Hopefuls (Book 1): The Private Life of Jane Maxwell

by Jenn Gott

  Jane took a deep breath. One step at a time, she told herself. It’s the mantra that she’d been living by for more than a year now, ever since she’d made the decision to . . . retire.

  One step at a time. There were so few left anymore:

  Capture Doctor Demolition . . .

  Extract the name . . .

  And then . . .

  Jane smiled. And then she could disappear.

  Now . . .

  Jane didn’t remember passing out, but the sharp tang of anesthetic brought her back to herself.

  She jerked awake.

  An all-powerful light filled her vision, washing everything the purest white. Jane blinked, letting her powers clear the sight before her. Shapes resolved themselves from the mist: concentric circles, one much larger than the other, like a wide-brimmed hat, or a stretched-open eye pinning Jane in place. A few more blinks, and the center turned into an egg, bulbous underneath a tented background.

  No, not just bulbous—an actual bulb. So bright that it almost hurt, and trapped in a wide fixture which swayed just the smallest bit over Jane’s head.

  Panic sent her scrambling, but straps held her in place. Jane looked down. She was lashed to a . . . table? Bench? One of those tilted slabs, like a pushcart for people, that movies use to indicate the situation was about to get Serious.

  Jane gulped, her mouth suddenly dry.

  The rest of the room wasn’t any more inspiring: it was the same place where they’d found Allison, apparently, because there she was, pinned beneath her own lamp, still unconscious and tied to a chair some distance away. Tables separated them, an assortment of nasty-looking instruments strewn across the surface.

  Heavy footsteps sounded behind her. Cal came around. He’d changed out of his uniform, put on black jeans and a navy v-neck t-shirt that clung to his chest and biceps. He gave Jane a sympathetic look as he unclipped a walkie from his back pocket and raised it to his face. He pressed the button. “She’s awake.”

  A subtle click preceded Jane’s own voice coming through from somewhere else. “Excellent. I’ll be right there.”

  “Cal,” Jane said. She did not even try to keep the fear and pleading out of her voice. “Don’t do this. Let me out.”

  Cal smirked as he clipped the walkie back into place. “Can’t do that, Main Jane.”

  Jane winced at the use of her nickname. “Don’t you dare call me that. Not if you’re going to betray everything we ever had together.”

  “Ah, but that’s the thing.” Cal motioned between them. “We never had anything, did we? It was always Amy this, and Amy that. What?” he added, scoffing, “You think I didn’t notice?”

  “So because I wouldn’t sleep with you, you’re going to throw my life away?”

  Cal rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. You never noticed me. Not in the way I wanted you to, no, but not any other way either. Admit it: I was always just taking up space with you.”

  “That’s not true,” Jane said. “I trusted you. I liked you. You trained me! We . . . God, Cal, we were friends. We’ve always been friends.”

  “The real Jane, yes.” Cal smiled. “And more. So don’t think for a minute that you have the power to come between us.”

  A laugh drifted in from the shadows. “Loyal, isn’t he?” UltraViolet said, as she stepped forward. Her image was solid and whole, Jane’s own face painted up with those purple lips and smoky eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, teased and curled so that it floated behind her.

  Jane’s stomach writhed. Given the options, she decided she preferred not being able to see what UltraViolet looked like. Jane said nothing as UltraViolet, in her skintight purple catsuit and stiletto heels, marched over and looped her arms around Cal’s hips. Cal’s arm was instantly around her, and he buried her face in an overly dramatic kiss. Jane nearly vomited in her mouth, just watching.

  UltraViolet pulled away, raising her hands and shooing him back with her fingers. “Find something useful to do,” she said, and to Jane’s surprise, Cal turned and moved out of sight.

  UltraViolet shook herself off, a tiny sneer crossing her face and then smoothing itself out. “Now”—she turned her attention to Jane, grinning—“shall we begin?”

  Jane couldn’t help it—she glanced nervously at the equipment spread around her. She had an unpleasant sensation of being in a dentist’s office or a surgeon’s operating room, pinned underneath the light. She felt ridiculous, suddenly, dressed up like a hero. Allison’s words from their first dinner together came back to her, how she’d called the Heroes a bunch of trick-or-treaters. Jane never should have taken insult to it: it was true. She’d been prancing around the city pretending to do good, but really she was nothing more than a child playacting at being strong and brave.

  And now she was going to die.

  The idea struck her hard and fast, stealing her breath. Oh God, she was going to die. Trapped in a parallel world, where no one from her real life would ever find out what had happened to her.

  “Please,” she said. It hadn’t worked on Cal, but fuck it, Jane had nothing to lose. “Please just let me go.”

  UltraViolet laughed. She pinched her chin, her finger tapping her cheek in a mockery of contemplation. “Hmm. How about . . . no?”

  “What do you want from me?!”

  The question came out more desperate than Jane intended. She’d written scenes like this—oh, so many scenes like this—and the hero always put on a brave face.

  A single eyebrow arched up. “Your powers, of course,” UltraViolet said, as if it was obvious. She motioned at the equipment around them. “Why would I go through all the effort to lure you here if I could have gotten what I wanted anywhere else? Do you have any idea how complicated it was, to stage a scenario where the Heroes would need to turn to you for help?”

  Jane’s stomach dropped, as if UltraViolet’s words had punched her in the gut.

  She’d been right. All this time, all these odd little coincidences, the perfect timing . . . She knew that UltraViolet was trying to manipulate her, and dammit, she was right.

  Jane had never hated being right as much as she did in this moment.

  But okay, okay, there was no time to panic. Somewhere, even now, Jane’s mind was whirring. UltraViolet had turned her back, which made it marginally easier to think. Even if she was selecting some horrible tool from her horrible instrument tray, even if Jane’s death was inching ever closer.

  Tears pricked Jane’s eyes. Dammit, what did she think she was going to be able to do? This wasn’t a comic book. There was no rescue coming her way. There was no one tiny weakness that Jane could use to exploit UltraViolet. She didn’t have a trick up her sleeve. She couldn’t even get out of these restraints!

  She was supposed to be a hero, but right now all Jane felt like was a fraud.

  UltraViolet turned back. She had a metal disk in her hand, cold and clinical.

  Jane shrieked as UltraViolet yanked open the neck of Jane’s uniform.

  UltraViolet rolled her eyes. “Pathetic,” she muttered. She pulled the front of Jane’s uniform open, just enough to slap the disk onto Jane’s sternum. Two white electrodes were nestled inside, and UltraViolet strung them up to adhere to Jane’s temples.

  “You know,” UltraViolet said, “there’s a certain poetry in this.”

  Jane hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was rise to UltraViolet’s bait—but on the other hand, it could only work in Jane’s favor to keep her talking.

  At least, that’s how it worked in comics. Who knew if the rules were the same here? But it was all Jane had to go on, all that she knew when it came to situations like this.

  “How so?”

  UltraViolet smiled, purple lips curling in self-satisfaction. “Let’s just say that it’ll be interesting to see if you handle this experience any better than Clair did.”

  Jane rolled her eyes. “You expect me to fall for that?”

  “It’s no joke. I’ve been to your world
plenty.”

  “Oh, I know all about your little stint as a stalker,” Jane said, and when UltraViolet glanced up, brow wrinkled, Jane added, “Your mom told me.”

  “Of course she did.”

  “Yeah. So if you think that you’re going to shock me with this blinding revelation, think again. If anything, the story only makes you look sad and pathetic. Spying on us from a distance, sobbing over Clair’s accident . . . running to mommy for comfort? But let me tell you something, bitch: you don’t have the right to cry over Clair. You have no idea how amazing she was.”

  A smirk drew up the corner of UltraViolet’s mouth. “No. I probably don’t. But I’ll tell you what I do know.” She leaned in, so close that her breath was hot against Jane’s cheek as she whispered, “That wasn’t an accident.”

  The burst of light from Jane’s hands was fast, and involuntary. She balled her fists, cutting it off, but the damage was done. UltraViolet stood back, a look of feigned innocence upon her face. She shrugged.

  “Sorry,” UltraViolet said, in a voice the exact opposite of sorry. She raised her hands in a what-can-you-do? gesture. “It’s the truth.”

  “Don’t you dare say something like that.”

  UltraViolet’s lip jutted out in a mock-pout. “Aw. Did I hurt your feewings?”

  “No,” Jane said. “I just don’t believe you.”

  “Why not? Why should I care? She wasn’t my wife.”

  Another flash. “Shut up!” Jane shouted.

  UltraViolet laughed. “I know. The truth hurts, doesn’t it? But it’s important that you know, Jane Maxwell. It is so important. I didn’t just witness Clair’s accident, sweetie. I made it. And then I dragged her out of it—”

  “Shut up!”

  “—and I killed her.”

  “Shut up!”

  The room flooded. Blaring light and sound and gizmos switching on. The walkie-talkie that UltraViolet had been using blared, SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!, and a wordless shriek of rage bounded through the factory.

  UltraViolet’s grin lit up so bright that it may as well have been electric. “There it is,” she said, her voice drowning in the noise as she reached forward and switched on the device sitting on Jane’s chest.

  * * *

  Light flared.

  Jane, however, did not.

  She wouldn’t be able to explain what happened, certainly not at the time, nor for a long while after. What she knew is what she saw: UltraViolet’s finger, pressing a button on the disk on Jane’s chest. A flash of light, a burst of electrical energy. One of the wires that led to Jane’s temple crossed the chain of her necklace, and this is where the spark began. The necklace glowed—Clair’s ring glowed—and then the energy thrummed straight down to Jane’s bones as it roared to life. It burst outward, a bubble of glowing red and purple and pink.

  UltraViolet was thrown back. Cal, who’d been approaching again, his phone in hand, was thrown back. He had the harder landing, but then, he took the larger burst of energy. His body went flying, crashing into a set of shelves full of beakers and spare parts, everything falling and shattering underneath his weight.

  Jane screamed, and the disk on her chest buzzed and burned. Energy surged through her, enough to fry the restraints holding her in place. She threw them off, leaping up from the table and ripping the disk from her chest just as UltraViolet was staggering back to her feet.

  The world around Jane was aglow. Jane had drawn this before, Captain Lumen’s powers switched on so much that light seemed to ooze from everything, but never did she expect to actually see it. It was always written in the Hero Moments, the times when Captain Lumen had to dig deep, the moment when the tables would turn and you just knew that the enemy would be vanquished in the next few pages.

  No pressure, or anything.

  Before Jane knew what was happening, UltraViolet was barreling toward her. Jane leaped aside, but UltraViolet’s nails raked down Jane’s arm, and caught on the lacing of her sleeve. Her grip tightened, and Jane was yanked like an elastic snapping back. She slammed against the table, the light glaring in her face.

  Jane’s wince was more reflexive than anything else. If she was the proper Captain Lumen, she wouldn’t have shut her eyes at all, knowing that she’d still be able to see even in the brightest glow.

  But she wasn’t, so she did. And in the meantime, the “proper” Captain Lumen—twisted now into a darker shade of herself—had bent down and retrieved the disk from where it had fallen to the floor.

  There was no way in hell that Jane was ever letting that thing touch her again. Her knee flew up before she could think about it. It collided with UltraViolet’s elbow, jostling her arm aside. Just enough for Jane to slip her own arm free, and punch UltraViolet in the ribs.

  UltraViolet cried out. She’d been favoring that side ever since she was thrown back, and the pain of it was enough of a distraction to weaken her grip on Jane. Jane slipped out, slithering off of the table and landing in a crouch.

  “Shouldn’t have had Cal teach me quite so well,” Jane said, as she stood back up.

  UltraViolet snorted. “Learn this.” She reared back and kicked the table hard at Jane.

  It collided with Jane just above her hips. She staggered back, and in this opening, a flash of condensed light shot in Jane’s direction, straight for her heart.

  Instinct threw Jane’s hand up. She knew that it would do her no good, and she flinched, anticipating the impact.

  A soft tickle brushed her palm, like a feather across her skin. Jane lowered her hand and stared at it, pink and unblemished.

  She looked up. UltraViolet was watching her with matching bewilderment.

  Jane threw her own laser beam in UltraViolet’s direction, and UltraViolet reached up, almost lazily, like catching a baseball in a glove. The light struck UltraViolet’s palm, dissipating as soon as it landed.

  UltraViolet’s mouth twisted. “Guess we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way,” she said. She whipped a knife from an unseen sheath, the blade glinting as she turned it in Jane’s direction.

  Jane was running before she realized that was her plan. Around the equipment, over a table, through a door. Jane blinked, shifting her vision in the sudden darkness. The door led way to a staggeringly enormous room, the ceiling so far above her that it was difficult to see. Huge vats filled most of the space, glowing in infrared, a conveyor belt snaking between them. Ladders and catwalks provided access up above, but there was no way that Jane would have time to climb up before UltraViolet caught her. She needed someplace to hide, and fast.

  She darted between the vats. With luck, the heat signatures being generated by whatever chemicals were cooking up inside would mask her from UltraViolet’s vision. They glowed so bright in infrared that it was certainly distracting for Jane, and she switched her vision back to normal as she considered her next move.

  Footsteps echoed among the burbling of the chemicals, the groan of the pipes.

  “Really, Jane?” UltraViolet called. Her voice boomed through the open room. “Aren’t we a little old for hide-and-seek?”

  Jane said nothing. She inched her way along the edge of the vats, mindful of every shaky breath, every heartbeat slamming against her ribs. If she could just find a way out of here . . .

  Oh, but then what? UltraViolet could likely track her, no matter where Jane went. Even returning to her own world wouldn’t keep her safe—experience alone had taught her that.

  As if sensing her thought process, UltraViolet laughed. “You know, this really is pointless. Where are you going to go? There’s no one to help you this time. You’re all on your own. Poor little Jane, always alone now. No Clair. No Amy. Not even Cal—and trust me, he’s a pitiful substitute to begin with.”

  Jane shut her eyes. No, she told herself. Do not let her get to you. You have to find a way out of here. That’s all that matters right now.

  Jane craned her neck. She blinked, temporarily switching her infrared back on. There seemed to be a doo
r in the far corner. There: a solid plan—well, part of one, at any rate.

  UltraViolet’s footsteps drew closer. Jane scrambled back, retracing her steps. Okay, fine—she could get to the door some other way. They circled the same vat for a few seconds before UltraViolet paused. Jane stopped, too. Shit, was UltraViolet listening, as well? Had Jane been too fast, in her movements? Too loud with her breathing?

  “I have to say, I really don’t know what Amy sees in you,” UltraViolet said after a moment.

  Jane shut her eyes in relief. Taunting, she could handle.

  “She loves you, you know.”

  Was it Jane’s imagination, or did a tinge of sadness mar UltraViolet’s otherwise booming voice? But then it was gone—Jane could hear the smirk as UltraViolet continued:

  “And you love her. Though I’m sure you’re denying that to yourself, even now. But I know, Jane Maxwell. I’ve seen that look a thousand times.”

  Jane gritted her teeth. Don’t react. Don’t react, don’t react, don’t react.

  She took another step around the vats.

  “What do you suppose Clair would think, though?”

  Jane froze. Don’t. React.

  “I mean, I know she’s dead. So I suppose that nothing you do can technically be called cheating anymore. But really, Jane. Are you that desperate for a lay these days, that you’d desecrate the memory of your wife by sleeping with a cheap copy of her?”

  A burst of adrenaline shot through Jane. For a second, there was nothing but the pounding of her feet, the thunder of blood in her ears. “She’s not a cheap copy!” Jane shouted, as she rounded the vat.

  UltraViolet wasn’t there.

  Jane scrambled to a halt. A faint shimmer rippled the darkness, and in an instant Jane remembered her own comics: Captain Lumen could refract light around him, essentially turning himself invisible. Jane blinked, and the infrared glow of an orange fist coming at her filled her vision.