by Hayes, Drew
“Sound plan,” Titan agreed. “But if I can make one suggestion: even if the boys don’t have masks on, we are still in an active crime scene. It might make more sense to start using their code names, just to be as safe as possible.”
“I suppose that would be smarter, especially as we go deeper into this place. Very well then: from here on, you will be Ettin and Intra, respectively. Any objections to that?”
Chad solemnly shook his head while Roy let out a whoop of laughter. “Can’t say a single one hops to mind. My first day out as Ettin.” He paused, surveying the carnage around them. “Honestly, it’s about how I imagined it.”
* * *
The group was drawing close as Vince rapidly cycled through his options. A jump was no good: that just made him a floating target instead of a standing one. The orange energy was used up, and while he could try the kinetic defense he’d used against Conrad, that probably wouldn’t do much against energy, explosions, sonic… a lot of things. Making the whole area go dark was probably his best shot, but he’d be defenseless as he absorbed the light. One lucky shot is all it would take. If Vince was going to bet on anything, though, luck seemed a good choice. Maybe somewhere out there Nick was putting in a good word with Lady Fortune.
Just as Vince was about the draw in the light, he noticed something strange. All of the guards around him froze in place, not even breathing. Then, without a word or a gasp, they tumbled silently to the ground. Once they hit, their breathing resumed, which was both worrying and a relief. Vince swung his head around, trying to figure out what Hero had given him a hand. It was no one with a cape or mask. Instead, Vince found himself staring up at a floating platform overhead, into the familiar face of a man he thought he’d lost at the age of thirteen.
“Been a while,” Vince said.
“That’s the trouble with being famous. Everyone always wants a piece of you, and it gets hard to make time for the people who really matter.” Despite the flippant words, Globe’s teeth were gritted as he fended off more attacks coming at him from behind. Saving Vince had cost him in terms of focus and effort; his already weary body was showing signs of extreme fatigue. “Had to be there when it mattered at least once, though. And I wanted to say I’m sorry. For having to fake my death, for what being my son brought down upon your head, for having to stay away, all of it. I had to tell you that, face-to-face, while I still could. All of the horrible things that Chuck caused, the pain he created, the terrible direction he took my life in, you were the bright spot in that darkness. Whatever happens today, whatever comes out of this, with you as a Hero at least I know I’m leaving the world in good hands.”
Using a controlled jump, Vince leapt up onto the platform, landing only a few feet away from Globe’s shaking form. Carefully, Vince wrapped his arms around the hunched former Hero, shielding him with his body. “I’ll take everything kinetic. You handle the other stuff. There’s a healer over by the giant tree. If you can get us there, maybe we can get your stamina restored.”
“Hallow isn’t going to heal me. I’m a criminal. His job is to stop me, not lend a hand. Even if he believes I’m innocent, it’s his duty to take me into custody until that’s proven. Same for any Hero out here. They have to do what’s right by the law, and I won’t drag anyone else into my mess. It’s okay, Vince. This was always going to happen like this. Just jump down and get clear. I got to see you, to tell you how proud I am of the Hero you’ve become. That’s more than I deserved or ever dared hope for. Seeing you escape safely will be enough.”
More attacks were hitting the platform, Globe halting them before they drew close to either of them. He wasn’t going to bend on this, and Vince knew it. Globe was going to die on this platform. He’d probably planned it that way all along.
“Father, with all due respect, you’re trying to take the easy way out. And that’s not the kind of man you taught me to be. Heroes keep fighting, especially when it’s the hardest, because we have to. That’s what it means to take on that title, and the responsibility that comes with it.” Vince waited a few seconds longer until there was a lull in the attacks. Globe had just turned to look up at his son when Vince struck, a single surprise punch to the jaw. Hard as Globe was working to be aware of external threats, it never occurred to him to expect an attack from Vince. In his exhausted state, the hit knocked Globe out clean, sending him limply to the ground.
Wasting no time, Vince scooped him up and leapt away from the platform before the next volley of strikes hit.
If no Hero was going to help, then Vince would turn elsewhere. He knew she was here, knew as soon as he saw the wave of white uniforms washing over the battlefield that she’d be among them. She was always there, charging headlong into fights, one of the few people Vince had absolute faith and trust in. He just had to find her before everyone figured out where Globe had gone to.
All in all, though, it wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined introducing Camille to his father.
311.
The pain hit before Crispin ever saw his attacker. A pinch in his neck, and suddenly Crispin’s legs went out from under him. His body refused to cooperate. Slammed to the ground, he tried to force himself to stand, then to crawl, and finally to move at all. Nothing. It was like he’d been paralyzed with no warning or cause. Only when he saw the white boots and pants step into his field of view did Crispin put it together: one of the kids had found him, apparently one with the power to somehow steal control of someone’s body.
“I never thought it would be me. I had to come, had to, but in the back of my mind I never imagined I’d ever get the chance to lay a hand on you. Not with so many others who are so damn strong burning to bring you down.”
Movement, but not the boots. Crispin’s field of view was changing as he began to rise from the grass. This kid was lifting him up somehow; telekinesis seemed the likeliest explanation but didn’t account for the paralysis. From the look in this stranger’s eyes, the answer probably wouldn’t matter. Crispin had a feeling he very well might not live long enough to figure out the mystery.
“You don’t know me, I’m sure.” Pulling away the gray mask on his head, the student revealed a plain face and brown hair: no distinguishing Super features, or really anything remarkable. “I’m not someone who stands out very often, especially when I pal around with people who are inherently remarkable. It took me a while to get used to that – to go from being the lone Super in my town, the special one, to being just another person with abilities in a class full of those with better powers. I’m not the guy who stayed at the top of the class for years, or the woman with a mind for subtlety and a power that could bring even the mightiest to their knees, or even the son of a famed villain burdened with tremendous power. I’m just some kid who thinks he’s a Jedi. A background figure. A knockoff. But there is one thing that sets me apart.”
Crispin was fully upright now, looking directly into those burning eyes. Naked hatred stared back at him, untainted and uncompromising. Given his past, it wasn’t the first time Crispin had seen that expression, although this was the first time he’d been completely helpless for the experience.
“What makes me different is very simple: I hate you more than any of the others. They all lost Sasha thanks to your attack, but I failed her. My weakness, my hesitation, that is why she had to protect me. I’m the reason Sasha died. And I’ve made a certain amount of peace with that. I’ve stopped trying to summon her force ghost, at least. No amount of peace will let me forgive you, though. Or myself. One thought, and I can sever the nerves I’m pinching. Maybe even take out a more important cluster and get rid of silly little things like breathing. There are no witnesses. No one paying attention. When this ends, no one will dig too deeply upon finding your corpse. They’ll just say a prayer of thanks that you’re gone. I can kill you right here and now, with no consequences.”
The young man was only inches away from Crispin’s face, near enough that he could feel the breath of his harsh words. His body still refused to
twitch below the neck; whatever nerves this guy was pinching, the grip wasn’t wavering. Crispin was well and truly helpless.
“I’ve got the means, the opportunity, and more motive than anyone could ask for.” Despite being so close, the student leaned in a few more inches, voice briefly morphing to a fierce whisper. “And I’m not going to do it. You understand that? We are better than you, Crispin. We only kill when we have to, and weak as I might be compared to the others, I still have more than enough strength to take you down alive. No matter what you’ve done, no matter how much I want it, I’m doing this the right way, because that’s what it means to be a Hero. To live up to the standard she set in front of me. You might be able to kill us when given a whole army to wield, but you can’t drag us down, make us worthless. Turn us into something like you.”
A wave of relief ran through Crispin’s veins. Another one of the noble sort, thank goodness. Back to jail then, under better guard no doubt. It would still only be a matter of time until someone needed him again. Perhaps it would be the very same government that held him, faced with a threat so dire they were willing to play ball to get an amplifier’s help. When one had such an asset, using it was inevitable. At conservative estimates, he could be free in as few as –
Crispin never heard the gunshot. The bullet had already torn through the side of his skull and let pieces of brain out to see the world. To Alex, it was almost like a magic trick. One minute he was staring at a defiant prisoner, the next he was levitating a corpse. Dropping the body, Alex spun around, ready to fight back against whoever was attacking. He’d been distracted, stupidly absorbed in his moment with Crispin, not paying enough attention to the thoughts and world around him. By the time Alex mentally located the source of the shot, the gunman was already stepping out from his hiding place among the trees.
“Nick? How the hell are you here?”
“A wonderful question, one that neither of us particularly has time to answer. I’m sure the others still need help. It’s a circus over there, and you’re more suited to Super combat than I.”
It was technically true, but not nearly enough to make Alex walk away from what had just happened. “Did you shoot him?”
“Expertly, if I do say so myself.” The gun was still in Nick’s hand, he wasn’t even trying to hide what he’d done.
“But… why? I had him. He was captured. Crispin was going back to jail, for good this time.”
One step at a time, being sure not to seem aggressive, Nick made his way over to look down at Crispin’s body. “I’m glad you believe that. And I’m proud of you for not killing him. Those are the sorts of things we should expect from Heroes: taking the high road, putting justice over revenge. Despite what you may think about yourself and your place in our class, Alex, I would wager you’re going to make an excellent Hero one day. You can trust me on that. I don’t gain anything by lying to you, so why would I waste the effort?”
“If you think all of that, then why did you just murder Crispin in cold blood?” Alex demanded.
At last, Nick turned from the cooling body, his sunglasses pointing directly at Alex. “Because unlike you, I am not a Hero. I’m not bound by the trust of society or the expectations of my peers. I’m the same thing I’ve always been: a bad man who looks after his own interests first and foremost. The thing is, my friends have become part of my interests, and this scum tried to take them away with that attack on Lander. Do you know what happens to people who try to steal from a child of Vegas?”
Nick didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he dropped to a squat and pressed the gun to the front of Crispin’s head. “Exactly what you just saw.” Another shot rang out, and then two more. “Just in case he’s got some amplified healer waiting in the wings. Never do things by half-measures, especially killing. A lesson from my aunt that I long ago took to heart.”
The strangest part of this was that despite probing as deep as he could, Alex couldn’t feel any of the emotions he was expecting in Nick. No anger, no hatred, not even worry or fear. This was entirely mundane to him, a simple task to be carried out, like throwing trash in a dumpster. For the first time, he really understood why the HCP had kicked Nick out so readily when all he’d done was help a friend. It wasn’t that action alone; it was the readiness and ease with which Nick had undertaken it. He was a man who could – and would – do anything to see his goals accomplished, and while that certainly made him effective and terrifying, no one with that mindset should be trusted to hold the mantle of a Hero.
“I have to tell people about this. You know that, right? I can’t just let you kill someone and walk away.” Alex was tense, ready to strike if Nick turned that gun toward him.
“By all means, tell whoever you like. I’ll tell them I saw him preparing to catch you off-guard and acted quickly to save your life. It’s unlikely anyone will believe me, but there’s even less of a chance they’ll care. At worst, I expect a slap on the wrist. It’s more likely I’ll get a party in my honor. So relax, Alex. I’m not going to hurt you. Go back and help the others.”
To prove his point, Nick tucked the gun in the waistband of his pants, holding up both hands to show he was now unarmed. Without turning, he began to back away, fading into the trees. “And if you need me, today, tomorrow, at any point down the line, I’ll be here. Waiting in the shadows.”
312.
The biggest fault of Heroes was that they were exceptional, and as consequence, they tended to look for exceptional tactics or solutions. To hide meant using illusions, or mind-control, or shifting form. Outside of those trained in Subtlety, few Heroes would think to consider a mere change of clothes as enough to hide from their amazing powers. And yet, it was a strategy that worked when employed properly. One more guard in an ocean of them. One more man in body armor that hid his form and a helmet that obscured his face. Another pointless drone in the swarm, nothing more than a target to be knocked down.
Charles Adair was not a man born to feel exceptional. Not with Phil in his life, Phil who could seemingly do anything, even before he got his incredible ability. Phil who was brave and bore their father’s wrath to spare his little brother. Phil who was determined and came out on top in a class so strong they would go on to be called legends. Phil who was kind and loyal, making it impossible to properly hate him for setting such an impossible bar. There were days Charles had resented his older brother, but they were long past. Now, Charles could see that living in such a shadow had been a gift. Without the illusion of being exceptional, Charles was forced to find other ways to succeed. He had to think like a human, leaning on strategy, forethought, and trickery. In the end, those were assets Charles prized more dearly than mere power.
After all, Phil might have been the one who protected them in the short term, but Charles was the one who found a way to keep the family safe for good. True, it had meant hiding his gift, not letting anyone, even his loving brother, know about his power for two entire years after the murder. But it was a sacrifice worth making. Even when he showed them, he never let on that if he got close enough, he didn’t actually need physical contact to transform something. It rarely mattered in the HCP or his life as a Hero. The sole time it had really been an issue was when he laid his hand on a sealed bottle of whiskey and turned a substantial amount of it into poison. Phil got adoration and respect, but Charles got results.
Today was different, though. Charles was not a madman or a megalomaniac. He fully understood that he was capable of losing, and that was exactly what had happened here today. Shelby was gone, the research was stolen, his entire enterprise was burning around him. The guards didn’t know it, but they were fighting for nothing at this point. They had no path to victory. All was lost, and had been for some time now. The only reason Charles kept them going was for the distraction. He needed the chaos, needed the identically clothed bodies to give him cover. If it was all over, then he still had one thing left to do. One more task for the unexceptional brother before he could rest.
Gun sti
ll carefully holstered, Charles raced across the battlefield, following the streak of silver hair bounding around. In his arms was Phillip Adair, knocked unconscious, betrayed by his own willingness to trust yet again. Charles had watched it happen from the sidelines, waiting patiently for his opportunity. Hopefully it would come soon.
Some matters could only be settled between siblings.
* * *
Many miles away, Alice finally came to a stop. She needed to rest, if only for a few seconds, and the empty stretch of land seemed a good place for it. Nowhere for anyone to hide or sneak up on her from, no tall structures where a sniper might be able to line up a clean shot at her or her mom. Even as she fled, the Subtlety training in her refused to stop whispering, reminding her of vulnerabilities and places for potential ambush. It didn’t matter that no one else knew where she was, or even that she had Shelby Adair in her possession. Alice was on guard, ready and waiting to deal with any poor stupid bastard that dared try and take her mother away again.
It was Alice’s awareness that let her react quickly when the new figures showed up, one vanishing as quickly as it appeared while the other remained behind. Alice was about to slam the intruder to the ground with enough gravity to break more than a few bones when she realized who it was. No, who it looked like. She could take nothing for granted, not now, not when she finally had Shelby in her grasp.