The commentators made it sound like the missing Dr. Millibrand was another victim, and made no mention that Mr. Gerrold was anything but a random victim too. After interviewing several bystanders—who had nothing to add besides stuff blew up and we were scared—Carl opened a split-screen dialogue with Mal Shankman.
“It’s what I’ve been saying all along,” Shankman pontificated. “Our superheroes are out of control, they think they can throw down anywhere, go to town without any regard for who gets hurt, who loses their homes or livelihood! They’ve got to be made to understand that their actions have consequences!”
“But the CAI teams work closely with the city police and emergency services, Mr. Shankman—”
“They hide behind the law! And the police, whose job is to protect us, don’t know who half of them are! What have they got to hide? And look who we hold up as paragons! Men and women who hide behind masks, who don’t think moral decency applies do them. Look at Burnout! Look at Atlas!”
“But—”
And so it went, Shankman ranting right over Carl. Quin finally turned the sound off, giving us blessed silence.
“Well, he’s a piece of work,” Seven said mildly.
Quin grimaced. “News conference tomorrow, and our own website is putting up what details we can release to the public, but Shankman’s getting most of the sound-bites because of his election campaign.”
“So how do we fight back?” Rush asked.
“We don’t,” Lei Zi said. “The public record is clear—people just aren’t in the mood to pay attention to it. Meanwhile, you don’t talk to the press. Al and Quin are on that; we just need to do our job to our usual professional standard.”
Blackstone seconded her. “When the Ring attacked Whittier Base, many people blamed the US government’s international policies. Now we’ve got the beginnings of a supervillain war, and if there’s collateral damage then people will be blaming us for not being able to stop it before it started, or simply for being the target. But we will finish this, and eventually most people will cool down and start thinking again.”
“And meanwhile that ojete rides us into office,” Riptide snarled.
Seven shrugged. “Politics.” I wished I could be as uncaring. A final scene showed the crowd of regular protestors shouting for the Domestic Security Act; already someone had pasted Mr. Gerrold’s face on some of waving placards, with How many more? printed below it. They looked professionally done. At least his widow hadn’t been one of the interviewees. Not yet at least. Oh God, did she know what he’d been doing, what he was? I hadn’t thought about his family at all, and I guiltily resolved to ask Fisher if they could give her a good story.
Our circle broke up. Seven and Riptide going back to their pool game, but Artemis caught my eye and we headed for the dining room. She wanted some face time so she could razz me over my new costume, plus Willis had promised her an omelet worth killing for and she insisted on sharing it before I went out on dusk-patrol.
* * *
With Shelly around, nobody needs an alarm clock. She woke me singing “I am the very model of a quantum-set intelligence! I‘ve information personal—oh, you’re awake!”
I threw Superpooh through her. “I'm so going to kick your quantum-ass!”
She stuck out her tongue. “Like you can. This isn’t a good time, but Dane just texted you.”
“What? Why?”
“He wants to meet up. Lots of SOS’s.”
I wanted to scream. And how was I supposed to do that, at Def-1? Then I laughed. “Text back. Say ‘Meet at noon, Sentinels’ Museum.’”
“But—”
“He deserves to know, Shell. Everybody else seems to. So, why the wakeup call?”
Her grin got wider. “Fisher’s clean. I’ve run his accounts six ways from Sunday, strip-mined his epad, broken down every case file, the man is clean clean sparkly clean. Fact, he hardly spends a dime except on smokes and whiskey, and has built up so much paid leave time his union hates him. Nothing has any connection to his casework—he has the most amazing closing record, it’s like he pulls leads out of his butt.”
I felt a million pounds lighter; I’d hated suspecting Fisher. Whatever his secret, I had no urge to mess things up for our favorite chain-smoking gumshoe by telling the CPD one of their senior detectives wasn’t what he seemed. Besides, they might already know.
I stretched. Even last night’s dream didn’t bring me down, since I’d woken up with a semi-solution.
“Shell? Do you think you could dive back into the Future Files today?”
“Sure.” She dropped to the bed beside me. “What never-going-to-happen-now stuff do you want to know about?”
“I’m not sure.” I groped to put words on my thought. “Artemis says we’re fighting with an ‘intelligence disadvantage.’ Villains Inc knows all about us—after all we have our own website—but we don’t know anything about them. Well, we know about two, but how many are there? Who are they? What can they do? What might they do?”
In my dream I’d been wandering through the darkened Dome, alone and threatened by shadowed figures I didn’t recognize. They’d posed and leered, but I’d been afraid to attack, not knowing what they could do.
“None of this ever happened before,” Shell said doubtfully. “Or at least it didn’t become part of the public record.”
“I know. I guess what I mean is, can’t you put together a list of likely supervillains? Including bad guys who just haven’t shown up yet but might be around now? If Villains Inc. stayed secret ‘before,’ maybe they would have shown up on their own in the future?”
“Oh! Blackstone and Artemis are already working on a hypothetical rogue’s gallery, assigning probabilities that the Wicked Witch has recruited them like she did Tin Man.” She laughed. “Think we’ll meet the Cowardly Lion next? I can add a list of bad guys who might be operating now and we just don’t know it, if that’s what you want.”
Since the Teatime Anarchist had left the Future Files to me, she needed my okay to release any information in them. I put on Mom’s serious, Foundation Boardroom Face. “Make it so,” I said. Then I shrieked as she started tickling. Tickle-fights, where your opponent is as solid as a dream, are one-sided and completely unfair.
* * *
Unable to go to class, I called around and got the lectures copied and emailed so I could listen to them later, and tried to distract myself with study. It didn’t work, and I finally took an unscheduled morning patrol. Southern winds still warmed the city, and Dispatch had instructions to only call me in for major incidents until we canceled the Def-1, so I enjoyed a quiet flight. I took a break atop the Sears Tower to enjoy the sun and dangle my feet over Whacker Drive.
I couldn’t help remembering what Atlas—John—had called it. Showing the flag. Letting people know we were up here, ready to help them, that they didn’t have to be afraid of us. Breakthrough-made godzillas. City-shattering earthquakes. Car-flattening iron dragons. How afraid will people get?
I landed at the Dome’s portico doors, waving back at the applause, cheers, boos, and cat-calls. “Ma’am,” one of the two patrolman on duty said, touching his cap.
The park police had cordoned off a stretch of ground to the right of the Dome’s main doors so the permanent protestors didn’t block the pedestrian avenues. For our part, we’d let the CPD put two officers outside in the Dome’s portico. The current Superintendent of Police wasn’t exactly our friend, but the Dome and the Memorial were city landmarks and tourist attractions, so the mayor made sure things stayed friendly on our front porch.
“Morning, Gabe.” I gave the officer a smile. “Are the concerned citizens restless?”
“No ma’am. Well, we’ve been issuing warnings, but it’s mostly because of tourists here for the museum and memorial. Couple hours ago a pair of Wisconsin cheeseheads nearly threw down with some of the mouthier ones. Didn’t like the language they were using, if we hadn’t stepped in, they’d have had the whole pack on them.”<
br />
“Thank you, you know we appreciate it.”
He smiled back. “Can’t complain. I was there for the Paulina Street incident—we like you fine where you are.”
“No.” I groaned, rolling my eyes.
“Ma’am?” He winked. “We like the uniform change, too. Lookin’ fine.”
“Rat! I blush, Gabe!” Laughing despite the heat in my cheeks, I waved to his partner beside the far column and went inside, feeling better.
Chapter Twenty
We upgraded the Dome’s security after the Ring attacked Whittier Base. The ground floor used to be almost entirely open to the public, with only an armored guard (Platoon) inside the main entrance to spot incoming threats and an observer at the reception desk, usually Tom (also Platoon), to ride herd over the traffic in the Atrium. Now we had an extra station just inside the doors, where a second pair of guards (still Platoon) handed out visitor badges to everyone entering. The monitored badge station gave each visitor an unobtrusive biometric scan, matching them against our known-threat database, and the radio-tagged badges tracked visitors’ movements throughout the Dome. Heat-sensitive, the badges couldn’t be removed without tripping an alarm, and they triggered an alert if the wearer went where he wasn’t supposed to or stayed in one spot too long. Green badges meant public access. Gold badges meant secure access; wearers could take the elevator down to the secure lobby, where Bob cleared them or shut down the exits until they’d been “contained.” Paranoid, much?
Astra, Notes From a Life.
* * *
Dane arrived between tours, got a green badge, and headed for the almost empty museum. They gave me the heads-up when he arrived, and I found him in the new First Sentinels Exhibit, staring at the life-sized wax figures that stood watch from behind glass at the center of the room. Shelly closed the doors and locked us in.
He turned when he heard the latch.
“Mr. Dorweiler,” I said, pitching my voice lower. “Thank you for coming.” I held out my hand.
His eyes widened. “Excuse me? I’m here to meet… Crap on a cracker!”
Laughter burbled out of me. Using both hands, I peeled off the mask with its attached wig and ran my fingers through my bob.
“Dane? Dane? Hope to Dane? Yoo-hoo…” I got control of the laugh, but couldn’t stop grinning.
“Damnit Hope, you can’t—. No way—. Well, hell!”
“Uh huh. C’mon.”
Taking his hand, I pulled him over to the padded bench in front of the Blackout wall. I adjusted my cape as he cautiously sat beside me, scowling ferociously.
“Damnit, Hope, I didn’t buy it for a moment—Annabeth would have been going nuts—but I was worried!”
I flushed, remembering my cover story for disappearing for training last September. I’d hated the returning-cancer-scare excuse for my “leaving” just before the start of our freshman year.
“And when you came back and got that apartment here in the Loop instead of moving on-campus, I wondered… But you’re all still as thick as thieves at school. This explains a lot. Didn’t you trust me?”
My breath hitched and my flush burned hotter. “I don’t know; it felt like, the fewer people knew the less real it was?” I played with my cape, unable to meet his eyes.
“It was our first real fight, you know,” he said bitterly. “Me and Annabeth.”
My stomach sank. Annabeth was a cheerful ditz, Dane such a big good-natured goof, that I’d always wondered how they ever decided anything or if they just agreed to whatever the other one wanted. Damn it, Annabeth shared everything. I owed her an apology for not letting her share this, but now what could I say? The silence stretched, got painful.
“I’m sorr—” I started.
“Look—” He stopped and grunted, mussed his male-model curls.
“Pass,” he said. “We can talk about the foul some other time.”
I nodded, relieved. “So what can I do to help? Shouldn’t you be talking to Julie or Megan?”
“Megan would make unhelpful jokes and Julie would try and argue me into staying. I don’t need an argument, I need help. I can’t lose Annabeth. And I can’t lose this opportunity. You know what it means to me.”
I nodded. I did—I’d been thinking about it all morning. Dane was only ever intense about one thing: The Game. As devoted as he was to Annabeth, it always seemed like when he was off the soccer field he was just marking time. She couldn’t go with him, and he couldn’t stay. I sighed. He’d been my second teen crush—and there was no way he ever going to learn that—and the thought of the two of them not together made me physically ill.
His shoulders slumped when I didn’t say anything. “I was hoping… Hell, you’ve always been the smart one.”
“What? You’re confusing me with Julie.”
“Nope. Julie decides what you’re all going to do, but half the time you’re the one who suggests ways and means. Especially when it gets tricky.”
“No, we just…” I sighed. “We all talk, and it happens. God, I miss it.”
“So let’s talk. There has to be something.”
I sighed again, chewing on a lock of hair. “Okay, so you have two objectives, right? Play professional soccer and keep Annabeth.”
“Right.”
“And if you turn down this offer, you’re not likely to get another one unless you have an amazing college career. So let’s define ‘keep Annabeth.’ Talk to me, Dane.”
“Well…”
“Still be Danabeth?”
“Yes!”
And I saw it, like staring at an optical puzzle for hours and suddenly have it turn into a pretty flower because you squinted just right. It was simple. Not easy, but simple. I suppressed an eye-rolling, Shelly-style duh.
“Dane, I know you’ve always thought the Bees were inseparable, but didn’t you ever think about eventually? Like eventually you’re going to move in together? Trade rings? Have a basket of babies? Real adult stuff?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“What you’ve got going now won’t work for this, not long distance with no goal in sight.” I stood up and paced. “If you’re leaving town, Annabeth needs to know what she’s waiting for, so get down on one knee. Set a date for next year. Then go off and give the Red Bulls the most amazing rookie year they’ve ever seen while racking up frequent-flyer miles. If you can’t convince the Chicago Fire to take you after that and come home, well, Annabeth can go to school in New Jersey next year. Or one of you can get on a plane every weekend.”
I held my breath and waited for his stunned look to pass. A wide grin slowly split his face.
“You think she’ll go for it?”
Well, duh. “I’ve only known her for three years and she’s still surprising me, but if you don’t think she’s already Annabeth Dorweiler in her head, then you’ve taken too many hits from that ball.”
He stood up. “I’ve got Gram’s engagement ring, and I know Annabeth’s ring-size.”
Yes! “So go. Woo. Score one for the team. We can talk about my foul later.”
“The ref ignored it. So, Astra, huh?”
“Apparently.”
“What’s it like?”
A huge sigh. “I used to have time to at least think about boys,” I said wistfully.
He looked at Atlas’ figure, posed in his first, cheesy costume. “Is it true about…”
“Yeah. Everything but the scandalous bits.”
“I’m sorry.” He was bouncing to go, but he stopped himself. “Hope…” Grabbing my face, he kissed me hard. “I knew I could depend on you. Thanks.” He was gone before I could catch my breath.
“Woo-hoo!” Shelly said, popping in beside me. “You know that’s on Dome video, right? Blackmail!”
“To your grave, Shell,” I said. “To your second grave.”
“Well, duh.”
* * *
By the time I’d gotten my mask back on and exited the museum, The Dane had left the building; now that he’d seen th
e goal, he was driving for it. I waved to Tom at the reception desk, and then stared at the visitor talking to him. I’d only seen the man once, on video, but he couldn’t be here.
“Shelly?” I whispered. “Call a security situation, Atrium, reception desk, quiet.”
“Done,” she confirmed through my earbug. “What—”
Villains Inc. (Wearing the Cape) Page 14