by C. C. Ekeke
“Let them go,” Sentinel commanded. “They’re good guys, hard to believe.” Kurt Weston approached with Seraph beside him. He pulled off his helmet, watching Quinn with penetrating blue eyes. “Bauer.”
“Sentinel,” Quinn replied stiffly. Between his treatment of Seraph and disregarding Morningstar’s warnings, she didn’t think much of him anymore.
“Do you know Ramon’s whereabouts?” Concern colored Sentinel’s traditional good looks. “Geist was being Geist and wouldn’t tell.”
That made Quinn like Geist even more. “Ray-Ray’s with Lady Liberty, but I don’t know where.”
The supersoldier nodded in understanding and grasped Quinn’s shoulder. “Thank you.” Quinn saw the fatigue bleeding through his soldier's veneer. “On behalf of the Vanguard, I apologize for Alexis’s actions. And for not believing you.”
Quinn curled her lip, not feeling lenient. “Ignoring women seems like a habit of yours.”
The emotion drained from Sentinel’s face. He removed his hand from her shoulder. Beside him, Seraph’s eyes bulged.
Quinn had plenty more ammo. But kicking Sentinel further felt petty. His team would face a crapstorm after Morningstar’s crimes became public.
She considered her next words carefully. “Do better by your teammates, male or female.”
Sentinel swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”
Quinn had more bad news. “Alexis’s murder plot, Titan’s misogyny, Ramon being Dynamo, all goes in my story.”
Seraph paled and looked away. Anguish spasmed across Sentinel's face. “As it should,” he agreed, turning and walking back to Vulcan, Robbie Rocket, and a bawling Wyldcat.
Seraph approached Quinn, ready to cry. “I…understand,” she murmured, her voice thick. “Just let me tell Kurt first—”
Quinn cut her off with a curt hand wave. “Everything about Morningstar goes public,” she corrected quietly. “Your situation stays between us.”
Seraph stumbled back, aghast. “Why?”
“You’re not the murderer.” Quinn barely voiced her reply before Seraph dragged her into a fierce hug, sobbing gratitude. Quinn patted the angelic hero on the back and endured the hug. Clearly, Seraph needed it more than she did.
The superhero pulled back, thumbing away tears. “Your friend who helped you,” she sniffled. “Alexis said he was Titan reborn?”
Quinn knew where this was headed and shut it down. “The Titan part’s untrue,” she said. “Also, not my story to tell.” Hugo would stay anonymous as long as he chose. But in Quinn’s opinion, the world would be lucky having someone like him protecting it.
Seraph opened her mouth to protest.
Quinn shook her head. “Don’t push, Mikaela.”
Since she wouldn’t budge, Seraph backed down. “Of course.”
Half a dozen OSA agents approaching grabbed their attention. Quinn realized the time for her interrogation had arrived. She should’ve felt more afraid, but after almost dying three times, government questioning didn’t feel so daunting. Still, some non-superhero backup would be nice. “I need to make a call first.”
Seraph nodded. “I’ll handle them.” She moved toward the OSA agents and unfurled her wings to block access to Quinn.
The reporter smiled. Maybe she and Seraph were actually friends. She dialed a number on her cell, which Geist had finally returned after Morningstar's capture.
The caller answered after two rings. “Quinn?”
Quinn closed her eyes, thankful to hear this voice. “Hey.”
“Thank god!” Helena exclaimed. “I thought you were dead!”
The emotion in Helena’s voice caused all the fear, grief, and guilt Quinn had endured bubbling up. Somehow, she held back that emotional tidal wave and stayed collected. “Came close. But we caught Titan’s real killer.”
Helena sucked in a stunned breath. “Who?”
Quinn almost answered but realized Helena might be with Jono. “I’ll tell you in person.” A few feet away, annoyed OSA agents argued with Seraph, blocked by her radiant wingspan. Time to wrap this up. “Then I’ll write an extensive exposé, exclusive to SLOCO Daily,” Quinn promised. “Once OSA finishes questioning me.”
“What do you need, QB?” Helena asked immediately.
“Come here with a lawyer, and SLOCO Daily gets the exclusive on the arrest of Titan’s killer.”
“Done. Text me the address,” Helena responded. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
Those loving words made Quinn’s eyes water with joy. “Me too.”
Chapter 44
Five days passed before Hugo could sleep through the night. He woke up on Monday, confused by this hollow, cold ache deep in his chest. Then Hugo remembered, and felt decimated all over again.
A bizarre mindfuck of a Halloween, the gut-wrenching anniversary of Dad’s death, and memories of Presley lingered over everything.
Music thumping downstairs distracted from Hugo’s misery. Dance music, in the morning. “What the hell?” he grumbled, throwing on a shirt and ambling downstairs.
In the living room, Hugo saw something he hadn’t witnessed in months.
Mom wearing maroon nursing scrubs and AJ wearing PJs, dancing around to bass-heavy music. Three-minute dance party.
Hugo watched them dancing it out, a family tradition started by his father. At the end of a crappy day, Dad turned on music, and the family boogied for three minutes. That had birthed Hugo’s passion for street dancing.
When Dad died, the dancing had died with him.
The bittersweet memory brought a sad smile to Hugo’s face.
Mom and AJ finally noticed him and froze. Everyone stared awkwardly at each other.
Mom’s abrupt hip-shaking shattered the tension, and Hugo choked out laughter. His mother and brother bopped their way to Hugo.
Scratching his tousled hair, Hugo sidestepped his crazy family to reach the kitchen. Mom and AJ kept blocking him with their absurd dancing. With an exasperated sigh, Hugo finally bopped his head side to side. Mom giggled delightedly and pulled her sons into the kitchen to dance together.
Three minutes later, Hugo felt better than he had in days. That inspired him to try something involving an electric razor…
Reactions at school were mixed.
“Why didn't you consult me?” Grace wailed upon seeing him at snack period. “Your hair isn’t Malalou anymore!”
“My last name’s an adjective now?” Hugo replied, bemused.
“Whoa!” Brent demanded. “What happened, brosef??” His disappointment came from growing out his hair to mirror Hugo’s former coif. The results were mediocre due to Brent’s thick curls. But Hugo didn’t have the heart to discourage him.
Other people accepted his buzzcut head.
Simon squinted. “Processing that man pain?”
“Yup.” Hugo nodded.
“I love it, Hugo,” Taylor von Stratton praised, giving his stubbled head a leisurely stroke while passing by. “Any hairstyle works on you.”
Hugo blinked, thanking her. Hot as Taylor was, Presley remained an open wound in his heart.
But Hugo’s haircut became a raindrop in the ocean compared to this past week’s reveal about Morningstar killing Titan. Lord Borealis, now exonerated, was set for release from jail tomorrow. Quinn Bauer was now a household name thanks to breaking this story on SLOCO Daily. And nowhere was Hugo’s name mentioned. Or Geist’s. Hugo’s relief was boundless. He fought back amusement talking to his friends, acting clueless about the story he’d helped shape. Things almost seemed normal again.
But Hugo had no interest in embracing that lie. Time to embrace a new reality.
When lunch started, Hugo ran into Jordana. She was in a foul mood, stomping through the halls ready to beat someone down. “You alright?”
Jordana saw him and her anger dissipated with a heavy sigh. “I bombed my geometry test.” The curvy girl shoved her test in Hugo’s face. C-minus.
He winced, studying the marked-up paper. “You got Mr. T
ilden too?”
“Second period.” Jordana’s smile tightened. She tossed back her wavy up-down styled locks. “How’d you do?”
Hugo snorted. “Aced it!” He did a dorky shoulder shimmy, feeling himself. Personal drama aside, Hugo kept his grades up.
“Boy...who sent you?” Jordana snapped, Bronx accent thick. "Stop touchdown dancing like it’s ya birthday!”
Hugo flinched from her venom. “Why you so mean, Jodie?”
Jordana glowered, hands on hips, pure fire. “Did I punch you? Did I stab you? Then, no, I’m not being mean.”
Hugo gulped. “I think we’ve got different meanness thresholds."
Jordana couldn’t help giggling. This girl, fifty-percent savage, fifty-percent sweetness. And Hugo was one-hundred-percent smitten.
“I’m usually good at math,” Jordana continued soberly. “But geometry’s killing me. And a bad grade there tanks my GPA.” Panic fluttered across her face.
Hugo felt for her. “I’ll tutor you,” he offered.
Jordana’s eyes widened. “Bad idea, hun."
Hugo almost kicked himself. Of course they couldn’t study together, given who Jordana’s BFF was. Hos before bros. “No idea what you mean,” he deadpanned.
That won nervous laughter from Jordana. Her laugh was lovely.
“Seriously.” Hugo leaned closer, in the mood for risk. Anything to fill his empty heart. “If you need math help, I'm here.”
Jordana gazed back, resolve wavering. Until something startled her behind Hugo. He followed Jodie’s gaze, finding two other Sinister Six members. Spencer Michelman, looking economy model pretty, wore her usual hostility and dark preppy apparel. Beside her was petite Lia Kim, her fluid locks in a ponytail, wearing a budget knockoff of something Brie had worn first.
Brie’s pit-bull and her lapdog, Hugo mused as both girls glared at him in silence.
Spencer especially looked ready to spit cobra venom at his face.
Hugo winked back. She blushed and averted her eyes.
Jordana grimaced. “Bye, Hugo. And thanks.”
As she scurried off with her friends to the quad, Hugo heard the ensuing tongue-lashing.
“What the hell are you doing?” Spencer demanded rudely.
“Talking to a friend,” Jordana retorted. “Try it and you’d have more of them.”
“Talking?” Spencer scoffed. “You were drooling all over him.”
“You know how Brie gets about you talking to him,” Lia chided, like Hugo was Voldemort or something.
“Breezy needs to chill the fuck out,” Jordana threw back, out of patience. “And, Spence? Quit being such a never-ending asshole to Hugo.”
Hugo guffawed. He appreciated Jordana’s independent streak. Brie had gone full mean girl since Fall Fling, dark side fully embraced, demanding blind obedience from her minions. She now ignored Hugo whenever they crossed paths, though her heartbeat always skyrocketed in alarm. Hugo had clearly scared her off at Fall Fling. Good riddance, he decided.
A familiar breathing pattern loomed. Hugo turned as Simon approached, headphones slung around his neck. “Flirting with Jordana Buchanan?”
Hugo snickered at the insinuation. “Talking doesn’t always equal flirting.” As sexy as Jordana was, nothing could happen. Too much potential drama.
“Suuuure,” Simon mocked. Hugo immediately wanted to smack him.
With that, they headed off-campus to the nearby Beach Bum Burger. Lunches had grown crowded since Hugo began hanging with his dance crew again. Students were bundled up thanks to today’s windy, overcast weather. Hugo barely felt any chill through his snug, long-sleeved white tee and dark jeans. “What’s the latest with G-Mama?” he asked.
When Hugo last checked, Simon had planned to make his move at Fall Fling. Then the Baz thing happened. Hugo’s insides coiled in remorse over cockblocking his friend and the injuries to Baz, DeDamien, and TJ. All three were at home recovering while their parents prepared to sue Paso High. Hugo pushed those dark thoughts down, focusing on Simon.
“I went to Grace’s place last week,” his friend explained, “showing her my comedy website SoundsCoolerinJapanese.com. She started giving feedback, looking super sexy, and so I kissed her.”
Hugo beamed. “That’s great!” At least one of them had a steady girlfriend.
Simon wasn’t as enthused. “And she kissed me back. Then Grace just smiled and kept critiquing my blog like nothing happened.”
Disappointment staggered Hugo. “Whaaa?”
Simon nodded, validated by the reaction. “I was so baffled, I didn’t mention it the rest of the night.” He sighed angrily. “Then an hour after I left, Grace texts saying she loved kissing and hanging out. But she'd rather stay friends.”
“Damn,” Hugo griped as they reached Beach Bum Burger. “I like G-Mama, but she’s an odd duck.”
“I love that odd duck,” Simon sulked.
Hugo felt for his discouraged friend. “I know.” He also knew why Grace had rejected Simon. But leaking that could be problematic. “When a girl says she’s not interested, move on,” Hugo said, entering the restaurant. “Trust me.”
Hugo had been jonesing for Beach Bum Burger all day, the juicy meat aroma making his mouth water.
They reached a blessedly short takeout line when Hugo spotted a familiar face. “Simon, grab our order? I’ll be back.”
He weaved through tables toward a super-cute young woman sitting alone near a window, wearing a blue blouse, dark sports coat, and jeans, her kinky afro held back by a red headband. One of the most famous faces in the country, and no one here recognized her. Reading her phone, she didn’t see Hugo until he stood beside her. “Hello.”
Quinn Bauer looked up and beamed in recognition. “Oh, hi!” She popped to her feet and hugged him. “What brings you here?” she gushed once they’d separated.
“Lunch.” Hugo jabbed a thumb at the exit. “I attend high school nearby.”
“Right.” Quinn facepalmed. “Keep forgetting that ‘cause you look twenty-five.”
Hugo chuckled and glanced at Simon getting their food. “Feel like I’ve seen you everywhere.” Days after Morningstar’s arrest, Quinn’s exposé on Titan’s murder still dominated the news cycle. The reporter had done dozens of interviews, unanimously declared a hero. Hugo was fine with her getting complete credit. “Your SLOCO Daily piece was excellent.”
Quinn’s smile warmed. “Thanks. I’ll be happy when these interviews die down.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
Hugo's cheeks burned. “Thanks for keeping me anonymous.”
“Absolutely.” Quinn looked intrigued. “What’s the plan for your…talents?”
Hugo caught her meaning, glancing around. “I’m not taking them to South Beach.” They both laughed.
“I’ll stay local,” he murmured. “Help those in need.” Admitting this felt weird, but thrilling.
Quinn looked pleased. “Great.” She fished through her purse. “If you ever need help, discreet or otherwise…” She handed him a business card. “Call or text me.”
Hugo examined the smooth card, then stuffed it into his wallet. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
When Simon approached carrying their delicious-smelling food, Hugo exchanged farewells with Quinn.
“Did you tell that reporter chick what I think you did?” Simon probed as they headed back to school.
Hugo nodded, unable to stop smiling. He’d planned on telling Simon later. “After Fall Fling, Morningstar, Halloween, and…Presley.” Hugo cleared his throat, pushing past the flashing pain. “I can’t stay on the sidelines.” Hugo listened casually to the city surrounding them. So many people needed help, even with San Miguel’s police and patron heroes around. “Titan was a misogynist asshole, but he helped people with his gifts.” Hugo sighed heavily. “And San Miguel needs me.” Especially since the Vanguard was getting destroyed daily on every news outlet after Quinn’s exposé.
Simon watched him
through narrowed eyes. “Are we celebrating or grim-dark brooding?”
“Celebrating.”
Simon leaped for joy. “Yes!”
“With your inside voice,” Hugo hissed through clenched teeth.
Simon winced. “Sorry. Yay!” he whisper-yelled.
“I’m doing it right this time. Can you help a brother out?”
Simon looked offended. “Do bears shit in the woods?” His happiness dimmed. “What about Lady Liberty?”
Hugo grimaced, still afraid, but refused to hide behind that excuse. “Fuck Lady Liberty,” he snarled.
“If she’s willing!” Simon cackled impishly.
“Shaddup.” Hugo laughed. His heart might never fully heal. But a new purpose was a welcome salve. Paso High’s buildings loomed closer. “After school, AJ and I are buying a police scanner. Then, we strategize.”
Simon lit up. “I’m there.”
"Awesome," Hugo crowed, fist-bumping him. He couldn’t do this without Simon. “Cuz we got work to do.”
Chapter 45
Quinn smiled, watching Hugo and his short friend with the Bruce Lee bowl cut leave. She was happy to have been wrong about him.
“I hope he can help San Miguel,” Quinn murmured to herself, heading to order some food.
Four days had passed since her SLOCODaily.com exposé got published. The four-part piece, co-bylined with Helena Madden, detailed Alexis Refel’s rise and fall. Part One: her origins as a local Buenos Aires hero and discovery by the Vanguard. Part Two: her Vanguard reserve team tenure and her relationship with Titan. Part Three: Alexis’s plot to murder Titan. Part Four: Alexis’s ascension onto the Vanguard’s main roster and arrest.
Quinn made sure Alexis remained the story’s center, save for points where her own life had been threatened. Helena had been helpful there.
Reader response had briefly crashed SLOCO Daily's site the day the exposé dropped.
Quinn had seen the consequences. The trial of Morningstar, currently at Alakanuk supermax, was being fast-tracked. Yet even imprisoned, Alexis Refel had emerged victorious.
Titan remained popular and revered, but his legacy was forever tainted. Yesterday’s anti-Titan protests in cities like San Miguel, Washington DC, Toronto and London proved that. Several Titan sculptures were defaced or even pulled down. Considerations for a national Titan Day were shelved. Worse was the pervasive despair Quinn had noticed in San Miguel, different than after Titan’s death. This pall came from a splintering faith in superheroes.