The Dark Academy (Supervillain High Book 4)

by Gerhard Gehrke

  “Bug in position?” Brendan said softly.

  “We won’t miss a thing on our end,” Poser said. “But there’ll be plenty to miss if you don’t spike that drink. It can’t be that hard.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Brendan said. “You’re not the one with his cheese in the breeze.”

  “Buck up. This is your plan, remember? I’ll just tell the cops you strong-armed me into helping. Or Tina did. I was brainwashed and it explains my life of crime.”

  “Shut up,” Tina texted. “He’s almost there.”

  Brendan tried to catch his breath. It felt as if he had been running. “Maybe we need to test this stuff out. Make sure it’s not some poison.”

  “Too late for that, brah. Showtime. Play or pass. Get off the pot if you’re not going to—”

  Brendan took the microphone from his ear and put it away. He removed the bag and dumped its contents in the water. His phone vibrated, but he ignored it. The water looked cloudy. He stirred it and got the spoon out just as Agent Walters entered the restaurant. He came over and sat down, a wide smile on his face. Too late, Brendan realized the water glass with the drug was closer to him than his own.

  The agent took in the dated décor, heavy in red-and-gold vinyl wallpaper and brass peacock wall hangings. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t recommend your counselor attend our little talk.”

  “I can talk to you without him.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The waiter came by and the agent ordered an iced tea. Brendan asked for coffee, but they didn’t serve it. He said he’d be fine with water. He set down menus and left.

  “Any updates since we last spoke?” Agent Walters asked.

  “You mean has my dad contacted me? Or anyone pretending to be him? The answer’s no.” Both water glasses were close to Brendan, but the agent didn’t even touch his iced tea. Brendan picked up a menu. “Should we order something?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  The waiter approached as soon as Brendan put the menu down. Brendan ordered the Special #1 for Two without reading what it was. When his phone vibrated, he turned it upside down on the table.

  The agent just stared at Brendan, the pleasant grin never wavering. “This is the same restaurant where you claim to have spoken with your father’s twin. Is there a reason you chose this place?”

  “Good chow mein.”

  The agent nodded. “Of course. And since your dad or his double has not contacted you, what is the point of our meeting?” The ice in the drugged water glass shifted. Condensation clung to the sides.

  “I want to know more about what you know about my father. He’s been gone for so long. He left us in the lurch. I guess I’m hoping for some kind of read on who he is. I don’t trust what I see on the videos.”

  “Hmm. The videos. Where his criminal activities and their impact are glossed over in favor of highlighting his flamboyant costuming and his toys. I’ve always found it interesting so little attention is given to the trauma caused by actions like his last bank robbery. You might not believe the damage done to the customers and bank employees, even though none were physically harmed.”

  Brendan thought about the things he had seen on Not-Earth. He kept quiet.

  “Lingering psychological effects for years,” the agent continued. “And consider the erosion of the sense of safety in the community. With people like your father on the loose and the cast of characters poised to jump into the action once he resurfaces, it’s a constant tension, like knowing a terrorist bomb is going to go off on any given day. And yet these people are fed by views, hits, likes.”

  Brendan offered a shrug.

  “Indifference is just as bad. As long as it’s not my city, my street, my bank, it’s entertainment. Not even the very real bomb going off in New York City has curbed the world’s appetite for supers. Profiles on criminals like your father show us the worst in sociopathic behavior. Of course he left you and your mother high and dry. You don’t fit into feeding his ego. Family can’t hold a candle to notoriety.”

  “If you catch him, someone else will fill the void,” Brendan said.

  The agent sipped his iced tea. “Lock up and prosecute enough of them and the tide will turn. Hopefully before another revenge bombing kills more people.”

  Brendan nodded as if he agreed. There had been terrorists and mad bombers well before any supers had hit the streets. But he was surprised the agent was so pleasant, and he wondered when the prying questions would come.

  Their food arrived. Golden lumps of chicken in a glistening sauce, prawns with peppers, colorful chunks of vegetables with some sort of brown meat. Brendan moved the agent’s water glass over as if to make room for all the dishes. The agent’s attention remained fixed on Brendan.

  Brendan filled his plate even though the sweet and spicy smells didn’t do anything for his appetite. His stomach was in too big of a knot. He drank some water. The agent sipped more iced tea. “You said you were interested in anything my dad might have given me,” Brendan said.

  “As you can imagine, his weaponry falling into the hands of others is a concern.”

  Brendan took a bite of chicken. It wasn’t as spicy as he hoped, but there was a slight tingle. Maybe it would make the agent drink. “Try some, it’s good.”

  “I’m not hungry.” He had more iced tea as Brendan ate. The glass was still about two-thirds full of tea.

  One of the waiters came out of the kitchen carrying a cupcake with white frosting on a small plate. A sparkler on top burned and sputtered. He approached their table. “We wish you a happy birthday,” he said to the agent.

  The agent looked surprised, and then glared irritably at waiter. “Take that away,” he said. “You have the wrong table.”

  Brendan saw this as his chance. He picked up the glass of water and poured some into the iced tea. The waiter hesitated before departing, an inscrutable expression on his face. But he took the dessert with him.

  “Is this your idea of a joke?” the agent asked.

  “I don’t know what that was,” Brendan said. He slurped down some of his own water. The agent studied him for a moment and was about to drink from the iced tea when he paused. He looked at the water glass set before him. Some of the liquid had dribbled onto the table. He put the glass of tea down.

  “Perhaps you think this is all a game, Mr. Garza. Having a father who is a notorious criminal. Getting to talk to the law and engage in shenanigans. I imagine it earns you certain bragging rights. Street cred. Your role in all this has so far been nothing more than familial bystander. Same with your mother. But family relationships can be a hazy thing when presented to the right people in the agency. You see, family is the first place we go when looking for accomplices.”

  “Leave my mother out of this.”

  “Oh, not just her. You. You’ll want to think carefully here.” His toothy smile reasserted itself. “Locating him is just the start. I need everything you might have in the way of designs used by your father. Or his twin, if you’re sticking to that narrative. Parts. Prototypes. Even drawings or concepts he might have given you. We know you have some of these things and have used them for your own misadventures. I want it all. Anything your dad ever made, gave you, or mentioned. I don’t care if he was talking in his sleep and you were close enough to hear. Everything. Your cooperation will inform me as to the tone of our investigation going forward.”

  He stirred his tea with the straw and held it up to the light. He looked at Brendan as he set down the glass. “It’s a good thing I’m not that thirsty.”

  Brendan tried not to stutter. “I don’t have any of those things. It’s like I told you: I don’t know him. He’s never included me in his activities. Or my mom.”

  “If you surrender these things voluntarily, all of this, including me, might go away.” The agent leaned forward. His bright eyes bore into Brendan’s. “But if you insist on this course, it won’t go so smoothly for you or your mother.”

  Brendan met his star
e. “I told you to keep my mother out of this.”

  “I’d like to do exactly that. So don’t force my hand. As I said, we have evidence of you having in your possession drones, plans, designs—all things I find interesting. Don’t think your school and its attorney will protect you from what’s coming if you fail to comply.”

  He watched Brendan for a reaction. Brendan felt the overriding anger building inside him. He tried to breathe deep, tried to remember the tricks his therapists taught him, but none of it was coming to mind. He pushed away from the table.

  “Before you go,” the agent said, “take this moment in as the last time you had a choice which might lead to a happy outcome for you. You can cooperate. Come with me now, and share everything you might have. I promise that we will leave you and your mother alone. Perhaps we can even manage some sort of reward for information. Who knows? But the alternate path means standing in the way of an investigation.” He nodded towards the tea. “And if I have that glass analyzed, what will it reveal? They do have GED programs in federal youth camp, but if you’re tried as an adult, you’ll get to go to school with the big boys. And your mom will have regular visits for years from the FBI, ICE, IRS, and every other alphabet agency who can fit her into their schedule.”

  ***

  “Happy birthday?” Brendan asked. “Are you trying to get me arrested?”

  He sat with Poser inside the Bean, a coffee in front of each of them. Tina had gone back to school with an unspecified appointment to keep.

  “The waiter was supposed to get the rest of the staff together too, and they were going to sing. I guess my twenty only bought me a cupcake and a sparkler. You looked like you were in trouble. Why did it take you so long to spike his water?”

  “Because I was nervous. Although to be honest, I don’t know why. This wasn’t my first felony, if we’re considering actions on other Earths.”

  “They might have a hard time making those stick.”

  The coffee was hot, but Brendan sipped away. Poser took out his phone and unlocked it before handing it to Brendan. A video file was pulled up. Brendan played it. The vantage point of the drone on the ceiling was disorienting, but the audio was perfect. He listened for a moment before stopping it and handing the phone back.

  “I don’t know what this gives us,” Poser said. “Although it did sound like he was threatening you.”

  “It felt like I was the target of the investigation. Now finding my dad doesn’t even seem to be the priority. He’s interested in my dad’s tech.”

  Poser picked at one of his chewed fingernails. They were all painted black. “Understandable, from their perspective. If they think they’re going to have to arrest your dad, they’ll want all the advanced prep they can get. He’s never given himself up before. If they believe there’s two Myron Reeces, then they’ll need to plan for even more trouble.”

  “Maybe. But why not mention that? His focus was on acquisition, like he wants the tech itself. They could go to a dozen supers sites for analysis of Drone King’s weaponry.”

  “Drone King’s been out of the spotlight. I’m just being devil’s advocate, but wouldn’t you want to know the weapons of your enemy?”

  Brendan sighed. The noise inside the busy coffee house was a pleasant buzz. He had been there often enough to know the faces of the regulars. Everyone belonged. If the FBI came around, they would stick out like a sore thumb among the students and the casually dressed employees of nearby businesses.

  He finished his coffee too quickly and burned his tongue. “Well, I’m going to the lab. I have a football game this weekend to prepare for.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Poser said. “By the way, you owe me twenty dollars.”

  10. Offensive Line

  Dutchman Springs Academy had its own game that Friday, and Brendan surprised Tina by inviting her. They played on their home field, and much of the student body was in attendance. Even so, the visiting fans from East Coachella Valley High outnumbered them two to one. They had a full cheerleading squad who had both sides clapping by the time the teams came on the field. Like Cathedral Valley High, Dutchman Springs had an undersized team. Except for Tyler and a couple of other boys, the players looked tiny and even undernourished compared to quite a few members of the visiting team.

  Once Brendan and Tina had gotten comfortable on the edge of the bleachers, Tina handed him a bundle wrapped in green tissue.

  “What’s this?”

  “A present.”

  He tore into the paper and saw a Kelly green sweatshirt with a yellow cartoon cat baring its fangs. Cathedral Valley Cats, the logo read.

  “If you have to go into enemy territory, at least you can dress the part.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lucille appeared at the bottom of the bleachers. She was trying to walk up the metal steps but was having trouble keeping her balance. She scowled at a few students who brushed past her on the way to their seats. When she saw Brendan, she waved him down towards her.

  Tina dug fingers into Brendan’s arm. “If she needs to talk to you, she can come up here.”

  Lucille waved again and began to look irritated.

  “This’ll just take a minute.” He broke free from Tina and descended the steps.

  “You’re ready for tomorrow night?” Lucille asked.

  He showed her the sweatshirt.

  “This isn’t a game,” she said.

  “That’s exactly what this is. But yeah, we’re ready. We’ve been working all week on the programming. Whatever Cat Valley has going on with the ball, we’re going to do what we can to stop it.”

  He had expected her to ask about the meet with the agent, but she hadn’t spoken with him all week. When the coaches blew their whistles, she left him and found a seat just behind Tyler on their team’s benches.

  Brendan watched the Dutchman Springs coach as he spoke with his players. Then Tyler stood up and gave his own brief pep talk. They finished by huddling up and shouting “Win!” Tyler never once looked back at Lucille. He had never displayed quite the same neediness in her presence as Paul or Henry. Perhaps this was the best she could manage without any upstream water, her normal. Or maybe she had throttled back on her influence.

  The players all clapped in unison and donned their helmets. The teams met center field for the coin toss. Brendan returned to Tina and they watched the game.

  ***

  Tyler carried the team to a close victory, scoring all three touchdowns in a 24-21 win. The school’s band blasted out a mess of a victory song as the coaches and players lined up for a postgame handshake.

  “I can’t believe you made it through the whole thing,” Tina said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You always seem like you’re ready to pop lately. Do you want to talk?”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  “We’ve been through some serious stuff. We can’t expect to walk away from that without it affecting us. I was just thinking maybe you’d want to let me know what’s going on. Your fight with Tyler. That didn’t just come out of the blue. You’ve been edgy.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Poser hiked the bleachers and sat behind them. “Yay, team! Organized sports! Conformity! Did we win?”

  “Yeah, we won,” Tina said. “Where were you?”

  “Sorry I was late for glee club and the pep rally, but some of us have work. We have some high-stakes misconduct planned for tomorrow. Vlad’s still slogging away on code while you guys are out here playing kissy face.”

  She smirked. “Don’t worry, we were all business tonight.”

  Poser grabbed the sweatshirt from Brendan’s hands. “Oooh, subterfuge! I like it. Complements your skin tone.”

  Brendan took it back and tucked it under his arm. “Let’s not advertise what we’re up to, shall we?”

  They watched as celebrating students joined the team the field. Tyler was at the center of it, and Lucille was at his side.

  “We’re ready?”
Brendan asked.

  “Ask Vlad, but yeah,” Poser said. “Assuming this is the team you want to be playing for.”

  ***

  The Cathedral Valley campus was every bit as fastidious as Dutchman Springs’s. Lighting was ensconced behind small patches of cactus and tastefully arranged rocks. The walkways were brushed pink sandstone. The buildings all had strong lines and appeared to be the latest in sustainable architecture. Brendan couldn’t spot one piece of trash or graffiti.

  The football field was easy to see even from a distance, as it lit up the evening sky with a white glow. A small crowd trickled in and Brendan and the rest of the A.V. Club, along with a chaperone, moved along with it. Lucille had texted Brendan earlier to tell him she would make her own arrangements in getting to the game.

  They found a place to stand near the visitor bleachers. Brendan had changed his mind a dozen times on whether to wear the green Cat Valley sweatshirt Tina had given him. Now he regretted having it on. He stuck out like a sore thumb among the fans of West Presbyterian High School clad in black, silver, and white.

  “We should go to the other side,” Brendan said.

  “Don’t worry. Tina will protect you,” Poser said.

  Tina fixed Brendan’s collar. “Just try to calm down.”

  Vlad’s face was in his tablet. “This’ll have to do. There are so many variables. It might be easier to hack the Air Force and steal some of their combat drone programming. Wish you had kept Charlotte’s tablet with the downstream drone app.” He handed his tablet to Brendan.

  The players were warming up. Bull Johnson was front and center, doing high knee runs with the rest of the team.

  “Think it’s just steroids?” Poser asked. “Bionics? Norse god ancestry?”

  Brendan opened his pack and took out a zipped bag containing his smallest drones. “Get out of sight and set them up somewhere I can launch them without them being seen.” Poser grabbed the bag and left. Brendan reviewed the program on the tablet. Little was as he had originally written it. Vlad leaned in close and kept trying to make menu selections for Brendan every time he hesitated. “I need to learn this,” Brendan said. “This is my gig.”