Not a hero material

 

We're all here: we have to find our place in this world. Michael Jon Carter really wasn't hero material, but he was smart and he took a chance. Michael was nothing in his world, but he had a huge advantage over any creature of our time: he was from the 25th century. 

He was a guy of average intelligence, pretty good at sports, pretty good looking. In Gotham City, Michael had been in some trouble with the law. It wasn't anything too serious or clever: he had been betting money on the soccer games he attended. He had done this to try to save his mother who was sick. The care was too expensive, he had tried to find a solution. It had failed.

The game was a damnation in the Carter household. His father had already left home when Michael and his twin sister were four. He had left Carter's mother with big debts and worries, and she had been finished off by her son's departure for prison.

When he got out, Michael could only find a job as a museum guard at the Metropolis Space Museum. There he had seen relics of 20th century superheroes, old legends for his time. He couldn't wait to show the world that he was better than a lowly crook working the night shift at the museum. He really needed to get out of this, so he had the rather bold idea of stealing some superhero equipment, taking the little robot Skeets and using Rip Hunter's time travel machine. He thought he was going to the 20th century at the right time to make some good moves and become a hero. 

He knew from the Skeets robot that an assassination attempt was going to be made on the president of the United States. He wanted to be Goldstar, a new superhero, who would draw the admiration of the madding crowds in the 20th century. You couldn't blame him. He wanted to escape a despicable condition in his century. After all, when you are not born lucky, you sometimes try your luck by moving abroad. He had tried his luck by changing times, that deserved respect. 

At the beginning, it had been rather successful. He had been acclaimed, the media had seized on his case. He had been misunderstood. Instead of being known as Goldstar, he could only get... Booster Gold. It wasn't too bad, he had hired an agent, Dirk Davis, and opened Goldstar, Inc. in Metropolis with a secretary to try to reap the benefits of his media success. 

Oh, he looked good, our Booster Gold! His equipment was futuristic for our time. Accompanied by Skeets, his robot, he just had to be in the right place at the right time. With his flight ring, high-tech suit, visual and auditory enhancer, infrared vision and ray-shooting gloves, he was a believable superhero. 

But things went wrong when he was confronted with the real villains, like Doomsday, the scumbag who killed Superman. Michael Jon Carter almost lost his life when he came into contact with those bastards. His costume was destroyed, he even lost his right hand. They made him a new suit, a cybernetic arm to replace his hand, but Michael realized that he had to stop. 

He thought about it, very carefully for once. He told himself that he had done all this effort to get rich, to change his life. He hadn't come to lose himself in this caveman era to die wearing a suit molded to his buttocks. If fame meant dealing with scary psychopaths, world destroyers and getting killed, he had better things to do. Besides, his robot, Skeets, was starting to screw up. It was giving wrong predictions. So he had to get his marbles out of there fast. Michael Jon Carter closed his company, fired his agent and his secretary. He kept a low profile for a while, until he was forgotten.

And then, quietly, he robbed all the gems, kilos of gold and precious metal in the safes he could. With his teleportation system and his gadgets, he could work discreetly, without violence, all around the planet. In one week, he accumulated a maximum of treasures that he transported to the 25th century. He quietly converted his treasures into a considerable fortune and comfortably installed his sister, whom he loved very much. She and he are now living a well-deserved life of annuities in the 25th century. From what he tells me, humanity is very small. There's plenty of room. In short, it suits him better.

Michael Jon Carter has done me the honor of becoming my friend, and he regularly sends me messages from the future warning me of some unfortunate event that is happening now. I don't listen. I have always hated being told the end of a movie.