The Adventures of SuperTroy

Chapter 1

Chapter 1“Mom!” Troy Ashton fended away the advancing Kleenex his mother had licked and was about to wipe his face with.

Lucy Ashton looked sheepish, well, perhaps a little. She pointed to her own chin. “You got a smear of maple syrup here.”

Troy quickly wiped his chin with a finger.

“Nervous?” Tom, his dad, asked.

Troy shrugged nonchalantly. He’d been practicing the gesture in the mirror on the back of his closet door.

“It isn’t every day our son, the sotan, gets his cape,” his mom said, straightening the collar of his button up shirt.

For reasons best known to The Council for Sotan Affairs or CSA for short, sotans had to wait until July first following their eighteenth birthday to claim their capes. As Troy was born in September, he’d had to wait ten more months. He was somewhat unsure how the CSA made their decision. His parents had said they’d received a visit from a member of the CSA shortly after he’d been born, then sometime later a different CSA member had paid them another visit, with the good news Troy had been selected.

Troy had begrudgingly worn the shirt his mother had picked out, although he’d refused to don the tie. It’d only get in the way once he was airborne. All sotans were given the power of flight. Their secondary power would be revealed to them during training. He hoped his other power wasn’t something lame like being able to guess the weight of s**t just by looking at it. But whatever his secondary power was, he’d be able to fly! When he was a little kid he’d tie a sheet or bath towel around his neck and practice jumping into the air, disappointed each time he fell back to the ground. Being able to fly was the main reason why he hadn’t replaced his car when he’d totaled it earlier that year. There’d be no point as he’d be able to fly anywhere he needed to go.

Troy’s mother fixed her son with a serious look. “Did you put on those briefs I ironed yesterday?”

Troy groaned. “Mom!” Next she’d be asking if he’d washed behind his ears. Had he? Troy fought the urge to rub a finger back there and sniff it.

“Luce, leave the boy be,” Troy’s dad told her. Then he grinned at his son. “I take it you aren’t wearing any of the briefs Lizzie got you for your last birthday.”

“Yeah, right.” His sister had gotten him several pairs of superhero-themed underwear as a gag gift. She’d never forgotten his early attempts at caped flight and took every opportunity to razz him about it.

Troy and his parents were standing in their driveway, the slight breeze ruffling Troy’s brown hair. He needed a haircut but was experimenting with growing it out. But he was forever brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He’d been practicing doing that in the mirror, too.

“And remember what I said.” Troy’s mother’s voice cut into his musings. “Invite your skol back for supper.” She picked an imaginary loose thread from his shirt.

“You betcha.” That was another thing Troy was excited about, meeting his skol, his chosen life-mate, for the first time. He hoped she’d be pretty, maybe have big t**s, a perky ass, and…

“The whole of Rochfield is waiting to see the happy couple,” Troy’s mother enthused. “We’ve organized a neighborhood party so everyone can—”

“MOM!”

“Time to go,” Troy’s dad said, interrupting Troy before he could protest any further and say something he might later regret.

With only six sotans chosen each year, they were pretty rare, and it was something to celebrate when one got his cape.

“Don’t keep the CSA waiting.” Troy’s father gave his son’s shoulder a squeeze.

Troy nodded and surreptitiously wiped his palms on his dress pants. He’d have preferred jeans but he knew his mom would’ve had a cow if he’d put them on.

“Sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

Troy shook his head. He’d walk to the CSA building. He needed the time alone to clear his head. Yes, he’d reached the age of his cape, but was he truly ready for all that meant?

“It’s a shame we aren’t allowed to go with you,” Troy’s mother said, sniffing back tears. “Our son becoming a man, assuming his rightful destiny.”

“I’m just getting my cape and meeting my skol today, not marrying her.” His mother would be unstoppable when that happened. “I doubt the whole thing will last more than ten minutes. Actual training won’t start for another week I think. I’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed her cheek, pulled back from the hug and walked down the driveway.

* * * *

Troy was indeed back before he or anyone knew it. He was back without his cape, his skol, or his powers. When he’d entered the meeting room, he’d expected to see five other young guys all awaiting their capes, but there’d been six. Troy had felt sorry for the i***t who’d messed up. Only it turned out he was the i***t.

Walking back home, he was pissed, confused, and dejected. He felt he’d let his family and his community down, and he didn’t know why. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Sure, the members of the CSA, or at least the couple Troy had seen, had been complimentary, kind, even generous in their praise of his activities—the lifeguarding at the Y pool in the summer and ski patrol in the winter. Troy was embarrassed they’d known so much about him. But being told he had to wait another three years so he could fulfill a higher calling was just BS. There was no higher calling than a sotan being granted his cape and his powers.

“Wonder if they’re planning on making you a tuohygan?” Troy’s father speculated over supper later that evening.

The meal was a somber, quiet affair. The party had been cancelled, the neighbors asking questions neither Troy nor his folks could answer.

“A what?” Troy asked, stirring rather than eating his plate of hotdish.

“Tuohygans. They’re pretty rare,” his dad told him. “Only one born every generation.”

Troy kinda liked the idea he was potentially so unique. It took a little, repeat, a little, of the shame out of the rejection.

“Although I heard the last tuohygan decided not to accept his position,” his mother put in.

“Why?” Troy asked midway through chewing his food. The recent revelation had restored some of his appetite.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Troy’s mother shook her head in disapproval. “And no one knows why he didn’t accept. Or at least no one is saying.”

“The CSA sure are a secretive bunch.” Troy’s father picked up the bottle of Coke. “More pop?”

Troy nodded and slid his glass towards his father.

“We’d kinda hoped it’d be you they’d choose this generation,” Troy’s father said, filling his son’s glass. “Are you sure the CSA didn’t say anything else to you?”

Troy shook his head no. “Why would they choose me for this tuohygan gig anyway?” All he’d ever wanted was to take up his sotan destiny.

“Because you’re special.” His mother touched the back of Troy’s hand. “Not that Lizzie isn’t,” she added quickly, never one to show favoritism. “But…” she sighed. “I know every mother is proud of their children, especially sotans but you, you’ve always been extra…” She waved a hand.

“Extra proud-worthy?” Troy smirked.

Lizzie hadn’t been chosen to be a sotan, and, yeah, Troy had kinda lorded that over her. Although she’d be sure to give him s**t later about not getting his cape and everything. As soon as she’d heard the party had been cancelled, she’d left to practice with her friends. Lizzie was in a singing group, and, Troy had to admit, they didn’t suck.

“What’s a tuohygan anyway?” Troy asked once he’d cleared his plate.

“As far as we know, they have a full range of powers, not just the two that sotans get,” Troy’s dad said.

This intrigued Troy. Who knew what all else he’d get as a tuohygan? It’d sure make him a chick magnet. Yeah, he’d known all sotans had their skol chosen for them. Did tuohygans have a skol as well?

“I heard they get a gold trim on their capes,” Troy’s mother added. “And they get to prefix their name with Super.”

Troy smiled. SuperTroy had a definite ring to it. He also liked the idea of a cape with gold trim. Even more chick magnetic…magnet-like? But, oh, man, having to wait until his twenty-first birthday.

That sucked!

* * * *

Two years and two months later

“No! No f*****g way!” Troy crashed through the outer doors of the CSA building and descended the stone steps three at a time. He was not going to accept a man as his skol, or omer or whatever the member of the CSA had called his would-be mate. He wasn’t queer. Troy was a member of his jock frat in college, he played both football and baseball, he’d lettered in both sports in high school, and…he was not gay! Period, end of discussion.

Troy looked up and saw a couple of figures coming in to land on the roof of the CSA building, their brightly colored capes flapping behind them. “Fuckers!” he yelled up at them.

That should have been him. Should have been him two years earlier, the last time he’d visited the CSA building.

Troy reached the bottom of the steps. He wasn’t getting a skol—at least not one of the female variety—a gold-trimmed cape, or Super to his name. And no powers either—extra enhanced or otherwise. He also knew why the other tuohygan candidates had turned the CSA down. They weren’t gay either. What the f**k was the CSA thinking? And what the f**k would he tell his mom? Certainly not the truth. She was so stoked about him potentially becoming a tuohygan, she’d probably tell him to accept the guy so Troy could claim his gold-trimmed cape, and she could brag about having a tuohygan son. No! He needed a drink. Hell, more than one. Maybe if he told her he’d turned down the job because the terms were too arduous. No, she’d be bound to ask questions. Or maybe it just wasn’t a good fit? They didn’t have a suitable skol? That was closer to the mark. Hell, he’d figure out the details later, after he’d had a drink.

Spying a bar up ahead, Troy entered and approached the busty barmaid.

Not having the energy to turn on the charm or even muster up a smile, Troy opened his mouth to ask for a beer and was told, “I’ll need to see some ID.”

Troy reached into his back pocket for his wallet. The pocket was empty. He hadn’t driven, thinking he’d be flying home, so had left both car keys and wallet on his nightstand. “f**k!” He turned on his heel and left.

* * * *

Being a part-time lifeguard at the college pool sucked. Okay, so the red swimming trunks he got to wear hugged his ass and he’d deliberately chosen a tee a size or two smaller to better show off his muscles. But hardly anyone ever drowned, so he mostly just perched his ass on his high stool and tried not to look bored. Sure, he got plenty of attention from the women, although, somehow that didn’t please Troy as much as it should.

Mostly the job sucked because it wasn’t his calling. He should be flying, rescuing people for real, not sitting around watching over groups of teens f*****g around in the pool.

He got to thinking about what the people at the CSA had told him, about being a tuohygan and the good works he could do, not just for Rochfield, but also the wider community of Minnada. Could he do it, bond with another dude if it got him all that?

“Hell, no!” he growled, drawing attention from Adam Patterson, a fellow member of his frat, who was just walking by.

“Yo, Ashton! How’s it hanging?” Adam patted Troy’s knee.

Limply, Troy thought, briefly looking down at his groin and the side of Adam’s arm that was pressed against his thigh as the big guy rested his bulk against Troy’s stool.

“You get a good view of the babes from up there?” Adam asked.

“Yeah.” Troy fell silent for a few moments, watching a group of baseball jocks horsing around near the deep end.

“You thinking of joining the swim team or something?” Troy asked. Adam had been hanging around the pool a lot recently. Was the big guy lonely?

“Uff-da! That bunch of p*****s?”

Troy grinned.

They discussed the upcoming frat party, deciding how many girls they could score with. Troy knew how to play the game or rather be seen playing the game. Truth was, he didn’t really connect with most women. He was fine taking them out on dates, walking them home, making sure they were safe, but…He’d been relying on the CSA finding him a skol, so hadn’t put much effort into dating.

Adam eventually spotted someone at the deep end of the pool he knew. “Laters, dude.” He left with another slap to Troy’s knee.

Troy shook his head at Adam’s retreating bulk. The guy was a pretty loyal friend, but he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.

* * * *

It was summer break, the college pool was closed for renovations, and Troy was at loose ends.

“Go help your dad in his tool shed,” his mom said when she grew tired of Troy getting underfoot as she was clearing up after lunch.

As he grew older, Troy got an ever-increasing need to help, be useful. He guessed it was his tuohygan nature trying to awaken. But that wasn’t gonna happen. Troy trudged out to the shed, although he knew he wasn’t likely to be of much assistance there. His talents, such as they were, did not extend to using power tools or garden implements. Once Troy’s father had cut his leg on a jagged piece of metal and Troy had been on it immediately. Okay, so maybe applying a tourniquet to his father’s thigh and insisting the man lie flat to reduce the risk of dizziness through blood loss was maybe going a tad overboard. But this was his dad and Troy needed to keep him safe.

“You okay?” the older man asked when Troy appeared in the doorway to the tool shed.

“Yep.”

His dad smiled. “You don’t look it.”

Troy tried for another of his practiced shrugs but knew it wasn’t one of his better attempts.

“Wish you’d tell us why you turned down the tuohygan thing.” He fixed Troy with a stare. “The real reason.”

“I have. I didn’t like what they wanted to make me do.”

“Which was?”

Troy stayed silent.

Troy’s dad shook his head. “You can talk to us, your mom and me.” He laid down his trowel and approached his son. “We love you. There’s nothing you can’t tell us.”

Troy felt anger welling up. “There isn’t anything! I’m okay!”

The older man sighed. “Okay, son, whatever you say.”

Needing to change the subject, Troy asked, “Need any help in here?” He looked around at the neatly-arranged tools. Everything had a place and was in it. Troy had learned where everything should be and made sure it was there, even if he didn’t know what half the stuff did.

“No, not really. Why don’t you go hang at the mall or catch a movie or…”

Troy had walked the mall the previous day. He’d seen a kid, couldn’t have been more than five, wander out of a store without a parent. Hunkering down to be more on the kid’s level, Troy had asked the kid’s name. Slowly and patiently, Troy had gotten the kid’s, George’s, story. He’d grown bored with his mother, who’d been clothes shopping with his older sister.

Within moments, Troy had reunited George with his family, although he was disappointed and angry they hadn’t even noticed the youngster had gone missing and didn’t seem overly concerned that he had. Troy vowed that his children would always know they were loved and protected. Before he’d left them, Troy had told George’s mom he was an Eagle Scout and was one of the adult leaders of the local Cub Scout pack. George was welcome to join. George had been enthusiastic, his mom less so.

“What about the firehouse?” his dad asked, breaking Troy out of his memories. “Can’t you find anything useful to do down there?”

Troy frowned. “Nah.” He was a volunteer firefighter for the Rochfield fire department but he often butted heads with Brendan Bartlet, the fire chief. The older man, a former Marine, always seemed irritated by Troy’s enthusiasm and eagerness to help. Chief Bartlet was unmarried and didn’t seem to have much of a social life and hung around the fire house whenever he wasn’t working. Troy would have loved to have done the same—he’d be on the spot if they were called out to an incident—but Chief Bartlet made him feel unwelcome and in the way. That unsettled Troy in ways he didn’t understand.

After hanging around the shed for a while longer, Troy trudged back to the house, along the hallway, and into his room. He flopped on his bed and eyed the game controller on his pillow. He spent hours playing games; if he couldn’t be a hero for real then he tried to make do with the fictional world of the games. They were a piss poor substitute and usually left him more frustrated with his situation.

Troy tried napping but his brain wouldn’t shut off. He was suffering a lot of that recently. Hence the hours on his games consoles. He tried to hide his lack of sleep from his mom, but she noticed the bags under his eyes and was threatening to take him to the doctor. So far, Troy had resisted. There was nothing a doctor could do. Troy needed action, needed adventure, needed to be part of a rescue mission.

Troy’s cell rang. It was Adam…again. He thought about letting it go to Voicemail but he was so bored, even a call from his dim-witted friend sounded interesting.

“Troy!” Adam said, sounding way too chipper for it being so hot.

“Hey, man.”

“How’s it hanging?” Adam always asked that. Troy guessed he’d heard it somewhere and thought it sounded hip or something.

“Not bad.” And just to be polite—his mom had raised him right—Troy asked, “What you up to?”

“Nothin’ much. Got weight training this afternoon, of course.” Even though it was summer break, coach still had the members of the football team come in for conditioning, weight training and other s**t. “Was calling to ask if you wanna go with.”

Troy didn’t, he’d had his session earlier in the day.

“Come on, man. You could spot me and we could talk.”

Troy sighed and agreed. He was bored so why not.