Shells tambourined across the steel plated hull. The entire cockpit rattled from the force of his machine guns, though shake as the war machine might, his nerves stayed steady. There was no time for relief in this dogfight. No chance for even a second of celebration as he engulfed another spitfire and sent it in a plummeting death spiral. He scanned the sky and barrel rolled after the next pest to baptize in bullets. His mach pony had hardly levelled before bucking from a clip on its tail. Marked with menacing black smoke his fighter whipped downwards. With all his might he wrestled the throttle against the corkscrew, and raised the nose before the punctured plane began clipping the forest canopy.
With only milli-seconds left to eject to safety Secret Agent Jeffry Haés's parachute popped, levitating our hero above the exploding wreckage below. The agent contorted his legs and avoided breaking his limbs across the treetops by inches. With a heavy lurch, Jeffry's feet kissed the Earth. He unclipped his chute, unholstered his pistol, and tried to steady his breath as adrenaline pumped. With deadly accuracy the seven year old spy painted a pair of villains' uniforms red with his 9mm, and sent them to an eternal slumber. Crouched behind a tree, Jeff scanned the perimeter for an exit point, his ears dialed for danger.
"Look out behind you!" A pinecone grenade followed the words, flying above Jeffry's head. "Take cover! Take cover!" Able made explosion noises as he ran, scooped up the young boy, set him on the grass behind a small wooden bench at the edge of the playground, and plunked down beside him. It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon in the park at the end of the Haés's neighborhood. "i'm a part of the extraction team ready to get you out, sir! We only have three minutes before we're bombed to heck! Do you have the formulas?"
His giggling son shook his head no, not breaking character, Able grimaced. "It's as i feared," his voice dropped and he pointed to the jungle gym. "You'll have to get into that toxic laboratory, get the documents, and slide down to safety. You only have two minutes left, and will have to face certain death to save everyone, are you up for it!?" The boy leapt to his feet, "Then go! i'll distract them!"
Able mimicked machine gun sounds as Jeffry scrambled up a hot metal ladder, swung across monkey bars, and snatched an imaginary folder to the air. His father counted from sixty, shouting numbers while pretending to start a helicopter, and spun his way towards the gymnasium. Air rushed through Jeffry's hair as he whooshed down the slippery slide. "i got it! i got it!" he called and ran to his spinning father, and leapt into his waiting arms as the final ten seconds were named.
The boy's arms clutched his fathers neck as they ran to the playground's gate in the remaining afternoon sun. "Don't worry sir! We'll have you home right in time for dinner!"
A few metres away, Jeffry slid down to the grass, took Able's hand and the pair made their way to a weaving path through the wood's back home. "Dad, what did you want to be when you grew up?"
"When i was your age? Oh, let me see here, kung-fu master, astronaut- but like Star Trek not Neil Armstrong, a spy, pirate, fighter pilot, professional skater, firefighter, samurai, racecar driver." Able shrugged, "You know, the usual stuff."
The perplexed young one looked up. "Why didn't you?" Able paused, and looked down with his eyebrows raised. "Why aren't you a secret agent? Or ninja? Something cool?"
"Ah, now that is a very interesting question." Taken aback, he paused, not hurt, nor angry. Able took time to think about his son's question, and not harbour it as an insult. As he thought he moved to the side of the path, and found a large branch to use as a walking staff. The boy followed suit, selected a sizable stick which he swung like a sword while he waited for his father's words. When Able finally spoke, he made a careful effort to honour, and not condescend, his son's imagination. "i guess i realized that what tied all those things, those 'jobs,' together," he cracked a smile, "and what drew me to them in the first place was that i wanted to be a hero. As i grew older, i started to understand a few different things. One, was the reason why i wanted to be a hero was so i could make people feel safe. Two, i wanted to fall in love and live happily ever after. Three, i didn't need to hurt anyone to achieve any of those things."
Jeffry batted about his imaginary sword, and looked back more confused than he had been. "What do you mean? Sometimes you have to beat up bad guys, don't you?"
"Well... yes," his response reluctant. Able leaned upon his staff as he tried to find the right words. "Sometimes, in rare circumstances, you do have to stop someone from hurting you, or others, with force. But that's not what makes a hero. What we like about our heroes is who they are, not what they do, right? It's more difficult to be a good person than to punch a bad one. Sometimes battling the bad guys within ourselves is a lot harder. Nobody's perfect, not mum, not me, not Spider-Man, not the President, we all have bad thoughts. We get selfish, cruel, cranky, and take out our emotions on the wrong people. The real heroes protect everyone, including the 'bad guys.' They protect them from themselves. The 'Bad guys' that the 'good guys' shelter us from are normal people who have lost the battle within. When people fall from hope, and meaning, lose themselves to those darker desires, they lash out, and their actions hurt others."
"So... you do have to beat them up!" Jeffry cleared his confusion with more sweeping slashes from his stick.
With a deep breath Able led them onwards down the path. "Not always in the way you think. More than anyone likes to admit, we all wrestle with ourselves internally. Inside me are two. Me and my evil twin. Everyday i fight him, everyday it's a battle. Though the more i win, the easier it is."
"You fight him?"
"Again, probably not how you're imagining. You see, we are one and the same, he is myself. And how i fight myself is with gratitude, with pause. i thank him, i think about how lucky i am. i use his shadow to show me the light, and what i might embrace. It aids me to feel grateful, and i've found ways to be thankful for him. i trust my evil brother as my protector, to guard those i love when i need his fury. i know i can count on him when he's released, and that gives me courage. i honour him by showing that my victories are his. i show him grace by giving to others, and knowing their praise is for him and his efforts of calm. A rising tide lifts all boats, only together can we both succeed."
"i'm confused."
"Well that's ok, we're having this conversation a lot earlier than i anticipated, and i don't expect you to understand everything. i also don't think i'm doing a great job. There's a lot of metaphors riddled, and if i'm honest, i don't have it all worked out. i'm still learning. This isn't a lesson that you figure out one and done. It takes time, and worse, it takes mistakes. It takes regret, horror, and sometimes shame. Humility is a brutal virtue, a tremendous weapon few are brave enough to wield."
"i'm brave."
"i know Jeff, but for now, you don't have to be anything more than kind. It's sad to say, but enough courage to be thoughtful, to tell the truth, makes you braver than most. You know, i used to think a lot about war. Spies, and elite forces. i thought about the soldiers on the other side of the trenches. That their stories more often were the same as ours, only in reverse. That they had been told that their acts were the noble ones, and what villains our armies were. That's when things got blurry. i realized that no matter what, every single man killed, was at one time someone's son. A grandson. Likely a brother. And while many have rough childhoods, most come from homes that love them. That made me think each death, and conflict, was a great tragedy. No matter the uniform. When we go to war we are only ever fighting friends we haven't met yet. More than that, they're our different selves. It's so easy to be bad, and so hard to be good. A lot of people lose."
The pair continued to walk as Jeffry digested the words. He mimicked his father, turned his sword around, and used it as a walking stick. Able continued, "It's an easy choice to make afterwards. Still the same goal, only a different path. i don't need to be a kung-fu master, or secret agent to save the world. Rather, i can try and save as many individual worlds for different people as possible. i don't need to use brute force or to beat anyone up. Instead i can fight myself, clean up my own character. Set the tone and lead by example. i win by soothing my shadows, not fighting them. My tools are great music, beautiful paintings, rich stories, deep conversation, and good friends. My efforts to save others are by focusing my time working on those the things that help me beat the difficult inside me. Creating more art, and content hoping it helps others to win their wars within. That the work might shine a light along a path out of the darkness. It may not solve everyone at scale, or halt the worst perpetrators, but its contribution. A solid one, i hope. It doesn't cause more disturbances, or hurt, at worst it holds a mirror to them. The more we all align with those efforts, in whatever modality, the safer we'll all be."
Noting the boy's silence Able continued, and used his staff to cast his attention to the wilderness. "Fighting with nature is another internal war of will. You never win so much as survive. And that's life, battling for balance. Taming your ego, wrestling with what you feel you need to prove. A lot is insecurity. Misguided morals that fight for career, status, finances, illusions of "power." Rather than the purer fights, for compassion, harmony, and love, for yourself, your cherished ones, and strangers at large. Instead of searching for adventure, or something exterior to prove my worth to myself, i found it within. From there, the task is to make enough of those good feelings to share. Especially for your mum, and our family. Now that, is worth fighting for. No matter what ups and downs the fates deliver, or what dark parts of myself are mirrored back to me- i'll never let the bad guy inside win. It's a battle that never ends, and that's ok. i take my own suffering, and do my best to erase it, so no one else has to face it, or carry its burdens. Life is only ever courage against your own demons"
"So... you do fight?"
"Well, ya, i have been saying those words, but i don't mean actually hitting people. More like how we were fighting bad guys at the playground. In our imagination. These battles are metaphorical, and metaphysical. Films are informed by life, but life isn't like the movies. While it may seem like less fun, the mundane can be far more rich. As hard as i would find it to believe at your age, that's for the best. It's tough. Most efforts go unnoticed, or praised, which is sadly how you know you're doing it right. It's not as glamorous, or epic as in comic books or video games, but my days are as exciting, perhaps more so. My time with you, your mum, and sisters, is a better adventure than i could imagine. i'm living exactly as i wanted to at your age, though not as i pictured. i still get to experience all the action i dreamed of. Rip around in helicopters, throw grenades, explore space, swing swords, save the day, but i get to do it with my son, and daughters. We get to play. i get to make memories, and no one gets hurt. My job makes the hours in people's lives a tiny bit better, it makes my life better, my family and friends are happy, healthy, loved, and that's a huge win for me. It's everything i always wanted. Better."
As the colours of the sky got a little deeper they stepped from the woods. Able helped his silent son up to his shoulders, and they made their way across the street to the sidewalks leading home. The roads Jeffry had known his whole life looked a little different from his father's heights.
Happy Father’s Day!
Thanks for reading, be sure to check the rest of The Haés collection!
-Mr. Write