Sidekick

by Carl Stubblefield

  Dave was always the life of the party, joking and keeping everyone entertained. Gus thought back and realized that he had no idea that Dave was struggling with anything.

  Have I been so caught up in my own drama that I couldn’t see that anyone else needed anything?

  He’d have to get better at improving his awareness of others. Especially those who meant a lot to him. If he couldn’t do that, how did he expect to be this great hero? He was ‘saving’ psychopaths, and not there for his friends. Not a great start.

  “Sorry for killing the mood, man. We can talk about something else if you want.”

  “No, it’s not you, I was just thinking. Hey—if I was too into my own stuff to not be there for you, I want to apologize, man. I had no idea, but I feel like I should have.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Gus. It’s something that I thought I had a handle on, and it turns out I didn’t. Just stupid of me trying to hide from my problems, knowing what I know. It’s a stupid pride thing, but I didn’t want you guys to think less of me. Sometimes life pours it on though, and even though you know better, you betray yourself. At least that’s how it is for me. Everything happened at once, I got really down and fell back to old patterns. I’m just glad you guys haven’t seen me at my worst.”

  “I don’t think any less of you, Dave. You know that, right? I doubt any of the rest of us feel any differently than I do, either. And while I probably have been a little checked-out and into my own thing in the past, I’m putting all my crap on hold if you need something. Got it?”

  “You’re gonna make me all weepy,” Dave mockingly sobbed.

  “I’m serious, man. You know all the drama I’ve had with my dad. Some of what I’ve gone through on the island was crap, but it helped me grow up, at least a little. At times I acted like a little bitch, and I see that now. My perspective is a little different, and hopefully, you get that my bros are a priority now more than ever. All of you have been a rock for me and carried me in the past, when you probably didn’t know what I was going through. Some days I was more down than you knew, down on myself, upset from something that happened with my father or brother, and just being around the gang boosted me and made me forget all the garbage. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t even that significant, but it was to me, and you guys were there. So thanks.”

  “No problem. I should have trusted you guys more; I think I had convinced myself that I didn’t need help. Or that asking would come off as weak, somehow. Too late to worry about the past though, amirite? If things work out for me legally, then I’m going to be calling you on your promise. Don’t get too busy saving the world. I won’t lie, I’ll probably be a damn pest about it, too.”

  “Bring it,” Gus said, laughing.

  “Well, what do we talk about now that we’ve aired our dirty laundry?” Dave asked, his voice returning to its typical jovial quality.

  “Well, I’m going to need some eyes and ears back home to figure out what threats I can expect. I don’t know who is coming or the scope of what I’m dealing with. Can you look up anything you can find out about a guy named Methiochos?”

  “How do you spell that?”

  “M-E-T-H-I-O-C-H-O-S.”

  “Okay, but why? Isn’t that the guy you beat?”

  “Yeah, but that message said that they were going to ‘reclaim what was theirs.’ That makes me think that he must have stolen it from someone else. I’d like to know a little bit more about who that could be, if I could. It might help me better prepare. If you find him, see if there’s anything about the manor, who built it, and what its capabilities are. There might be nothing, since it seems like great lengths were taken to keep it secret.”

  “Got it. That it?” Dave replied, obviously scribbling things down.

  “Any idea how my dad is doing?”

  “Sorry, can’t say that I do. He hasn’t reached out to us or anything.”

  “Well, I can’t say that I’m surprised,” Gus grumbled.

  “Yeah, I’ll bet you’re probably used to it by now. Still sucks though.”

  “Alright, when is a good time to call you back? I don’t even know what day of the week it is.”

  “Must be nice on your tropical getaway. It’s Thursday, fool.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you next Thursday, around this time. Cool?”

  “Yeah, totally, totes magoats.”

  “Later, bro. Good talking with you,” Gus replied, laughing.

  “Catch ya later. I’ll try to see what Chuck has been up to, he could help. Good talk.”

  Gus clicked off the connection and sat there with a stupid smile on his face. Even hearing Dave’s bad news and being reamed by him for his own idiocy, it was good to talk to him again. Maybe he could even do something to help him out when he made it back to the mainland.

  Gus reached for the keyboard, about to contact his dad, but thought better of it. Maybe later. He didn’t want to spoil the feeling he had right now. No bad vibes. At least for a while.

  Chapter Ten

  Incredibad

  “Basileus, you will be in charge. Anyone who ignores his orders will be terminated… in every sense of the word. Understand?” The group of supers nodded their agreement to the orders. Archon turned and headed up the lift surrounded by his entourage of bodyguards.

  Basileus looked at the motley group of mostly Factionless mercenaries that were willing to go on the mission. Manticorps did not have the reputation it once had, nor did it have the same financial clout either. His father, the founder of Manticorps, had found some resources though.

  Somehow Archon had managed to gather more candidates than expected. No doubt he was expecting some to not make it, so their contracts wouldn’t have to be paid. Surprising how many mercs didn’t insist on a clause in their contracts that would require payment to another in case of their demise. If they weren’t that savvy, it certainly wasn’t his business.

  Finally, he was going to clean up this mess. He had botched the job all those years ago, and though his father didn’t know about his involvement, he was concerned about what would happen if he found out. Archon was all about results, and he didn’t care about good intentions if you couldn’t deliver on your promises—even for flesh and blood.

  There was still a lot Basileus didn’t know about the Traitor. Methiochos shouldn’t have been able to get the shield up if everything had gone to plan. He knew he should’ve gone himself, but Annie said she could do it. Part of him refused to admit his cowardice in allowing her to go instead, but he had a legacy to uphold. With her powers, she would always be support staff, probably in HR. He had to think about carrying on his father’s legacy and the company. The familiar justification made him feel only slightly less guilty and even angrier. Since then, he had rarely failed. In fact, he knew the exact number: thirty-four times. Not bad for almost five decades, but they had taught him much.

  He thinks he’s not a failure! a voice said in his head, followed by a chorus of laughter.

  Shut up, all of you. You all are failures! Basileus pushed his eyes closed and hit his temples ferociously with balled-up fists. Bit by bit, he distanced the heckling voices until they were imperceptible. He wiped away an errant drop of blood trickling down the side of his face. They were gone. He rubbed the copper-scented drop on his fingertips, feeling it get sticky as it dried.

  Basileus was used to succeeding at whatever he tried. He overcame, often by sheer effort of will. But his failure with the nano-virus was both a mystery and evidence of his fallibility. And that could not stand. He would get the island back and the manor with it. He didn’t care what Methiochos managed to achieve in the decades he had been on the island. Basileus had been tireless in his preparation as well and knew that the isolation would also put restraints on the Traitor and his crew. He had no doubt they weren’t as well off as Archon believed. He would take everything back and then his father would never have to know.

  He was under strict orders not to waste those under his charge, as there would
be no replacements. They didn’t need to know that, though. Basileus could make the calls on the mission but, ultimately, he was responsible for its success or failure. If he could pull this off, not only would he redeem himself in his own eyes, but his father would hand over the reins to Manticorps.

  A new Manticorps with the resources to make them an unstoppable powerhouse. Then the retribution for all those who refused to help them or who were conveniently ‘busy’ when his father and Manticorps were in need. Basileus knew them all. And they would be repaid for their indifference, with interest.

  The plan was to send his scouts out first. They would stealth in, gather intel on the situation, and return so they could plan their assault. What they found would determine if they made a large push or relied on planning and tactics. He excelled at any form of strategy, and almost welcomed the challenge.

  He hoped Methiochos would struggle. Despite his healing abilities, the Traitor would be older and weaker by now. He wondered if he would recognize Basileus.

  Only two of the mercs had stealth abilities, but they were also fliers which made things more convenient for him. They could go in alone and didn’t need anyone to ferry them to the island and back.

  They had extrapolated the location of the island from the beacon placed on Methiochos’ ship all those years ago. Annie had gotten that right, at least, and the fact that it was still working after all this time was a miracle in itself. As soon as they had confirmation of the island, they would destroy the beacon to keep the island’s location all to themselves. If one of the Factions found out, Manticorps wouldn’t be able to compete with the sheer volume of resources they would throw at the island and their golden opportunity would have been lost.

  Basileus thought they would obtain more intel from the space station assault as well as from their prisoner. Something must have worked though, because the wall came down just a little after the station. He’d had to kill Graviton in the process but, fortunately, there was no record connecting Manticorps to the attack, so they were in the clear as long as that stayed true. That meant Aurora would eventually have to go.

  Such a waste. She was pretty, but when Manticorps rose from the ashes, he would have his pick of women. He was sure of that. Still, killing her was less ideal than turning her. She was unusually resilient though. He had done enough interrogations and torture sessions to see who would change and who would cling on to the bitter end. Aurora was a bitter-ender. She had really offered no useful intel about the island or the manor. Basileus was astonished that someone in her position would have no knowledge about their mission, but it could have been a brilliant move by Purple Faction.

  He would deal with her before they left. And he would deal with it himself this time. He would be getting his hands dirty a lot in the near future if things went to plan. Showing his resolve would be an example for those who would follow. After he finished, they could set off and finally end this fiasco.

  “Aurora! You need to focus!” the voice said with desperation.

  “I’m trying, dammit!” Aurora gasped. She had always used her hands as a focus for her power. The voice had told her that was just a bad habit she had to break her mind of believing. She could project her powers anywhere around her; she didn’t even need physical contact.

  “You can free yourself if you just do this one thing. Project your power into one spot. I know you can’t see the chains that are holding you, but you don’t need to. Trust me!”

  Aurora tried again, but the concept was fuzzy. When she tried to wrap her head around what the voice kept telling her, she just couldn’t get it to work. There wasn’t anything in front of her, so she couldn’t really practice the skill on anything else.

  “Stop worrying you’ll accidentally hit your hand or arm. You’re hesitating, and it’s affecting your concentration and power buildup.”

  A door creaked open and bright light spilled into the chamber. “Let me finish up here, first. Yeah, she doesn’t know anything. I won’t be long, but we can’t have any loose ends,” a man framed in the doorway said, touching his ear and talking on a comm.

  Aurora’s heart froze. Too late.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jailbreak

  Boots made loud clops on the floor as they approached, and Aurora held her breath. The high-pitched trill of a communicator went off. “Yes, sir. But I think that I should—” A pregnant pause. “No, I’m not second-guessing you— It would be wise to— Understood. We will get underway immediately.” Angry muttering could be heard as the boots stomped back to the door and slammed it behind the figure as he left.

  Aurora exhaled deeply from holding her breath. “You have no more time, if not him than someone else.” Aurora pushed harder than before, spurred on by desperation.

  “Good, good! Now move that focus left… there!” Aurora could see sparks occasionally pop overhead and the flickering light as she compressed her skill into a small area and held it. She usually used her skill as an area-of-effect attack, and it was so difficult to focus her power in this way.

  At last, the chain gave way and one arm was free. She spun around and relieved the ever-present tension on her sore body. It was much easier to focus on the chain now that she could see it and she burned through the other side and lay on the cold cobbles, letting her back and shoulders rest.

  The large rubber material that covered her hands bounced and came to a rest as her shoulders protested. Tilting her head to the side, she saw they were not as large as she had initially expected. Both were the size of soccer balls, but they were still heavy to lift. She tried to hit them against the floor and wall, but they were perfectly spherical and simply bounced.

  Now that she was partially free, hope sprang back and with it just a bit of anger. She tried releasing energy directly into the rubber around her hands and felt no change in the material. This made her even more frustrated and she poured more MP into the skill, focusing on her right hand and the ball of rubber around it. The air around the ball began to ionize into plasma and she compressed the field to degrade the rubber.

  She could feel the sulfur atoms in the material and attacked them, ripping electrons away. As it became oxidized and the cross-links began to fail, the material began to lose its cohesion. The outer surface began to crack and the furrows began to run together like clay in a desert riverbed, and still she pushed. When her MP was nearly expended, she slammed the ball against the ground and the material gave up.

  It shattered into pieces, and Aurora dropped the T-bar handle her hand had been clutching. It fell with the chain that used to attach it to the wall as Aurora flexed her hand, sweaty, numb, and cramped for being forced in the same position for who knew how long.

  With her other hand free, the remaining ball was quickly destroyed after her MP recharged. Getting to her feet, she felt like a fawn just after birth, wobbly and uncertain. Inside though, she felt like molten lava. She had been overpowered on the station, but three on one really wasn’t a fair fight. She wasn’t going to let them have another opportunity to get the drop on her.

  She made her way to the door, her strength returning quicker than expected. After checking to see if it was clear, she snuck out. The area was conspicuously empty. Heading up two floors, she found a supply closet and ducked inside as someone approached. She subdued the man as he passed, who turned out to not be a super at all. She donned his jumpsuit and helmet, leaving him bound in the closet, tucking her hair up into the helmet as she exited.

  Seeing another group of men carrying supplies, she followed them to a large troop transport. Taking a risk, she jogged up to them and offered to carry a crate that was sliding out of an overburdened worker’s grip as they loaded it aboard. He nodded briefly and grunted as he tried to reorient his load. She followed and stacked the crate with the others.

  As the men filed off to grab another load, she hung back and, instead of heading down the ramp, made an abrupt turn and hid behind some other crates. When the coast was clear, she made her way to an acc
ess panel and sealed herself inside. This was a standard C-type transport, and they were similar to what Purple Faction used to utilize. She waited until the ship began to lift-off, indicating that they were underway.

  One of her specialties in the academy was working on transports, mostly because she was so skinny that she could fit in the tight accessways and fix things. Like any organization, you could wait for the work order to get through the bureaucracy, but it was almost always easier to get things done yourself. She stretched out in the narrow passageway, glad to be finally free of the chains, and massaged her hands and shoulders, rotating them to relieve them. The warmth of the duct got to her, and she drifted to sleep, thinking about the academy again.

  Aurora looked at the man in the purple jumpsuit and was ready to bolt. “I saw what you just did there, young miss, and I’ll admit I’m impressed. What would ye think about coming to train at Purple Faction Academy?” he asked, his voice thick with an accent. Not quite French—Belgian, maybe?

  Aurora had heard things about the academy but it didn’t seem real. That was for important people. The difference between regs and supers was a huge divide. And among regs, she was the lowest of the unspoken caste system that had developed post-supers.

  No, it was too good to be true. This guy had to have some ulterior motive. I’m not going to escape from those creeps just to jump into the arms of this one. “I’ll have to think about it,” she said noncommittally.