by R. J. Ross
“Surprisingly,” Mastermental says, “she’s chosen to move back into the Cape Cells when they’re finished. At the moment she’s staying in one of the cells at Central Hall. We’ve provided her with a new computer,” he adds. “Honestly, as long as she’s got her work, food, water, and other necessities, she’s happy.”
“So basically we’re just supporting her as she does what she really wants to do,” Isotonic says, a strange expression on his face.
“Exactly, and that’s why she was the one that didn’t run when she got the chance.”
“Why do I feel faintly used right now?” Isotonic asks.
“Because you are,” Nico says bluntly. “I can’t say anything—I did the same when I was in there. Now, on to the final three. Atlanti, Badmoon, and Massteria.” Three images pop up as holograms. “Atlanti will be heading for water—mermaid types usually do.”
“You’ve got a mermaid locked up?” Rocco demands, looking startled.
“Get the Disney image out of your head right now, kid, because Atlanti would beat you with a trout if she knew,” Shadowman says. “Besides, she’s more of an octopus type than a mermaid.”
“Why am I not surprised that you know her?” Nico asks. “Atlanti is very big on saving the creatures of the ocean—so she threw a few dozen whale hunter ships onto land, destroying several buildings and injuring norms,” he finishes dryly. “Had she gone through the proper channels, she could have done a lot of good—but her temper tends to get the best of her. We might send Malina out to find her, as well, if this trip goes well.”
“Badmoon is a wolf shape shifter with the ability to control creatures en mass,” Mastermental says, “not just wolves. He’s caused several towns to be evacuated when their pets started roaming the streets in pack form. He’s especially dangerous when near zoos. He has this habit of letting all of the animals loose.”
“We had a bit of trouble getting that group of monkeys off of that tower, didn’t we?” Century says mildly.
“They kept throwing… things,” Isotonic agrees.
“That sounds really smelly,” Rocco says, making a face. “Shadowman can find him.”
“Only if you take Atlanti,” Shadowman says.
“What does Massteria do?” Rocco asks.
“Confusion inducement,” Nico says. “He’s a psychic that likes to spread confusion and fear. Too many horror movies as a kid, I think. Now I’m not saying these guys aren’t dangerous—they are. But our first goal should be getting Deathblow out of the picture before they have enough time. With a bit of effort Massteria can cause an entire city to go into riots and panic mode. That’s how he got tossed into the Cape Cells in the first place.”
“Wouldn’t Massteria be the most dangerous, then?” Marigold asks.
“It takes him time to set up,” Mastermental explains. “With large groups you have to slowly spread out. We’re counting on that fact to give us time to catch the killer types first.”
“Since there are six of them and five branches, we should all start doing what we can to find them,” Century says. “There’s no logic in all of us focusing on ONE when we have a decent sized group of capes.”
“I agree,” Mastermental says. “But we’ll allow you to try and talk Bombastic into returning, Nico. That shouldn’t take long.”
“We can look, but it seems to me you have an unfair advantage with your finders,” Marigold says.
“That’s why I’ve brought Rocco here,” Nico says with an evil little grin. “He’s looking to branch out, so to say.”
“I want to go anywhere I want without having to fill out paperwork,” Rocco says, hopping to his feet. “So let’s talk sponsorships!”
“And what about Shadowman?” Isotonic asks.
“He’ll be doing this for anyone that needs him, to try and keep out of the Cape Cells,” Nico says. “Consider this his parole.”
***
It’s not on the news. That fact irritates him. Deathblow scowls at the television at Best Buy, wondering if he can get someone to change the channel. Maybe it’s on their HTV—but do norms even get to see that channel? He doesn’t know, he never paid attention before he was thrown into the slammer. He didn’t pay attention to a lot of things, actually. Now, though, he’s had years to think about what he would do if he ever got out.
There’s something he promised himself he would do before going out and rampaging through the world like he used to. It might take a little while, so he needs to keep his head down—which is hard, he thinks darkly. It’s like he’s been tossed into the biggest candy store in the universe and he’s starving, but he can’t do anything about it. If he starts too soon he’ll never get to the best part before they start hounding him again.
He reaches into the pocket of the coat he stole (which sort of covers his skin-tight uniform), digging out a grubby receipt from McDonald's. There are six names on the list, which he stares at for a long, long moment.
“Can I help you, sir?” a chubby man in a blue shirt asks. “If you’re looking for a television—”
Deathblow turns, looking at him for a long moment. “Do you know where I can find Massteria?” he asks.
“Massteria? I think it’s… you mean the eighties’ movie, right?”
“Not the movie, just Massteria,” he says.
“Is it a video game?”
Deathblow’s hand itches. He clenches it, forcing down his urges, and turns and walks away. He has a list—he has to follow the list—it’s all about the list. After the list he can come back and take care of this guy. His hand tightens on the list for a moment as he walks out of the store. Where would Massteria go, first? Somewhere dark, he decides as he looks at the sky.
Behind him, the man in the blue shirt smiles an unnaturally wide grin before walking out of the store. “Mike?” his boss calls after him. “Mike, it isn’t your break time yet—” his hand falls as his worker just keeps walking, not even responding to his call.
“Boss? The stall in the bathroom is locked,” one of the others say. “We think Mike’s in there.”
“What? But Mike just—” the boss says, looking confusedly at the exit. “What in the hell is going on here?”
Completely oblivious, Deathblow keeps walking, his mind on the problem at hand. Massteria can't fly. In fact, there's nothing impressive about the other man's physical abilities at all. Of the group, Massteria is the least likely to have gotten very far. Deathblow is betting on it.
Deathblow can't fly, right now, either. That would be stupid. Even he's noticed that the major names of the area have set up round-the-clock patrols. At the moment it's the Liberty couple. They've spread out, but he caught a glimpse of Star Spangled just a little while ago. He would LOVE to have a go at her, he admits silently, but he has a more important target. If the fight gets too intense, it could send Massteria running even faster. He doesn't want that to happen.
No, he thinks as he strolls down a random street, trying his best to fit in, he needs to do this logically--methodically. Where would Massteria head? He had never said anything about a base, or even a favorite Hall. Most of his talk had been about stupid horror movies of the past. Deathblow stops as he sees a gas station on the corner. There's one thing that might help. He heads inside, ignoring the strange looks that he gets, and grabs one of the newspapers.
"Hey--hey, you can't just leave with it!" the man at the counter says as he starts out the door. "You have to pay for tha--" Deathblow looks at him for all of a moment before the man swallows loudly. "Um, never mind. Have a nice day," he says as the world seems to hold its breath.
Deathblow heads out, the bell over the door ringing loudly behind him. He walks right past a group of thugs standing near the door, only to stop as he sees one of them staring at him. "You," he says, pointing at him. "Strip."
"You can't just go up to some guy and tell them to strip!" one of the others says. "At least offer to buy him dinner, first!"
The rest of the group starts to laugh, but it'
s a fake laughter. They move forward, surrounding Deathblow and pulling various weapons out of their pockets. He ignores them. "Give me your pants," he says to the one whose clothes look like they'll fit.
"Who's going to make me?" the guy asks, staring him in the eye. One of the others makes the first move, hitting Deathblow with a metal pipe. The pipe vibrates so hard he drops it, cursing. Deathblow doesn't even budge. There are people all around, most of them pointing little machines at them. Deathblow ignores them.
"He--he's a super," the one that had hit him says, taking a shaky step back before turning and running like a coward. The others in the group look from Deathblow to the guy he's trying to steal from before running away, as well.
"Now," Deathblow says, stepping forward. "Give me your pants."
"Aren't--aren't you supposed to rob people when you AREN'T surrounded by witnesses?" the man asks, swallowing loudly.
"Norms," Deathblow says. "They don't matter--"
"HELP! HELP!" someone starts shouting from the crowd. "STAR SPANGLED! AMERICA'S SON! WE NEED YOUR HELP!"
Deathblow lets out a sharp curse and takes off, running down the street so fast that the dust kicks up. He dives into an abandoned building, and then goes perfectly still, not daring to breathe for a long, long moment. Stupid, he thinks darkly. He's falling into bad habits already. He had JUST sworn to keep from garnering attention!
After a few silent moments pass by he opens the newspaper, searching for the movies. His eyes run over the page until they stop on what he was looking for. Looks like he needs to head downtown, well, after he gets some pants.
CHAPTER THREE
*Bombastic’s Isle #2*
“Got it?” I look up, pushing my hair out of my face and shaking my head. “You need to focus, Keliah, the fish are stupid but their instincts are right on. Keep calm and still and they’ll forget you’re there, don’t and they won’t.”
We’re fishing! Well, I guess you could call it fishing. I’m in the middle of the stream, trying to catch a fish with my bare hands. Grandpa Bombastic has already caught three of them. I haven’t caught a single thing—except a rock. I don’t think the rock counts. Right about now I should be really irritated, right? But it’s actually pretty nice. It’s beautiful, I’m barefoot, and the cool water feels awesome. It turns out that this is another one of the islands he rebuilt before getting caught. There’s a bunker underground and everything. That’s where we slept last night. I got the top bunk.
The bad part is the food—sure the fruit is great, but all the stuff he had hidden? It’s nasty. Forty years is way too long to be kept in storage. He told me to just eat it, since supers can live through eating anything, but that sentence alone made me nauseous. This morning I stared at the pile of white wrapped items with such disgust that Grandpa had said, “Let’s go fishing.”
That’s how we got here.
I jump as something brushes against my fingers, letting out a tiny squeal before realizing that it had just been a fish. Grandpa starts roaring with laughter, much to my shame. “That—what was THAT? A mouse squeak?”
“I didn’t see it coming!” I protest. “It had some sort of stealth mode!”
“A fish with stealth mode? Not likely,” he says. “You just weren’t paying attention. Go back to it.”
“Aren’t we going to train?”
“This IS training,” he says. “If you’re going to be a Falconess you need to learn to hunt properly,” he says as he starts to clean the fish. “Patience is a big part of your future job. Your Grandma sucked at it.”
“Wh—what?” I ask.
“She got bored,” he says, grinning as he guts a fish. “I used to get calls in the middle of the night, where she’d order me to tell her stories so she didn’t go insane doing her rounds.”
“So she sucked at being a hero at first?” I ask, eager to hear the story.
“To tell the truth, the Falconess were always big on walking the line between good and bad,” he says. “I think they call them ‘Antiheroes’ now? Some of your ancestors were downright villainous in their own right, claiming that the ends justified the means. Your great-grandmother, now I’ve got some stories about her that you can’t hear until you’re eighteen.”
“No way,” I say, falling back into the stream with shock. “Now you HAVE to tell me!”
“No I don’t,” he says. “Let’s just put it this way—your grandma marrying a super villain was practically vanilla in comparison—”
“Marrying?” I say. “You and Grandma were MARRIED?” I jump out of the stream. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”
“I shouldn’t have mentioned that, huh?” he says a bit sheepishly. “I’ve got to practice on keeping things to myself. I seem to have fallen out of the habit—” He stops, going still for a second before turning to look at the forest. “They’ve come,” he says silently, grabbing me and taking to the air. We’re flying at top speed before I can even ask what he’s talking about. I bury my face against his shoulder, trying to breathe.
***
Rocco pulls back into the Shadowlands, wondering what to say to the woman standing behind him. Getting Falconess to come along had been easy enough, he’d just showed up at Central Hall and she was already ready to go. But telling her that her daughter was with the second most dangerous villain from the Cape Cells? And that he can’t get to them until they’re no longer over the ocean? NOT so easy.
“Is there a problem?” Falconess asks.
“You found him, right?” Malina asks.
“He…” he pauses, frowning as it hits him. “He must have picked up on me, somehow. He ran.”
“He ran,” Malina repeats.
“Yeah, he grabbed—um—well he grabbed something and ran,” Rocco says. “Do super villains usually do that if they’re not my dad?”
“What did he grab?” Falconess asks.
“Um… well… your daughter?” Rocco says hesitantly.
“My what?” Falconess repeats, her expression sharpening dangerously.
“Yeah… um, Keliah IS your daughter, right?”
Falconess shoves past him, only to step further into the Shadowlands. “Don’t just stand there, GET HIM!” she snarls, grabbing him by the shirt.
“I can’t—at least not until they land on ground again,” Rocco says, swallowing loudly.
“Yes you can,” Malina says. “There are plenty of shadows at the bottom of the ocean.”
“But we’ll… drown?” he offers, looking at her as if just realizing. “Okay, let’s go,” he says, not giving her time to respond other than a dry look.
***
“Grandpa?” I manage to ask as he slows down slightly. “WHO found you? I didn’t hear anything—and I’ve got good hearing!”
“Someone was watching us,” he says, pulling to a stop over the ocean and looking around. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m a little paranoid now. Maybe it was nothing, but there are capes out there that can do that sort of thing.”
“We just left our fish—it’s probably getting all maggoty even as we speak and all I’ve eaten for the past two days is fruit and strange, out-of-date cardboard,” I say, getting frustrated. “If it WAS a super, why didn’t you just deal with—”
“Do you want me to add cape murder to my list of sins?” he demands. “Do you want to send me to the Cape Cells for the rest of my life? As it is, there’s the tiny hope that someday they might say I did my sentence—that someday I can come here and retire—but that’s stupid,” he says before I can. “I ruined that with my running.” He almost drops me in the ocean as he realizes that. He lets out a curse, hugging me closer for a long moment. “I still won’t do it,” he says finally.
“Do it?”
“I won’t fight,” he says, looking me in the eye. “They’ll take you as a kidnapping victim, it’ll be added to my felonies, but you’ll be taken home and kept safe.”
“No,” I say, only to be surprised when I hear it. “No,” I repeat again. “I won’t let
that happen—sure you DID kidnap me, but Grandma would have left me sleeping on the ground and eating bananas all week, so it’s WAY better being kidnapped! At least last night I had an actual bed! So—so if YOU won’t fight, I will!” I declare brashly. “I’ll tell them—I’ll tell them that I kidnapped YOU!”
He stares at me in shock for a long moment. When I glare at him with my fiercest look he starts to laugh. “They’ll never buy it—” he stops, turning as a splash of water hits us both.
“Let go of my daughter,” Mom says, looking soaked but dangerous as her wings come out. Malina is standing behind her with Rocco holding onto her arm. He’s still in the water up to his waist.
“Your—” Grandpa says, looking stunned. I feel his arms tighten around me.
“No!” I say, squirming to try and face Mom. “I kidnapped him!” I declare boldly. “And if you want to get him, you’ll have to go through me!” I hold out my arms at my sides, trying futilely to block him from her. Have I mentioned that he’s over six feet tall? Well, I’m not, I’m like, five foot five. It’s really hard to block someone when they’re a foot taller than you, and a lot broader.
“Don’t lie, Keliah,” Mom says. “He’s a Cape Cells convict.” She waits for me to react, but she can wait all day long as far as I’m concerned. It didn’t shock me the first time, it won’t shock me now.
“I know,” I say. “I broke him out!” I add boldly. “He’s my—my first big caper as a super villain!”
“Keliah,” Grandpa says, leaning down so he’s next to my ear, “I’m going to drop you, sweetheart. When you hit the water, act like the brainwashing wore off—”
“Do you HAVE brainwashing abilities?” I ask him dryly, not bothering to lower my voice.
“Of—Of course I do,” he says, trying to sound offended. “Every super villain should have brainwashing abilities.”
“Grandpa, forget the brainwashing idea--just fly,” I say, rolling my eyes. He looks at Mom for all of a second before taking off at top speed.