"The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." — Nelson Mandela

———

"Superhero's, Americas modern mythos. Flying in the sky like gods. Using heat vision to smite the wrong doers. And using super strength to...good god, who wrote this?" Arther winced as he was reading the script in front of him. The script was at least five pages, talking about superheroes, what they mean, and everything they did. Though most of it was just repetitive, and sounded like something out of a soap opera.

"You expect me to remember all this? Not to mention, have you read all this stuff? There is less dramatic writing in a high school drama." Arthur said giving the script another quick read.

"Just remember as much as you can. You're an actor, and this script is from one of them high school interns. You just need to make it sound good." Arthur's boss and agent, Bertie, spoke as he sat behind one of the cameras. For a short man who weighed 130 soaking wet, Bertie spoke loud and big.

Arthur rubbed his temples, and went back to reading over the script, mumbling the words to himself. Arthur Danner, was a tall, lean, man with messy coconut brown hair and light blue eyes. The Caucasian man read over the script, but his eyes kept glancing around the room. Arthur was an actor, if you could call him that, or if he considered himself one. He worked for Local Channel 19, for the late night comedy hour. In which he'd dress up as something related to the movie he'd introduce, talk about, and recap. It was embarrassing, but the pay was good, and it kept him busy.

Local Channel Four was a small, regional television station that serves the local community with a variety of programming.

"Ok. So what's the film I'm going over again?" Arthur asked, perking his head in Bertie's direction. Bertie opened his mouth, but stopped before he even said a thing. He quickly grabbed some papers and read over them.

"The incredible and sensational Night Man." Bertie said reading the paper.

Arthur sighed deeply, shaking his head as he set the script down. "Right. Night Man. Another masked vigilante fighting crime in a fictional city. At least it's not another vampire flick, with a 10,000 dollar budget," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that he had a few hours before the live broadcast.

"Look, Bertie, I'll do my best with this, but can we at least trim some of the fluff? It's like someone tried to write Shakespearean drama into a superhero monologue," Arthur suggested, hoping for some reprieve from the overwrought script.

Bertie shrugged. "You know the drill, Arthur. We gotta keep the sponsors happy. Just sprinkle in some of your charm and make it work. You've got this." Bertie gave Arthur a thumbs up and signaled to him to read the script again.

Arthur sighed, looking around the studio they had set up. It was as small as a cheap hotel room, because it was a cheap hotel room. The station couldn't afford a real studio, so they made do with what they could get. The room was cluttered with lighting equipment, cameras, and various props strewn about. The bed had been pushed to one side, and a faux backdrop had been set up against one wall to give the illusion of a more professional setting.

"Well, could be worst. At least this place has free breakfast." Arthur was thinking to himself as he picked up the script again, and went back to reading over his lines. He mumbled as he was reading the script to himself about superheroes. The script praised superheroes as if they were great golden gods who had it easy.

"Kid, you wear their shoes for five minutes and you'll be redacting that statement." Arthur mumbled to himself as he shook his head.

Though Arthur wasn't surprised by the statements. Just yesterday he saw a report on the news that the superhero known as Wind Rider, managed to put out a burning building just by taking a deep breath and blowing at it. And last week there was a report that new superhero, Blitzen, stopped a bank robbery using her super speed. The media ate it up, turning her into an overnight sensation.

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted by Bertie's voice. "Alright, Arthur, ready to roll? Remember, just make it sound good."

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur replied, taking a deep breath. He glanced around the makeshift studio in the hotel room, the camera set up in the corner, the lights casting an artificial glow. It wasn't the most glamorous setting, but it was what they had to work with.

Arthur sighed and put the script down, rubbing his temples. "Why do they always make it sound so... glamorous?" he muttered.

Bertie looked up from his papers, raising an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

Arthur forced a smile. "No, just... getting into character."

"Good," Bertie said, nodding approvingly. "Remember, you just need to make it sound good. The audience eats this stuff up."

Arthur nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. As he picked up the script again, he couldn't help but feel a pang of something—regret? Frustration?—every time he read another line extolling the effortless heroics of the people in capes and masks.

"Alright, let's get this over with," he said, standing up and stretching his arms. "Where's my costume?"

Bertie handed him a gaudy, spandex outfit that looked like it had been designed by someone who'd never seen a real superhero in their life. Arthur's eyes widened as he saw the suit. If this was someone's idea of a joke, he wasn't laughing. Arthur sighed, forced himself to stay silent and took it, heading to the small bathroom to change.

As he looked at himself in the mirror, now dressed in the ridiculous outfit, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, at least it's just for a late-night comedy show," he thought.

He stepped out of the bathroom, ready to start filming. "Let's do this," he said with a grin, masking the complicated emotions churning inside him.

Bertie gave him a thumbs up, and the cameras started rolling. Arthur took a deep breath, put on his best heroic voice, and began to recite the lines from the script, pushing aside the nagging thoughts at the back of his mind.

"God. This is humiliating." Arthur was thinking to himself.

Once filming was done, Arthur wasted no time in changing out of the gaudy spandex suit. He slipped back into his own clothes—a comfortable pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt, and a well-worn leather jacket. With a sigh of relief, he grabbed his bag and headed out of the makeshift studio, nodding a quick goodbye to Bertie.

Arthur made his way to his car, a reliable but aging sedan. He slipped into the driver's seat, started the engine, and headed toward the other side of town. His destination was a place he had become all too familiar with. Wild Side—the strip club where his girlfriend, B, worked.

Brianna, or B as she preferred to be called, was a striking dark skinned woman with an aura of strength and resilience. She had a tall, athletic build, honed from years of dance and physical fitness. Her dark hair was often styled in a short, edgy cut, highlighting her angular features and sharp, intelligent eyes. She had a penchant for leather jackets, combat boots, and punk accessories, which suited her no-nonsense attitude.

Despite her tough exterior, B had a softer side that she reserved for those she cared about. Arthur knew this well; she was fiercely protective and loyal, and her straightforward honesty was one of the things he loved most about her.

He pulled up outside the strip club, a neon-lit building with a discreet entrance. As he waited in the car, he glanced at his watch and then at the entrance, watching the people coming and going. The club was bustling with activity, a mix of patrons looking for entertainment and dancers heading in and out.

After a few minutes, the door swung open, and B stepped out, looking every bit the confident performer she was. Tonight, she was dressed in a black leather mini-skirt, fishnet stockings, and a fitted crop top that showed off a generous amount of cleavage and her midriff. She wore high-heeled boots that clicked against the pavement as she walked, and her makeup was bold and dramatic, enhancing her striking features.

Arthur watched as she made her way to the car, a smile tugging at his lips. Despite the challenging nature of her job, B always carried herself with an air of defiance and confidence. She opened the car door and slipped inside, giving Arthur a quick peck on the cheek.

"Hey there, superstar," she said with a smirk, referring to his work on the late-night show.

"Hey yourself," Arthur replied, returning her smile. "How was your night?"

"Same as always," B said with a shrug, buckling her seatbelt. "Glad it's over. How about you? How was filming?"

Arthur groaned, shaking his head. "Don't get me started. It was a mess. But it's done, and that's what matters."

B chuckled. "Sounds like you need a drink."

"Maybe," Arthur said, putting the car into gear and pulling away from the curb. "But first, let's get out of here. Anywhere you'd like to go?"

"Home," B said, leaning back in her seat. "I'm exhausted."

Arthur nodded, understanding her fatigue. "Home it is."

As Arthur navigated through the late-night traffic, he glanced over at B. "So, how was work tonight?"

B sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Same old, same old. A couple of rowdy patrons who needed reminding that 'no touching' means 'no touching,' but nothing I couldn't handle. Besides, you're the only one exempt from that rule for me."

Arthur frowned slightly. "Anyone give you a hard time?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," B replied, her voice steady. "You know how it is. Just a bunch of guys thinking they can get away with anything because they've had a few drinks. But hey, only happened three times this week. That's two less than last week."

Arthur's grip on the steering wheel tightened momentarily. He hated the idea of B having to deal with that kind of behavior, but he also knew she was more than capable of handling herself. "I wish you didn't have to put up with that."

B reached over and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "It's part of the job, Arthur. But don't worry, I can take care of myself. Besides, it's not all bad. There are some decent people who come in, and the tips are good."

Arthur nodded, but he couldn't shake the lingering worry. "Still, I just want you to be safe."

B gave him a soft smile. "I know, and I appreciate it. But you don't need to worry so much. I'm tougher than I look."

He chuckled, knowing she was right. "Yeah, you are. So, any plans for tomorrow?"

B shrugged. "Nothing major. Thought I might hit the gym in the morning, then maybe get our grocery shopping done. What about you?"

"I've got a meeting with Bertie in the morning," Arthur said. "But other than that, not much. Maybe we could cook dinner together?"

B's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "That sounds perfect. What do you feel like eating?"

"Hmm, how about pasta? We haven't had that in a while."

"Good choice," B agreed. "Pasta it is."

As they drove, the conversation turned to B's job history. Arthur couldn't help but ask, "Do you ever miss any of your old jobs?"

B laughed, though there was a hint of bitterness in it. "Miss them? Not really. They were all a disaster."

Arthur nodded, encouraging her to continue. "What happened with the first one again? Wasn't that the office job?"

"Yeah," B said, rolling her eyes. "I lost that one once they figured out I didn't have a degree. Seriously, it was just data entry and programming, not rocket science."

Arthur shook his head. "That's ridiculous. I've seen you working on computers. You were overqualified for that job."

"I know, right?" B agreed. "But whatever, their loss."

"And the school job as a janitor?" Arthur asked, already knowing it was a sore subject but curious about her thoughts now.

B sighed deeply. "That one was a mess. I liked the kids, but one of the older students made a really inappropriate comment, speed a rumor about me, and tried to get handsy. I lost it and busted his nose."

Arthur's expression hardened. "Well, he deserved it."

"He did," B said firmly. "But apparently defending myself was too much for the school."

Arthur nodded, understanding her frustration. "And then there was the bar..."

"Yeah, the bar," B said with a grimace. "That was the worst. Some guy called me the N-word, and I just saw red. Next thing I knew, I'd punched him five times. They fired me on the spot. Look, I didn't care if we were both Black; I'm not going to let anyone call me that word. No one gets a pass in my book."

Arthur reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

"It's fine," B said, her voice strong. "Those jobs weren't right for me anyway. At least now I'm somewhere I can handle myself."

Arthur sighed. "I just wish things were easier for you."

B leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Life isn't supposed to be easy, Arthur. It's about finding where you belong. And right now, I'm fine with where I am. Plus, May dad always said if things were easy, life would throw a temper tantrum."

Arthur smiled at her. "I know. And I'm proud of you for standing up for yourself, no matter what."

"Thanks," B said, giving his hand a squeeze in return. "And thanks for always being there for me."

"Always," Arthur promised.

After a moment, he glanced at her, curiosity piqued. "Do your parents and Maya know about your current job?"

B's expression shifted instantly to one of fear. "No, they don't," she confessed, her voice tense.

"And they can't find out, especially not Maya. In fact, she'd kill me if she knew. She'd flip and never let me hear the end of it. You know how she is about 'proper careers', 'image', and 'women's rights'. She'll act like I broke the Hope Diamond."

Arthur could see the stress it caused her. It was stressing him too just thinking about the possibility. "Hey, your job is your choice, and you're doing what you need to do," he reassured her, trying to alleviate some of her anxiety. "It's nobody's business but yours."

"Yeah, but Maya wouldn't see it that way," B sighed, looking out the window. "She thinks she knows what's best for me all the time. Did you see how she was when we first started dating? She was trying to pressure me to dump you because apparently dating is 'stealing my independence.'"

Arthur reached over to squeeze her hand, offering a comforting smile. " We'll keep it between us, and when you're ready, if you're ready, you can tell them on your terms."

B managed a small smile, squeezing his hand back and kissed it. "Thanks, Arty."

Arthur smiled and pecked her cheek, before arriving and pulling into the driveway of their shared house. Their house was a small beach house. It was small, but just big enough for them both.

The couple exited the car and walked up the stairs. Arthur fumbled with the keys a bit before finding the key to the house, unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hello, old friend." B said as she laid down on the couch, face first. Arthur walked over and gently rubbed her back. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the head. "How about I make us some dinner while you relax?"

B turned her head slightly to look up at him, her eyes grateful. "You're the best, you know that?"

He smiled, running a hand through her hair. "Just trying to take care of you. You deserve it." He straightened up and headed towards the kitchen, leaving B to unwind on the couch.

Arthur was chopping vegetables when his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen and saw a group text from Maya. With a quick swipe, he opened the message, reading it aloud.

"Hey, guys! Dinner at Mom and Dad's tomorrow night at 7. See you there!"

B groaned from the couch. "Oh no, not dinner at their place."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, continuing to chop the vegetables. "You love your parents, though."

"I do," B replied, sitting up. "But their cooking... it's either dry and tasteless, or wet, salty, and drenched in grease. Remember the last time? I couldn't eat for a whole day afterward."

Arthur laughed softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, that was rough. Maybe we can bring something? Like a side dish or dessert?"

B brightened up a bit at that suggestion. "That's actually a good idea. Maybe I can bake something. Something that doesn't taste like a heart attack waiting to happen."

Arthur smiled and nodded. "There you go. And who knows, maybe they'll surprise us this time."

B gave him a skeptical look. "Don't hold your breath, but yeah, let's hope." She got up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Arthur from behind and peeking over his shoulder. "Whatcha making?"

"Just a simple stir-fry," he said, enjoying her warmth against his back. "Should be ready in a bit."

B squeezed him gently. "Thanks for cooking. You always know how to make things better."

She then playfully nudged him with her hip.

"I'm gonna change out of these clothes," she said with a mischievous grin. "Unless you'd rather I keep them on?"

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "You know, as tempting as that is, I think you should be comfortable. Besides, I don't want you getting grease on those fancy shoes."

B laughed, running a hand down his back. "Always the practical one, aren't you?" She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "But you know, there's something kinda fun about cooking in just an apron..."

Arthur blushed, trying to keep his focus on the stir-fry. "You're impossible," he said, smiling despite himself. "Go change before you give me a heart attack."

With a playful wink, B turned and headed toward their bedroom. "Don't go anywhere. I might need some help getting out of this outfit," she called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with flirtation.

Arthur reached for the remote and turned on the TV, hoping for some background noise to accompany his cooking. The screen flickered to life, immediately displaying a report on the latest exploits of Wind Rider

"...Wind Rider's heroic actions saved countless lives today as he used his control over the wind to extinguish a massive fire in the downtown area. Witnesses described it as—"

Arthur rolled his eyes and changed the channel. This time, it was a report about another superhero, Blitzen.

"...and Blitzen's incredible speed was once again on display as she thwarted a mass shooting, apprehending the suspects in less than—"

He clicked the remote again, hoping for something different, but the next channel was covering a story about a superhero named Iron Sentinel.

"...Iron Sentinel managed to prevent a major disaster at the nuclear plant, using his advanced technology to—"

"Seriously?" Arthur groaned and tried one more time. The screen now showed a report on a superhero team, The Guardians of Justice.

"...and The Guardians of Justice have once again proven their worth by stopping an alien invasion—"

Frustrated, he turned off the TV and decided to try the radio instead. However, as soon as he tuned in, he heard the familiar voice of the radio DJ.

"...in other news, the superhero Starflare was seen today saving a group of hikers who were trapped on a mountain during—"

"Your kidding me." Arthur said as he turned off the radio. "There are more interesting things going on in the world. Not sure what they are, but there are more interesting things going on." Arthur said in frustration.

B, now dressed in comfortable sweatpants and a two sizes too large jersey, came back into the kitchen and noticed his frustration. She tilted her head, concern flashing in her eyes. "Hey, everything okay?"

Arthur forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, just... seems like there's no escape from superhero stuff today."

B walked over and wrapped her arms around him, her presence a comforting anchor. "Well, you've got me. And I'm much more interesting than any superhero report," she said, kissing his cheek.

Arthur chuckled softly, the tension easing a bit. "You're right about that. You always know how to make things better."

B squeezed him gently. "That's my job. Now, let's finish up this dinner and then maybe we can find a nice, non-heroic movie to watch. Sound good?"

Arthur nodded, grateful for her understanding. "Sounds perfect."

Arthur and B finished cooking together, the kitchen filled with laughter and playful banter. They set the table and sat down to enjoy their meal, savoring the flavors of the stir-fried vegetables and perfectly cooked chicken. Arthur felt a sense of calm wash over him, appreciating this moment of normalcy with B.

After dinner, they cleaned up quickly, eager to settle in for the evening. B grabbed a blanket and draped it over the couch as Arthur searched through their collection of movies. He finally settled on a cheesy crime thriller, a film they both knew would provide some much-needed escapism.

As the movie started, Arthur and B snuggled up together under the blanket. The opening scene was predictably dramatic, with over-the-top dialogue and exaggerated action sequences. They exchanged amused glances, enjoying the lightheartedness of the film.

"How do they expect us to believe that guy could survive that explosion?" B said, giggling as the protagonist walked away from a fiery blast without a scratch.

Arthur laughed. "It's all part of the charm. The more ridiculous, the better."

After the movie ended, Arthur and B decided to spend the rest of the night unwinding further and enjoying each other's company.

They started by making a big bowl of popcorn and selecting a few more light-hearted movies to create an impromptu movie marathon. They laughed through a couple of classic comedies, the room filled with the sounds of their shared amusement.

As the night grew later, they decided to take a break from the screen. B suggested they head out to their small porch to enjoy the cool beach air. They grabbed a couple of blankets and a bottle of wine, stepping out to the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore.

Under the stars, they sat together on a cushioned bench, wrapped in blankets to fend off the chill. They talked about their hopes and dreams, reminisced about fond memories, and even shared a few funny stories from their childhoods. Arthur's fingers absentmindedly played with B's hair as they talked, creating a feeling of deep connection and comfort.

"Remember when we first met?" B asked, her voice soft and warm.

Arthur smiled, looking into her eyes. "How could I forget? You walked into the studio like you owned the place. I thought, 'Who is this incredible woman?'"

B chuckled. "And you were so shy. I had to drag you out of your shell."

"Well, it worked," Arthur said, kissing her forehead. "Look at us now."

They spent hours talking, occasionally pausing to listen to the soothing sound of the ocean. Eventually, the conversation slowed, and they just enjoyed the peaceful silence, basking in the presence of each other.

When the night turned into the early hours of the morning, they finally decided to head back inside. They changed into their pajamas, brushing their teeth side by side in their small but cozy bathroom.

Back in the bedroom, they crawled under the covers, snuggling close. B rested her head on Arthur's chest, and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her tightly.

"Goodnight, Arthur," B whispered.

"Goodnight, B," Arthur replied, kissing the top of her head.

As Arthur lay in bed, the soft rhythm of B's breathing against his chest began to lull him to sleep. The darkness of the room and the gentle sound of the ocean outside their beach house created a serene atmosphere, but Arthur's mind wouldn't rest.

His thoughts wandered back to the days he had buried deep within himself

A faint glow appeared on his hand, barely visible in the darkness. Arthur looked at it for a moment, the familiar light blue hue a reminder of what he once was. He clenched his fist, extinguishing the glow, and sighed deeply.

In the quiet of the night, with B sleeping peacefully beside him, Arthur whispered to himself, "No matter how far I run, or how hard I try, it always finds a way back."