For every story of mine you see, there are many that never managed to make the leap from my brain to your eyeballs. Stories I Never Told is where I rectify that.
Listening to this wonderful interview with comic book legend Gerry Conway reminded me that a few years back — at the beginning of the Trump Years, as you will see — I pitched a Firestorm graphic novel to DC Comics for their then-new young adult imprint. It was rejected, for reasons I’m still not entirely clear on.
Anyway, I’m sort of glad it was rejected. Since then, I’ve come to feel that if the creator of a character is still alive and interested, then only that person should be writing the character in question. If the creator is not interested, then he or she is free to “bless” another writer. But really, unless Gerry Conway says it’s OK, no one else should be writing Firestorm.1
But hey — I’m still happy to share the pitch with y’all. Check it out…
The Fury of
FIRESTORMby Barry Lyga
Sometimes you can only rely on yourself…
…and maybe the voice in your head.We don’t have to write stories about kids learning that they can change the world. Check out Parkland. They already know.
But there’s still a place for stories about what to do with that power.
All things being equal, you probably think you’d like to be Ronnie Raymond. Handsome, well-liked, high school football star-in-the-making… Surrounded by friends, dating Doreen Day, who’s one of the smartest kids in school…
And oh yeah — a little while back, he happened to be present when a nuclear facility went ker-blooey, and as a result he was gifted with an array of super-powers, including the sexy-sounding “atomic restructuring.” Which basically means he can convert any inorganic matter into any other form of inorganic matter. Need a gold bar conjured from thin air? Need your backpack turned into a diorama of the surrender at Appomattox in time for third period History class? Firestorm’s your man.
Not bad.
But every silver lining has its cloud.
Ronnie can only become Firestorm by merging with Professor Martin Stein, who was with Ronnie when the nuke plant went sky-high. They form a whole new body, with Ronnie in control, but with Stein as a nagging, too-smart, old man voice in his head. Sometimes the guy gives good advice, but most of the time, honestly, it’s like a 24/7 livestream of your parents bitching at you.
Then there’s this: even though Firestorm mitigated almost all of the damage from the explosion, everyone assumed he made it happen in the first place since he was a super-powered guy on the scene. So the cops, the FBI, the NRC, the CIA, the NSA, the DEO, and pretty much every other TLA out there wants Firestorm in their greedy little clutches.
It’s tough to be a super-hero when you’re also a wanted man. Fortunately, Ronnie and Stein can split and no one’s ever the wiser.
Still…
He’d like to do something. He has all this power, and yet it feels like he’s wearing chains. Every time he tries to do something, he just gets chased down by the cops and pilloried by the media. What’s the point of having that power?
His “civilian” life isn’t much better. Yeah, he’s a football hero, but he’s losing his love of the game. One more year to graduation, and Ronnie’s only hope for college (and sticking with Doreen, whom he adores) is a football scholarship. After all, his grades don’t exactly set the world on fire, and his dad is an investigative reporter for a dying print publication. Which isn’t really a high-paying gig. Dad gets offers all the time from tony internet sites to work for them, but refuses to compromise his principles, no matter how much Ronnie begs him to “get a real job.”
Oh, and also: He’s dating the principal of Ronnie’s school. Come on!
Ronnie Raymond has all the power of a god, but he still can’t get his GPA above 2.9 and he still can’t figure out how to fix his mess of a life and he can’t even summon up the enthusiasm to join in the campus protests against the border wall that’s almost finished construction. Everyone else is engaged; why not him?
His football has become sloppy as he struggles with all of this, and during a critical game, he freezes up at one point, almost costing the team a win.
Dad gives him hell for it. “You just stood there! Like a deer in the headlights!”
“Really original, Dad.”
“I get paid for original, Ronnie. I don’t need my thesaurus to tell my kid to get his head out of the clouds and into the game.”
“But there was no good move! I had blockers on one side and a tight end on the other, and—“
“And when you have no good choices, you choose the least bad one. You do something.”
Fed up with his dad, losing his sense of self, Ronnie decides that he has to confide in someone about his double life. He can’t tell Doreen — she’d freak out, and he can’t live in a world where she doesn’t want to be with him. So instead he tells his best friend since grade school, Johnny St. James. They’ve shared everything, and on the football field, they’re pure magic together.
Johnny takes the reveal pretty well, actually. And then he tells Ronnie that since they’re sharing big secrets…
“I’m an alien.”
Ronnie goggles. “You mean…like Superman?”
Johnny laughs. “No, dude. More like Undocumented Man.”
Johnny’s birth name was Juan Santiago. His parents brought him across the border when he was two and a half, and they’ve lived here ever since. Johnny’s never told anyone, and it’s a huge burden lifted to finally speak it out loud.
Unfortunately, overhearing is Cliff Carmichael, the “brain-jock” of East Park High School. Cliff’s the kid who sold his first app to a start-up at the age of 12. He’s always been top dog, and he knows it. The only thing that bothers him more than bugs in his code is the idea that his peers are still stupid enough to worship the Neanderthals who play sports.
So of course he drops a dime on Johnny in order to gut the football team. And the next thing you know, the whole family’s been snatched up by ICE for deportation.
Ronnie’s dad, the big, bad investigative reporter, is no help. “Sometimes, son, all you can do is shout to the world Here’s a problem! And that’s more than you think. Awareness matters.”
Awareness matters??? Ronnie’s plenty aware, thanks. He needs to take action.
He’s never actually met Professor Stein before. They’ve shared a body, but never interacted when not Firestorm. Ronnie goes to him, thinking a guy that smart has to have some ideas.
And he learns a horrible secret: When he’s not Firestorm, Stein is a barely-functioning alcoholic. The transformation process clears his mind for their super-hero stints, but when he’s a civilian, he’s…
…just as useless as Ronnie’s dad.
And the teachers who watched ICE agents snatch Johnny out of Chem class.
And the politicians who can’t be bothered to figure any of it out.
Ronnie…
…loses it. And when he decides to go nuclear, well…take it literally.
He’s all-too-aware of his limitations. The ability to restructure matter doesn’t let him change the law. Or people’s minds. The only thing he can do is track down the Santiagos, who have been stashed away in a terrifying, extra-legal ICE facility.
Firestorm turns the place into steam, releasing everyone.
It feels good, even though ICE is now another one of those TLAs that would like to…talk to Firestorm. The good feeling doesn’t last, though. For one thing, it turns out his dad had been investigating the facility for a year and was working on a book that would have changed his life. Now, thanks to “that goddamn superhero!” it’s all moot.
And most of the detainees are quickly recaptured, though at least now they’re in actual law enforcement custody, where they can try to avail themselves of the courts. Better than ICE’s black sites.
But not good enough.
When you have no good choices, you choose the least bad one. You do something.
With ultimate power at his fingertips, Ronnie realizes that it’s incumbent on him to take a stand, force people to think, change the status quo. He has precisely zero good options, but he can’t let that stop him.
He flies south, to where the border wall is being constructed. It would be easy to vaporize the wall, but that would just leave nothing there. Nothing for people to contemplate.
Ronald, Professor Stein says, what on earth are you going to do?
Something.
So, instead of taking the wall down, he blasts massive holes in it. Now there’s a monument to failure on the southern border, a KEEP OUT sign that’s been shotgun-blasted. That “big, beautiful wall” is now a pointless eyesore.
Let people see that; let them see the futility of a wall.
Ronald, says the Professor with an almost parental sigh, they’ll just repair it.
“Let ‘em,” Firestorm says, flying away. “I’ll come back and do it again.”
And again.
And again.
As many times as it takes.