Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  “Be more careful, for me. I’m loving the free time, but I don’t think you’d take leaving the HCP as well as I did.” Jill patted Will on the back then headed toward the door. “Let me know if you need any more help. Just because I’m not in the program doesn’t mean I don’t have my friends’ backs.”

  Will sat staring at the screen and mulling over her words after she left. There was something there, something he could use, and as he distilled it further down a curved grin appeared on his face, lit by the white glow of his monitor. Now that was an angle he could get some mileage out of. But, like every other idea he’d considered so far, it had the same failing: Will was going to need a face. Someone to represent the opposition to the Take Back Lander campaign. Someone dangerous, and skillful, and trustworthy. Someone who excelled at the other side of Subtlety, someone who could do with people what Will could do to electronics.

  Although Alice did technically have the skillset required, Will couldn’t bring himself to drag her into this. She would help if he told her the situation, but she shouldn’t. Those five already seemed to have enough on their plate with all the sneaking around, and besides, he’d already decided that no more active students should get involved. Gambling his own secret was one thing, and Camille had come into this on her own. Bringing in someone else was a different matter. But there was still a candidate out there. One who checked off every box, with the exception of the criteria that was probably most important: trustworthiness. Given his few options, Will was going to have to take what he had and make peace with a higher level of risk. Besides, for all the faults this man had, he was generally loyal to his friends. Since they were the ones in danger, that meant Will could probably trust this fellow to stay in line somewhat.

  It seemed that Will was going to have to reach out to another former HCP student. He just hoped Nick Campbell was up for playing a bad guy.

  176.

  Professor Cole examined the form carefully, her eyes moving slowly over each section. There weren’t many, admittedly, but what was there had to be done precisely right. Such was one of the many joys of working with government agencies. But things like this were important; a mistake here or there could lead to major issues down the road when dealing with licensing and concept ownership. Better to take the time and scrutinize these forms rather than let the kids start off on a bad foot.

  Finally, she lowered the page back onto her desk, looking across it to Roy Daniels, who was more nervous than he’d ever been during one of his fights.

  “It looks good. Once I turn it in, you’re set.”

  Roy’s muscular body seemed to ooze with relief at the news; he sat back in his chair and adjusted his hat. “Thank goodness. Hershel was up late going over that to make sure we did everything right.”

  “Well, he nailed it. This might be one of the few times I haven’t found anything in need of correction,” Professor Cole said. “You already checked to make sure the name hasn’t existed previously?”

  “Yes, ma’am. No known record of a Hero called Ettin in any of the databases where you told us to look. So far as we know, it should be free and clear.” Roy was still relaxed, though he did grow a touch more tense at the question. Clearly, he still thought some surprise hurdle might pop up to knock them off course.

  “I’ll do some digging as well, just to be certain, but I think you’re going to be fine with this.” Professor Cole glanced down at the document, specifically at the name written in the largest blank. Generally, she tried not to question the choices of her students when picking names and personas. A Hero’s call sign was something personal and special, often coming from places they didn’t always want to delve into. In this case, however, curiosity got the better of her. “What does it mean, anyway? What’s an Ettin?”

  No sooner had the words left her mouth than Roy turned sheepish. She was about to retract the question, but he began to speak before she could. “It’s a mythical monster. Hershel learned about it from those dice games he plays. Don’t worry, we checked and the creature predates those games so they should be public domain. Anyway, Ettins are two-headed giants. Really strong, really tough, and sometimes they’d use small trees like clubs. When thinking over Hero names, that was the one that seemed to fit us the best.”

  A two-headed brute. Well, it was a little on the nose, but only because she knew about Hershel. To the criminals he’d face, assuming they had enough knowledge of monster lore to even place the name, it would seem like something Roy had picked up just because he was tough and used a bat. They would never guess the true implications of an Ettin’s two-headed nature, and they’d underestimate Roy because of that. Personally, Professor Cole was rather fond of such tactics when choosing names. After all, not many crooks had been fearful of a Hero called Seamstress, right up until she appeared and showed them the true meaning of her moniker. And it fit the brothers well, drawing on aspects of both their identities to create a Hero persona that represented each of them.

  “I like it,” she told Roy. “It’s a strong name. I think one day it’s going to be whispered like a curse among criminals, and yelled like a prayer among the innocent. Assuming you keep your efforts up and make it to graduation, I mean. Don’t go slacking off near the end.”

  “Slack off?” Roy asked. “I just failed to make the cut for Intramurals. Ain’t no part of me thinking about slacking off right now. If anything, Hershel and I are doubling down on our training. We’ve got one semester left to close the gap and reach the top of this class. No way we’re giving up on that until the last punch is thrown.”

  “Yes, well, I can’t say your classmates didn’t choose some strong competitors, but don’t get too down about who was selected.” Professor Cole considered her next words carefully. She wanted to encourage Roy, but it needed to be done without disparaging other students. “Remember, you and Chad, from the perspective of your class, both fill the strongman role. Given his record, if they were going to choose one from that category to send, it makes sense that they’d go with him.”

  Roy tilted his hat back slightly, making sure he could look Professor Cole directly in the eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m not down about missing the cut. It sucks, yeah, but I ain’t got room to argue. Vince beat me, flat-out, and Chad’s done the same many a time before. Right now, they’re stronger than I am. That’s why I’m working toward the future instead of being caught up in where I am today.”

  Although Roy couldn’t see it under her ever-present bandages, Professor Cole smiled. Ego had always been Roy’s biggest weakness, a failure that it seemed he was starting to overcome. Rather than be slighted by a loss, making excuses or justifications, he was using it as motivation to improve. She liked that—hell, she respected that. It was the attitude of a Hero, and if he kept it up, she was positive he’d be walking across the graduation stage.

  “Speaking of the future, do you have any thoughts on potential mentors? I ask because after the show you put on during the midyear trial, I’d be shocked if a few offers didn’t make their way to you. It might be prudent to have some top picks in mind.”

  “No, ma’am,” Roy said. “Lots of the people I spoke with either were or worked with strongman-type Heroes, but to be honest, none of them really stood out to me. I know some have better reputations than others, and some of them would make starting a career easier. I don’t particularly care about that, though. All I want is someone who can make me stronger, who can teach me to be the best possible Hero I can be. Figuring out who can do that from handshakes and small talk is tough. If you’ve got any pointers, I’m open to hearing them.”

  “Pragmatically, I guess your best bet is to see who makes you an offer and then do your research. You can read up on their careers online, and if any of the staff has worked with them, we’ll shoot straight with you about what they’re like. If we haven’t, we’ll find someone who has. Your mentor is a big deal; you deserve to know what you’re stepping into.” She stopped, wondering if to go on would be overstepping her bounds as
an educator. It probably was, but she pressed on anyway. Sonya Cole had never been one for the laws of decorum. “All of that said, I think most of the time when you meet your mentor, you know it. Something clicks, and you can just see yourself learning from them. If you haven’t had that yet, then keep shaking hands at the mixers. You might get more than you think out of it.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. Do I need to do anything else with the form?” Roy rose from his chair, looking down at her desk and the slip of paper on it.

  She followed his gaze, aware of how much he’d put into that single page. So many hours looking for a name, trying on ones that never felt quite right, until finally he’d found the one that fit. It was part of the Hero journey, and she could remember being in his shoes, nervously turning over a form to a professor of her own. “No, I’ve got it from here. Looks like you’re good to go, Roy. Or should I say, Ettin?”

  177.

  For the first time since he’d ever set foot on Lander’s campus, Nick felt wholly present. No part of him was back in Vegas, wondering about turf wars and power plays, trying to calculate what would be waiting for him on the next trip home. There was no going back anymore, not really. He might make a quick trip or two when the year came to an end, but there wouldn’t be much time to waste on the past. His new career goals were ambitious to say the least, and the more time he spent working on them, the better. Besides, the idea of going back to Vegas for any prolonged amount of time felt dangerous. Ms. Pips might have bought into the proposal, at least on a trial basis, but there were bound to be other forces trying to pull him back into that world, especially now that Gerry was gone.

  Taking a step back, Nick examined the framed photos he’d just finished hanging up on his bedroom wall. There were two of them: one an iconic picture of the Vegas Strip, lit up in all its brilliance, and one a photo of Gerry and a young Nick standing outside a casino. Nick was at peace with moving on from his past, but he felt no inclination to abandon it entirely. Vegas, the Family, Ms. Pips, and Gerry: all of it had shaped him into the man he was today. Carefully, Nick nudged the picture of Vegas slightly to the left, making it level. It felt fitting to keep some piece of that with him, just as he would no doubt hang a photo of Lander in whatever domicile he occupied when the semester came to a close.

  There was no shortage of other tasks on his plate: learning about Charles Adair’s crimes and Globe’s innocence had only given him more to do, and there was still the matter of flushing out the mole. Still, these moments were important. He’d seen what happened to people who couldn’t step away from their work, and Nick had no intention of going down that path. Regardless of what job he had, he would define it, not the other way around.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Nick snatched it up by the third ring. “Yes, Eliza?”

  “We’ve got a guy heading in your direction, climbing the stairs. Student, one of your old running buddies. I think I met him at Halloween, he went by Will?” She didn’t seem especially panicked, which was fair, since they’d yet to see any aggression from the HCP students. But Eliza didn’t know Will the way Nick did. If he was making an approach like this, it meant he either needed something or was coming to settle a score. Nick was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to slight either of the Murray twins, but he tucked a knife into his pocket just to be on the safe side. Underestimating Will was an easy mistake to make, and one that rarely worked out well.

  “Let him through. Will’s a useful friend to have; I’m glad to make some time for him.”

  Nick checked the photos one last time, then made his way to the front door. Just before Will could knock, he pulled it open. Will’s face was unsurprised; he’d clearly expected Nick to be aware of and waiting for him. “You should really upgrade to phones with better security. At this range, it was almost too easy to listen in. Tell Eliza I said hi, by the way.”

  “I’ll pass it along,” Nick replied, motioning for Will to step inside. It might have been a parlor trick—Will was smart and there was a fifty-fifty shot to guess which lapdog was on security duty at any given time—but Nick made a note to see if there were ways to upgrade their communication security, anyway. Hell, if this meeting went well he might just ask Will to do it. “So, what brings you by? If you’re here for game night, we only do those on Wednesdays.”

  Will looked around the apartment, ostensibly checking out the décor while in reality probably searching for traps or monitoring devices. “I might take you up on that sometime. The chance to test my strategic skills against you and Hershel sounds like quite the opportunity.”

  “We cycle between games based on skill versus ones based more on luck, since we want the others to have fun, too,” Nick said. “But if you set a weekend aside I bet you, me, and Hershel could kill a few days playing one of those world-conquering games and really pissing each other off.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Will produced a circular device roughly the size of a stack of coasters, one with bits of wire and circuits sticking out. “Forgive the lack of aesthetics; I had to make this one on the fly.” Will flipped a switch, and several lights started glowing red. “This should knock out any remote listening or recording devices in the area. Mine and yours. This meeting is happening off the record, and I think we’ll both prefer it stay that way by the end.”

  Nick’s curiosity was piqued; Will hadn’t ever been this bold in the past. He’d always been best working behind the scenes, staying out of sight and never displaying his true aptitude. To come in with such an aggressive approach meant that either Will had significantly stepped up his game, or the situation he was in was quite dire.

  “I’m not sure what you think I have to say that I don’t want recorded. After all, I’m just a normal student these days. No cool HCP business or superhero intrigue to discuss.”

  A small frown pushed down in Will’s mouth, and he shook his head. “I thought we could skip this part, since it was all rather implied, but I guess some things still need to be said out loud. I know you remember the HCP, Nick. I don’t know how you undid the wipe, or how much you got back, but you are too smart and resourceful to let someone permanently tinker with your brain. It was a given; I knew that from the day you were expelled, and your actions since then have only proved to me how right I am.”

  “If that were true, I’m sure you could understand why I’d be unable to openly admit to it,” Nick said.

  “Hence why I brought a device to prevent outsiders from electronically observing or recording this conversation. But if you don’t want to say it, that’s fine. I don’t need to hear the words to know I’m correct, and your memory isn’t why I came over in the first place.” Will lowered himself onto the couch, staring at Nick and waiting until he took a seat as well. “I’m here because I need your help. Not just me, the whole class, maybe even the whole HCP. What do you know about the Take Back Lander initiative?”

  “Small group of students who wanted to kick the HCP off of campuses where normal students lived and went to school. They had a few good weeks early in the year and then started dying off. I haven’t kept tabs on them beyond that; they were kind of small potatoes and I’ve had a lot going on.” Nick had actually dug a bit deeper than he was letting on, but nothing he saw gave him reason to think the group would find the funds or audience they needed to keep going at Lander. Things could change, though, and given that Will had seen a problem important enough to approach him over, they clearly had done just that.

  Reaching into his pocket, Will produced a stack of pages and held them out to Nick. “Their leader, Kennedy Dawson, is reorganizing the group to try and hunt down HCP students and out them. She’s focused, determined, and good at marshaling her forces. Without her, the whole thing would have crumbled. Instead, it’s just changed tactics.”

  “And I take it you have a counterplan?” Nick took the pages, cracking them open and flipping through.

  “I do. Or the start of one, anyway. There are a lot of components I’ll need to ma
ke it work, but you’re an irreplaceable one. This can’t happen in a vacuum. They need to meet someone, be confronted by a living embodiment of their opposition. Given the range of the role, I think you might be the only one who can play it.”

  Slowly, Nick turned the pages, reading Will’s research, existing steps, and plan for moving forward. As he got to the section featuring a face, his ever-present smirk took on a more malicious gleam. “I’m in. We’ve got a lot to talk over, and I’m going to have input on this moving forward, but if I get to be this guy, then you can count me in all the way.”

  Will’s whole body flooded with a brimming sense of relief, as well as a small trickle of pity for Kennedy Dawson and her cronies. They really had no idea what sort of monster Will had just called down upon them.

  178.

  Despite Dean Blaine’s warning, there was still a wave of surprise as the denizens of Melbrook came home from class to find four piles of crisp letters stacked neatly on the coffee table. There were varying amounts in each stack, although none had fewer than four in any pile. Mr. Numbers and Mr. Transport were standing nearby, ready to explain. It was clear that they had been the ones to arrange the mail so carefully, and even more apparent that documents like this had certainly not been sent by means of regular postal services. The fact that they were addressed to initials rather than full names was proof enough of that. Although they all knew what was waiting for them on sight, it was Hershel who said the words out loud, whispering them like a holy prayer as he stepped closer to the four stacks on the table.

  “Those are our internship offers, aren’t they?”

  “Got it in one shot,” Mr. Transport replied. “That’s correct. These are offer letters—contingent on graduation, of course—from the Heroes who’ve been impressed with what you’ve shown thus far. If there’s someone you were hoping to get an offer from that isn’t here, remember that there’s still half a year left. I’m told some Heroes don’t make their selections until closer to graduation.”