Mom, I'm Bulletproof

Chapter 15.4: Confession

"I did it again," Proscenium said. "I let myself become set in my ways. I follow antiquated ways, and that has been my greatest folly. I am broken inside. The world has changed around me, and I failed to change with it."

"I don't understand," Amy said.

"I'm an old man," Proscenium stood and gazed around the nearby buildings as he spoke. "I have devoted my life, my entire existence, to battling crime in this city, to keep its citizens safe. This city is a great theater, and what rises across the top of the theater, watching over it and holding it in place?"

Amy snapped her fingers. "I know this one. The proscenium."

He nodded. "Hundreds of years ago, a group of great playwrights fled religious and governmental prosecution in Europe, seeking a better life. A place where they could craft the tales and performances they wanted with true creative freedom. They established this place, a city of theaters, as a home for their creative pursuits."

"Sounds familiar," Amy said. "I think I learned this in some history class."

"What you don't know is that the great playwrights had tapped into a secret power, one whose depths and meaning has yet to be fully understood. It may never be."

"What power is that?"

"Please respect me enough not to ask that," Proscenium said. "It is sacred to me."

"Sorry," Amy said. "I didn't realize you were so sensitive."

"In the early days of the city, before it was a city at all, but a collection of performing arts troupes making a collection of homes for themselves, there were thieves and profiteers who saw potential for crime in this place. They saw the newly-created theater community as something they could take advantage of, a place where they could rule with their cruelty and where their greed would lord over all others."

"How long ago was this?"

"Never mind that," Proscenium said. "The great playwrights saw their new creative haven was in jeopardy, so they took action. If this city were to be one great theater, then it would require a proscenium arch to watch over it, to protect it."

"As you keep saying," Future Girl said.

"And the proscenium would require a curtain, to stand in between the eyes of the public and the mysteries of backstage. The proscenium holds the curtain in place, and, in time, the curtain eventually rises to become part of the proscenium."

"This metaphor of yours is getting a little intense here," Amy said.

Proscenium nodded. "So, you do understand."

Future Girl raised an eyebrow. "You're saying you've been around for, what, 400 years?"

"No," Proscenium said. "There have been countless other Prosceniums and Curtains. At the time of my birth, I became the Curtain. When my mentor, my Proscenium, passed on from this life, I became Proscenium and was given a Curtain to instruct."

"That's right," Amy said. "When we first met, you said I reminded you of a student of yours."

"Yes," Proscenium said. "The Curtain. She was a little younger than you," he said, pointing to Amy, "and little older than you," he said, pointed to Future Girl.

"And you're teaching her to be a superhero?" Future Girl said. "She's going to be Lady Proscenium or Proscenium Woman? We should totally meet her."

"Curtain is dead."

Awkward pause.

"Oh," Amy said. "I'm sorry."

"Curtain told me to trust you," Proscenium said to Amy. "But when we met in Boston, I did not. At that meeting, you were the first to mention the Temple to me. I should have listened. If I had, Curtain would still be alive."

"Wait, how?" Amy said.

"These men," Proscenium said, gesturing to the still unconscious helicopter pilots sprawled out on the ledge next to him, "they are agents of the Temple. The Temple has been setting traps for me for several weeks now. They have rallied my enemies against me, giving them the means to defeat me. Then they found Curtain and murdered her."

"I'm sorry," Amy said again.

"Yeah," Future Girl said.

"Without the Curtain, I will be the last Proscenium. When my time on this Earth is at its end, there will be no one to watch over my city, to protect it from the pain of crime and murder."

"You don't know that," Future Girl said. "You don't know what will happen in the years to come. Maybe your actions will inspire others to take your place in a new way."

Proscenium bowed his head. Amy couldn't tell, but it looked to her like he let out a deep breath. He then turned and looked at Amy and Future Girl.

"Thank you," he said. "The Temple outsmarted and defeated me because I am set in my old ways. All I know of crime fighting is contained to this city, and to the street-level crooks and psychopaths I routinely fight. For years, this was enough. But I see now that I became complacent. As the world changed around me, I was not ready. If only I had trusted you, if only I listened to Curtain when said to trust you..."

This confession was the last thing Amy had ever expected to hear coming from normally scary, armor-clad giant of a man.

"C'mon," she said. "Don't put yourself down. I bet you've saved a lot of lives."

"Not enough, unless I learn to change," he said.

Proscenium stood up, his metal boots right on the edge of the building's outcropping.

"If you are still forming a team, then I will join," he said.

Amy and Future Girl stood up next. The helicopter pilot remained out cold.

"That's great," Amy said. "What's our next move?"

"No," Proscenium said. "I will join, but I will not lead. If I am to survive the upcoming conflict, if I am to bring hope and justice not just to the people of this city but also to the entire world, then I must learn to change, to adapt."

He bowed his head.

"I need you to teach me, to guide me," he said. "Both of you, and the young man from England as well."

"Of course," Future Girl said. "We'll do everything we can."

"Absolutely," Amy said. "But he's not from England, he just lives there."

"OK," Future Girl said. "What now, fearless leader?"

"You mean me?" Amy said. "Well, we've got to find out who our sleeping friends here are, and what they know about the Temple."

"Very well," Proscenium said.

"Wait," Amy said. "Do you guys hear that?"

"What?" Future Girl said.

"Missile!" Amy said. A small missile, painted completely blackand leaving almost no exhaust behind it, sped right at the three of them. 

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Next: Allies.