Super Powereds: Year 3

by Drew Hayes

  “You just made getting half the class drunk sound surprisingly noble,” Alice complimented.

  “I fear Angela must be rubbing off on me,” Chad said, letting out a sigh that might have seemed genuinely depressing, if not for the slight smirk on his face.

  “Okay, since it seems like I’m outvoted here, can we at least be smart about this?” Mary asked. “Halloween is three weeks away. Let’s shop around, and see what our options are. Maybe we can find someplace reasonably private where we can at least minimize damage if things go wrong.”

  “That seems both prudent and easily accomplished,” Chad agreed.

  “Yahtzee!” Vince yelled. This confused everyone, until they noticed the bright red box in his hand. “No? Okay, we’ve got other stuff. Just seemed like a good one.”

  “Pick a few and bring them over,” Alice instructed. “In the meantime, I’m getting my laptop and looking up costume ideas. Mary, what size do you wear again?”

  Mary lifted a single eyebrow and somehow managed to scowl with the other one. “Why do you need to know that?”

  Alice said nothing, merely scampering out of the room with a mischievous gleam in her eye. Mary wondered if it was too late to request her own change of dorms.

  73.

  With the first round of trials over, life in the HCP settled back into the strange form of normality that occurred when you had dozens of highly skilled Supers training rigorously. For the junior class, little heed was paid to the outcome of the matches, beyond the personal lessons they’d learned. Training regimes were tweaked and new strategies conceived, but for most of the class, it was just like any other battle they’d endured at Lander: they moved past it almost as soon as it was over. There was one notable exception, however.

  Will glanced up from his worktable in surprise at the sound of a knock—generally, his roommates left him alone during construction time. He set down the soldering gun, but left his safety goggles on; no sense in taking them off if this would be a quick meeting. With a few steps, he reached the door and pulled it open. To his surprise, it was not one of his housemates on the other side. It was Camille.

  “Hey,” she greeted sheepishly. “I was wondering if you had a moment to talk.”

  “Of course,” Will said, opening his door the rest of the way. Camille stepped inside, unfazed by the sprawling collection of various electronics spread across the dwelling. It looked like a robot serial killer’s hidden lair, but she’d known Will since freshman year and was accustomed to his cluttered environment.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” Camille began. “I was over visiting Violet, and we started talking about last week’s Close Combat trials.”

  Will gave her a slight nod. The small girl’s upset, taking out Chad as well as Roy, had needed less than a single afternoon to spread throughout the class. Discovering the sweet little healer was actually packing serious power had left more than a few students rethinking what they believed they knew about their classmates.

  “Anyway, while I was complaining about the biggest weakness of my ability—skin on skin contact—it reminded me that I wanted to talk with you about finding something that could help.”

  “That depends,” Will said, considering his words carefully. “Are you looking for a way to use your ability without directly making contact with the other person?”

  “Well, that would be amazing,” Camille admitted. “But I doubt you’d have anything that could totally repurpose my power just lying around. What I really wanted to ask about was some sort of material that I could wear, but that would still let me use my ability. The stripping down bit is really freaking embarrassing.”

  Although Will had heard her ensemble described as no more revealing than a swimsuit, he understood that, for someone as bashful as Camille, it was still more than she wanted to show off. This would be especially true if she became a Hero and needed to use her power in the public eye.

  “You were correct in that I couldn’t completely remove the contact barrier of your ability. Well, actually, I might be able to, depending on how your ability works, and what I could come up with. It would, perhaps, be more prudent to say that, even if I could remove that limitation, I wouldn’t.”

  This time, it was Camille’s turn to nod. She and Will weren’t close friends, but they were friends. Still, they were also in competition with one another. That meant he would help with certain things, but he wasn’t going to give her such a supreme edge that it cost he or Jill their chances at graduation. It was one of the boundaries one had to observe when being friends with a tech genius.

  “The request for a more modest outfit, however, I will happily accommodate if possible,” Will continued. “There are no guarantees, obviously. Each power is different, and it may turn out that no combination of materials will allow you to utilize your abilities.”

  “I understand that,” Camille assured him. “Honestly, I’m just glad for any help you can give. I’d happily take skintight over skimpy.”

  “That’s a good thing, because your outfit will almost certainly fall into that category,” Will informed her. “I’ll need to make some testing equipment before we do a preliminary round of trials. We could start sometime next week?”

  “Wow, that’s really soon. I appreciate it.”

  Will gave her a reassuring smile. “The next trials will, presumably, be in December. I assumed you’d want to be clothed by then.”

  “Yes. Yes, I very much would,” Camille agreed.

  * * *

  Nicholas picked up the phone on its second ring. He sat in his apartment, quietly reading through some old files as the afternoon sun streamed through his window. The ringtone was Eliza’s, which gave him a mild sense of trepidation as he put the receiver to his ear. She had been less than pleasant ever since Jerome was roasted (albeit without injury) by a bomb, and she nearly killed by goons. He didn’t entirely get the attitude—it wasn’t as though lasting harm had actually come to either of them.

  “Got a new girl in the parking lot,” Eliza said as the call connected. Instantly, Nicholas shifted gears. This was not a mere harassment call; it was the sighting of someone in their complex who didn’t belong. Ever since his date with Alice, far more attention had been paid to those details.

  “Assessment?” Nicholas asked.

  “I think she’s a visitor,” Eliza replied. “She’s reading the numbers on the doors, but looks as though she’s not entirely sure what she’s looking for. Appears to be a student, arrived on foot from the direction of campus, so if she is a fake, she’s at least playing the part well.”

  “Any distinguishing characteristics?”

  “Nothing outstanding. Brunette, short, non-descript clothes. No purse or jewelry, not that that means much in the middle of a school day.”

  Short, brunette, and seemingly oblivious to things like fashion. A creeping suspicion gnawed at Nicholas’s gut. It was an easy theory to test. He focused on thinking about his apartment’s number, running through the digits several times.

  “She’s on the move,” Eliza informed him. “Coming up the stairs. Shit, she’s heading right for your place. Should Jerome and I intercept?”

  “No, Eliza, let her be. I’ve expected this visit since I arrived.” Nicholas ended the call, then rose from his seat, not bothering to put away the file. In a few long-legged strides, he crossed the apartment, opening the door just before the short brunette could knock.

  “Mary, I presume,” Nicholas greeted her.

  “And you must be Nicholas,” she replied, stepping inside. Nicholas closed the door firmly behind her. He didn’t need anyone overhearing this discussion.

  74.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected and inconvenient visit?” Nicholas asked. He noticed Mary walking slowly through his living room, taking in the decor with a careful eye. Clearly, she was looking for something, or things, yet he had no clue what she might be hoping to spot.

  “I was looking for pictures,” Mary state
d without prompting. Nicholas blinked in surprise, then mentally adjusted. Understanding one was dealing with a telepath wasn’t the same thing as expecting one’s thoughts to be on open display. He wondered how Nick had gotten used to it.

  “He didn’t,” Mary said, ceasing her examination and settling down into a chair. “He just became tireless about marshaling his thoughts. There were slip-ups, of course—no one can control their every errant thought—but Nick came closer than I ever suspected anyone could.”

  “Impressive,” Nicholas replied. “Now, are you going to answer my question?”

  “I’m here to spy on you,” Mary said, not a single shred of guile in her voice. “I want to know your motives, I want to know your intentions, and I want to see if it’s safe to let you be around the others.”

  Nicholas stared at her for a moment, before taking his own seat in a chair across the room. Nick’s notes had warned him Mary was something of a busybody, so he’d expected her to make a play eventually. However, this was more overt than he’d anticipated from a skilled telepath.

  “I don’t know that you have the authority to stop me,” Nicholas pointed out.

  “I don’t need authority,” Mary replied. She smiled at him, her small stature and sweet expression making her appear as harmless as a kitten batting at a sunbeam. “I have power. That’s all the authority you would respect, anyway.”

  “I’m abreast of the rules regarding HCP students and keeping their identities secret. Whatever bargaining pieces you may think you have, rest assured I possess plenty of my own.”

  “Hmm,” Mary said, smile giving way as she bit her bottom lip in contemplation. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “You thought I’d have no rebuttal to your threats?”

  “No, I assumed you’d have something. I mean I didn’t expect you to be stupider than Nick,” Mary explained.

  Nicholas kept the glower off his face, but only barely. “Beg pardon?”

  “Maybe stupider was the wrong word,” Mary conceded. “Worse? More ignorant? No, those don’t feel right either. I guess I thought giving up all your Lander memories would turn you into a more efficient and more cunning manipulator. But then again, you’re basically the same person you were when we first arrived at Melbrook. I suppose my judgment of you from those days is foggy, since I didn’t know as much then as I do now. That’s probably it: I thought old you was smarter because old me wasn’t experienced enough to see all your weaknesses at the time.”

  “My, you do like to blather,” Nicholas replied. “And yet, you’ve done nothing but level false assertions. I am not ‘stupider’ than my previous counterpart. If anything, from what I’ve seen, I’m a step up.”

  “Are you? Because Nick would have come up with a better bluff than threatening to out me in retaliation. He’d have known I was aware of the gambit Alice used on you, and that I could level the same threats even more effectively. Of course, he would have also known me well enough to predict that I would never reveal the sort of secrets that could bring you serious harm, both because you’re a former friend, and because I’m not a heartless monster.”

  “Which means I have leverage, while you have none,” Nicholas pointed out.

  “No, what it means is that you have a way to get back at me,” Mary corrected. “See, Nick would also have understood that when I say I’ll stop you if I deem you to be a threat to my people, I spoke those words with full understanding of the consequences of my actions.”

  The pictures—tasteful art meant to leave a fleeting impression and then be forgotten—along Nicholas’s wall began to rattle ever so softly. The coffee table was next, then every piece of furniture in the living room.

  “Nick grasped that the kind of bond we all have is not something you take lightly. He understood the concept of sacrifice. You, clearly, do not; so let me spell it out. If I decide you are too dangerous to be allowed near my friends, I will stop you. Make any threats you like, out me if it pleases you, but make sure you’re clear on this one point: I have the power to stop you, and I will use it.”

  The rattling stopped, everything settling into place as though no disturbance had ever taken place. Mary flashed Nicholas another harmless smile.

  Nicholas, for his part, kept his heartbeat in check only through years of practiced self-control. Reading about these people had been one thing; dealing with them up close was another. They were focused, powerful, and incredibly dangerous. Nearly every encounter had served to remind him that he was scarcely better than human, and they were far beyond such a state. And Nick had managed to spend two years somehow coping in the presence of these beasts.

  “He didn’t cope,” Mary corrected. “He flourished. Nick had something you don’t; he had the memories of us when we were all scared and new to the program. The bastard knew enough of our emotional strings to play the chords and keep us dancing. Plus, he had friends who would do anything for him. Melbrook might not be the best assortment of Supers on campus, but we’re not the worst group to have your back in a fight.”

  “So I’ve seen,” Nicholas admitted. “All right then, let’s back off the sword-waving for now. After all, I might pass your test and be deemed fit for mingling.”

  “There’s the Nick sensibility I missed,” Mary said. “In the spirit of friendship, I’ll even tell you that your acquaintance, or employee, or whatever she is, Eliza, is listening in on us.”

  There was a muffled thump from the other side of the far wall, as though someone leaning against it had made a sudden motion in surprise.

  “I’m annoyed, but not surprised,” Nicholas admitted. “She’s here partly as backup, and partly as a spy for Ms. Pips. No sense in getting mad at a spy for spying.”

  “Ms. Pips sent someone to watch you? Why not Gerry?”

  “How do you know . . . never mind. Gerry is too busy to come spend a few months charting my every move.”

  Mary knew it was a lie, and she heard the truth in his thoughts. She also understood that this deception wasn’t for her benefit, it was meant for the eager ears of the woman on the other side of the wall.

  “Let’s start with why you’re here in the first place,” Mary suggested, skimming past the thorny topic.

  “I’ll put on some coffee,” Nicholas suggested. “This might take a while.”

  75.

  “Oooh, out-of-print editions,” Alex chirped happily, pulling out a weathered cardboard box and burrowing into its contents. He and Hershel were exploring one of the local gaming/comic shops in the Lander area, one they hadn’t been to in several months. It was a farther drive than some of the closer options, and the limited free-time being a third year had provided them with was often spent either training or, in Hershel’s case, working. Thus, upon finally gaining a free afternoon to do some shopping, they’d walked into a slew of new product that hadn’t been present at their last trip.

  “Heck yeah,” Hershel said, stooping down next to his friend to look at the aged books. “Jeez, an Alphablaster comic. I haven’t seen one of these in ages.”

  “His popularity did fade pretty quickly after the eighties,” Alex agreed.

  Comic books, once a realm of purely fictional exploits, had shifted after the outing of Supers. Some of the classics still existed, but many of the newer graphic novels told stories that were fictionalized accounts of real events, or at least featured actual Heroes. Devotees of a particular Hero or team were known to snap up their comics as ardently as the rest of their merchandise, meaning some books held tremendous value to the right buyer.

  “Man, that would be a great costume for Halloween,” Hershel commented, looking the letter-splattered uniform over closely.

  “I try to avoid Hero outfits when I can,” Alex replied. “Best case scenario, I’ll probably be sick of the things one day, so I’m trying to enjoy the allure of them while I can.”

  “Then what are you coming to our party as?”

  “A surprise,” Alex said, eyes glinting mischievously under his shaggy brown b
angs. “How about you? Any ideas yet?”

  “Nothing for sure,” Hershel replied. “Roy’s offered to let me have the whole night, since he’s using so much time for bartending, but I feel guilty about it. I got all of last year’s Halloween, too, and it is his favorite holiday.”

  “Why not split it, then?”

  “That’s what I’m leaning toward,” Hershel said. “But that means I have to find two costumes, not just one.”

  “Roy can’t shop for his own costume?” Alex asked.

  “If I leave it to Roy, he’ll show up shirtless and smothered in baby oil.”

  “That sounds like an exaggeration.”

  “It’s what he did freshman year,” Hershel informed him. “He wore a lazy barbarian outfit, oiled up, and called it a day. Roy’s never been very shy about his physique.”

  “I can see that,” Alex said, flipping through more comics. “Then again, big as Roy is, in a room of people from our class, it won’t be quite as impressive.” As he moved, his “Han Shot First” shirt was pulled tight against his shoulders. While Alex wouldn’t pass for a body-builder, he could easily be mistaken for a devoted athlete. Two years in the HCP had sculpted even the leanest of them into well-built physical specimens. Hershel was behind, but he was slowly gaining ground.

  “Which is why I want to get him something less douchey,” Hershel said. “Holy crap, is that an old Captain Starlight?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a reprint,” Alex noted. “And there’s a lot of damage to the cover. It looks like someone spilled coffee on it.”

  “I realize it’s not worth much, I just liked Captain Starlight,” Hershel said, plucking the weathered piece from the bin. “He was my favorite for a long time.”

  “Captain Starlight was everyone’s favorite at some point,” Alex pointed out. “When you’re the first, you get that kind of love.”