by Drew Hayes
“We can still do what we spent so many years training for,” he continued. “It doesn’t matter if no one trusts or likes us, we can still make a difference. And we should, because even if Titan is right about there being no such thing as redemption, I still want to end my life saving more lives than I cost. Maybe that’s selfish or stupid, but right now it’s not something that I can say I’ve done and I hate myself for that.”
Another fog of silence fell upon them as Kaiju’s words faded, and once again it was Deadlift who ultimately broke it. “If we press on, we do it knowing that things will be awful, and that we’ll be a single fuck up away from being out on our asses. But we can press on. Is that what you wanted us to understand?”
“It’s a start,” Titan replied. “Logistically, you lot need to work like hell on your training to make sure you minimize casualties and damages. Getting rid of your problematic members will likely go a long way toward making that better. Training is important, it’s vital, but all the effort in the world wouldn’t make a difference if you didn’t have a firm grasp on what was waiting for you outside these walls.”
“Thank you,” Kaiju said, a bit of the former life returning to his voice as he unashamedly wiped his eyes. Titan couldn’t be sure, but he suspected that whatever link Topsy had to this team was through Kaiju. The kid had the sort of aura that made people want to help him.
“I have a question,” Juiced said. For the first time, she seemed quieter, less certain in her words. “And I don’t want you to take this the wrong way. I’m not trying to turn the tables or invalidate what you told us; I just want to understand a bit better.”
Titan nodded, and Juiced continued. “Have you ever. . . made a mistake? Maybe not as big as ours was, but. . . you know.”
“Three hundred and forty seven people.” Titan said. His voice didn’t waver or soften, because this wasn’t a thought that suddenly sprang to mind at her question. That number was with him every day, in everything he did. There was no change as Titan talked about his number, because the usual Titan was always thinking about it, in some form or another.
“That’s how many people I wasn’t strong enough, or fast enough, or smart enough, or sometimes even ruthless enough, to save. I have a list with all their names on it. Some of those were from dumb mistakes I made; some I still look back and can’t think of any way that I could have saved them. It doesn’t matter why it happened, though. At the end of the day I fell short and people died. That’s why you train, that’s why you push forward, that’s why you always have to be better. So that the next time you go out, just maybe you can come home without having to write another name on that goddamned list.”
65.
“You came down on them hard.” Topsy pulled a beer from the mini-fridge in his room, then grabbed a second and offered it to Owen.
“No one out there is going to be gentle with them. Better they face what’s ahead with one foot already in their ass so they don’t forget what’s waiting for them.” Owen accepted the beer and sat in one of Topsy’s old chairs. He was pretty sure it was one that been around at the Gentle Hammers’ base so long ago, and now it had made the trip to Topsy's sparse quarters with the Wild Bucks. “Besides, they’ve got you for the kid gloves.”
“I think I may have used those too much.” Topsy fell into his own chair, a more recent acquisition that almost would have looked at home in the penthouse. “Maybe if I’d been a bit sterner things wouldn’t have gone the way they did.”
“None of that,” Owen said. “All we can do is guide the young ones. Set a good example. Teach them what we learned through our own mistakes. How much they take from it is on them. You’re no more accountable for their fuck-ups than the older Heroes we got advice from were for ours.”
Topsy snorted and shook his head. “The one I remember the most was them telling us we shouldn’t try to form a group out of just physically-gifted Supers. Said we needed a little variety if we wanted to be of any use at all.”
“Well, that was different. They were dipshits.” Owen took a swig of his beer to punctuate the point. He keenly recalled all the older Heroes saying a team needed diverse skill sets to be of any use at all. Even back then, he knew they were wrong. There was something to be said for specialization, and a team full of coordinated heavy-hitters would be useful in all kinds of situations. History had proven him right in the end, though the many teams that tried, and failed, to emulate their strategy also showed that conventional wisdom hadn’t been entirely off base. Specialty teams were doable, they just weren’t easy.
“Maybe so, but part of me wishes I’d given these kids the same advice instead of agreeing to coach them.”
“Topsy, if you hadn’t helped them who knows how much worse things would be? They might all be stripped of their certification, or up on trial for gross negligence. I’m sure you helped, though I do wish you’d tell me why you were doing it. There’s no way this team can afford you.”
“That obvious, am I?” Topsy sighed, but it was clear he’d known from the beginning that Owen would figure it out. Unlike many idiotic criminals, Topsy knew better than to judge a man’s brains by the size of his muscles. “Deadlift is the nephew of a Hero who interned under me. He was a good man; we even teamed up on several occasions after his internship was over. Poor guy passed about two years back.”
“Died in the field?” Owen asked.
“Cancer. Still burns my ass that we’ve got people who can turn mushed bones whole, but we have to lose good people to disease.”
“We’ve all got limits, Topsy. The healers are no different.”
“I don’t blame the ones who couldn’t fix it. I blame the ones who can but would charge half a nation’s economy to do it.” Topsy took a long draw from his beer to calm down. “Anyway, Deadlift came to me after his internship was over, said he’d heard how highly his uncle spoke of me and wondered if I’d be willing to coach a team he was planning. Another group of heavy-hitters, like the Gentle Hammers in their prime.”
“Makes sense.” Perhaps from someone else the words would have been patronizing, but Owen was completely sincere. He knew how deep the bond between Heroes in the field went, doubly so for the ones who shared an internship. His own mentor had been a huge part of his early career, and Owen had visited the man frequently long after his teacher’s cape was hung up. “All of that’s in the past now. Any ideas about what you’ll do with them in the future?”
“The ones who want to keep going, I’ll teach,” Topsy replied. “If anyone decides to bail out. . . well, this life isn’t for everyone. Can’t say I’ll blame them. Those that remain are going to be drilled six ways to Sunday, though. I’ll be damned if I’ll have another incident like this on my conscience.”
“I can’t speak on the ones that are gone, but I think those three have their hearts in the right places. And after what’s happened, they have a firm understanding of the consequences of their actions. With enough training and direction, they may just be able to pull themselves out of this hole, one day.”
“I truly hope so,” Topsy said. “Of course, you know what would help a lot? If an older, more experienced, still-active Hero joined the team. Someone who knows how to deal with adversity from the media and can watch out for them in the field.”
“Topsy, I’ve already got a team,” Owen said.
“A team of corpies, of which you’re the babysitter. I’ll admit this team might be bottom of the barrel right now, but they’re still Heroes. You could be back out in the field, stopping real criminals. I know you must miss it, that's why you came back.”
“I came back because I wanted to make the world just a little bit better,” Owen corrected. “And yes, I wanted to make sure I was around for the big threats that might get other Heroes killed. If you’d made me this offer a few months ago, I probably would have jumped at it, but that was before I got to see what it was like working with that team of corpies. You know what I discovered in that time? I like working with my team. We�
�re out there saving lives, helping people, and at the end of the day I have a lot less blood on my hands. I’m still around for when the big problems pop up, but I’d rather spend my days making a difference like this. At least for now.”
Topsy nodded his head, then polished off his beer. “I won’t say I don’t get it, because I do. You don’t even realize how much weight you’re carrying around as a Hero until the day you finally get to set it down. Still, even if you’re around for the big fights, it’s a waste of your potential to have you pulling kittens out of trees.”
“Maybe so,” Owen agreed. “But it’s my potential to waste, and I’m going to stick with my team. Who, speaking of, I need to get back to. Thanks for the beer.”
“Thanks for giving them the talk,” Topsy said, rising to escort his friend out. “And just keep the offer in mind. In case things change.”
“If they do, you’ll be the first to know.”
66.
“Thank you for coming by,” Kaiju said, shaking the large man’s hand one last time as they stood at the door to the base.
“We truly appreciated your advice,” Deadlift added.
“It helps to know what we’re facing,” Juiced said.
Owen smiled at the kids and did another round of handshakes. Maybe they’d manage to pull themselves out this, maybe they wouldn’t. All he knew what that it seemed like they were going to do their best, and that alone was something of a triumph.
“Just glad to-”
“Titan, you are being formally activated under emergency protocol Thirty Two C.”
Owen wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that Dispatch’s voice had spoken in his ear, or the fact that every member of the Wild Bucks had clearly just gotten a similar interruption.
“Titan acknowledges. Wait, a Thirty Two C. . . that means I’ve got hostiles incoming on a base.”
“Correct,” Dispatch confirmed. “The robotic hordes you’ve been interested in have resurfaced. Currently tracking one pack moving toward you, one moving toward Elemental Fury’s location, and one approaching what we’re speculating is Transcendental Justice’s base.”
Owen wracked his brain on the last name, certain he’d heard it before. Finally it clicked: Aether, the woman who’d helped him and Granite with rescue work, was on that team. From the outset it seemed to support Jeremiah’s theory that the bots were using Heroes for refining their abilities. After all, why not go against heavy-hitters? The issue there was that he’d come to the Wild Buck’s home unofficially, so that meant they were the targets, which was odd given their disgraced status. Plus, Transcendental Justice was a middling team in both power and popularity. The only one of the three that made sense to go after was Elemental Fury.
“Do we have any clue as to what they’re after?”
“The Subtlety Heroes have been contacted and are doing what they can; however, at the moment we must assume they seek more destruction and engagement. Assets are being redirected to you as we speak.”
“Wait, how many are heading toward my location?” Owen asked.
“We’ve been able to confirm that each squad is made of nine robots,” Dispatch said.
“I took out four on my own last time, seems like nine is doable. Put the assets toward something more useful. Have them help Transcendental Justice, or keep watch to make sure this isn’t a diversion.”
“There are already assets allocated to those tasks, Titan, and you receiving help is not optional. Every incarnation of these machines is exponentially stronger than before. While you might be fine, you are limited in your capabilities to contain damage.”
“Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Owen was fairly certain he’d heard a slight tremor of annoyance in Dispatch’s usually calm and steady voice. Since she was both a key asset and one of the few constants in his life, he saw no reason to upset her. “Can I get ETAs on the hostiles as well as backup?”
“Certainly. Hostiles will be at your location in less than three minutes. Backup will arrive within seven. The Wild Bucks are being ordered to assist you, but you are to take the lead on engagement until the extent of the robots’ new abilities has been ascertained.”
Even in a group of tanks, Owen was still the one getting shoved to the front lines. He’d have been a bit annoyed by it, except that he would have made the same call, given the choice. After all, he was the least likely to be injured. That was why he’d become a Hero in the first place: to shake off the blows that would cripple or kill others.
“Understood. I’ll have them hang back and focus on keeping the bots contained.” Owen swung his head around to tell the team to get ready, only to find they’d beaten him to it.
Kaiju was no longer recognizable in his shifted form. Fourteen feet of red, scaly lizard towered above everyone. Just glancing at the thickness of his armor and sharpness of the claws made Owen feel sorry for whatever poor tin can the kid got into it with. There was going to be a lot of scrap metal when the day was done.
Next to him, Juiced was setting down a milk jug full of clear liquid, her body already swelling with power as she picked up a second jug. Owen didn’t know how much she could put down before diminishing returns kicked in, but he was looking forward to finding out.
Deadlift was the only one not changed physically, unless one counted the giant steel beam he was casually holding over his head. From the looks of it they’d salvaged the thing out of one of the abandoned warehouses. If his power let him swing that thing at full force even though it was weightless in his hands, it could turn out to be an interesting battle.
Owen glanced down and saw the ground at Topsy’s feet had cracked, one of the telltale signs that his old friend was warming up. He walked over and calmly put a hand on Topsy’s shoulder. “If you can avoid going in, do. Obviously keep them safe as needed, but don’t jump in unless there’s cause for it.”
“Afraid I can’t hack it anymore just because my body doesn’t ignore aging?”
“My body doesn’t ignore aging. It just sort of. . . tunes it out a lot of the time. Anyway, no, that’s not why I want you to stay on the sidelines.” Owen lowered his voice a few degrees and hoped none of the Wild Bucks had enhanced hearing. “I just came through here and told them how screwed they were, after the DVA no doubt spent weeks grilling them about their mistakes. Right now, there’s no way they see themselves as anything more than fuck-ups. What they need at this moment, more than any nice speech or spark of hope, is to put one in the win column. They need to remember what it is they’re good at, and in a team like theirs that’s only one thing: kicking ass.”
“I notice you still plan to go ahead and enter the fray,” Topsy pointed out.
“That’s different. For one thing, I’m not their coach, so it feels less like a parent keeping them safe. Plus, Dispatch tasked me with handling this. I’m still active, after all.” Owen patted his friend on the shoulder reassuringly.
“And last, but far from least, I’m fucking Titan. That means if there’s a fight, I’m in the middle of it.”
67.
When the robots burst into view, Titan could feel the Wild Bucks tense behind him. It was no wonder: they’d been knocked on their asses by the last iteration of these things and that was with two more members on the team. Of course, last time Topsy clearly hadn’t been there; Titan knew that just from the fact that any robots had managed to walk away. And he hadn’t been there either, which meant that this was going to be a very different fight than the last time.
A pale, salmon-colored beam of light tore out of one of the robots, lancing across the concrete on its way to the Heroes standing forty feet away. As the beam struck the ground it left cracks and scorch marks, causing enough damage to make for rough driving terrain but not so much that a tire would get stuck. Titan calmly angled himself in front of the team and took the beam across his chest before it petered away to nothing. In truth, he doubted something that weak could have hurt anyone besides Deadlift, but it didn’t hurt to start things off with a
nice show of force. Titan found it interesting that the robots had upgraded their ranged attacks. Part of him wondered if that was in the hopes of taking out Supers like him before they could get in close.
“I’m heading in,” Titan announced. “Kaiju, circle around to the northeast; that’s the easiest exit they’ve got so I want you to make sure they don’t use it. Deadlift, as I recall you can throw those big objects, so give me some ranged support. Juiced, from what I’ve seen on tapes you’re pretty mobile; run along the outsides of the crowd and pick off the distracted ones. Topsy. . . well, you’ll know what to do if it’s needed.”
Titan burst forward without even waiting for a single member of the team to confirm their orders. Part of this was so he could surprise the robots and hit them before they were ready, but he also wanted to show the team that he trusted them. He’d told them what to do and left them to do it, just as though they were competent Heroes instead of recent screw-ups. Only they could prove which of those definitions truly suited them.
As he drew close the robots tried to spread out, clearly expecting his charge after their last battle. Titan let them. There was no way he could keep all of them wrangled in a single spot without support from a Hero using some sort of crowd control powers. He instead focused on the two nearest to him, grabbing each robot with one of his hands and lifting them into the air. Titan could hear the crackle of charging weapons and see the robots shuffling to encircle him. No doubt about it: this was a tactic they’d developed for dealing with strongmen. Trying to overwhelm his resistance to damage by attack simultaneously on all fronts was actually a pretty good plan, in theory. Hell, it probably would have even worked. . . against someone else.