by Nick Svolos
“Understood. Should I go?”
“That won’t be necessary. How is our young charge?”
Herculene sat down in a nearby chair. “Not good. I’ve been working with her all day, but she’s just too freaked out to make any progress. Actually, that’s why I came up here. Was wondering if I could borrow this guy for a little bit.” She gave me a playful poke to the shoulder.
“I think we are done here, for now. I have some contacts I need to follow up with.” He turned his head up. “Archangel, please lock these files. Restrict access to myself, Suave, and Captain Stand-In.”
“Done,” the AI responded.
“Thank you.” He turned to the rest of us. “Alright, you guys. I know you are itching to get to the bottom of this, but you must sit tight for the time being. Hopefully, I will have a better picture of what is going on tomorrow. Captain, will your alter-ego be reporting on any of this?”
“We’re working on a background piece on Backdraft. We know where he came from, but there’s a pretty big gap between his childhood in Tucson and his arrival here. There might be a story there, so I’d like to fill that in. Don’t worry. Anything about the FBI is off-limits unless I find out about it from another source.”
“Very well. I suppose that is the best I can hope for. He is all yours, Herculene.”
***
Herculene led me to the elevator and hit the button for the training center. “She’s a mess, Reuben,” she began.
“She” was Patty Blackburn, a fifteen year old from Meridian, Idaho. A happy, well-adjusted teen until a few days ago when her body became intangible and she fell through the floor of her second-story bedroom. The poor kid landed, naked and terrified, downstairs on her living room floor. Herculene learned of the incident, grabbed the AngelJet and flew out there to offer our assistance. There wasn’t much she could do to help the budding superhuman in the field, so she brought her and her mother here to the Tower where we could keep her from hurting herself. Unfortunately, it was starting to look like we didn’t know how to do much more than that.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
“She’s not eating. Poor thing hasn’t slept a wink since she got here. Every time I shut down the containment field, she panics. Goes intangible, and I have to turn it back on before she slips through the floor.” Herculene stared daggers at the elevator buttons, like they might hold some answers. “I don’t think I’m getting through to her,” she said at last. “I’m hoping you might have better luck.”
“Me? I’m not so sure. I mean, the last time I dealt with a teenage girl, I was a teenage boy. As I recall, the results were mixed, at best.”
She grinned, but there was no mirth in her smile. “Just try, okay? You have a knack for talking people down from the ledge. At this point, I think you’re my best chance.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound confident. The truth was, I wasn’t. We were all scared for this girl. Ghosts are rare, or to be more precise, as far as we know they’re rare. While they can become intangible and do amazing things like walk through walls, they can’t ignore gravity. When their ability manifests, they either figure out how to turn it off quickly, or they sink into the earth at nine point five meters per second squared, never to be seen again.
As a stop-gap measure, the Tower staff had rigged up some containment gear in the training room and the quarters the Blackburns shared. Patty had to wear a set of bulky and uncomfortable nullifier manacles when she moved anywhere else. The kid was a prisoner, and the only way to free her was to teach her how to control her new abilities, something we weren’t having a lot of luck with.
It was starting to look like the first student of the Jorgensen Institute might break our hearts.
Herculene and I stepped into the orange light that permeated the twenty-third floor, the team’s training facility. Right away, I felt heavier. Weaker. The bruises and still-healing damage from my tangles with Mechanista and Backdraft woke up, stretched, and called for room service. Once again, I was amazed at how Ultiman’s powers hid these nagging wounds and discomforts from me.
Patty was an emotional wreck. It made my chest ache just to look at her. The kid sat on a platform raised about eight feet off the floor, her legs hanging listless over the edge. She fiddled with her phone for a second or two before she drifted off, lost focus, and set it down. A few seconds later, she picked it up and repeated the process.
Patty wasn’t the only terrified woman in the room. The concern in her mother’s eyes hit me with another shot to the gut. It had to be a special kind of hell to have your kid go through something like this and not have a clue how to help her. Florence Blackburn’s expression reflected that hell.
“Patty,” Herculene said as we climbed up onto the platform, her voice cheerful despite the scene confronting us. “One of my friends wants to meet you. This is Captain Stand-In.”
With visible effort, the girl shook off her funk, forced a smile, and got to her feet. She walked over and stuck out her hand.
“I’m a big fan, sir.”
“Gee, thanks. Pleased to meet you.” I felt embarrassed and proud, all at the same time. I wasn’t aware I had any fans.
Despite her sunken eyes and an air of being on the verge of a panic attack, Patty’s manner struck me as equal measures well-raised kid and most popular girl in school. The kind of girl who knew how to keep up appearances, no matter how much she hurt inside. Midwest nice in a hoodie. I couldn’t help but take a liking to her.
Herculene led Florence away under the pretext of making a coffee run to give us some space. We took seats on the platform and let the silence surround us for a bit. Sometimes, silence could be good. People felt an urge to fill the silence with words. Often words they didn’t intend to say. Sometimes, the best thing you could say was nothing.
This wasn’t one of those times. The kid was shut down, and silence wasn’t going to help her open up.
“So, I hear you’re having a rough week,” I ventured. I spoke to her like I was speaking to another adult—curious and engaged. When I was a teenager, one of the things I hated most was when an adult treated me like one. I figured the last thing she wanted was to be treated like a kid.
She parted with a dismissive little puff of air. “Yeah.”
One word and a pfft. That’s a start.
“So, look, don’t feel like you have to talk or anything if you don’t want to. Herculene just thought maybe it would help if I shared my story with you. Does that sound okay?”
She nodded, her eyes never leaving her phone.
“About eight months ago, The Angels went on a mission to North Korea and got arrested. Do you remember that?”
“Yes, sir. Some mystery guy broke them out of prison, right?”
“Yeah. Wanna hear the rest of the story? The part that didn’t make the papers?”
Her eyes lit up, just a little. “Sure.”
“That was me.”
“No way!” That got her interest. She set her phone down. “The news said it was some Korean guy.”
“Yup. And as far as the world knows, that’s who it was. This is just between you and me. You cool with that?”
She nodded, almost looking eager.
“Alright. When the team got captured, a friend and I came up with a plan to rescue them. We stole something from Dr. Schadenfreude that can give you powers. I had a way into the country, and he had a way to smuggle the device in, so we decided to take the shot.”
“Wait,” she interrupted. “You didn’t have powers?”
“No, I was just a normal guy.”
“So, you went to North Korea to rescue The Angels, and you didn’t have anything?”
“Sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”
“Well, I don’t want to sound rude….”
“Don’t sweat it. I thought it was stupid, too, but we were out of options.” She nodded, and I plodded onward. “Long story short, I ended up in a prison cell under Glorious Leader’s palace. Fortunately, my partner kne
w what was going to happen, and that’s where I found the device. I used it, and that’s how I got my powers.”
She raised an eyebrow, probably wondering if I was putting her on. At least she was engaged in the conversation. “You’ve only had your powers for eight months?”
“That’s right. So, there I was, in a dungeon, suddenly superhuman, and I had maybe an hour to figure out how everything worked before the guards came in.”
“How’d you do it?”
“It wasn’t pretty. The strength I got the hang of pretty quick. We all do that every day, right? You pick up a baby, you’re gentle. You shake hands with someone, don’t grip too hard. We’re wired to handle that, and the adjustment isn’t all that difficult. But the flying? That was a nightmare. And, I knew I’d need to fly if I was gonna pull this off. One does not simply walk out of North Korea. I smashed against the ceiling, the walls, the bars. Everything I tried just made things worse.”
“Because it’s not something we’re wired for?”
“Yeah. Birds have an instinct for flying. We don’t.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I got lucky. There was a reporter in the cellblock who used to cover Stratoblaster. He gave me a couple of pointers. For flying, it’s about focus. I look at where I want to go, and my body just follows. But he told me it’s not really about my eyes, but my mind. If I practiced enough, I could do it blindfolded.”
“And it worked?”
“Mostly. I’m working on the technique. I still can’t hover without crossing my eyes.”
She laughed at the thought. It was a beautiful thing to hear.
“Anyway, the point of all this is that we’re rational animals. When we suddenly find our bodies doing things we don’t have an instinct for, we have to train our minds to control it. Does that make sense?”
The laughter faded away, and it didn’t take any special training to see the tears welling up. “Yeah, but it’s not working for me. I keep trying.”
“I know. When the team heard about your situation, we called Greyshade. Ever heard of him?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“He’s got powers like yours. He’s with Noblesse Oblige.”
“Oh! That’s the superteam in the EU, right?”
I smiled. “That’s right. He says your ability only kicks in when you think about it. So, the trick is to not think about it.”
“But it’s all I can think about!” Now she was crying. I was losing her again.
I put a little bit of authority into my voice. “Quick. Tell me about Idaho.”
“What?” she sobbed.
“Idaho. I’ve never been there. What’s it like?”
“I don’t know,” she managed to blubber. “It’s nice, I guess. A lot greener than here.”
“Do you live in town?”
She wiped some tears from her cheeks. “No, we have a small farm. Fourteen acres.”
“I’ll bet it’s nice. Any animals?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Some goats and chickens. Dad’s letting me raise a calf for a school project.”
“Wow. That sounds cool. What’s its name?”
She grinned. The tears were gone. “Delilah, but that’s a secret. Dad says you shouldn’t name an animal you’re going to eat.”
“Guess what, Patty.”
“What?”
“You just did it.”
“Did what?”
“You stopped thinking about it.”
“About wha—” Her eyes shot wide. “Oh!”
“Pretty cool, huh?”
“That’s all there is to it?”
“Well, that, and a lot of practice.”
“So, what, I just think happy thoughts?”
I shrugged. “Worked for Peter Pan.”
She giggled. “That’s so silly.”
“I still think my eye-crossing is sillier.” That got another bout of laughter out of her. “Look, it won’t be easy. It’s gonna take a lot of hard work, but we’re not giving up on you. You start small and work your way up, like with anything else.”
“But there’s something else. I don’t wanna be a superhero, sir.” She gave me a steady look. I liked the confidence and purpose I saw behind those eyes. “I have other plans.”
“Cool.” I smiled, all the while silently repeating “Don’t say actress” over and over in my head. “What do you wanna do?”
“I got the grades for medical school. I’d like to be a pediatrician. You see, I wouldn’t have time for this stuff.”
“Hey, we didn’t bring you here to recruit you. This is all about you learning how to control your abilities. Once you’re in control, what you do with them is up to you. Not everyone who has powers flies around in long underwear, you know.”
“I suppose.” She sounded unconvinced.
“I’m serious. As long as you don’t turn evil or hurt yourself, we’re happy.”
“I hear laughter,” Herculene said as she and Florence returned with coffee and sandwiches. “You’re not telling her any of SpeedDamon’s corny jokes, are you?”
“Naw, that’d be cruel. I just told her about how I learned to hover.” I crossed my eyes and wagged my eyebrows.
Patty burst into laughter again, and her mom smiled, hope in her eyes.
Eventually, the kid yawned. “I think it’s time for bed. Can we give it another try tomorrow, Herculene?”
She sounded eager and it made me smile. That was good enough for me.
VII
“Well, wherever this guy went, he covered his tracks well,” Ratna observed.
She was waiting for me as I arrived at my cube. She even had her evidence laid out on my little desk. I admired her eagerness, even though I had been hoping for a little free time to set up my laptop and ease into the day.
“No run-ins with the cops,” she continued. “Typical screw-ups in high school, but nothing I’d call malicious. Pranks, mostly. Nothing to do with fire. Just looks like a typical kid. And then, at fifteen, he just disappeared. His folks filed a missing-person case, got his face on milk cartons, the whole deal, but he was never found. After that, nothing. It’s like David Winters just stopped existing.”
I set my messenger bag aside and reviewed her documentation of Backdraft’s history. When she’d told me she wanted to take a crack at running this story down, I’d given her twenty-four hours to see what she could do. It turned out she could do a lot.
“This is good work,” I told her.
“Thanks, boss, but it doesn’t get us any closer to his missing years,” she grumbled in frustration.
“True,” I said as I started setting up my ancient laptop. “And what does that tell you?”
“Other than life’s gotta have an odd sense of humor to give fire powers to a kid named ‘Winters’?”
I chuckled. “Yeah. What’s the first thing you said to me when I got here?”
“Uh, he’s good at covering his tracks?”
“Bingo. He disappeared at the age of fifteen, right? How many fifteen-year-old boys have you met that could pull off something like that?”
She thought about that for a bit and smiled. “Yeah, they ain’t exactly subtle, are they?”
“I sure as hell wasn’t.”
“So … what you’re saying is, he had help.”
“No, your data’s saying that. I’m just asking the question.”
“Okay.” She paced around a little, repeating “Okay” a few more times while her mind worked. “So, who helps a teenage superhuman get off the grid? Another super, maybe? Is that what they do?”
“Different guys have different ways of doing things. The protégé angle fits, though. Were there any supers active in Tucson around that time?”
“I was about to ask you that.”
“Let’s find out.”
“I’m on it.” She started back to her cube but stopped short and turned back to me. “One more thing that’s buggin’ me.”
“What’s that?”
&nbs
p; “Why’d he pick LA? I mean, this is the last place I’d want to try pulling off a string of superheists. Besides The Angels, you got Panhandler, Golden Crusader, and Peacemaker, and those are just the ones I know of. Seems like pretty long odds for getting away with anything around here. Think this guy’s some kind of thrillseeker?”
I let that rattle around a bit. It was an interesting angle. “You said he pulled some pranks in school. What kind?”
She went back over her notes. “Hmmm. Practical jokes, mostly. Thumbtacks on teacher’s chairs. Shaking up a classmate’s soda can. You think that’s it?”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t scream out at me. Sounds more like a smartass kid pulling stuff to see if he can get away with it. I was thinking of skateboard stunts on school property, showing off, stuff like that. Did he play any sports?”
“Nope. I didn't see any extracurricular activities in what I pulled up. Worked at his dad’s stationary shop after school. He sounds like a good kid. It doesn’t add up.”
“Sure it does. He was a good kid, got powers, someone got him off the grid, and when he came back, he was bad.”
“Well,” she said, considering this for a moment, “do supervillains ever take on sidekicks?”
I chuckled at the thought. “Naw, they usually have enough problems.”
“Alright, I guess you’re right. Even if they did, we’d have heard of this guy before now. Twenty-five years is a long time to wait to cash in on someone.”
“Exactly. Anything else?”
“How much time do I have? I know we’re on deadline here.”
“I’ll give you until lunch. After that, I’ll have to get back on the case.”
“Four hours,” she said, checking the time. “I’m on it.” And she was gone.
That was the deal. Since she’d done the story on Backdraft’s capture, Harry and I agreed to let her do the background piece, as long as she could get it done today. My job was to mentor her, and if necessary, step in to make sure we made tomorrow’s run. After seeing what she’d come up with so far, I liked her odds of scoring her first solo byline.