Super Powereds: Year 3

by Drew Hayes

  A few students perked up at the name, recognition washing over their faces. Victor loved pulling that card out of his deck; it was always guaranteed to yank a few wandering minds into the discussion.

  “That’s right, Jade “The Comet” Norris was an HCP washout when she was first signed back in the early nineties. This was when co-ed teams were still a thing people fought about, as if a woman who could bench a truck was somehow inferior to a man with the same power. Any of you who are sports fans know Jade broke dozens of records, both as a receiver and, later on, a quarterback. In fact, a lot of her records still stand to this day, though I’ve seen a lot of people try to crack them. Fame, wealth, adoration, and last I checked, a standing sponsorship deal with no less than ten major brands; not bad for a backup plan.”

  Some of them were definitely listening now. Not many people had the mental fortitude to tune out a discussion about piles of money and easy living that might just be theirs for the taking. Of course, Jade was a legend for a reason—not everyone had talent for a sport just because they were good at fighting. True, there were things like boxing or MMA that they could easily fit into, but the big money lived in America’s largest loves: Basketball, Baseball, and, at the top of the heap, Football. That was why coaches like Victor had to cast a wide net in recruiting. It took roughly ten disappointments to find one unpolished jewel.

  “That’s just an example of someone who didn’t finish the HCP. We also have a lot of former Heroes on our rosters as well. Hanging up the cape is a damned hard thing to do, and I should know. Once upon a time, I wore one myself. Metaphorically, anyway—actually wearing capes is long out of fashion. Point is, I spent the better part of a decade out there, up to my knees in action every day, until one day, I couldn’t do it anymore. I was getting too slow, the close-calls getting too close. I realized that if I didn’t walk away from the life, I’d be carried out of it in a box.”

  Victor’s gregariousness fell away, a solemn expression taking the place of his beaming smile. “I won’t sugarcoat this for you: making that choice was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. To stop living in that world, to see people you know and love still entering the fray while you sit on the sidelines . . . personally, I think it’s the hardest part of being a Hero. The only way I could keep from going crazy was to find some action, somewhere, and that’s why I signed on with the SAA. It isn’t quite the same, nothing replicates being a Hero, but my worst injury days didn’t involve severed limbs or ruptured organs, and there’s something to be said for that. Then, I began to really enjoy what I was doing. Of course, the five-star hotels and ability to afford fine dining didn’t hurt either, if you know what I mean.”

  The seriousness began to melt as Victor turned the conversation back to a positive note. Explaining what the SAA was, and what they did, was so simple that it didn’t really necessitate a speaker. Victor didn’t come out to get them amped about playing football instead of saving lives, nor did he show up just to bug Blaine for insider info. No, Victor Pakulski made this pilgrimage every year to make sure the kids knew what no one had told him and his peers: there was life after being a Hero.

  They didn’t all have to die with their capes on.

  173.

  While Victor was speaking to Hero hopefuls, Ralph Chapman was getting lunch. Much as he liked to keep an eye on things in the Hero Certification Program, it was simply logistically unsound to watch over the whole program day after day. Dropping in infrequently, at key times, that was how one kept people on their toes and still found time to get one’s own work done. As for Victor, the Super once known as Bullrush, Ralph Chapman had no desire to hear that loud man’s brash voice. Though he’d left the Hero world with a clean record, Ralph had simply never enjoyed that Hero on a personal level. Too much destructive potential; really, destruction was all Bullrush could do. Seeing him filled Ralph with questions about what sins might have been covered up to protect that goofy Hero’s positive image. It was ire that he didn’t need before eating, so he skipped the speech altogether.

  Instead, he went to a nice diner near his office, one he’d discovered on his first week and still found to be scrumptious. Walking in, he greeted the hostess with a polite nod, settled into a booth with his laptop, and began to do some work after giving the waiter his order. It was just like every other time he’d come to the establishment . . .

  Right up until the young man slid into the opposite side of his booth. Chapman looked up from his computer screen, hoping it was simply a misunderstanding, but bracing for the possibility of an attempt on his life. He found neither confusion nor malice staring back at him. Rather, he was greeted by a friendly smile gleaming on a face that also hosted a pair of sunglasses. The young man had a small bag of chips open in his hand, which he turned and held up.

  “Spicy flavored. Want one?”

  “No, thank you.” This clearly wasn’t an accident, so this strange young man must know who he was. What remained a mystery was what he hoped to glean from ambushing a DVA agent in broad daylight.

  “Don’t blame you. Spicy isn’t really a flavor in the first place, you know? It’s supposed to be an addition to other flavors. Saying this is the spicy flavor is like having one where the description is just ‘salty.’ We’re really letting standards slide when it comes to junk food.” As he spoke, the young man popped a few more of the very chips he was denigrating into his mouth.

  “I’m certain the FDA is right on top of it. I can even pass along your complaint if you’d like, Mr. . . .”

  “Nick. Just call me Nick, though your last fellow knew me by the name Dig Bixby.”

  A hot coal of worry began burning at the lining of Chapman’s stomach. This was the man Smitt had tried, in vain, to pin down for weeks. Who was likely responsible for driving him out of town. Nick, if that was his name, likely knew about the nature of Smitt and Chapman’s relationship. Suddenly, the intrusion shifted from an annoyance to a problem.

  “I’m not sure I have any idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? That’s a little disrespectful. I mean, I offered you my chips, I even gave you my real name, and you’re going to try and bluff me with a flat-denial lie. That hurts, Ralph. It really does. And here, I came to you with the truest hopes of friendship.”

  Ralph Chapman considered the young man carefully. He was college-aged, though likely on the downhill side of the experience. Despite the frame he tried to hide under winter clothing, there were still telltale signs of impressive fitness. All of that, plus the ties to Vince Reynolds Smitt had uncovered, significantly narrowed down the possibilities of who he was.

  “So then, Nick. You’ll be Nick Campbell, last year’s expulsion case.”

  “Somebody has been looking at the ‘no-no’ files.” If Nick was surprised to have his identity deduced so quickly, it didn’t show on his face. “But yes, you got it in a single guess. I’d shake your hand, but, you know, chip dust.” He raised his orange-colored fingers to illustrate the point.

  “Given the situation surrounding a certain student, I felt it proper to read all files about his associates, regardless of their classification level.”

  “Hey, I’m not here to judge,” Nick replied. “In fact, I’m glad you’re the snooping type. Saves me the trouble of telling you, having you doubt me, and then you digging it up and finally believing me. This way, we can have a worthwhile discussion. And really, who has time for all that, anyway?”

  “You should, technically speaking. You’re out of the program, in a very permanent fashion, and should have no memory of the entire experience. Given the circumstances, it seems that’s not the case.”

  “With all due respect to the professor, she did a hell of a job popping my top and scrambling my memories. But she, and really all of you in that process, forgot a very important rule about the world.”

  “Do tell.” Chapman didn’t like this young man. He didn’t trust the glib way Nick was admitting to things that should have been hidden a
way with every ounce of cunning he had. Telling a DVA agent that you’d regained sealed memories made no sense; which meant that either Nick was an idiot, or Chapman didn’t yet know what game they were actually playing.

  Nick leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper. “There are millions of Supers out there, and with enough money, you can always find one with the talent you need. If you can break it, someone else can fix it, Ralph.”

  “Perhaps so, but now that I’m aware of you breaking protocol, what makes you think there won’t be a warrant out for you by the time my food gets here?” Chapman shot back.

  “Because we’re friends.” Nick leaned back, all air of seriousness gone, replaced with another wide smile. “And friends don’t do things like tattle on each other. It’s why I didn’t send that massive pile of evidence, including some choice Smitt recordings, off to the DVA’s Internal Affairs division as soon as I got them. Friends protect each other; we don’t narc the other out.”

  “Can you cut to the quick of this?” Chapman said. He felt uneasy talking to Nick, as though the longer he spoke, the more he was giving the failed Hero exactly what he wanted.

  “Glad to.” Nick crumpled up the chip bag and set it down, then took a spare napkin from the table and began wiping off his fingers. “I debated on how to approach you for a long while, Ralph. I thought about extortion, or threatening loved ones, or all the usual ways I’d come at someone who dared to try and pin me down. But the more I studied you, the more I realized how similar we are. You don’t have any family to use—my condolences, by the way—and you’re not the sort to cave in to someone trying to blackmail you. You’d bring them down with you just for spite. At the end of the day, Ralph Chapman, you’re just a man who is driven by a single purpose, and that means none of my normal tricks would really work on you. So I decided to take a page out of Vince’s book, and try a whole different tactic.”

  Ralph braced himself. If Nick was mimicking Reynolds, then whatever attack he had planned was bound to be outrageous. Instead of explosions, shattering glass, or any other signal of destruction, though, Ralph only saw Nick extend his recently cleaned off hand.

  “I decided to forgive you, Ralph Chapman. You didn’t know the beehive you were poking, and I’m not going to punish you for the accident. We’re square. You can walk out of this diner and never worry about your bosses finding out you went off the books. Leave, and you’ll never see me again. Not even if you try.”

  Tentatively, Ralph stretched out his fingers and accepted Nick’s handshake. They gripped for a moment, and then it was done.

  “Of course, leaving will also mean you lose out on the treasure trove of inside knowledge I have, which no one else knows I have, from my time in the program,” Nick added.

  “Given what you did for your friend, I doubt you’re going to tell me anything that will damage him.”

  “No, but only because there’s nothing to tell,” Nick replied. “All I can give you is the truth, actual facts that can be used as you see fit. That’s what I’ll be wanting from you, as well. Simple, pure, friendly, informational exchange.”

  “Why on earth would you think I’d deal with someone like you?” Chapman asked.

  “Because you stepped outside the lines with Smitt, which means you’re desperate for information. I’m not chiding you for it; I’d have done the same thing. Well, I’d have done it better, but that isn’t the point. What matters is that I already know you’re willing to make deals and compromises, if it means uncovering the truth. So, Ralph Chapman, I’m proposing you stop doing bargains with imps.”

  Nick smiled again, this time with such a strange force that Ralph actually wondered if he was misremembering the man’s powers.

  “If you want to make deals, you should do them with a proper devil.”

  174.

  As Victor’s speech ended and the class began filing out, Will moved with them, mind already on his next destination. After a few steps, however, he began to notice that he was being pulled backward. It wasn’t a strong tug, in fact, it was quite easy to miss if one weren’t especially perceptive, but it was there all the same. One quick glance around the room confirmed the culprit; Alice Adair was staring at him from several feet away. No sooner had their eyes locked than she made a quick motion with her head, tossing it toward one of the halls that ran alongside the gym.

  Will gave a slight, nearly imperceptible nod, and the force pulling him back abruptly vanished. He had an excellent idea of what Alice would want to discuss, though he was unsure what answer he would give her. Alice was powerful—after seeing her fight in the last exam, only an idiot would question that—but Subtlety often required more than raw power to succeed. She could just as easily be a liability as an asset, if he agreed to team up with her. Ultimately, it would be her pitch that decided things for him.

  After killing a little time in a nearby bathroom, waiting for the rest of the class to wander off, Will made a path toward the side hallway where Alice was waiting.

  * * *

  “Crushed it!” Victor announced, slamming the door to Dean Blaine’s office open as the two stepped through. A few feet behind them, walking with a curious mix of weariness and excitement, was Professor Pendleton.

  “I will say that I think the talk went well,” Dean Blaine agreed. “The students seemed receptive to what you were saying. I hope that, when the inevitable comes for some of them, they are open to finding success and happiness with your organization.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ll bet I have a few ask me about getting contracts before I leave the school. Money, fame, and you don’t risk death. Who could resist?” Victor asked.

  The truth, as all of them knew, was that every student in attendance could resist, and would. There was a reason Victor didn’t give his speech to those lower than juniors; before that point, there were still those seeking glory over duty. By the time they made it this far, each and every Super in the HCP was dedicated to becoming a Hero, no matter what other offers might come their way.

  “I don’t know, if none of the boys tried to follow Clarissa home, I doubt you’re going to sway them,” Professor Pendleton said.

  Immediately, Victor’s eyes grew wide, and his bravado withered. “Cl . . . Clarissa was here? You found her?”

  “Not easily,” Dean Blaine said, giving a scathing glance to Professor Pendleton. Old a joke as it might be, teasing Victor about his crush just seemed cruel. “I had to reach out to a lot of people that don’t like being found in order to set up a meeting. She’s done the best she can to vanish from the Hero world.”

  “Can’t say I blame her, poor thing.” Victor walked over and sat down in a normal, measured way. It was a stark contrast to his usual bullish behavior. “After Globe and Intra died, that just left her, Black Hole, and The Alchemist for the DVA and media to pick apart. Since she was the only other one from The Class of Legends on that team, those jackals refused to believe she didn’t know something. Enough of that hounding, especially after losing two friends, and any of us would have flipped the bird at this whole costumed world.”

  “She’s doing much better now,” Professor Pendleton assured him. Much as he liked to rib Victor, it was no fun to actually bring the big man down. Clearly, his last jab had struck closer to the heart than he intended. “Had a bit of life in her eyes again. Hell, a few times, she almost seemed downright happy.”

  “Happy, huh? I’ll cross my fingers and hope that’s true. After what she went through, the woman deserves a bit of happiness. Like the rest of us have found.”

  “Ah yes, I was known throughout my cell block as ‘The Joyful Jailbird.’” Professor Pendleton took a seat besides his old friend and classmate, a wry grin on his face.

  “And I, in my time as dean, have learned that this is quite literally one of the worst jobs in the entire Hero community. Do you have any idea how hard it is to corral just south of a hundred Supers, many of whom are freshmen, when they are under the influences of alcohol, sexual attraction,
and living away from home for the first time? Honestly, the fact that not one HCP school has devolved into a drunken fire orgy is a credit to the Heroes that have gone before us.”

  Victor tilted his head. “A drunken fire orgy?”

  “Every year, something in the river trip gets set on fire. Even when no one present has flame-based powers, it still happens. Every year. I honestly have no idea why,” Dean Blaine said. “I just know that if those kids ever do cave in to all their post-pubescent instincts, there’s going to be fire involved.”

  “Well, at least our class didn’t . . . oh, nope. Phil and Joshua lit up some trees during a drunken sparring match,” Professor Pendleton said. “Only way we got away with it was thanks to Casper healing the trees.”

  “Back when Casper wasn’t such a pain in the ass,” Victor said. “And, of course, before Joshua was dead and Phil was a damn fugitive. Maybe a little fire wasn’t so bad, by comparison.”

  Dean Blaine and Professor Pendleton exchanged a brief glance. They’d been waiting for the conversation to take a certain turn, one that was inevitable when these three people were together, and now, it was here. With a slight clearing of his throat, Dean Blaine began to speak once more.

  “Actually, Victor, I was hoping to speak with you about the whole Globe incident. Learning he’s still alive has opened up some new questions, ones we are seeking answers for.”

  “You and half the Hero world, I’ll bet,” Victor said. “What would I know, though? When that went down, you and I were on a team half a country away. We only saw the others at team-ups and reunions.”

  “But others were working in their city,” Professor Pendleton pointed out. “Heroes that have since gone on to retire, and some of whom decided to keep paying the bills by playing in the SAA.”

  Victor’s broad face tightened as realization dawned. He carefully leaned forward in his chair, considering the expressions on the faces of both the men before him. “So, that’s what this is about. You want me to use my influence to tap some intelligence resources.”