The soup kitchen at the recreation center on Redemption Avenue was especially busy two weeks before the Thanksgiving holiday, and Nate Raimi was spooning out his vegetable medley special just as fast as he possibly could.
“How’s it going, buddy?” he said to the bearded man whose shaky hands were holding a Styrofoam bowl. “I threw in some navy beans in this batch, and I think it might be the best soup we’ve had in a while. There’s bread and tea over there on the table … and feel free to come back for seconds. Or thirds.”
Two years earlier, Raimi had met with an official from the World Metahuman Clearinghouse in hopes of getting funding for a project designed to help him spread compassion throughout the world.
Working under the not-so-secret identity of “Compassion-Nate,” his superpower was setting off a chain reaction of empathy to all those he encountered. Unfortunately, the WMC not only refused his request for a grant, but he soon learned the group wasn’t interested in his brand of heroism.
A world full of compassionate people would lessen the need for superheroes, and that was bad for their business. Thus, some of the more cut-throat officials were determined to stop him – by any means necessary.
Despite the threat, Nate still did what he could, and bringing a bit of hope to people who had little or none was why he spent much of his time as a volunteer.
Yet, while serving those in need took up a good bit of his time, he was also learning all he could about Clancy Orion.
Orion had become an internet sensation when he prevented a drunk driver from hitting a group of children at a playground. The social media world dubbed him “Captain Hysterical” after he claimed his ability to crumple the front end of the vehicle and stop it cold was due to high adrenaline, or “hysterical strength.”
Nate discovered that was not the case. Orion was actually an extraterrestrial from the planet Wolf 1061c who had been on earth for a decade. There was a significant number of superheroes who feared he was the vanguard of an imminent Wolfian invasion, although Nate was not among them. He looked for the best in people – human or alien – and Orion’s actions suggested he was here to help rather than harm.
Captain Hysterical was an observer, perhaps, but not an occupier.
Today’s immediate concern, however, was feeding the hungry, and assisting Nate in that endeavor was an old friend, known in crimefighting circles – appropriately enough – as “Old Man.” O.M., as Nate calls him, had gained a bit of notoriety when he apprehended Professor Purloin at Rickman Plaza back in 2023. However, he was quickly forgotten as Spectacular Man and Frau the Fearless dominated headlines with their flashy uniforms and over-the-top theatrics while catching more colorful villains.
Older people often go unnoticed, which worked to his advantage, but it also meant Old Man found himself on the outside looking in lately when the world needed a hero.
With his services no longer wanted, he showed up every weekday at the soup kitchen to lend Nate a hand. Of course, his guise made him look more like a customer than a volunteer – a ragged Jaxon cap, blue and red flannel shirt, and polyester pants pulled up almost to his nipples.
“Hey, O.M., do you mind going back to the kitchen and checking on the soup?” Nate asked. “We’re getting near the bottom of this pot.”
Old Man nodded.
“On it. I ever tell you about the time I used a can of minestrone to stop a grocery store robbery?” said O.M., whose rambling stories would often throw evildoers off their game and allow him to take the upper hand. “Rascal walked in and pulled out a pistol while I was on aisle 5A – that’s the soup, rice and beans aisle – so I grabbed a can of low sodium minestrone, took aim, and clocked him right in the noggin. He went down like one of them Jenga towers and I moseyed on over and kicked his weapon away. You remember what I told the police when they showed up?”
Nate chuckled.
“I do … but you’re gonna tell me again, anyway.”
“I said to the officer, I said, ‘The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a can of soup.’ He got a chuckle out of that. And you gotta admit … it’s a dang good line. Probably shoulda copyrighted it now that I think about it. Superheroes need a catchphrase.”
As O.M. made his way toward the kitchen the feeding line kept forming, and Nate noticed a smartly dressed woman walk through the front door.
Maisie Petra was well-known around the rec center. She was a homicide detective and could often be seen cruising through the neighborhood, one that she had grown up in and still cared for.
What wasn’t well-known was that she was also Violet Femme, a crusading hero who often clashed with the sinister Havoc Club. She had actually worked with Old Man on a few jobs, but her encounters with Nate had mostly been “off the clock” and informal. He provided a shoulder to cry on when her crimefighting partner, Yellowhammer, was killed, and the two had stayed in touch ever since.
On this afternoon, however, she had some business to discuss with the man furiously ladling soup.
“Care to try my special, detective?” he asked.
“I know it’s delicious, but I had an early lunch,” she said. “When you get a minute, though, I’d like to talk to you about something. I understand you have some information I might be interested in hearing.”
Old Man was just coming out of the kitchen with a huge pot of soup and lit up when he saw Maisie.
“Hiya, kid!” he chirped. “This ain’t a raid, is it? If so, you’re too late. Poker game broke up more than an hour ago.”
Maisie laughed and, after O.M. put the soup down on the serving table, walked over to give him a hug.
“You taking care of yourself, Old Man? I see you’re still a fashion plate.”
O.M. pulled his pants even higher.
“Never needed a fancy costume,” he said. “Just gimme some thrift store britches and a bad guy to bamboozle, and I’m raring to go. Anyway, I overheard you saying you need to talk to Nate … forgot I had my hearing aid set on supersonic.”
O.M. grabbed the ladle from Nate.
“Go talk to your girlfriend,” he said with a wink. “I got this.”
Maisie and Nate stepped toward the back of the rec center and he produced a thumb drive.
“This has everything we know about Clancy Orion,” he said.
“Lots of interesting stuff on there. I guess for our purposes, though, the headline is that he can only eat tomatoes.”
Nate handed the thumb drive to Maisie.
“Please keep this between us, Maisie,” he said. “I’ll let O.M. know. Oh … and I’ll be in touch about Thanksgiving.”
Maisie waved at Old Man as she left, and Nate returned to take control of the soup ladle.
“Well?” O.M. asked.
“Well, I let her know he can only eat tomatoes, which changes our meal plan a bit,” Nate said. “But, we’ll make it work.”
O.M. gently patted Nate on this hand.
“You’re a good egg, my boy. You think he’ll accept your invitation? If I was him I’d be a little paranoid, especially with everything going on at WMC … and the world.”
Nate nodded.
“I’m pretty sure he knows who we are and knows our intentions. I hope he comes … he’s lightyears from home, and Thanksgiving can be a tough time. I hate to see anybody spend it alone.”
These characters were featured in earlier flash fiction pieces. In case you forgot them, here are links to their origin stories.
