Photographs
Perhaps Yuri is the only one now who can remember that past. The Brooks, Maverick, his father – all are gone, and survived in memory only by two damaged men, one who had his past forcibly taken from him, and one who purposely left it behind.
His mother still lives in body, yes, but for her the past is not a place of memory. She lives it every day, lost in a dreaming stupor in which her husband and son and herself all live happily, back before the deaths of their friends, the staged arrests, the bottles of alcohol gripped tightly in his father's hands.
She is the one who digs up the old photographs from the attic, the one who takes them to Yuri that evening and gushes over each photo, talking of them as if it had only been the day before that they had been taken. When she grows tired, Yuri gently pries the photos from her hands and takes them to his own room to study.
He pinches a photo delicately between his fingers, idly glancing at the men and women in the image, all smiling and content, all unaware of the tragedies that fate would bring.
The photo shows two couples and another man, standing together in the same shot in front of the Apollon Media building, as it was twenty-six years ago. On the back, the inscription reads, "Us, Albert, Emily, and Barnaby – 2/31/1951." Yuri sets down the photo on a growing pile of others like it, and picks up another.
This is more recent, the date on the back reading "1953". There are only the two couples now, with a smiling grey-haired boy in front, set inside an old robotics lab. It is hard to see if one does not already know, but the blonde woman, Emily Brooks, is starting to show signs of pregnancy.
He remembers his first meeting with the Brooks vividly, though not for that reason. He remembers because it was the first time his father had brought him to work, generously allowing the eager child free reign around the machinery and parts that composed the lab.
Yuri knew that he wasn't supposed to touch anything, so he didn't, and was proud that his dad trusted him to be responsible enough to know that. Instead, he marveled at his father's old suits and the work the lab technicians were doing on them.
He really hoped his dad wouldn't have to wear that goofy robot suit in the back, though.
"Yuri!" his papa called from across the room, "Come over here." So he did.
Where his father was sitting was a couple, a well-groomed man with brown hair and a blonde woman who smiled gently at Yuri. Yuri smiled back.
"These are the Brooks. They're the people who make your papa's suit work so he can save more people," Mr. Petrov said, gesturing toward the couple.
"Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you," said the man. "You're Yuri, correct? Mr. Petrov's son?" he asked.
Yuri nodded.
"Working with your father has been a pleasure," said the woman.
"With the help of Mr. Legend, it's only a matter of time before HeroTV takes off and people can start feeling safe again in this city," the man added.
"Oh, don't flatter me so much," his father said, "it's all thanks to your and Albert's efforts that we've been able to do so much in such a short time."
"Either way, I'm glad that our child will grow up in a safer world," said Mrs. Brooks, one hand resting on her stomach. Her husband squeezed her hand and looked deeply into her eyes, and Yuri decided he'd rather go look at some of the suit designs again.
Later that day, they'd reunited with Yuri's mother and took the photo of all of them together, he remembered. He didn't have the chance to visit the lab again, not for a while, at least, but for years he cherished the memory of that day in his mind.
He places the photo aside, on a different, smaller pile, and lifts another to his face. The same scene appears, the people just a little older, the poses different, but still the same happy faces mixed with only a hint of weariness.
The back reads, "Us, the Brooks, and little Yuri, 1/11/1954." He ponders on it for a short time, then places it on the smaller pile, all but the date blacked out with marker.
Another photo is not in the lab, but a cozy home setting, Petrovs and Brooks sitting happily with their children. Yuri had been growing up then, no more than a child, but wanting to be treated like an adult. He had struggled to keep a serious face in the photo, but anyone could see the hidden glee in his eyes.
The baby in Emily Brooks' arms had no such illusions of maturity, waving curious arms at the camera – and cameraman – before him.
He remembers the baby. It was so small, and Yuri had been scared that he might hurt it when Mrs. Brooks had placed it in Yuri's hands. Him, he told himself, the baby was a he. His name was Barnaby.
Yuri had no idea what to do with a baby, and was glad when Mrs. Brooks picked him back up, probably having seen the panic in his eyes.
"Your son is such a good boy," Mrs. Brooks said. "I only hope our Barnaby grows up like him."
Yuri's father laughed, a deep rumble that had been a part of him since before Yuri could remember. "You should have seen him when he was just a baby," he said. "Yuri was always getting into trouble. Did I ever tell you about that time he tried to save a little girl's cat and–"
"Dad!" Yuri shouted, blushing. "That was a long time ago!"
"It was last week," Origa Petrov stage-whispered, and Yuri went even more red while the Brooks and Mr. Maverick laughed.
"I'm sure you'll grow up to be a great hero of justice, just like your father," said Mr. Maverick, still full of mirth after drawing out the rest of the story, in which Yuri tried to rescue the cat from a tree but ended up with a mouthful of leaves and a preening, unconcerned kitten seated beside him on the ground.
"And you'll protect our little Barnaby, too, won't you?" asked Mr. Brooks. The baby in question gurgled, as if reaching out for Yuri's arms to carry him again.
Yuri felt a warm feeling rise up within him as his father pressed a large hand warmly against his shoulder. Yes, he decided, one day he'd be out there saving lives just like his father.
Without any coworkers around to take the shot, and Barnaby's caretaker Samantha home sick with a sudden cold, Mr. Maverick had to take the picture, insisting that their families should all stay together in the photo, over both families' protests that he ought to include himself.
On the TV, the interviewer is talking to the former King of Heroes and newest (re)addition to the Second League, Barnaby Brooks, Jr.. Barnaby doesn't look unhappy to be there, until the topic shifts to his parents.
Yuri pauses. Watches the interview play for the third time that evening. Watches Brooks admit that most of the photos of his parents burned in the fire that consumed them, that he has so little left of them now to remember them by.
Perhaps that is for the best. Yuri's scar aches every time he passes Mr. Legend's statue in the hall of Fortress Tower, every time a Hero praises the greatest hero that ever was, every time he so much as overhears Wild Tiger's name. Memories can hurt.
He returns to the photographs, finds one of two smiling boys surrounded by Christmas presents under a brightly-decorated tree, the younger blonde ensconced in his parents' arms as he tears open the wrapping paper with wild abandon. "Christmas at the Brooks' – 1956" it reads.
That Christmas had been a snowy one. The Brooks had invited them over for Christmas, since neither the Petrovs nor the Brooks had much extended family to speak of, and especially not near Stern Bild. It would make the house less lonely, they said, to have the Petrovs over. They'd invited Mr. Maverick over, too, but he'd declined, citing important business.
Yuri hadn't seen the Brooks for some time, as his father was starting to gain more popularity and fame as Stern Bild's first and greatest Hero. He was a lot busier than he'd ever been before, and didn't have much time to spend with his family, yet Yuri didn't want to complain. After all, his papa wasn't often home these days, but Yuri knew he was out there fighting for justice on the streets of Stern Bild.
But today was different. Today, his father and his mother and the Brooks were all here, enjoying the cheery atmosphere of the winter holidays and the fresh fallen snow outdoors.
Little Barnaby was also there, just three years old and already showing off his NEXT abilities by helping his mother put up decorations far too large for most children his age to lift. Yuri had to admit, he was a bit jealous. Sometimes he wished he had powers too, so he could help out his dad in his work.
Barnaby was just a kid, though (Yuri would never admit that he, too, could hardly be called an adult for some years yet), and if Yuri wanted to be a hero of justice like his dad, he couldn't be jealous of a little kid. So he helped Barnaby open his presents, and tried not to squeal with delight when his mother presented him with a little Legend costume of his own. He failed, but it didn't matter.
They went out and played in the snow that day, Yuri teaching Barnaby how to pack snowballs for throwing. Barnaby looked so put out every time his snowball collapsed in his hands that Yuri couldn't help but laugh, making Barnaby even more upset.
Yuri made up for it later by helping Barnaby put a mittenful of snow down Mr. Legend's back. They all shared a good laugh about that, his father more than anyone else.
"You little rascals," he boomed with mock anger, but Yuri could see his shoulders shaking with suppressed chuckles.
They went in an hour later, all three covered in snow and laughing their head off at how the others looked. Barnaby got warmed up with a cup of hot chocolate from his parents, and Yuri's father tousled his hair to brush some of the snow off.
Even if his papa couldn't be there all the time, he was when it mattered, Yuri had thought.
So many things that have been lost. So many memories that can no longer be relived. But Lunatic is not a creature of the past, though it has shaped him all his life. Lunatic is justice, and thoughts of better days have no place in its pursuit.
Placing the Christmas photo on the top of the stack, he collects the carefully sorted photographs in the smaller pile, filled with photos of the Brooks', all sans Albert Maverick and bereft of any indication of who the gray-haired child could have been, and prepares to send them to the one who needs them.
The rest he burns.
Barnaby Brooks, Jr. is surprised to see the package sitting innocuously on his desk at work one day. It is an envelope addressed to him, stuffed almost to bursting, with no sender or return address listed, and no hint as to how it arrived.
He would have disregarded it entirely, tossed the whole thing into the trash unopened, if he hadn't seen the words written in smooth, flowing handwriting on the front of the paper.
"To Barnaby – mementos of your parents," it reads. That is all.
Shaking, Barnaby calls Kotetsu, and together, that night, they page their way through photographs of halcyon days long past.
End
Been sitting on this for a while, and if there are any glaring mistakes, please tell me! Had to do this, because really, what were the chances that Barnaby, whose parents worked for HeroTV, and Yuri, whose father was the first Hero ever, never met until adulthood?