Super Powereds: Year 3

by Drew Hayes

  “Zero, we have an issue.” Emerald Hydra’s voice crackled over his earpiece, sending a shot of dread through his spine. It took a lot to rattle that woman, but from the tone of her voice, something had achieved that lofty goal. “We’ve got new players on the field. I can barely pick up their thoughts, but their minds feel . . . warped. I don’t know how to describe it. The only thing I can tell is that they seem strong.”

  He’d been waiting for this, deep down. One Super with the power to block teleporting was rare, though not unheard of. The DVA employed one in its most secure location, after all. Getting enough to cover a whole campus, on the other hand, was damned near impossible. Same for the dome; there was no way they wouldn’t be abreast of a Super with that kind of scale. No, the simplest answer was the scariest one: they had a power amplifier in their fold. Someone was juicing up the abilities of low-powered Supers to accomplish this attack. And if they could do it on defense, it was folly to assume offense wouldn’t follow.

  “Get me to the nearest one,” Zero ordered. No doubt, this was their big move, a push to wipe out Lander’s opposition. They’d accounted for the strength of the professors, possibly even the response of the students. But there was no way they’d accounted for him. Aside from his presence being a highly guarded secret, it was a realization dictated by simple logic.

  If they’d known Zero was at this school, they’d never have come in the first place.

  * * *

  Larry and Bubbles marveled at the world that had been hidden under their feet all along. The massive concrete corridors went off in who knew how many directions, and in front of them, lifting platforms kept rising and falling, bringing with them more fellow students in gray masks and uniforms. They’d noticed that a few of the masked people wore black uniforms as well, and they’d even seen one in white. Neither had any idea what it meant; they just had a hunch it meant something.

  Around the room walked a tall woman with a soothing voice. She wore no uniform at all, just a pants suit and one of the gray masks. As she made her way around, she paused every time she found someone who had been injured, touching them for a few seconds and moving on. Burns vanished, tears dried, and broken bones were reset as she walked among them.

  Two other men were also milling about, these each wearing black suits and more masks. Despite their formal attire, they seemed more casual than the woman, greeting students as they were dropped off by the lifts and explaining that everything would be okay, they just needed to stay put. No one put up much of a fight; after the hell they’d escaped above ground, everyone was happy to have found an oasis of peace.

  “Damn it, I still can’t get a signal,” Bubbles said, tapping at the buttons on her phone. “No internet, cell, nothing. How are we supposed to check on Steve? What if he saw the report and came down and got in, and now he’s stuck up there, while we’re sitting around and—”

  “Steve is fine,” Larry assured her. “He’s smart enough to steer clear of something like this, first off. Secondly, even if he wanted to bust in, there’s that giant yellow dome keeping everyone out. I’m sure he’s more worried about us than we should be about him.”

  “All the more reason to call.” Bubbles went back to messing with her phone, and Larry felt around in his pocket for his special sunglasses case.

  His fingers closed on it, and he let out a small sigh of relief. That sigh grew exponentially as he opened the case up and saw that his frames hadn’t been damaged in the fall. At least the lenses he’d never needed to worry about; the things were made of solid lead, after all.

  Larry had abandoned his lead-lined eye makeup, along with the nickname of L-Ray to everyone but Bubbles, mid-way through his sophomore year. He’d found that he no longer wanted quite that much attention as he got older, especially since it was like hanging a sign that said “Powered” around his neck when people asked. Larry refused to be ashamed of what he was, but he also didn’t feel compelled to explain to everyone who asked about his silver-shining eyelids. The glasses had been what he started using instead. It wasn’t as quick as shutting his eyes when an attack came, but after so many years of having spontaneous X-ray vision, it took more than glancing guts to wig him out. In that time, he could pull out and don the specs as needed.

  Tonight, he wasn’t willing to take that chance. These people had gone out of their way to save his life, and had opened up their secret base to offer him sanctuary. Maybe that fell in line with normal Hero duty, maybe it didn’t. All he knew was that he owed them, and respecting the secrecy of whatever faces might lurk under those masks was the least he could do.

  243.

  Shane felt the hot pain carve its way through his leg before he even registered the loud cracking sound of the gun firing. He fell against the soft grass, already too aware of the footsteps racing toward him. Stupid. It had been stupid to try and cross this open area. It had been stupid to split up from Chad so his friend could run a group to the base. It had been stupid to do a perimeter sweep alone. He knew better than that, had been trained better than that, but it didn’t save him from making key mistakes in the heat of actual conflict. Now, he was going to pay for those mistakes, unless he acted quickly.

  Flipping onto his back, Shane was momentarily knocked dizzy by the movement and blood loss. He could see the three men coming, dressed in the same combat gear as every other squad he’d managed to avoid so far. There was no avoiding these three. Their weapons were trained on him; it was clear they were lining up their shots. If he hurried, if he was precise and quick, he could cut them all down. There would be no time for wounding, however. Shane had to kill them. He had to cut their lives away with their flesh, and as he tried to focus, that thought kept bounding back to the front of his mind. He’d never killed before, and as he looked at their approaching forms, Shane DeSoto did something he’d never done before. Shane hesitated.

  It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Even as he tried to refocus, Shane knew it was pointless. The bullets would shred him long before he could counterattack. All that was left was to wait for the inevitable.

  This time, he heard the bullets before he felt them; chiefly because they never hit Shane at all. Instead, they ricocheted off a golden wall that had suddenly materialized in front of him. At a single glance, he knew who had created it. Save only for its owner, there was no one in the world more familiar with the golden metal than Shane. He’d been fighting against it for as long as he could remember.

  As the sound of bullets died away, Shane realized he could make out the noises of a battle taking place on the other side of the wall. It wasn’t what he was accustomed to hearing, though. Rather than the soft slaps and ruffles of blows striking flesh or clothes, Shane heard a cacophony of light-whistles, painful screams, and wet sloshes. He tried to pull himself up to look, but his leg refused to bear his weight and the wall blocked his view even as it protected him. Then, with one last sound of something crashing to the ground—and splashing into a puddle by the sounds of it—the fight was over. The golden wall disappeared, revealing Angela in her usual suit of Sunlight Steel armor.

  He was glad to see her, not to mention relieved that he was no longer about to die. She shone under the stars, a pillar of power and protection. For a moment, all Shane felt was thankfulness, relief, and joy. That wonderful moment marked the last time he would ever see his sister in exactly that way, and it ended as his gaze continued downward to find the bodies of his attackers. Or, rather, the pieces of them he could still recognize as human.

  Shane was barely able to get his stomach facing the ground before the first wave of vomit escaped. It stung as it left him, burning along with the tears that were pouring unbidden from his eyes. He’d always known the duty of a Hero. He’d always been perfectly aware of what he was training for. But to know it and to see it scattered in the grass, bits of blood and sinew still clinging to her golden weapons . . . that was a whole other beast.

  “Shhhh. It’s okay.”

  Angela was standing over him
, gently stroking his back as his vomiting turned to dry heaving and slowly began to die off altogether. He braced for the joke, for her teasing, but neither came. She just stood over him, offering comfort and keeping him safe.

  “I’m . . . fine,” Shane managed to grunt out at last. He began to pull himself up, but the fierce, shooting pain in his leg made it clear just how not fine he was.

  “Like hell you are. A few inches over, and they’d have hit your femoral artery. As it is, we need to get you underground and to a healer.”

  Shane let out a soft snort. “I don’t think I’m walking anywhere.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask you to.” Shane felt a massive hand close around him, completely enveloping his torso. He glanced down to find a giant golden gauntlet hovering in the air as it hefted him upward, Angela standing a few feet away and presumably guiding the process. “Don’t worry, little brother. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Thank you,” Shane said. He felt worthless, ashamed, and defeated as he floated along next to his sister. She hadn’t hesitated, not even for a moment. She’d seen what needed doing and had acted without a second’s thought. For the first time in all of his years trying to catch her, Shane finally understood how different they truly were. “Not just for the lift, for saving me too. I . . . I should have been able to handle them, but . . .”

  “Shane, I’m going to tell you something that I’ve known for a long time. The gods played a very cruel prank when they made you, little brother, because they took one of the most murderous powers I’ve ever seen and gave it to a boy with an impossibly kind heart. Don’t apologize for not wanting to take a life, and don’t you dare feel bad for it. Killing isn’t supposed to be easy. You’re not the one who is messed up here.”

  “I’m not that kind. All I do is train and practice. I’m not even like Chad, who spends his time helping others improve. The only thing I’ve ever focused on is getting stronger,” Shane admitted.

  “We grew up in a house full of Heroes. And we saw so many of them fall. There were only two conclusions we could reach in that sort of environment: either to not be Heroes, or to be as powerful as possible so that we could live a little longer,” Angela replied. “You’ve known the score since you were a child, Shane. Them, or us. On the battlefield, that’s how it is, and we’ve seen the headstones to prove it. You’ve had all that drilled into you for so long, and yet you still train in non-lethal combat. When the time comes to kill, you look for another way. That’s how I know you have a kind heart. Because a normal person can’t hold on to that goodness while living in our kind of world. It breaks them inside, takes away the little morality checks that keep us human. It turns them into someone like me.”

  “Angela—”

  “Don’t.” Angela shook her head, causing a metallic rattle through her armor. “We both know I’m fucked up. I made my peace with that a long time ago. But I’m glad you’re not like me, little brother. Hell, I’m proud you’re not like me.”

  They walked (well, floated in Shane’s case) in silence for a few moments, save for the far-off sounds of gunshots on occasion.

  “Charon,” Shane said finally.

  “What did you call . . . Sharon died a long time ago, Shane. Are you getting confused from blood loss?” Angela picked up the pace, and Shane felt himself being jostled about.

  “No, stop! I mean, slow down.” The hand dropped to a slower pace, and Shane found himself grateful that he’d already spent all of his stomach’s contents on the grass. “I said ‘Charon.’ It’s the name of the ferryman in Greek literature who brings people across the river Styx. One who ushers in the dead, if you will. I was planning on using it as my Hero name, you know, to fit my creepy shadow-cutting vibe, but honestly, I don’t think it would fit anymore. You’ve had trouble thinking up a Hero name, right? Well, you can have that one.”

  Angela tilted her armored head as she considered the offer. “Charon, huh? I’m fond of the name, obviously, but for a Hero it sounds kind of mundane.”

  “Yet you are anything but.”

  “But they won’t know that, at least not at first. Still, I do like that bringer-of-death thing. Plus, it’s a gift from my dear little brother, and a reminder of one we lost. All right, I’ll take it. Thanks.”

  “It is, sadly, the least I can do.”

  “Chin up,” Angela said. “We’re almost to a lift, and once you’re patched up, we’ll get you back up here and in the fight. Only, this time, you’ll have a partner.”

  244.

  The bank of fog whispered up the side of Lander’s Foreign Language building, moving far too quickly for a normal bank of moisture being bandied about by wind. As it reached the top, the fog drew closer together, twisting and binding until it took the shape of an adult man. He was wearing simple clothes and one of the generic gray masks, like the students. It wasn’t because he didn’t have a costume and code name all of his own, though; Wisp had just never bothered to get new duds made. He wasn’t a Hero anymore; that could only happen temporarily if he was given emergency reactivation, and he’d never actually anticipated such an event happening. He blamed himself for that oversight. As a Subtlety Hero and pessimist, he should have known it was only a matter of time.

  “I’ve got eyes on one,” he said, tapping the com piece in his ear. “It looks like a giant insect hybrid or something. My guess is shifter, though it seems to have a lot of weird appendages. Maybe it’s someone who can touch insects and gain their power.”

  As Wisp watched the creature clawing its way up the side of Brenner Hall, it opened its mouth and fired a line of sticky liquid that solidified as it hit the ground. It took two more strands before Wisp realized exactly what he was seeing.

  “Widen that power set to bugs in general. I’m watching this thing spin a web as we speak.”

  “Roger that,” Impact said. “I’m sending Black Hole over to deal with it.”

  “This doesn’t rate Zero’s involvement?”

  “Look to your northeast,” Impact instructed.

  Wisp complied, not bothering to ask how she’d known which direction he was facing. As soon as he was paying attention, he saw the sparks of bright red light flashing in the indicated direction.

  “Insanely strong energy-projector. Her beams can cut through whole trees without breaking, and the shield she raised is too strong for even my projectiles to break through. She’s the top threat in terms of destruction, so that’s the one Zero is heading off to face.”

  “Yeah, seems like a pretty good call,” Wisp agreed. “That’s two of them; what’s left?”

  “We’ve got a speedster moving too quick to pin down, a telekinetic or possible full advanced mind that’s staying low, and a strongman that’s leaping around. All of them are too powerful for me to take out at range by myself.”

  “Then who do we have going after whom?” Wisp asked.

  “Since they’re all moving around so much, we’re switching to a quadrant response system. You’re to meet up with Zero and his target once they’re neutralized, though. We need to find out where the anchor and shield-maker is pronto.”

  “On it.” A younger Hero would have protested at being cut out of the action. Wisp could fight; after all, if he was defenseless, they’d have never given him the cape. Age and experience gave perspective, however, and Wisp understood that he wasn’t being cut out of the action at all. He was being trusted to do a job that only he could do, just as Zero was the only one who could stop the energy-projector with minimal casualties.

  The fog descended back down the side of the building and onto campus, eager to begin what Wisp hoped would finally be a successful interrogation.

  * * *

  Alex leapt nearly a foot straight up at the small burst of air and sound that came from behind him. He spun around, ready to do battle, only to find a familiar smile staring back from under a gray mask. Were he to pull it back at that moment, he would send pink-streaked hair tumbling out.

  “Any new finds t
o report, Obi Wan?”

  “Not so far.” Unlike most of the other students, who were using whatever nickname had first popped into their heads, Alex was greatly enjoying his. Though he could never make it his actual Hero name due to the myriad of licensing and royalty issues, it was nice in the moment. Plus, it meant a lot to him that people were finally beginning to at least humor him when it came to how his power worked. He’d have preferred outright belief, but at this point, progress was progress.

  “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be checking in through Short Brain?” Alex asked. He and Mary were both scouting for people in trouble, but since she had the larger range, she was the checkpoint for more of the class.

  “Maybe I wanted to pop by and make sure you were still doing okay,” Sasha admitted.

  “Relax, I’m one of the safest people here. I’ll get ample warning before anyone—”

  This time, it was not a slight burst of air and sound that came from behind, but instead, what felt like a miniature hurricane coupled with the sound of a cannon being fired. They both turned to find a man in mundane clothes staring back at them. Even without the context clues, they would have known in a moment that he was a Super. It was all in the eyes. They weren’t an abnormal color; in fact, they were a rather dull shade of brown. No, what gave it away was that his eyes were vibrating in their sockets, scanning about so fast they almost looked like white blurs.