Reborn (Supervillain Rehabilitation Project Book 3)

by H. L. Burke

  Gotcha.

  With a grin, he bolted back into the wall of white vapor. Ignoring the pain of the heat on his skin, he splashed through the water and landed behind Wildfyre.

  Wildfyre spun to face him. Fade pulled his powers out of his hand and swung.

  His knuckles impacted sharply on his opponent’s chin. Wildfyre grunted and dropped to his knees. The heat around them puffed out like an extinguished candle flame. Fade grabbed Wildfyre by one arm and wrenched it behind his back. Wildfyre screamed in pain.

  “Easy!” he barked.

  “We done?” Fade asked.

  Wildfyre’s face darkened. “Hardly.” Pure heat gusted from him.

  Fade quailed, quickly ghosting to escape the searing heat. Unwilling to release Wildfyre, he extended his fade into the other sable.

  Wildfyre cringed as a wave slapped through both men. “All right, gonna play it that way,” he hissed. “Try this.”

  Wildfyre threw his free hand out in front of him in a sweeping arc. A ring of flame encircled the men, hovering right over the water. The wall of fire grew higher, spinning around them. The water evaporated to steam. Fade grunted in pain as the overheated air mingled with the molecules of his faded body. He needed to get out of there.

  He dropped his hold on Wildfyre and staggered towards the beach. The air choked his lungs, too hot for him to absorb. Panic spiked within him. Even when faded, he needed to breathe.

  His entire being screaming for air, he made one last attempt to free himself from the scorching atmosphere. He stumbled a few more steps then hit the sand on his hands and knees. He inhaled but choked on the infernal heat. His vision swam, blurred to gray, then crashed down on him in a wall of black.

  “Fade! Fade! Wake up! Oh crap, oh crap.”

  He pried one eye open as the figures of multiple Wildfyre’s hovered over him. The images converged into a single Wildfyre, his eyes wide, mouth drawn.

  “Ouch.” Fade put his hand to his head. He took in a breath and tasted cool ocean air. Man, he’d never take air for granted again. He dropped his hand to the ground. The pineapple still lay beside him ... which technically meant he hadn’t lost, but damn, he definitely hadn’t won either. “Was I out long?”

  “Half a minute, maybe. Are you all right?” Wildfyre reached for Fade’s neck, probably to check for a pulse, but Fade batted him away.

  “Sprained my pride, but I’ll be fine.” He managed to sit up, ignoring the way the beach rocked beneath him. Blisters spotted the back of his hands. “I’ve actually been told my healing factor is high even for a sable. Once breathed in most of a room full of poison gas and lived through it.” He massaged the space between his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, though. I didn’t mean to take it that far. I guess—I don’t like hurting people, you know? Even when I was a villain, that wasn’t who I was.” Wildfyre hung his head. “Do you ... do we have to tell Prism about this? If she knows I almost killed her husband—”

  “First off, I’m fine. Second, this was the whole point to the training exercise.” Fade lurched to his feet.

  Wildfyre likewise stood, eyeing Fade as if afraid he might topple over again.

  Fade considered him. “You’re the first sable I’ve met in a long time who could take me down one-on-one. I’m ... not sure how I feel about it.”

  Wildfyre balked. “Not the best impression I could make, I guess.”

  “In some ways, it is. I mean, DOSA is going to drool when they find out they’ve got a sable with those sorts of offensive capabilities willing to work for them rather than against them.” Fade dusted the sand off his jeans. “Don’t get too big an ego about it, though. The only other sable I know who could probably beat me is a fifteen-year-old girl, and I’d bet a year’s pay she could take you down just as easily, teen or not.”

  “Super powers are a great equalizer that way.” Wildfyre sniffed.

  Fade scooped up the pineapple and nodded in the direction of the parking area. “I think that’s enough for one day. Let’s go.”

  They stopped halfway up the beach to reclaim the duffle bag. Fade slipped his hand into his pocket. The cold metal of the disruptor anklet seemed to chill his fingers. He pulled it out. “Look, as a former SVR subject myself, I hate to do this to you—”

  “No, I get it.” Wildfyre extended his leg. “It’s what I signed up for.”

  Fade quickly snapped the anklet in place. “Hopefully you can earn your way out of it. I sometimes worry that Prism is a little too trusting with her charges, but for you that’s good news.”

  “I guess. The anklet isn’t a big deal. I kind of see it as penance for some of the less than admirable choices I’ve made over the course of my life.” Wildfyre sighed.

  Fade cast him a side-eye. His skepticism went into overload. This guy couldn’t be real, could he?

  Prism trusts him, and yeah, she can be naive and ridiculously optimistic, but she also hasn’t steered me wrong yet.

  When they reached the car, Fade stowed the duffle bag in the back seat before slipping behind the steering wheel. He reclaimed his phone from the glovebox as Wildfyre settled into the passenger seat.

  Fade squinted at the screen. “Looks like I missed some sort of DOSA bulletin.” He selected the notification. It contained several attached photos, a large text file he’d wait until they got home to download so he could view it on a bigger screen, and a quick summary that his gaze flicked over, absorbing pertinent information.

  “Anything to be worried about?” Wildfyre messed with the recline settings on his car seat before leaning back, arms behind his head.

  “Update on the DOSA location that got hit. They’re expanding the subject search nationwide, but the descriptions and images of the villains aren’t great. No identities or previously known crimes. That has to be wrong, though. This team is too good to be made up of newbies.” Fade considered Wildfyre. “The descriptions range from ‘probably a white male of slight build’ to ‘we have no idea what this guy looks like under this hood’ levels of vague. You were in the business fairly recently. Want to see if any of these power combinations ring a bell?” He handed Wildfyre the phone.

  Wildfyre flicked his finger across the screen, scrolling through the images. “They think this guy is the one with the knockout powers?” He pointed to the smaller man with the scraggly beard.

  “Seems like that’s their best guess,” Fade replied. “Those sorts of powers often aren’t flashy, so it could be someone standing behind him, but he did lead the entry team.”

  “You’re right. Powers strong enough to put out an entire building of personnel aren’t the sort of thing that would go unnoticed, but I’ve never heard of anyone with that level of ability. Maybe it’s some sort of new tech instead?”

  “Could be. Hard to tell a tech-enhanced normie from a true sable these days.”

  Wildfyre selected the next image, and the phone dropped to his lap.

  Fade sat up straighter. “You see something?”

  Wildfyre’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He gingerly picked up the phone again and examined the picture. It was one of the worst, the image right before the security cameras had gone down. Techs had obviously done their best to enhance it since the first version Fade had seen, but even with that, there wasn’t much to go on.

  “No. I just ... it’s nothing.” Wildfyre returned the phone to Fade, not even bothering to look through the rest of the image.

  “Huh.” Fade scanned the security image. The guy’s face was completely hidden, but his extended hand bore a darker skin tone than his compatriot. Definitely not white, but not nearly as dark as Fade or Tanvi. Somewhere in the billions of shades between—again, not very helpful.

  Wait, what’s that?

  Fade pinched his fingers against the screen then widened them to zoom in on the man’s wrist. “He’s got some sort of tattoo here I didn’t see mentioned in the description. Probably because it’s too blurry to see exactly what it is. Some lines. Maybe a set of bars? Vines or wires?”


  “Yeah, couldn’t really tell for sure either.” Wildfyre angled towards the window.

  Fade tilted his head to one side before placing his phone in his pocket and inserting the key into the ignition. He knew the internal conflict the idea of betraying former cohorts could cause. He’d been there. Every SVR recruit ever had to face the possibility of facing off against villains they’d once worked alongside, but somehow the cold bloodedness of identifying them in lineups and squealing about their past crimes or current hideouts felt so much worse than a hot blooded fight between two equals on different sides of the legality line. Still, if Wildfyre wanted to join the team, he needed to get over it fast.

  Fade opened his mouth then shut it again.

  If I were in his shoes, if I were pushed, I’d only double down and shut up even more. Guy needs to know I’m not buying this, though.

  “You know for a villain, you’re not a very good liar,” Fade mumbled, just loud enough he was sure Wildfyre could hear it.

  Wildfyre winced but didn’t so much as look at Fade.

  When they got back to headquarters, Wildfyre disappeared into his room while Fade went looking for Prism. He found her sitting in one of the conference rooms, staring somberly at her laptop screen.

  He pulled up a chair beside her.

  “How’d the training go?” she asked, not even looking up.

  “Fine.” He laid his hand on her knee.

  She smiled then gasped. “You’re hurt!” She lifted his hand for an inspection. “Burns?”

  He pulled away. “They aren’t bad. Wildfyre’s intense, though.”

  “Oh, I know, and so does DOSA.” Prism scanned her husband, probably checking for other signs of injury. “You should’ve seen the way the Adjudicator’s eyes lit up when I explained Wildfyre had volunteered for the SVR. Like a kid with a shiny new toy.” She sighed. “For the first time, he didn’t argue with me taking on a new subject, though he did try to mess with Wildfyre’s plea deal.”

  “Of course he did.” Fade turned towards her laptop. She immediately minimized whatever it was she was working on so that all that was visible was her desktop with the “basket of kittens” wallpaper she’d used for as long as he’d known her. Something within him tightened.

  Not like Lucia to be hiding things from me.

  “So, did you get what you hoped to out of the training session?” she asked.

  “Yes and no,” he said, going along with the obvious effort to redirect his attention. “I’ve got a better handle on his abilities but—” He shrugged. “I need more practice if I want to be sure I can overpower him if the worst case scenario happens and he goes rogue.”

  Prism’s eyes widened. “Did he beat you?”

  “It was a friendly training match, not a competition.” Fade frowned.

  A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “So, to be sure I have this straight, if you come out on top, it was a competition and you’ve won. If you get your butt kicked, it was all just training and doesn’t really count?”

  He laughed in spite of himself. “Yes. Exactly.” He traced the tip of his finger down the bridge of her nose then grew grim again. “I’m still a little worried, though. I think you’re right. I think he’s sincere about wanting to join the team, but he’s holding out on us.”

  “Trust isn’t earned over night, and while, yes, as his new team members it might take us a while to trust him, it does go both ways. It might be some time until he’s upfront with us about everything. Do you remember how cynical Alma was of the process when we had her here?”

  “Yeah, and I guess she turned out all right—though there was the whole ‘got you and Tanvi captured by her former supervillain boss’ thing,” he pointed out.

  “Everyone makes mistakes,” Prism said.

  “Yeah, but I prefer mistakes that don’t involve my wife getting tied up, injured, or potentially killed.” He pulled her out of her chair and onto his lap. He rested his palm against her stomach. “I can’t help it. As long as I have all this to protect, I’m going to be paranoid.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she whispered. She nestled into him.

  Fade held her for a moment before his attention returned to the laptop. What was she hiding?

  He wavered for a moment before reaching out and tapping the touchpad.

  “Hey!” She grabbed his wrist. Too late. A folder full of pictures popped onto the screen.

  Realization flooded through Fade followed quickly by shame for his own meddling. “Oh, Luce—”

  Even from the thumbnails, it was obvious that every single picture in the folder was of Aiden.

  Prism hung her head.

  “I can’t stop thinking about last night. I know it wasn’t real, but it ripped me open all over again, Fade.”

  “I understand, believe me.” He drew her closer. “Why were you hiding it, though?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to think I was in here looking at photos of my dead brother all morning even if that’s what I was doing.” She nestled into him. “I thought you’d assume it was just making things worse, but I needed some memories of happy Aiden to chase the horror of him screaming for help in my nightmares away.”

  “Again, I understand.” He kissed her forehead. “I shouldn’t have taken off with Wildfyre today. I should’ve been smart enough to know that after last night you’d need me.” He gazed into her red-rimmed eyes. “Do you want to talk about it? About him?”

  She nodded. “I know I make a big deal about the important events, the milestones he’s not here for. It ached that he wasn’t at our wedding. It’s like a constant, unfulfillable hunger in my gut that he’ll never meet our daughter, but it’s the little moments, the everyday things.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “It was the months of walking into the game room expecting to see the back of his head as he played his video games. It’s the times when I know exactly what sardonic quip he’d make at any given moment during one of our team meetings. How he used to grumble when I left our shared workspaces cluttered.” Her shoulders hitched in a quiet sob.

  Fade rubbed her shoulders waiting for her to continue.

  “But almost worse is when I wake up and realize I haven’t thought about him for a few days, when nothing was there to remind me of him, to keep that space in my heart that he occupied open.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I don’t want to always grieve Aiden, but I also don’t want to forget Aiden, to have him become a distant memory or an idea that doesn’t influence my life. It’s like I vacillate between fearing that it will always hurt and fearing that it will stop.”

  Fade ran his fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry.” He peered over her shoulders at the pictures of her and her brother. “Do you think telling me about him would help? Not about how much it hurt to lose him, it seems like that’s all we ever say about Aiden anymore, but the good times? Those little things that you miss so much?”

  She gave an unconvincing laugh. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  Leaning around her, he tapped the first image to expand it. A teenaged Prism and similarly young Aiden stood before a front door decorated in pumpkins and orange fairy lights. Aiden wore a green tunic and Prism a purple gown.

  “You want to tell me about this one?” He pulled the laptop closer.

  She turned around in his lap and looked at the screen. Another laugh, genuine this time, escaped her. “That was the last year he agreed to go trick or treating with me. After that he decided he was too mature or something. We went as Zelda and Link from the video game. He loved his foam sword so much. Even trying to pretend he was only dressing up for the candy, I would catch him waving it around and hacking at bushes when he thought no one was looking.”

  Fade kissed her cheek and clicked for the next photo, this one Aiden on a beach, scrawny, sunburnt, and gripping a surfboard that looked like he could barely hold it up. “Him surfing, obviously.”

  “That was the day Dad decided he was going to teach us both. I never rea
lly got into it, but after that, whenever Dad was free from work and the weather was right, him and Aiden would be out there.” She blinked away tears. “I’m glad they got that time together. Thinking that they’re together again—it makes things not so bad. Still rotten, but not so much.”

  After a few minutes of silence, she pried herself from his arms. “Oh, and did you see the news?”

  “You mean the DOSA bulletin about the east coast attack?” he asked, standing up beside her.

  “No, though we should probably have a meeting just to make sure everyone knows what’s going on there. Keeper can be bad about not reading files on his phone and Yui and Wildfyre don’t even have phones.” She worked her fingers into her lower back then turned to face the laptop. “I meant this.” She clicked to her email and brought up a DOSA memo.

  Fade scanned it. “So it’s official? Glint’s getting the committee position?”

  “I think they’ve already done a press conference. I’m sure he jumped at the offer as soon as it was made.”

  “Makes sense,” Fade said.

  “DOSA’s ready for some new blood. I’m kind of glad they’ve got Glint in there,” Prism said, her voice weary.

  “Any regrets over not taking it first?” Fade came up behind her and caressed her shoulders.

  “No, this is where I belong.” She smiled. “Speaking of where I belong, you want to text the team and tell them to meet me in the second floor conference room in a half hour? We’ll do a quick overview of the east coast attackers—I also want to check in on Tanvi. Last night was rough for her too.”

  “It was rough for all of us, but you the most. Remember, we’re all here for you.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I couldn’t have a better support system.”

  She left the room, but Fade lingered, fiddling with his phone rather than sending out the text. After her strange nightmare and Wildfyre’s caginess, his instincts screamed at him that something bad was about to go down. Something with Prism right in the crosshairs. Well, as long as he was there to step between her and danger, bring it on.