The Aberrant Series (Book 2): Super Vision

by Franklin Kendrick

  “Wow. You really are oblivious!” Mae lets out a laugh. “Your phone checked you into the area. You must have had it set to auto update.” She straightens her shoulders as she pulls us off the highway. “It’s amazing what you overlook when a pretty girl shows up.”

  My cheeks redden and my neck becomes hot. Great, Mae, I think. Way to make me self-conscious. I have to run my hand over my nose and mouth to get rid of the awkward expression on my face.

  “I’ll work on that,” I say. “There isn’t time for fooling around. Not with The Drone back. What if Kimberly had been killed? What if you had been killed...” I pause, listening to the sounds of the car engine. Then, “Do you have any theories about how he is suddenly back?”

  Mae taps her fingers on the steering wheel.

  “I can’t say for sure,” she says. “All I know is, when I touched his suit of armor, I had another vision.”

  “A vision?” I say, suddenly remembering that part. “You mean like the one you had when you touched the Vestige?”

  She nods. “The only difference this time is that I didn’t see a cave. Instead I saw a facility.”

  I pull out my phone and launch the notes app, prepared to type out anything of use.

  “Can you remember any details?” I ask, my thumbs poised to type.

  Mae presses her lips together.

  “Not very much,” she says. “It was very clean. There was a hallway that stretched quite a long way, and then there was some sort of surgical room. Lots of mechanical gears and parts.”

  I type everything down.

  “Anything else?” I ask.

  Mae thinks for a moment then shakes her head.

  “Nothing else,” she replies. “It’s really hazy. I’m still trying to get used to that ability.”

  I save the note and add it to my cloud backup.

  “Anything’s better than nothing,” I say. “I think it’s safe to say that somebody has resurrected The Drone. He couldn’t have done all this on his own - creating a mechanical suit. I don’t even know how it’s powered.”

  “The big question is this,” says Mae. “Is he still after the Vestige? With all this mechanical gear, do you think he even needs it any more?”

  I think for a moment, replaying everything that I can remember in my head.

  “You know, he didn’t mention the Vestige when he spoke,” I say after giving it some thought. “He just said that he wanted to make me scream. Maybe he is just after vengeance. That’s odd, isn’t it?”

  Mae shrugs, turning onto my street. Her headlights are dimmed and it’s a relief to be in the comfort of our peaceful neighborhood again.

  “Maybe not,” she replies. “The Joker isn’t after anything in particular in the Batman universe. He just likes to cause mayhem. What if it’s the same thing for The Drone? What if he wasn’t sent to get the Vestige at all? What if The Drone was just sent to harass you - to intimidate you - like a henchman?”

  “What good does that do?” I ask.

  “More good than you think,” Mae explains. “It’s obvious that Bill Flagrant has power now without the Vestige. Whatever company he’s come into contact with, it’s giving him abilities that I doubt even the government has. That suit was impressive. So, if he’s not intent on getting the Vestige any more, maybe Flagrant is focused on breaking you down psychologically. He wants to make you feel vulnerable. Once he’s successful, who knows what his plan is.”

  The idea is one that I haven’t thought of before, and it sends shivers down my spine.

  Make me feel vulnerable…

  I cross my arms and sit up.

  “In that case, I need to focus on not feeling vulnerable,” I say. “Both of us need to. It’s still a strange idea, though. I really doubt that The Drone has given up on the Vestige.”

  “Maybe he’s just biding his time,” Mae suggests. “If he knows that you have an advantage with the Vestige, maybe he’s waiting to wear you down and get you when you least expect it. Whatever the case, we need to trust each other and be the team that we originally set out to be. It’s a whole lot better when it’s the two of us against one Drone - no matter what technology he has at his disposal now.”

  “True enough,” I reply.

  Mae takes a breath, then says, “I also think it’s time we hide our identities when we use our powers in public. Officially.”

  A subconscious grin breaks out on my face.

  “What, you mean, like, costumes?”

  For the first time since getting in the car, Mae looks over at me with a smile on her face.

  “You can’t be Fallout without a proper costume,” she says. “And I can’t be Mecha without one, either. I have to admit that I already started drafting up what I want my costume to be.”

  “So, you’ve got a head start?” I say. “It figures.”

  Mae jabs a finger into my chest.

  “You better get drawing if you want to catch up. Maybe you can channel some of the enthusiasm that Austin has.”

  My phone goes off as Mae pulls up in front of my house. I take it out and groan at the sight of a new message from Austin.

  “Speak of the devil…” I mutter.

  “That’s Austin, isn’t it?” asks Mae, a glint of knowing in her eye.

  “Yeah,” I reply, reading through the text. “He’s checking in about our meeting on Friday.”

  Mae raises her eyebrows. “He’s definitely on the ball, I’ll give him that.”

  I close the message and put my phone away.

  “I just hope that this job doesn’t end up becoming drudgery,” I say. “It’s already stressful enough with The Drone 2.0 running around.”

  This makes Mae chuckle.

  “What?” I say.

  She leans towards me a bit, a smile on her face.

  “All jobs have some form of drudgery. It’s the passion for your job that sets it apart from all the others.”

  I blink. “And you have passion for retail?” I ask with a teasing grin.

  Mae shrugs. “Maybe. There’s enough going on that the shifts are over before I know it. That’s not the case for you, of course, but I like it all the same.” She motions to my pocket where I stowed the phone. “Maybe working on your book will be a good distraction from The Drone.” She pauses, then, “The real Drone.”

  I think about it for a moment, then I sigh.

  “You know what? You’re right. I should just focus on my work.”

  “See?” says Mae. “It’s not so hard. Maybe this guy will actually end up being a nerd like you.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’s a nerd. Just, maybe not a nerd like me.” I chuckle. “Anyway, I should get inside. I need to start working on my outline if I want to be prepared for my development meeting.”

  “Sounds good,” says Mae as I open the car door and step out. Before I start to say goodbye, she stops me. “Shaun? Maybe we can practice using our powers one day after work again?”

  The idea is a no-brainer to me, but something tells me that it wasn’t a given for Mae. She looks at me expectantly.

  Of course, I nod, and reply, “That would be great. We still have a long way to go. It will feel better to practice with a partner than by myself.”

  Mae smiles, her gaze softening.

  “I think that’s the first time you voluntarily called me your partner,” she says.

  I give myself a little shake and jab a finger at her.

  “Don’t read too much into that!” I say.

  “I won’t.”

  She will. I let it go.

  “Alright,” I say. “See you later.”

  21

  The Production Meeting

  Friday finds me extremely on edge because of my development meeting with Austin.

  I barely sleep the night before, tossing and turning, even getting up to get a drink of water twice. Then I got up at five to go over all my notes a second and third time. I shouldn’t be worried because I made sure to format my scripts properly and my beat sheets are all
detailed with attached images from Google and elsewhere to illustrate what I’m going for.

  But, I feel like I’m going on a blind date. What if Austin thinks that all my ideas are stupid?

  “Stop it,” I tell myself as I walk down the sidewalk towards one of the many local coffee shops, nestled on the ground floor of a massive brick office building. “You’re the one in charge. Crichton might have teamed you up with Austin, but he gave you the contract. Stand your ground.”

  I decide to fake it until I make it. It’s worked in the past, but I have horrible imposter syndrome.

  It doesn’t really matter now because either way, I step into the coffee shop and my nose is bombarded with the smell of fresh coffee and sugary pastries. The place isn’t very large, but it’s definitely popular. People wait in line for the barista, and a handful of the booths by the windows are already taken. I find Austin already seated at one of these booths with a steaming espresso next to his portfolio. A bright green alien sticker stands out on his leather portfolio case. He spots me within seconds and waves me down.

  “I’m glad you found the place all right,” he says with a grin, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

  “Of course,” I say. “I’ve been here before with friends.”

  I start to take a seat when Austin gets up partially, motioning to his coffee.

  “I already grabbed something while I waited. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Something to eat? I’m paying.”

  “Wow,” I say. “It sounds like you’re trying to get on my good side.”

  Austin gives me a sheepish smirk.

  “Maybe just a little,” he replies. Then he raises his eyebrows. “Coffee, then?”

  “Sure. Cream and sugar.”

  “You got it.”

  He gets in line to order and I prepare my outline, laying out the array of papers, notes, and pictures on the table across from Austin’s leather portfolio. There’s a small pocket-sized sketchbook next to it where he was doing figure sketches of different people around the coffee shop.

  Austin returns minutes later with a steaming large cup of coffee.

  “Here you are,” he says. “Buttering-up at its finest.”

  “Thanks,” I say with a chuckle, lifting the lid on the coffee to blow on its contents. It’s warm and after a few sips I feel more at ease. “So, I’m not sure how these meetings usually go, but I brought my outline with me so far.”

  “Oh, it’s totally informal,” says Austin, waving a dismissive hand at me. “Most artists do all this remotely through video chat, but I figured since we are in the same city, thankfully, we could go back and forth in person. Of course, I came with some of my own ideas after going back through your father’s last volume, but everything will depend on your outline. I don’t want to bully you at all with what you’re envisioning. You’re the writer after all.”

  I sit back, surprised.

  “Well,” I mutter. “Thank-you for that. It’s my first official writing project - I mean, my first paid writing project. So, I’m sure I’ll need a little help in the detail department. But, I think you’ll like what I’ve brought.”

  I hand him the outline with a paragraph for each scene. He peruses the pages like a fan devouring a favorite author’s latest book. There is no expression on his face; just determination.

  I wait patiently until he’s finished.

  “Wow,” he says as he hands me back the papers. “This is pretty good for a first-time comic outline. I think you’ve nailed down the flow of the story. You’re thinking of opening with a battle?”

  “I’d like to,” I say. “One of the big complaints from Dad’s fans was that it felt like he was dragging things out. I want to give them a bit of what they want with a battle between Super Guy and The Drone, but it’s not the battle. You know what I mean?”

  “Absolutely,” Austin replies with a glimmer in his eye. “I love drawing battles.” He pauses, then says, “So, what is the main theme of this book going to be?” He folds his hands together and waits for my answer.

  “I want it to be about beginnings,” I say. “Not only the beginning of the end for the series, but also for the beginning of the Vestige. Where did it come from? How does it give these characters superpowers? That’s what I want to explore.”

  “And did your father leave you any clues as to what the origin of this medallion is?” asks Austin.

  “A few,” I say, not sure how much I should reveal. In the moment, I decide to just go for it. “I’ve got this image of a cave in my mind that I can’t shake.”

  “A cave?” says Austin, reaching for his sketchbook to begin doodling cave shapes. “Interesting. A cave where the Vestige originates?”

  I shrug.

  “It could be connected to the fan theory that the Native Americans were the first holders of the Vestige. I kind of like that idea the most. I’m not too keen on the alien idea, are you?”

  Austin’s smirk tells me everything.

  “You can’t be serious that you like the idea of a little green alien planting the Vestige on Earth as some sort of experiment?” I say with a disbelieving laugh.

  “Hey - don’t knock that idea!” Austin shoots back. “Maybe not a green alien. There’s a big fan base that believes in the extra-terrestrial theory, so don’t piss them off - myself included. We’ll just skirt around that idea if you don’t want to go down that route.”

  “I’d much rather keep the ideas rooted in the real world,” I explain. “Native American folklore is something that we can physically see in the world.”

  “What’s left of it,” says Austin and I see his expression fall a little. “Are you thinking of any real-life caves as inspiration?”

  “Maybe…” I say. “I still need to do a little more research to make the whole thing believable, but for now you can just make some general sketches that we’ll refine when we get closer to our presentation.”

  Austin sits back and lets out a sigh.

  “I’d love to go exploring some caves,” he says. “The city is nice - don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I just need to get out of here to let my creativity fly.”

  “Maybe we’ll go on a research trip soon,” I say, and he lights up.

  “Let me know if you do,” he says. “Because I want to go on it.”

  We spend the rest of our time chatting about random things - movies, mostly. There are a few debates about whether or not we liked the new Spider-Man (I did, he didn’t). For the most part, I really enjoy the meet-up and forget all about the scary business aspect. I almost begin to feel like a normal teenage boy, free to nerd out about pop culture without the fear of those stories coming true.

  That is, until we go to get up and head our separate ways.

  We make it to the door, me with my bag slung over my shoulder and Austin with his portfolio under his arm, when he turns to me and says, “So, how about that crazy attack that happened the other day?”

  “Attack?” I say, as if I don’t know what he’s talking about, though I know full well that he’s referencing The Drone rampaging through Chinatown.

  “Yeah. It must have happened right after we ran into each other.” His expression becomes skeptical. “Oh, come on. You must have heard about this? There was some sort of attack in Chinatown.”

  He pauses, waiting for me to take an interest, and I snap myself into it.

  “Really?” I say.

  “Yeah. Some guy wearing a suit of armor destroyed the fronts of a few buildings and then disappeared before the cops arrived. There are videos everywhere. You have to check it out.”

  I act like I’m looking the videos up on my phone when Austin adds one more thing.

  “It’s kind of funny. The man in the armor seemed like he was chasing down some guy, and he looked a little like you.”

  I pause, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end a bit. Then I laugh.

  “That’s impossible,” I say. “I was already on the subway with my friend Kim when that must have happened.”<
br />
  Austin locks his stare on me, studying my expression. Then he shrugs.

  “I just thought it was interesting,” he says, continuing to walk down the sidewalk with me. “Almost like a comic book coming to life. Anyway, this must be my Uber.” He motions to a car that’s pulled over to the sidewalk and goes to get in. “We’ll chat again really soon, okay? Let me know about the field trip.”

  I nod and watch as the car pulls away and drives off, disappearing into the traffic.

  Then I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

  “Wow…” I mutter, reaching up to feel the Vestige beneath my shirt collar. “That was a close one.”

  22

  The Cave

  When I arrive home I find that Mom has made a delicious dinner of chicken Alfredo and buttered bread, but I barely taste any of it. I actually don’t have much of an appetite after the parting words with Austin.

  I’m beginning to think that I need to be more careful around him.

  Mom notices my pensive mood and sets down her napkin beside her plate.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” she asks.

  I scrunch my lips up and reply, “Not really.”

  It’s a simple answer, but Mom can tell that those two words are loaded with unspoken issues. I should expect her to press me for information, which she does.

  “What’s the matter? You usually love Alfredo.”

  I shrug.

  “It’s just been a long day,” I say. “I had a development meeting for the comic, so there’s a lot to think about.”

  Mom nods, not buying that as the total reason. “I’ve barely seen you the past few days. Did something else happen?”

  I play with the hem of my shirt under the table to keep from looking Mom in the eye. However much she presses me, I can’t tell her about The Drone attack because she knows nothing about Bill Flagrant’s superpowers. All she knows is that he’s locked up in prison right now after attacking Grandpa and Grandma. I doubt even the media has connected the dots to reveal that the mechanized man from the other day is actually Bill Flagrant.

  Grandpa ordered me to keep Mom in the dark on the whole Aberrant thing for her own safety, and I’m not going to break now. Not with The Drone 2.0 running around.