Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  “I have no clue. I’ve got a few ideas I can try, but they may not work. Victory is never certain for me, and I won’t pretend today is somehow different.” Vince knelt down, making it easier to look right at Shane. “All I can promise is that I’ll give it everything I’ve got. This is our school, our class, and even if I can’t win, I’ll make sure they don’t forget the Class of Nightmares.”

  There were a few moments of hesitation, and then Shane lowered his head. “My knee is toast, and hopping on one foot won’t win this fight. I concede, Vince. You win.”

  Instantly, the speakers crackled to life. “That’s right folks, you heard it yourselves. Shane DeSoto has given up, making Vince Reynolds the final man standing for Lander. Both of you head off to go get some healing, and Vince, don’t bother coming back to the viewing room. The final match of Intramurals starts soon.”

  286.

  There was no warning before they broke into the lab. No subtle signs or arrows pointed the way; there wasn’t even a dated poster urging everyone to keep their safety glasses on during experiments. One moment they were in yet another metal hallway, and then they were through, stepping into an open area filled with computers, desks, and medical equipment.

  Wordlessly, George went right for the computer, while Joan started tearing through the desks, reading files. Adam, still in Quentin’s form, followed Joan’s lead, albeit at a much slower pace, while Persephone began looking over the lab’s supplies. Raze tapped Globe gently, pointing to a door on the other side of the room. It was heavily reinforced, stronger than anything they’d encountered so far. With a thought, Globe locked it down, as well as the one they’d come through, making sure nothing else entered the lab. They would have to breach the door eventually, that much was obvious, but not until they were ready.

  “God… they really did use Intra for this.” Joan’s face had gone pale as she stared into a manila folder, perusing the contents. “I won’t show you, but there are pictures. Photos of his body, his brain… This is…”

  “More of the same on here,” George called. “I’m punching through the security as fast as I can. It’s decent, but not HCP-level, and definitely not designed to keep out an amped-up robot. Should be able to have it on a flash drive shortly.”

  Globe heard and processed the words, his attention still on scanning the room for potential threats. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that this place would be connected to the internet. And this far underground, I’m sure cellular options are out. Shims, can you pop a portal? I have a hunch this next part is going to be even harder, and I’d like to know we got the truth out there, just in case.”

  “I’ve tried a few times already, no luck. Charles must have teleporters here acting as anchors. Probably a lot of them, and almost certainly enhanced, given what we’ve seen already. Even with the extra power from Quentin, I can’t punch through that many working against me.”

  Not great news, but about what Globe had expected. Charles Adair was a smart man, one with ample resources and time to plan. Keeping enemies from teleporting away was likely among the first things he’d considered, especially since he knew Globe didn’t understand spatial movement enough to counteract it. Such was the issue with working against former teammates. Unfortunately, it put them at a crossroads.

  Beyond that reinforced door, Globe knew he was likely to find the human subjects: Shelby without a doubt, maybe others who’d gotten less-functional versions of the procedure. Perhaps even Intra’s remains, if they were still being preserved. He had to press on. Leaving people behind wasn’t an option, but he also couldn’t afford to risk everything they’d worked so hard for. If they had proof, then it needed to leave this place. Even if Globe didn’t.

  “When the download is finished, all of you retreat. Raze, start smashing your way through walls if you have to. Get far enough away that Shims can open a portal, and bring that data to someone we trust. Go to Lander, take it to Blaine or Graham DeSoto if you can reach them, Sean Pendleton if you can’t. Even if Charles wants to follow, he can’t risk storming the campus with all eyes of the DVA on it.”

  “And what will you be doing while we run away?” Raze asked.

  Globe pointed to the door looming at the end of the room. “Securing the innocents. Or finding their remains. I can’t abandon them, but they also don’t take a higher priority than bringing the truth to light. This way, we get to do both.”

  “Good plan, shitty execution.” Clarissa walked over to Joan, who was skimming a new stack of files. “Given that you’re amplified, do you think you’re strong enough to carry me?”

  “Not at top speed,” Joan replied. “Should be doable though, and with all that extra power my mid-speed is still damn fast.”

  “Then once George finishes, you take me out of here. By now they’ve probably cleared all the doors we sealed, so hopefully it will be a straight shot. We get far enough away for me to pop a portal, then drop off the information at Lander. The rest of the team stays with our fearless leader to make sure he gets any innocent people back to the top, and himself along with them.” Clarissa paused, looking to the others. “Any arguments?”

  Hesitantly, Globe started to speak. “It puts more of us at risk than–”

  “Not you; we already know you’ll go for the self-sacrifice move if we give you a chance,” Clarissa snapped. “I meant from the rest of the team.”

  “We’re fine.” Persephone was looking through the medical equipment now, searching for tools that might come in handy in the next fight. “We knew what we were signing up for when we followed Globe down here.”

  “I can’t ask the rest of you to stay for this, not when we’ve already gotten so much of what we came for,” Globe protested.

  Clarissa made her way over and laid a firm hand on his arm. “What did I say last night? I understand that the mission comes first, and that’s what we’re prioritizing. Data is just numbers and files on a computer. Charles will fight it, and he’s got the lawyers to potentially win. We need proof: victims, faces, remains. We need to show the world what was happening in this lab. Yes, it’s smart for Joan and me to ensure some of this makes it out, but the job isn’t done. Let the team do what they came here for and see it through to the end.”

  A long moment passed between them, but eventually Globe tilted his head forward in a nod. “I suppose you’re right, as usual. At least you’ll be safely out of here. That’s something.”

  “Please, you think I’m not coming back as soon as that data is in safe hands? With Joan’s speed, we’ll catch up to you in no time. Faster if I can find those anchors and take them out.”

  “Both of you had better hurry then.” It was always disturbing to hear the mature tones of Adam in Quentin’s voice, but it was an experience they’d all grown used to. “Getting here took a while, since we couldn’t rip through everything without risking the roof coming down. My guess is that the last of us have about twenty minutes left on the enhanced charges, so maybe take Joan for a top-off from Quentin on the way back.”

  “Whatever you want to do, I’d suggest getting in gear.” At the computer, George was pulling out a jump drive from a USB port. “It’s done. This has everything from their files: decades of research and experimentation, all right there for anyone to see.” He held it out and Clarissa accepted, tucking the jump drive away carefully. “Get that out of here, no matter what. If you do, then maybe all of this was worth something after all.”

  “We will,” Clarissa promised. “And then we’ll be back, right Joan?”

  “So fast it won’t even seem like we were gone.” Joan didn’t waste a moment, scooping Clarissa up in her arms and taking a position to sprint as soon as the path was clear. “Globe, if you’d open our exit, please.”

  Globe’s hand raised, pointing at the last door they’d come through. Just before he forced it to open, however, he gave Clarissa one last glance. “Be cautious, please. I would really like to avoid attending another funeral, if possible. Especially yours.�
��

  “Of course. When one thinks of Heroes, safety and discretion are the first things that come to mind.” Clarissa flashed him a smile, wild and full of life, the sort of grin she hadn’t worn since her Hero days. It was a sight Globe never thought he’d see again, and it was gone too soon as Joan zipped out of the room, Clarissa clutched tightly in her arms.

  With those two gone, Globe turned his attention to the reinforced door barring the way and looked around to his team. “I hope everyone is ready, because Charles will have put the best he has guarding Shelby. Let’s go show them why we’re better.”

  287.

  One fight left. One more match, and it was over. Win or lose, this was going to be Vince’s last chance as a student to show the Hero world at large what he was made of. There were sure to be more tests to come, probably a big one to make the cut for graduation, but those would be smaller venues. Today, he had the eyes of Heroes upon him. This was where he proved he had what it took to join them, no matter what the DVA thought about his father. Intense as that pressure was, it was made even worse by the knowledge that it wasn’t just his victory on the line. Vince was the last man standing for Lander. If he didn’t find a way to win, the whole school lost. Sure, they’d already put on a strong showing, but Vince couldn’t bear the thought of Lander falling short because he wasn’t strong enough to carry them across the finish line.

  “Knock knock.”

  The voice came from the open door of Vince’s prep room, an area he’d been actively ignoring. No one ever showed up there except when it was time to lead him off to the next match, so it should have been shocking to see Nick Campbell leaning against the frame, waiting for Vince to realize he had company. However, since it was Nick, Vince was only mildly surprised by the sudden appearance. Nick had a habit of making impossible tasks seem outright mundane.

  “Did you sneak down here?” Not the warmest of greetings, but Vince had to figure out whether people were about to storm down and drag Nick off before the conversation went further.

  That question drew a laugh from Nick, who stepped fully into the room. “I might have, if I thought it was necessary. Didn’t need to, though. Turns out it’s customary for the students to receive pre-fight pep talk before their last match. Just encouragement, no advice, the Heroes were very clear on that front. Everything down here is monitored anyway, so it’s not like I could slip you secret info even if I had some to share.”

  “That seems more like a job for Dean Blaine than a friend who was expelled,” Vince pointed out.

  “And he no doubt would be here if I weren’t, but I convinced him to let me handle this one. The guy understands his students better than most people realize, and part of that means knowing how to best help them. In this case, that meant using me.” Nick sauntered over, hopping into a chair next to the counter Vince was perched on and pulling out the deck of cards he’d been shuffling all day, automatically moving them through his hands. “So, worked yourself into a complete mess yet, or did I come too early?”

  There was a moment where Vince considered denying the blatant truth, though he quickly dismissed such a senseless notion. He had zero chance of fooling Nick, and even if he could, what did that gain Vince? The illusion of pretending such high-stakes situations didn’t make him nervous? That was a silly thing to choose over a friend’s help.

  “Hard to say. I’ve been feeling the pressure all day, but this last one… Conrad beat Chad. And Alice. Two of our strongest people, who I’m not sure I could defeat. I get that no one out there sincerely expects me to win, not when our top people failed. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll be letting everyone down if I don’t somehow find a way to come out on top.”

  “About where I figured you’d be,” Nick said. “That’s the reason I came down here. I know how you get all bunched up in your head. Don’t use too much power, don’t come off as too aggressive, don’t let anyone watching feel too afraid. Just about the only time you let loose is when people are counting on you, and then you risk overcorrecting and coming out way too strong. Well good news, Vince. I came down with a message that will take all that worry and pressure right off your shoulders.”

  Vince watched as Nick rose from his chair, setting down the deck of cards and standing right in front of Vince so the two were eye-to-eye. “That sounds too good to be true.”

  “It’s not. It’s the simplest thing in the world, you just haven’t realized it yet.” Nick leaned in slightly, shifting his voice to a stage whisper. “Vince, the big secret to why you don’t need to feel so stressed out is… none of this matters.”

  The reply sprang to Vince’s lips before he had time to consider it, which was why a simple “Huh?” slid out of his mouth rather than a more targeted request for explanation. Luckily, Nick still got the message.

  “It’s just a school contest. A big one, sure, maybe on par with a bowl game at the end of football season, but nothing more than that. You’re fighting for pride and bragging rights. Not your future. Not the soul of Lander. None of that crap.”

  “Nick, we’ve both seen how many Heroes are up there–”

  “Oh yes, there’s a crowd, no doubt about that.” Now that Nick was on a roll, he didn’t seem willing to let Vince take them off track. “A crowd who has seen you put on a great three matches. A crowd who will trust Dean Blaine when he tells them what kind of man you are, and what kind of Hero he expects you to be. A crowd including Graham DeSoto, new head of the DVA, who sure seems to have reined people in on putting the screws to you. Look, I’m not saying you could go out there and try to murder Conrad without facing consequences, but losing this fight won’t fundamentally change anything about your life. You’ll have a bad day, and our class will be bummed for an afternoon. That’s it. That’s all you’re fighting for.”

  Silence fell between the two as Vince considered Nick’s words. Was he right? Had all the pressure been in Vince’s own mind? No, the class was still counting on him, even Nick had admitted that pride was on the line. But compared to fights where he had to prove he belonged or the life and death ordeal of last May, fighting for bragging rights didn’t seem nearly so dire.

  “This feels like the opposite of what a pep talk should be. Aren’t you supposed to be riling me up? Talking me into leaving it all out on the floor, fighting like there’s no tomorrow, all those clichés?”

  “Shit no. Maybe that’s what most people need, but not you. Nothing puts more pressure on Vince Reynolds than his own unshakeable sense of responsibility. You always fight the hardest for other people. Save the innocents, protect your friends, that kind of thing. And that worked for a while, when you were still figuring yourself out. It’s been four years though, four years that you’ve used to improve in a lot of ways. All that therapy you undertook was part of it. I think you know yourself quite well by this point. What you want. What you can do. What you’re willing to do. Today, it’s time to fight with a clear head. No massive stakes, no people depending on you to keep them safe. Just Vince Reynolds, having a match with some dick trying to show up his school. That’s all. So, knowing that nothing really changes whether you win or lose, what do you want to do?”

  Vince tried to imagine what it would feel like to lose if Nick was right, if the fight really had no consequences. His friends would be sad, but they wouldn’t blame him for Lander’s loss just like he hadn’t blamed Chad or Alice. No one questioned that those two tried their best; if there was one thing Hero training had drilled into all of them, it was that everyone lost sometimes. That was why people agreed no Super was invincible. Beyond the initial loss, his class would be disappointed. Again, though, would they really have expected Vince to win when Alice and Chad fell short? The Heroes watching probably wouldn’t think much less of Vince; there was only one Intramurals champion, the rest had to lose by design. As for the DVA, they likely cared more about Vince not burning down the HCP than how he did in the fights.

  It was odd. The more Vince thought about it, the more he real
ized that Nick was right: ultimately this match didn’t matter. But clearing all the anxiety away revealed another truth, one that not even Nick had brought up. Now that there was no more pressure, Vince realized this match did matter to at least one person: him. Even if it was for nothing more than pride, Vince had a tremendous amount of pride to fight for where Lander was concerned. It was his first real home, the place where he’d met the biggest family he ever had, the school that had taken him in and stuck up for him even when the Globe controversy came to light. Maybe Conrad would win, and that would be okay in the long run. But no one would forget that Lander had made it to the final match as well, Vince would make damn certain of that.

  “I want to win.” Vince looked up at Nick, his mind already set in determination, to find a knowing grin looking back at him.

  “Had a feeling that’s what you’d say.” With that, Nick turned and started for the door. “I should head out, they’ll be coming to get you in no time. Just remember, no matter how crazy things get: none of this matters. Not unless you want it to.”

  “Thanks.” Vince set his hand down on the counter, finding his fingers resting on a strange object. A quick glance showed him the stack of playing cards were still there, just where Nick had left them. “Hey, you forgot your cards.”

  Nick paused his exit, fixing Vince with a piercing glance. “No, I didn’t. They’re a good luck present. Just normal playing cards, mind you; I even had to get them checked before coming down here. We can’t give you any kind of tangible help, be it equipment or advice. So it’s just a stack of cards to help you remember that everyone is cheering for you. Fitting, too… with all the others knocked out of the tournament, maybe that makes you the King card of the class, if only for Intramurals.”

  Nick was gone before Vince could ask any follow-up questions, the stack of cards the only evidence that he’d ever been there at all. That, and the fact that Vince felt worlds better than he had moments ago. It was hard to say why a pep talk telling him that nothing mattered had worked so well, but Vince didn’t care to question it.