Super Powereds: Year 3

by Drew Hayes

  “Jerome and Eliza have been keeping watch on this place. They just sent me word that around ten people arrived all at once and started milling about in the parking lot. This group seems a little too old and rough for Six-Shooter, and, if that weren’t enough, they have a special guest with them.”

  Mary could read it in Nick’s face easier than in his mind. He was concerned, and there were precious few things Mary had ever encountered that could worry Nick.

  “Nathaniel is with them,” she said.

  “Which is why I need to be out there,” Nick replied.

  “You said he has ten people with him. What are you going to do against that?”

  Nick shrugged, and then favored Mary with a cheerful smile. “I’ll think of something. I always do. You just keep everyone in here and out of the action. If they reveal themselves, Nathaniel wins, and I’ll be damned if I’m giving that little shit even a partial victory.”

  “I take it you think you can beat him,” Mary said, finally releasing her grip on Nick’s arm.

  “You know me; I never make a bet I don’t think I can win.” With that, Nick headed past the bathrooms, out the back door, and into the night.

  199.

  Nick didn’t whistle as he walked across the parking lot, away from the line and the neon lights, and into the half-dark area where a group of large men, many in leather, were all milling about. It was tempting, and it would be a good way to show them all how unintimidated he was by their size and numbers, but ultimately, Nick didn’t feel it was appropriate to the situation. Whistling would show his usual blasé attitude toward Nathaniel’s shenanigans, and Nick wasn’t feeling particularly carefree as he trudged across the sea of concrete. It was time to make Nathaniel realize that too much more poking around would lead to him having to deal with Serious Nick, a prospect that terrified those who were fortunate enough to have survived it.

  “Evening, gents,” Nick announced as he came upon the group of wide-shouldered people. He quickly noted that none wore gang markings associated with Vegas, or Nevada at all, for that matter. So Nathaniel was either using local talent or working outside the usual resource pool. That was to be expected, though, since the Evers were no longer backing Nathaniel’s plays, but it deepened Nick’s curiosity about where these goons were coming from.

  “And a good evening to you, Nicholas.” Nathaniel stepped out from the group, his orange eyes flickering in the darkness. The effect was unsettling with the shadows surrounding him, but Nick had seen that trick too many times to be bothered by it. Even before Lander, he’d thought of Nathaniel as a half-challenge, at best. After dealing with HCP caliber students, the idea of Nathaniel being dangerous was laughable. All the same, Nick kept his guard up as he watched the young man walk away from his group and move a few steps closer.

  “If you’re all here to watch the Cowgirl Rodeo, you just missed the qualifiers, but I think you can catch the shot races.”

  “Sounds like quite a thrilling event. Tell me, is that lovely blonde you had on your arm competing?” Nathaniel asked. “She’s such a fierce one, it almost seems unfair to the other contestants.”

  “Well, life isn’t exactly fair in the first place. We both know about that a little too well, don’t we?” Nick replied. “One of us gets a good power he can’t control, the other one has control of a power that creeps people out and makes him ineligible to rise through the ranks. When you really get down to it, we probably should have been friends, given our similarities.”

  “Except that you have the sort of arrogance that not even gods could pull off, and I abhor everything about you and your family,” Nathaniel replied.

  “True; plus, you’re a creepy sociopath with no redeeming or interesting qualities,” Nick said. “Guess we weren’t meant to be friends, after all. But that’s no reason we have to be enemies like this. You and the peanut gallery can still walk away.”

  “Of course you would want to call it quits when I’ve gotten you outmaneuvered.”

  Nick carefully raised a single eyebrow and glanced toward the seemingly empty street. “Do you, though? We’ve been at this a long while, Nathaniel. Do you really think I’d just come out here, on my own, with no backup or trump card to turn things around?” Nick wasn’t bluffing, but he was also dearly hoping not to be called out. Surprise assets were better than ones the enemy knew about, after all.

  “Actually, no, I don’t.” Nathaniel’s eyes seemed to brighten, the flickering orange light casting a soft glow on his pale face. “You see, we have been at this a long time, which means I know you always have contingency plans in place. I’m sure, right now, Eliza is watching us through the scope of a rifle, Jerome is ready to jump in at a moment’s notice, you have several weapons concealed on your person, and there are probably at least three other assets ready to converge the moment I escalate our encounter beyond wordplay. Which is why I’m not going to do that. My friends and I are going to peacefully walk out of this parking lot, making no aggressive moves against you.”

  “Interesting strategy. Come all the way out here just to annoy me and try to spoil my night,” Nick said. “Honestly, I’m a little impressed. It has a subtle touch that you generally lack with your schemes.”

  “Thank you. My inspiration came from a single, simple realization about you.” Nathaniel turned and began heading back toward his group of lingering goons. As he walked, he looked back and tossed out a few parting words.

  “Even the great Nicholas Campbell can only be in a single place at a time.”

  Nimble as Nick’s mind was, it still didn’t have time to work out the meaning of Nathaniel’s words before he heard the sound of people yelling from behind him. Spinning on his heel, Nick saw dark smoke beginning to stream out of Six-Shooter’s roof.

  “You goddamned son of a bitch.” Nick didn’t bother hurling the insult at Nathaniel’s face; instead, he started sprinting across the concrete, making a beeline right for the building. As he ran, Nick pulled out his cell phone and punched a number on the speed dial. It rang exactly one time before Jerome’s familiar voice greeted with a single “Hello.”

  “I need you and Eliza down here now. Nathaniel lured me out, but had people inside the club start some fires. You need to open up an escape route to get everyone out of that building as fast as possible.”

  “We’re heading down, but I think it will be all right,” Jerome told him. “All the exits still look clear, and Nathaniel’s people are leaving, so everyone inside should be able to get out.”

  “I’m not worried about people being able to get out; I’m worried about a certain someone with a knack for making fire go away deciding to play Hero. The only way to keep that idiot from doing something stupid is to make sure he sees there’s no need for it. Hence, we need to get this place empty, and fast.”

  Nick clicked off the phone as he reached the back door. Smoke was already beginning to trickle out, as were a healthy amount of people, but he managed to jostle and slam his way through the current of bodies and back into the club. As he moved, his irises began to turn from brown to a glowing, golden hue.

  Much as he hated using his power out in the open, Nick had a feeling he was going to need all the luck he could get.

  200.

  Vince was the first to notice the flames. While his ability to sense energy was dim much of the time—requiring focus to lock on to anything concrete—it was still present enough for him to feel the sudden surges of heat blooming in various locations around the building. For a moment, he took it to be some aspect of the show—perhaps the women would have to do some sort of roasting meat challenge. As the fires grew, Vince’s certainty waned. They were spreading faster than any contained flames should, and his gut told him a fire alarm should have sounded by now.

  “Mary,” Vince said. “Is Roger planning any events that involve fire?”

  She looked at him from across their small table, narrowing her eyes as she sharpened her mental focus. Those same eyes grew wide as she realized what
Vince was concerned about, and she quickly looked up at the stage, where Roger was calmly standing. After a moment of concentrated listening, she shook her head.

  “Not that I can tell. He seems—”

  Mary didn’t get to finish her comment, as Vince was already sprinting through the crowd, toward the stage. He mumbled apologies as he ran, keeping his shoving as polite and efficient as it could be, but prioritizing speed above all else. Better to leave someone with sore feet and a few bruises than let them be cooked alive.

  As Vince reached the stage, one of the bouncers attempted to stop him. There had been many patrons in previous years that drank too much and decided such lovely women were dying for their company, and though the bouncer saw the franticness in Vince’s eyes, he had to make a split-second judgment call as the silver-haired young man sped toward the stage. The bouncer’s meaty hand closed only on air, though, as Vince side-stepped him so easily that the large man wondered if he’d somehow blacked out for a few seconds. And then Vince was gone, on the stage and running toward Roger. Quick as the bouncer was to turn and try to catch up, he was still many steps behind the nimble young man.

  “Fires,” Vince said, doing his best to keep his voice down as he spoke rapidly to the confused face of Roger Brown. “There are fires in here. Four by my count, and spreading quickly.”

  Vince’s odd declaration might have required more effort to sell to the bar owner, however, at that point, panicked voices could be heard coming from one of the back areas. Roger heard the noises, took a long look at the earnest expression on Vince’s face, and waved off the bouncer approaching behind the silver-haired young man.

  “Everyone, it seems we have a small but serious fire breaking out from the kitchen,” Roger said, his voice still steady and reasonable. “We need everyone here to proceed out the nearest exit in a calm, orderly manner while the situation is cleaned up. The rodeo will resume as soon as the fire is fixed, and we’ll do a round on the house as apology for the inconvenience. Again, please move calmly to the exit nearest to you.”

  Vince braced for a stampede of half-drunk college students slamming into each other as they tried to get to safety. Instead, what happened was exactly what Roger had asked for. Every person there looked around, found the closest exit sign, and began filing out steadily. There was some jostling and chaos from the exit near the bathrooms where the first screams had come from, but even that seemed to smooth itself out as the river of fresh bodies poured through it. From that direction, Vince caught sight of a familiar face battling his way against the current, eyes shining golden as he fought his way back into the club.

  Vince was amazed at how peaceful everyone was being. He chanced a glance at Roger, who had a serene, watchful expression on his face. As he looked at the older man, Vince realized that even his own panic had abated. He knew the situation was still dangerous, and he was worried about his friends’ safety, but it was like he was looking at those emotions on the other side of a waterfall of calmness. Most people would have just taken it as an unexpected response to danger, but Vince was well-acquainted with how his body and mind reacted to stressful situations. He could be detached, certainly; however, this was tranquility on a level that he’d never achieved when shit was hitting the fan. As soon as he realized that, Vince knew. It was more hunch than provable fact, but he knew all the same.

  “You’re a Super,” Vince said, half-whispering in case the microphone in Roger’s hand was still on. No one seemed to be paying them any attention, though; most people were too occupied with peacefully exiting the building. Dimly, Vince realized he could smell smoke and see it streaming out of one of the back areas.

  Roger nodded, eyes never leaving the dispersing patrons as they emptied out of the club. “I’m nothing too special; I have a low-level auditory resonance ability. Whatever emotions I put into my voice are mirrored in the people listening. This is about the maximum I can do, though.”

  “Must be a pretty handy talent.” Vince groped about for words, trying to think of what he could say. Roger might know about most of his friends and their powers, but to him, Roger Brown was a stranger. There was no sense in revealing his abilities or HCP status to someone he wasn’t cleared to share things with. Luckily, Roger took the discussion out of Vince’s hands before he could blurt out something dumb.

  “Looks like things are clear enough for us to vamoose too.” Roger pointed toward the front exit, which was nearly empty, thanks to the efficient exodus. The only remaining people were Camille, Mary, Roy, and Alex; who’d gotten a good enough view to see Vince still lingering about. Nick hurried across the club and quickly joined them, throwing Vince a vicious glare with his once-again brown irises. They weren’t worried about Vince’s safety; that much was evident. They were there to make sure he didn’t try anything stupid that would get him exposed.

  “Are . . . are you sure we shouldn’t try to do something about the fires?” Vince could feel each of them. It would take him no time at all to go absorb them, containing the threat and damage they could do. He could end this in a matter of minutes, but if they left, there was no telling how much of the club would be eaten by hungry flames.

  “I’m positive,” Roger said, gently putting a hand on Vince’s shoulder and guiding him toward the exit. “These things happen, but I’ve got great insurance, and Lander has a capable fire department. The only thing we’ll do by butting in is get ourselves hurt.”

  Vince didn’t like the idea of walking out when he could do something; in fact, it made his stomach twist in impotent frustration. But with Roger right on him, and hundreds of witnesses who might be curious about a vanishing fire, he couldn’t see any way out of the situation.

  Since the people were gone, Vince let it go. He couldn’t have walked away if there were others in danger, but with the only casualty being something replaceable, he let himself be led out of the building and into the crowded parking lot.

  201.

  The screech of impending sirens sliced through the hushed muttering of the crowd as they milled about outside Six-Shooter. With the imminent danger passed, most people’s bodies were experiencing the slow crash that came after a rush of adrenaline. As for the HCP students, it took a bit more than a few scattered flames to truly elevate their heart rates. Roger stood out in front of the parking lot, waving off any cars that tried to enter so that there would be room for the fire trucks.

  “Everyone seems to be out,” Alex said. He’d been combing the building for a solid minute with his mind, and thus far, had failed to turn up a single remaining student.

  “That’s what I’m getting, too,” Mary confirmed. “Looks like Roger was able to evacuate everyone pretty thoroughly.”

  “I’m glad,” Vince said. “This could have gone really badly with that many people in one place. We should all be thankful—”

  They felt the explosion before they heard it, a wave of force that blew against them like a hot wind from a passing eighteen-wheeler. When the noise did hit, it was with a roar that drove many of the normal students to their knees. The HCP group was sent to the ground as well, though, in their case, it was due to tackling others for their safety. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the noise and force faded away, leaving only a ringing in everyone’s ears.

  A ringing . . . and a blown-out hole in a club that was now almost entirely engulfed in flames. The students stared, wide-eyed, at the deathtrap they’d all been partying in only minutes before. Many of them would go home that night to call their parents and loved ones. Some would change majors and life directions. Others would spend the next several days in a steady intake of alcohol.

  Nick Campbell would do none of those things. As he looked at the remains of what had so recently been a place full of fun and happiness, he truly understood, for the first time, how far Nathaniel was willing to go. This had only been his warning shot, a gambit to get Nick overly worried and off his game. When the true attack came, it would be swift and merciless. And Nick was damned sure going to be
ready.

  It was time the others were, too.

  * * *

  “His name is Nathaniel Evers. We both grew up in Las Vegas, though we are connected to very different Families. His power first manifested when he was five years old, and that pretty much marked the beginning of the end for him. Nathaniel can see other people’s fears, induce hallucinations, and feed off their terror like a psychic vampire. It ups his physical abilities considerably, though neither they, nor his illusions are what most of us would consider especially powerful. The HCP has given us a somewhat distorted scale of a Super’s abilities, though.”

  “I broke out of the illusion he threw me in within seconds,” Alice added. “True, he used something I’m not afraid of anymore, but compared to Rich’s mind-fu or Selena’s songs, it seemed pretty paltry.”

  “Nathaniel’s abilities have never been what made him dangerous,” Nick agreed. “If anything, they’ve been a detriment to him. The amount of discomfort he inherently stirs in people means that, while there is certainly always a place for him in illicit organizations, he’ll never have the necessary charisma and people skills to be a leader. This, by the way, is what I attribute his hatred of me to. Despite being a Powered, I do have enough of a way with words to rise through my Family’s ranks. Since Supers are supposed to be better than Powereds, this no doubt stirs endless ire in him.”

  “Wait, so he bombed Six-Shooter because he’s mad about you being good with people?” Vince asked. He, along with Mary, Roy, Chad, and Alice, were all gathered at Nick’s dining room table. Once things had finally settled down enough for basic communication, Nick had gathered all of the Melbrook residents and convened an emergency meeting. It was clear he could no longer protect his friends without their knowledge, and it was time they knew what was lurking out there. Though it went against his better judgment, Chad was invited with the others, since he was likely lumped in with them in Nathaniel’s eyes. After all, they did all live together in one dorm.