Reborn (Supervillain Rehabilitation Project Book 3)

by H. L. Burke

  Prism let out a breath. Maybe this wouldn’t end in a fight ...

  The Adjudicator pulled himself up to his full height. “Respect has to be earned, Curran, and it’s not something either a criminal like you or a naive, entitled little brat like your wife merit by a long shot.”

  Fade’s expression darkened. “You think you merit respect? More than Prism?”

  “I’m at the top of DOSA for a reason—”

  Prism bit back a cry of protest as Fade leaned closer to the Adjudicator, dark eyes flashing.

  “I have never met anyone I respect less than you. You think you’re the end-all, be-all, but take it from someone who was there when Talon offered Kevin Powell the position you now hold,” Fade’s tone dropped to a menacing growl. “You only have your job because a better man than you turned it down.”

  Alma put her hand over her mouth, covering a grin. Prism’s insides, however, still roiled.

  The Adjudicator bristled. “Kevin Powell didn’t have the nerve to join the committee—”

  “No, that’s where you’re wrong. Prism’s dad didn’t turn down the committee seat because he lacked ambition or initiative or whatever crap you’ve convinced yourself you possess that makes you better than the rest of us. He did so because he knew he was doing more good for DOSA with the SVR than you’ll do for it in your entire career of bullying and bureaucracy.” Fade seemed to grow taller as he loomed over the Adjudicator. “And you should be grateful there are still people like him in DOSA, people like Prism who care more about doing the right thing and standing up for what this department really means than they do about political power and prestige appointments.” Fade jabbed a finger at the Adjudicator who shrank back. “Because if you didn’t have people like my wife backing you up, Frank, you would’ve sunk DOSA years ago, and yourself along with it.”

  The Adjudicator’s eyes sparked. “Watch yourself, Curran—”

  “It’s Powell, and no, you watch yourself. I’m serious. I don’t give a damn about my status in DOSA, so I have nothing to lose here. You, however?” Fade’s lips curled into a sneer. “How do you think your reputation will hold up if they find out you’re a bully who picks on pregnant women for fun but whines for backup and threatens legal action the moment someone calls you out on it?”

  The Adjudicator glowered and pushed his way around Fade. “I don’t have time for this.” He left the hallway, slamming the door behind him.

  Prism’s shoulder muscles relaxed. Thank God that ended before anyone got hurt.

  Alma started to slow clap. “Awesome, Fade! I mean, would’ve been better if you’d actually gotten to punch his lights out, but verbally smacking that jerk into place? Yes, please.”

  Prism approached her husband. “You didn’t have to do that, you know?”

  “I wanted to do that, and not just for you.” He drew her into an embrace. “I know you can handle yourself, but—”

  “No, you don’t need to justify it.” She squeezed him back. “I’m too entrenched in DOSA to risk telling him what I think, but if I weren’t, I would’ve years ago. For a minute I was worried, but you didn’t take it too far, and it served its purpose. Actually it was ... really sexy.” She ended on a quaking laugh.

  He gave a pleasant, humming chuckle and bent down to kiss her.

  “Oh, come on, guys, you already made a baby!” Alma groaned. “Don’t make me watch this.”

  Fade winked at Prism and pulled her in for a deeper kiss, sweeping her off the ground in spite of her added baby-bulk. She gripped his shirt and leaned into it. Her hold on him tightened as his lips brushed from her mouth to her neck before he slowly lowered her back to the floor.

  “We should probably get back to our table,” she whispered. “They’re going to start serving soon, and I want to at least eat on DOSA’s dime tonight.”

  “Good point.” He took her hand, and together they walked back to Alma.

  “I can’t wait to tell Melodica about this,” Alma said as she opened the door to the banquet hall. “You’re not the only one who hates the Adjudicator. In fact, I don’t think I’ve met a sable yet who likes the guy—”

  Prism stepped into the banquet hall. A murmur swept the room, and she tensed. What was that?

  Her attention snapped to the gathered sables. At the far end of the room, a group of them slumped over their tables, then the guests at the next line of tables likewise fell. Some of them stumbled to their feet, but too late. Like a wave moving across the room, sable after sable collapsed where they stood.

  Prism’s hold on her husband’s hand tightened. “Fade! What’s going on?”

  Chapter Seven

  Prism fell back as the various guests continued to pass out before her. Fade’s hand shot out and clamped down on Alma’s arm, yanking her to his side. Prism’s knees weakened as a strange, prickling energy probed at her brain. Fade’s powers swelled around her. The hum of his abilities pushed back the foreign energy, and she stood straight again.

  Alma cowered against Fade. “What’s going on?”

  Prism scanned the banquet hall. Everyone lay still. Dead? Unconscious?

  “I don’t know,” she stammered. “Whatever it is, it looks like Fade’s powers protect us from it.”

  Fade gave a brief nod. “Some sort of mind-based attack.”

  Alma’s gaze flicked to the table where Melodica now lay, slouched across her place setting. “Are they dead?” she whimpered.

  “I don’t think so. The power kind of reminded me of Aiden’s sleep move—” Fade cast his wife an apologetic look.

  “Except he couldn’t do that without touching the person, and he was never powerful enough to do—this.” Prism indicated the crowd, shrugging off the grief her brother’s name evoked. “Whatever it is, we’re too exposed. We need to find out what’s going on before whoever did this realizes that they missed us.”

  “Shouldn’t we try to wake them up?” Alma whispered, still focused on Melodica.

  “We’ll do them more good finding out the source of the attack.” Prism considered the space. “Stay close to Fade. I don’t feel the energy any more, but if they do whatever that was again, we’ll want to be ghosted.”

  “Step back through the wall with me,” Fade said. He gently guided them both. Prism quivered at the sensation of her body mingling with the sheetrock before they were free of it and in the hallway again. Fade released them. “Do you have your phone?”

  She scrunched her nose. “It’s in my purse back at the table.”

  He fished in his pocket. “I’ve got mine, but I don’t have the numbers for any east coast sables to call in for backup.”

  “I know the general DOSA emergency line by heart.” Prism took the phone from him then hesitated. “But what if they’re monitoring cell phone activity?”

  “Worth the risk. We don’t know what we’re facing here, but whatever it is just took down a room full of the top DOSA sables.” Fade’s mouth tightened.

  Alma fidgeted, hopping off the floor and hovering in the air. “I don’t like it here. We can’t see what’s going on. What if something happens to ... to everyone?”

  Prism keyed in the number. “Melodica will be okay, Alma. We just need to get help.”

  Alma’s fists clenched. “I can’t lose another mother, Prism. I can’t. We need to hurry.”

  Prism punched send.

  “DOSA Emergency Response. Identify yourself,” a woman on the other end answered.

  “This is Prism, AKA Lucia Powell calling from the Lee Center. We have a possible sable villain attack at the ceremony. Someone used some sort of psychic powers to put the entire banquet hall under. I don’t think they’re in danger, just unconscious, but I’m not sure, and we don’t have eyes on the attackers.”

  On the other end, the operator drew in a sharp breath. “Understood. Accessing Lee Center security cameras now. The system recognizes the device you are calling from as DOSA issued. Can I patch you into the live feed?”

  “Yes, please.” P
rism’s muscles relaxed—slightly.

  The other two crowded around her as the screen flipped to a video feed first of the lobby, which was empty other than an unconscious doorman drooped over his podium, then the dining hall revealing what they’d already seen, dozens of sleeping sables. Prism bit her bottom lip, scanning the edges of the hall for any sign of attackers. The screen cycled through several more feeds of hallways, kitchens, and backstage areas before finally the images changed to what appeared to be a loading dock somewhere behind the center.

  “There!” Prism jabbed her finger at the screen. “Can you hold it on this camera?”

  “Roger. I see it too,” the operator responded.

  A white panel van with some sort of corporate logo on the side sat before the entrance. Three figures in dark hooded coats approached the door. A slight blue glow seeped through one of them, as if he were lit from inside.

  “That’s the team from the evidence warehouse heist that happened a few months ago.” Fade frowned. “What do they want here?”

  One of the figures, a bulky fellow easily as tall as Fade, kicked the metal doors. They crumpled inward like paper.

  “Super strength,” Alma noted. “I can take him down, no problem. They always underestimate me.” She cracked her knuckles.

  Prism put her hand on the teen’s arm. “Easy. We know at least one of them has some sort of mind powers. Don’t go rushing in blind.”

  “I’m not stupid.” Alma sniffed.

  The strongman hefted a bulky black box almost as large as he was out of the back of the van and carried it on his shoulders towards the now open door.

  The villains started into the building.

  “Where does that doorway lead?” Prism asked.

  “Pulling up building plans now.” The tapping of computer keys echoed through the line as the feed switched again, rapidly this time, scanning through a series of inner hallways before stopping on a feed that showed the invading villains tramping deeper into the center.

  “Where are they going?” Prism murmured. “That’s not leading towards any public area.”

  “We need to do something!” Alma punched one hand into the palm of the other.

  “Deep breath. We need to know what we’re getting into,” Fade cautioned.

  “We advise you not to take any action. A DOSA response team will be at your location within ten minutes,” the operator advised.

  “We are a frickin’ DOSA response team!” Alma moaned. “Dios mio, I can take down three wimpy villains.”

  “It looks like they’re heading to the basement staff area,” the operator said.

  Prism frowned. “That doesn’t seem like it would be much of a target.” A notification pinged, and she clicked it. A copy of the building plans popped up in front of her.

  Fade gave a low whistle. “It’s right under the banquet hall. Luce, I don’t like this. We need to get that room cleared.”

  Prism returned to the feed. The strong man set the black box in the center of an empty room and flipped it open revealing a device with a red count down read out.

  “Oh crap! Bomb!”

  “That’s it!” Alma growled. She zipped to the ceiling then slammed to the floor, a blast of energy preceding her. Prism huddled against Fade. When she looked up, there was a hole in the floor and no Alma.

  “Alma, no!” Prism cried.

  “Damn kid!” Fade grunted. “I’m going after her.”

  “Not without me,” Prism protested.

  He glanced at her stomach, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening.

  She pushed away her own fear for their baby. “I’ll be fine, Fade. We look out for each other. We’re a family, and we’re doing this together.”

  “Okay, but please, be careful.” He gripped her wrist. His powers flooded through her, lightening her entire being. She sank through the floor with him, and together they landed softly in a back hallway on the floor below. Her toes flexed into the industrial style carpet.

  Great, I’m literally about to fight supervillains barefoot and pregnant. I must be nuts.

  “Please, our recommendation is that you evacuate the premises and wait for the bomb squad—” the operator continued. Prism hit the mute button but kept the live feed of the ongoing heist up on her phone. The villains seemed to be done with their set up and were now heading out the door.

  Crash!

  The wall behind the villains exploded, shaking the room. The camera flickered, but the feed continued a moment later. A blast of energy radiated from the gap in the wall and all three of the villains hurtled towards the opposite side of the room like paper dolls caught in a hurricane. Alma flew into the room, made a rude gesture, and hoisted the bomb over her head as if it were nothing. She zoomed away, out of the camera’s range.

  “She’s gotten stronger,” Prism commented.

  “God save us all,” Fade said dryly.

  Prism said a quick prayer. Alma’s energy shields could absorb explosions. Prism had witnessed it with her own eyes. Hopefully the girl could get the device away from trafficked areas.

  “It’s not over yet.” Fade motioned towards the screen.

  The villains picked themselves up.

  Prism examined the building plans again. “If they need to make it back to their van, they’ll most likely go this way.” She pointed to the area on the map.

  “They could also go through the hole Alma made in the wall and be there just as fast, though.” Fade rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Way they came in is more direct and was probably their original plan,” she said.

  “Look, I can get there if I fade through this set of walls—” He traced his finger along the plans. “If I hurry, I can cut them off.”

  “We can, you mean?” She frowned.

  His face pinched. “Please, Luce, you’re ... not now. We don’t know what these guys are capable of, but we do know I’m immune to what powers of theirs we’ve seen so far. You can cover the Alma exit in case they double back that way, but please, let me take them on my own this time. For our kid?”

  She closed her eyes, everything within her screaming not to let him go alone. “All right, but if you leave me a single mother, I swear I’ll never stop crying.”

  “Noted.” He gave a sharp nod and leaped through the wall.

  Prism shook her head and started down the hall at what she meant to be a run but which came out as more of a waddle.

  She huffed in frustration. Even with regular exercise, it was still like operating with a bowling ball strapped to her midsection. The baby within her kicked, and for a moment she almost stopped. Before she could, the Adjudicator’s taunt about her being a ‘nothing sable’ bit into her brain like a mosquito sucking at her blood.

  No, I’m still a superhero, no matter what anyone says, no matter if I’m pregnant. I’ve got this.

  She turned a corner, and an intense humming energy slammed into her. She activated her projection powers, casting her image several yards behind her. Now for all practical purposes invisible, she crept forward. The humming increased, the sound waves tangible. At the end of the hall, the three villains stood. Her throat closed in on itself. She needed to get word to Fade or Alma.

  The middle villain had his hands outstretched and visible pulses of energy emanated from him in time with the humming.

  Some sort of sonic wave based powers ... but what are they doing?

  A cool breeze tickled her, and she looked up. There was a hole in the ceiling—probably Alma’s escape route. As she watched, the strong man member of the team hoisted the sound wave guy up over his head.

  They’re going to get away. If I can stun them, maybe I can overcome them, but they need to be looking at me.

  “Hey!” she shouted, dropping her projection.

  The men spun around. Prism pushed her hands forward, and a dazzling burst of light rushed from her.

  The men staggered back. The smaller man in the hood threw his hands over his face, but the strong man crashed blind
ly into the wall. Sonic wave guy, who had still been suspended over the strong man’s head when she attacked, managed to catch the edge of the hole in the ceiling and pull himself to safety.

  Prism rushed forward, ready to unleash a second attack.

  The smaller, hooded man’s body shimmered, coming alive with a cold blue light.

  Oh, crap. Need to hurry.

  Prism inhaled then exhaled, sending her powers straight to her hands. She collected as much light energy as she could within her fingertips. Her bones buzzed, and her hands tingled. A burst like this would knock them silly whether they were looking at her or—

  The glowing man lowered his hands from his face and gazed directly at her.

  His eyes were eerily alight with that same blue gleam but somehow still absent as if he were looking through rather than at her. He had a pale, thin face, almost sickly in complexion, and a scraggly blond beard. The details didn’t matter, though.

  She knew that face. Her heart leaped within her.

  “Aiden,” she whispered.

  A distant boom shook her out of her stupefaction. This couldn’t be. This was some trick.

  A probing, teasing energy surrounded her.

  Aiden’s powers. I’d know them anywhere.

  “Aiden!” she gasped. “It’s me, Lucia!”

  The energy rushed into her, and the world swam.

  A sleep? But Aiden can’t sleep people unless he’s touching them—

  Even as her brain screamed that this couldn’t be happening, she swayed. She managed to catch herself against the wall and slide down rather than topple face-forward. She pried her eyes open, trying to see him again. The world was gray. She was so tired.

  Collapsing against the floor, she gave in to the sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  “Prism? Prism are you all right?”

  Prism sat up with a cry.

  Alma leaned over her, brow furrowed. Soot coated her cheeks and forehead. “Oh, good, you’re up. You okay?”

  Prism shuddered. What had happened? She’d been knocked out? No, she’d been put to sleep—by Aiden.