by Drew Hayes
“No one is upset with you for stopping those things,” Galvanize said, hurriedly stepping in. “Mr. Greene just wishes you’d told us as soon as it happened so he could have gotten ahead of the story. It’s my fault as much as anyone’s. I should have briefed you on that policy before you and Hexcellent went out this morning. It just didn’t occur to me that anything would happen.”
“Are you kidding?” Zone said from the couch. “How could it not? Once he was away from us I bet Titan couldn’t wait to get the cameras on him. He probably called in favors specifically to have them routed to him, all so he could play big bad Hero for the camer- OW!”
The last bit came as Hexcellent took the remote still clutched in her hand and brought it down on Zone’s well-gelled head. It struck so hard that the back flew open and one of the batteries popped out.
“Cut the fucking temper tantrums, Zone. He didn’t do shit. Titan came with me, stayed properly to the sidelines, and minded his manners the entire day. The only reason he took on those robots is because they were literally coming right for us. I’ve watched videos of what those things did to downtown, and if he hadn’t hung around to tear them up, that mall would be in pieces and at least some people would be dead. Even at that, he still took the time to try and get me away to safety before fucking those things up. Be a pissy bitch all you want about real shit, but there was a situation that needed handling and Titan handled it. End of story.”
For a moment, the air between the two teammates grew very tense. There was a second, a very long and dangerous second, when Owen thought Zone was legitimately going to take a swing at Hexcellent. Thankfully, the moment passed, and Zone leaned back into the couch, a sour expression on his face but otherwise silent.
“Right then. Since I’ve already spoken with the DVA and they confirmed that you were pulled in out of necessity, you didn’t violate any protocol with your actions.” Mr. Greene didn’t need to add the “this time” to his statement; his tone already implied it perfectly. “Please do a better job of keeping us in the loop in the future, though. I’d like to remind you that it isn’t just our ‘precious image’ that I’m here to manage, it’s yours as well.”
“Appreciate the concern, but I already pay someone for that.”
“And I’m sure he’s just as good as an entire staff of trained and experienced public relations professionals,” Mr. Greene scoffed. “Regardless, you need to tell us when these incidents happen, especially when one of our people is on the scene with you.”
Owen bit back his planned retort, a very graphic description of what Greene could do to his “public relations professionals,” and made himself calm down. While Owen was the new guy and couldn’t be held too accountable for not calling things in, Hexcellent didn’t have his excuse or his level of fame. Making waves might end up with her head going below water, and he wouldn’t be responsible for that.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call it in,” Owen said slowly. “In the future, I’ll make sure to report these sorts of things as soon as they happen.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear,” Mr. Greene said. “Now go fill out an incident report. I have damage control to do.”
Owen just nodded. He didn’t trust his tongue with the freedom to speak.
22.
Owen had barely finished filling out the incident report when he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door. After no one immediately came through, he realized the person on the other side was waiting for permission, not announcing their entry. These kids were a lot better about personal space than his first Hero team had been, though given the way some of them got along, that might have been out of necessity.
“Come in.”
The door opened and Galvanize stepped through, already suited up in full costume. “Titan, we’ve got some work to do.”
“No voice over the speaker this time?”
“Mr. Greene only uses the emergency alert system when we have assignments of a time-sensitive nature,” Galvanize explained. “Today we’re going downtown to help with the cleanup efforts. No one is in immediate danger.”
“Why would we go help with cleanup? There’s already people for that.” Collateral damage from fights between Supers was a constant issue in any major city, even with Heroes doing their best to keep situations contained. Decades ago, some enterprising people with useful abilities had recognized that this situation had the potential for profit and founded companies specifically to handle the cleanup. With a few Supers whose talents lent themselves to quickly moving or fixing rubble and a teleporter who had decent range, anyone could land contracts with a city to fix what the Supers broke.
“They handle the large-scale issues: clearing streets and making sure no buildings come crashing down. There’s still a lot left to do after a conflict like what we saw today. Streets to sweep, glass to clear, small repairs to be made, that sort of thing. The cleaners are there to make sure the city stays up and running, they’re far less concerned with helping everyone impacted by a battle.”
“Well, that seems a lot like bullshit to me,” Owen said. “I thought the city paid them to take care of everyone.”
“Some services do exactly that, but they also charge more for it. Brewster’s mayor and city council decided to use companies that get the bulk of the work done and let the citizens handle the small stuff on their own.”
Owen let out a sigh and got up from his chair. Once upon a time that sort of thing would have set him off on a tirade, but he was too old and too jaded to get worked up over it now. Government officials were always going to find ways to move money from essential services to things they thought were more worthwhile. . . usually their own pockets. Heroes might be able to lift buildings and defy gravity, but no one could keep greedy, self-serving shitheads out of government. Some things were simply too impossible.
“How long do I have to change?”
“Fifteen minutes. We’re meeting in the garage again.”
“Gotcha. I can be there in five.” Owen grabbed the papers off his small desk and walked over to Galvanize, thrusting them toward the younger man. “Here’s my report about the robots. I think it’ll get Greene off my ass.”
“Mr. Greene is just worried about the team,” Galvanize assured him. He took the papers from Owen and gave them a quick scan. “But speaking of Mr. Greene, I feel it only appropriate to warn you that there will be a very large media presence when we get downtown. He wants you out in the limelight under the company’s approved plan.”
“Of course he does.” Owen shook his head; it was becoming more and more apparent that Greene was going to be a problem. It wasn’t an issue when he pulled this crap in regards to Owen’s Hero Liaison duties, but if he got uppity every time Titan was seen doing Hero work then they were going to quickly come to an impasse. “Don’t worry about me and the cameras; I used to deal with them all the time. Are you guys going to be okay, though? There’s going to some people mighty pissed off that your Hero Liaison is me.”
Galvanize smiled, showing two perfect rows of bleached-white teeth that were both impressive and unnatural. “Oh no, you mean people might not think that highly of us? We might become the butt of the Super community’s jokes, or treated like a bunch of loser wannabes? How on earth would we ever handle something like that? Personally, I can’t even get out of bed in the morning unless I’m roused by screaming fans outside my window.”
“Okay, smartass, you made your point. I guess being associated with me won’t be that bad.”
“I’m sure we’ll still catch a fair amount of crap,” Galvanize said, tucking Owen’s report under his arm. “We’re just used to muddling through it. Being a corpie isn’t a glamorous life, despite what the companies are hoping for. But at the end of the day we make the world a better place. No amount of people being jerks or looking down on us can take that away. I’m sure I don’t have to explain that to a Hero.”
“I’ve known a few who could have benefited from hearing that,” Owen replied. “I’ll be down
in the garage in a few minutes, just need to change into a shirt that doesn’t have robot laser scorch marks.”
“And here I didn’t take you for the vain type.”
“Like I said, I used to do this a lot. What we have today is an unveiling, and you always go to those looking your best,” Owen said. “As my agent told me back when I started: you want to look clean, put-together, and ready for anything. You want to make the regular people fall in love and the criminals shit their pants. Always be bigger than life.”
“Sounds as though your agent and Mr. Greene would get along.”
“Yeah, I sort of doubt that,” Owen replied.
“Well, do what you need to do; just be ready to go soon. All media attention aside, there really is work to be done.” Galvanize took Owen’s report and headed out of the door, leaving the large man to change.
Owen walked over to his closet and pulled it open. He still had four unmarred Titan shirts left. The things were durable as all hell, but no one doing Hero work could keep an outfit clean for long. One of the first things a Hero learned to budget for was all the new costumes they would need. He’d thought six would be enough to last him a while, but between Alexandria’s flames and the robot’s lasers, his shirts were dropping fast. Tonight he’d call Lenny and see about getting hooked up with a new distributor.
In the meantime, he had rubble to clear and cameras to greet.
23.
Despite Galvanize’s warnings, there wasn’t an enormous media presence when the giant SUV pulled to a stop on a slightly-cracked downtown street. In fact, there were fewer reporters than people in costumes. Many of the latter had trash cans and brooms positioned near them. Owen recognized a couple of people from the recent research he’d done about Brewster’s current lineup (being caught off guard by Gale had been quite the wake-up call) and was surprised to realize there were actual Heroes involved in the efforts and not just other corpies. He wondered if Chicago had been worked by cleaners who handled the little stuff, or if he’d just been too caught up in the action part of the job to realize there were people in need even after the fighting was done.
Though there were fewer reporters than Owen had been expecting, it seemed that those who were present really had been waiting for him. No sooner had his giant boots touched down on the broken pavement than a flurry of people with inhumanly perfect skin and professionally tailored outfits descended on him. It was like being attacked by department store mannequins. Owen held up a single hand and they halted their charge, though it didn’t keep their voices from ringing out.
“Titan! Is it true you’re really the original Titan and not a legacy?”
“What Hero team are you looking to work with?”
“Have you come here to be a solo Hero?”
“Is there any truth to rumors that you’re still involved with Tower?”
Owen’s fist tightened at that last one, a gesture he purposely hid by shifting his hand down to his side. Things hadn’t gone well for Colby, or Tower as the world knew him, after they’d been caught. To hear his name come out of the mouths of one of the same sort of media vultures that had helped tear him down. . . it was a good thing Owen had learned a lot about self-control in his time away from the life.
“I’m the real Titan, the one and only, with all the good and bad that brings with it,” he told them. “I’ve decided to come out of retirement, and Brewster seemed like a great town to work in. As for Hero teams, I won’t be needing one of those, nor I am truly working solo. I’m proud to be working as the Hero Liaison for the fine PEERS group you see around me. Now, if that settled everyone’s questions, we really should start helping clean up all this broken glass.”
One of the reporters, the same one who’d asked about Tower, broke away from the group, getting in so close that Owen could smell the recently-chewed mints on the man’s breath.
“Titan, what about the rumors that you and Tower have-”
“You’re new to this job, right?” Owen stared down at him, doing his best to keep his face impassive.
“That’s right! I’m Kip Sterling of the Brewster Evening Edition, the hardest hitting-”
“Uh huh. I guess either your production team doesn’t like you, or they thought it would be a good initiation prank to keep you in the dark.” Owen gently spun the man around and pointed to the other reporters, who were maintaining a safe distance from everyone in a costume. “See how none of them kept pressing things once I told them we were done, or even kept coming forward when I held up my hand? Why do you think you were the only one to rush over?”
“Because Brewster Evening-”
“Wrong. Because when a Hero is on any kind of duty, the press is only allowed to be as close as we say they can be. Just like cops don’t let you in to active crime scenes or dangerous situations, Heroes have to be able to work without worrying about innocent people getting hurt.”
“But that’s only for when there’s an actual fight going on,” Kip Sterling said, finally losing some of the naïve luster in his piercing blue eyes.
“Or for when we’re doing heavy lifting, or suspect a threat isn’t entirely neutralized, or that an area is unsafe for those without proper training or abilities. I can keep going, but you get the point. Yes, this area doesn’t have any robots terrorizing it that we know of. That doesn’t negate the broken glass, uneven concrete, and various bits of debris, not to mention the Supers using their abilities. We all have skills and clearance that let us walk around in these sorts of places safely. You being here puts your safety at risk, and as a Hero I can’t very well have that.”
Owen patted the reporter very gently on the back; the last thing he needed was to accidentally bruise this little asshole and have that be a headline story. “Now, go back to the sidelines with the others. I’ll overlook the mistake this time, since I believe that’s what it was, but next time be more cautious. On scenes like this, unless a Hero specifically gives you permission, going where you aren’t supposed to is a serious crime that will get your station heavily fined. I’ve seen it happen before, and they are never happy about it.”
Kip Sterling seemed like he was about to voice another objection, but a glance to his fellow reporters quelled his resolve. They were all shuffling about, avoiding eye contact and refusing to come any closer. Kip Sterling wasn’t secure enough in this job to risk bringing down a fine on his station. The truth of the matter was that Brewster Evening Edition was a relatively new show, which was why he was trying so hard to get a sound bite for it. This also meant that if the program caused the network too much trouble, they’d have no issue canning it. Kip slunk back to the sidelines with the others, leaving Owen alone with his team.
Galvanize approached as soon as the reporter was gone. “I thought you said you knew how to handle reporters. That one looks like someone stole his teeth-whitening trays.”
“You’re one to talk, Smiley. Besides, I think it went pretty well. I could have slapped that guy with enough fines that his stations wouldn’t let him mop the floors, let alone hold a microphone. Instead, I let him off with a warning and explained the situation to him. Yeah, I took no bullshit, but I did one of their own a kindness. That sort of thing shows itself in the way they write up the stories.”
“And you didn’t think you needed to answer more than three questions? Even we usually do full five-minute interviews after big rescues,” Galvanize said.
“Of which I’m guessing maybe three seconds end up being used, if that.” Owen grabbed a trash can from the back of the vehicle, hyper-aware of photographers snapping dozens of photos of even that mundane an action. “Dealing with the press is like being a performer; you leave them wanting more. The less they know, the more they’ll speculate, and the more they speculate the more coverage they’ll devote to that speculation. Sometimes it’s good, and sometimes it’s bad, but either way it’s coverage, so I think Greene will be happy.”
Galvanize thought it over for a moment. “I don’t know if Mr. Greene is ev
er actually happy. Hopefully he’ll be ambivalent. I think that’s his version of happy.”
24.
With the media handled, or at least subjugated enough to where Owen no longer considered them an issue, the team turned their attention to tidying up the area ravaged by the robots. The cleaners had done an exceptional job of making sure all the roads were clear and the buildings stable. They’d even rebuilt several structures before calling the job done. Nevertheless, there was still a fair bit of debris strewn along the sidewalks and in the drainage gutters of the streets. Shattered glass was abundant, as well as small chunks of concrete. Some pieces were quite sizable, the sort that would have required more than one person and might have resulted in an injured back; Galvanize sent Owen and Bubble Bubble to deal with that particular obstacle.
Owen’s method for handling them was to simply lift the bits of concrete effortlessly off the ground and set them into the trash can he’d been provided with. Initially, he’d worried that it would fall apart when it was filled and he tried to lift it, but that concern proved groundless as the repository held together flawlessly. These kids really did have the best of everything, even trash cans.
Bubble Bubble made slower but steady progress. She would summon one of her energy spheres, carefully encasing the bulk of the debris, then move it over to her own trash can and let the sphere dissipate. Her speed didn’t bother Owen—she was using her abilities the best way they’d function—but he did notice she seemed to take a lot of time between each piece of debris, fixing her hair and repositioning herself several times. At first he thought she was trying to find the best angle of approach for her pieces. By the fifth time it happened, Owen had recognized the all-too-familiar behavior.