by Hayes, Drew
Rats, probably—a nuisance, but easily dealt with. His right hand, the only one he had left, gripped the lid of the dumpster and hoisted it upward. What greeted him was not, in fact, the scurrying of rodents, but rather a flash of silver and a small fist swinging at him.
The attack was easily dodged, as the arm throwing it was so thin it was amazing that the limb could swing at all. He peered down into the dumpster, realizing that he’d stumbled upon a young boy, one so emaciated that he seemed more like flesh wrapped around a skeleton than a real person. In his hands were the half-rotted remains of a sandwich, and as the man who’d once been Globe watched, the boy gobbled it down hurriedly, completely ignoring the mold and stink coming off of it.
“S-s-stay away.” He scampered to the far end of the dumpster, words coming out through chattering teeth. As much as the older man had considered his own coat derelict, it had nothing on the boy’s attire. He wore shorts and a t-shirt that were both barely maintaining their shape, just a few rips away from being rags. Between the thin coverings and the lack of fat on his body, it wasn’t surprising that he’d taken shelter in a dumpster. Truthfully, it was amazing he was alive at all.
There was no question on what he should do. Close the lid, maybe bring by some food to ease his guilt, then hurry on his way. If he was lucky, the child wouldn’t remember him, and he’d pass through without leaving any trail. That was the smart play. But, as he knew too well already, he’d never been a particularly smart man.
“Come on,” he said, reaching out his hand slowly. “Let’s get you to the nearest shelter. You need to be somewhere safe before the snowfall starts.”
The boy swiped at his hand, more like a cat striking with claws than a human. “C-can’t. Will c-c-call f-f-foster.”
Despite his better judgment, Globe widened the area of warmth, easing the boy’s shivering by a few degrees. He hoped the kid wouldn’t notice, but there was only so much time he could spend watching someone shake violently. “Foster homes are nice. They’re warm, and there’s food.”
Even while his body calmed, the boy’s head shook violently. “Not for me. I’m Powered.”
And with that, it all fell into place. Really, he should have seen it sooner. The silver hair, the fear of human contact, the fact that he’d chosen to be out here instead of inside a warm shelter. Of course he was a Powered. Life was hard enough for the ones that had homes and loved ones. If this one was on his own…
“Do you have parents?” As he asked the question, he knew the answer, but part of him hoped that he’d somehow be wrong.
That hope was dashed as the boy shook his head again and whispered a single word: “Never.”
“And what about the foster people you were with? Did they throw you out?”
“Ran. Mean. Not first. But… I burned things. Called me monster. Always hurt people. Always a monster.” As the boy shrank in on himself, arms wrapped around his boney legs, an arc of electricity shot off him, hitting the edge of the metal dumpster. It never made it to the man, who killed the power surge with a single thought, but the boy’s eyes still grew wide with terror as he waited, presumably for a shriek of pain followed by more anger.
“It’s okay. I’m fine. I promise.” He should leave. He should get the kid some clothes and food, and then haul ass out of town as quickly as he could. Sooner or later, someone else would find the child—someone who wouldn’t care about the fact that he was a Powered, and a dangerous one at that. They would take him in. They would make sure he was safe and warm. All he had to do was trust that someone else would handle this problem.
But, if Globe were the kind of person who could do that, he would never have become a Hero in the first place.
“Do you have a name?”
“Vince. I think. Last people yelled it.”
“Vince. That’s a nice name. Do you have a last one?”
Vince’s head leaned back as he tried to remember, but he eventually gave up. “No.”
“That’s okay. I don’t have one either. Got rid of it.” Though his hand was on the edge of shaking for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold, he reached toward the boy once more. “Vince, why don’t you come with me? We can get you some food and clothing. It will just be for a little while, until we find you a good home.”
“I’ll hurt you.” Vince backpedaled, pushing himself against the chilly metal at the dumpster’s rear.
“It’s okay if you hurt me. People get hurt. I’m tough. I promise. I won’t get mad.”
Vince’s blue eyes stared at him for a long time, scrutinizing everything about the man offering to help him. For a while, it seemed that he wasn’t going to budge, but slowly, like the advance of a glacier, he leaned forward. “You promise?”
If there had been any resolve left in the man, it burned away at the sound of those two innocent, trusting words. The world would show this boy no mercy if he were left alone in it. The fact that Vince had survived so long bordered on a miracle. Though he would continue to lie to himself in the weeks to come before finally accepting the truth, in that moment, Globe knew that this arrangement would be anything but temporary.
“I promise.”
Vince reached out and gently took the hand of the man he would know for the rest of his life as his father.
26.
At the start of Monday’s class, Dean Blaine surveyed the students’ ready expressions. Each looked as though they were ready to go to war at a moment’s notice. There were no skirting glances or fearful shuffling to be found, not amongst these seniors. While some would certainly have answers that were better than others, everyone had come with an opinion that was thought through. That was why he loved teaching the seniors; they came prepared, and often brought forth insights he’d have never found on his own. In a way, this was a class where he learned as much as he taught.
“Why are there Heroes?” He didn’t bother with much recapping on what their assignment had been; everyone present knew exactly what today’s topic was going to be. “Not just their existence, but why Heroes as we know them? What is the purpose of this particular system? Ms. Dixon, would you be so kind as to start us off?”
“It’s because they make people feel safe,” Amber said, no hesitation in her words as she offered up the first opinion. “Supers are really scary to most humans, and with good reason. If Heroes were faceless enforcers in uniforms, it would make everyone think the government was stockpiling us like assets to use whenever they needed. This way, we seem like independent entities, plus with PR and charity work we can even be likable. People are okay with putting their trust in us in a way they would never be if we were like cops.”
“A very good point,” Dean Blaine acknowledged. “And in fact, we can see that in several other nations who attempted a military model. The distrust can lead to unrest, and sometimes even revolution. Ms. Murray, do you have any other theories on why our system functions this way?”
Jill glanced across the room on reflex but stopped herself before her eyes fell on her twin brother. “They inspire people. Amber wasn’t wrong about Heroes making people feel safe, but I think it’s more than that. Heroes can make people want to be better, whether it’s by becoming one or just showing them that the powerful don’t always turn corrupt.”
Dean Blaine nodded, eyes perusing the room as he tried to figure out who the next selection would be. The last one was already chosen, though he was curious to see how close the others would get before he called on the only person there with secondhand knowledge of the truth.
“Quite right. Heroes work hard to create positive impacts on their communities and those who look up to them. Mr. Daniels, would you care to add to the previous points?”
Unlike Amber and Jill, Hershel did hesitate after he was called on. While it had made sense for him to handle the academic side of the HCP, especially since he and Roy now both considered themselves to be part of the Super equation, he also felt a touch out of place in the classroom. Still, he’d faced far more terrif
ying situations than this, so he steeled his nerve and met the dean’s eyes as he answered.
“Heroes exist because they set the standard,” Hershel said. “They’re everywhere in our culture: on television, posters, clothing, all over the place. They’re celebrated pretty much wherever they go, and, except in cases where they really screw up, are usually loved more than they’re hated. So for a Super who has a lot of power, that’s the obvious goal. Instead of thinking they can get ahead by working around the system, they see being a Hero as the logical thing to shoot for. The prestige we place on the role funnels many of the strongest Supers toward this job in a way that wouldn’t work without the fanfare and celebrity.”
“That is very accurate.” Dean Blaine had been planning to tease this session out a bit longer, but Hershel had hit the nail so close to the head that it made little sense to string the students along. Better to lead them to the truth than to take them down false paths. It was a shame, though; he usually liked to get more out of this topic. “In fact, it comes very close to touching on the actual pitch used when the Hero program was first proposed. Normally, I am the one who recaps that part of our history; however, I think it only fitting that we allow Mr. DeSoto to handle it from here.”
If Shane was surprised at being picked to finish things off, it wasn’t evident. He simply set his hands carefully on his desk and gazed out at the rest of the class, slowly turning his head to look at all of them.
“You three came really close; in fact, you hit aspects of why the Hero program works and the government agreed to implement it. But you missed the bigger picture as a whole. Remember, when Heroes were created, the world didn’t know that Supers existed. The program was created with that in mind. Humans, the dominant species for millennia, were going to lose their place at the top of the food chain, and at the same time, every Super who was hiding their powers was going to learn they weren’t the only one of their kind. This situation was going to be very dangerous unless handled perfectly. Humans would be mad and scared, while Supers would feel emboldened to use their abilities. Anyone who knows even the basics of history can guess how that would play out nine times out of ten, and all nine involve a lot of blood. Which meant Captain Starlight and the rest of the government were tasked with finding a way to make this revelation be that tenth instance.”
Shane’s turning head paused, and he gave a small nod toward Hershel. “You were right about Heroes setting the standard, and Amber and Jill were dead-on about them making people feel inspired and at ease. All of that was carefully thought out. Heroes were elevated to star status intentionally, so as to draw in the best Supers. After all, why turn to crime when fame and riches are in reach through legal means? At the same time, Heroes were presented as the best of the best, a shield between humanity and the few Supers who might use their power for evil or destruction. They had to endear at least some Supers to humanity while discouraging the more powerful ones from running wild.”
“It has been said by those smarter and more informed than I that the creation of Heroes was really the creation of our current culture,” Dean Blaine added, taking over for his student. “The creation of our program defined not only how Supers were viewed, but how we saw our own role in society. By making the best of our kind humanity’s allies, it became the default for how Supers viewed themselves. That’s why, in spite of the heavy restrictions placed upon them, many Supers who don’t become Heroes still join services to help others, becoming firemen, EMTs, and even police officers. We have been raised in a culture that emphasizes the importance of Supers aiding humanity, of seeing our powers as a responsibility to help the weaker. Thanks to that, at least partially, we’ve managed to find peace with humans, in spite of our differences.”
Dean Blaine paused, taking a step toward the center of the room so that all eyes were once again upon him. “And that is why the role of Hero is such a closely guarded and monitored one. We must continue to set the example, to inspire and influence those watching us. That, perhaps even more than stopping criminal Supers, is the Hero’s most sacred duty. A life lost is a tragedy. But if we lose this tenuous arrangement, the trust of the humans who depend on us and the adoration of the Supers who look to us… there is honestly no measuring how far this world could fall.”
27.
It was always strange to Nick that in every movie about criminals or the mafia, whoever was in charge tended to gloss over one of the most important aspects for anyone working outside the law: research. Whether it was digging up information about cops, scouring financial records to make sure no one in the chain was skimming off the top, or just figuring out who around town might be susceptible to a well-placed bribe, Nick would wager that before they hit thirty the average wise-guy had combed through as many documents as a PhD candidate. Sure, these jobs could be outsourced occasionally, but for the truly self-reliant, it was a skill they had to master, and the sooner, the better.
As many papers and stolen records as Nick had scoured in his years in Vegas, none of them held a candle to the task before him. He’d dedicated part of his back room just to housing the documents, going through them as fast as Eliza and Jerome could bring them in. While he was still technically enrolled at Lander—given that he had three years under his belt, there was no reason not to complete his degree—this by far accounted for most of his daily homework. He’d been at it for months, getting things set up before heading to summer training and doing the work digitally when he could sneak off. That always felt slower, though, so now that he could put the pages between his fingers, Nick felt like he was making progress.
Well… he was moving faster, anyway. “Progress” implied actually getting nearer to a goal, and in that regard, he was still coming up empty-handed. That was the nature of this beast, though. There wouldn’t be any lead-up or small clues to follow. He’d just have to dig until he found what he was looking for, or had concluded it to be a dead end. For everyone’s sake, but especially Alice’s, Nick was working tirelessly to make sure it wasn’t the latter.
“Yo! We got a fresh delivery here.” Eliza’s voice rang through the apartment, followed by heavy thumps of movement as she and Jerome hauled in three boxes each.
He motioned to the momentarily clear corner of his bedroom. “Where are these from?”
“Oregon,” Jerome replied. “Every city and county hospital, plus the hospices, just to be safe.” He set down his load easily, then relieved Eliza of hers and stacked them on top.
“Oregon, huh? Well, I suppose anything is possible. You can clear out Louisiana, by the way. I finished it this morning.” Nick pointed to more boxes near his bed—these not stacked quite so neatly.
“Damn, I had my fingers crossed for daiquiris and crawfish,” Eliza said. “Guessing you didn’t find it yet?”
“If I had, would I still have you both getting me more documents?” Nick asked.
“Absolutely. That is a thousand percent the kind of dick move you’d pull on us, just because you thought it was funny.” Eliza tilted her head forward, daring Nick to try and counter the accusation.
After a moment, a small smile appeared on his face. “Okay, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Nick admitted. “But no, I’m still coming up dry. It’s probably going to be that way for quite a while, too.”
“Unless you get lucky.” Jerome’s words, while seemingly innocent, hung heavy in the air. It was the thing he and Eliza had both been wondering since Nick gave them their assignment, the burning question that was going to be asked inevitably. The only surprising part was that Jerome had been the one to broach it rather than the flippant Eliza.
“That is a possibility,” Nick said, lowering the document currently clutched in his nimble fingers. “But one I’d prefer to save for only if it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Why? I mean, sure, old Nicholas I would have understood, but we’re up to speed now. We know you can control your power,” Eliza pointed out. “What’s to stop you from using it, finding our target, and wrapping
this whole thing up neatly?”
“As I said, if it comes to that, I’ll try, but this is a very complicated situation.” Nick spread his arms out, showing the small fraction of files facing them that occupied half his bedroom. “This isn’t dice on a table, and I can’t choose the outcome I want. Good luck might turn out to be never finding what I’m looking for, because it would cause more trouble down the road. And that’s just one of the more predictable potential outcomes. Yes, if we have no other options, then I’ll turn to Lady Luck, but she is a finicky and unpredictable bitch. So until it’s absolutely necessary, I’d rather handle this the old-fashioned way.”
“Where to next?” Jerome ignored the awkward silence that tried to settle in as Nick finished speaking, defaulting to being a good soldier and getting his orders. Aside from keeping things moving, he’d found that in a place where authority was as important as it was with the Family, reminding everyone that there was protocol in place could diffuse a lot of situations. Jerome didn’t avoid speaking frequently because he had little to say, but rather because he had learned the value in constantly listening.
“I’ve been avoiding it for a while, since the state is so damn big, but with everyone gearing up for an exam, this is the perfect time to take on Texas,” Nick said after only a second of hesitation. “I’ll have most of the week free while they train and worry, so hopefully I can get through all of it.”
“Texas?” Eliza said. “Come on, can we please get a bigger car for this one? It’s going to take forever to go all over that place, and you know Jerome’s legs don’t fit well in the economic models.”
“Fine, you can rent something mid-size,” Nick conceded. Having made the drive from Lander to Vegas in a Bug more than once, he had some sympathy in his heart for small cars and smashed legs. “But no sight-seeing. If we’re paying more for gas, you need to stay on task.”
“Somehow I think we’ll manage to resist the temptation of seeing the world’s largest tamale, or whatever they’ve got,” Eliza assured him.