by Drew Hayes
“How do you-”
“Oh, come on, it’s not that hard. The girl never even glances at him unless she absolutely has to, and when she does it looks like she just swallowed a live chicken that’s trying to work its way free. She blushes every time he’s in vicinity of her, and she gave up being a number one draft pick to join us. Frankly, it’s so obvious that really anyone could tell if they paid attention. Anyone other than Vince, I mean.”
“I suppose so,” Mary agreed. “I’m a little disappointed in myself for not knowing until today. I mean, I listened to her after we all huddled and... wow. I’ve never seen so much appreciation and dedication. I don’t know what the whole story is, but Vince must have done something incredible to leave an impression like that on the girl.”
“Though it pains me to sound so optimistic, that wouldn’t be much a stretch to believe, given that it’s Vince,” Nick said begrudgingly.
“Why, Nick, it almost sounded like you were showing faith in your friend for a moment there,” Mary teased.
“Moving on,” Nick said. “Alex was chosen for similar reasons, personality-wise. He is accustomed to being an outcast and has a high level of loyalty to our group. That will keep him from buckling under the coming pressure.”
“Yes, but the same could be said for Thomas, who would have brought abilities we didn’t already possess as well,” Mary pointed out.
“Thomas would have been good,” Nick conceded. “ However, the reason I chose Alex is precisely because we already have abilities similar to his. You see, you and he are the only people with any telepathic talents in the class, correct?”
“So far as I’m aware, yes.”
“You are. Which means our team now has on it the only people capable of hearing other students’ thoughts. While that does give us duplication in some respects, it does something far more important. It robs our opponents of any mind-reading. We are the only team that doesn’t have to worry about our strategies and plans being overheard, and we are the only ones who can pluck those same ideas from the brain of our opponents.”
“Ohhhh,” Mary said, comprehension dawning. “So it wasn’t about having Alex as much as it was about taking him away from everyone else.”
“Exactly,” Nick said. “Whether the team matches are maze-style encounters like our midterms or just out and out brawls, the ability to know our opponents’ actions before they make them is invaluable. Plus, Alex isn’t entirely duplication. He can do some things you can’t.”
“Such as?”
“It’s commonly understood that telekinesis can’t stop energy, right?”
Mary nodded. “There isn’t enough mass for us to interact with.”
“You should talk to Vince sometime about his and Alex’s fight with Thomas. I think you’ll find Alex has his own potential uses beyond just a backup for you.”
“I’ll do that. So tell me something, o ye who commands we pawns. You saw the other team compositions while we were in the gym, what do you think our chances against them are?”
“Better with some than others. Shane’s team is combat heavy; I mean, he got Stella, Violet, and Thomas, so if we’re put in a pure fight against them we’ll be in trouble. Britney’s is the inverse, more stocked with unique technique users like Gilbert and Adam. They’d have the upper hand if we did games that didn’t require conflict. Chad’s team is the closest to ours. He chose a good mix of both combat- and technique-oriented students so that he’s got a viable game plan for any situation.”
“So we have the best shot against his team?” Mary asked.
“Oh no, the worst. He composed his in the same style as ours, but with much stronger people. Rich, Sasha, Selena, we are talking about some Supers that are not to be taken lightly,” Nick explained. “As it stands now, we’d have no chance of winning against his team.”
“Hmm. I suppose that only leaves us with one option,” Mary surmised. “We have to get stronger.”
“Indeed we do,” Nick agreed. “Training starts tomorrow, so get some rest. I promise, it will challenge you in ways you never expected.”
Mary was tempted to peek into Nick’s mind and see just what he had in store, but she thought better of it. She had a feeling that whatever it was, hearing about it this late would not be conducive to a good night’s sleep.
12.
Nick flipped the cards onto his desk again, staring at the hand before him with a frown. There was no doubt about it: his assessments were spot on, but in a way he wished they weren’t. He might have liked to take solace in ignorance, to quiet the machinations of his ever-ticking mind. Since that option was not presented to him, he instead looked at the other hands on the table. There were four of them, each different from the last. The arrangement would have seemed random to anyone else, which indeed was why Nick had chosen this medium for physical observation. The others didn’t need to know what he knew, not yet anyway.
They needed to bond first, and bonding meant spending time together in high spirits. High spirits were best sustained when one believed they had a significant chance of victory. Nick would have to crush those hopes soon, because as it stood the hand before him was the weakest one on the table. That meant if they were hoping for a real shot at victory there was only one course for them: changing the cards.
Nick set down the remainder of the deck and checked the time. People would start arriving soon. He needed to get ready. If things went to plan, he could use tonight to get people bonded and to lay a bit of the groundwork they’d need for the tasks ahead. If they didn’t... well, given the number of backups Nick had in mind, it would be quite extraordinary for things not to go according to at least one plan. He reached into his closet and pulled out a dark-colored button-down. He’d gotten most of the prep work done during the day; however, he still had a few tasks left.
* * *
Camille stepped nervously into the Melbrook common room to find all the others already gathered. She hadn’t been sure what Nick meant by “dress nice” so she’d changed outfits several times trying to strike the right chord. Initially she’d gone with a white dress that went to her calves, but she’d opted against it in case the night’s activities required any extensive movement. Eventually she’d settled on a light green blouse and jeans. Looking about the room at the range of clothing, from Alice’s pink dress to Alex’s flip-flops, she decided she’d struck a good medium.
“And at last, we are all assembled,” Nick declared, gesturing to the short girl’s entrance.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said weakly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mary said. “Alice only got out here around two minutes ago.”
“I had to find the right shoes,” Alice defended.
“How do you know which shoes are the right ones? You don’t know what we’re doing,” Mary pointed out.
“Thus I selected the ones that were utilitarian in function and adorable in looks,” Alice shot back. “On that note, what are we doing tonight? Now that Camille is here will you finally tell us?”
“I’d be happy to, once we arrive,” Nick replied with a smile. “For the trip we’ll need to split up into three vehicles. I’ll drive, Alice will drive, and I believe Alex has a car as well.”
“I’ve got a Focus that’s a few years old,” Alex confirmed.
“We’ll do our best not to hold that against you,” Nick said. “To the cars!”
“Don’t you need to tell the drivers where we are going?” Vince asked.
“Nope! Just follow my car!”
“This seems kind of weird, even for him,” Alice whispered to Mary as the group filtered out the front door.
“Leave it be, I’m sure he has something in mind,” Mary said.
Alice raised an eyebrow. “Did you peek?”
“No, but I mean, it’s Nick. For all his excessive eccentricity, he always has a goal behind the things he does.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Alice sighed. She wished Mary was a little less correct in that asses
sment.
After some quick debate, the cars were stocked with passengers. Alice, Mary, and Roy piled into Alice’s car. Camille joined Alex in his, leaving Vince and Nick to rely on the Volkswagen for transportation.
* * *
The knock on Dean Blaine’s door was loud and pronounced. The educator glanced at one of the many monitors hooked up to the closed-circuit camera system to see who his guest was. Despite the everyday appearance of the four-bedroom home a few blocks from campus, Dean Blaine’s house was a fortress of security. Concealed cameras covered all areas of his perimeter, the charming bay windows housed glass of a thickness rated “rocket-resistant”, and his doors and walls were all reinforced with sheets of steel in their centers. Some might have considered it a bit of overkill. Those people had never worked as Heroes. The ones who were lucky enough to retire had to take precautions to make sure they lived long enough to enjoy it.
In this instance, Dean Blaine had little to fear from his weekend caller. He unbolted the front door and swung it open, revealing Sean Pendleton dressed in a pair of slacks and a black silk shirt.
“I couldn’t get you to dress this nicely for the first day of meeting students, but you’ll do it to intrude on my time off?”
“Now don’t be like that, Blaine,” Sean said, a cheerful smile plastered to his face. “There was a time when we tore up the town on any given weekend.”
“That time was long ago, and with a much larger group I might add. And you can call me Dean Blaine. You’re an employee now, need I remind?”
“I am indeed, but we’re off the clock,” Sean pointed out. “Besides, I come bearing gifts.” From behind his back Sean produced a small but very nice bottle of scotch.
“Dare I ask how you acquired it?”
“I did have a savings account with legitimate funds before my incarceration,” Sean said. “So what do you say, shall we have a drink then perhaps go out on the town for old times’ sake?”
“Are you really that bored?”
“Dreadfully so, I’m afraid,” Sean lied. “There’s little action to be found in this town when one is on the side of authority.”
“Fine,” Dean Blaine acquiesced. “You can come in for one glass of scotch. Just one.”
“You haven’t changed a bit, dear boy,” Sean said, stepping into the tastefully decorated living room. “Still always willing to put yourself out to cheer up a friend.”
Dean Blaine shut the door and bolted it behind Sean. He let the comment pass without objection, though he couldn’t help noting just how wrong Sean was. Dean Blaine knew himself quite well, and he knew he had definitely changed in their time apart.
He just wished he knew if it was for the better or not.
13.
The bottle was nearly empty as Blaine topped off both their glasses. His head had a pleasant swim about it, not quite so much that his senses were yet on leave. It was more that they were on a coffee break: not immediately active but ready to spring at a moment’s notice, if called. It was the stage of intoxication he liked best, and one he rarely went past.
“Scotch,” Sean said, tasting the word as much as the drink. “This is one of those things you expect not to notice how much you miss in prison. Then you get out and it’s like a shock to the system, you didn’t even know how much you wanted some. That, by the way, is a crock of shit. I was keenly aware of how much I missed this and a thousand other little pleasantries from the outside world.”
“And yet it took me ample convincing to get you to leave,” Blaine pointed out.
“You’ll forgive my hesitation. Our last encounter wasn’t exactly one that captured the pinnacles of our friendship.”
“Sean... well, I can’t really say I’m sorry, given what you were doing. I still wish it hadn’t had to be me that brought you in.”
“I understand, Blaine. In the end it had to be someone from our class, and given all that’s unfolded since then, perhaps I was lucky to be snared by Zero after all.”
Blaine shook his head a little. “Of all the futures I imagined when we were enrolled here at Lander, I must say this wasn’t one of them.”
* * *
“Open the door!” Sean yelled, his voice muffled by something. Blaine and Gerard both stood from the table, but Victor had already been up getting a drink, giving him the advantage of position. He flung open the flimsy apartment door to reveal Sean, arms loaded down with a case of beer and assorted snacks. He had a bag of chips in his teeth, which accounted for the distortion in his speech.
“About time,” Victor thundered. No matter how often Blaine and Gerard tried to explain to him that they had neighbors who were partial to silence, the barrel-chested young man was never quite able to restrain himself fully.
“Maybe if I’d had a little help I could have made better time,” Sean snapped, wobbling through the entrance under the burden of his load.
“Maybe if you were better at poker you wouldn’t have lost last week and been tasked with snack duty,” Victor fired back, one of his ham-sized hands delicately plucking a fresh beer from the case to join the one he’d already gotten from the fridge and drank halfway down. Blaine and Gerard got up to help Sean unload, a relatively quick process consisting of putting chips on the counter and beer in the fridge. With the food settled, they sat down at the small kitchen table and Gerard began to shuffle. His bony fingers were shockingly delicate and deft, rearranging the order of the cards with exemplary speed.
“What we need are fresh players,” Sean proposed, settling into his own seat and popping his weary back. “That way I’m not always getting my clock cleaned by you guys.”
“We’ve invited everyone in our class,” Blaine pointed out. “Then again, we’re seniors now, so the environment is leaning more toward outright competitive than friendly.”
“In fairness, that’s not true of everyone,” Gerard pointed out. “Phil and Joshua aren’t avoiding us out of malice; they simply prefer to spend their time training.”
“Not to mention Phil is such a Boy Scout he’d never play poker. And wherever Phil is, that’s where you’ll find Clarissa,” Victor added. He held himself back from the sigh that wanted to escape his lips. That girl was so breathtaking, yet all she ever seemed to do was follow after Phil like a puppy with an oblivious master.
“Casper comes to some of our other stuff,” Sean said.
“Yes, but he refuses to take part in anything involving gambling. The tenants of his faith label it a sin,” Gerard expanded.
“And of course Marianne has been dating that guy for the past couple of months,” Sean said.
“A Super like her with a human. Such a waste,” Victor said with a shake of his head.
“Love doesn’t draw distinctions between those with and without abilities,” Gerard said, his quick hands now doling out the cards one by one. “Now, how about we cease lamenting those who aren’t present and focus on the game with those who are?”
“Fine, fine,” Sean said, looking at his hand. The game was five card draw, and it was not starting out well for him. “So, you guys nervous about the final exam in a few weeks?”
“Terrified,” Blaine said immediately.
“Hell, I didn’t mean you, Blaine. Of course you’re going to make the cut.”
“Nothing is certain in our world,” Gerard corrected him. “Though I agree that there is a very high likelihood my roommate will gain the title of Hero.”
“I’m definitely going to be one,” Victor declared loudly. “No matter what they throw at me, I can handle it.”
“Oh? So what’s the plan if they make you square off against Blaine, or Joshua, or Phil?” Sean asked.
“Obviously it’s a secret,” Victor replied. “I can’t just go telling you what my strategy is with Blaine right there.”
“I can leave the room if you like,” Blaine offered.
“No, no, that’s fine. I’ll just keep it to myself, thank you very much,” Victor said hastily.
Sean smiled. Despit
e his big talk and boisterous nature, Victor was actually a pretty solid guy to have on your team. He really hoped the lummox made it through. As for his own chances at graduating, he evaluated them about half and half.
“For me I think it comes down to what the test is,” Sean speculated. “In the right environment I can be quite impressive. In the wrong one I can look useless.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No one who looks useless makes it this far,” Blaine said. He set down two cards, which Gerard swept into a pile before doling out two fresh ones.
“Everything is relative,” Sean said. “Compared to some of the heavy hitters out in the world, all of us would look pretty weak.”
“Then let us be thankful none of them are enrolled at Lander,” Gerard replied, setting a small set of chips in the center. There were monetary values ascribed to the chips, just not nearly at the standard denominations. With a buy in of only five dollars, the game wouldn’t last too long without the ability to bet low values.
Victor raised by ten cents, Sean checked, and Blaine raised by another five cents. Each was so focused on the game laid out before them that they nearly jumped in surprise at the knock on the door. Blaine and Gerard exchanged curious glances. They weren’t expecting any other players to tonight’s game.
“Maybe someone decided to join us at the last minute?” Sean tossed out.
Blaine rose from his seat and crossed the short distance to the door. He pulled it open to reveal a pretty girl with wavy blonde hair.
“Hey, Blaine,” she said cheerfully. “My stupid brother forgot his wallet in my car after getting the groceries. I came to drop it off.”
Blaine stepped aside to allow entrance, giving the girl a greeting smile.
“Hey, Shelby,” Victor called.
“Good evening, Shelby,” Gerard greeted. “Would you like to join us?”
“No, thanks,” she said, making her way to Sean. “I just figured someone might need this when he loses again and has to pay up at the end of the night.” She held out a slim black piece of leather, which Sean accepted bashfully.