American Hero - George R. R. Martin Page 0,9

windows. Fire couldn’t harm the indestructible Stuntman, who went into the burning building again and again to save victims—including an automated baby. The Clubs rescued all ten victims and proved that they’re real heroes.

The Spades and Diamonds almost had it, each rescuing more than half the victims. Highlights included the Maharajah using his power to telekinetically manipulate fireproof firefighter’s coats, marching them into the building and pulling victims to safety. Blrr proved fast enough to avoid being burned when she speed-skated—hauling herself up the front steps by the railing—into the flames to save the baby. Rustbelt withstood the fire long enough to rescue a pair of victims before his iron skin grew too hot. Not everyone was successful—Simoon’s whirlwind power only fanned the flames and cut short her team’s rescue efforts.

But Team Hearts really didn’t have it, giving an underwhelming performance that had the judges ranting and would have left seven victims dead. The Hearts seemed more interested in arguing with each other over the fire hose than in rescuing people from the flames. The only highlight at all from their performance came from construction worker Hardhat, who was able to create I-beam ladders to several windows, making him responsible for the team’s only three rescues. His frustration at the rest of his team’s failure was evident in his long strings of censored curses.

The teams gathered on the American Hero stage for judgment. We saw the contestants in action for the first time, and now they faced their judges. Topper did her best to be encouraging, and the Harlem Hammer also seemed sympathetic. Aces themselves, they understand better than anyone what these contestants face in trying to prove themselves and their powers. But Digger Downs felt no need to wear kid gloves when handing out his judgment. He scorched worse than any burning building—as the members of the Hearts especially discovered. If the contestants didn’t know it before, it became clear to everyone that this competition isn’t a game. Proving themselves worthy of being the American Hero is serious business.

For rescuing all ten victims, Team Clubs won immunity this week. The other three teams were sent back to their headquarters in disgrace and required to vote off one of their teammates. The voting is anonymous and uses, appropriately, specially made playing cards. The first round of Discards were: Joe Twitch, King Cobalt, and Jonathan Hive (who will no doubt have a few words to say about this on his blog).

Personalities clash, teams triumph and fail, alliances form, and scheming begins. What will next week hold for our aces?

Keep on the lookout for this week’s confessions:

the Maharajah, Rustbelt, Toad Man, and Wild Fox!

Confessional: Raj Chaturvedi aka the Maharajah

And so we enter the secret depths of the confessional, even though we’re nominally Hindu . . .

Hey, America. I’m the Maharajah. Or you can call me Raj. That’s what all my friends call me back in Seattle. It’s also my name. Here, see the driver’s license? Raj Chaturvedi, Washington. Height’s wrong—I’m hardly 6'2" since I lost my legs—and I assume they’ll fuzz the address out in post, but that’s me. Pre-accident me, but still me.

And I should probably introduce my servants, or at least a couple of them. This is Jeeves, my butler. Bow, Jeeves. To the camera, I mean. And this is my cook, Hazel. Hazel, hand me my mai tai, then give America your prettiest curtsy. There, perfect. I know they’re a little empty-headed—it goes with being empty suits and dresses—but it’s hard to get good help these days.

Actually, it’s pretty easy. If you’re me. We just picked up Hazel from wardrobe. It’s amazing what they’ve got there.

And like I said, this is my first confessional. Team Diamonds finally pried Tiffani out of the booth so I could make one, and I thought maybe I’d do something different. I’m going to respond to a couple letters we just got on the website. So here we go, American Hero Mailbag, take one. Jeeves, hand me the first letter? Thank you . . .

Dear Maharajah,

I liked watching you at the San Francisco tryouts. It was really cool seeing you come in with all your servants waving fans while you sat on that platform thing with the invisible elephant underneath. What’s it called? Also, why are you in the dumb wheelchair now? It looks lame.

—Bobby, age 10, Pittsburgh

Okay, Bobby, first off, as they taught me in physical therapy, it’s not “lame,” it’s “differently abled.” Though of course that’s wrong. Being a triple-amputee is sort