by Kai Strand
When Sandra and Source broke him out of the cell where Mystic had him chained up, Jeff was shocked to find the strange mix of supers battling Mystic and her minions. He’d waded into the thrall ready for battle, but as soon as he’d seen Oceanus, everything clicked into place for him. Prior to his abduction, Jeff waged an inner battle over good and bad. He tried to deny his increasing affinity for goodness, yet remained unable to tame his ever-present delinquent behavior. When Jeff saw Oceanus standing in the middle of the melee, he’d known right then and there that she was what balanced him, though he hadn’t expected what happened next.
On impulse, Jeff swept Oceanus into a kiss, and suddenly, the world had blinked out, turned cold, stopped. Just when the despair was about to squash Jeff out, the world erupted into a blaze of brightness and an overkill of happiness. Literally, overkill. The world ended again! Nothing remained but Jeff and Oceanus locked together in an embrace in the middle of some creepy cold void. The only thing tethering Jeff to reality was the vibrant feel of Oceanus in his arms, her warmth, her quivering body and the death grip she had on the front of his shirt. When the world was reborn, supers were balanced, neither good nor bad, as well as both good and bad. Super villains no longer had to wreak havoc and discovered that they cared if someone suffered—well, mostly. Super heroes no longer held themselves against an impossibly perfect standard, nor distrusted every move made by the ex-villains—for the most part.
Jeff still struggled to figure the whole thing out, even though he’d been there. Heck, he’d done it. Even though he’d been the catalyst, he couldn’t figure out how. The really odd thing was the part he hadn’t admitted to anyone; Jeff hadn’t changed a bit from the balancing. Pre-balancing Oceanus never would have spoken to his hero mother, but earlier she’d answered his phone like they were gal pals. And Mother. Her cold, no-break-the-rules approach to life had seriously mellowed. He’d even caught her lying to a friend to get out of attending a book club meeting last week. Mother, lying? Yet for him, nothing had changed. It remained as tear-your-hair-out conflicting as before. He couldn’t control either his good or his bad side. Both continued to grow with equal fervor. Neither side cooperated with the other like everyone else’s appeared to do.
Pulling out of his thoughts, Jeff found himself in the large main entry of the academy. At this hour, the only occupants were a sleeping student sprawled across a couple chairs he’d shoved together and a security guard. As soon as the guard spotted Jeff, she sprang to her feet and stood at attention.
“Good evening Mr. Tohler, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?”
Jeff squinted at her nametag. “No thanks, Ms. Edwin. Just feeling antsy.”
Jeff stood in front of the wall of windows and stared out at the bleak topography surrounding the academy. He saw Edwin’s reflection in the window, still standing at attention behind the reception desk.
“At ease, Edwin.”
“No, thank you, sir.”
Jeff watched her reflection for a bit, wondering about her reaction to him. That had been another surprise, to learn that he was super royalty. Before the balancing, his dad, along with being the headmaster of the academy Jeff now attended, had held an important place in villain hierarchy. Rather, their last name, Tohler, had a long and respected legacy in the villain world. Mother’s family heritage in the white hat world was nothing to sneeze at either, but she clinched her perch in the “I’m so perfect it hurts” world of white hats by being a badass hero—though that might be an oxymoron.
Since pulling the two worlds together, Jeff had catapulted to Maharaja status. People expected him to know everything there was to know about being both a super villain and a super hero, when, in fact, he was only now completing his first year of academy. Plus, with the shifts and changes the academies went through after the balancing to include a complete curriculum of good and bad super training, Jeff was actually behind in his super education.
It was also a trip to learn his last name was Tohler. He grew up thinking he was Jeff Mean. To avoid confusion—like that was possible—his parents still went by it, even after the big identity reveal. They explained that they wanted Jeff and Sandra to be raised oblivious to their conflicting heritage, and tried to explain something about not coming into their own if they were always expecting to come into their own. He guessed he understood on some level. There was a super villain he’d attended SVA with named Set who grew up knowing he was from power and money and had the arrogance and self-importance to go along with it.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Jeff decided to stop thinking before his head exploded. A movement of darker than dark shadow just beyond the lights caught his attention. He shifted his head to the side, trying to avoid the reflective glare of the bright interior. The grounds in front of the school were flat and treeless. There was nothing to hide behind, but the light on the exterior of the building only extended so far before it was swallowed by the hungry shadows of nightfall. Jeff peered hard into the depths where he thought he’d seen movement swallowed up by inky blackness. He saw nothing now.
“Is everything alright, Mr. Tohler?” Edwin asked.
Jeff turned to face her. “Yeah. I thought I saw a dog outside. Does the academy have any dogs?”
“No, sir,” Edwin said.
“Must have been a trick of the light, then. Goodnight Edwin.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
Chapter 3
“Are you sure you have the route memorized?” Coach asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jeff said. He actually doubted he’d remember it, but since he never remembered a new route until he’d run it at least three times, he wasn’t too concerned. He’d make it back eventually.
Jeff squatted, then straightened his legs, keeping his hands on the ground. Coach leaned upside down and looked at Jeff intently. “You’re sure?”
Jeff sighed. “Coach, it isn’t much different from the route I’ve been running. You’ve only added an additional five miles. I’ll figure it out.”
Though Coach didn’t look convinced, he straightened up and went to bother another student who had a new route of hurdles mapped out for her. Apparently she’d be jumping large things like houses and irrigation canals.
Because Jeff was the fastest runner in class with the most endurance, he ran alone. Some kids could run as far as him, but not at the same pace. This new route had him covering sixty-five miles in forty minutes. The majority of the class tapped out at forty miles or a mile a minute. Jeff was thankful he wasn’t jumping over irrigation canals; otherwise, he’d be taking swim class too. He most definitely was not a hurdler.
Coach fired a starter pistol to send the students on their different courses. Jeff took off as the shot rang out. His reaction time was uncanny fast, like Dozer indicated, but it wasn’t because he was more hero than villain; it was simply because he had an unusually fast reaction time.
Jeff settled into a pace just above his comfort zone, since he was expected to complete an additional five miles in the same time period. He liked increasing his physical challenges, and looked forward to completing the run. His favorite power music played in his ears, and sleek wrap-around sunglasses prevented his eyes from streaming in the wind.
Fifteen minutes into the run, he’d gone about twenty-five miles when an odd shadow in his peripheral vision caught his attention. When he glanced in its direction, it was gone. Awhile later another blur swerved just into view in the corner of his eye again, but seemed to quickly fall back. He couldn’t figure out what was odd about it. After another five miles, another shadow swung into view again, and he realized that whatever it was seemed to keep pace with him. It had already disappeared by the time he turned to look at it. He glanced further behind him, but saw nothing.
The impact with the side of the parked car left a Jeff-width dent in the rear quarter panel. He tumbled up and over the trunk and another ten feet before ending in a heap in a front yard.
“Uuuuhhhh!” Jeff groaned as he struggled t
o find his wits. He rolled onto his back, his legs sprawled.
“Are you okay?” A female voice called from the direction of the house.
Jeff heard the screech of an un-oiled screen door and then the telltale slam. Crap, how am I gonna explain this? Still too stunned to move, he lay there staring at the wispy clouds floating in the blue-sky overhead. When the girl walked into his line of site, she was far from what Jeff had expected.
“Are you hurt? You look hurt,” she said, dropping to her knees next to Jeff.
He blinked a couple times, wondering if he’d hit his head. The girl leaned forward and felt his forehead and cheeks as if he were sick. Waves of long red hair fell forward and tickled Jeff’s arm and pooled onto his chest. Her top was low-cut, and her leaning forward only improved the view. She continued to feel his forehead and cheeks and sometimes his neck. Her brow was scrunched and her lips pursed in either concentration or confusion; Jeff wasn’t sure which. She placed her fingers on his mouth, startling him.
“You’re breathing,” she said. She was maybe seventeen, but she had an affected child-like voice, which reminded Jeff of Marilyn Monroe.
“I’m fine. I…” Jeff had no idea how to explain what happened. They weren’t supposed to be noticed when they were training outside the academy.
The girl smiled, plopped sideways onto her hip, and draped herself across Jeff. “Oh thank goodness,” she said as she combed her fingers through his hair.
Her top threatened to spill its contents. Unacceptably distracting freckle-specked, peaches-and-cream skin and the scent of her skin-tight leather pants completely threw him off guard. Some animal instinct reared up inside him.
Before he acted on his impulse to reach for her and pull her closer, Jeff sat up, spilling the girl and all her luscious skin and hair onto the grass. She laughed and rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand.
“Uh, thanks for your… um… help,” Jeff tested the function of his knees, which had taken the brunt of the impact with the car, before he stood.
The girl rolled onto her back, smiling up at him. She looked like one of Shakespeare’s Mid-Summer’s fairies gone rogue. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? Ice, water, or… anything else?” She ran her hand along her inner thigh.
Jeff’s mouth dropped open. He imagined what it would be like to take her up on what she seemed to be offering. He really considered following her into her house. What’s the point of being a villain—or ex-villain—if you don’t take advantage of times like these?
The girl seemed to read his mind. She popped onto her feet, grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt, and dragged him toward her house. Jeff noticed how her hair tumbled all the way down to the attractive swell of her rear, which swayed invitingly as she mounted the steps of her porch.
As soon as Jeff stepped up onto the first step, a knot of anxiety balled up in his stomach. He froze. The sudden halt pulled his shirt from the girl’s grip. She took another step before turning. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
This particular anxiety was caused by one of two things, either a villain or a hero. Jeff still hadn’t figured out which gave him the unsettled feeling, or if perhaps both did, but he was certain that one of the two sat inside waiting for him, which made no sense. It had been a fluke that he’d ended up sprawled on the lawn of this house, so it couldn’t be that whoever was inside waited for Jeff. It must be a coincidence. He looked at the girl. The impossibly gorgeous girl. She was definitely human but she did seem all too familiar with him.
Jeff backed up. “I gotta go.”
“Oh, and here I thought it was my lucky day.” She winked. “But now you know where to find me. My name’s Savannah. Drop by any time.” She trailed a finger down her front and stopped just short of, well, you know. Jeff’s mouth hung agape again.
He blinked and shook his head. “Wow.” An earbud had fallen out when he tumbled over the car. He fumbled it back into his ear, then turned, jogged out of her yard, and took the turn he should’ve taken before he ended up in the side of the car. When he was out of sight of the house, he picked up the pace, trying to figure out if he should cut his run short or just run faster in order to make up for the lost time.
Jeff had only met one other girl as bold as Savannah, and that was Mystic. He couldn’t believe there were more girls with brazen personalities out there. At least Mystic had an excuse; Savannah wasn’t even a villain. At least, he didn’t think so. His super instincts were rather pathetic.
Coach yelled at Jeff when he got back late.
“I had a mishap,” Jeff said.
“Did anyone see you?”
“Yeah, but I’d stopped running by the time she saw me, so she’s none the wiser. Everything’s fine, it just delayed me.” Jeff walked into the locker room to shower before heading to his next class, history, which he often arrived too late.
* * * *
Mr. Hammond’s deadpan drone greeted Jeff before he turned into the classroom. “So Glenda was good, but her twin brother Bartholomew was bad. Glenda, being good, and with a conscience and such, had a difficult time mounting an offense against her brother, which meant the white hats were often on the defense. Bart’s rule lasted a long thirty-five years, extending into the mid-1940s, when Glenda died and a new white hat came into power.”
Jeff slunk down the side of the room toward his seat.
“Mr. Tohler, I’m so pleased you’ve arrived. Do you know the name of the white hat who took over after Glenda?”
Mr. Hammond may have been a hero before the balancing but he’s always been a jerk. “Yes, Mr. Hammond, I do,” Jeff said. He’d stopped slinking and strolled around the back of the room to his seat. He plopped his books down with a louder-than-necessary bang then slid onto his chair. For effect, he winked at Whisper, a cute girl who seemed to have a crush on him. “It was my grandfather, William Bagley.”
“Yes, yes, it was your very own grandfather. He’s the one responsible for knocking Bartholomew Tohler off his perch, now isn’t he?”
Jeff nodded hesitantly. Why was Mr. Hammond smirking?
“Who was Bartholomew Tohler? Your great grandfather, I believe?”
Again, Jeff nodded. He’d only learned his family history in the last few months, and since history wasn’t really his thing, he might have forgotten some of it, or perhaps he didn’t pay close enough attention to his parents’ musings.
“Yes, yes.” Mr. Hammond turned his attention to the class. “That’s when villains started using nicknames. Some of the more notorious ones were Zombie, for his ability to raise armies of dead; Ram, for his ability to turn any object into a battering ram; and The Weatherman. Does anyone know what he did?”
Whisper pumped her hand into the air, and Mr. Hammond pointed to her.
“He caused all sorts of natural disasters,” Whisper said. Her honeyed brown hair was tucked behind her ears, and Jeff noticed earplugs stuffed into her ears so she wouldn’t hear everything around her amplified to the point of blowing her drums. Someone told him she also heard the thoughts of those around her as if they were being whispered in her head. That would suck. She turned and smiled at him, and he realized she’d heard his thought. He half smiled and looked away.
Mr. Hammond stared at Jeff. “Yes, and why exactly did The Weatherman cause these natural disasters? Anyone?” He barely waited for a response. “No? Well, there was no particular reason. He just liked death and destruction. He didn’t profit from it. As a matter of fact, he had to hold a day job in order to feed himself. Does anyone know what he did?”
Jeff was nervous now. Mr. Hammond hadn’t looked away the entire time he was talking.
“No? Well, he had a bicycle repair shop.”
Jeff’s eyes grew wide and his stomach lurched. He didn’t know anything about The Weatherman.
“What? Polar, you looked surprised. Didn’t you know The Weatherman was your paternal grandfather? Interesting.”
It was moments like this when Jeff felt most confl
icted about who he actually was. When people called him a hero, he got defensive and claimed not to be, but when he heard about blatant evil and injustice, his blood boiled. How could his grandfather have been so heartless to kill people for no reason at all? Why hadn’t Dad mentioned him when he bragged about the family history? Jeff was sure there’d been no mention of The Weatherman.
“But then again,” Mr. Hammond continued in a nonchalant manner, “when your own father has assisted in a number of mass suicides, what are a few hundred thousand deaths due to natural disasters?”
Jeff worked very hard to keep his expression blank. If what Mr. Hammond said was true, then Jeff’s lineage of villainy was far stronger and more revolting than he’d ever suspected. A couple kids turned to gape at him as if somehow the actions of his father and grandfathers reflected on him. Jeff noted they weren’t all ex-heroes.
“Excuse me, sir!” Trina raised her hand and waved it around a bit.
“Yes, Trina?” Mr. Hammond almost seemed disappointed.
“We all know what Polar’s mom has done during her heroic career, and we all must remember that his maternal grandmother was responsible for forming the Hero Network to assure that those who choose to be heroes fulltime never want for the comforts of life. And, well, of course, there is what Polar himself did.” Trina looked at Jeff with big round doe eyes and a goofy grin.
Holy crap! I’m frickin’ history! My poor kids, if I ever have any, will learn all this, plus me. Great! He gave Trina a nod and one of his crooked smiles and saw her breath catch. His smile crooked a little further as he chuckled at her reaction. Good girls love a bad boy.
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Hammond admitted. “Polar Tohler is the one responsible for you, Trina, and me and James and Emily all sitting in this room today. Polar Tohler is the one to have righted all the wrongs and wronged all the rights. Only time will tell if this was a good thing or not.”