Not Your Villain

by C. B. Lee

  “Insufficient funds. Swipe Data Exchange Device or insert additional—”

  Bells curses, kicking the machine. What is he supposed to do now?

  He paces back and forth, and then considers sneaking onto the bus. He’s coming up with a plan: maybe shift into—

  “BELLS!”

  “What— ” Bells is tackled in a hug. “—Emma?” He hugs her back, too shocked to process what’s happening. “What are you guys doing here?”

  Jess flings her arms around him, and Abby joins in the group hug.

  “Good to see you, Bells,” Brendan says, nodding. He’s wearing an all-black tactical outfit, complete with a matching hat. He pats Bells awkwardly on the shoulder. “At fourteen hundred hours yesterday, you did not return from your objective, and the Sidekick Squad immediately mobilized to—” He coughs. “This is a rescue.”

  “Where were you? What happened?” Emma demands.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Was it the League? Orion?”

  “We were so worried, Bells!”

  He blinks at the rapid-fire questions and lets them lead him to the parking lot. “How did you even…” He stops, staring at the car.

  Emma’s car has been fitted with new tires and its own solar panels, and the inside is stuffed to the brim with luggage and tech and… food?

  Jess smirks. “I mean, when you didn’t come back, we thought the worst had happened. We had to go after you.”

  “But you had no way of knowing where I was or who had—”

  Jess shrugs.

  “Of course we came after you,” Emma says.

  “We were halfway across Utah when I realized you were going in the opposite direction so we just turned around,” Jess says. “Emma drove all night, and then we charged the car this morning and kept going.”

  “And we came prepared. I mean, we found you only an hour away from Andover, but believe me, this has been one ridiculous night. We were prepared to go all the way across the country for you.”

  “We withdrew from school,” Abby says.

  “What?”

  “I mean, the idea was yours. We checked your house first, looking for you, and found the paperwork your dad left. Genius,” Emma says. “I mean, it’s just the rest of the year, and we have to file a lot of assignments for independent study, and Bells, Ms. Rhinehart says she can definitely write you a recommendation letter for that art school you wanted to apply to.”

  Bells’ heart swells with affection.

  Abby nudges him into the car, and they all squeeze in around the luggage. “So what happened?”

  “Yeah, you haven’t answered any of our questions.” Brendan says. “It’s vital to have as much information as possible.

  “And what are you wearing?” Emma asks, poking the fluffy coat.

  Bells laughs. “I smell fresh bread,” he says. He hasn’t eaten since that dismal protein bar back in Elk Ridge. “Is that bánh mì?”

  Jess hands him a sandwich and glares at Brendan. “Let him eat. And then he’ll talk to us. The important thing is he’s safe.”

  Bells nods around his mouthful of bread. They’re not really safe, now. No one is. But he can finish his sandwich before they do something about it.

  His friends’ reactions to the incident are what Bells expected: horror, shock, and worry. Bells… Bells is tired. He doesn’t want to talk anymore, doesn’t want to go into the details or re-experience any of it, but he has to answer questions. How much did Orion know? Where was she going? What was she working on with Stone?

  He’s eating another sandwich, and his feet are comfortable in Emma’s lap as everyone talks rapid-fire about what to do next.

  Brendan scrunches up his face in concentration. “She must be setting her sights on more meta-humans for her experiments.”

  “If my dad gave up the plans because he thought I was captured, or maybe me and Mom were captured…”

  Jess taps her fingers restlessly against the window. “Why would Claudia… Do you think she is in the Resistance but is lying about it?”

  “We need to stop Orion before she gets that Registry,” Emma says. “She’s not going to stop until she gets what she wants. And once she has the Collective’s complete list of meta-humans in the country, descriptions of their powers and all their contact information, and where they live, who will be able to stop her?”

  Bells shakes his head. He doesn’t like the sound of that at all.

  “She did say she didn’t know where it was, but she had a contact,” Abby says. “What does this mean? How close is she?”

  It seems impossible, yet inevitable. Bells has been thinking of it since Orion brought it up in the first place, and the idea has been simmering in the back of his head on the train ride, but now it’s charging to the forefront.

  He takes a deep breath. “We’re going to need to steal it first.”

  Part 3: Go

  Ch. 12...

  “Steal the Registry?” Emma tilts her head. “Is that possible? Can’t you hack it, Brendan? You are a genius.”

  Brendan whistles. “Well, it’s not on a server. They keep that kind of data on hard documents. Paper. Can’t hack those.”

  “Where would they be? In the capital? New Bright City?”

  Brendan shakes his head. “They store these docs in the most secure place they know. It’s guarded by either the best tech or meta-humans or both, day and night.”

  Bells exhales. “The training center. That’s why she was asking me about it.”

  “What’s that?” Emma asks.

  Bells takes a deep breath, trying to put into words the breadth of the archives he’s seen. In both locations where he’s trained, there’s been an area that was off-limits to trainees, patrolled constantly by guards.

  “It’s the base for all things meta-human. The headquarters,” Bells says. “Everyone who goes into training learns about their powers and how to perfect them. It would be the most secure place in the Collective; it’s only accessible by hovertrain and even after that there’s a myriad of lifts and paths to get there.” Bells shudders, thinking about how high the facility is. He glances out the window at the golden desert flying past them. Those lush green heights seem so far away, like another world.

  Abby raises her eyebrows. “But the training center’s location is the League’s most heavily guarded secret; not even all the members know where it is. And it changes every five years.”

  Bells holds his hand up. “And they just changed to a new location.”

  “So how do we get there?”

  Bells grins. “Someone who recently completed training would be able to find his way back.”

  Brendan nods. “If your ID as Chameleon—Barry Carmichael—still works, you’d be able to access the transport to get you in there. Good job on that ID, by the way; it’s flawless.”

  “But if you use that ID…” Jess says, frowning, “it’ll immediately alert the Authorities, I’m sure.”

  “We would have to be quick, get in and get out before the Authorities arrive.” He’s already trying to figure out the best route.

  “All right, let’s narrow down where this is,” Abby says, throwing up a projection on her DED to take notes. “What do you remember?”

  Bells tries to recall as many details as he can as they brainstorm: the giant trees towering above him, the misty mornings, how he got there from Aerial City.

  “Redwood trees narrows it down to these regions in the Pacific Northwest: Canadian coast and inland, Oregon, Washington, Northern California,” Emma says.

  Abby nods. “Misty, even in the summer? Very close to the coast.”

  “And solar trees, bioluminescent trees,” Brendan chimes in. “It was close to Aerial City, but far enough to warrant its own power supply.”

  Jess closes her eyes and points northwest. “I mea
n, it’s not much, but I expect I can narrow it down more when we get there.”

  A burst of thunder startles everyone in the car. Emma slows down. “What was that?”

  “Rain?” Abby asks.

  “Thunderstorm,” Bells says.

  Foreboding clouds, heavy with rain, loom on the horizon. Bells frowns. Where did these clouds come from?

  There’s another burst of thunder, and then a flash of lightning.

  “How far was that?”

  “I wasn’t counting.”

  “We need to hurry,” Emma says. “We need to repack and get Bells’ things.”

  “And my motorcycle,” Bells adds.

  The car accelerates down the lonely road; Emma is right, there’s nothing but flat desert all around and the mountains to the west. They’d be nothing but targets in a storm.

  The warning siren wails from town, reminding people to prepare for the coming power outages.

  “Hey, do you remember Coldfront?” Abby asks suddenly.

  “Yeah, supposedly caught and put in Corrections last year,” Emma says.

  Bells nods, looking outside at another flash of lightning. “He always mixed up what order thunder and lightning would go.”

  “It wasn’t really lightning, though, it was just the sound and appearance of it,” Abby corrects. “His actual power had only to do with rain and mimicking the appearance of storms. Now, Captain Orion could generate actual lightning—”

  “Right, right,” Bells says.

  Another rumble sounds. “Yeah,” Emma agrees. “I don’t like this. Would Coldfront be working with the League? Why a storm? Why now?”

  Brendan looks up from his DED. “Wait. Don’t go into town. I’ve got it! I’ve found them!”

  “What?” Emma brings the car to a stop.

  “The Resistance! I’ve cracked the last code!” He waves the decoded message. “They’re having a meeting today!”

  Brendan’s directions to the meeting—actually, ST-1LE3’s directions—lead them deep into the canyons. We’re not too far from Abby’s house. Funny how this group of people has been meeting here all the while they were looking for them. After parking the car next to a wash, they follow the instructions.

  “Thirty paces past the tree thrice-struck by lightning,” Emma says. “Who wrote this? Thrice-struck? Can you tell? Does this one look burnt enough?”

  The Joshua tree is gnarled and charred. Bells shrugs. It looks as if it’s been struck by lightning at least once.

  About thirty paces later, they find nothing but a bare patch of land.

  “Great. Brendan, you’ve led us out here for nothing,” Emma says.

  “There has to be something here,” Brendan says, shaking his head.

  “Hey,” Jess jumps and lands on the ground with a cold metal thunk.

  “Old bunkers for surviving the Disasters,” Abby says. “That’s the perfect place for a secret network of people to meet.”

  They push aside the brush and uncover a rusted metal door. It takes all five of them to lift it, and only solemn silence waits below.

  “Ready?” Bells asks.

  They climb down into the waiting dark.

  The tunnel is cold, and Bells doesn’t resist when Emma takes his hand and squeezes it. It’s for comfort, he tells himself.

  Bells wasn’t sure the Resistance was real. Sure, coded messages and people of interest pinged Brendan’s algorithms, but the fact that there’s an organized group of people actively trying to overthrow the government is overwhelming. He imagines a group of people clad in uniforms with matching hats, who greet each other with real codenames.

  He’s relieved. They’ll have help, not just stealing the Registry, but with everything.

  “Okay, this is it. We’ve walked a hundred and eighty paces; it should be here somewhere,” Emma mutters, throwing her hands out to touch the walls of the tunnel.

  “Sure, a hundred eighty of your paces,” Bells says. “I’m pretty sure it’s here.” He gestures at his section of the wall.

  “You were power-walking the whole time.” Emma rolls her eyes.

  “I wasn’t power-walking!” Bells says indignantly. “I walked how I always walk!”

  “Which is power-walking, because you have long legs.” She pounds at the rock wall. “Come on, don’t just stand there, help!”

  Jess laughs. “The instructions did say an average pace. And, Bells, that is definitely not you.”

  Bells lets out a sarcastic gasp. “You mean I’m taller than average? Oh no, I had no idea.”

  Emma shakes her head. “And probably gonna get taller too, if you get another growth spurt.”

  Bells whistles. “That sucks, I have a hard enough time dealing with heights as it is.” Listening for hollow noises, he knocks on the wall anyway. He can hear Abby doing the same thing, leaving Jess to hold up the last DED for light.

  “Uh, guys?” Jess says. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?”

  Jess squints and moves her DED away from the wall. “Sounded like a camera swiveling.”

  “Hey, bring that light back!” Emma snaps.

  “You do know I know exactly where the door is, right?” Jess asks, amused.

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?” Bells stops his search and throws his hands up at Jess.

  The conversation stops abruptly when a section of the rock wall slides open to reveal a window.

  After Bells’ eyes adjust, he can see a pair of goggles peeking out at them; its lenses reflect circles of light onto Emma’s face.

  “Uh, hello,” Emma stammers.

  “Who shot first?” the words are short bursts of staccato; the voice is clipped and impatient.

  They exchange glances. “What?” Abby says, after a long tense moment. “Nobody shot anyone. Guns aren’t… We aren’t…”

  “It’s a password,” Bells says. “We need the correct password to get in.” He glances at the goggle-masked person and gives them a pleading look. “Look, we’ve been trying to find you for a while. Can you just let us in so we can talk? We have important information.”

  “Who shot first?” Faster this time, and Bells can see the window closing and hear the metal panel screech as it starts to slide.

  “What kind of question—”

  “Star Wars,” Jess says suddenly, snapping her fingers and grinning. “Han shot first.”

  The goggle-faced person cackles. “Course he did. Come on in, young padawans. Welcome to the Resistance.” There’s the sound of electronic buzzing, and then a large panel of fake rock wall swivels out.

  “I’m Cal.” This is accompanied by a little bow and flourish. “They/them. Who are you all?”

  “Emma, she/her,” Emma says, following Cal, and gives Bells a triumphant look that he takes to say Look! We found the Resistance.

  They share their names and pronouns as Bells’ eyes adjust to the light. The room is a lot smaller than he thought it would be, with a few couches and comfortable arm chairs. Is that a bean bag? Maybe this is just the lobby. There must be a network of labyrinthine passages and people working round the clock finding a way to expose the corrupt League.

  Two men are sprawled on the couch. Thomas, the one with a salt-and-pepper beard, has his arm around Kyle, a brunet in a rumpled plaid shirt who waves at them. Janice, who can’t be more than twelve or thirteen, sits on the beanbag; her legs dangle cheerfully. Preston, a college-aged boy, sits on another couch. He wears round glasses and has a lightning bolt drawn on his forehead.

  Kyle brightens up after the introductions. “Welcome, welcome!” he says cheerfully. “Did you guys bring snacks?”

  Emma looks at Bells, who shrugs. He wasn't the one who wanted to crash a super-secret Resistance meeting.

  “No, sorry,” Emma says. “We do have a lot of food back at the… I mean, we
could go back and…” she trails off, taking in the tiny room.

  Abby’s eyes are narrowed, darting from corner to corner.

  Jess has her arms crossed, and she has an exasperated look on her face. “I tried to tell you,” she whispers. “I didn’t realize it earlier because I wasn’t asking the right question, but uhh…”

  There’s a huge screen—old-school, not a holoprojector—and Bells recognizes the two-dimensional image frozen on the pixilated screen. There’s a small, green, funny-eared character in robes—Yoba? Something. It’s one of Jess’ favorite movies from her illegal pre-Collective stash.

  “Uh… you are the Resistance?” Bells takes another look. They don’t appear to be doing anything… rebellious, although they could be taking a break.

  “Yeah,” Preston says. “We’re here to stick it to the government. No one can tell us what we can and can’t watch; media is ours to decide!” He pumps his fist in the air.

  “Yeah!” Janice echoes.

  “Okay, shut up, stop being weird in front of the newbies. How’d you guys find us, by the way? Was it Joel? He said there might be some new recruits coming from Crystal Springs this week.” Cal directs their scrutinizing gaze toward Bells, who awkwardly waves back.

  They grin, making the freckles on their face dance with movement. They push their goggles up to the top of their head. “Not that I mind. The more the merrier!”

  “Is this… everyone?” Bells asks, eyeing the five of them.

  “Oh no, not at all! There are countless devotees all across the NAC who meet in secret to watch banned pre-Collective films, including the amazing trilogy—”

  “There are nine chapters,” Kyle pipes up.

  “Three!”

  “Six, if you—”

  Abby frowns. “Wait… you guys meet here to watch—”

  “Star Wars.” Jess sighs. “They’re not the droids we’re looking for.”

  “They’re not the Resistance,” Bells says, and groans. He thought there was a secret organization with resources and plans and ideas, and it turns out the adults were right. They are just kids who don’t know anything and who need all the help they can get. They spent so much time on this wild goose chase, and all they have to show for it is a movie-watching club.