“How did you catch him?” asked Bill, resting his arms on his armored legs. “What gave him away?”
Austin got a glint in his eye.
“His schedule. I started noticing that he traveled faster than anyone I had ever seen. He told me that he was flying, but even with that thin excuse, I’ve never seen anyone fly commercially and be on time one hundred percent of the time. There were never any layovers. Never any cancellations.
“Soon I started keeping an eye on his arrivals at my office. He never drove a car anywhere when he was alone, and I never saw him get out of a cab. I wanted to know how he was doing it, so one day I hid a camera in the bushes outside. I expected to see him walking down the sidewalk, maybe coming from a restaurant out of view. That was the most plausible explanation.
“What I saw on that film still gives me chills to this day.”
Austin’s eyes sparkled in the fluorescent light and he looked directly at Bill.
“I reviewed the tape that evening and was shocked to see Jeff descend from the air above the street, landing on the concrete sidewalk as if he had just parachuted in. There it was - clear as day!
“I tried to find some explanation, some glitch or trick of the light, that could explain the images I captured. But, there was no explanation that made sense. All arrows were pointing to Jeff having some sort of supernatural abilities, and being the creative type, I never ruled it out at face value. I just needed confirmation and proof.”
Bill stroked his chin lazily.
“So, you confronted him,” he said.
Austin nodded.
“It didn’t go over so well at first. Understandably, Jeff was afraid that I would ‘out’ him to the world. His fear made him reluctant to continue working with me, but soon I gained his trust and convinced him that we were both working towards the same thing. We wanted to make the world a better place.”
Bill smirked.
“That’s such an open-ended statement,” he said. “I’m guessing Jeff was against your whole ‘brainwash and mind control’ strategy?”
“Of course,” Austin replied. “You know Jeff’s type more than anybody. He wanted to fight crime. I wanted to fight social blindness and passivity. Eventually we parted ways, and he took my technology with him.”
“Such a sad story,” said Bill sarcastically to break the serious atmosphere. “But, at least we know the ending to the story. Jeff is in the ground, and you used your technological know-how to create an Aberrant persona for yourself - admittedly in a round-about way. I’d say you were the more successful one.”
Austin gave a faint, knowing smile, but did not respond.
“Still,” Bill continued. “I’m tired of hiding out. Aren’t we wasting time just sitting here, doing nothing?”
“You need to learn patience,” Austin said with a wave of his hand. “Don’t forget that it’s thanks to me and my own patience that you got away from that prison transport and successfully hid out at my lab. It’s because of my mind control abilities that there weren’t news stories circulating until you were already in hiding. I won’t let you undo all our progress because you can’t wait to attack.”
Leaning back in his chair, Bill rested his head against the headrest.
“How did you come across these mind control abilities without the Vestige anyway? Are you ever going to tell me?”
Austin froze in place and, for the first time in Bill’s memory, appeared to become reflective. His eyes became shiny as moisture built up around them. He blinked it all away and forced his normal serious expression back onto his features.
Bill drummed his fingers on the side of his chair.
“Looks like you have your own share of skeletons in your closet,” he said softly, fixing his stare on Austin.
The younger man nodded solemnly, then he said, “You know I can’t tell you that. Even if we are partners.”
Bill steeled his expression. “In the future, perhaps,” he muttered.
“I know you can’t keep surviving on blind faith alone,” admitted Austin. “It seems like I’m being evasive, and to be honest, I am. But, have patience. We still need to trust each other. I’ll drop questions about your past if you drop questions about mine. It will all come together in the end. I promise you that you will have the Vestige in the end and we will be kings among men. You just have to trust me and follow the plan.”
Bill rolled his eyes.
“I will,” he said, “when you actually tell me what the plan is.”
A smile tugged at Austin’s lips and he brought a hand up to stroke his fingers along the tan flesh of his chin.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll tell you a lot of things by tonight. That’s where the trust comes in.”
Bill didn’t like the thought of being someone’s lackey, but what choice did he have? He could fend for himself in the past, but even now he had to admit that without these mechanical legs and ballistic rockets he would be sitting in a wheelchair in a prison cell somewhere. He probably wouldn’t even be able to see the light of day.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll be patient, but I expect answers by tonight. I can’t follow the plan if I don’t even know what it is. Don’t forget, we’re still at a disadvantage when it comes to Shaun Boding. Even with all our technology, Shaun still has Aberrant powers. He could wipe us out with an energy blast. And it’s not just him. You saw the news. Now he has his friend posing as a sidekick. What are two of us going to do against two super-powered Aberrants?”
Austin’s smile widened.
“That’s the thing,” he replied. “It won’t be just the two of us. There will be more. Many, many more.”
Bill blinked.
“How? Where are we going to get these people?”
Austin glanced at his watch, his tongue sliding out from between his rows of teeth. Slowly he raised a finger into the air. Then -
A buzzer sounded. It was the signal that someone was standing outside their facility, waiting to be let in.
Austin motioned with his finger at Bill.
“That must be her,” he said.
3
Impressionable Minds
Bill watched from the side room, closed off from the rest of the facility, as a flat screen television gave him a look at what was happening in the main office while the speakers communicated everything that was being said.
His eyes widened slightly as he recognized the blond girl who took a seat across from Austin.
It’s Kimberly Parker…
Bill recognized her from when he attacked Shaun Boding in Chinatown. That was the girl that Shaun was with. He couldn’t forget that face. The only difference seeing her this time was that she wasn’t running away in terror.
But, how did Austin get her to show up here?
He settled into his chair and leaned closer to the television so that he wouldn’t miss a single word that was said.
There were, of course, the normal introductions. Austin welcomed Kimberly to the facility, and Bill was curious how the girl didn’t recognize Austin. It wasn’t a secret that Austin had run into the girl and Shaun in Chinatown. In fact, that run-in was the precursor to Bill hunting them down. It was Austin who scoped it out and tipped him off.
Yet, the girl gave no indication that she had ever met Austin before.
Then the puzzle became more clear as Austin introduced himself – not as Austin Spencer, but as somebody completely different. He said that his name was John - how original. After the introduction, Austin glanced in the direction of the camera and nodded slightly with a smile to Bill.
So that’s it, thought Bill. The girl was under one of Austin’s illusions. There must’ve been something attached to a surface that Kimberly had touched – maybe on the front door knob. Whatever it was, the trick worked.
Bill was still having a hard time getting used to the powers that Austin possessed. At times he was so concerned with guarding his own mind because he wasn’t sure if Austin would suddenly turn on him.
<
br /> He listened closely to what was being said.
“I’m going to be completely upfront with you, Kim,” said Austin, raising his thick brown eyebrows behind the incredibly large, black-rimmed glasses sitting on his nose. “You’re not the only student we’ve interviewed, but I’m impressed with your resume.”
“Really?” Kimberly replied, her voice sounding tinny through the speakers.
“Of course! Everyone wants a way into the game industry, but not everyone is as ambitious as you.”
So, thought Bill, he’s framing it as a job interview. Either that, or an internship interview at some fictional game development company. Austin continued.
“I understand it’s all just high school activities - but, someone at your level, just starting out, is expected to make the most of their courses. And you definitely show a lot of promise. Your grades are excellent, and I’m impressed with your graphic design work. I think you will learn a lot here.”
A disbelieving smile broke out on Kimberly’s face.
“T-that would be wonderful,” she said.
Austin rested his weight on a single hand that pressed down on the desk between them.
“The game industry is an exciting one to pursue,” he continued. “But, it is absolutely competitive. Getting your foot in the door is sometimes impossible. People work their whole lives never getting any closer to being a part of a successful project.” His eyes flicked up at her. “But, I don’t see that happening for you. With this internship you will get the hands-on training that will stay with you for your entire career.”
Bill rolled his eyes. Austin certainly loved to hear himself talk. Would he just get on with it?
“Our audience is as enthusiastic as we are,” Austin said. “Which is why we are giving you a chance to connect with them directly.”
Kimberly sat up a bit straighter.
“How so?”
Austin smiled.
“We will be presenting our latest VR app at the Cape and Cowl Con here in town,” he explained. “You and a few other interns will have the chance to be the face of our organization and demo our product. It will be great exposure.” He paused. “If you want it, that is?”
Kimberly looked like she was trying to contain herself.
“I look forward to it!” she said.
Another glance at the camera and Austin all but confirmed that his plan - whatever it was - had been set in motion.
“This should be interesting…” Bill muttered as he watched Austin hand Kimberly a packet of information and walked her out of the office.
Minutes later Austin returned to the building, rubbing his hands together.
“So, she is our foot in the door?” asked Bill.
Austin nodded.
“It’s like I said,” he replied. “We won’t have to go to Shaun Boding. He will come to us. But, that doesn’t mean that we can’t do a little psychological warfare against him before the big showdown.”
Bill let out a low chuckle.
“I like the sound of that,” he said. “Will I be able to watch?”
Austin gripped Bill’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be in the front row.”
4
Capes and Cowls
I will say one thing right now - when fame happens to you, it hits you like a convention hall packed with screaming people. Some of those people are wearing cosplay costumes of characters that you drew in your comic book. Some of those people have dressed up their kids in costumes of characters that you drew in your comic book, and some of those people are crying and taking a crap ton of pictures. I’m not making this stuff up.
However they are presenting themselves, all of those screaming, cheering, crying people are crowded into Hall H of the Cape and Cowl Con, and I think I might be terrified.
The auditorium is enormous, built with a cavernous ceiling and walls padded with sound-channeling fabric. Yet, you wouldn’t believe that the room was as big as it is because all six hundred seats are filled to capacity.
The announcer, a wiry guy in his thirties with thick glasses, glances over at me. He gives me a wink as I stand, shaking with adrenaline and terror in the wings of the stage, and the guy raises the microphone to his mouth.
“What do you think?” he asks. “Should I call him out here?”
The cheer that erupts is loud enough to shake the walls. I glance around as if I’m going to see bits of the superstructure crumbling around me. But, nothing like that happens. The building remains standing and the cheer eventually dies down into simply clapping and a few whistles.
The announcer chuckles and brings the mic right up to his mouth so that his lips brush the mesh wire ball of the receiver.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear a very warm round of applause for the man who holds the keys to the kingdom, the writer and artist behind the upcoming Super Guy: Reckoning, Mr. Shaun Boding!”
I can feel the air pressing against my face as I walk out onto the stage. Out in the audience people are holding up their phones in the air, bombarding me with flashes. When my eyes recover from all the light I spot a few signs made out of posterboard being shaken by excited fans. They have drawings of Super Guy on them and messages of anticipation of the small paperback booklet that I clutch in my sweaty hands.
“Right this way, Shaun,” says the announcer and I make my way behind a long table draped with a regal purple tablecloth. In the center of the table, hanging from tiny hooks, is the glittering Super Guy logo.
Already seated at the table is Mr. Crichton. He gives me a brilliant smile and can’t help but laugh at how shocked I look. He waves me over and I gratefully take a seat beside him.
The cheering continues for a minute or so and finally dies down.
I feel like I’m sitting in the hot seat, ready to be interrogated. In fact, I realize that the audience is waiting for me to say something, so I lean towards a microphone that is poised in front of my spot and utter, “Hey, everybody.”
A few people give whoops and catcalls in the audience and I feel my cheeks go pink.
“This is the man you’ve all been waiting for,” says the announcer. “Some of you waited here overnight, if I’m not mistaken?”
Again, some catcalls.
I give a wave and start to get into the presentation.
“Thank-you so much for being here. How early did you guys get here?”
One girl dressed up as a side character in the Super Guy universe, Chrysalis, waves a hand and calls out, “3:00 a.m.!”
A bunch of people laugh, and so do I.
“Looks like you didn’t get a lot of sleep,” I say. “That’s alright. I didn’t get too much sleep, myself.”
This, thankfully, gets another laugh. I sit back and let the announcer take over.
This convention arrived a lot sooner than I expected. Realistically, a few months have passed since I signed the official contract to finish up the Super Guy series with my late father’s publishing house. But, even so, November arrived like a bullet train and now here I am, pitching the continuation of my father’s series under my own hand.
It’s exciting and bone-chilling at the same time. I loosen my grip on the first issue of the series to keep from wrinkling the glossy pages. This is actually the first time that anyone in the general public will have seen the inside of these covers. Sure, there are a few critics that have been granted access to it, and they said really nice things for the quotes. But, it’s these people in this hall, the true fans of Super Guy, who are the ones that I need to please.
If this were any of the previous weeks and I had been spotted carrying this comic book around, I would have been trampled and the book ripped from my hands. I’m actually surprised that the pages weren’t leaked onto the internet like a Harry Potter book. The security in place was so crazy. I couldn’t even have internet on the computer where I worked.
Even with all the security and pressure in place, seeing the end result on the table in front of me is all wort
h it.
I just hope that the audience likes it as much as I liked writing and drawing it.
“How long has it been since the last issue of Super Guy hit newsstands?” asks the announcer. “A few years, right?”
Mr. Crichton nods.
“We didn’t want to go ahead with just anybody,” he tells the assembly. “The company wanted Super Guy to be in good hands, and I’m pleased to say that Shaun’s hands are the most trusted that this series could have ever found.”
“Tell us a little bit about how you took the reigns on this monumental series, Shaun,” says the announcer. “It is without a doubt a major undertaking. What was your process like?”
All eyes are glued to me, and I can feel my knees trembling under the table. Thank goodness there is a tablecloth to hide my nerves.
“Well,” I start, “I began like anybody else would have. I went back and re-read the entire Super Guy series from beginning to end.”
“Like a true fan!” says the announcer, eliciting cheers from the audience. A few flashbulbs go off.
“My father would say that I was his first fan,” I reply. “He used to read the comic to me when I was younger, so I had incredible memories to draw upon.”
“Did he ever tell you what the ending was going to be?”
The room seems to hold its breath.
“Unfortunately, the ending was something that only existed in my father’s mind,” I answer. “He never gave away any of his secrets - not even to me. But, he didn’t leave me completely high and dry.” I pause for dramatic effect. “It was only when I started thinking about taking over the series that I found a journal that my father kept. In that journal were many of the answers to the mysteries sprinkled throughout the Super Guy series. I ended up using that as a guide, and soon enough, the end became crystal clear to me.”
“Like, where the Vestige came from?” teases the announcer, and I laugh as people clap.
The Aberrant Series (Book 3): Super Villain Page 2