by Hayes, Drew
* * *
Mr. Numbers sat quietly, reading the reports. He’d had a hunch this was coming. It was impossible to miss the way Professor Pendleton had been acting, at least for someone with Mr. Numbers’ observation skills. The man was an expert at Subtlety, but he was still human. Flickers of annoyance, the slight tensing of nerves, these things had to be repressed, which meant there would be signs of them trying to get through. And every one of those signs had grown worse as this day approached: the day of Intramurals, when the DVA and the Heroes would be watching every HCP campus with unwavering focus. The day when the rest of the country might just be a little less observed for all the attention being paid to ensure no one repeated last year’s attack.
It was obvious, when one looked at it as data. True, not many people were privy to as much information as Mr. Numbers, so it was forgivable that more hadn’t seen this coming. But for him, it was such a given that he wasn’t remotely surprised when reports began to come through about a seemingly unrelated data point: employees of their company were suddenly turning up missing. To Mr. Numbers – who had seen a lot and was, quite obviously, preternaturally good at this sort of thing – it was clear that Charles Adair had been helping himself to the company’s talent for quite a while. Already this morning, Mr. Stop and Mrs. Tracking had both been called in to deal with sudden disappearing employees, and word was that Mr. Numbers and Mr. Transport might be pulled away from their Lander duties at any moment. The data points all led to the uncontrivable conclusion: today was the day.
He hadn’t bothered to tell Mr. Transport, who was hanging around the HCP, hoping to get the results of the students’ matches. Whether the order came from management, Charles Adair, or even Isaac Lamont himself, Mr. Numbers had no intention to join the fray just yet.
A man with his gift could figure out quite a lot, and it was plain early on that one way or another, it was always going to come to this. Truth against lies, brother against brother, Globe and Charles were on a collision course from the start. That was why he’d stayed silent, even as the pieces fell into place. Mr. Numbers couldn’t have stopped it; the most he might have accomplished was a brief delay. But now that the conflict was finally here, there would be new possibilities, fresh data to consider. When and how Mr. Numbers intervened, if indeed he chose to do so at all, would hinge on how much a difference he might be able to make. And what he was able to save.
It was almost a given that the company would be pulled down with Charles Adair, if the latter sank. They were too interconnected, both fiscally and with deeds in the shadows. Too many of Mr. Numbers’ compatriots had been lured away by the temptation of endless funds. To save the company would require saving Charles Adair, and that was not an idea in which Mr. Numbers took much joy. Still, he had to consider it, because that was what he did. Every possibility, every angle, every factor, all of it had to be crunched in that unnatural brain of his.
There had always been other Supers who were stronger than Mr. Numbers – or tougher, or faster, or sometimes even flat-out smarter. But he understood his strength better than they did. Mr. Numbers knew that one didn’t need snow or rock manipulation powers to start an avalanche. Sometimes all that was required was a single stone and a perfect throw.
Mr. Numbers sat at his desk, computer open as more reports of strange lights and fire came from a supposedly uninhabited section of woodlands in a flyover state. It was unfolding right there in front of him, and he didn’t let a single bit escape his notice.
When the time came, he would be sure he knew exactly where to throw his stone.
284.
They’d drawn a semi-city environment. Although this one was visibly barren and derelict – more parking lots than buildings, and the few structures that were around them were rundown. Weaker too, no doubt. This was probably a training room that had been used to make students hyper-aware of potential collateral damage; one rogue strike could bring down a building full of hypothetical people. It was strangely heartening for Vince to see a familiar face across from him, lit by the flickering neon of a nearby sign. Shane was a way off, nothing between them but painted asphalt.
“Students, since you both come from Lander I’m sure you know each other, but for the sake of formality let’s go ahead and do introductions anyway,” Victor’s voice instructed.
The tension in the air lifted slightly as Shane permitted himself a small grin. “Shane DeSoto, Control major. My Hero name is going to be Styx.”
“Vince Reynolds, Close Combat major. Still haven’t found a good name.”
“You really need to get on that, Vince.” Shane’s smile faded as they both tensed, waiting for Victor to signal the start of the match.
“Very well, Lander, time to see which of you will represent your school in the final bout. Students, begin!”
Both men acted at once. Shane didn’t waste a second, summoning a blade from Vince’s own shadow and stabbing toward his leg. The attack succeeded in piercing his uniform, but the burning light that burst forth ripped apart the shadow immediately. All of Vince was shining with the same glow, a constant stream of absorbed light pouring out of his skin.
“Figured that out, huh?” Shane asked.
Vince nodded, never entirely taking his eyes off Shane. “It was pretty obvious after fighting with and against you all these years. Your shadows never get too close to a source of light, because the closer they go, the weaker they become. Release a constant stream of light and your power will be unable to even scratch me. I made a point of absorbing plenty, just in case we got matched up.”
“You’ve come a long way from the early days, I’ll give you that. There is one flaw in your strategy, however.” Shane’s gaze shifted, yet the sclera of his eyes remained dark. He was still in touch with his shadows, ready to summon them with a thought. “If you’re constantly outputting light, it means you’re unable to absorb or shoot anything else. This neutralizes your power too.”
It was Vince’s turn to grin as he raised his fists and adjusted his stance. “I know. Part of why I liked this method. Seemed like a perfect opportunity to show everyone watching that we’re more than just our raw abilities. We’ve got some good old-fashioned hand-to-hand skills as well.”
Shane began to slowly circle Vince, keeping at a healthy distance while scanning the environment. “I’m game for a melee fight, but I’ll warn you now: drop that light for even a second and I’ll strike. You absorb a single punch and I’ll slice you from a half-dozen angles.”
“I’d expect nothing less. You’re not an opponent I can afford to let my guard down around. My best bet of beating you is in a straightforward fight.”
“As I recall from freshman year training, we were pretty evenly matched on that front,” Shane said.
“We were. But I stayed in Close Combat, while you went the Control route. I wonder what sort of gap that creates between us?” Vince was moving too, not in any direction, just shuffling his stance as he watched Shane circle.
Shane kept shifting, probing for any angle of attack that might be slightly more advantageous. “You assume I haven’t kept up with that training on my own.”
“Of course not. You’re Chad’s best friend; I’m sure you’ve been sparring all the time in your off hours. I really don’t know which of us is going to win this match,” Vince admitted. “I just want it to be whoever is truly stronger. We’ve seen what Conrad can do. Lander deserves the best it has remaining to fight him.”
“Hand-to hand-combat isn’t necessarily the best way to determine that,” Shane pointed out.
Vince kept on turning, showing Shane the same stance no matter where he moved. “Maybe not, but given how closely we’re matched, it’s going to come down to judgment, determination, and endurance. Those are factors I could definitely see making the difference in the Conrad fight.”
“Well then, I suppose let’s see which of us wants this more.”
Shane didn’t hesitate. He bolted forward, taking a few careful swings for Vi
nce’s ribs. They were easily blocked, which he’d expected, and Vince countered by throwing some jabs of his own. Shane nimbly moved out of the way, striking back with a kick aimed at Vince’s knee, only to connect with air as Vince yanked it out of the way.
They were testing one another, getting a sense of their opponent’s speed and patterns. It had been a long time since they faced one another like this; each had grown in countless ways. Truth be told, the experience probably would have been enjoyable in other circumstances. But whatever light-hearted joy they took in combat was squashed by the pressure of those watching, unseen, in the viewing room. All those Heroes, scanning them, evaluating them, seeing if they measured up… and one more set of eyes, belonging to the man who had defeated both Chad and Alice. Neither Vince nor Shane ever said the secret advantage to fighting like this, because they didn’t need to. It was understood from the beginning why this method was the best way to determine which of them would advance.
This was the only way to fight in which neither one showed off any more of their power than they already had. It didn’t give Conrad a scrap more to work with. Both men were fighting for victory, and both were giving their all to grasp it, but they were still students of Lander. They knew what it meant to achieve victory for a team over glory for themselves.
Vince landed a half-blocked strike against Shane’s ribs, which he paid back with a knee to Vince’s hip. The two backed off slightly, adjusting their stances and evaluating the other. Yes, they were going to do this the mundane way, with every power except Vince’s glow off the table. Yes, they both wanted Lander as a whole to win, and to pay back Conrad for the way he’d bested Chad and Alice. But they still had to fight to see who would get the honor of trying to take Lander all the way, and neither one was going to yield that easily.
With a quick change to his footing, Shane darted in, feinting another blow for the ribs then launching a jab for Vince’s jaw. Vince jerked away, not quite fast enough to keep Shane’s knuckles from grazing his cheek. The message was clear: the time for testing had passed. Now they fought with all they had to see which one would be left standing.
285.
“Is this… good?” Chad wasn’t used to feeling uncertain. It was a sensation that didn’t hang on him well. But after easing his control of his brain to fully experience his defeat, there were going to be unusual sensations until everything was recalibrated. They weren’t all bad: Angela’s unexpected appearance and kiss had nearly bowled him over with the surge of joy. Still, not being able to view a situation with forced objectivity was leaving him feeling less than steady.
Fortunately, Angela was experiencing no such shadows of doubt. “Our grandfather used to say that fundamentals are always good. In fact, I bet he’s giving that line to the Heroes around him right now. Nobody should rely completely on their powers. Brains, brawn, stealth, tricks, traps, whatever you’ve got, bring it to the table. There are going to be situations where your power doesn’t work, or you can’t use it for one reason or another, so it’s important to have other skills to fall back on. Me, I focused on hand-to-hand and speed-chugging, both of which have served me well in the field.”
Alice’s eyes bored into Angela, taking in everything about her expression. “Nice to know the Hero life hasn’t changed you. Also, I apparently still can’t tell when you’re being serious and when you’re screwing around.”
“Maybe it’s both,” Angela countered. “Besides, why would Hero life change me? I knew what I was signing up for long before I ever set foot on this campus. So did Shane, for that matter. That’s why he’s going to win this thing. He’s got the training, the knowledge, and the perspective. Vince is a nice dude, but my little brother is a force to be reckoned with.”
Just as Alice was about to stick up for Vince, Nick stepped in closer, eyes never leaving the screen. “You’re right on that account. In terms of how well they’ve been prepared for the Hero world, Shane is ahead by leaps and bounds. But here’s the issue with that: they aren’t getting quizzed on what to do when criminals split off in three different directions out of a blind alley. They’re fighting. Pure, simple combat. Shane is a tough bastard who I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of, and he’s got a lot to prove. Trouble is, so does Vince. I’m sure somewhere in that head of his he’s scared that if he doesn’t put on a good showing then that Globe stuff will get in the way of graduation. That means Vince is going to fight as hard as he can within these limitations, and a determined Vince is never something to underestimate.”
“So you think yours will win?” Angela asked.
Nick didn’t give any kind of physical response, as he was still enraptured by the battle on the screen. Even his words were slightly delayed as he took in the action. “I don’t know for sure. This far along, fighting against a friend, it’s impossible to say with certainty who is going to pull this one off. It’s a gamble no matter how you look at it. But I do know one thing, a small tidbit of wisdom I’ve picked up over the years that’s served me well. I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it many times again in the year to come.” The barest hint of laughter danced in Nick’s eyes as he saw Vince counter a punch from Shane and go on the offensive.
“When in doubt, I always bet on silver.”
* * *
Beating the shit out of one another was, to no one’s surprise, taking something of a toll on both combatants. Truth be told, they’d both scored enough hits to bring down lesser opponents. If they’d fought like this in freshman year, they’d both have already collapsed. In the four years of training, however, they’d grown in strength and skill. And so it was that both young men were still on their feet, albeit with plenty of bruises to show for the trouble.
Still, the fight was wearing them down, and both were growing sloppier in their movements. Shane threw a punch that was a hair too telegraphed, which Vince snared and tried to turn into a throw. Unfortunately, he was slow in the rotation, and Shane had enough time to kick one of Vince’s legs from behind, ruining Vince’s stance while giving Shane a chance to slip free. They backed away from each other again, searching for openings.
In an unexpected way, Vince was enjoying this. It had been a long time since he had a real, proper fight outside of a sparring session. HCP battles these days all came down to powers and tactics, working as a team to suppress an enemy while keeping as many civilians as possible safe. This, on the other hand, was a return to basics for Vince. This was how it had been before he’d been able to control his abilities, when the idea of even being a Super was laughable, let alone a Hero. Back when all he’d had was his own body and the strength with which he moved it.
Shane attacked again, because that was what he did. In the time since they’d last fought like this, Vince had forgotten how aggressive Shane’s technique was. It made sense: the grandson of Captain Starlight was always chasing after someone, always fighting to prove he could live up to the burden of his heritage. Offense would be his natural default setting, even when defense might serve him slightly better.
Jerking his neck, Vince avoided a punch aimed at his head, nimbly twisting to the side to dodge the second jab Shane had hoped would catch him by surprise. Stepping in, Vince sank a fist deep into Shane’s momentarily unguarded stomach. The blow caused Shane to step back but didn’t slow him down. In no time he was swinging for Vince, who’d quickly moved away. Vince didn’t stay that way for long, however. Through most the whole fight, Shane had taken the initiative, and Vince had let him. It made the moments when Vince decided to attack slightly surprising, and against Shane, any advantage Vince could get was worth taking.
Coming in low, Vince aimed a feint for Shane’s stomach. As Shane moved to block it, a moment of inspiration struck Vince. On impulse, he threw out his original plan to capture and lock Shane’s elbow. Instead, he stepped in closer, creating more openings than he should have, and slammed a shoulder into Shane’s sternum. It was the sort of attack that Shane could have easily blocked, except that he was al
ready moving to counter the joint-lock that Vince had abandoned. The blow knocked Shane off balance, and Vince didn’t waste the opportunity. In the instant his opponent was distracted, Vince slammed his foot into Shane’s knee, far harder than he would have dared if they didn’t have healers immediately nearby. Even trying to take it easy, he still heard a few telltale pops as Shane fell hard to the ground, struggling to get back up only to find that his leg would no longer bear weight.
“Why… why did I fall for that?” Shane kept trying to stand, wincing every time his knee betrayed him.
“Chad likes to go for locks and submissions. I may not have gotten a proper match with him, but I’ve seen Chad fight in Close Combat class plenty of times. Since you spar almost exclusively with him, I realized you might have gotten into the habit of instinctively blocking those kinds of attacks.”
“Damnit. Undone by my own training. That hurts worse than my knee.” Shane tried to rise again, and quickly crumpled. “Never mind, scratch that, the knee hurts way more.”
“Look at it this way: you got into a habit because you were chasing Chad and Angela all these years. But I’ve been chasing all of you. A wider perspective is what you get from starting near the back of the crowd in a race. Imagine how much we’ll both see, and learn, if we make it all the way to being Heroes. That’s a whole new race, with people miles out ahead of us. In a few years, we could have a rematch that puts both of our efforts in this one to shame.”
Finally giving up on trying to stand, Shane turned his gaze upward to meet Vince’s eyes. “That’s all well and good for the future, but you understand what winning here means, right? We saw what Conrad could do against Alice, do you think you’re going to be able to beat that?”