by Hayes, Drew
Will found it odd that he was nervous. Not that the nerves showed – he’d certainly had enough training to conceal his tension – but that they were there at all was perplexing. Given the stakes he’d grown accustomed to, the success and well-being of his team or classmates on the line, this shouldn’t be more than a blip on his mental radar. After all, if things went truly sideways then the most likely thing to be lost would be his future. Scary a thought as that was, it really didn’t compare when he imagined doing this kind of work with lives at risk.
Yet he was still a touch nervous as he made his way into the familiar den of Kennedy Dawson’s home. It was easy to know intellectually that his future was a worthwhile sacrifice if it kept the others safe, but emotionally the possibility still scared him. It wasn’t that shocking; not even Chad had been able to keep his feelings at bay forever. Some things were simply inevitable, and fear regarding his fate was one of them.
Despite that, Will looked the same as always: unsure, a little out of place, displaying the slightest hint of fear. He didn’t belong around these people – they’d sniff that out one way or another – so Will had chosen to embrace that obvious difference by seeming intimidated by Kennedy’s wealth. It wasn’t a hard sell; the opulence was striking, especially compared to the little he’d grown up with. Looking like a lower-class student out of his depth made perfect sense, and if anyone ever noticed that Will wasn’t quite on the same page as most of the group, they chalked it up to that blatant difference. Perfectly blending in was beyond him, but playing to people’s assumptions was the best way he’d found to work around the issue.
The meeting went normally for the first ten minutes or so, Kennedy checking in to see if anyone had gotten more mysterious emails since their gathering. To Will’s delight, many reported seeing strangers watching them, or even following from a distance. In truth, Will hadn’t organized any of that; none of them had received so much as a text from an unknown number by his hand. So unless Nick had suddenly gone severely off-script, the Take Back Lander members were simply being paranoid. The worry showed on their faces, too. The mere fact that they were no longer operating unseen had stripped much of their bravado. Kennedy, predictably, was the least bothered, conducting the meeting with her usual calculated charm.
Her only moment of noticeable frustration came when no one had any more information to report about their efforts to uncover HCP-student identities. There were plenty of excuses tossed about, some more legitimate than others, but the end result was plain: people were scared. Their secrets had been brought into play, however briefly, and no one wanted to be the brave soul who pushed things too far and saw just how serious the mysterious email sender was.
Nevertheless, that glimpse behind the mask was brief; within moments Kennedy’s face returned to the very essence of control. “Very well,” she said once the last failed report was made. “It seems we need to have another talk about whether or not we are all truly committed to the cause. I told you that this enterprise came with risk and potential danger, and we all agreed that those were worth the cost in order to keep standing up for our school. If your feelings on that have changed, then let us air them out right here and now, because these half-hearted efforts are getting us nowhere. I seem to be the only one who is actively working to gain interviews and uncover clues, the only one refusing to be cowed by a few disappearing emails with no overt threat attached. If you are willing to bend so easily now, I can’t imagine how you’ll fare when you face real opposition.”
At her words, the lights cut out. It wasn’t for long, less than ten seconds, and they came back on before anyone could even yank their phone out of their pocket to turn on a flashlight. But when the room was visible once more, it was different. Specifically, there was someone new standing in the center of it. He was dressed well yet plainly, an unremarkable off-the-rack black suit that Will knew it must have physically pained Nick to don. He wore nothing distinctive, save for a simple gray mask similar to, yet not quite the same as, the ones employed by the students during the attacks last May. While the room stared at the stranger in shock, he seized the moment, leaning in to take a deep bow.
“You’ll have to forgive the intrusion, but when someone offers up a juicy entrance line like that it feels criminal to let it go to waste. Much as I’d like to introduce myself, that would rather defeat the purpose of the mask. You’ll have to simply think of me as a Ghost of Lander. A bit theatrical, I’ll be the first to admit, but thematically sound enough to justify.”
This next moment was crucial. Will watched the crowd absorb the appearance of this stranger. He really hoped they wouldn’t do anything stupid, but already he could see that was a lost cause. Fear masquerading as anger was overriding their common sense; Tad looked as though he was about to jump up and rush the intruder. That couldn’t happen. If this got physical with a regular student, it dramatically changed the stakes and the situation. This was why they’d built in a contingency for the possibility, albeit one that Will wasn’t particularly fond of.
Leaping to his feet, Will stalked over to the Ghost of Lander looking as menacing as he could manage. “Listen, asshole. I don’t know who you think you are, but this is private property, and we’re not going to stand for it.” Rearing back, he took a wide swing at Nick’s skull. The punch never connected, instead Nick easily blocked it while countering with a swift, simple jab to Will’s nose. They’d talked it over at length, and much as they might have preferred to go with a staged punch, it had been decided that realism was more vital to the plan. Will dropped to his knees, clutching his face, before slowly inching back toward the nearest chair.
“Ghosts can’t trespass: they don’t exist in the first place,” Nick replied. “And if you want to search for proof of that, I ask only that you check the security system. You’ll find no record of me setting foot in this house. Your overeager friend did an excellent job of providing an example of why I’m here, though. In a word: reciprocation. He tried to throw a punch when I was content to keep things verbal, and in return I hit him back. The only difference you might notice is that my hit was much better.”
Nick whipped his head suddenly, locking eyes with Tad, who’d been easing up from his seat. “One could, if they were so inclined, compare it to a bunch of bastards hunting around for the secret identities of HCP students. Bumbling and inept as they might be, it’s clearly an attack. So if someone were to come along and hit back, someone far better at digging up other people’s secrets, what would that really be except simple reciprocation?”
“There’s one big difference in your example.” Kennedy was on her feet, looking the intruder dead in the eye. She was the least predictable element here; Will couldn’t properly estimate what sort of actions she’d take. Dealing with her was entirely at Nick’s discretion, a fact which had in no small part contributed to Will’s case of nerves. “What we’re doing is legal. What you’ve done is breaking and entering and invasion of privacy, and probably violates a few laws about hacking as well.”
“Ah, but there’s the rub. When you talk about legality, you talk about proof. You’ve got none of it. No emails to show, no footage to prove I was here, just the word of a group that has proven itself to be aligned against the HCP. Feel free to try and snap some pictures; you’ll find your phones unwilling to cooperate. Unlike all the video and soundbites I’ve put together – for you see, unlike you, I have heaps of proof. And if I’m pushed, people will know about your little clubhouse meetings, about you coldly discussing outing future Heroes. I imagine the press will have a good time with that. Heroes might be polarizing but people are more empathetic to mere students, especially ones who recently suffered a serious attack. I bet some of the people in your own families and companies might take such offense that they leaked personal secrets of yours. Well, the emails would come from their accounts, anyway.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Will noticed Tad starting to rise again. Damnit. He’d expected that watching someone else get swiftly handled would drive
home that this stranger was dangerous, but some people were too dumb to take a hint. He tried to catch Nick’s attention as Tad rose, hoping dearly there was a way to cut this off before things moved to the next level.
As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. Nick had ample failings, but a lack of planning and preparation was not among them. Nick turned his masked face back to Tad, who met his stare and tilted slightly forward, clearly preparing to rush him. In the moment of hesitation, Nick made a simple gesture with his hand. From the wall, Tad’s chair shot out, bumping into his knees and catching him as an unseen force gently shoved Tad backwards.
“That was rude. Do you always interrupt people when they’re talking? Never mind, I don’t care about you enough to hear the answer. But as you can now hopefully tell, I’ve come to be heard. I would highly recommend you all keep your responses verbal. Otherwise…” The small part of Nick’s mouth that could be seen split into a chilling grin as he spread his arms and gave a casual shrug. As he did, many of the objects in the room lifted a few inches up, hovering there for several seconds before clattering back down.
“Otherwise, I think you already know my policy on reciprocation.”
236.
“This is hardly what I’d expect from a future Hero.” Kennedy was, somehow, still holding it together. Her eyes were locked on Nick, even as the rest of the room shrank back after that display of power. “Maybe we will look bad, maybe your sound files can tarnish our reputations, but don’t think the HCP will walk out of this clean. With all of us telling the same story, some people will believe us – enough to wonder what sort of Heroes-in-training use their gifts to shove normal humans around.”
Nick glanced over to her, never allowing the crowd as a whole to leave his sight for more than a few moments. Will could see esteem in that gaze; Nick had also noted her ability to stay cool. None of the respect made it to his smile, however – that was a far more theatrically wicked smirk than Nick would have ever affected without a mask.
“That might be true, if I were indeed in the HCP. But too bad, so sad, I’m afraid I didn’t make the cut. None of us did. So all you can really tattle about is the fact that the HCP keeps people like me, people who take these kinds of actions, away from being Heroes. Sort of proves that they’re doing the job right, don’t you think?”
“Bullshit.” Tad wasn’t getting out of his seat, the telekinetic display had cowed him, but he still had enough stubborn willfulness to talk shit. In an odd way, Will was slightly impressed. Given a different context, he might have called it bravery. “Why the fuck would you care about us going after HCP students if you washed out? You’re bluffing. A real HCP failure would want us to succeed, to get payback on the people who took their spot.”
In a flash, Nick was across the room, never touching Tad yet glaring down at him with enough force that it may as well have been a physical shove. “Whether you know it or not, you just revealed far more about yourself than intended. Don’t be surprised if no one in this room ever trusts or speaks to you again, you sniveling fucking worm. And since you don’t get it, let me explain using small words: just because I didn’t make it doesn’t mean I don’t have friends in the HCP. Unlike you, some of us are capable of seeing past our own self-interest. So when you mess with the HCP, you mess with our friends, and that is a very dangerous proposition.”
He whirled around, glaring at the rest of the room. Nick was pinging between charm and madness at a hectic rate. Even Will was not sure what to expect from one moment to the next. “Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be. You have no leverage, because I’ve kept all proof out of your hands. You have no recourse, because I’m not an HCP student so they can’t be held responsible for any of my actions. At best, you might be able to figure out who I am – I’ve certainly shown enough power to give you some clues – but the HCP drums out far more students than it keeps. If you think I’m the only one with loyalty, the only one who feels a drive to protect that place… well then, you’re pretty damn stupid, because I’ve been blatantly using words like ‘ours’ and ‘we’ this whole time.”
The last swerve of the sentence took the room by surprise. It had felt like Nick was building toward some threat, instead he had simply pointed out semantics. Odd as it was, Will saw the logic. It was the sort of unexpected tonal shift that kept the room off-center. As soon as they thought they could guess what Nick was going to do, he lost some of his power. By being wholly unpredictable, he left them in a constant state of uncertainty.
“Any other pointless questions? Do any of you want to appeal to my sense of morality, or maybe try to convince me that what you’re doing is right?” Nick actually paused, waiting to see whether they would try to debate him or not. “Good. Looks like there’s hope for this lot yet. One last thing: if you want to keep your little social club going, feel free. I don’t give a shit about you protesting or getting signatures or whatever you were up to before this. Fight the HCP all you like in the light of day. But when you try to do something as wicked as revealing students’ identities, you step into the shadows. That’s where you’ll find the real monsters, hungry and waiting. That’s where you’ll find the HCP’s cast-offs, the ones not quite moral and decent enough to be Heroes. Come if you like. Just be ready. The Ghosts of Lander certainly will be.”
Again, the lights flickered, although this time no one tried to scramble for their phone. A few seconds later, when they cut back on, Nick had vanished. Silence hung over the room for nearly a minute, until Kennedy finally pulled herself up from the chair.
“Well, that was quite a show. We should take heart though, this means we’re on the right trail. If we weren’t a real threat, the HCP wouldn’t be sending its thugs to try and scare us. Now if we keep pushing–”
“Are you crazy?” Tad had found his tongue again and was pulling himself out of the chair that Nick had appeared to throw him into. “Did you not see that shit? You could feel the crazy coming off of that guy. He covered every angle, had us pinned to the wall, almost literally. We know they’ve got a tech Super from the emails. Now a telekinetic, who is probably a telepath too. For fuck’s sake, Kennedy, this isn’t a fight worth picking anymore.”
“Perhaps we did get too ambitious with our efforts to uncover identities, but we have other options available. Despite his bluster, I feel relatively certain the HCP would care about one of their failures threatening other students. We can subject ourselves to a telepath as proof, even without video. Not to mention, this is our biggest lead yet. Think about it: we know that man’s power, height, and general build. If we can figure out who he is, then his social circle is almost certainly going to have HCP students in it.”
It was a good, logical plan. The problem was that Nick had stolen the room’s capacity for logic and replaced it with fear. Kennedy was making her first mistake, and it was one Will understood all too well. She was trying to reason with people, using thought instead of feeling. Sometimes that was the right move; however, against a manipulator like Nick Campbell, one first had to undo the emotional damage he’d wrought. Nick had scared them, taken away every idea of recourse they had. Until they were past that, no amount of good sense would break through.
Some people listened to Kennedy; others walked out without so much as a goodbye. That was the start of the exodus, but far from the end. One by one they all filed out, keenly aware that they had more to lose than to gain by going down this path. In less than five minutes, Will and Tad were the last ones remaining.
“Look, Kennedy, I don’t like Supers either, and I sure as hell don’t want to share a campus with them. But you want us to keep going on a wild goose chase, knowing it will piss off some really powerful people. If you want to go back to protests or something, give me a call. You made it too real with this identity shit. That guy is right; we stepped into a world we weren’t ready for. And I’m taking the chance to get out while it’s here.”
Tad strode out the front door without another word. Will rose to his feet,
intending to give Kennedy a quick nod of farewell, but her hand fell on his shoulder.
“We should ice that nose, it’s starting to swell.” Despite having just watched her whole organization walk out on her, she gave Will a surprisingly caring smile. As he was looking at her, Will dimly heard Tad’s car engine fire up and his tires tear out of the driveway. Kennedy’s smile deepened at the noise. “And now that he’s gone, why don’t you tell Nick and Mary to go on home? We’ve got some things to discuss, and I’m sure they can’t be comfortable hiding in the bushes.”
237.
“I… wait… pardon?” Will stammered out the half-assed reply, mentally trying to cope with going from victory to discovery in the span of a few seconds.
“Never mind, I’ll handle it.” Kennedy turned toward the nearest window. “Mary, Nick, I’m sure you’re listening to my mind, if not my words. Will can explain later, but for now I’d like some privacy. I’ve stopped obscuring my thoughts enough for Mary to have a good idea of what’s going on, so I expect to not have to ask again. You’re not the only one who can be scary when they want to.”
There was a small rustle of movement from near one of the windows as two shadowy figures appeared. The shorter one gave a brief wave before they both walked out of sight. Seemingly content with the result, Kennedy’s attention returned to Will. “Come on; let’s go to the kitchen for ice. I wasn’t kidding about you needing some. And don’t you dare get that injury healed; it wouldn’t do for all your work to come apart just because one of those dicks saw you with an uninjured nose too soon.”
Will followed along, brain in overdrive as he tried to reassess the situation. He probably wasn’t in danger, since Mary would never have left if she’d seen violent thoughts in Kennedy’s mind. That didn’t mean he wasn’t in trouble, though; he’d definitely broken more than a few rules in this operation. Taking a deep breath, Will calmed himself. If he was busted, that was fine. He’d always been willing to pay the price if it meant keeping his friends safe. Take Back Lander and the identity-hunting enterprise was dead. The HCP seniors were as safe as they could be. If it cost him his spot, then so be it.