One Last Ride

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West

Fifty years ago, West Warner was a murderer.

Scratch that, he didn’t like the term ‘murderer,’ he preferred to be called an anti-hero. He killed the bad guys. He wasn’t like those other superheroes who preferred to detain their villains rather than stop them permanently. He acquired the alias ‘Gunslinger’ due to his cowboy-esque appearance and preference of guns.

He didn’t remember when, but at some point, he wanted to be better. Perhaps it was when he found out he had a daughter, a beautiful little girl whose lifeless body he had to carry in his arms thanks to a mistake he made. And he made a lot of those.

Flash forward fifty years and you’ll find West in a retirement home with his best friend and partner Pietro Perez. Who is this Pietro Perez, you ask? Why, he was the most beloved hero on the planet: Star Man! Yes, “was” is the proper verb here as Pietro hasn’t been Star Man in over twenty years. He’s retired, like West. Two old, retired heroes stuck in the same retirement home until they finally kick the bucket. West didn’t mind, however. He was just glad that they were together. They had to stay together. That was the only way to keep Pietro alive.

You see, twenty years ago, around the time Star Man’s career ended, West had made a terrible, terrible mistake. And that mistake cost the life of his very best friend and long time partner. Poor Star Man, sliced completely in half by the razor sharp blade of a robot. And it was all West’s fault. Star Man died in his arms that night, finally revealing his secret identity to his closest friend. But West wasn’t going to let Pietro Perez die, not if he could help it.

West had an awfully convenient ability called immortality. Nothing could kill him thanks to the strange mutation that flowed through his veins. And that’s how he kept Pietro alive. By injecting his own DNA into his best friend, he was able to prevent his death. Star Man was dead but Pietro Perez lived. And West could never tell him the truth about how he survived. He would never be forgiven.

Now Pietro was stuck in a wheelchair, seated across from him as his dark chocolate eyes stared in concentration at the chessboard. He’d been contemplating his move for the last ten minutes now and West was fine with that. He didn’t mind giving his partner all the time in the world so long as it meant that he would still be alive.

“How much longer do you need, Perez?” West urged playfully, stroking his bristly grey beard that had grown past his stomach. “Far as I can see, there’s only one possible move for you to make.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” Pietro gave a chuckle, removing the fingers that had been stroking his chin in thought as he wagged one wrinkly finger across the board. “There is always another way, no?”

And then that finger reached down and moved one white bishop to a space diagonal from where it sat previously.

“That’s what you always say, and yet,” West leaned forward to move his black knight into place. “You always lose. Checkmate, Perez.”

Pietro let out a string of muttered curses in Spanish, slouching in his wheelchair as he seemed to sulk. “Well done, my friend. You beat me yet again,” he sighed. “How are you so good at chess? You didn’t even know the rules when we first started playing together. I was the one who taught you to play!”

“You think too hard about it, Perez. You could’ve won if you had taken my advice. Your rook was one move away from a checkmate,” West laughed. “Maybe you’ll get me next time, so don’t frown. It’ll only give you more wrinkles.”

“Cállateee… you have more wrinkles than me, Warner,” Pietro huffed indignantly.

West stood slowly, giving a stretch as his old bones popped back into place, and made his way to stand behind his partner. “That’s because of all the stress you give me,” he joked as he began to wheel him towards the cafeteria.