by Drew Hayes
There was a blast of fresh noise pollution as his radio seemingly turned itself back up to max volume. Glenn tried to mute it once more; however, this time his button manipulations had no effect. After a few seconds, the sound died on its own, and Glenn found himself thankful for at least the blessing of silence. His gratitude was very short-lived.
“Good evening, Glenn.” The voice came crisply over the radio, mild distortion making it impossible to place without interfering with its clarity. Glenn immediately glanced around for the walkie-talkie one of his douche friends had surely hidden in his car.
“You can look all you want, you’re not going to find anything.”
That was kind of creepy. Either the voice on the radio was watching him, or it had taken a very accurate guess at what he would do. Glenn tried to turn the radio off once more, but he wasn’t surprised when it failed to show any result.
“Real funny. Dan, I’m guessing you did this.”
“I’m not Dan, and this isn’t supposed to be funny.”
Glenn swallowed hard. He might not be able to make out the owner of the voice, but he could still hear the hatred that was seething in it. It was trying to scare him, and Glenn didn’t like other people trying to make him feel small.
“Oh yeah, well then you fucked up because it’s funny as hell. Sorry, man, but it takes more than some voice on the radio to scare me.” He’d barely finished this sentence when he noticed the car had begun to drift to the left. There was a concrete barrier only a few feet away, separated from him only by the small shoulder of a buffer zone. Instinctively Glenn turned the wheel to the right, only to realize that nothing happened. He jerked it hard this time and slammed on the brake for good measure. Nothing.
“Am I still funny, Glenn?”
Glenn felt that hot boil of anger in his stomach suddenly turn into ice. The car was still sliding left, inch by precious inch.
“Who are you? How are you doing this?”
“This is God.”
“Sure it is,” Glenn snapped. The car moved several inches over then pulled back to its leisurely slide.
“I control your future. I decide whether you live or die. My statement might be untrue to the rest of the world, but I’m God to you, Glenn.”
Glenn tried the wheel once more, not expecting to have any impact but twisting it furiously anyway. Whatever this person had done, they’d taken over his car completely. He tried the door and found it unwilling to unlock. Not even the window would roll down. Somewhere inside Glenn cursed himself for getting electric windows.
“What do you want?”
“Glad you’re finally ready to listen,” the voice said. The car pulled back into the lane and resumed a reasonable speed. “I want you to stay away from Jill Murray.”
“Jill? You hijacked my car just to break up me and my girlfriend?” There was a growl from the engine as the car accelerated swiftly.
“God works in mysterious ways. He also can see the future. And the past. Even the past that some courts will seal for minors. He knows about your temper. He knows how you need to maintain control, and how angry you get when you feel like it has slipped away from you. God doesn’t like the way you process your rage, Glenn. God is ending this one before it starts.”
Fury was beginning to overwhelm fear once more. Glenn slammed his hand on the dashboard and yelled at the mysterious voice. “Fuck you! I don’t know what you’ve heard but-”
The car whipped to the left, rushing across the shoulder and pressing against the concrete barrier. The sideview mirror was ripped away in an instant; the small bit that remained made sparks as it dragged against the cement wall.
“This is not a negotiation. This is a warning, the only warning you’re going to get. Her number has already been stripped from your phone. All calls and texts will be intercepted and responded to in an appropriate breakup manner. You will not go to see her. If she finds you then you will run away as fast as you can. If you should fail to heed any one of my orders then all that will be found of you is a totaled car that reeks of alcohol. No one will investigate, and no one will miss you when you’re gone. God has spoken.”
The car died all at once, righting its direction ever so slightly so it coasted away from the wall but stayed on the shoulder. Glenn’s heart was thundering in his chest, his hands clutching a wheel that had no bearing on what his vehicle did. He was dimly aware that his crotch was warm, and it would be at least ten minutes before he realized he’d pissed himself. The radio was the last piece to go dark, doing so only after one last message flickered out from the dimming system.
“Do. Not. Test. Me.”
* * *
Two miles away Will Murray sat on a lawn chair in a field next to a very strange miniature satellite. It was connected to a console system that would have boggled most minds at an initial glance and nearly all minds upon investigation. He powered down the system and rose from his perch, removing the microphone headset and setting it atop the satellite dish. Glenn would undoubtedly have his car searched top to bottom, but it wouldn’t do any good. The small node used to establish a remote link had already self-destructed into a pile of silver goo. Will couldn’t control electronics the way his sister could, but that wasn’t the same as not being able to control them at all.
As Will packed away his equipment, he wondered if this would be enough. He’d tried to be gentle, using fear over force. Last time there hadn’t been the opportunity for a gentle touch, but hopefully this would be different. Somehow, he doubted it. People like that weren’t ones to give up on what they considered to be their property without a fight. Nothing could be done about it. If Glenn pressed the issue... well, Will had given him fair warning.
Will finished packing and began dragging his things to the car. At least it was a pleasant evening. He wouldn’t even need to change; he could head right to the party from here.
100.
“They call you Lady Luck, but there is room for doubt. At times you have unladylike waaaay of running out.” Nick let off a quick wink to Alice as he tread casually across the stage, microphone in hand.
“Son of a bitch,” Alice swore under her breath, though none of the other attendees at her table had any trouble figuring out the sentiment of her mumblings.
People often forget that before it was tigers and magic and family-friendly casinos with roller coasters, Vegas was a place where a different sort gathered. It was smoky bars, mafia bosses, and legendary crooners. Those things still existed, of course, just not at their former levels. For one who grew up in the dusty desert town, those weren’t just phantoms of the past; they were roots meant to be respected. Nick had been dozing off to the recorded vocal magic of Old Blue Eyes since he was a baby. While no one would mistake the sunglasses-clad young man singing “Luck Be a Lady” for the immortal entertainer, it was evident he’d put in a lot of effort learning how to work his voice until it pleased all the ears lucky enough to be around it.
“I didn’t know Nick could sing,” Camille said as he belted out the final notes and set the microphone back on the stand.
“Me neither. And I’m positive Alice didn’t,” Vince replied.
The blonde girl was out of her seat before Nick got anywhere near his. With one hand on her hip she took the other and thrust a finger directly into Nick’s sternum. “You tricked me.”
“I said it was embarrassing. It is, having all these eyes worshipping me,” Nick shot back. His tone was defensive, but the smarmy grin plastered across his face said he knew exactly what he had done.
“I’m sure you must have been mortified, the way you pranced around up there.”
“Pranced? Now that’s just mean.” Nick pressed his hand across his heart to show how injured he felt. This led to him brushing Alice’s malice-filled finger that was still drilling into him. She jerked it back as if she were afraid it would be dissolved by his skin. There was a beat of awkward silence between them before Alice sat back down with a huff.
“Whatever. I s
hould have known better than to make a deal with you anyway.”
“I won’t disagree with you there,” Nick said cheerfully. “So, who is going next?”
* * *
“Where the heck is Glenn,” Jill muttered, checking her phone yet again. He had promised to only be a few minutes late, yet the food had already come and gone with no sign of her boyfriend. Even Will had finished his lab and shown up only half an hour late.
“Maybe he got sick or something,” Julia suggested helpfully. In truth she was a bit hungry for conversation; usually she would chat with Sasha, but tonight her super-fast roommate was preoccupied with staring at Vince and flipping through the book of song options. Shane and Chad were at their table, too, but they weren’t much at small-talk. Shane seemed distracted, and Chad was trying, unsuccessfully, to chip in with little blurbs.
“Maybe,” Jill said uncertainly. Her reverie was interrupted by Sasha, who slammed the song book shut with a surprising amount of gusto.
“Found one!” she declared, hopping up from her seat. “Chad, get your vocals warmed up, I’m going to go put our name in the queue.”
“Beg pardon?” Chad’s words might as well not have been spoken since the intended audience was already gone by the time they came out. He looked at the remaining girls with some uncertainty. All they offered up in return was half-hearted shrugs. Julia likely could have explained to him that Sasha had chosen a duet with a good-looking guy just in an attempt to make Vince jealous, however Chad’s befuddlement was the most entertainment Julia had gotten all evening and she wasn’t inclined to see it end just yet.
* * *
“So are you going to sing?” Vince asked Camille as Will mercifully finished butchering a classic Elvis song. He handed off the microphone to Selena, who was waiting stageside since she was next to perform. As she ascended, Sasha and Chad walked over from their table and took her place.
“Not unless someone puts a gun to my head, and even then I’m not making promises,” Camille hurriedly replied. “I don’t really flourish in the spotlight.”
“It’s not my favorite place to be either,” Vince admitted. He might have said more, but it would have been rude to chat over Selena’s singing when they were right by the stage. Her dark-brown eyes flitted through the crowd, landing briefly on Alex, then immediately turning away as the music began to swell. She’d chosen a relatively old one, a song from the nineties about a lost soul searching for its companion. Selena could have used her power to make everyone feel the sorrow as she sang, but she didn’t. She didn’t have to; her talent did that all on its own. Usually there was at least a bit of hushed conversation as someone performed. In that moment, as the heartbroken girl projected her sadness, there wasn’t so much as a peep.
It wasn’t until Selena sang the final note that anyone dared to move in their seats, and at that their first reaction was to applaud wildly. Camille looked over to Vince, intending to continue their conversation, when she encountered quite possibly the last thing she would have expected. A small pool of tears was glistening in Vince’s bright blue eyes, his vision still unwavering from the now-departing songstress.
“Vince?”
The silver-haired boy jerked with a start, as though he had completely let it slip his mind that there were other people around him. “I, um, um, well, this is a little embarrassing.” He fumbled around for a tissue, finding none on the cleared-off tables.
“There’s nothing wrong with the tears. It was a touching performance,” Camille reassured him.
“It was, but that’s not it,” Vince replied, still scouring for something to wipe with. At last he remembered Nick had made him stick a handkerchief in one of his jacket pockets just in case. After a few attempts he pulled it out, along with his pocket watch, from the one on his right front. “The song just reminded me of someone from a long time ago.”
“I see,” Camille said. She resisted the urge to bite her lip as Vince dabbed at his eyes. If she’d been a little less absorbed in his statement she might have heard the sudden movement behind her. It would still have been a stretch, because only a few people in the room were able to follow the burst of motion.
From Vince’s perspective all he felt was a sudden iron grip clamp down on his wrist. He glanced up to see Chad staring down at him, a sea of unspoken emotions contorting his face.
“Where did you get that?” Chad was never what someone would call warm, but his usual tone was positively bubbly compared to how he sounded now.
“The handkerchief?” Vince felt the grip tighten significantly.
“I am not playing games. Where did you get that watch?”
101.
“Chad, I think you’re hurting Vince.” Camille’s voice was a stark contrast to the uneasy silence that had fallen over the room when Chad gripped his classmate. Little was said, and tension could be sensed in the bodies of those around them, some worried about what was happening while others were ready to jump into action if the moment called for it. Chad could feel the stares of everyone centering on him, and ordinarily it would have been enough to make him take a step back. Not with this. Even the innocent concern of Camille only resulted in him slightly relaxing his grip, only barely enough to allow blood flow.
“I need an answer, Vince.”
“It was a gift from my father.” Vince had no idea what the hell was going on, but even he was smart enough to see that something was wrong with Chad. The blonde boy had always been reserved in his strength, never lording his superior power over the rest of the class. That didn’t make him perfect, however, and Vince knew firsthand that when someone with real skill lost control things could get very bad, very fast.
“A gift from your father.” Chad’s face looked like it might begin to turn green. “And who is your father, exactly?”
“The man who raised me. I never knew his name; he said he’d cast it away before we met. To me he was always just Father.” In truth, Vince would have preferred not to get into his past in such a public place; but, it seemed like there was no alternative other than to tell Chad the truth. Whatever was happening, lying was bound to make it worse.
“How did he get this?”
“Chad, maybe you want to calm down a little. I don’t think Vince’s history is really your business,” Nick said, eyeing the young man carefully. Hershel had held up a shot of whiskey and Mary had given him a curt nod, so Nick knew both of them were ready to go if things went south. Still, with Chad’s strength, he could rip off Vince’s arm before anyone could react, so diplomacy was currently the strategy of choice.
“How did he get this watch? When did he give it to you?” Chad could hear the other people in the room whispering, but they didn’t exist right now. His world had narrowed down to only himself, a boy with silver hair, and a gold pocket watch.
“All he told me was that it was a gift from a very dear friend. He passed it on to me when I turned thirteen.”
Chad’s eyes narrowed just a hair. “That’s a lie.”
“It’s what he told me.”
“Then he was lying!” Vince winced as Chad’s grip tightened involuntarily, his grimace of pain causing a shift toward readiness in the people nearest to him.
“It’s what he told me, and I don’t see why he would lie. I’ve told you what I know. Now tell me why this is so important.” Vince met Chad’s stare without wavering. There was sweat beginning to bead below his blonde hair and a small twitch dancing in his right eye. For someone whose power was bodily control to show signs of stress this obvious, there had to be a full-scale war waging inside him. At first Vince didn’t think Chad was going to respond. It was only after he felt the super-strength empowered hand release his wrist that Chad began his explanation.
“There are only two watches like that in the world. They were custom made by a man whose power was metal manipulation. They were sold to his apprentices, two young Heroes who had done their internships under him. Each bought one and then gave them as gifts to one another.” Chad
reached into his own suit jacket and produced a pocket watch that was a twin to Vince’s own. Had he not displayed signs of potentially coming unhinged, there might have been a gasp of surprise from the room. As it was, everyone just tried very hard to stay quiet lest they accidently stir his unstable state. Everyone, that is, except Vince.
“So, our fathers knew each other?”
“The watches were a symbol of their friendship, of all the hardships they’d endured together,” Chad said, ignoring Vince as he gazed down at the golden timepiece in his hand. “That’s what my mother told me, anyway. See, I didn’t get mine handed off to me like you did. I inherited it as part of my father’s estate.”
“He died?”
“He was murdered by the man who carried your watch!” Chad spat angrily. Dimly he was aware of a crunching sound. Had he looked down he would have noticed he’d just accidentally cracked the concrete floor by shifting his weight. He might have even cared, though by this point it would be hard to say.
“His partner! His best friend! That man drove a spike of energy through my father’s chest and left him to die in the street!”
“Oh shit,” Alice mumbled as she and Nick exchanged a glance. They hadn’t included it in the presentation, but they’d both read up about a man that died in such a way. In an instant they both knew who Chad’s father had been.
“Look, I don’t know what you think happened,” Vince began, but the speed at which Chad whipped his ever-maddening eyes toward Vince stilled the words on his tongue.
“I know exactly what happened. It was extremely well-documented and witnessed. The ‘Hero’ Globe murdered my father before turning on the rest of his team.” This time there were gasps, stifled gasps but gasps none the less. Everyone knew about that incident, but no one had ever realized Intra had a son.