Luke Cage: Gold
**Writer s note: I do not own the characters in this story, they are exclusive properties of Marvel, Marvel Entertainment, and Walt Disney. I'm a fan of Marvel s color books-ie, Spider-Man: Blue, Daredevil: Yellow, Hulk: Gray, Captain America: White. This is just a short story-slash-homage-slash-love letter to those books, using today s climate. I hope you all enjoy this. Feel free to leave comments. Thanks!**
I can t believe they asked me to do this.
Me.
There's mad heroes they could've got to do this; Cap, Stark, T'challa, Spidey...Deadpool
Aight, maybe not Deadpool.
I know that the Reverend will bring the message home, at least they asked me to go before him. But what am I supposed to say? What can I say? That there's a part of me that agrees with all of it, even understands the destruction aspects? That even in the quote/end quote superhero community our powers don t make us as immune to socio political constructs as people would think?
Or do I tell them the truth?
Do I tell them the real reason why I took a hard pause when the reporter asked me why can t those who are to serve and protect be more like me?
Luke Cage.
Harlem's Hero.
Do I tell them that even though I've experienced racism, poverty and many of the same hardships that we are placing a magnifying glass on; the harsh reality of my story:
That I was part of the problem.
"...And now the Hero of Harlem, New York City s own, Luke Cage!" The master of ceremonies declares.
I can t stop my palms from sweating. C'mon Luke, breathe. Find Jessica and Danielle in the crowd...breathe.
Here goes nothin.
"Good Afternoon, my name is Luke Cage. Y all gotta bear with me, I m really no good at...this." The superhero begins; his eyes cast down momentarily before finding his wife and daughter in the congregation. "In the Avengers, Captain America is the one who usually talks. He always knows what to say."
Just relax, Luke.
"I wish that I could say something, um, anything that could give comfort to the friends and family of the man whose passing we're here to honor today. But the truth is, there are no words that can take away the sting of the loss of a loved one." He takes a sip of water and smiles. "The only thing I can offer is hope. And the best way for me to do that, is to be transparent."
No turning back now.
"When I was first starting out.."
Years ago.
Harlem.
The man born Carl Lucas walks 138th Street doing his best to be as unassuming as possible, or at least as much as a 6'3, 240lb black man carrying a duffel bag can. Pops was a well known barbershop in the community, and while the man known as Pops has a reputation for taking in lost souls or strays as he calls them, none of them had the dimensions of the man now entering the barbershop.
His very entrance stops everything in the room-movements, conversations-everything. Pops offers a slight smile. "Lord, you outdid yourself," he mumbles under his breath. Then he says aloud: "Luke, right? Come with me".
Carl was so caught off guard by the eyes focusing on him in the room, he doesn t acknowledge that he s being called the wrong name. He follows Pops lead to the back room of the barbershop. Before closing the door, Pops sticks his head out.
"Go on, now. Back to what y'all were doing." He says to his staring patrons while smiling that trademark fatherly smile. "I'll be back down in a moment."
They head upstairs to a small apartment above the barbershop. Unlocking the door, Pops and Carl walk inside. Pops watches as Carl surveys the dusty and unkempt apartment.
"It's gonna need some work, Luke," Pops chuckles. "But the water works, the electricity works, and I got a new bed coming in later today."
Pops watches as Carl walks towards the fallen refrigerator, and effortlessly picks it up and sets it back in its place. He watches in further amazement as Carl easily picks up the couch and sets it where he wants in the living room.
"I knew there was something special bout you, Luke". Pops beams with pride.
"They were trying to create another Captain America, and this was the result." Carl shakes his head. "My skin's pretty much impenetrable. I'm stronger, faster..."
"...And wanted for breaking out of Seagate." He places a palm on Carl s shoulder. "That's why I call you Luke. Let them search for who they thought you were. It's a new beginning for you here Luke." Pops heads towards the door. "Well I'll leave you to it. Come on downstairs when you get a chance; meet everybody."
"I will." Luke smiles. "Thanks again, Pops."
"You really wanna show me your appreciation? Shave." Pops closes the door behind him.
Putting his duffel bag on the couch, Luke reaches inside pulling out an adamantium razor; a gift one of the Seagate guards was kind enough to give him. He walks into his surprisingly clean bathroom and takes a long look at himself in the mirror.
"To new beginnings." Luke raises his razor, tapping the razor to its own reflection like one would toast a glass of champagne.
He begins cutting his hair.
Later...
The newly christened, Luke comes back into the barbershop wearing a black thermal top, gray sweatpants, and black sneakers. His hair has been cut down to what is known as a Ceasar, and he cut his beard and mustache away, the first time he's been clean shaven since he first became a cop a lifetime ago.
There was barely any attention paid to Luke when he walked in, as everyone was glued to the television set.
"What's good y'all?" Luke asks as he walks in.
Pops does a double take. "Hey everybody, this is my man Luke from earlier. Luke come sit here, let Pops shape that hairline up for you".
Greeted by the room officially, Luke walks over to Pops station and sits down. Pops immediately covers and pulls out his trusted clippers. When Luke hears the soft buzz of the clippers he puts up a hand to stop Pops. When he stops, Luke reaches into his pocket and pulls out his adamantium reinforced razor, handing it to Pops.
"Remember what we talked about earlier?" Luke smiles. "Use this, it ll get the job done much better."
"Even your hair?" Pops whispers, with his eyebrows arched.
"Especially my hair". Luke nods.
"Hey yo!" A barber calls out. "Look at this! Turn the tv up!"
One of the young boys Pops hired to sweep the place and keep it clean does as he is asked. On the tv is news coverage of a fight between Spider-Man and Dr. Octopus in Elmhurst, Queens.
"Any of y'all ever notice they don't ever fight like that over here in the hood?" Another barber calls out.
"They'd probably team up against all of us, bruh." A patron says that gets everybody laughing. "Besides, I just got my car paid off. Keep them superhero battles over there, don't wreck my car."
"You finally got the Pacer paid off?" Another barber asks, to the laughter of everyone in the room.
"Saves me more money than you do on MetroCards." The patron shoots back.
"Yeah, but I can sleep in the mornings, not having to worry about side of the street parking, bruh." The barber tilts his head to the side.
"That's a good point," Another barber chimes in.
Beaten in this recent war of words, the patron gets up and pays his barber. "Yeah, well...it s paid off!" He says, leaving abruptly.
As the door closes behind him, the first barber adds the cherry on top. "He's gonna cry in the car."
Everyone howls with laughter as the barber turns to the sport's network.
"Seriously though, none of those superheroes ever comes through?" Luke asks. "I thought New York City was the best place to see them or their fights."
"Yo man, not even the Hulk rampages through here. You know a city ain't a city if the Hulk ain't flatten it at least once." The first barber says sardonically, getting more laughs from the other barbers.
"I saw Black Panther once." An older barber says.
"Aw, here he goes again". Pops rolls his eyes.
"He was here looking for a bride, after his last one in Africa kept hopping on one leg and barking like a dog." The older barber says.
"I keep telling you, man. That was 'Coming to America', not the Black Panther." Pops answers back, finishing Luke's shape up.
"I know what I saw." The older barber trails off.
"Speaking of Black Panther, I saw the black chick from the X-Men. What s her name? Storm or something like that? Yo, she was in the city to do one of those talk shows. My dude, I was ready to risk it all, nah'mean! I mean cakes like Duncan Hines, y'all."
"Facts." Another barber fists bumps the first.
"She's like Beyonce, but can fly." The first barber continues. "I think I'm in love, just don't tell my girl that."
"MAN, YOU AIN'T GOT NO GIRL!"
Everyone, sans Luke shouts in unison. A large bellow of laughter follows behind it, as the barber always mentions having a girlfriend, but no one in the shop from the barbers to the patrons have ever seen her. Therefore it's reasoned she does not exist, a reasoning they do not hesitate to chide this barber about any time they get the chance.
A smiling Luke stands to his feet as Pops takes the sheet from off Luke. "I'll be back Pops, I m gonna get the lay of the land round here."
"Take this." Pops whispers, handing Luke a wad of money. "Be safe out there."
"Thanks." Luke puts the money in his pocket. "I'll pay you back, I promise."
"Don't worry about it, it s a gift." Pops answers back. "Now get outta here".
Luke nods heading out of the Barbershop. The earlier conversation about superheroes replays over in his head for a few blocks. He d heard about the courage of Captain America, and how inspirational just speaking with him can be. Spider-Man s magnetism and everyman approach whether he was hated or not. What about the hood? Didn t the hood need representation? Wasn t the hood important enough for at least a fly by, for some kind of validation...
...for protection.
Luke was so lost in his thoughts, he didn t get to move out of the way of the two speeding men who looked to be in the same age range as Luke. The first one runs directly into Luke, which is literally, exactly like running into a steel reinforced door. And the first runner falls to pavement accordingly; barely conscious. Luke stands there with the first runner s purse in his hands trying to process what is going on.
"What the hell you do to my boy?!" The second runner yells. "Gimme that!"
Reaching for the purse Luke is holding, the man grabs it, and pulls. Neither the purse nor Luke budges an inch.
"Oh you strong? You the black Hulk or sum?" He brandishes a pistol. "Give me the purse...Now!"
Realizing the situation, Luke smiles back at the would be criminal. "No." He shakes his head. "Go home, save yourself some grief."
"Famous last words, bruh." The criminal takes the safety off the pistol. "I'ma make sure it's on your tombstone."
BANG!
A crumbled bullet falls to the ground as Luke stands there; his unbreakable skin saving the day. The thief frantically shakes as he fires another shot at Luke, which produces the same effect.
"Wha-What the hell are you?!" The thief exclaims.
Luke examines the new bullet holes, placed in his new shirt. "What am I? Pissed!"
He lightly slaps the thief, knocking him out. A middle aged woman is panting, trying to jog up the hill. She eventually makes her way to Luke...
"They took my purse- *pant, cough* -is that it?" She puts her palms to her knees, catching her breath.
"I believe so, ma'am." Luke hands it to her.
She goes through her items, seeing her wallet and ID. The woman then hits both men on the ground a few times with her retrieved purse. Then pinches both their ears for good measure.
"That's for taking my purse, ya oughta be ashamed of yourselves. She wags her finger at the two would be thieves." Then she turns her attention towards Luke. "And if I find that even a penny is missing from my purse, I don't care how many muscles you have, and how good you look in a tight shirt; there will sho'nuff be some smoke in the city!"
As Luke chuckles to himself watching her walk away, Luke turns back around to see that virtually everyone has their digital cameras out taking pictures of his altercation. A small smattering of applause follows behind it. The future hero politely nods and continues about, shaking some hands as heads further down the block.
Hours Later...
Luke walks back into the barbershop carrying several shopping bags. It s past closing time and all the barbers and patrons have gone for the day, save for Pops who is watching the news with a carton of Chicken lo Mein from Fong Wei s up the street. He takes a sip from his can of soda and looks his newest tenant up and down.
"Well somebody had a big day I see." Pops points at Luke.
"Wow Pops, you really have your ear to the streets, huh?" Luke sets his bags down at an empty barber station. He lets loose a sigh of relief as he sits down besides Pops. "You don't miss anything that happens out there do you?"
"Well, you don't get to be my age and survive the way I have without being well informed." Pops chuckles. "But in this instance, it's not my ear to the streets that let me know of your heroism, sorry, Super-heroism. . There's Chicken lo Mein and Fried Dumplings in there for you too."
"What do you mean by not your ear to the streets?" Luke pulls the carton from the bag and plastic fork from the bag. "How did you find out?"
Pops points towards the tv. "They've been replaying your day from all these people's different cameras and what not. That bulletproof skin of yours sure came in handy didn't it?"
"I'll say."
Both men share a laugh.
"I don't know who he is, or where he came from, but the brother looks like he's carved out of granite. I mean he's gorgeous! That hot cup of coffee could rescue this sista, anyday!" Came from the tv. Luke blushes.
"With all this female attention you're garnering, I hope you don't forget the terms of our arrangement, Luke." Pops raises a concerned eyebrow.
"Yes, payment by the 5th and no loud music after 11pm." Luke recites.
"Well yes, but our other arrangement."
Luke shakes his head. "Other?"
"Absolutely and this might be the most important. If you re bringing these honeys over, then you are obligated to find out if they have an older or younger sister to hook up with me. It's in the fine print." Pops nods with a laugh.
"That's a given, Pops. You ain't have to put that in fine print." Luke laughs with him.
"Well I'm going to get upstairs, Luke." Pops stands to his feet. "Who'd've thought I'd bring Harlem it's own hero? Good job son. See you in the morning."
Luke smiles and goes back to having his dinner. He sits back reflecting on his day, true he was no longer an officer of the law, but the powers he s been bestowed with he cannot ignore. While he s not open to admitting this aloud, he does miss the adrenaline rush that comes from his former life.
"A masked criminal known as The Prowler has been targeting several police precincts in the area. It's unknown why he is attacking the officers, and there have been no fatalities in these encounters..." Plays on the television, catching Luke s attention.
"Aight, then." Luke dips a dumpling into his soy sauce. "I'ma give the boys in blue a hand."
He jumps to his feet, striking the familiar superhero pose with his fists resting on his hips.
"CAUSE THIS IS A JOB FOR .for...um, Black...Power!" Luke sits back down in his chair, and spins a fork full of chicken lo mein, eating it. "Ehh, maybe not, sounds too 60's. I guess I gotta think of something catchy."
After he finishes eating, New York's newest hero grabs his bags and heads upstairs to his apartment to call it a night.
The Next Day...
It s been almost 4 hours since Luke left Pops Barbershop in his new superhero garb: A yellow zip up hoodie, baggy blue, denim jeans, a pair of wheat colored boots, a yellow durag, and a thick bicycle chain hanging off his neck, with a locked padlock on one of the links. Luke has been walking around to the different precincts keeping a look out for The Prowler. He s also been talking to random passerbys on the street, getting to know those he has sworn to himself to protect a little better. Luke s helped older women carry their bags home, hail buses, and has been a sounding board for the older men to tell their stories of yesteryear.
Carrying the bags for a particularly talkative older woman, Luke places the bags on her table, and prepares himself to leave.
"...So that's when I found out my niece, Cecilia is a mutant. She's not a superhero or anything, no, she became a doctor, you know." The older woman casually turned on her television. "She s cute, I could set you two up."
"We are live from Spanish Harlem where it is believed there is a scuffle going down between cops and the villain, The Prowler who has been terrorizing the police here in Harlem for several days..." Came from the television.
"Just who I was looking for." Luke says under his breath with a grin. "Um, Ms. Reyes, I have to go. Let's take a raincheck on meeting your niece, she seems like she s a nice lady."
Luke flips his hood up and heads out. Outside, throngs of people are headed towards the precinct to catch a glimpse of the showdown between The Prowler and the police. Luke sprints ahead through the streets, until he comes to the mass gathering of people by Ernies , widely viewed as the best bodega in Harlem. There stood the showdown between the police and the Prowler in his traditional green mechanical body suit and purple cowl and gloves. His glider was pointed away at the police, covering them in its exhaust.
"Surrender Prowler, or there will be grave consequences!" An officer yells through his bullhorn.
"You-You don't understand!" The Prowler stammers. "It's deeper than me, deeper than everything I've been doing the past couple of weeks. I-I just need more time..."
"You leave us no choice...Open...fi-"
The officer means to say fire, but he passes out, as do the rest of the cops nearby. Turns out it was more than exhaust fumes his glider is putting out. The Prowler is dousing the police with a heavy dose of the knockout gas that he s known to produce from his suit, emptying its reserves.
"I'm sorry, but there was no other way." The Prowler says quietly as he steps onto his glider.
Luke gets a running start, his powerful legs and healing factor giving him a speed faster than average. Just as The Prowler starts to pass overhead, Luke leaps after The Prowler, grabbing hold onto his glider. With his glider tilting downward because of the sudden added weight, Luke pulls himself up next to the villain.
"Land it, NOW!" Luke says with authority.
"No!" The Prowler answers sternly. "This suit is OsCorp tech mixed with Stark tech, so trust me when I say,' no,' I mean-" Using the propulsion boots he s appropriated from Stark tech, The Prowler kicks Luke in the solar plexus. "-GET THE HELL OFF MY GLIDER!
The power behind the kick was enough to knock Luke off balance and off the glider. Making a last ditch effort, Luke grabs the back of The Prowler s cowl pulling both men hurtling toward Malcolm X boulevard, where they land with an audible THOOM! that could be heard from blocks away.
Luke, having taken the lion s share of the impact, groans as he sits up. His neck cracks loudly. "Ooooh, that actually felt good."
Before he can fully gather his thoughts, he s greeted by a rocket propulsed kick to the jaw.
"Surviving that fall should ve been a warning, but I'll say it to you anyway; this is not your fight." The Prowler says with his fists raised.
"Like hell it ain't!" Luke charges.
A little known fact about The Prowler, is that he is a well trained martial artist, while Luke having been trained by his former police force for the most part is a brawler who will take 5 shots to give you one good one. But Luke s powers are enough that the one good one could usually be the only one. For all of The Prowler s precision, even when aided by Stark s propulsion technology, he can t land a blow, or a succession of blows that can slow down his opponent. Luke keeps coming forward, giving The Prowler a heavy front kick that indents The Prowler into the side of an unmanned taxi.
By now a huge crowd has formed around the pair along with news helicopters and the police trying to warn the crowd to give them space. The Prowler wedges himself free of the taxi and aims his gloves at Luke. Luke prepares himself for a propulsion blast, but instead, Luke hears a hiss, as The Prowler is directing the last of the sleeping gas he has in his suit in Luke s direction.
The Prowler may as well have been blowing baby powder at Luke, as Luke walks through the cloud with a brief sneeze.
"Give up, man. This ain't gonna end well for you." Luke continues walking towards The Prowler.
The Prowler pushes a series of buttons on his glove, keeping his eye on the digital power level reading that is steadily lowering the longer this fight goes. "Look man, I don t wanna hurt you!"
"I don t think you can, bruh." Luke says confidently.
The fingertips of The Prowler s gloves turn into claws. Cautioning that the claws could be adamantium, Luke slows his approach, which The Prowler notices. The Prowler pushes another button on his gloves which lets out a beeping sound, then takes several slashes at Luke who jumps back to avoid the bladed claws.
"Yeah, not so tough now are you?" The Prowler asks, taking another slash. "I'm warning you, back off. This is not your fight!"
Before Luke could retort, The Prowler s glider slams into Luke. It was the glider s explosion that caught The Prowler by surprise. When the smoke cleared, Luke was crawling on his stomach, making his way back to his feet. Now without a way to charge his suit, which is flashing a power percentage of 18%, The Prowler gets desperate. Luke, with his clothes now in tatters stands to his feet, receiving two slashes to his chest.
The look of horror on The Prowler s face when he looks at his hands and sees the steel claws bent and distorted turns fight to flight. "Oh sh-" The Prowler turns and jumps, using the propulsion boots to try to escape.
Luke tackles The Prowler back to the unforgiving streets. By this point, different news media outlets are already there, in addition to everyone else covering this with some sort of device. But this is all lost on Luke who is laser focused on The Prowler whose OsCorp and Stark tech suit cannot stand up to the gale force blows of Luke s obvious superior strength. Blow after blow, slam after slam, Luke s adrenaline races. The crowd however, who solidly was behind Luke at the beginning, suddenly becomes vocal.
"Yo! He's had enough, man! Let the cops take over from here!" One person yells.
"Yeah, you won already, you ain t gotta kill him!" Another person yells.
Luke was too lost in the throes of delivering his brand of justice to hear the pleas for mercy on The Prowler s behalf. Eventually, everyone viscerally turns on Luke.
"You ain't no hero, you're just another psycho!" Comes from the crowd.
Luke grabs The Prowler by the throat, squeezing him into the air, and ripping The Prowler's cowl off to reveal The Prowler's now swollen, and bloodied face.
"P-Please, y-you don t understand." He says as tears fall for what The Prowler thinks will be his last time. "They were gonna kill my family. I had to do it. I can t...I-I can't brea-"
"Now I m supposed to believe you?!" Luke squeezes, bringing The Prowler face to face with him. "Gimme one reason why I should, punk."
New to the superhero game, Luke doesn t notice the sudden change in atmospheric pressure heading towards him. Luke however, does notice the punch to his jaw that follows it, sending Luke flying into a nearby Verdure Watches billboard. It would be at least 2 months before that company could change the time from continuously blinking, 8:46pm . As Luke fades into unconsciousness, he feels a boot press up against his chest.
"Because I believe him." The voice belonging to the punch says. "That check is gonna clear tomorrow, right?"
"Sweet...Christmas." Luke passes out.
The Present...
"After I woke back up, I went back to Pops, and man did he ever give me a talkin to." Luke nods. "But it was something I really needed to hear. He told me that strength has to be tempered with compassion, restraint. 'That's power, man.' Luke imitated Pops' voice.
Thanks so much Pops.
"So of course, I chose that as my hero name: Power Man. Tiara and all." Luke draws some laughs from the church who remember his initial codename. "And many of you, some of whom are right here in this church, were right to call me out on that. At least, I didn t stay with Black Power."
Another round of laughs comes from the congregation.
"It's not fair to paint all of those trusted with power as untrustworthy, even though we have been painted with those same broad strokes as a people; and we who have been trusted with power have to remember that we have to earn that trust every day, with every action. That's the burden of our responsibility, and it's one, we cannot, must not fail.
"Black Lives Matter!" Someone shouts from the congregation.
"Yes...yes, and I'll never take that for granted again." Luke nods his head. "I'm living proof that we who have powers can make a change. If we hold ourselves and each other accountable there's no limit to the amount of good we can accomplish."
The congregation gives Luke an extended standing applause.
"For those of you keeping score, we eventually got to the root of The Prowler's situation, and he's since turned himself into a good man, a family man. The real hero of the story is the person who stopped me from doing something there is no coming back from." Luke smiles. "So whatever happened to the person knocked me into lala land? Well, I got my revenge."
Luke adjusts his tie.
"...I married her."
End.