Age is a Broken Promise

TW: Swearing, death, suicide, superheroes

Karl Cent relaxed in his plush chair surrounded by paintings. “Apex Lad, it’s a pleasure to be invited to the first public exhibition of your paintings. Can you tell me why you chose the title Age is a Broken Promise?” Knowing the camera had cut to the muscular hero, the presenter checked that his microphone was hidden properly by his collar.

“I thought that was the obvious bit. Please call me Alex or Apex. The Lad bit is too dated now. That’s the problem with my life. Time is moving on but I’m stuck as I’ve been since I hit puberty. Since my powers manifested I haven’t changed at all.” A smooth face still a teen to the eyes, framed eyes with the blue intensity of an old man.

Karl flashed his brilliantly white veneers. “Alex, many people envy your powers. Even other superheroes. You’ve defined more than one generation of that community.”

Alex stretched, showing taught muscles in his chest and arms. “That’s my point Karl. I’ve had my time. I’m tired of being static in a world that changes. I’m stuck.”

Cent laughed as if the superhuman calling himself trapped in any way was an amusing anecdote at a party. “Right. So you wish you aged like everyone else?” He smiled, showing the trademark dimple in his right cheek.

Alex frowned, giving the air of an impetuous teen. Karl had to remind himself that the ‘boy’ before him was his senior and more than capable of pulverizing a mountain. “Yes. It’s the classic vampire bullshit. I’m tired of watching the people I love die. My parents died in the 80s. My oldest brother Mark died in 2001. My younger brother Devlin died in 2021. I sat by his bedside. He was this shriveled old man. I could see the envy in his eyes. He died of pancreatic cancer. It’s agony. He kept joking that he wanted healing powers. He wasn’t joking though. Now he’s gone. He was the last person I felt who really knew me, without my powers.”

Karl nodded as if he understood perfectly when in reality he would have given anything to trade his life for that of the ungrateful immortal. Not needing to dye his gray hairs. Not feeling his balls slowly sag towards the toilet. Not worrying that the network was going to dump him for a younger model. “You’re tired of life?”

Alex rubbed his perfect hands across his perfect chin. “Most people worry about dying. I’m worried that I won’t. Tests show I’m aging at the rate of one day for every two years of real time that pass. I could live for thousands of years. I’ve tried ending it. Knives don’t cut me. I dropped out of a plane and hit the ground. I just left a crater. I drank enough cyanide to kill the rest of the human race, and I got a mild stomach ache.” He smiled bitterly. Even his teeth were flawless.

Karl smiled his ‘let’s move on now’ smile and waved a manicured hand to the paintings around them. “Back to your paintings. They imagine versions of you that are at later stages of your life?” One of the cameras panned around the room, keeping them in shot the whole time.

Alex nodded. “Exactly. The first has me with a proper beard instead of the fuzzy fluff shit I’ve been getting for the last seventy years.”

So ungrateful. You’re the most powerful man in the world. “But otherwise, not so different from the Apex Lad we all know and love.”

Apex Lad rolled his eyes and nodded with a sardonic teen smile as if no one really got it. “Yeah, I wasn’t exactly stretching my imagination. This was my first painting. I’ve gone back to do more work on it since then but really this is from 1987. My next one imagines me hitting the body age of 30. I’ve got a beard but it’s trimmed.”

Seriously? “And jowls. Not exactly something most men look forward to. Take my word for it.” I’ve had three surgeries to keep mine at bay. Karl laughed his business laugh.

Alex Apex stood and pointed out the details. “Right. And a broader chin. That’s from 1994.”

Throw him a compliment. “I have to say Apex, sorry, Alex. I wasn’t quite expecting the mastery of the brush you have. These are amazing.” Kiss ass until his fans can taste it. I need more viewers.

Alex shrugged. “I’ve got a lot of time to practice. A lifetime of work for some is a little hobby for me.” Each movement showed a physique body builders worked their whole lives for.

Abs like fucking paving slabs. “I should warn people before the camera pans to the next painting that the subject matter is- I’m not even sure what to say. Grim?”

Alex nodded and looked at the red carpet. “It’s from a dark time in my life.”

Yeah it must suck never being injured. “Painting yourself lying in a bath of blood. Yeah. Can’t imagine you were happy at the time.”

Alex bit his nails. “I had been trying to end it for a year in 96. I pictured myself being about thirty five. Feelings like mine usually take their toll on the body. That’s why I look gaunt in the painting. The bags under the eyes. My first gray hairs.”

You want those? Chump. “And the blood and you being dead. Have you imposed an age restriction on the exhibition?”

Alex nodded. “I haven’t but the gallery insisted that anyone entering has to be 18 or older.”

Karl smiled. “I think most people would have assumed they’d be witnessing nudes after that kind of restriction.” Your groupies are going to be sadly disappointed.

Apex Lad shrugged. “I’m not interested in that kind of thing. Nudity for me, and sex, they’re an escape.”

“Can we talk about that?” Sleeping with the most beautiful women in the world is a hell of an escape. “This next painting fits that segway quite well. This model is Felicia Faraday is it not? You were together for a while before her accident.” She was hot.

Alex folded his arms, muscles bulging again. “She was blown up by Steven Stormknight. You don’t have to tiptoe around it. Yeah she was the closest I’ve had to a long term relationship. She aged slowly, like me. She was tough. We were good together.” A vein tensed in his forehead, a ripple in calm waters before disappearing again.

“Of course you got your revenge on Stormknight. He-”

Alex interrupted Karl and raised his hand to stop the presenter in his tracks. “I’d rather not talk about that. Emotions clouded my judgment that day. I was lucky that the jury were lenient. My point is, and I want to stay on track with this, is that Felicia was a rock for me. Without her I don’t know what to hold on to.”

Don’t get punched by the strongest man in the world. No surgeon could fix that. “When was this painted?”

“This was 1999. I’d been dating Felicia for three years.”

“Did she know about your depression?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. Being with her brought me out of it. She was incredible. I finally had someone who understood me. She was watching her family burn out like candles as well.”

Are you quoting fucking Elton John? “The painting isn’t the most flattering portrait of her, given your clear adoration.”

Alex shook his head, fringe flickering like the slow motion introduction of the love interest in a romcom. “It wasn’t about showing her as less beautiful. I told her she would always be beautiful to me. It was about imagining us getting old together. We’d be about forty in this. Some white hairs. Some lines. Some wrinkles and veins are starting to show. It wasn’t painted so I could demean her. It was to show her that I wanted us to be together. Forever.”

Creepy. “The next one seems to follow on directly. You are at a grave. But not you. The subject is disheveled and twisted. The details in every wrinkle are incredible. How did you capture the light in the rain? The veins in the eyes? It’s the largest of the paintings so far. How long were you painting this for?” Looks like you ripped off the end of Tobey Maguire’s Spiderman.

Alex turned his blue eyes to the painting. “About four years. I put a lot of my grief for Felicia into this. It was therapeutic. The flowers are modeled on the bouquet I placed on her grave. I still visit on her birthday.”

Karl nodded, putting on his best show of commiseration. “This one, you titled Happy Day, is you and an imagined family. Hypothetical children with Felicia.”

“Yeah. If we’d been normal.”

“So you’re supposed to be about 60 in this painting and the kids are in their 40s? You painted this in 2002.” Karl checked the time. If he overran with the interview his makeup would start to run. Unlike the timeless golden boy, he needed work to look that good.

Apex Lad’s gaze was glued to the painting. “Yes to both. After Mark died I took some time out from work. I was worried I would do something reckless. I put it all into the painting. Some family visited me. I saw Mark’s kids at the funeral. I really rammed home what I was missing out on not being able to have kids.”

Boo fucking hoo. “Do you need a tissue Alex?” Look sincere. Showbiz smile but you’re sad for him.

“No. My sleeve will do fine.”

Gross. Karl nodded as if that was natural. “Then I’ll move on to the last triptych of paintings which others have compared to the final photographs of your father.” Karl’s eyes caught on the shimmering trail of snot on the superheros sleeve. He fought down the disgust.

Alex nodded. “It’s another thing I envy about people aging. They get to look at their family and see different bits of themselves in the similarities. Depending on how old they are they look more like their mom or their pop.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell people watching the show?”

“No. That’s it. Come and take a look at what my life could have been.”

Karl turned his whole body to the camera. He stood and walked as the cameraman zoomed out. He spread his arms and gave his biggest smile again. “That’s Age is a Broken Promise, by Apex Lad at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Get your tickets before they sell out.” He winked.