Corpies (Super Powereds Spinoff Book 1)

by Drew Hayes

  “You going to tease us with this shit all morning or you going to tell us what mysterious Hero technique you’re going to employ?” Hexcellent asked.

  “Nothing fancy or mysterious. I’m gathering information the same way people have been doing it for centuries,” Owen said. “I’m going to a bar.”

  38.

  A rookie Hero might have been surprised by the amount of people in Brin’s Gate despite the early afternoon hour, but Owen had been around enough to know that Heroes didn’t live on set schedules like people working normal jobs. They worked as needed, slept when they could, and took time to socialize whenever they could manage to find the opportunity. To someone who worked a nine-to-five, the idea of having beers with friends at one in the afternoon was scandalous, but to a team coming off a twenty-hour patrol shift, it was a chance to unwind.

  The bartender greeted Owen’s entrance with a familiar nod. Even having only come in once before, having Gale vouch for him had effectively set up Owen as a known customer, and that meant he’d be able to get real drinks and service. When he was younger he’d worried about going to the bars where Heroes congregated unmasked; after all, what if someone managed to get hold of the staff and torture out information? That was when his mentor explained that these establishments tended to be owned and run by former Heroes, people who weren’t quite so easy to coerce. Even with that, there was still a certain amount of risk, but it was one most Heroes made peace with. No one could be the job full-time. Owen had learned early on that if you didn’t make time for the person under the mask then both identities quickly burned away.

  Owen got a beer, dropping a few bills on the counter to pay for it. These places didn’t take cards or checks: too easy to create a paper trail of clientele. It was cash-only, though some establishments let the more trusted and frequent patrons run tabs. He leaned back against the bar and scanned the room, taking note of each patron.

  In one corner was a group of four people leaning in and talking in hushed voices. A team no doubt, and probably discussing some matter they should have dealt with at their base. Against the far wall was another cluster of people, this one so large it needed two tables to seat everyone. This group was laughing and seemed to be enjoying themselves. Owen guessed they were either all old friends who had met up or a group that just finished a successful team collaboration. Either way, he wasn’t likely to find anyone in there he could talk to.

  His best bet was a solo drinker, someone who wasn’t already encompassed by the shell of a conversation. At the bar were two such people. One sat near Owen nursing a glass of scotch, while the other sat several stools down sipping on some light blue cocktail. Scotch was an older man, face a bit haggard and eyes a touch sunken. He was a man who’d been in the life for a long while, and it had taken its toll on him. Cocktail was male too, but he was younger, with a bit of cheer still shining through as he texted on his phone. It seemed a good bet that Scotch was here just to drink, while Cocktail was waiting for people to join him.

  Owen took his time deciding which one to approach. Scotch would be skilled and smart, not to mention open about sharing resources with a fellow Hero. The problem was, Scotch had the look of a man who’d seen too much, and wasn’t eager to get any more action than he had to. That meant he probably wasn’t proactive; more likely he just took calls from Dispatch and did his job. While Scotch was probably the better overall resource, Cocktail still had vigor and optimism. That would make him a better connection to have in the long-term.

  “Mind if I ask what you’re drinking?” Owen said, sliding a few seats down the bar. “I don’t recall the last time I saw that shade of blue in anything non-toxic.”

  “This might still qualify as toxic; it’s got enough alcohol in it to turn me flammable,” Cocktail replied. “It’s called an Adios Mother Fucker, basically a Long Island except you add Blue Curacao, switch the Coke for Sprite, and double up on all the booze measurements.”

  “Damn, sounds like somebody named that thing well. I admire your courage putting that in your body.”

  “I’m heartier than I look,” Cocktail replied. That was probably saying quite a bit, because he looked hearty to begin with. Every Hero worked out constantly—that part of HCP training was never forgotten—but even by Hero standards Cocktail had a wide set of shoulders and well-defined arms. He struck one of them out to shake Owen’s hand. “Name’s Jeremiah.”

  “Real name? You’re a trusting fellow.”

  “No, Jeremiah is my code name. Long story.”

  “Aren’t they all?” Owen chuckled. He reached over and took the younger man’s hand, giving it a gentle but firm shake. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Titan.”

  Jeremiah’s eyes went wide, but thankfully he didn’t jerk his hand away or recoil. Instead, his smile deepened and he stared at Owen more carefully, clearly trying to imagine the man before him in costume. “I’d heard scuttlebutt that you were back in the life and setting up shop in Brewster no less, but I didn’t really believe it.” They finished shaking hands and Jeremiah picked up his cocktail again. “Then again, that’s assuming you’re really him.”

  “I’d offer to lift something heavy, but I just started coming to this bar and I’d rather not piss off the owner. Besides, who would really want to fake being Titan?”

  “Someone trying to scare the crap out of villains, probably. Or trying to win respect. But I’m inclined to believe you; you definitely have the stature of Titan. Pair that with the rumors, it seems to add up nicely. Tell me something: are you really running around with a group of corpies these days? I assumed that part had to be people making shit up.”

  Owen resisted the urge to tell Jeremiah that the official term was PEERS; he needed to stay on his new friend’s good side if he wanted to start asking for favors and information so soon. “That part is completely true. They’re all good kids, doing the best they can to give back, and I’m enjoying working with them.”

  “Of course you are.” Jeremiah took a long draw from the glass of blue liquid. His voice had been somewhere between sincere and mocking, just between the two enough that it was impossible to pin down which had been intentional. “Tell me, Titan, what brings you out today?”

  “Can’t a man want a beer?”

  “Certainly, but that’s not why you’re here. You cased the room as soon as you walked in, then spent two and half minutes debating whether to approach me or the other gentleman down there. Now you’re trying to ingratiate yourself to me. Obviously you’re either after new friends, teammates, or information; I just thought I’d save us some time and cut to the quick of it.”

  Owen looked the man over once more, with newfound respect. “Telepath?”

  “Not even a little bit. Let’s just say I majored in one of the less respectable options for people in our careers.”

  Owen didn’t need any more than that: Jeremiah was a Subtlety Hero. That explained the keen observational skills. They were the Heroes who focused on code cracking, information gathering, and certain unsavory activities that were necessary for Heroes, but not quite as respectable or flashy as punching out a bank-robber. Many Heroes treated those who focused in Subtlety as inherently untrustworthy, at least until they’d been around long enough to see what the Subtlety Heroes brought to the table. To Owen, however, this was the best possible profession for his new acquaintance to have. Subtlety Heroes were all about information, and that was exactly what he’d come out looking for.

  “How about I buy you another one of those blue drinks, and you tell me what you know about robots?”

  39.

  “By my count, we’re up to number five,” Jeremiah said after slowly draining a portion of his bright blue drink. “Of course, that’s a bit of speculation; whoever this is certainly doesn’t have monopoly on robots. But going by style and evolution of their design, it seems safe to say we just put down the fifth generation.”

  Owen nodded and took a sip of his own beer. “Seeing as that’s hardly common knowledge around
town, I’m guessing the others were easier to beat?”

  “The first few were, but the fourth generation gave us a bit of trouble. That’s why some of us started doing the research and keeping a log of when these showed up. Each time is always the same: robots show up, cause enough destruction or disturbance to draw out some Heroes, then go to town on them. For those of us with some wits and experience, it’s not a giant issue, but this time they got hold of a team of rookies. That upped the collateral damage considerably.”

  “From what I saw yesterday, Wild Bucks going down early in the fight may have been the best thing for everyone,” Owen said.

  “Maybe so, but it made the rest of us a lot more cautious. These things were a big leap ahead from generation four. Learning as they fought was bad enough; add in the healing abilities and you get a bot that can catch even a seasoned Hero off guard.”

  “Five generations, all with no other goals than fighting Heroes. Has to be a refinement game then,” Owen said. It might be a criminal organization training new members or tech-geniuses testing out designs; either way, there was no shortage of people who used Heroes to refine their abilities. It was a dangerous game to play; every asset lost could put Heroes closer to the main inventor or organization. The flip side was that such a trial-by-fire method could significantly increase the power and knowledge of those pulling the strings.

  “That’s what we’re hoping,” Jeremiah said. “The other option is that someone is trying to get enough information on how each Hero in Brewster fights so that they can try and do a purge.”

  “In a town this hot? They’d have to be more than crazy, they’d have to be stupid, and whoever built those things is far from stupid.” Owen had only personally witnessed one attempted purge in his lifetime: a coordinated effort by nearly every criminal, Super or mundane, to simultaneously kill off all the Heroes in their city. That had been when he was starting out, fresh off his internship, in a city smaller than Brewster where The Gentle Hammers were one of only three Super teams. To their credit, the criminals had been smart, prepared, and well-coordinated. What they hadn’t been, however, was counting on the new team to be as unstoppable as they were. The effort was foiled, though each of the other teams lost people in the process. It had been a hard, bloody introduction to the world of Heroes, one that Titan had never forgotten.

  “There are all different kinds of smart. I’ve got a cousin that can’t remember what he had for breakfast but can quote Tolstoy without missing a beat. Building a robot doesn’t mean someone can’t overestimate their own chances at taking down Heroes.”

  “But you don’t think it’s likely,” Owen replied.

  “Hell no. Shit, with all the upstarts in this town, not even I can keep track of the Heroes flowing through, and half my damn job is information,” Jeremiah said. Owen doubted the truth of the statement; most Subtlety Heroes tended to undersell themselves when dealing with those they didn’t completely trust. It was one of the many ways they stayed a step ahead of everyone outside their team. “Anyway, if this bot-maker is aiming for a purge, they’ll need a lot more generations to make it viable. Once Elemental Fury took command, the Heroes put those little fucks down hard.”

  “Speaking of Elemental Fury, what team do you work for, Jeremiah?”

  “Not one that a Hero like you would be familiar with, just a small collective of like-minded Heroes who operate under the name Modus Operandi. Nothing too fancy or flashy; we never even make the top lists of popular Hero teams.”

  “Modus Operandi. . . isn’t that the team composed entirely of Subtlety Heroes?”

  Jeremiah tilted his head ever-so-slightly and looked at his drinking buddy with new respect. “You actually did enough research to know about us? I’m genuinely impressed. Every story I’ve heard paints you as a sheer brute with little mind to speak of.”

  “Gee, what a compliment,” Owen sighed. “I swear, just because I can throw tanks people assume I’m a muscle-headed idiot. I researched most of the Hero teams after I met with Gale; the last thing I wanted to do was rub anyone else the wrong way and end up dealing with unnecessary problems.”

  “From what I hear about your upcoming power assessment, you did a fairly shitty job of that.”

  Owen shot Jeremiah a hard glance, but he just shrugged and drank more blue liquid. Jeremiah was a Subtlety Hero, after all; it was essentially his job to be plugged in to every outlet of information he could. New Heroes in town, and any friction they might be causing, would certainly be part of that.

  “Well, in a few days you’ll get to see firsthand just how bad I am at handling these kinds of situations. The assessment is officially scheduled and set up so that everyone who wants to can see it. Makes me miss the days when all people did was try and kill me in my sleep.”

  “Worried you’ll get trounced?”

  “Nope, other direction.”

  “Ah, a man who at least believes he lives up to his legend,” Jeremiah polished off his drink and motioned to the bartender for another. “Look, don’t fret about it too much. Elemental Fury is a legacy team with outstanding stats and a reputation that deserves respect. That said, we all know Gale has a bit of a stick up her ass. No one is going to hold it against you if you manage to knock her down a few pegs. Well, no one aside from Gale, I mean.”

  “Maybe not, but this wasn’t really how I wanted to come back on to the Hero scene.”

  “From what I know about you, you sure as hell didn’t leave Hero work under the circumstances you would have chosen; I don’t see why your return should be any different.”

  “Has anyone told you that you’re terrible at cheering people up?” Owen asked.

  “Chin up, Titan. What I’m saying is you’re disgraced and tons of people hate you. You’re already in the shitpile. So what’s the worst that can happen here? Some people like what you do, some hate it, either way nothing really changes. That’s the upside of being disgraced and hated: you’ve got more freedom than the rest of us. You’re the only one who can truly say and do what he wants without fear of image repercussions. You’re free, Titan. Stop moping about and enjoy it, for fuck’s sake.”

  40.

  The next week was a tame one; Mr. Greene kept his distance as Owen continued to get more familiar with his team. They weren’t called on any rescue jobs, which struck Owen as a touch odd when he watched the news and saw what was happening the city, but it wasn’t his place to push on that front. After the lines he’d aggressively drawn with Greene in their fight, he didn’t have any right to go stepping into the other man’s territory.

  When Owen woke up on Wednesday, however, it was not with any questions about what the day held in store. This was the day of his power assessment. The details had been finalized on Monday; he was going to Elemental Fury’s base at noon (the symbolism wasn’t lost on him one bit) to be formally tested by the Hero team. There would be an almost-live feed of the event (slightly delayed in case someone said something unHerolike or a mask came lose and censoring was needed) fed to every person who had purchased the pay-per-view. From what Lenny had told Owen the day before, that was quite a large number of people. On the plus side, when all this was over, Owen would be getting a considerable sum of money no matter how it played out. If he could still get drunk, he likely would have put every cent toward enough whiskey to wash away the memory of the whole ordeal.

  Owen suited up in his Titan gear that morning. There was no need to lie about and pretend this wouldn’t dominate his day. He was officially off the clock as a Hero Liaison until Thursday, leaving him the whole morning to worry about the fallout from this test. Owen shook it off as he slipped on his mask and pressed the button to activate his earpiece.

  “Titan, reporting in.”

  “Dispatch recognizes Titan. You are shown as inactive today for a power assessment with Elemental Fury. Do you wish to change this status?”

  For a moment, Owen was tempted to do just that. If he went active in the morning, it might give him the chance t
o clear his head and work off some nerves. Best case scenario, if he got pinned down in something big, it could give him a valid reason to skip the assessment altogether. Sadly, tempting as it was, he had to decline the option. Someone in trouble deserved a Hero with their head in the game, and even if he did postpone the assessment, it just meant more time to dread the damn thing. Better to meet it head on and be done.

  “No, that status is accurate,” Owen replied, just a touch of regret in his voice. “Checking in to see if there have been any more robot attacks, ones that the news might not have covered.”

  “None so far.” Dispatch didn’t have to specify things like “that I know of” or any such nonsense. If Dispatch didn’t know of it, then it hadn’t happened. “In the current suspected pattern there are several weeks between attacks.”

  “I know, just making sure,” Owen sighed. Jeremiah had given him wonderful intelligence, more than Owen could have rightfully asked for, but it didn’t change the fact that he still had no idea what to do next. Nothing frustrated Owen more than being aware of a problem but not being able to deal with it. He was a physical man; he liked to be in the thick of trouble rather than standing around with his thumb up his ass.

  “There’s little need to bother checking in. You’ve been moved to priority response when their next attack occurs.”

  This was news to Owen, and it showed on his face. Not that Dispatch could tell. Actually, given how much she knew, Owen really couldn’t be sure that she didn’t have some way to watch him when they talked. Priority on a response was which Heroes were tapped first, something he didn’t technically have the right to. For general incidents they went with whoever was closest, but sometimes certain Heroes were tracking a case or had a proven track record against a threat, and it made the most sense to call them in first.