by C. C. Ekeke
“Okay. Okay!” Baz held a hand up in truce. Hugo softened his grip. Simon looked as tickled as Hugo felt. “Sorry!” Baz hissed through gritted teeth. “You happy now—Aah…the hell?!”
Hugo squeezed a slight fraction harder, unimpressed. “That didn’t sound genuine.” Baz thrashed and howled. Jesus, did Hugo adore his superstrength. Titan wouldn’t approve of this. Then again, Titan was a hypocrite. And dead. Fuck him. Hugo turned to Simon. “Did Baz sound sorry?”
“Nope.” Simon smirked, bouncing on his heels.
An uneasiness settled over the no-longer-rabid gathering. Hugo didn’t care. He was sending a message. “Apologize like you mean it.”
“Bogie, enough!” Brie angrily waved her hands to catch his eye. “Baz said he’s sorry—”
“SHADDUP!” Hugo roared, her voice repulsive to his ears.
Brie recoiled, shocked, hurt, and afraid.
Hugo turned back to Baz. “And I’m waiting!” he snarled, no longer amused.
“I’m really sorry, Simon!" Baz pleaded. “Please tell Hugo to let me go.” That sounded sincere.
Simon nodded. “Let him go.”
Hugo squeezed tighter instead. Baz screamed. Hugo leaned close, never raising his voice. “Wanna come after me? Go ahead. But if you even look sideways at my friends or family, I’ll kick my boot so far up your ass, you’ll be flossing with my goddamn shoelaces. Are. We. Clear?”
“YES! YES! I’LL DO ANYTHING!” Baz squealed.
Finally, Hugo released him. Baz curled up at his feet, sobbing.
Hugo scanned this crowd once thirsty for Simon’s ass-kicking. Now he drank in their murmured alarm. Brie watched him several feet away, pale green eyes alight with fear.
Hugo smirked. They’ve learned. He turned to Simon, who held his backpack in awe. Striding over, Hugo snatched his bag and strode away. Bystanders hastily parted for his and Simon’s exit.
“That was boss-level AWESOME,” Simon murmured, patting his back.
And for the first time since sophomore year had started, Hugo felt content.
Chapter 32
“I can’t do nothing,” Greyson babbled. ShocKing electrocuting Coach Wendell replayed through his mind. Greyson refused to imagine what might happen to the kids. He paced back and forth in the hospital room. “If I do nothing,” he fretted, gesturing madly. “Those kids could die.”
“Greyson.” Dr. St. Pierre’s calm and measured voice gave him pause.
“Breathe,” the therapist stated. “Look at me.”
Still nervous, Greyson sighed and faced his therapist.
Dr. St. Pierre looked and sounded healthier than a few days ago. But he still seemed pained in bed, wearing hospital clothes too small for his chiseled physique. Even with his casted leg elevated over his bed, St. Pierre commanded the room, especially now that Greyson knew he was the Hurricane. How did I miss that? The parallels were beyond obvious.
Beside St. Pierre in a visitor chair was Letty. The slim black girl had remained glued to a laptop since Greyson arrived, tracking the hostage situation. St. Pierre raised a weary hand to calm Greyson. “I’m so sorry this happened,” he said. “I never wanted any of you to face the evil I fight as Hurricane. I became a therapist after seeing so many supers overwhelmed when their power manifested. They don't get help. Then they turn to crime. Now I’ve failed East St. Louis.”
Greyson waved off the apology. “Not your fault.” He blamed himself more.
Dr. St. Pierre was about to continue when his door opened, startling everyone. A nurse entered. “Hello. I need to check his vitals.”
Letty darted across the room so fast, Greyson could’ve blinked and missed her. “Thank you.” She shoved the nurse back out and slammed the door closed. “Please return later.”
The annoyed nurse pushed the door back open. “Excuse you—”
“I won’t say please again,” Letty snapped, showing teeth. The nurse backpedaled, and the door closed. Letty blocked the entry with a chair for good measure.
Greyson watched fearfully as Letty plopped beside St. Pierre like nothing happened. “What about Sunfox? Timberwolf? Tommy-Gun?” he asked. “Can’t they help?”
The therapist shook his head. “Defusing a gang war in Chicago.”
Greyson had been banking on their help. “I’m alone.” The image of Coach Wendell screaming as ShocKing electrocuted him shifted…to Greyson’s own face. He shivered.
St. Pierre grimaced. “No, you’re not. Call the group. I trained them similarly.”
Greyson’s stomach twisted into pretzel-like knots. “Can’t.”
Letty looked up from her laptop. “Why?”
Greyson shook his head in shame. “How would that look? Refusing to fight Excessive Menace, until it affects me personally.”
St. Pierre’s features darkened. “Don’t let your pride get you and those kids killed.”
Greyson’s face flushed at the truth. “It’s not pride!” He inhaled a gulp of air and continued. “Everyone said no to Tom. And I know the community center layout well. Going alone is easier.” The reality of his task in three-and-a-half-hours smacked him upside the head. Greyson’s knees trembled. He glanced at the hospital room TV. The center was surrounded by OSA agents, local police, and Homeland Security. No communications from inside the facility.
St. Pierre sighed in resignation. “It’ll be you against Excessive Menace. Four on one.”
ShocKing shooting Wendell with electric volts filled Greyson’s head again. He squeezed his eyes shut. “No shit.”
“Your first priority is the hostages.” St. Pierre's intense stare spoke to facing similar scenarios. “If they get caught in the crossfire, then defeating Excessive Menace is a pyrrhic victory.”
Like I don’t know that? Greyson kept that contained with a terse nod.
“That area’s swarming with authorities,” the therapist added grimly. “Many with anti-super weapons.”
Greyson opened his eyes, glowering at him. “Jesus, stop talking me out of this!”
St. Pierre raised both hands in mollifying fashion. “I’m conveying the risks. This will be very difficult, especially alone,” he cautioned with his usual calmness. “You have to levitate over that police barrier to enter the center safely.”
“You’ll need a disguise that protects your identity and you.” Letty popped off the bed, looking Greyson over. “And is easy to move in. Your disguise can't literally be your coffin.”
Greyson blinked. “Good point.” He might know a few places to look.
St. Pierre raised his finger to add another point. “Make sure the disguise isn't anything you'd normally wear. To avoid recognition if you end up on TV.”
“Use cash only to buy your disguise,” Letty added.
Greyson's jaw dropped. This was a lot to remember. Superheroing is hard. His reply was a weak “Right.”
St. Pierre softened. “When my powers first manifested, I didn’t want to be a superhero.” He gestured his hands to emphasize. “Until a friend and better man than me got beaten to death. All for speaking to the wrong guy’s girlfriend.” His eyes glazed over briefly, as if reliving that moment. He focused back on Greyson and smiled. “It started off personal to me too.”
That calmed some of Greyson’s fear. Not much, but enough. He nodded and turned to leave.
“Before you go…here.” Letty rounded the bed, grabbed for her purse, and yanked out a black cellphone. She handed it to Greyson.
He turned the phone over in his shaking hands. “A burner?”
“Call me with this after getting your disguise.”
Letty smiled so brightly, Greyson couldn’t help but grin back. “Why?”
She stopped smiling as if he’d asked the dumbest question on Earth. “You won’t be alone.”
Greyson’s shocked gaze fell on Dr. St. Pierre, who nodded at him warmly. Letty continued. “I’ll tell you where to meet so I can give you a comm device and shades. That way, I’ll see what you see inside the community center. P
lus, I’m getting satellite imaging to find out how many hostages are inside. I’ll be your Eagle Eye.”
“Like she’s been for me,” St. Pierre quipped.
Greyson felt overwhelmed, but in good ways. The mission felt less scary. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“You got three hours,” St. Pierre stated as they shook hands. “Better get going.”
After visiting a sporting store and buying a mix of St. Louis Blues hockey and football player apparel, Greyson made a trip home. Before he got himself killed, Lauren had the right to know. She’d just returned from work when Greyson sat her down and explained his insane plan with the Hurricane’s blessing.
Several moments after, Lauren sat silently, so pretty in her pants suit. Pretty and pale with terror.
“Say something, Laurie,” Greyson pleaded. He had about two hours left and needed to leave.
Lauren looked downward to draw in strength. “Grey…”
“I know it’s dumb and could go terribly wrong.” He knelt before Lauren, grabbing her hands. “I know.” As much as he loved her, nothing would change his mind. “But I have to save those kids—”
“Shut up and let me talk!” Lauren barked.
Greyson shrank back. “Sorry.”
She regained some color before speaking. “This idea sucks for so many reasons. I want you home with me, safe and sound. But I’m not stopping you.” Lauren took his face in her hands, drawing Greyson in until their noses touched. “I want to say how proud I am of your bravery. Just…don’t die.” She gave him two firm pecks on the mouth.
A smile pulled at Greyson’s lips. “Not planning to.” He drank Lauren in again. For that moment, the whole universe melting away, Greyson felt invincible. If he survived tonight, Greyson had to make things official with this amazing woman. He pulled back, gobsmacked by the enormity of his task. “Holy shit, I’m actually doing this.”
“You are.” Lauren’s smile only highlighted her worries. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
Greyson rose as the doorbell rang. He stared at the door, then Lauren. “You expecting anyone?”
She shook her head, also confused. “I’ll get it.”
Greyson waited impatiently in the living room for Lauren to get rid of their visitors. “Grey?” she called from the foyer. “It’s for you.”
Greyson turned around as Lauren led three people into the living room. He gaped.
“Evening, Greyson,” Kathy greeted cheerfully. She, Tom, and Connie all wore matching black tees and track pants. The older woman carried a large shopping bag. “We should talk.”
Greyson couldn't deal with this now. “Bad time, guys. I have to—”
“We know about your stupid plan,” Connie interjected, arms folded indignantly. She gave his living room and Lauren a dispassionate inspection. “Think you’d sneak that by us?”
Greyson bucked his teeth. Fucking Hurricane. He stood firm. “Then you know why I’m doing this.”
“Hence, why we’re joining you,” Tom replied with a megawatt smile.
Lauren gasped in relief. Greyson couldn’t accept this. “Guys, I can’t ask you to—”
“We’re going,” Connie stated decisively. “Just pissed you’d think we’d say no, dumbass!”
Greyson had to laugh at their solidarity. “I appreciate that. From all…” He realized someone was missing. “Where’s Israel?”
Kathy’s frown deepened the age lines on her face. “He’s not coming.”
“He wanted to,” Tom explained. “But felt his powers not being under control would be a liability.”
Connie was less sympathetic. “Coward.”
Kathy scowled at her. “Hey. The man had his reasons.”
“Connie, it’s fine,” Greyson was too overjoyed at this eleventh-hour help to be mad. “Better he stays home if he’s not all in.” He glanced at the clock, and his heart leaped into his throat. “We got less than two hours. But you guys need disguises.”
“Already covered.” Kathy raised her massive shopping bag for Greyson to see. It was filled with sporting gear and hockey masks. Ha! Connie winked at him.
Greyson felt drunk with joy. Standing with his friends who had similar training, this rescue operation might work. “Alright.” He clapped both hands in delight and turned to Lauren. She smiled and drew him into an embrace. When they broke apart, she cast a stern gaze over the others. “Protect each other. And rescue those kids.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tom saluted Lauren for some reason. He was a weird guy.
“Let’s call Letty.” Greyson couldn’t stop smiling when he pulled out the burner phone and made the call. “It’s me. We’re ready.”
Chapter 33
An hour later, Greyson sat with his four teammates packed inside a white van like sardines. They were parked five miles away from the East St. Louis Community Center in an empty parking lot.
Forty minutes remained before Excessive Menace started killing hostages. Greyson, now counting the minutes in his head, was eager to get out and face these supers.
Letty sat in the driver’s seat, typing on her laptop. Everyone else wore St. Louis Blues hockey jerseys with Kevlar vests and football pads underneath. Greyson cast a baffled gaze across the others.
“What are your codenames?” Letty inquired. “To hide your identities.”
Tom brightened like a puppy with a new chew toy. “She’s right.”
Letty rolled her eyes. “Obviously, I’m right.”
“I’m Bravo,” Tom declared, beaming.
Kathy snorted. “Big surprise.” She was trying to get comfortable in this hockey/superhero getup. “Since we’re going NATO phonetic, I’ll be Echo.”
Connie pulled her sleek hair into a ponytail, looking quite cute in her jersey. “Kilo,” she declared.
That left Greyson. The codename Whiskey would seem like he was a drunk. And Hotel? Odd. Then the perfect alias hit him. “Tango.”
Connie side-eyed him. “Tango?”
“Thought we had an O theme,” he replied sheepishly, receiving blank stares. “No?” Greyson blushed and started fidgeting with his outfit. “These football pads are bulky.”
“Better than your hockey pads,” Kathy noted, like a know-it-all mom.
“True.” Greyson decided not to focus on how wrong this could go. “Letty? Update?”
“I see nineteen heat signals inside the main gymnasium,” the young woman announced. “Fifteen baselines. Four supers, as noted by their heat signature onscreen.” She showcased her laptop. The fifteen normal humans were red, the four supers dark reddish.
Greyson swallowed hard, knowing fifteen kids and counselors were at the mercy of terrorists. We’ll get everyone out alive. But that wasn’t his only concern. “What about the authorities?”
Letty switched views on her laptop screen, showing St. Louis PD, OSA, and Homeland Security officers surrounding the center. Connie and Kathy both cursed. Greyson’s heart dropped into his stomach. Those were a lot of officers, armed to the teeth.
“So far, it’s a stand-off,” Letty stated. “They’re also waiting for Hurricane. Three-mile perimeter encircling the community center.” She showcased numerous cone-like metal devices positioned around the buildings. “With power dampening barriers set up should Excessive Menace try leaving.”
Tom’s enthusiasm evaporated. “How do we get in without our powers?”
Letty shrugged at the group’s worries. “Not an issue. The ankle bands I gave out should disable the dampening fields’ effects on you. And mask you from OSA’s scanners.”
Greyson lifted his pants leg, showing the black ankle band Letty handed out when everyone arrived. That alleviated some concerns.
Letty’s eyes widened. “Speaking of which.” She fished through one of her bags, pulling out a choker. “Voice distorter.” Letty handed it to a bemused Greyson. “Masks your voice from the hostages.”
Greyson tried it on and said, “Call me Tango.” Except it was a digitized bass instead of his usual baritone. Every
one laughed.
Connie slapped his knee. “That’s some Darth Vader shit.”
For seriousness's sake, Greyson kept the distorter off until the mission began. The discussion went to strategy and entering the center.
“I teleport us inside so we reach the hostages first,” Tom offered.
That got unanimously vetoed. “Teleporting three people over five miles will be taxing,” Kathy stated.
Tom puffed out his chest, undeterred. “I can do it.”
Greyson refused to risk lives on Tom’s ego. “We need you fresh when we reach the community center. You’ll be teleporting fifteen hostages out quickly, sometimes more than one at a time.”
Letty got the final say. “He’s right, Tom.” She nodded at Greyson approvingly. “Good call.”
With that, Tom backed down.
Greyson, focused on this mission, pretended not to notice Connie’s admiring gaze.
“What about getting in?” Kathy interjected. “I’d rather not fight our way through the authorities.”
Greyson pointed at Letty’s map. “The roof has an outdoor track. We enter from there.”
Letty winced. “OSA tried already. One of the Illusionist’s dragon illusions torched them alive.”
A chill ran through the group. “Jesus,” Kathy said.
Greyson liked this less than anyone. But time was running out, as were their options. “The roof is our safest bet.” With no other suggestions, everyone agreed to Greyson’s way.
“Less than half an hour, guys,” Letty stated after glancing at the clock.
Greyson grabbed his hockey goalie mask to adjust his voice modulator. He was afraid his legs would buckle as he stood up. “Ready?”
“No,” Kathy confessed.
Greyson smiled at her before slipping on his mask. “Me neither.” He moved toward the van exit. Tom, Connie, and Kathy slipped on their masks. Greyson stifled laughter at how everyone looked more like hockey diehards instead of superheroes.
Letty also provided comm devices that fit behind the ear, clear and adhesive.
Cold night air bit at Greyson’s skin when the team stepped outside. Moonlight bathed the near-empty parking lot, hardly chasing away shadows spilling from every corner around them. It was peaceful, sans the distant sound of helicopters and hubbub a few miles away.