Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  This time, it was Dean Blaine who paused, considering the question carefully as he chose his reply. “What someone deserves is irrelevant. I’ve seen criminals skate the system for decades with no comeuppance and good people die far before they should have. The world doesn’t care what you deserve; it cares what you can do. Alice, Shane, even Chad, they can’t beat every opponent. And neither can you, for that matter. Today proved that point better than words ever will. There will be enemies you aren’t capable of defeating, Vince. But that’s why Heroes work in teams. From an individual perspective, yes, today we had three losses. If you look at it as Team Lander, on the other hand, we had one member of the group overcome a Super whose ability made him nearly unbeatable for the others.”

  “We’re not a team though, not officially,” Vince pointed out.

  “Not in terms of who is the victor, but you did all still bring home a win for Lander. While I grant you that’s nothing more than a matter of pride, it’s not as though pride is unimportant. I, for example, take great pride in this school. It’s why I’ve worked so hard to run it all these years, and why I care so deeply for the quality of Heroes we send to the world. And given what you said in that cell, it seems as though you have ample pride in Lander too.”

  Vince glanced away, hoping his face didn’t betray his embarrassment by blushing. In the heat of a fight, when he felt like he was alone with his opponent, it was easy to say those sorts of things. He’d almost completely forgotten that the viewing crowd could hear every word he uttered.

  “And there is another matter this impacts too,” Dean Blaine continued, gracefully ignoring Vince’s sudden discomfort. “Vince, you just won Intramurals. A former Powered defeated the best every other HCP could send, and there certainly won’t be anyone claiming that you went up against an easy opponent. You and I know it’s more complex than that – different powers in the tournament could have yielded wholly different results – but the rest of the world will only remember the outcome. Sooner or later, and my money is on sooner, your secret procedure won’t be much of a secret anymore. Rumors have already spread through the Hero community, for those who don’t already know outright, and hard as the DVA works to squash those whispers from seeping online, it’s a losing battle. You need to start giving some thought as to how you want to greet the world after graduation.”

  “Yeah, I know, I need to pick a name.” Vince had really expected at least one other person to still be floundering on that front during Intramurals; the fact that he’d been the only one nameless made it obvious that he had to get on the ball with that, and soon.

  Dean Blaine stared at him, then shook his head. “No, Vince. Let me be clear: barring any major errors in the next few weeks, you are fully expected to graduate. What I mean is that you need to decide if you’ll greet the country as just another Hero, or as one of the world’s first former Powereds to earn the title. Telling everyone upfront is going to make things much harder on you out of the gate, however, if the secret breaks and you’re named as one of the test subjects then you risk losing any trust built with the public.”

  “That… feels like something I should discuss with my mentor,” Vince said. “It wouldn’t be right to put that kind of scrutiny on Jeremiah without making sure he was okay with it. Probably worth talking over with Lenny too; he made it sound like he had a plan for telling people about us.”

  “Both very good inclinations, and ones you should follow. I am by no means advocating you make this decision right here and now. My intent is to ensure that you’re aware of the choice and thinking it through. The others will make their own decisions in time, but for you there will be more pressure and expectation, at least from other Heroes. You won Intramurals. In every generation of HCP classes, only one student gets to make that claim. It’s the kind of accomplishment that draws attention.”

  For a fleeting moment, Vince wondered if he should have lost that last round. He dismissed the idea almost immediately. It was nonsense. When the news that Powereds could become Supers broke, who won a tournament wasn’t going to be high on anyone’s list of concerns. All he’d done was show that his kind could hang with the natural Supers. That might be important, somewhere down the line. Maybe he could give a sliver of hope to some other Powered kid wandering the streets, dreaming of being a Hero against all odds. If that was true, then no amount of attention or scrutiny was going to make Vince sorry that he’d won. In fact, even the idea of that image set his determination. Unless Lenny or Jeremiah had a good reason not to, Vince would come out of the gate as a former Powered made Hero. Humans and Supers already had plenty of their own examples to look toward; Powereds were long overdue for a few as well.

  “I’ll have to make sure I point that attention in good directions.” Vince turned his head back to Dean Blaine, the last vestiges of his embarrassment now fully faded.

  “Of that, Vince, I have no doubt. I would never ask a student to shoulder the kind of burden you’re going to bear, but if someone had to take it, you’re one of the few I would trust to handle such a task.” Dean Blaine got up, and Vince followed his lead. “Now, let’s get back upstairs. I’ve got visitors to deal with, and you have a crowd waiting to cheer for you. Unless you’d like to go see Ms. Belden alone for a few moments first; from the look in her eyes she seemed quite intent on chatting with you.”

  “I’m sure we’ll see her upstairs now that all the healing is done.” Vince nearly stampeded over his own words in the rush to get them out, and even he could see Dean Blaine barely suppressing a smirk. He definitely knew Vince was going to get an earful for all that damage.

  “Well then, let’s not keep her, or any of them, waiting on Lander’s Intramurals champion.”

  295.

  The golden lines wove through the air, the space, the world around him. It was strange; even though he’d only had this power for brief intervals, Nick could still see them when he looked through his memories. The paths of chance, fate, destiny, probability, whatever mythology one wanted to ascribe to the machinations of fortune. Lines that had led him to Lander, to Vince, to Alice, to his friends, to his expulsion, to his return: all of it was there, easy to see and trace. Even the one he’d been unconsciously following all the way to this very moment. Part of him wondered if he’d be able to remember this properly when the amplification passed. It was a small part, though, barely audible over the crashing waves of possibility roaring in his ears. The power was intoxicating, yet he could still see its limits. Nothing existed in isolation. For every change he invoked, every probability he shifted, there would be ripples outward. It wasn’t as simple as shaping the future to his will; rather it was like sorting through a massive puzzle. Every action, each selection locked into place, impacted the pieces around it, often in terrible, deadly ways.

  Quentin was panting slightly, the last of the purple energy vanishing from him as it coursed into Nick. Finally done, he pulled his hand away and looked up, letting out a sharp gasp seconds later and quickly backing away. “Your eyes… what happened to them?”

  This was why Nick had taken great pains to keep his night-vision goggles on last time. A single glance in a mirror made it obvious why most people would be unsettled by his current appearance. Unlike when Nick normally activated his power, it wasn’t just his irises that were glowing gold. His entire eyeballs were blazing with the light, yes, but that was only a small part of it. To stare into them was to see bits and pieces of what he was controlling, shadows of an unseen fundamental force within the universe. A mortal mind wasn’t made to fathom such concepts. Perhaps that was why Nick’s memory turned so terrible when the amplification was over; not even a brain like his could handle properly recalling this experience.

  Reaching into his pocket, Nick produced a pair of sunglasses and slipped them smoothly onto his face, pausing to give Quentin a quick smile. “It’s fine. My eyes always change when I use my power. You did a great job, kid.” Nick looked again at the golden lines, seeing all the possibilities of the da
y stretched out in the time still to come. “I think you just saved a lot of lives, maybe even the whole world. Although that’s well past the distance I can make out, so take it as optimism more than anything else.”

  “Let’s hope so. That’s the last Mobius enhancement we’re going to be able to manage. Adam should still be in Quentin’s form and able to pass his on to one of the others, but it’s a world of difference between this charge and what he can manage on his own after it’s spent.” Shimmerpath was watching him carefully, and in turn Nick paid her a greater amount of attention. She had an interesting path ahead, plenty of room for twists in the road and lucky breaks. If she could make it through the rough patch directly in front of her, that was.

  “Then I suppose the first order of business is to make sure we don’t come up short in the arms race.” Nick rolled his shoulders twice and cracked his neck, forcing himself to loosen up after the effort of hiding the tremendous pain from Quentin’s enhancement. It was a distant memory now, but his body knew it had suffered and wanted to stay tense. That wasn’t permissible just yet, however. Nick needed to be clear-headed and focused. There was a lot to do and relatively little time to work with. “Someone grab me a glass of water. By the time you get back I should have the first part in motion.”

  Adjusting his glasses slightly, Nick shifted his attention to the paths of probability elsewhere in the world. Specifically, over a school in California where loads of Heroes and the best fighters every HCP in the country had to offer were gathered. Probability was well and good, but in Nick’s experience conflict often came down to a simple game of numbers.

  * * *

  In the moment, it seemed like nothing more than chance. With Dean Blaine off to meet Graham DeSoto, Victor was escorting everyone from the viewing room through the HCP halls to a special banquet. It was a post-Intramurals tradition, a time for all the competitors to eat, talk, and connect with one another in ways other than fighting. They would chat with the Heroes, perhaps getting advice on their missteps or locking down prestigious internships. The mood of the crowd was relaxed, and why wouldn’t it be? Intramurals was over, the fighting done, and nothing had been permanently injured except for a few students’ pride, and even that would eventually heal. Looking back, it would seem so obvious that there had been interference, especially with Ralph Chapman scanning the area for Nick constantly, muttering under his breath. However, in that moment, with no idea what was going on or what had happened to the man with the power of luck, it was forgivable that most perceived the incident as coincidental.

  Vince and Alice were near the front of the crowd, with Angela, Shane, and Chad nested more deeply in the center. Thanks to a sudden break in the mass of people, though, all of them could see Mr. Numbers running down the hall only seconds before Mr. Transport turned a corner and the two nearly collided, saved only by Mr. Numbers’ speedy reflexes. Without taking a second to pause, Mr. Numbers grabbed Mr. Transport by the arm and began to quickly lead him away from the crowd.

  “I guess they don’t know Lander won yet,” Vince said. “Mr. Transport is usually big on encouragement, I think he would have congratulated us.”

  “He must know. Why be down here if he wasn’t waiting for results?” Alice’s eyes narrowed as this new development added fuel to the fire of her already burning suspicions. “And why did the head of the DVA feel the sudden need to call a meeting of the deans? You didn’t see it, but the DVA agents came storming in like something was on fire.”

  “Hero work does come with unexpected emergencies,” Vince reminded her.

  “Yeah, but it happened literally seconds after Nick offered a half-assed excuse and slipped out of the room.” Alice shot Vince a look from the side of her eyes. “Think that’s not related?”

  “It could be.” Even Vince couldn’t hold on to such a delusion for more than a few seconds. “But it probably isn’t. Do you think Nick is in trouble?”

  A long, tired sigh escaped Alice’s lips. “Almost always. I doubt he’s made enough of a splash to get the DVA that flustered, though. This feels different. Bigger. Like something huge is going down.”

  Neither said it, but both had the same question on their mind. Had it finally happened? Had the stalemate broken at last? The odds were slim; there were any number of potential situations where the DVA might suddenly need Graham’s leadership. Still, it was the sort of idea that was impossible to shake once it had taken hold.

  “Let’s go see what’s so important.” Without breaking stride, Alice turned to the nearest, tallest, authority figure she knew. Her voice was raised slightly, just loud enough for others to hear so they wouldn’t be suspicious about her and Vince leaving the group. “Hey Titan, we’re going to break off for a few minutes and swing by the gym. Roy and Hershel will both kill us if we don’t tell them the good news in person.” Without waiting for permission, Alice dragged Vince off down a hall before anyone could object. It was a simple, quick charade that passed by fast enough to fool most of the people there.

  Most, but not all.

  296.

  “So far, satellite images we’ve gotten only show a sizable compound that has taken significant damage. However, we’ve since learned that this building is merely the front door for a much larger subterranean structure. What appears to be a team of mercenary troops has recently gone in through that building and yet to emerge, so we must assume the conflict is ongoing. We’ve got no idea how big the underground area we’re looking at is, but our best analysts believe it goes deep and could be comparable to an entire HCP campus.” Graham stood in the middle of the teleconference room usually filled with holograms, Casper at his side, bringing up satellite pictures of the location as he spoke.

  “That’s impossible,” Dean Jackson said, almost reflexively. “Building an underground complex like this takes millions of dollars – probably billions these days – not to mention all the specifically-abled Supers you’d need to make it structurally sound. No single person could create something like that, especially without us knowing.”

  “They could if they were patient, determined, and had the ability to produce nearly unlimited wealth.” Dean Blaine didn’t come out and say the name, not yet. This was Graham’s show to run; Blaine was only here as a participant. He’d tried to reach Professor Pendleton as soon as he got the summons, but Sean had apparently left campus. When Professor Baker gave Dean Blaine the report, he’d initially been confused. Now, knowing that Sean had absconded, he was bordering on furious. Sean had found out about this and gone off to join, which was reckless, but far worse was that he hadn’t told Blaine anything about it. It was always his greatest weakness as a Hero: Sean Pendleton had a bad habit of running to fights on his own without communicating to his team. This time, that tendency could cost him his freedom, if not his life.

  Dean Fox leaned forward, smoothing his mustache as he looked at the photos. “That’s a very specific set of criteria, Blaine. I can think of a few Supers world-wide who might be able to fulfill those requirements, but only one is a US citizen and has enough clout to pull this off. It doesn’t fit, though. Why would Charles Adair build a secret underground complex in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Never trust the rich. The more power they have, the less they feel inclined to play by anyone else’s rules.” Dean Silva was calm as usual, small flowers blooming along the braids of her hair. “However, I will concede, I can’t come up with a reason he would make such a place either. Perhaps we’ve got some international enemies trying to set up shop on our soil.”

  “Currently, all we know for certain is that the land is owned by some corporation that, as far as our people can tell, seems to be little more than a shell.” Graham retook control of the meeting, his gaze lingering on Dean Blaine briefly. “As far as the attacker, on that front we have more information. While not every member of the group has been identified yet, accounts from a guard we picked up running through the forest and my DVA scouts confirm who is leading the assault: Globe.”

>   There was a squeak of a chair as Casper jerked backward in surprise, eyes going wide. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that. Spent so long thinking he was dead, I still get surprised he turns up. It definitely rules out Charles as the owner, at least. Globe wouldn’t attack him.”

  “He killed his best friend, what makes you think Charles is off limits?” Dean Bishop asked.

  Casper and Dean Blaine exchanged a brief glance before Graham answered for them. “Enough. I understand the desire to protect the secrets of Heroes you trained with, and I respect it, but we are past the point of such niceties. As the head of the DVA, it’s my call to make this public, and I’m doing so now. Globe’s real name is Phillip Adair, he’s the older brother of Charles. And while it saddens me to say it, I’m afraid Charles Adair is almost certainly the man who owns this land. Come here, Blaine.”

  Dean Blaine did as he was instructed, rising from his seat and standing next to the world’s first Hero. He stayed silent, waiting as Graham surveyed the room. Despite being aged down, the weight of Graham’s years was still visible on his shoulders as he looked each dean, and Casper, in the eye. Finally, he spoke again, and this time it was with the gravity only Captain Starlight could command.

  “I’ve never done a desk job like this. In my day, it was simpler. Bad guys stood up, we knocked them down. The systems were new back then, no one had figured out how to game them. We all tried our best to make them incorruptible, but in recent years it’s become clear that we failed in that endeavor. For that, I owe you all an apology. However, old failures aside, the world still needs Heroes. I believe that with every ache in my bones and breath in my lungs. Maybe there’s a diplomatic, bureaucratic way to salvage this. If so, I’m not the kind of man who can see it. When this is over, if the world decides there’s blame to be had, I’ll take it. I’ve benefited for years from being perceived as the man who created Heroes, even though countless others helped make it happen. It’s only right that I own the faults in the system, and the people hurt by them.”