the garbage bag, John suddenly asked, "People outside all have their own names, right?"

"Of course. Everyone gets a name when they're born."

Lynn set the garbage bag by the door, then came back and sat down. "For example, my name is Lynn, and that fat guy's name is Bob."

"Then why am I called John?" The little boy's blue eyes were completely earnest. "Is it a good name?"

Lynn froze for a moment.

In this laboratory, everyone usually called him the test subject or that boy. Only Lynn insisted on calling him John.

Facing those clear eyes, Lynn knew he had to give an answer that would satisfy him.

"It's a wonderful name."

Lynn looked at him with a smile. "Out there in the world of ordinary people, John is a very common name, but it's also a powerful one. Lots of brave people, lots of people willing to stand up and protect others, have that name. So you could call it a hero's name, too."

John's eyes lit up at once, and he nodded vigorously, seemingly very satisfied with that explanation.

"I'll become the greatest John."

He clenched his small, fair fists. "If other people named John do bad things in the future, I'll teach them a lesson. I won't let them disgrace this name."

Lynn couldn't help rubbing his forehead.

This kid's mind really did work in peculiar ways. He could circle back to punishing bad people anytime, anywhere.

Well, as long as he doesn't want to destroy the world, let him do whatever he likes.

"Sure. As long as you follow the rules and listen to reason, you can defend your name however you want."

Lynn yawned and glanced at the cheap digital watch on his wrist.

Afternoons always passed especially slowly.

The gentle breeze from the sterile room's temperature-control system made him a little drowsy.

Lynn let himself lie back on the cushion, pillowing his head on his hands.

"Afternoons are for resting. If you're bored, you can try solving the second face of that Rubik's Cube, or keep listening to music."

Lynn closed his eyes, his voice growing a little languid. "I'm going to sleep for a bit. I got up too early today. I spent ages arguing with Jimmy in logistics to get you that burger."

John obediently murmured an acknowledgment.

Instead of fiddling with the Rubik's Cube, he picked up the cassette player again and put on the headphones.

This time, however, he didn't press play.

He simply sat cross-legged beside Lynn in silence, watching the slight rise and fall of Lynn's chest as he breathed, as though observing some interesting phenomenon.

In John's world, Lynn was only completely relaxed when he slept.

No vigilance, no defenses. He simply lay there, holding nothing back, beside a source of danger that could tear him to pieces at any moment.