Reborn (Supervillain Rehabilitation Project Book 3)

by H. L. Burke

  Chapter Fourteen

  Prism parked her sedan in front of the line of classy but closely packed La Jolla condos. She whistled. There was no way Porter afforded this place on a DOSA paycheck.

  Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up from the center console.

  Fade: Let me know when you get there, okay?

  She typed back, Just did. Are you worried about me or something?

  Fade: Kind of wishing I’d gone with you. Keep your eyes open, all right?

  I will, but I could hardly be safer. Jackson isn’t associated with any of this mess, and he’s being watched over by one of San Diego’s best sables. Porter will be there during our meeting. I called ahead to be sure it was all right.

  Okay, but still, wear your lasers. I know they’re in the glove box.

  A smile crossed her lips. He was cute when he worried about her. She sent him a series of heart emojis before slipping her phone into her jacket pocket. After claiming her laser wristlets from their hiding place, she strapped them onto her wrists.

  Striding up to the gate in front of the line of condos, she pushed the button to call up to Porter’s unit. Almost immediately, the air next to her shimmered, starting as just a fist-sized point of silver light before expanding outwards to a circular hole about six feet in diameter. Through it she could see an interior space furnished in a crisp, modern style. A physically fit man in his mid-twenties with olive skin and dark hair strode through and flashed Prism a grin.

  “Hey, come on in.” He beckoned her through the portal.

  She laughed. “Quicker than taking the stairs.” She stepped through onto the polished tile floors and glanced around.

  “Nice place.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He spun in a slow circle. “Honestly, it’s a little much for me, but my wife does PR for a tech company. Pays the big bucks.” He gave an uncomfortable laugh. “We met a few years ago after some villain attacked their corporate office.”

  “You rescued her?” Prism asked. Sure, it wasn’t unusual for rescued individuals to develop a romantic interest in their saviors, but the mix of hero worship and trauma bonding rarely resulted in long-term healthy relationships.

  “Oh, heck no.” He snorted. “Actually, she didn’t like the press statement I gave and asked me if we could meet over drinks to talk about softening my language to put her company in a better light. I normally would’ve laughed in her face, but she picked a really nice restaurant. I didn’t get a lot of chances to enjoy fine dining back then.”

  The portal shut behind them.

  “A couple of cosmopolitans later, and we somehow ended up on the dance floor and ... let’s just say I may have adjusted my press release the next day.” He laughed. “We try to keep our professional lives separate these days, though.”

  Prism took in the living area. “What does she think of Jackson?”

  “She’s crazy about him. We’re not old enough to be his parents, but she grew up with younger cousins and missed having kids around. I think he’s adjusting as well as could be expected. I know we’re not the ideal guardians for him, but we try.”

  “I think you’re a fine fit.” Prism smiled comfortingly. “Honestly, it was a lot harder than I thought it would be to find sable couples willing to take in the kids from Alma’s old gang. Adopting a teen with superpowers is a big commitment.”

  “He’s a good kid. Reminds me of myself at his age, you know. Just a normal kid with an ability that sometimes complicates things.” He cupped a hand around his mouth. “Hey, Jackson, Prism’s here.”

  A moment later a freckled, red headed teen emerged from the hallway. He gave Prism an awkward smile. “Hey, Sergio said you need help tracking somebody?”

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, not at all!” the boy said quickly. “I almost never have a reason to use my powers these days.” He scrunched his nose at his guardian. “Sergio says he won’t take me on a real mission until I’m eighteen. That’s like almost three years.”

  “Sorry, pal. Themz the rules.” Porter aimed a fake punch at Jackson’s chest. “If you need me, I’ll be in the other room on the computer. Got some paperwork I’ve been putting off.”

  After Porter departed, Prism settled onto a low gray couch decorated with geometric accent pillows. Jackson sat on the other end with one of said pillows clutched to his chest.

  “So, I will admit I only vaguely know how your powers work based on what Alma told me.” Prism wrapped one arm around her belly. Sitting in a car for the drive from Oceanside to La Jolla hadn’t been easy on her spine, and her lower back hurt a little.

  “Basically, I can see maps of places in my head. If I focus on that map, I can even see details, live details. Here I’ll give you an example.” He nodded towards the picture windows looking out over the street before closing his eyes.

  Prism eased to her feet and crossed to the window. Cars rolled past along the busy street.

  “Okay, so a blue sports car is about to come around the corner,” Jackson said. “It’ll be here ... now ...”

  A spacy looking, electric blue car turned onto the street.

  “Impressive. How far is your range?”

  “Depends. I can’t see all of an area at once, but if I focus on small sections, I can go maybe as far as ten miles.”

  Prism’s chest tightened. She didn’t know why she’d expected more. A ten mile range was impressive for any power. However, it meant that if they were going to find Aiden, they’d need to already be close to Aiden—at least ten miles close.

  “Alma also said you could track people?”

  “Yeah, people wandering through my mind-maps kind of leave a trail behind them. In my head it looks like a streak of colored light, really bright at first, but after a few hours it starts to fade before being gone in a day, maybe two tops. If I know a person, I can sometimes find them even if they aren’t in an area I’m scanning. I just have to think about them really hard, and as long as they’re within a certain distance, I can get an image of their surroundings.”

  “Can you work off a photograph or a description? Maybe a video?” She slipped her hand into her pocket and around her phone. She had multiple options just on that device and more in the cloud.

  His mouth twisted. “Sometimes, but I hate to promise it. Handler used to have me case targets for him, but it would normally only work if I were able to observe them for a few days to get a feel for them.”

  Prism deflated. This looked to be another dead end. Of course, if there was a chance Jackson could get in range of wherever Aiden was, he’d be able to develop that connection and continue tracking him—but that would mean bringing an untrained kid—sable or not—into proximity with a team of dangerous supervillains. She couldn’t do that. Not when she wasn’t even sure it would work.

  Jackson’s gaze dropped to the pillow he was clutching. “I’m not being very helpful, am I?”

  “No, it’s not you.” She forced herself to perk up.

  A strange sound, a mix between scraping and tapping, caused her to sit up straighter. She stood, taking a step towards the window. The sound immediately stopped.

  “I really want to do something heroic, you know? My power is ... kind of lame,” Jackson mumbled.

  “No, it’s not!” Prism turned to face him again. “I can see it being a very useful skill in a lot of circumstances. It’s just the problem I’m trying to solve doesn’t look like it will have an easy solution, and I had kind of talked myself into hoping that you would provide one.” She tapped her fingers against her hip. “You might be able to help me, but first it looks like I’ll need to figure out a general area the targets will be in and then try and get you close to them. Maybe if Porter was with you, it would be safe enough.”

  Jackson brightened. “Being with Sergio is crazy safe. Every time there’s danger, he can zap me away. A few weeks ago, I accidentally left a hot pocket in the microwave for thirty-three minutes instead of three minutes and thirty seconds, and it went boom!”
He clapped his hands together. “Splattered everywhere. He was in the kitchen with me when it went off. I think he thought it was a bomb or something because he screamed like a little girl and teleported me, him, and Becca onto the sidewalk outside. She was wearing her bathrobe, and man, was she ticked off at him for that.”

  Prism laughed.

  The scraping sound returned ... no, that wasn’t scraping. It was ...skittering?

  She froze. “Jackson, can you do a quick scan of the area to see if there’s something ... off?”

  His brow furrowed. “Sure.” He closed his eyes, and his jaw immediately dropped. He leaped from the couch. “Prism, look—”

  The window behind them exploded into a thousand shards of glass.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Prism instinctively grabbed Jackson by the arm and cast their projections to the other side of the room. A man in form-fitting, dark brown body armor with a helmet with an opaque black visor jumped into the room. A pair of pincher like appendages jutted from below the visor, twitching open and shut.

  Her heart leaped into her throat. She recognized him from DOSA wanted posters.

  Earwig!

  The villain sprang off the tile floor, twisted mid-air, and landed on all fours against the ceiling. He stuck in place.

  “I know that’s not you,” he teased in a deep, electronically modulated voice. “Come out and play.”

  Prism’s hold on Jackson tightened, and as if in response the baby within her stirred. Under normal circumstances, kicking the butt of a known assassin and brute for hire like Earwig would’ve thrilled her, but now, with a minor and an unborn baby in her care, it wasn’t the time or place.

  She eased towards the door as he skittered across the ceiling, crawling with unnerving, jerky movements.

  “What’s going on in here?” Porter burst in from the hallway.

  “Look out!” Jackson squeaked.

  Earwig released his back feet from the ceiling and swung forward. His heels collided with Porter’s face. The superhero hit the wall and sank to the floor.

  “Sergio!” Jackson screamed.

  Prism clapped her hand over the boy’s mouth, but too late.

  Earwig dropped to the floor and rushed in their direction. Prism shoved Jackson to the side then threw her hands forward with a burst of light. The villain staggered back a step. Prism activated her lasers forming two rods of blazing, burning light and heat extending from her wrists. She swiped at Earwig, one blade aimed towards his head, the other his waist.

  He dodged under the top blade. The second impacted against his shoulders. Sparks flew as it penetrated his armor. He cried out in pain and jumped. Attaching to the ceiling again, he hissed at her.

  “Jackson, get out of here!” Prism shouted.

  The boy dashed across the room only to land on his knees beside Porter, shaking him.

  Muscles taut, Prism backed against the nearest wall. Earwig crouched above her, his eyeline following her lasers. A hot breeze drifted through the broken window, and sirens blared in the distance.

  I can’t fight him. I just need to hold out until help gets here. How hard did he hit Porter?

  Porter moaned. Earwig’s head jerked in his direction.

  Prism pressed the button on her right wrist, switching from sustained to burst. A blast of energy exited her wristlet and crashed into Earwig’s back.

  With a muffled cry, he slid across the ceiling and slammed into the far wall. As fast as her bulk allowed, Prism sprinted for Porter’s location, ignoring the crunch of broken glass beneath her booted feet.

  Porter picked himself up, eyes dazed, hand to head.

  “Prism!” he gasped.

  Something crashed into Prism’s back. Pain raced through her as she hit the floor.

  A swell of energy and blue light surrounded her. Hands grabbed her about the shoulders and yanked her forward. Then the light went out. The world swam. Her mid-section contracted painfully. She whimpered before everything went black.

  FADE’S HANDS GRIPPED the steering wheel. He tried to focus on driving instead of checking his phone for another notification. He needed to know what was happening, any news beyond the single brief but horrifying text he’d received, Come quick. Prism hurt.

  A link to a hospital in La Jolla had followed. He’d wavered for a moment, wanting to call and ask what was going on, before shoving his phone into his pocket and speeding off.

  When he got off the freeway and stopped at a light, he tried to clear his head.

  It can’t be too bad. She didn’t go anywhere dangerous. Just to visit that kid. She’s fine. She’s going to be fine. The baby is going to be fine. You’re all going to be fine. Don’t let yourself imagine the worst. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s ... it’s fine.

  His jaw clenched until it hurt. Why was this damn light taking so long?

  Finally, he hopped out of his car in front of the emergency entrance. Leaving his keys in the ignition, he bolted in, towards the reception desk.

  “Fade, over here!” a voice shouted before he could address the nurses.

  Porter rushed to him. “You got here fast.”

  “What happened?” Fade barked.

  Porter cringed.

  Fade tried to moderate his tone. “Where’s Prism?”

  “They took her into surgery maybe ten minutes ago. They didn’t give me a lot of information—not family, but—” Porter let out a long breath. “I’m worried. We got attacked in my home. Out of nowhere. Some nutcase burst through the window and knocked me into the wall. I came to in time to see him throw a couch at Prism. I managed to port us all here, and they took Prism immediately into care, but last I saw she was unconscious.”

  Fade’s throat closed in on itself. “And then what? Even if you texted me immediately, it’s been almost an hour.”

  “I’ve sort of been out of the loop. I think she was conscious for a while, but they didn’t let me in the room. Look, let me get an actual doctor. They’ll be able to answer your questions.”

  Fade slouched in the nearest waiting room seat as Porter walked towards the desk. His stomach tightened. He hadn’t even wanted to ask about the baby. If something happened to either Prism or the baby—he just didn’t know. He had no frame of reference for that sort of agony. Now, however, both of them were in danger.

  He closed his eyes. “Please, God, please. Whatever you want from me, I’ll give it. Even if You can somehow transfer this onto me ... I’ll take it ... but not them. Please, please not them.”

  “You okay?” a voice rasped.

  Fade’s head jerked up to find a freckled teen hovering over him. He sat up straighter. “Jackson, right? Were you there when this happened?”

  Jackson fidgeted. “It was a supervillain, I guess, but I don’t know which one. He didn’t say much. I think he was trying to take down Prism. He knocked Sergio out but seemed to ignore me and him after that. Just kept going after her.”

  Fade’s stomach twisted. Prism’s career as a DOSA sable could’ve easily created enemies, but he didn’t know of any active supervillains with that sort of grudge against her. “So he got away?”

  “Prism hit him a few times but not bad. I don’t think he was really hurt—”

  Tapping shoes alerted Fade to the return of Porter, this time accompanied by a dark haired woman in scrubs.

  “You’re the husband?”

  “Yes, what happened? Is she okay?”

  “She sustained a great deal of trauma and started bleeding and having irregular contractions. Her doctors suspected a placental abruption. They’re going to attempt a c-section delivery.”

  Fade’s blood drained from his head, leaving him cold and weak. “She ... she’s not full term yet.”

  “No, but at this point, the risk to both her and the child is greater if we don’t take immediate action. We’re going to try to deliver the baby and get your wife a transfusion to make up for any blood loss.”

  Fade managed a nod. “Are they ... are they going to be
okay?”

  “You’ll know as soon as we do. If the baby is able to breathe on her own—” The doctor launched into a long list of potential ill-effects of premature birth, of worst case scenarios. Fade tried to latch onto it, to process it, but the drumming of his own pulse drowned out the words. Someone had tried to kill his wife and child—and they might’ve succeeded.

  If I lose them, what am I going to do? I can’t. I just can’t. Oh, Luce, why didn’t you stay home? Why did I let you go alone? How could I have been so stupid, so careless?

  “You should sit down. We’ll know more when they’re out of surgery.” The doctor motioned towards the waiting room seats before departing.

  Porter glanced behind them. “Is that your car out there?” He pointed towards the entrance.

  Fade swallowed. He’d forgotten all about that. “Yeah.”

  “If you’ll give me your keys, I’ll park it for you so you can stay here.” Porter put out his hand.

  Fade fumbled in his pocket before remembering that he didn’t have them. “I left them in the car.”

  “Okay. I’ll go get them.” Porter gave him a slight smile. “She’s tough. The baby’s sable on both sides. They’ll be okay. I know they will.”

  “I hope so,” Fade mumbled.

  Porter grasped his shoulder for a brief moment before heading out the door.

  Fade sank his face in his hands. He didn’t feel like praying. Not now. His chest emptied of all emotion leaving him cold and paralyzed.

  I can’t sit like this. I need to do something. If the person who attacked her got away, he could try again. She’d be helpless right now if someone were to come after her.

  He focused on Jackson. “Tell me everything you can about the guy who attacked you.”

  Jackson pressed his fist into his forehead. “He wore a helmet, so I couldn’t see his face. He could cling to walls, though, like some sort of insect, and he had these claw things on his face.”

  Fade’s hands tightened to fists. “I know the guy.”

  Earwig had been a gun for hire for over a decade. Amoral jackass, but his targets were financially motivated, never personal. Unfortunately, he was also tenacious. Fade had never heard of him letting a mark escape. A few managed to evade the first, second, or even third attack, but he’d keep coming. His professional reputation depended on it.