by Drew Hayes
“So I’m the only one with issues,” Alice surmised.
“Oh, Princess, let me assure you everyone here has issues; they just aren’t all with me,” Nick corrected.
Alice snorted out a weak laugh. “I want to get past this,” she said. “I want to trust you, at least trust your core morality again. I just don’t know how.”
“Wish I could help,” Nick said. “Unfortunately, I’m the one person who can’t. Anything I say will seem suspect or manipulative, even if it’s the truth. So however you get past this, I doubt I’ll be the one to guide you.”
“You’re right,” Alice agreed. “Because I’m even asking myself if that little piece of basic logic is real or if it’s just a ruse to get me to drop the issue. Either way, it proves your point.” Alice rose from the seat and headed toward the door. “I’m sorry I bothered you. This is something I have to work through. And if I can’t... well, I trust Mary a lot. Maybe I can believe in her judgment enough to follow your directions by proxy.”
“Seems like a workable plan,” Nick said, unmoving from his perch.
“Best one we’ve got,” Alice said, giving him a brief smile. She left Nick’s room silently, pulling the door closed behind her.
Nick started to get back to his work again, then gave up and merely saved his progress. Instead, he layed down on his bed and stared at the bright bulb wedged into its socket above him. He lay like that for nearly an hour before he made any motion to turn off the light.
Nick truly hated anomalies.
33.
“You look like hell,” Blaine said flatly. The truth was, aside from his shackled appearance and somewhat dirty face, George looked pretty good for a man in maximum lockdown. He showed none of the usual distresses of someone who has lost all hope of ever seeing sunlight again. That was disturbing to Blaine, because the only explanation was that the current captive didn’t intend to stay that way. If it were someone else, Blaine might have suspected delusion, but if there was one thing one could say about George, it was that he was a realist.
“If that’s true, then hell never looked so good,” George snapped back. He didn’t bother following Blaine with his eyes as the bespectacled man walked around the room. If Blaine was the kind of man to attack someone who was helpless then it was going to happen and no amount of watching would stop it. Besides, he’d seen his former employer a few times since his incarceration and things had yet to get physical.
“Funny. The guards treating you well?”
“We’re up to beatings three times daily. If they keep working at it they might even leave a bruise on me by Christmas.”
“Oh, that legendary George Russell toughness. You always have been notorious for your durability. That’s part of what made you such a good teacher.”
“Cut the shit, Blaine. Of all things I know you might be here for, complimenting my teaching skills isn’t one of them.”
“Kidnapping and assaulting students does sort of mar your previous credentials,” Blaine admitted.
“Hey, I just kidnapped. They’re the ones who assaulted me.”
“Assaulted you in an effort to retrieve the friends you had stolen away from them.”
“I didn’t say they didn’t have good reason. I just said they threw the first punch,” George pointed out.
“They also threw the last one, seeing as they beat you.”
“How kind of you to remind me.”
“As if you’d ever forget a loss. Assuming you even count it as one.”
George showed no outward reaction to Blaine’s words. Nevertheless, Blaine felt something in the bound man shift.
“No sense in pretending otherwise. They got me, fair and square,” George said with an attempt at what might have been a shrug.
“You know, I’ve read through the reports about the incident dozens and dozens of times. Several things keep standing out to me. If you were really bent on taking Mary at all costs, why bother breaking Hershel’s arm until he let go? With your strength you could have just ripped it off of his body.”
“Damn, Blaine, what do you take me for?”
“A man who will do anything to accomplish his mission. Don’t forget, I know your full file from your Hero days as well. Something like that certainly wouldn’t have been beyond you. You could have done that, you could have incinerated Roy as he clung to you, and I feel fairly certain you could have taken down Vince with a single punch. All of which brings us back to you losing.”
“People get overconfident. I thought I could get away without doing permanent damage. I was wrong.”
Blaine completed his revolution about the room and stopped in front of George so the two could see one another’s eyes. It made sense; it was certainly logical to believe that even if a man like George was coerced into kidnapping, he would be reluctant to harm his own students beyond the necessary. It held together well, except if someone knew the real George Russell. If they knew how he changed in a battle, if they understood his tunnel vision on eliminating his enemies. His Hero moniker, Relentless Steel, hadn’t been chosen because of his easygoing ways.
“How many times does this make now, George? Five, six, something like that? I’m beginning to lose count, and I’m really getting tired of flying goddamn coach to spend my weekend chatting with you. Sooner or later you’ll break and tell us who gave you the orders. Things can get better when you do, so what are you holding out for?”
George smiled, not at Blaine, but at no one in particular. It was just a smile at having something other people didn’t have, at holding a secret you knew would be priceless if it were to be released. That smile told Blaine more than he really wanted to know.
“I suppose I’m just too stubborn for my own good,” George said without emphasis.
“No one is coming for you, George, and even if they were, it wouldn’t matter. You know how well fortified this place is. Breaking in and stopping ten Heroes is impossible, even by our standards of impossibility.”
“Could you do it?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Come on, Boss, oh legendary Hero,” George said with a touch of venom. “Could the great Zero break in here and set someone free?”
“No. Not even I could break in here,” Blaine said forcefully.
“Then as long as there isn’t anyone out there stronger than you, I guess you’re right,” George replied.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing at all, Boss. Only mulling over an old adage. How did it go? ‘There’s always someone better than you’ or something like that. Just saying.”
Blaine had an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. It was nothing more than a suspicion, but it was gnawing at him fiercely. The truth of the matter was that when he graduated the HCP, he hadn’t been top of the class. No, Blaine Jefferies had only been ranked third. Not that it mattered anymore. What he said was still true. No one could break into this place. No one who was left, anyway.
“I suppose you’ll cling to whatever delusion gets you through the days,” Blaine said. “I’m done playing these games. I thought you might respond more amiably to someone with whom you have a bit of trust, someone who could make things better for you. I see now I should have left you to the professionals from the beginning. I’ll let the guards know to send word if you ask for me. Other than that, I won’t be coming back anymore.”
“Finally. Now that I won’t be getting interrupted maybe I can finally make some progress on my pottery project,” George said.
Blaine paid the ribbing no attention. He merely turned around and began heading for the door.
“Hey, Blaine,” George called as his former boss was almost at the threshold. “I’m supposed to pass along a message. You still owe him fifteen dollars for getting those tea stains out.”
Blaine paused, only for a moment, and then exited with all the haste he could muster. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world - certainly not as horrible as his gut had been insisting - but George’s words still meant so
mething bad. After all these years, another graduate from The Class of Legends had resurfaced.
The dean of the Lander HCP hustled down the hall. He was catching the next flight back and the board could go fuck itself if they had an issue with the price. There was too much to do, too many people to reach out to. George had confirmed something that Blaine had always known would happen eventually. Raze was back, and he was already moving behind the scenes.
34.
The Rencroft building was named after Albert Louis Rencroft, a particularly bold (underhanded) investor who had helped finance several institutions of money management. This building had been one of his final projects in life, a glorious skyscraper that looked as though it had been forged of metal and glass rather than merely constructed from them. It practically glowed as the setting sun’s rays reflected in its gleaming surface, serving as a mecca for both students in architecture and art alike to come marvel at its beauty and draw inspiration. Tonight, however, it drew a somewhat different crowd.
“Vince, stop messing with your collar,” Nick scolded.
“Sorry,” Vince said, letting his hand drop. He wasn’t used to wearing things with collars, let alone the stiff, starchy collar of a freshly laundered button-down. Nick had helped him choose and prepare his outfit, the blue shirt that was bothering him and a pair of black slacks, citing the fact that since this was a fancy event he needed to break his usual fashion monopoly of t-shirts and jeans. Nick had chosen grey slacks and a black shirt with soft purple pin-striping for himself. It danced closer to his actual tastes than was likely safe, but Nick figured that, given the unusual circumstances, he could slide by without issues.
The girls all wore dresses, though Alice and Selena’s were a bit more risqué than Camille and Mary’s: Selena’s was silver with a tightness near the bottom that highlighted her assets, while Alice’s was a red piece that crossed in the front and drew attention to her chest. If Alex was at all bothered by the eye-grabbing nature of his girlfriend’s garb, it didn’t show. He grinned broadly as he held the mocha-skinned girl’s hand during their saunter through the parking lot.
Hershel held Mary’s hand as well, the two more demure in their affection than Alex and Selena, yet no less heartfelt. It occurred to Vince that if things had gone differently, he’d be embracing Sasha right now. He felt a pang in his gut and tried to turn his attention elsewhere. This was a night of fun, after all. Thomas, Violet, and Stella would be meeting them at the top floor and the group could proceed to dance the night away just like regular students.
After a long wait in line and exchange of money at the entrance, the crew was treated to quite a sight through the large oak doors separating the central room from the lobby. The area was huge, an entire floor devoted solely to serving as a party venue. There were bar stations set up at each corner of the room, along with kegs positioned at seemingly random junctions to keep the alcohol flowing freely. There was already a crush of bodies in the central part of the room despite the early hour, their shoes nearly obscuring the hardwood floor that indicated its function as a dancing area. Music was pumping from the walls, but more subtly than at most of the clubs the group had frequented. This was a place that encouraged conversation as well as alcohol consumption.
“Wow,” Alex said as he took in all the sights. “Is this what normal college people get to do all the time?”
“Pretty sure even outside our curriculum this isn’t an everyday event,” Hershel clarified.
“Point of fact, it’s one of the biggest parties of the year,” Selena told them. “All the frats have one. There’s the Halloween party, this one, the St. Patrick’s day bar crawl, the Cinco De Mayo rager, the Easter keg blitz, the-”
“Hang on,” Vince interrupted. “I admit I’m not really used to this kind of thing, but how is Easter a drinking holiday?”
“You spend a long weekend with your family on your best behavior while being dragged around in your Sunday finest and often stuck entertaining small children,” Nick said. “From my point of view, it provides a multitude of reasons to drink.”
“Amen,” Selena mumbled under her breath.
“And speaking of, all this talk is making me thirsty. Anyone else want a drink?” Nick asked.
Selena, Alice, and Alex all raised their hands.
“I’ll come with you,” Vince said. “I could use some water.”
“Pretty sure water is that line over there,” Mary said, pointing to a small stand with only a few people milling about it.
“Thanks,” Vince said, heading over without batting an eye. If it bothered him to be one of the few non-drinkers at a party devoted solely to that act then his face certainly didn’t let it show. Nick headed toward one of the longer lines and the rest of the group went looking for their friends or a table, whichever they stumbled across first.
Vince stood patiently in line, receiving a clear cup with an equally clear liquid inside of it. He grabbed a few more in case anyone at the table wanted some as well then turned around to look for his friends. What he found staring back at him was a set of familiar facial features, a configuration he never would have expected to encounter in this setting.
“Oh, hey, Chad,” Vince greeted.
“Good evening,” Chad said politely. “I see you’re not joining in the alcoholic revelry either.”
“Yeah, not really my thing,” Vince said.
“Nor mine. A body should be looked after and kept fit, in my opinion, and that means avoiding things precisely like alcohol.”
“That makes sense, I’m just not really a fan,” Vince agreed. “Truth be told, this whole scene is a bit foreign to me. It’s where the team wanted to go.”
Chad raised an eyebrow. “Your whole team is out here this close to Monday’s... test?”
“Sure, we decided we needed to relax a little after all the hard work. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Chad shook his head. “This is merely part of an arrangement I made. I agreed to chaperone someone in exchange for her assistance training my team.”
The word “Who” was literally halfway out of Vince’s mouth when a blonde in a shimmering gold dress practically materialized at Chad’s side. She sported a glass of wine in one hand and a frosty mug of beer in the other.
“There you are,” Angela DeSoto said, bumping Chad’s shoulder with her own to draw attention. “I swear, it takes you longer to get water than it takes me to make water, and I have to deal with the ever-present line at the girl’s room. Hey, silver-haired kid, how’s it shaking?”
“Pretty good,” Vince said uncertainly. “You’re the chaperone from last year’s river trip, right?”
“Yup, and the hostess with the mostess, not to mention widdle Shane’s big sis,” she confirmed. “Sorry to break up your conversation, but I didn’t bribe big, blonde, and muscly here to come along and not move me around the dance floor.”
“I believe your exact words were that you ‘wanted to dance but didn’t want a dude who was going to get all gropey after two beers’,” Chad informed her.
“Well, are we dancing? No, so let’s get you some freaking water, set it down at the table, and light that floor on fire. That’s a metaphor, silver-kid, don’t go pyro wrecking everyone’s night.”
“What? But I-I would never,” Vince began sputtering.
“Ease up, kid, I’m just messing around,” Angela assured him. “Freaking A, you’re as easy as this one.”
“Perhaps it would be better to direct your energies toward dancing,” Chad said, easing her away. “Nice seeing you, Vince.”
“That’s what momma is talking about. Later, Vince, try ditching the water and having a little fun at some point,” Angela called over her shoulder.
Vince merely chuckled to himself and went to find his friends. It was good to see someone as serious as Chad being forced to take part in some light-hearted activities.
35.
Since nearly his first day at Lander, Vince had been engaged in some phase of th
e courting process. Initially it was friendship, then tentative dating, then of course the actual manifestation of a relationship. The point being that until the end of his freshman year, he had attended every social event with either the physical presence of a romantic partner or the moral obligation of having one. On this night, Vince was realizing for the first time what it was like to be single and in a large social setting. It was largely the same from a logistical standpoint, yet somehow it felt... lonelier.
It’s not to say that he was excluded or the only single one; quite the opposite, really, since Hershel, Mary, Alex, and Selena were the only dedicated couples in attendance. However, he was used to having a conversation separate from the group at outings like this, a private world that could lead him to the dance floor or to the bar or merely draw him into it as he sat in place, briefly walking away from the larger group dynamic to a more intimate one. That was gone now, and Vince found himself missing it nearly as much as he missed Sasha, which was still quite a bit.
As for the others, they seemed to be having their usual amounts of fun. Hershel and Mary were talking quietly, Selena and Alex twirling around the dance floor (or twirling as much as one could with the limited space and large population), Thomas, Violet, Stella, Nick, and Alice were all engaged in boisterous conversation, and Camille was listening silently but attentively. Something about that girl pricked at Vince’s memory. He’d thought he had put it to rest when he recognized her as the healer from Jill and Sasha’s match, yet a bit of his brain continued to tingle when he looked at her. He shrugged it off, as usual, and let his attention wander.
“Man, I would never have guessed a girl that scary could drop it that low,” Nick noted as Angela took it to the floor and Chad looked strikingly uncomfortable. “And to see it wasted on such a fuddy-duddy. For shame.”