by Hayes, Drew
“Legacy? Is there a reference or gravity pun here that I’m missing? Or maybe you meant to apply for a legacy name and filled out the wrong box?”
“Yes to the first, no to the rest,” Alice replied. “We were working on names this afternoon and Alex brought up the idea of picking one that might not make sense to the public but had an important meaning to us: something to remind us what we were out there to accomplish, why we were fighting, and what we wanted to stand for. It got me thinking about something a friend told me not long ago: I’m the Adair legacy now.”
She paused, briefly, eyes widening a touch as they darted around. It was quick but unmistakable, at least to someone who’d trained her. Alice was saying that there were too many ears down here to be fully honest, so she was going to choose her next words carefully.
“My dad is a cold-hearted bastard. People will remember him more for the companies he crushed and iron fist he used to rule the financial world than they ever will for his time as a Hero. And my uncle, while probably a decent guy at heart, is still going down in history as a criminal.”
As much as he might have liked to think that last comment was about him, especially since she’d manipulated it to sound like it was, Professor Pendleton knew she was referring to Globe. If they were talking about the Adair legacy, there was no way that man couldn’t be part of the discussion.
“Even before that, apparently my grandfather was a real piece of shit,” Alice continued. “The Adairs have done a lot of bad in this world – hurt loads of people, even ruined a few lives. If I want to make our name something worth having, something I might be able to pass down to my own children one day, I have a ton of work to do to balance the scales. I like the idea of keeping that debt with me at all times, wearing it, turning a potential weapon into my own armor. Legacy is a reminder of everything I’ve inherited from the ones that came before me – good and bad.”
It was one of the more well-considered pitches Sean Pendleton had heard in his tenure as professor. Alice had chosen a name that meant something to her, one that would be a source of strength in the dark times. But saddling herself with a burden like that came with dangers of its own. Those were her dangers to brave, though; she was a grown woman and on track to become a Hero in a few months. That didn’t mean there weren’t a few points to raise, however.
“I like it overall. It’s a solid choice. I’m just wondering what you’re going to tell reporters when they ask you about it, which they will. Can’t very well go into the family history while wearing a mask.” Professor Pendleton had a hunch she’d considered this, but he wouldn’t be doing his duty if he didn’t bring it to her attention.
In response, Alice’s eyes grew wide again, though there was nothing subtle about it this time. Her expression shifted; the small changes, nearly imperceptible when considered alone, combined to make her appear as if she was only half-listening. The biggest change was her smile, which turned wide and cheery instead its usual dignified, reserve curve. In a span of seconds Alice had gone from an excited but reserved Subtlety student to someone who looked… not stupid, perhaps, but the kind of overly-happy that people often took as an indication of stupidity.
“I chose Legacy as my name because that’s what I want to leave: a big lasting crater of positivity on the world, a means to inspire younger people to chase their dreams. Because with hard work and an upbeat attitude, you can be whatever you want!” Alice’s tone was airy, simple, and almost teeth-grindingly cheery. There was little trace of the hard, cunning, determined Hero Professor Pendleton knew was really there. He had to give her credit; it was solid character work, especially with such a short time to prepare.
“You realize no one will take that woman seriously, right?” Professor Pendleton asked.
“Realize it? I’m counting on it.” Alice’s grin warped and soon there was nothing vapid about it. The effect was strange to see coupled with her new expression, like a dolphin suddenly smiling and showing the teeth of a shark. “Let’s be frank here: I’m a tall blonde with curves. There was always going to be a contingent of people who wouldn’t take me seriously. If I lean into it, I can use it to my advantage. Everyone will think they can outfox the peppy gravity girl. The more they underestimate me, the better it is.”
“And all the people who’ll dismiss you outright, maybe even other Heroes who don’t want to work with you?”
“Fuck ’em. If someone can’t see the value in playing people’s expectations against them then I don’t imagine that person will be terribly useful to me. Besides, Subtlety Heroes aren’t supposed to be well-liked,” Alice pointed out. “Isn’t that the tradition?”
She had him there. Professor Pendleton took one last look at the page. He couldn’t say there wasn’t merit in her plan: it would probably serve her well. He still wished she’d chosen an easier direction, but that just wasn’t Alice Adair. No matter the situation, it seemed like she always set herself on the hardest possible path. As her uncle it worried him, but as a former Hero, it was a trait he was glad to see. That was the sort of grit one needed to last in the Hero world.
“You’d better practice that act a lot in the next few months,” Professor Pendleton told her. “Assuming you graduate, I suspect Legacy is going to get plenty of media attention.”
Alice’s face settled back into its normal expression, although the dangerous smile remained in place. “I can barely wait.”
191.
Mary wasn’t underground, at least not yet. She found herself sitting in a seemingly unused office tucked deep within the recesses of Lander’s science building. Dusty test tubes and neglected petri dishes lined the shelves surrounding the desk before her and the stiff plastic chair where she sat. It all felt very mundane, which was a curious sensation when dealing with anything even tangentially related to the HCP. She checked her watch, making doubly sure she had come at the right time. One minute until their scheduled meeting. It looked as though Dr. Moran would be late.
No sooner had Mary considered the possibility than the hand on her watch lurched forward. At the same time Dr. Moran breezed in, mouth full as she crammed down bites of a sandwich in sizes that were comical bordering on dangerous. She gave Mary a brief nod of acknowledgment, chewing hastily as she made her way to the other side of the desk. “Word to the wise: if you want to do this job then learn to eat and walk at the same time. It’s the only way you’ll get lunch sometimes.”
“I have to say, you seem busier than I remember from passing you in the old facilities.” Ostensibly this should be a safe place to talk, and even if it wasn’t, Mary didn’t technically have to fear being discovered anymore. Still, using double-talk when above ground was second nature to her, a nature she saw no reason to shake off just yet.
“Of course I looked put together down there. I have to seem calm and centered, the sort of rock-solid foundation students seeking guidance would require. The truth of the matter is I’m over-worked in a job that really needs more staff. But that’s my problem, not the kids’. They’ve got enough on their plates; they don’t need to worry about me too. Or you for that matter, assuming you took me up on the meeting because you’re interested in my offer.” Dr. Moran paused, not so much to give Mary time to answer but rather to wolf down the last bites of her food.
Mary waited patiently. In a few years, she very well might be the one in desperate need of five minutes to beat back hunger; offering Dr. Moran the courtesy of a pause now was the least she could do. Once Dr. Moran has chewed up the last hunk of crust, Mary answered. “I am indeed. I thought about what you said, about the hurdles I’ll be facing and the opportunity you presented me with. If I really want to do this job then I don’t think I’ll ever find a better training situation. And if it turns out I can’t hack it, then I’d rather learn that truth now so I can find somewhere else to apply myself.”
“I think you’ve got what it takes,” Dr. Moran told her. “But I’ve been wrong before. The work is hard, I won’t lie to you about that, and th
ere are days when it seems like you accumulate far more failures than successes. Every little bit we do matters, though… maybe not in big visible ways all at once, but trust me when I say that you can accomplish huge things through small improvements. So don’t let yourself give up too easily is what I’m driving at.”
“I assure you, that’s the last thing on my mind.” If Mary could make it through years of training, fighting, and dangerous tests when she hadn’t even wanted the prize at the end, she felt reasonably sure she could endure worse for a goal she genuinely desired.
“Let’s see how you feel after the first round of paperwork.” Dr. Moran reached into her bag and pulled out a large, thick stack of pages, setting them down on the desk with a muffled thud and sliding them over to Mary.
It was a daunting pile, even more so as Mary hunched over and noticed the small size of the print. “I have to read and sign all of this?”
“All of that? Mary, those are just the non-disclosure and contract forms you have to sign so I can talk to you about the job in real detail. If you want to take on the position… well, I don’t mind healing a sore hand, which you will be very grateful for once you see that stack.”
Much as Mary would have liked to take it as a joke, Dr. Moran didn’t look like she was kidding. In fact, she’d pulled out her laptop and appeared to be doing work of her own while Mary stared at the pages. Right; no time to waste. Picking up a pen, Mary looked down at the first page and started to read.
Time to see what she was signing up for.
* * *
“Sir, we have news.”
Crispin barely bothered looking up from his desk at the sound of Sherman’s voice. He knew the kind of news that his trusted aide, one of his few resources still remaining, would deliver: more arrests, more former members turning on the Sons of Progress, more signs that their infrastructure was crumbling away beneath them. If anyone besides Sherman knew his whereabouts, Crispin had no doubt they’d have handed him over by now. The Heroes probably would have traded full immunity and maybe a spot in the HCP to anyone willing to turn over the Sons of Progress leader. Between the money trail and the number of turncoats saving their own skin, it was no secret that the Sons of Progress was, more or less, dead. Now they wanted to hang him in the streets, to show the world what happened to those who attacked a Hero-training campus. He would have to rebuild, perhaps something newer, more dedicated; however, first Crispin had to watch the death of his first creation.
“How many more are lost now, Sherman?”
“Five of our operatives. We’re also received word that none of the East Coast freelance operators are willing to work with us anymore. Apparently being connected to the Sons of Progress brings down too much Hero attention.” Sherman’s report was professional as always, yet Crispin thought he dedicated a bit of a hurry in his words, like he was rushing to the next part. Strange, usually there wasn’t a next part to hurry to.
“Is that all?”
“No, sir. We’ve received a message. Someone made contact through an operative, wanting to pass an offer along to you. Apparently, they’re willing to help us if we’re willing to pool resources. Assuming they can be taken at face value,” Sherman said.
“Which they obviously can’t be. We’re at the end of our proverbial rope. There’s little left to do besides shut off the lights and lock the door behind us. All anyone would want is to pillage what few resources we still have and perhaps put you and me to good use. If not a hostile takeover attempt, who else would be desperate enough to align with a group in our position?”
“According to the message we received… Globe, sir.” Sherman’s voice wavered a bit, and with good reason. In terms of legendary figures, he may as well have announced that the Easter Bunny was offering them aid.
“Globe? The disgraced Hero who successfully managed that jailbreak a few years back?” Crispin hadn’t expected that. Globe might be the only other person in the world the Heroes were hunting with the same gusto as Crispin and Sherman. A Hero certainly wasn’t the sort that Crispin would prefer to throw in his lot with, but Globe was renowned for the way in which he’d turned his back on the world of capes and masks. If there was anyone who might be reaching out in an effort to give genuine aid, Globe was a strong contender. That didn’t mean Crispin trusted the message, but he also wasn’t quite so inclined to reject it out of hand.
“Send one back down the line,” Crispin ordered. “Let him know that we’re interested.”
192.
“And that’s what we’ve got laid out so far. Right now things are pretty stable, but once we start the ball seriously rolling, it’s all going to come to a head quickly. As far as I can tell, you’re genuinely out. No one in the group seems to be looking at our old members too suspiciously. Whether you stay that way is up to you. I left you a doorway, but there’s no need to walk through it.”
Will stared across the desk to Camille, who was carefully reading over the files he’d shown her. Despite not making it to the inner circle, she’d been adamant about receiving updates on the state of Take Back Lander. He’d expected some pushback when they got to the part about bringing in others, especially Nick, but there had been nary a peep. With her kind nature and innocent looks, it was easy to forget that Camille was among the most ruthless of the class when her loved ones were threatened.
“So, either way you need my help, it’s just a question of whether I do it at your side or from a distance?” Flipping the pages over, she slid them back to Will, who tucked the entire stack in a special safe installed in his desk. If anyone did try to break in the pages would be ash before they could ever be read. Better to lose work than have an operation compromised.
“Actually, it’s my deepest hope that you won’t be needed,” Will corrected. “Escalating to physical violence, even if we’re faking it, changes the stakes in a dangerous way. My goal is to keep things simple, digital, and impossible to prove. But I’m not as good at improvising at this as some of the others, so I need to build my contingency plans in advance. That way, if things do go awry, I’ve got options to fall back on.”
Although she didn’t say it out loud, Camille thought Will was selling himself short. In the years they’d known each other, he’d transformed from the tech-builder in Jill’s shadow to a formidable opponent in his own right, and that was just what he could do with the staff. When looking at the amount of skill he’d gained in Subtlety, Camille considered Will to be a very dangerous man… all the more so because he refused to over-estimate himself.
“I want to get in there. I really do. I want to be in that room, watching as they fall apart. Ever since I went to that first meeting I’ve longed to see these people brought down. But I’m not a Subtlety Hero. I don’t have the training you and Nick do. Part of being a Hero means knowing what you can and can’t accomplish, as well as trusting your friends, your team to fill in the gaps. So I leave it in your hands, Will. If you tell me that my being in the room is going to be helpful, then I’m in. If you think I’m going to be a detriment – or worse, put the whole group in danger – then I won’t be mad if you cut me out.” Much as she loathed the idea of walking away, Camille just couldn’t put her desire to be in the action over the safety of her friends. “The operation is what matters. Sending these people a message is what matters. You make sure they know this is our fucking home, and while we’ll share it freely, we will not be driven out.”
Will stared at her for several long seconds, blinking like a stunned owl. “You’re not usually a big fan of the f-word.”
“I don’t often get cause to use it,” Camille replied. “But for a lot of us, this college is the first place in the world where we’ve felt like we belonged. Where we were part of a community instead of being the lone freak in town. I love this campus, and the people it’s brought into my life, down to my bones. It’s the one spot where Supers shouldn’t have to be afraid of getting run off. I’ll do whatever you need, even if it means staying away, to help protect that.�
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“Hmm.” Will leaned back in his chair, mulling the idea over in that amazing brain of his. “I sent messages to some of the other members who didn’t make the circle, low-stakes stuff to ones I knew were tight with those who still remained. Let’s see how the next meeting goes. If they decide to bring in everyone we can to shore up their ranks, then I think you’d be able to smoothly transition to the Take Back Lander core. If they want to keep it limited to who we’ve got right now, I won’t force the issue. I could steer things in your direction, but maybe it’s better this way. The less they can see me moving them, the safer the operation.”
Much as she wanted to get back into the fray, Camille simply nodded in agreement with the proposal. Will had a point; it was less suspicious if he let the group take whatever direction they wanted. It would make her re-entry seem more natural, should it occur, and would paint him as a dopey follower either way. Given what he had planned with Nick – and Camille knew Will hadn’t told her everything –Will needed to be an inconspicuous as possible. If this blew back on him, it very well might be the end of his HCP career.
Someone else might have tried to talk Will out of it, to point out that he was risking a lot to thwart a group and that his chances for success were low. Camille understood, however. She knew what it was to watch people group up and turn against Supers. Take Back Lander could push and push and potentially ruin some Super’s life, all the while risking only a slap on the wrist if they were found out. It was too much to sit by and stomach yet again, especially when Will had the power to change things. Low chances of success or not, these people were targeting her and Will’s friends. That wasn’t the kind of shit a Hero stood on the sidelines for. Not the kind of Hero she wanted to be, anyway.
“Got a next play in mind?” Camille asked. There had been a few options outlined in the files, but she had no idea what direction Will was leaning.