by Hayes, Drew
“There’s a little bit of time left, maybe you can go make some new friends with loads of power they don’t mind casually throwing around for a near stranger.” Mary paused, moved a pawn of her own, and then resumed. “I realize that might have come off as sarcastic, but it wasn’t entirely meant to be. If anyone can do something like that, it’s you. I’ve watched people fly, punch through concrete, and turn into living fog, but you’ve still pulled off things I genuinely consider to be impossible. I mean, you’re dating Alice for goodness sake. This has to be easier than someone like you winning over a woman like her.”
“Hurtful, but not entirely inaccurate. Perhaps I’ll dig around a little more and see what I can find. I am quite good at making friends, when I want to be.” Nick set down the bylaws and picked up his laptop to start a new kind of research. He’d barely turned the power on before he heard Mr. Numbers say “checkmate” from across the room. There were bound to be a few people who fit the bill on what he needed and were open to useful alliances. After all, who didn’t need a little more luck in their lives?
245.
Clarissa was right; coffee had been a good call. Phil talked for a large chunk of the morning, about faking the death of Globe, going into hiding, finding and raising Vince, ultimately faking his own death again to keep the boy away from the operatives Charles had sent searching for Globe. From there, it was more wandering and living under the radar for a couple of years until chance brought him back into contact with an old friend who was also on the run: Gerard. The Hero once known as Raze was missing, publicly presumed dead by many, and living in the shadows where he could. Neither were quite sure why no one used a tracking Super to run him down, but their best hunch was that nobody wanted Raze dragged into the public eye, kicking up a fuss and contradicting the existing story. As long as he stayed out of sight, he got to keep on living, if one could use that term to describe what he was doing.
From there, things spiraled outward. Each had thought himself an anomaly, but now that they knew two Heroes had been screwed over by the system it wasn’t hard to assume there would be more. Tentative, careful feelers were sent out, and over time they found more of their lot. Not all were willing to fight, though some passed word on to others that they knew. Slowly, the group came together, a band of those the Hero world had forsaken, set on exposing the corruption to the world. George had been a surprise that came to light when they discovered he was fishing around in the same pools of information; both had taken it as a given that he was in on Raze’s fall from grace. After meeting with Phil, George joined the movement and brought Persephone along as well. Some who the system had betrayed were left in their positions on the condition of silence, a condition neither George nor Persephone could bear any longer.
Through the tale, Sean marveled at what Phil had done. Most would have rolled over after being turned on by their own brother, or gone mad with rage and sought revenge. Only the few like Phil would marshal tragedy into motivation that could be used, harnessed to pull out the source of the corruption by the root. He hadn’t gone crazy over what had been done to him; rather he resolved that he would be the last to experience it. This was the reason that people followed him, the same reason why even in the Class of Legends, Phil had stood out.
“…and after we compared enough notes, it became clear that the only way to bring this out into the open was to expose something huge, done by someone so connected and influential that it would thrust every major decision of the last few decades into suspicion. When we uncover Charles’s crimes, we can show how much manipulation went on in the shadows. It should be more than enough to warrant independent investigation under close public scrutiny. If it goes well, then perhaps some of those hurt by the system can have their lives back, but at the very least this should make it harder for those kinds of tricks to be pulled in the future.”
Sean drained the last of his coffee, thinking over the plan carefully. This was the other side of Phil’s mentality, the part that was problematic. He was too optimistic, too hopeful. As much as that gave him the willpower to do incredible things, at times it also clouded his judgment. Intra had been the more pragmatic one, tempering Globe’s idealist nature with reminders of how the world actually worked.
“Look, Phil, I’m on board. I want to make that clear from the outset. You’re searching for my sister and trying to topple the bastard who took her away from me in the first place. If the plan to do that involved busting into the Pentagon I’d still be with you. But there are powerful people with a lot to lose out there. Charles is a lynchpin. Dragging his sins into the light will absolutely get things moving. You need to understand that it might not be enough, though. Cover-ups happen, and with enough money and influence there are always a few ‘get-out-of-jail-free’ cards to play. This will shake things up, no question, but I don’t think it’s going to be the silver bullet you’re hoping for.”
Despite the pessimistic reply, Phil didn’t seem bothered. He was still smiling, still more cheerful than any man who’d endured his life had a right to be. “Trust me, I know. If there’s one thing Intra’s death taught me, it’s that things are never as simple or easy as we want them to be. I understand that this is probably only going to be the first blow in a long battle, but I can give us an advantage by making sure the initial strike is a strong one. From there, I’ll have to trust others to carry on the fight. People like Graham DeSoto and Blaine in the DVA, and you in the HCP. Not all of the people I found are on this team. Some of them are still out there, waiting for the signal that our battle has begun before they take up the fight in their own ways. I get it: this is the beginning, not the end. But this is still my part to play. I have to do my best with it.”
“You make it sound like you’re not going to be around for whatever comes after,” Sean noted. Across the room, Clarissa wordlessly rose from her seat and stepped away. That simple action gave away the answer before Phil opened his mouth.
“I won’t be. I can’t be.” Phil lowered his eyes from Sean’s, looking down at Clarissa’s coffee table. “Even if I get exonerated for Intra’s death, and that’s a big ‘if’ off the bat, I’ve broken too many laws. Avoiding arrest, breaking into a prison, accessory to attempted kidnapping, and that’s just the ones most people know about. There’s no version of this where I’m not locked up once the dust settles. At the very best, if things go perfectly to plan, I’m still going to end up in a white jumpsuit for the rest of my life.”
His eyes lifted from the table, meeting Sean’s once more. “And I’m at peace with that. I’m never going to be a Hero again, not after everything that’s happened. At least this way I have the chance to go out making a difference one last time: making the Hero system better for all the people who still need it, still trust it. Making sure my son never ends up in the same position that I did. For all of that, a few decades in prison is a small price to pay.”
“You deserve better than that.”
“I killed my best friend. I don’t deserve even the happiness I’ve gotten.” Phil took a moment to collect himself before continuing. “I trust you, Sean. I’ll tell you everything we know, everything we’ve got planned, bring you fully into the circle. But I have one demand in exchange: keep the kids away from this. I know you had to use them to get the messages from Abridail and that’s fine. Let that be it. Enough futures have been lost already; I want your word that theirs won’t end up on the chopping block. I think my son and his friends are going to do great things for the world one day. I can’t rob them of the chance by letting them get caught up in the last generation’s dirty laundry.”
“I won’t bring them in any deeper,” Sean promised. It wasn’t technically a vow to keep them fully away from the action, because he knew such words would be meaningless. Those kids had a talent for finding their way into trouble, and it was entirely possible they’d stumble into something on their own. Sean could only push them away to the best of his ability.
Phil seemed to get it, or to take Sean on
the spirit of the promise more than the words themselves. He took a long breath, chanced a glance out the window, and then leaned in slightly. “We’re close. Very close. And if all goes well, we hope to have the data decrypted by our next real window for action: the day when the HCP and the DVA will all have its attention focused on something other than us.”
Years of working in and teaching Subtlety weren’t for nothing. Sean instantly connected the dots Phil was setting out. “Intramurals. You want to strike the lab while the DVA’s focus is on security for Intramurals.”
246.
It wasn’t hard to discern the reason behind the meeting. There were, after all, a limited number of topics about which Dean Blaine would call the specific group of Alice, Chad, Shane, and Vince down to discuss on a Sunday. As a whole, the HCP was usually pretty good about respecting the sanctity of weekends, allowing its students time to recover as well as participate in the normal college lifestyle. These days were important, because they both permitted the students to better hide their identities and allowed them a small sense of normalcy. That shred of regular life would only diminish the deeper they went into the Hero world, so the staff generally made a point of letting them enjoy as much of it as possible. But there were exceptions, and this was one of them.
“While I am not permitted to tell you any details about what the matches will entail, and in fact I don’t have the details to share, we have found that it is easier to bring our students in and explain the overall process for Intramurals ahead of time.” Dean Blaine stood before them in his office, with Professor Baker off to the side taking notes for some reason. The best guess in the room was that maybe he needed to have a witness on hand as proof that he didn’t slip them any additional information that might give them an edge. They all knew Dean Blaine would never do such a thing, but perhaps the preceding HCP deans had not shared his moral conviction.
“Sixteen students will be participating, three from every school except for the host, who is given a fourth spot to round out the numbers. It will be comprised of single, one-on-one matches where the loser is eliminated and the winner moves forward. The slots for each match are already set in terms of which school will be fighting against which; we space them out in a way to make sure that several rounds would pass before students from the same school were able to fight one another. At the start of Intramurals, every student will draw one of their school’s slots at random and the bracket will be set.”
Quietly, Chad raised his hand to get Dean Blaine’s attention. The others expected Dean Blaine to ignore the interruption until he was done, but to their surprise he paused and nodded at Chad.
“Is single elimination really the best method for such a contest? If we are looking to determine overall skill, this is a poor choice. Someone of considerable ability could simply be put against a Super whose power is perfectly suited to dealing with them, like the classic advanced mind and strongman example.”
“Most strongmen have to find ways to deal with advanced minds anyway,” Dean Blaine pointed out.
“True, yet it missed my point. If the real goal is to measure overall prowess there should be some checks in place, or at least a loser’s bracket of some sort to allow for redemption. This system has flaws.”
Dean Blaine didn’t respond quite as quickly this time, mulling over Chad’s words. “Every system has flaws; that’s just the nature of living in an imperfect world. Circling back to the example with the advanced mind and the strongman, you’re the one who missed my point, Chad. Strongmen have to find ways to deal with advanced minds because in the field they could end up in that battle. Any fight can happen, at any time. We’re not doing this to see who is the best in a balanced, fair competition. The goal is for students to prove who among them is the best in terms of Heroic battles. Those fights aren’t fair, almost ever. Usually we’ll have an upper hand; sometimes the crooks will have the advantage. But you still have to fight on all the same. Being a Hero means sometimes overcoming obstacles that seem unassailable as much as it means not letting yourself get complacent. The tournament works on the same principle as the real Hero world: you only get one shot to win. Usually if you fail, you’re taken out in a far more permanent fashion.”
“Ah. So this is a philosophical test more than a purely practical one. Objection withdrawn.” Chad set his hand back in his lap and waited patiently for the talk to resume.
“As I was saying, once you’ve drawn your slots, the field conditions will also be determined at random. You might end up doing battle in a plain combat cell like the ones you’re accustomed to. Just as easily, you could be in a large open area with nothing between you and the enemy, or a mock city such as the one you’ve handled training exercises in. There are also fields like you saw in sophomore year, as well as new terrains that are rocky, cold, wet, and so on. The goal is to keep you on your toes until the very last moment, so that even once you know what a potential opponent can do you’ll still have to formulate a strategy based on the environment. Remember: by its nature Hero work is reactionary. We very rarely get to choose where we do battle. Often it’s a city, but not always. Being able to adapt to new terrain and enemies is very much a part of what makes a successful Hero.”
Dean Blaine scanned the students to make sure they were taking in the information well. It wasn’t especially complex, but sometimes the sheer pressure of what they were facing could make it difficult to absorb on the first pass. This didn’t appear to be the case, however, as every gaze was looking back without a shred of confusion. The class had done a good job picking these four as their representatives, for their power as much as their ability to stay calm when things got rough. The latter might prove to be more important than the former, depending on what opponents they drew.
“If any of you have more questions, now is a fine time to ask them.”
Like a blur, Shane’s hand went up first, and Dean Blaine motioned for him to speak.
“Sir, what is the soonest we might be able to fight someone from Lander? You said the slots for each school are pre-set, so assuming we all win our matches, when could we go up against one another?”
There wasn’t a question in anyone’s mind who Shane wanted to have a match with. Given the public nature of the contest and his feelings toward the way he’d earned the top spot, this was his best chance for a final, definitive bout against Chad.
“The semi-finals,” Dean Blaine said. “If you and the other Lander student on your side of the bracket win both of your first two fights, then you would face one another before the final bout. Since the goal is to test our students against new opponents, we’ve structured the contest in a way that keeps you pitted against the other schools for as long as possible.”
“Two fights,” Shane repeated. He leaned forward in his chair, meeting eyes with Chad. “I can do that. How about you?”
“My goal is to win the entire competition, so passing the first two fights is a given. However, that’s only true if we end up in exactly the right layout. It’s possible you could keep winning and not see me until the very end.”
“Fine by me, if that’s what it takes.” Shane grinned at his friend, who returned the gesture with a small smile of his own.
“Good,” Chad told him. “I hope you can see that resolve through. This won’t feel like a satisfying victory unless I can defeat you to earn it.”
247.
There had never been any question that Titan would take the time to see Intramurals. His frequent association with Lander’s dean over the last year meant getting in wasn’t an issue, and for a time he’d suspected his sons might be competing. Although it hadn’t panned out that way, he still wanted to see the matches; after spending the preceding summer helping train all of the competitors, Titan wanted to witness how much they’d grown in their final year at Lander. Titan was always going to attend Intramurals, but several days before the competition kicked off it wasn’t Titan who made a special trip to Lander, it was Owen Daniels.
He didn
’t often show up to these sorts of places out of costume anymore; now that he was back in the Hero life it felt important to own that identity, especially when younger Supers were on hand to see him. This wasn’t Hero business, however. At least, not primarily. No, today he’d come as a father, fulfilling a request from his children. Roy had been the one to ask for the meeting, but he assured Owen that Hershel wanted to talk as well. It was the location that tipped Owen off to the unique nature of the impending discussion, for they didn’t want to meet him at the HCP, or in the dorms, or a bar, or even a gym: all the normal places he’d expect his sons to choose.
Instead, they’d invited him to a junkyard. Scrapyard, really, since it was mostly rusted and discarded hunks of metal littering the ground. Owen carefully steered his rented truck through the obstacles. Teleporting might have been faster, but there was something to be said about driving, taking some time for one’s self to sort through stray thoughts. While there was only so much to contemplate on the way in, Owen had a hunch he’d have a lot more to chew on when this was over. Pulling up next to Roy’s motorcycle, its age starting to show, Owen killed the engine and hopped out of the cab. No sooner had his feet hit the ground than Roy stepped into view from behind a half of an old sedan.
“Ain’t exactly the same as our old spot, but it was the best Hershel and I could find.” Roy took a few steps forward, bringing him in range of a beaten-up washing machine that had obviously been dragged to precisely that position. “You remember when I had to struggle to lift one of these?”
“I do. I told you it was too heavy, that you’d get there eventually, and you somehow decided that was a personal challenge. You started working out every chance you got, even when I wasn’t training you, until we went to the old junkyard and you finally got that thing overhead. To this day, I’m still not sure what you were more proud of: lifting the washing machine or proving me wrong.”