Superhero Pastiche

The Origin Story Of Kansas Man

Cyrus Schmidt becomes the one and only Kansas Man!

Kansas – Public Domain

In late 1996, Zeus, the king of Mount Olympus, came to the great state of Kansas to woo the Kaw River. One could only guess what he told his poor wife as he carried out an affair with the American river goddess, but sure enough, nine months later, a baby washed ashore at the favorite fishing spot of Mrs. Marion Schmidt.

Marion, a local schoolteacher, could tell at once that this was no ordinary baby but something quite supernatural and decided to raise the little guy herself. Thinking for a moment, she named the baby Cyrus after the Persian emperor who came close to conquering the world.

Cyrus Schmidt almost immediately showed the powers one might have guessed from his divine parentage. By the age of nine, he could bench press 360 pounds and read Shakespeare fluently. A child like that might grow up to be a bully or even a tech bro, but Marion made sure that he grew up with an understanding that things like that didn’t make him better than everyone else.

“Cyrus, remember, many folks around here got skills and talents. Mr. Masterson is an award-winning poet, but he’s still gotta work at the dollar store to feed his kids, and Mrs. Clifford won ten different beauty pageants back in the ‘70s before she married and got all them dogs.”

The young man took it all to heart and grew up to be the epitome of a hardworking young Kansan. He worked hard in the fields as a cowhand and took classes in history and political science by correspondence, but a nagging feeling kept haunting him.

Hardworking people still struggled all around him, tornadoes still ravaged small towns, oil prices still went up, and the other young people left the county as jobs were scarce and pay was low.

One morning, without telling anyone, Cyrus loaded up his pickup and decided to drive to Topeka. There in the capital, he might be able to actually do something for the Kansas he loved. He knew it was idealistic and vague, but he had to try. If he didn’t try, he couldn’t look his mother in the eye.

On the highway, he caught the scent of the change in the air. It smelled of electric discharge and the bloodlust of a predator. Something big and angry was coming like a supernatural pit bull. Cyrus was alert now. His eyes searched out movement, and his limbs prepared for quick, explosive action. Soon, he could hear the storm itself approach.

Cyrus pulled over and looked up into the black sky. There it was, a tornado, probably F5, no doubt a monster. The kind of monster that Ancient Greek heroes would slay to save the girl and fulfill their destiny. Cyrus Schmidt had no way to know he was himself a Greek hero, but instinct took over. He would do battle with this beast of the prairie.

The tornado roared as it spun in ever wider circles. It spun with the force of a thousand engines. Its mouth salivated rainwater, and its eyes glowed with thunder. This beast craved destruction and blood. Homes, cattle, pets: these things it hungered for and these things it would feast upon if not stopped right here.

The big man walked straight into the tornado’s path, reached out his arms, and grabbed it. He visualized all those kung fu tutorials from the Internet and did what came naturally: he wrestled that tornado to the ground. The forces involved in such an illogical clash were immense. No man-made armor could have withstood it, but Cyrus wasn’t made by man.

As he held the monster in place, it thrashed wildly. Arms of wind tried to rip and tear, only to find Cyrus’s skin as hard as rock. Finally, it tired: its energy had expended in the clash, so it dissipated as soft, humid air. Then the hero stood and slowly walked back to his truck without so much as fully understanding what he had done.

Topeka had work for Cyrus Schmidt indeed; within 24 hours, he had become Kansas Man: the official superhero of the sunflower state. His mandate was to be the hero that the Great Plains needed and that the government could take credit for.

Kansas Man wasn’t the first superhero in the state. That honor went to The Guard. Tyshawn Bowen had spent four years at K-State as an offensive guard on the football team while studying mechanical engineering before turning traitor and spending four years at KU as a point guard on the basketball team while studying law. This guy was so amazing a sportsman that they changed the rules specifically to give him continued eligibility.

These days, he was a high-paid private eye decked out in bulletproof Italian leather and driving a custom weaponized street racing car. No one escaped from him, and no one got past him. Tyshawn was a living legend, and even Cyrus had heard the stories that made him excited when The Guard reached out for his help.

“The Quantrill Seven stole a cache of prototype weapons and body armor from Lockheed Martin. They want to relitigate the civil war on their terms, but my terms are that I get to block those plans. You in?”

Cyrus took Tyshawn’s hand.

“For Kansas, I will fight anyone, no matter how well armed.”

The bushwhackers appeared at sunset. Their high-tech suits of armor were painted MU gold, and their laser guns were painted MU black. However, unlike a disciplined college football team, they attacked wildly: lasers fired willy nilly, striking parked cars and local businesses as they charged at the capital building.

The police panicked and ran after the first laser hit, but The Guard stood firm. Even lasers reflected off his highly polished racing car, and like the professional he was, he waited until the gun batteries died and they had become useless toys.

In a matter of milliseconds, Cyrus was out of the vehicle, his huge arms out front in a karate stance, and his legs propelling him into the gang with the speed of a well-oiled motorcycle. They braced for impact, trusting in those laser-cut ceramic suits of armor. They should have known better.

Cyrus clotheslined the two in front, shattering armor like glass, before unleashing a barrage of punches with the same strength he’d used on the tornado. Much like the confederacy itself, they landed flat on their backs beat to hell.

Sweaty, he turned to smile at Tyshawn but found himself staring down both barrels of The Guard’s shotgun. The thermite slugs could melt steel on impact. A million thoughts went through his head: had this been a test or a trap? After seeing the full power of Kansas Man, did The Guard perhaps see Cyrus as the bigger threat?

Finally, the other hero spoke:

“You gonna move or protect the trash?”

Cyrus stiffened. He had held back to ensure that there would be no loss of life. He didn’t think it was their decision who lived and who died.

“Justice is handing them to the police.”

The Guard remained firm. His reflexes were the peak of human dexterity; even if Cyrus attacked, he might still take sixty percent of the blast right to his chest.

“And if they escape?”

Cyrus smiled genuinely: “Kansas Man will be waiting.”

The Guard reholstered the gun. His face was unreadable, but his voice carried implication enough.

“If you accept the work, you gotta do the work, Kansas Man.”

With that, the heroes parted ways: one driving back to Lawrence, the other awaiting the return of the frightened policemen. Cyrus understood the temptation, but what was he if he abandoned the laws of the state he vowed to serve?

News of this fight reached certain boardrooms in certain skyscrapers around Wichita. Men who had dominated the state’s commerce and, through it worked their ideological muscles in the people’s hearts found this strongman worrisome.

If a man without fear who couldn’t be bullied into attending the right churches and taking the right jobs in hopes of their benefaction became the face of their state, it would be troublesome to say the least. Perhaps it was time to seriously take into consideration killing this Kansas Man.

Messages were passed back and forth throughout the state until one landed in the ear of Wyatt Earp VII, a ‘lawman’ for hire. The sharpshooter glanced at his six-gun and snickered to himself.

“Kill a superhero? That’s mighty new to me. Sounds like a fitting challenge. Point out this Kansas Man.”

A previous superhero I created was Lady Rotwang, and maybe there will be a crossover in the future.

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