The Good Fight

by Scott Bachmann

  “Then maybe it’s a problem with the Hall?” Technico asks, turning and looking him straight in the eyes. Jamal takes one step back. Another. Then turns and runs as fast as his legs can take him in the opposite direction.

  “Sorry Rocco,” he pants. “I don’t wanna die.”

  * * *

  “ALL BYY MYYSEELLFF!” I belt out at the top of my lungs. “DON’T WANNA BE ALLL BYY MYYSELLLFF ANYMORE!” Yes, it’s an ancient song, one that I don’t remember most of the lyrics to. But I don’t have to. What I remember is plenty enough to irritate whoever can hear me. So far, though, nobody’s seemed to notice. Man that’s boring.

  Yes, I realize I’m in a cell with a laser wall in front of me strong enough to turn me into cinders. At least it’s not one of the soundproof cells like they have in the South Branch. Yeah, they caught me for a while, too. But I can get out! These stupid collars just take a well placed shadow and a little focus to get around—

  Focus . . .

  Focus . . .

  Isn’t doing a freaking thing this time. I let out an angry bellow and kick the wall. All it does is hurt my foot. I drop down in the corner, taking off my shoe to look at my toes and make sure they’re not broken or something. Not that I’ve ever had a broken bone in my life, no matter what stupid things I do, but I’m powerless at the moment. Like a norm. It could happen.

  I glance up as someone pulls to a stop in front of my laser door. What am I, some sort of animal at the zoo? “Whaddaya want?” I ask, moving my toes. They don’t seem to be broken! “Visiting hours are over.”

  “Oh, I’m not here to visit,” a familiar voice says. I go perfectly still, feeling something like dread forcing my head to raise. “Hello, Rocco. Miss me?” Marigold asks.

  I’ve changed my mind. Being all by myself would be great right about now.

  * * *

  Jamal falters, tripping over a curb and face-planting on the sidewalk. He’s run MILES and he can’t go any longer. “Are we done yet?” Technico asks from above him.

  “What’s wrong with you, man?” Jamal demands through gasps. “You don’t just go chasin’ down a twelve year old! That ain’t right! That’s harassment!” he demands.

  “I chased you for an extremely simple reason,” Technico says, landing in front of him. “You ran. Any kid that runs as soon as they see a Hall member usually has a reason for it.”

  Jamal looks at him, frowning. “Why aren’t you wearing a uniform?” he demands.

  “I’ll tell you—if you tell me why you almost wet yourself looking up at Lady Justice,” he says, walking over and dropping a hand on Jamal’s shoulder. “Over here looks good,” he adds, leading the boy to a bench.

  Jamal looks at him, chewing on his bottom lip for a second. “You used to be a super villain, right?”

  “Yeah, I was.”

  “Was it by mistake? Cuz that’s what happened to Rocco. And now he’s stuck in the Hall and they might stick him in the Cape Cells, just cuz he was trying to save me from that guy who kept making me sell drugs! It’s not right! How is that justice?” he demands, his outrage making him forget just who he’s talking to. “They need a different statue if they’re going to treat people like that! He’s one of you, even!”

  “One of us?” Technico asks.

  “A super!”

  * * *

  “Lower the laser wall, I’ll be taking the boy,” Marigold says. “He’s got his dues to pay.” The lasers spark, then disappear, leaving nothing between me and this massive tank of a lady. Marigold is an ironic name for a woman that can bend steel with her pinkie fingers, or whatever. She’s got massive brass red hair and shoulders twice as broad as mine. She wears a red and gold uniform that nobody ever seemed to tell her clashes with her hair. She also towers over me by a foot.

  “Hey, why ARE you called Marigold?” I ask as she reaches in and grabs my arm, practically breaking it with her hold. My hands are handcuffed in front of me, so I can’t even try to shove her off. “Is it some sort of ironic thing? Like ’I am the night, I am Marigold’?” I ask.

  “Quiet,” she says, dragging me along behind her. “You’ve been eluding me for too long, boy. The fact that you broke in during my watch—” she growls at the thought and suddenly I’m not that eager to make fun of her name. I wish it fit her. “You’re lucky I’m a super hero, boy,” she snaps. “Otherwise you’d be in serious trouble right now.”

  “I thought the whole reason I’m in trouble was because you’re a super hero,” I have to say. I also have to say that I need to learn to shut up. I also need to learn to stay away from Firefly. Far, far, faaar away. Because she totally just sold me out.

  * * *

  “Son of a monkey!” Firefly yelps and almost drops her phone, seeing the image in the central monitor. “Who called Marigold?” she yells at the group of black suits that do the background and clean up work for the Hall. “WHO CALLED MARIGOLD?” she demands in a bellow when no one answers.

  “She must have seen something on TV, Firefly,” one of the tech guys say. “You know you’ve got a camera on you ninety percent of the time.”

  Firefly lets out a curse. “I’m so going to blow up their cameras tomorrow,” she growls, still holding the phone to her ear. “Come on, Nico, you’re wasting precious time,” she mutters, waiting impatiently for the phone to be picked up. “She’s going to drag him back to the East Branch—oh forget it, I’m calling Mastermental,” she mutters, hanging up and dialing another number.

  “Why were you trying to call your brother first, in the first place?” the tech guy asks, flushing slightly as she leans closer to look at the monitor.

  “Because the kid would fit in perfectly at Cape High,” she says.

  “But . . . didn’t he break into Fort Knox?” the tech asks hesitantly.

  “Exactly!”

  * * *

  “I think I feel sick,” I say, vying for time. “No, seriously, I always feel like puking whenever I wear things around my neck,” I tell her, giving her the most pathetic look I’ve got. “Is there any way you can loosen my collar?”

  “Really,” she says, giving me a dry look. “Do you really think the head of a Hall branch would fall for a line like that?”

  I stare at her for a moment longer, then shrug. “It was worth a try,” I admit, reaching up and touching the collar. It shocks me. “Ow! When did they add that?” I demand.

  “Central always gets the newest toys,” she mutters. The light over our heads flickers. I look at her, but she doesn’t even seem to notice until the hallway we’re going down goes pitch black. I reach up, touching the collar around my neck. No shock.

  Awwww yeah. Goodbye, Marigold! I take a step back, sliding into the shadows—except she’s still got my arm. “Leggo!” I snap, jerking at my arm. My powers are back, but she’s a tank. I’m not nearly as strong as she is!

  “I’m not letting you get away this time!” she says, even as we step through Shadowland and into—I have no idea where we are right now. I look around, since my night vision is excellent, then stare, my mouth dropping open.

  “Seriously, Mega? Tidy whities?” I ask of the man changing in the middle of the room. He’s got his mask on, and his underwear, and is in the middle of stepping into his uniform. It looks like he froze the moment the lights turned off, which makes it even funnier. “Hey, Marigold, you really shouldn’t use me for your peeping habits,” I add evilly.

  “I’m not—I never—” she says, letting go of me quickly. “I have no idea what he’s talking about!” I take a step back, leaving her there. Time to blow this joint! I stop into Shadowland, glancing around hesitantly. This place I travel through, it’s creepy. I swear that there are unidentified living objects running around, but I need to get this stupid collar off. I jerk at it, finally pinching the right place, and drop it. Good luck tracking that one, suckers.

  I feel something brush against my leg. Time to get out, I think as I step forward. Hopefully it’ll be a shadow that’s not inside—I stop, sta
ring blankly at the white haired woman who caught me in the first place. She’s got a phone in her hand and is staring blankly right back at me.

  “Wrong shadow,” I say and take a step back, leaving her behind again.

  * * *

  “You just took out the entire Central Hall’s electricity?” Jamal asks the man standing next to him.

  “I left the ER up and running,” Technico says, with a shrug. “But the generators are going to come up at any moment. Not much more I can do unofficially to save the kid, sorry,” he says, reaching up slightly to pat Jamal on the head. “If he’s as good as you seem to think he is, he should be able to escape sooner or later, now.” He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a cell phone, checking it.

  “But—what if he can’t?” Jamal asks.

  “He’s a shadow walker, right? He’ll be fine,” Technico says, shoving the phone back into his pocket without calling anyone. “You up for a milkshake? I could seriously go for a milkshake about now,” he adds, walking away.

  Jamal looks at the Hall, then looks at the crazy super that just chose what part of their electricity to kill.

  “Hey, wait up,” he calls, chasing after the crazy man. His class would never believe he had a milkshake with Technico. Maybe he should get an autograph, too!

  * * *

  It’s a maze. I have no idea where the shadows in this place are going to wind up. I’ve popped out in two different rooms with heroes already, not to mention a room with a million and one guns that look like they’re from outer space. Did I steal one? Hell no! Who knows what they really do? And frankly, supers that use guns just seems like cheating to me.

  What? The baseball bat? That’s different, I’d just been using it as an intimidation factor, okay?

  Either way, I think I’ve got it this time. This definitely feels like . . . a . . . good . . .

  I look around the obvious cafeteria, staring at half of the Central Hall blankly, but not as blankly as they’re staring at me. “Um . . . how’s the meatloaf?” I ask, climbing out from under the table just long enough to wave at everyone and get a good look (What? When else will I get the chance to see some of the biggest names around?)—man, Falconess is FINE in real life! Er, right—”Enjoy your meals,” I say before diving back into the table’s shadow.

  Or trying to. I grunt as I feel someone grab my ankle. I’m dragged straight up, until I’m staring at a pair of seriously nice legs. I look up, blinking at the sight of . . . are those sequins? You know, I always wondered when I saw Star Spangled on television! Remember how I said I never thought of an S class wearing fingernail polish? Well, Star Spangled would be the exception. I could absolutely see this blonde beauty wearing nail polish. Probably in red, white, and blue.

  “Can I ask,” she says in a surprisingly sweet voice. “Why you’re in this part of the building? I’m afraid it’s for Hall members only.”

  “Star Spangled, don’t drop him!” I hear Firefly shout from across the room. “He’s a slippery little brat,” she complains as she crosses the room. I look over at her, still hanging upside down. (Star Spangled? She’s a tank, too. I’ve heard she’s a higher class than Marigold, but I’d rather see that fight on television than in person, thank you.)

  Just as Star Spangled is about to hand me over to Firefly a giant hole is knocked through the cafeteria wall. Star Spangled automatically drops me and turns with raised fists to the intruder. I dare to glance back for a second just to see.

  Marigold. “He’s MINE!” she bellows. “Don’t let him run! He’s going straight to the Cape Cells!”

  I would laugh, but I don’t have time. I dive through the shadow under the table and race through Shadowland at top speed. I don’t care what’s in here with me at the moment, nothing is as dangerous as that old lady right now! I am leaving Central behind—and never going back, ever.

  I pull to a stop and step through the nearest portal in Shadowland, leaning against the closest wall so I can get my breath back. It isn’t from the running, it’s from being plain old fashioned terrified—

  This wall feels funny. Cold and with ridges . . .

  I slowly turn, almost scared to look.

  That looks an awful lot like a stack of gold bricks, doesn’t it? The sound of an alarm going off is quickly followed by the sound of several guns being cocked.

  “I should have turned left at Albuquerque,” I mutter, lifting my hands in the air.

  * * *

  So here I am—no, not in a jail, norms will never be able to catch me—I’m sitting on the top of Lady Liberty’s tablet, enjoying the breeze and wondering, just for a moment, if I’ll ever be a hero. I mean, all I really want to do is help kids like I was—kids that talked to the wrong guys and wound up in situations that they shouldn’t be in. If I was a hero, I’d be able to do that. As it is, every time I try to do that now I wind up in more trouble than I started in.

  Now both the East Branch and Central Branch are out for my head—I’m never going to be able to join. Maybe if it had only been East Branch I could have gotten away with it. I’ve seen them on TV, when all the Heads have to meet for something. Mastermental from Central and Marigold don’t like each other very much at all. In fact, I’m almost positive that none of them like each other—they’re just faking it for the camera really poorly. But now that Firefly, the golden child of the Central Hall, has it out for me, well, I’m screwed.

  I jerk as I hear the sound of a straw rattling in a cup. You know, that annoying sound that comes when the cup’s pretty much empty? Well, it’s coming from above me. I turn, twisting to see the person sitting on top of the statue’s shoulder. It’s obviously a super, it’s probably one from one of the branches out for my head. I am SO busted. And I’m too exhausted to run away right now, even though I know I’ll try.

  “Nice night, don’t you think?” the man asks. He’s just lounging there, trying to get that last drip out of a paper cup, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The only concession to his super state is a simple black face mask.

  “How did you find me?” I ask, moving an inch closer to the largest shadow nearby.

  “Tracking device,” he says. “It’s on your shoe,” he adds helpfully. “Beautiful view from up here. I can see why you like it so much.” You can see the city from here, lit up for the night. It really is pretty, at least I’ve always thought it was. And just being able to sit here, watching it? It’s like being a real super hero. But I’ve got bigger issues to deal with, according to him. I bring my foot up, running my fingers over my shoe in search of the tracker.

  “I didn’t do anything that deserves you hunting me down,” I mutter. “Marigold’s just got it out for me.”

  “For robbing Fort Knox,” he says.

  “I didn’t rob it! I just . . . got in,” I say. “But I shouldn’t even bother, you capes are all the same—”

  He ignores me completely, digging into his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper that’s been folded into a square. He flicks it at me, hitting me square in the face with it. I grab it before it drops into my lap and unfold it, forgetting about the tracker for a moment.

  There’s a silver shield with wings at the top of the page. It gleams in the moonlight. Underneath the shield are the words, “Cape High.” I read the page twice as I try to wrap my head around it.

  “Where we teach the capes of tomorrow, both hero and villain. Now accepting any bearer of this page as a student with full scholarship, food, and boarding. Just present this page to the Central Hall,” the man above me says in a bland tone, as if he’s memorized the sheet. “Signed by Technico, Principal of Cape High, and Mastermental, Central Hall Leader,” he adds.

  “But I can’t go into Central—” I start out, only to stop as he flies away. “Hall,” I finish a bit lamely, still staring at the paper. I wonder how long he’s been carrying this, I think as I look at the worn creases in the paper. It looks like it’s been through the wash a few times, and folded more times than I can count . . .
/>   But . . .

  I’m almost surprised when the first laugh escapes me. I give in, though, laughing my head off over the entire thing. That had to have been Technico—who’s from Central Hall—and I must have passed my entrance exam with flying colors, even if I’d had no clue it was one in the first place.

  Supers are weird, you know?

  And me?

  I’m just super.

  Back to Table of Contents

  First Date

  Cheyanne Young

  Cheyanne is the author of several Young Adult books and the Powered Trilogy is her first venture into the superhero genre. Powered is about sixteen-year-old Maci Might’s goal to become a Hero despite overwhelming evidence that she was born with villain DNA. The first book is available now and the following books will be released in the fall of 2014 and beginning of 2015.

  You can find Cheyanne at http://www.CheyanneYoung.com and follow her on Twitter @NormalChey. If you’re interested in pictures of junk food, nail polish and her dog, you can find her on Instagram at NormalChey.

  * * *

  I tug the hair tie out of my ponytail and give my head a good shake, letting the long strands of platinum blonde perfection trail down to my waist. The perfection thing was Revlon’s words, not mine. I just left my third meeting with their stylists and scientists. Humans have always had an obsession with trying to look like Supers so I was only mildly flattered with the hair dye company approached me, asking to study my follicles to see if they can replicate the perfect color knockoff to sell to consumers.

  I glance at the reflective surface of the Atrium’s glass walls, checking out my reflection. My bright blonde hair is only part of the equation. My Hero suit is where the magic happens. Black boots, black gloves, deep maroon bodysuit with curves in all the right places and a plunging neckline designed by Pepper, the greatest suit designer in history, may he rest in peace.