“Well,” I sighed. “He’s brainwashed, right? But it really did seem like he believed it.”
“You have to get to the root.” Ivana took a handful of popcorn while counting her Monopoly money with one hand. “This is the way Hounds work. They find the fragile parts of your mind and make you believe something you never thought before. They can change anything.”
“But it can be reversed, right?” I glanced at Vanessa.
“Yeah, if they’re willing. Which, I guess, they aren’t usually.”
“For obvious reasons,” said Ivana. “How would you like if you found out that something you thought you believed was put in your head by someone else?”
Vanessa and I shuddered in unison, and Ivana tsked. “If that boy is all you two are going to talk about while you are here, Javier, I will make a ban on the subject.”
“I’m honestly trying to get over him.” I slouched in my chair. “I mean, he’s obviously either a fascist, or happily brainwashed. Or both. And I don’t want to be with a guy who’s either.”
“That’s good,” said Vanessa. “Standards are important. I have three hotels on that square, by the way.”
I sighed, and handed over what felt like all of my money. “So is it okay if I interview you for my project?” I asked Ivana. “It’s about the League.”
“Hmph. Depends what kind of light you are going to put the League in,” she said testily. “You have some sort of grudge against us right now, don’t you?”
“Not a grudge.” I shrugged. “I just feel like . . . they could do better.”
“Better like the Organization?” asked Vanessa.
“No!”
“Well.” Ivana rolled the dice, and picked up a card, frowning at it. “Ethics are pesky things, aren’t they? Why don’t you interview Captain Justice?”
I was shocked when Captain Justice actually agreed to meet with me for an interview. As if he didn’t have better things to do. I didn’t even know why I was doing it, except that it would probably guarantee me a better mark, and that was the least he could do for me. Besides that, some small part of me did want to put the League in a positive light, if for no other reason than to have some ammunition to use against Rick when he made little snide comments about the League.
“They don’t do anything,” Rick had said during a particularly heated argument that we’d had to take out to the picnic tables beside the library. “They’re just a way to make profit off people who actually want to do good.”
“So what, heroes don’t deserve to get paid for what they do?”
“That’s what the police are for! And anyway, crime still happens, whether or not you have people out in spandex fighting it.” Rick crossed his arms. “You have to treat the source, not the symptom.”
“Right, by taking over the world and forcing everyone to do what you want.”
“How is that different from the League?”
“Because it is!” I shouted. “Because the League doesn’t torture people, or brainwash them. At least they’re trying to do good.”
“Doesn’t mean they are, though,” said Rick. “You shouldn’t just blindly support them.”
It kind of threw me for a loop when Captain Justice had pretty much the exact same advice for me when I met him in his office for our interview.
“I encourage everyone to question the League.” He steepled his hands. “Unfortunately, lack of productivity is the price of encouraged dissent. The fact that you are not currently working for us, for example.”
I finished writing down lack of productivity is the price of encouraged dissent and looked up at him. “Did you ever want to quit?”
“I did,” he said softly. “I had thoughts that I could do better on my own, that the League was broken, that it had never worked. But . . .” He shifted in his seat. “There’s some part of me that strongly believes in the power of intent. A group of people truly dedicated to making the world a better place, even if a lot of the time we fall short of our goal, or we . . . make mistakes that hurt people.” He glanced at me. “That’s a group of people I want to belong to. I’m afraid I can’t speak for anyone else.”
I think he meant it as an apology for not being able to save Rick. And I felt bad suddenly, like really crappy, because it was obvious that he had tried really hard. He looked tired, sitting behind that desk, with that heavy cape hanging next to him, and I wondered how many people he’d tried and failed to save. How much weight was on his shoulders?
“What’s your superpowers again?” I asked. “I know it’s something about time.”
“I can manipulate time, yes.” He looked grateful for the change of subject. “Slow it down, freeze it. Even go back and change things.”
“How often do you do that?” I swallowed uneasily. How many times had he redone a conversation with me? How many times had that moment with Rick on the jet happened?
“Never,” he said, and I deflated with relief. “I occasionally freeze time, but even that can be dangerous. When I was young, I manipulated time on a whim, changed things constantly. Until I realized that every time I changed something, I created an entirely new universe, and unfortunately, I don’t have the ability to maintain universes. They all collapsed. Except this one, of course. I had to go back to the very beginning, to stop it all from happening.”
“Were any of those universes better than this one?”
He smiled at me sadly. “Of course. Every one.” He paused, and then cleared his throat, reaching forward to straighten some papers on his desk. “Is this good? For your paper? Or do you need more history? I can tell you almost anything you want to know, going all the way back to the sixties, if my memory holds.”
When I got home that night, I changed into a tank top, took my contacts out, and climbed up onto the roof. It was a bad idea to be going around with my markings showing and my eyes all glow-y, but it was so hard constantly having to cover myself up and hide how I really looked. I just needed a break. A chance to be myself.
And I had a lot of thinking to do.
It was both selfish and immature of me to expect the League to be the perfectly good entity that the media tried to make it out to be. When I’d joined, I’d thought that the League members were the good guys, and the Organization were the bad guys. But I knew now that there were no good guys, just people trying, and sometimes failing, to do the right thing. Maybe there were no bad guys either.
Except no, I knew there were. The people who experimented on Rick and probably countless others, who killed and hurt people when they were inconvenient, they weren’t good. And they weren’t trying to be, no matter what Rick thought.
I had abilities, gifts, whatever they were, and I knew deep down that I couldn’t ignore them forever. It was who I was, as much as the glowing blue marks on my skin and my attraction to muscly guys were. I had to choose, whether to use my abilities for personal gain, for power, or to try my best to do good, to do the right thing, even if I didn’t always get it right.
And that was what the League was. Not a perfect force for good straight out of a comic book. Just a group of people trying to do the right thing. And that was why I belonged with them.
“Javier?”
I turned to see both my parents scrambling their way up over the fire escape onto the roof, their bathrobes wrapped tightly around them.
“Careful.” I knew that in the dark shadow of the water tower, with only my glowing eyes and markings visible, I must look more than a little inhuman. “I’m not wearing like five layers and glasses. You might see something you don’t want to see.”
They picked their way across the roof toward me, and I kept eye contact with my mom until they were both standing right in front of me.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m sorry, I needed to think.”
“It’s not safe up here,” said my mom with a tight gesture.
“So go back down.”
“Is something wrong, Javier?” asked my dad, and I laughed.
I was sitti
ng on the little platform under the water tower, and my mom came and sat down next to me, my dad following. I inched away and bunched my shoulders reflexively, suddenly feeling self-conscious. My mom reached forward and touched my face, bringing my chin up so that she could meet my eyes. I don’t know how I must have looked. Scared, I guess, and a bit angry. I just wanted her to see me and accept me. I wanted to tell her that, but at the time, I couldn’t think of the words.
She hesitated for a few seconds, then smoothed my hair out of my face. She touched the markings on my arms, tracing them with her finger.
“Do they hurt?” she asked, and I shook my head.
“Not now.”
“But they’re the reason you keep getting hurt.”
“No!” I said. “Well, maybe, indirectly, but it’s mostly my fault for not thinking things through and for fighting people bigger than me. Mama, the point is . . .” I grabbed her hand, and made her look up at me again. “Do you know how many people’s lives I’ve saved in the last year?”
“We don’t care about people we haven’t met, Javier,” said my father. “We care about you.”
“It’s eighteen,” I said. “And those are just the people that I know for sure would have died if I hadn’t been there. Eighteen people. Maybe that doesn’t seem like a lot to you, but it does to me.”
“But what if you die, Javier?” My mom’s hand was tight on mine, and her voice was shaking. “What will we do then?”
I felt like my heart was breaking. “I’m sorry. But I have to. I just have to, please understand. It’s who I am.”
“It’s not fair,” said my father. “We should have had a son who was a coward.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again, my breath catching as I drew it. “I’m sorry that I’m not the way you want me to be, I’m sorry that I can’t change back—”
“Shush.” My mom brought a finger up to my mouth. “Don’t ever be sorry for that, cariño. You know, this is just something your father and I have to deal with.”
My dad nodded. “She’s right. And we’re sorry that it’s taken time, and that we hurt you in the process.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I mean, I’ve had a lot going on. I just . . .” I sucked in a deep breath, glancing away at the horizon, and then back at my mom. “I want to . . . be able to be myself with you guys. I know it’s not easy, but I want us to be honest with each other. And,” I said as they nodded, “I want to go back to the League. I want to keep trying.”
I had only been back to work as Blue Spark for a couple of weeks before I ran into Jimmy Black again. Official nemeses, us. Okay, so I’ll admit, this time it wasn’t entirely a coincidence. Rick and I had met up at the public library to do some more research for our project, and he’d gotten a suspicious call and had to leave. It was a good thing, anyway, since we’d just been arguing again. Apparently Rick had gone and interviewed an Organization member, since I’d interviewed Captain Justice. The guy he’d talked to was Black Orb, a retired villain who was a big deal in the seventies.
“He’s super mellow now,” Rick had told me matter-of-factly. “He lives at the Organization headquarters, and he gets a pension. I, uh . . . I asked him about the Hounds.”
“Really?” I was curious despite myself. “What did he say?”
“Uh.” Rick rolled his eyes. “That if I even know about them, they must not have as good of a hold on me as they think they do.”
“Seriously?” My heart started to beat fast, and I stared at Rick. “So he admitted they’ve done something to you?”
“Yeah, according to him. But, listen Javier, I don’t really care that much.”
“Of course you don’t! They’ve made you not care.”
“Maybe.” Rick shrugged. “Why’s it matter anyway?”
I had seriously never been more frustrated with a human being than I was with Rick in that moment. And it wasn’t even his fault. But I didn’t care.
“Rick—” I said loudly, too loudly for the library, and then of course, his phone rang.
He gave me an annoyed look and answered. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I can do that. I was just finishing up anyway.” He shoved his phone into his bag. “Gotta go.”
So yeah, I followed him. And there was a shiny black car waiting empty outside the library for him, and he got into it and drove off. Seriously, the Organization let Jimmy Black use one of their cars, and the League wouldn’t even give me a waterproof suit.
It was rush hour, and traffic was pretty bad, so I managed to keep track of the car, following along the rooftops until it stopped at an old row house. I watched from a rooftop opposite while Jimmy Black got out and went up to the front door. He knocked and waited, hands on his hips, until the door cracked open. Then he kicked it in and grabbed the guy who had opened it by the scruff of his neck, dragging him down the steps and shoving him into the back of the car. Or at least, tried to. I jumped off the roof and sprinted toward him, stopping him just in time.
“Are you serious?” growled Jimmy as the guy took off running down the sidewalk. He tried to go after him, but I stood in his way, aiming a shock-wave-reinforced kick at his kneecap that sent him rolling to the ground. “Don’t make me pummel you, Javier.”
“It’s Blue.”
“You followed me from the library. That’s against code, so I’ll call you what I want.”
“What were you going to do with that guy?” I asked as the man disappeared around the corner. Jimmy made an annoyed noise.
“If you have to know, I was gonna take him to a bank and make him take out money. He’s owed the Organization for like ten months now.”
“Really.” I crossed my arms. “That’s it.”
“Don’t believe me if you don’t want to, but yes.” Jimmy took a step toward the car.
I stopped him. “We need to talk. We really, really need to talk.”
“Why?”
“Because.” I sighed. “I need to get over you.”
He gave a forced laugh. “You’re not over me by now?”
That hurt. I ground my teeth. “Look, can we just go somewhere private and talk?”
“Yeah right. You’ll take me to the League.”
“We can go in your car.”
“How do you know I won’t take you to the Organization?”
“After the League voluntarily gave you up instead of capturing you again, the Organization kidnapping me would be a really, really bad move.”
“Sure,” said Rick. “If you think so.” He walked around to the driver’s seat and got in. “We’ll talk in the car.”
“Not in the car,” I said. “It could be bugged. Take me up to the point.”
This was it, I told myself. My last-ditch effort to get Rick to listen to me. To get him back. We drove up to a secluded spot a bit past the point, and got out to go sit on a bench, watching the sun set over the city.
“Okay,” said Rick. “I don’t see what you have to discuss with me that you couldn’t before, but let’s hear it.”
“I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that? Promise?”
“I have nothing to hide.”
“Do you still like me?”
The question seemed to take him by surprise. “Like that?” He paused. “Yeah, I do. But I don’t see how it could possibly work, since I see you’re back with the League now, which kind of makes us enemies in every way.”
“Why did you choose them over me?” I hated how pathetic and needy that sounded. “Why is it so important that you belong to that group, one that you know has hurt people and done terrible things?”
“Honestly? Because I did say I would be honest.” Rick leaned back on the bench. “I just feel . . . right with them. I feel at home. They’re like family, you know? You can’t betray your family. You just can’t.”
“But what about your real family?”
“What about them?”
“It’s just, the Raven told me that the Hounds work by getting into people’s heads and latching on
to the places where they’re fragile, so I thought—”
“Javier, honestly. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me. That’s the last time I’m going to ask.” Rick looked at me seriously, his eyes a deep and rich brown in the setting sun, even with the shadow of the mask over them. “I need you to get over me. Can you do that?”
“Why?”
“Because.” Rick waved his arm. “I can’t have these weird doubts and suspicions in my brain. I need to be able to focus on the Organization, and not think these kind of . . .” he gestured again, frustrated, “thoughts. I need you to give up on me, so that I can give up too.”
“Give up on what?”
“I don’t know.” He slumped. “Everything.”
“Oh god, Rick.” My voice broke. There were a million things I wanted to say, a million arguments that I knew he wouldn’t hear. “Please, please don’t.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said angrily.
“I’m not!” I leaned forward. “I’m asking. I’m begging you. I’m just . . .” I brought my hands up, clenching my fingers, wanting to grab him and never let him go. “I don’t want to lose you. I’m terrified that one day I’ll see you and they’ll have taken all of you away, and you won’t even recognize me anymore. I don’t want that to happen, because I—”
“Don’t.” Rick stood up. The sun had set anyway, and there really wasn’t much more to see. “I’ll drive you back to town. Just leave me alone, Javier. There’s no hope for me.”
Two nights later I got a call from an unknown number at three in the morning. I flailed around in bed and knocked my phone onto the floor trying to grab it, and ended up answering it while hanging upside down from my bed.
“Hullo?”
“Javier. It’s Rick. I don’t have much time, I’m calling you from a pay phone.”
I sat up, kicking to disentangle myself from the blankets. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m on a mission with the Organization. We’ve been sent to kidnap a lady, and bring her back for processing.”
“Processing? What’s that mean?”
Junior Hero Blues Page 15