Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  It wasn’t much, and if not for Hershel’s presence reassuring him, Roy might have thought he imagined it. But it had been there, and that was enough to convince Roy to keep pushing forward. “I haven’t decided if I’m accepting yet, actually. I’d like to meet the guy first, for one thing. And beyond that… well, he seems like he’d be a good fit for a teacher, no question there. But I have to ask myself if he’d be the best fit for me. The one who can truly help me reach levels I’d never make it to on my own. What do you think, Titan? He’s a strongman like you, so you’ve got to have some insight. Is Granite the best possible teacher for me?”

  “Given his own experience and the team behind him, I don’t think you’re going to get an offer from anyone who can match what he’s bringing to the table,” Titan said.

  “That ain’t the question I asked.” Roy heard the edge in his voice and hated himself for it. He didn’t mean to default to antagonistic like that, it was just… why did everything with Titan always have to be so hard? He was trying here, he really was, but the more he pushed his father on the issue, the more Titan seemed to retreat from it. Maybe he should have let Hershel handle this. “Sorry, I… I don’t know. I don’t know what I wanted from this. An explanation, I guess?”

  He started to turn, but Titan reached out and put a hand on his forearm. “Roy, do you really want me to train you? I don’t have to tell you all the ways that’s a bad idea.”

  “Trust me, I know.” Despite the instinct to knock Titan’s hand away, Roy let it remain. He had to try to make something happen, even if parts of him were screaming that this man couldn’t be trusted. Because there were other bits of him now, ones that remembered the night an amped-up Super had Roy dead-to-rights until Titan appeared to save him, pieces that had noticed Titan showing up for every single trial. He was trying, even though he was scared. Roy could at least match that effort.

  “I know it’s a bad idea, and I’m not saying I want it to happen. I guess I was just hurt that you didn’t even offer. I thought things with us were getting a little better. When I didn’t see any offer from you, I started wondering if maybe you were done reaching out. Damn, that sounds silly when I say it out loud.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Titan told him. “I bailed on you, on the whole family, so being afraid that I might suddenly quit again is a perfectly rational fear. But I’m not going to, I promise. I know those words don’t mean much from me right now, and they shouldn’t. All I can do is keep showing up and proving that I mean it. If that means you want to train under me, I’ll have the offer out before the day’s end. If it just means you want to get a beer and talk, I’ll make the time for that too. I know I can’t fix what’s broken between us, but I’ll do everything I can to build something new.”

  It was the most open conversation Roy could remember having with his father since childhood, and he suddenly found himself wishing they weren’t having it in a room stuffed full of other people. “Let’s start with the beer. Right now, since you’re already off. I know a few nearby bars that are never full.”

  “You don’t want to stay here?” Titan asked.

  Roy scanned the room, taking in the same function they’d hosted since the school year started, only with a few new masks around. “What for? I’ve already got some solid offers, there’s no need for me to mingle. I think this is a far better use of my time.”

  186.

  Neither man said anything for some while. Instead, Dean Blaine rose from his seat, went to the bar in the back of his office, and poured two generous glasses of scotch. He set one down in front of Graham before helping himself to a careful sip of the other. Only when he was settled back in his chair did he finally respond.

  “It’s a generous offer, Graham, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a childhood dream of mine to work with Captain Starlight. Not quite the way I pictured it, but I imagine nine-year-old me wouldn’t be a stickler about specifics. But I can’t just leave the kids midway through the year. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “This is the government we’re talking about, how fast do you think things move?” Graham helped himself to a larger gulp of the drink than Dean Blaine had taken. As a man further on in his life, he never knew which of these pleasures might be the last; it was important to savor them when they came. Sometimes he and his granddaughter were more alike than they knew. “We’d be looking at you to start after the school year is over, sometime in the summer. That would give us enough time to line up a replacement teacher, since I assume you’d want to promote from within your own ranks. Any thoughts on who would replace you?”

  Dean Blaine knew this trick well; Graham was trying to coax him into talking about the specifics of how the change would happen, framing it as a hypothetical. The deeper they got, the more forgone the conclusion would be that of course he would take the job. After all, they were having a meeting about how to facilitate it, weren’t they? He opted to play along for the moment, because if he did decide to go down that path these were things they’d have to tackle. This way he could see how viable the idea really was.

  “My first choice would be Professor Esme Stone, the Focus instructor. Unfortunately, she’s made it abundantly clear that she has no interest whatsoever in taking over my job. Esme loves to teach, but she’s got no stomach for bureaucracy. If I didn’t have to get it past the board and the DVA, I think Sean Pendleton would actually make a fine replacement for me as well. I presume an ex-con would be a hard sell, though.”

  “Good presumption,” Graham agreed.

  “Then I’d have to go with Professor Ariel Baker, our Ranged Combat teacher. While Blake Hill and Sonya Cole both have seniority, neither possesses the right temperament for this job. Ariel has the necessary mixture of patience, kindness, and determination that I think would serve her well if she stepped into my shoes.”

  Graham took another sip from the glass, turning the idea over in his head. “She’s young.”

  “Not by Hero standards. Besides, young isn’t a bad thing. Young means they can put in more years before you have to play this game again,” Dean Blaine pointed out.

  “Your recommendation carries a lot of weight, so if you really push for her, I doubt it will be an issue. Ranged Combat should be an easy position to fill too, unlike some subjects, so that’s in her favor. Finding Subtlety Heroes willing to teach is a real pain in the ass, let me tell you. Anyway, Ariel Baker moves up to be Dean Baker, and some other Hero ready to hang up the cape steps in for her. If we did it at the end of the year, can you think of any reason why that transition wouldn’t work?”

  Although Dean Blaine’s mind immediately objected to the idea, the more he thought it over, the harder it was to find a true obstacle. Yes, there was the mystery of Globe, but that seemed tied to the students who were graduating more than the school. The former Powereds were either out of the program or in their final year and showing strong chances of graduation, so he wouldn’t be dumping that on Ariel’s plate. And Crispin… Blaine could only imagine the sort of manhunt he’d be able to mount with the DVA’s full resources at his disposal.

  Even with all of that, he might have pushed away at the idea of a career change harder if not for the issue of Shelby Adair’s visions. Alice and Mary had told him what they were shown, a world where war erupted and society was torn apart by it. Maybe it was a trick by a bored dream-walker, but with every bit of Abridail’s information that proved accurate, it became more and more clear that these visions were real. Graham was talking about the potential war, even if he didn’t know about it, and he was offering Blaine a chance to work at a higher level to keep it from happening. If he could help steer the world toward the better future, wasn’t it his duty to do so? Of course, that assumed he’d be able to guide things from his new position, which required his boss being on board with the idea. Could he trust Graham DeSoto, a man who he only knew in passing, with the secrets that they’d been uncovering?

  No. It was too dangerous; too many lives were on the line. Dean Blaine
couldn’t put that much faith in someone he barely knew. But he was fast approaching the boundaries of what his people could accomplish on their own; it was becoming ever clearer that they needed help. The head of the DVA could certainly open up some new options. And while Dean Blaine knew he shouldn’t set something this heavy in the hands of a near stranger, he had to trust someone.

  If there was ever a Hero to put blind faith in, it was Captain Starlight.

  “Graham, I’m interested in the job. I am. But there are some things you need to know first. Things that I’ve done, rules I’ve broken, secrets that I’ve uncovered. Hard truths that are going to force you to make some difficult choices. If you still want me after all of that, we can talk. Either way, as the new head of the DVA and the man who showed us all what it means to be a Hero, you have to be brought up to speed. I’d prefer not to have this conversation here. Honestly, I think I’d rather have it nowhere, or in the infinite void of space, but since neither of those is possible what’s the most secure area for discussion you have?”

  Graham took his time replying, scratching his chin and appearing to really think on the issue. “The DVA has some rooms that are pretty high-tech, but using them can raise the wrong kind of red flags in a situation like this. I’ve got my own spot, though, in an old base I used to use. I still swing by regularly, so showing up won’t be too strange. If you want a private conversation, it’s the best I’ve got.”

  “Then let’s schedule a meeting, or head there after the mixer,” Dean Blaine said. “The sooner you’re brought in on this, the better. There are people you need to be wary of.”

  Graham laughed again, this time restraining his cough. “I’m a Hero and a politician; you think that’s news to me?”

  187.

  The room was quiet, still, empty of any disturbance save for Nick’s controlled breathing. Even Eliza and Jerome were under strict orders not to bother him. Days like these when his friends were caught up in their trials were one of the few windows he had to work in with virtually no fear of distractions. And that was necessary for today’s task, because Nick was pushing himself in a way he’d never succeeded with before. Not on his own, anyway.

  It had taken him a long while, but he’d eventually managed to dig up and sift through nearly every bit of information available about his former classmates before their HCP arrival. The process had been tedious and ultimately inconclusive, which some part of him had expected. Whoever their mole was, they were good. Good enough to slip past all of the HCP screening processes and continue feeding Globe information even when the teachers were looking for just such a leak. It stood to reason their documentation and history would have been carefully crafted to ensure it didn’t draw any attention. Still, Nick had found a few things here and there. Not enough to prove anything, though it was adequate to give him a few suspects. The trouble was, to push on from here meant getting more hands-on, and Nick needed to get this right on the first try. If he chose wrong, he might spook the real mole and drive them into hiding, costing Nick his chance to pump them for information.

  That was part of why Nick had resorted to more desperate measures – part, but not all. The deal he’d made with Ms. Pips meant more than his freedom; it also meant he wouldn’t be able to use Vegas resources for much longer. When the break came, it had to be clean. Being raised by his aunt, who happened to have a few charges that never stuck lobbed against her, was one thing. Children didn’t get to pick their caretakers, after all. But if he was connected to Vegas post-college it might dent his political aspirations, and that was unacceptable. Besides, he doubted she’d be willing to give much help. Not until he had something to offer in return, anyway.

  Nick needed to replace the resources he was losing; he needed to grow more personally capable to offset the lack of assistance. That was why he was staring at a list of names, breath coming slow and steady as he tried to let his mind drift back to that night in May. The power he’d had then was out of his grasp, Nick understood that perfectly. He’d been juiced by an extremely powerful enhancer; no amount of effort would lift him to those levels again. At the same time, that didn’t mean his power was incapable of growing stronger: the sudden influx of accurate intuitions over the past few months were proof of that. Nick needed to do more than control the polarity of luck; he had to start shaping the outcomes, if only by a small amount. Because today he didn’t want to choose a name that would lead him to a great career opportunity or introduce him to a lifelong friend, even those would both be instances of good luck. He wanted to find the mole.

  The golden lines were still there in his memory, blurry but distinct. Nick could remember how it all felt more than anything – the certainty, the surety, the ability to see where it was all going and coming from. If he had full access to that world, Nick would be a force of nature. Not unstoppable: he’d been in and around the HCP long enough to know that was lunacy, but quite powerful nonetheless. Today he was trying to tap into some of that power, just a fraction. Whatever part of him had developed in the experience to allow for the intuition, he was hoping it had more room to grow. Otherwise, he’d have to resort to slower methods to flush out his mole, and time was a quickly dwindling resource.

  Slowly, Nick lifted a coin from his pocket and held it out, hands steady and unwavering. His eyes were glowing freely, sunglasses folded neatly on the side of the desk. They were the only item on the wooden surface, save for the piece of paper with Nick’s suspect list of people who had the capability to pull off the mole’s duties. He’d have added motive to the equation as well, if he could have found any. Unfortunately, either there wasn’t such evidence on paper or the mole’s documentation was too cleanly altered. Nick was betting on the latter.

  He pressed the edge of the coin into the center of the list, still holding it between his fingers. Nick reached out with his mind, digging as deeply as he could into the parts of his brain that felt more alive when he used his power. How long had he tried to crush these sections out of existence, tried to push them away, make them not real? Vince thought he knew what it was to fear his power, but at least when he hurt someone it was clear. With uncontrolled luck, any bad thing that happened to people Nick loved might be his fault, and that made it so much more terrifying. He’d never trusted his power, not really. Even post-procedure he’d viewed it as a tool, a neat trick that was occasionally helpful, but nothing to be depended on. Globe had called him out on that, and he hadn’t been wrong. A little luck here and there was enough to bluff his way through the early years of the HCP. His friends were moving on soon, though, and into a far more dangerous world. If Nick wanted to follow them, even from the sidelines, he needed more power. It was time to turn the part of himself that had always been an enemy into an ally.

  He put all of his thought and energy into those pieces of his mind that tingled with power. Instead of hammering them into submission or trying to corral them, he let the feeling wash over the rest of him. It wasn’t easy; he’d been trying for hours just today, but part of him always instinctually pushed the sensation away. This time, however, felt a little different. Whether it was practice in control or simple fatigue, Nick’s mental walls didn’t spring up with the same rigor as usual. The power coursed over him, through him, to whatever intangible presence out there governed things like luck.

  In his mind, Nick imagined finding the mole. He pictured a golden line that led from him to that achievement, knowing it would have consequences and accepting them as part of the bargain. Nick blocked out everything else, down to the sound of his own heartbeat, until the line filled up every piece of his considerable mind. Only when that was done did his fingers make a quick, flicking motion.

  The coin spun on its edge, circling the page in gradually growing outward spirals. Nick watched, yet paid little attention. His focus wasn’t on the show but rather the outcome, and he intended to keep his concentration until the very end. The coin was losing rotation, slowing down bit by bit. Nick held that golden thread in his mind, willing
the power to lead him there with everything he had. He needed this, his friends needed this, and depending on how accurate Shelby’s visions were, the entire world might need this.

  When it happened, it was easy to miss. Nick wasn’t even sure if it was actually visible or just an aspect of being in tune with his power. There was no mistaking it, though. The coin was starting to wobble in an empty stretch of page, meaning it would come down without telling him anything. Then, in the span of a blink, a brief spark flashed on its side, driving it toward a new direction. A spark as golden as the lines Nick had seen or the color currently glowing in his irises. No longer wobbling, now in mid-fall, the coin skittered across the page and tumbled down directly on top of a name. The first name on the list, in fact. It lay there, flashing no more sparks or golden light, as if daring him to doubt what he’d seen.

  With a long flow of breath, Nick released his focus. There was no guarantee this had worked. Even if the spark was real, it could very well have been his power manifesting in a way that didn’t give him what he wanted. Still, it had felt right, like he was a little closer to that night in May than he had been before. This would be a test. If the name was right, then he could trust that power a bit more next time. If it wasn’t, then Nick had to accept his ability for what it was. He did feel somewhat encouraged that the coin had picked the top name, though. That was who he’d have put his money on for their capability alone.

  Nick reached down and carefully plucked his coin from the page. “Looks like Adam and I are going to have a chat.”