by Ekeke, C. C.
Hugo popped off the couch. “Mom, that’s amazing!” He drew her into a firm hug. “Congratulations!
“Thank you, Bogota.” She drew back, cupping his chin in both hands. “This is partially because of you.”
Her eyes held such pride, Hugo had to glance away. Part of him felt unworthy. “Me?”
Mom let her arms drop. “You doing more than just fighting crime. But being a role model.” Her eyes grew shiny. “I’m so proud.”
Affection overpowered Hugo. “Well, I learned it from somewhere,” he threw back, winning laughter from his family. The buzz of his work cellphone interrupted the moment.
“Hold on.” He fished the cell from his pocket. Seeing the caller ID, he swiftly answered. “What’s up?”
“Becky returned just now,” Max replied. “She wants to see you.”
Saracen. Hugo had forgotten about the terrorist with all this earthquake relief work. But Becky wanting to meet without prompting? Did she know he was onto her? Whatever the case, this was Hugo’s chance to confront Becky about her Saracen connection. “Danger Room rooftop. Ten minutes.”
Hugo suited up, then raced out of his neighborhood and took to the skies.
The late afternoon sun, low and red, was muted by the film of smog roaming down from Washington.
Becky was waiting on Danger Room’s rooftop. The sunset flattered her hooded leather jacket and hip-hugging jeans. Her purple hair in a tight ponytail gave her a more youthful look.
Hugo floated a few yards away, just above ground.
Becky’s eyes twinkled as she smiled. “Nice job up in Seattle.”
Hugo wasn’t here for banter. “Rebekah.”
His brusqueness surprised Becky. She arched an eyebrow but said nothing.
Hugo realized any hostility would set off red flags. He hastily softened. “What do you got?”
Becky gave him another onceover. “This hits the news tomorrow. But I’m telling you first.”
Hugo touched down on the roof. “About what?”
“The Washington earthquake.” Becky pursed her lips. “There was nothing ‘natural’ about that disaster.”
The import of her words cracked Hugo across the jaw. “Wait…Someone did this?” His interest in Saracen vanished.
“My thoughts exactly.” Becky glanced away. “A massively powerful terrakinetic. Class-5…or higher.”
Hugo silently digested this for several moments. A superhuman terrorist that powerful would spark backlash against all supers. That asshole Senator Huntley would have a field day.
But given her Saracen ties, Becky’s word wasn’t enough. “Is there proof?”
“How about a name and a face?” She produced a cellphone from her pocket, swiping a few times before handing to him. “Her name is Meteora.”
Onscreen was a woman literally carved out of rock, her risqué clothes flaunting a sculpted frame. The snarl on Meteora’s chiseled face exuded a vibe of there being no adversary she couldn’t dominate.
With her powers, I believe it. Hugo suppressed a shudder, handing the cell back. “Never heard of her.”
“Most haven’t,” Becky retorted. “She’s contract. Low profile.”
Hugo side-eyed her. “You call that earthquake low profile?”
Becky shrugged. “Her past contracts were. There’s more.”
Hugo rolled his eyes. “Really?”
Becky cough-laughed. “Meteora leads a crew of kinetic-type heavies.”
Nausea filled Hugo as he thought about recent ‘natural’ disasters. The Gunnison National Park wildfires, the Carolinas’ floods, the Montana tornadoes… “Does Meteora’s crew have a pyrokinetic or hydrokinetic?”
Becky marveled at him, the winds ruffling her ponytail. “Hellfire and Alluvion. There’s also an aerokinetic nutjob named Sirocco. They call themselves the Forces of Nature.”
Anger rushed through Hugo. “I’d wisecrack under lighter circumstances.” Four faces to beat down.
Becky smirked grimly. “They’re part of a group that offers services to other criminal organizations. Like a temp agency for supervillains.” She pocketed her phone. “The Vanguard defeated their first incarnation back in 2002. I’ve heard mutterings of their return for years now.”
The specific year rang like a bell from a story Lady Liberty had shared. “What is this group called?” Hugo asked, brimming with dread.
Becky Knox’s face was stony when she responded. “Villains for Hire.”
Chapter 35
Greyson expected a tongue-lashing after returning to Shenandoah. And once he’d snuck away to his condo, Asher Martin delivered.
“What the fuck?” the Paxton-Brandt exec yelled, beet-red. Trying to act tough in his overpriced suit would’ve provided laughs if Greyson wasn’t in the doghouse.
Connie watched from the couch in silence. Probably for the best.
“I’m sorry.” Greyson didn’t flinch from Asher’s anger. “I lost track of time.” The lapse in focus was embarrassing. But admitting the reason after Paxton-Brandt had forbidden him from engaging Aegis would only make things worse.
“Sorry? Sorry?” Asher tensed up like he was about to hit Greyson. Instead, he wisely backed up and squinted. “You’re not going native on that team, are you?”
The accusation offended Greyson. “No. It was a slipup on a terrible plan.”
Asher’s eyes widened. Connie’s warning look signaled that he’d crossed the line.
The Paxton-Brandt exec jabbed a finger at Greyson. “I worked with you,” he said in low, acid tones. “Did everything you asked. Now you’re blaming me?”
Greyson remained calm in the face of Asher’s escalating anger. “I’m stating the flaws in your plan. Surrounded by that many heroes in a disaster area. Can you imagine if your plan had backfired?” Greyson shifted back to the reason why they were in this god-awful city. “We have a better chance defeating the Thrillers in Shenandoah, which is already distrustful of superhumans.”
Asher opened his mouth, quivering from head to toe.
Greyson cut him off with a sharp hand chop. “I screwed up. That won’t happen again.”
“Like I should believe that?” Asher snapped.
“You have my word.” Plain and simple.
The oath won more scorn from Asher. “Your word means shit. You’re just a fraud gifted with powers.”
He’s trying to provoke me. Greyson searched for a response not involving expletives.
“We still have a backup plan,” Connie blurted out, hand raised strangely.
Asher studied her like some insect, unimpressed “I’ll devise the plans. Don’t do shit until I say so, Damocles.” He turned on his heel melodramatically and stormed out of the apartment.
“Guess I deserved some of that,” Greyson admitted after several moments.
Connie rose and reached his side. “What happened up in Seattle?”
Greyson sighed, ready to confess. “Aegis was there,” he whispered.
Connie staggered back. “What?”
Greyson nodded, eager and giddy. “He was forty feet away.” He pantomimed the act of spearing a target on instinct, reliving the moment. “I had him in my sights, was about to skewer him—”
“Hirsch.” Connie grabbed his face. “I know Aegis is your white whale. But you don’t know what Paxton-Brandt is capable of. That scientist who betrayed them.” She walked away from her husband, hugging herself tightly. “They tortured him and turned his own daughter against him.”
That grabbed Greyson’s attention. “Seriously?”
Connie looked shaken. “The editor-in-chief of some news site that went after Paxton-Brandt?” She stared at the floor. “They screwed with her pain medication until she OD’d, got her fired, and then had her ‘disappeared’.”
An intense cold spread through his chest. “Jesus,” Greyson murmured.
“They’re backing us now.” Connie sounded so frail and sad. “But that ends if we stop producing results.”
Greyson reac
hed her in a few strides and pulled her close. “The only thing that matters is you and me. I won’t let us down.” He was just as afraid. But for his wife, he’d remain strong for them both.
Connie’s eyes glazed over with affection. “I know.” She draped her arms around his neck, dragging him closer. Greyson responded promptly, his mouth hungry for hers.
After they finished, he departed and snuck back to the Natural Born Thrillers’ compound with hours to spare before dawn. As he settled into bed, he promised himself to follow Asher’s new plan. Unless Plan B works.
The next morning, an insistent pounding on his door jolted him awake.
Greyson grumbled as he stumbled forward to answer. Bulldozer took up the whole doorframe.
Now what? Greyson kept his calm as he stared up at this man-mountain. “Hello,” he replied stiffly.
Bulldozer sighed, as if offloading a massive burden. “Great work in Seattle, Levi.” A grudging smile tugged at his lips. “Good job.”
Greyson was confused. Bulldozer complimenting him? “Thanks.” What trickery was this?
Before either could continue, Erika’s voice blared on the speakers. “Everyone to the assembly room.”
Erika calling an emergency meeting this early didn’t bode well. The pair walked through the halls at a hurried pace.
Greyson sat amid the Thrillers, all in casual civilian wear. Brightburn yawned.
A puffy-eyed Erika sat at the table’s head. “We’ll tackle two other matters before addressing Bulldozer’s behavior and Brightburn’s vigilantism.” Her glare raked over both teammates. “The goodwill from Seattle doesn’t erase the bad behavior.”
Bulldozer stared at the table guiltily.
“Now.” Erika’s features curdled. “News broke last night that a terrakinetic caused the Washington earthquake.”
Greyson felt as nauseous as Erika appeared, barely hearing the outcry from the other Thrillers. What kind of sick fuck did this on purpose?
“What do we know?” Bulldozer demanded.
“Her name is Meteora.” Erika’s eyes burned. “Now the most wanted villain in America.”
Homicidal psychopaths like Meteora made Greyson sometimes question his own methods. Most supervillains wanted money, power, or destruction. Greyson wanted a society free to protect itself. There was no comparison between him and them.
“But there’s an incident that occurred in our absence.” Erika gestured at the flatscreen on the wall. “A bomber targeting cells of Pax Humana.” The burnt husk of a duplex appeared onscreen.
“Why is this a problem?” Reverb complained, hands behind his head.
“How many sites were hit?” Brightburn asked seriously.
“Three. We have to catch this bomber.” Erika watched Shattershot pointedly. “I know,” she spoke over the collective groan. “The bomber is a super, so we need to be involved.”
Greyson furrowed his brow. Something about these attacks felt familiar. “Is there a suspect?”
Erika tore her gaze away from the empath. “The police have found a match.” She pressed a button on a remote control, revealing a mugshot of a woman with pixie-cut green hair and a devious smile.
Bam-Bam. Superhuman. Conglomerate contract killer. Shattershot’s girlfriend.
Shattershot turned deathly white. “Oh no…”
Oh yes… Greyson hailed. Plan B was in full swing.
Chapter 36
“I ran your evidence up the chain,” Dawson professed over the phone.
Hugo sat in an empty classroom during Snack period, cellphone pressed to his ear.
“After news about the terrakinetic broke, everything started moving superfast.”
Hugo stopped himself from scoffing in agreement. Two days had passed since he’d revealed to the detective what Becky Knox had told him about the Forces of Nature. The urgency had prevented him from confronting Knox about Saracen. Finding these criminals took top priority.
Immediately after, news had broken about the terrakinetic responsible for the SeaTac earthquake.
All hell had broken loose, with nationwide outcries for her capture. Anti-super advocates like Noah Huntley used this opportunity to demand more superhuman restrictions.
Scaring Hugo most was how many Americans agreed. Tragedy and fear were powerful drugs.
“What agencies are hunting Meteora’s group?” he asked, a mobile app mimicking his Aegis cadence.
“The FBI, since they’re domestic terrorists,” Beale replied. “And the OSA, since they’re supers.”
Hugo adjusted his seated posture. “Does the company have more labs storing kaiju remains?”
Dawson sighed. “They’re getting me that info today. The sooner the better.” Wherever the two detectives were teemed with pedestrian traffic. “Again, thanks for your help.”
“Sure.” Hugo would be happier once the Forces of Nature were stopped. “Let me know when you’ve found these murderers.” The call ended soon after.
Hugo adjusted his hoodie tee and hat before exiting the room. On the way to the Quad, where the Forces of Nature would strike next dominated his thoughts.
The usual kaleidoscope of sounds, smells, and sights flooded his senses once outside. He weaved through the jungle of Paso High’s student body. Many overlapping conversations centered on the SeaTac quake and giving to the school donation site built by Simon.
Hugo welcomed the normalcy of the regular school day instead of the post-apocalyptic horror show in Washington. He spotted Jordana on a far side of the Quad with her softball friends. Hugo would deal with that situation eventually. Today, he craved his friends’ company.
Brie and J-Tom sat together atop the group’s table, in deep conversation. J-Tom seemed back to her normal lively self after visiting Ramon yesterday to upgrade her armor.
The rest of Hugo’s friends gathered around Simon and Raphael, facing off while Grace filmed on her cellphone. Raphael dwarfed Simon in size, dressed in an oversized NFL jersey, jeans, and Timberlands, black du-rag covering his freshly cut hair. Simon faced him wearing the latest Aegis t-shirt (ha!). He’d been generating crazy videos for when SeaTac earthquake donations reached a certain level. When three thousand dollars in donations were reached, Simon and Raphael would rap battle each other.
Hugo inched closer, eager to hear more.
“Bogie.” Simon waved him over. “Gimme a beat!”
The group offered warm greetings. Brie winked at him. J-Tom beamed. Grace ignored him. She was still angry, despite his apology attempts.
He’d try again in a few days and hopefully save their friendship.
On Simon’s three-count, Hugo began beatboxing. The two friends battled back and forth, trading some fierce yet fun-loving verbal jabs and rhymes for the full five minutes of rap battling. Simon did better than expected, clever with his puns. Raphael countered with fierce braggadocious energy, gesturing with each verse. It was declared a draw, Simon and Raphael hugging it out afterward. Oohs, aahs, and laughs ensued. Personally, Hugo thought Simon edged out Raphael, but whatever. Trading high-five/side hugs with both competitors, he realized how much he enjoyed—needed—this normalcy.
Titan had no escape from being Titan. Knowing this, Hugo would never give up his secret identity. But Spencer could take that choice away whenever she wanted. Then there was Saracen…
Someone poking his ribs startled Hugo. Brie stood watching him curiously.
He forced a smile to hide his burdens. “Hey, Breezy.”
“Hey, Bogie,” She was glammed up as usual, high ponytail and a cropped polo shirt with baggy pants. Carrying her tennis bag instead of using her gym locker was odd. “Can we talk later?”
Hugo considered her request and his usual patrol after school. “Six-ish PM at Beach Bum Burger?”
“How about right after school?” Brie countered.
Hugo stared at her. The urgency in her voice was the kind a friend shouldn’t ignore. “You alright?”
Brie offered a nervous laugh, but her heart rac
ed. “I think so.”
Hugo nodded. “We can meet then.” Since the summer, Brie had climbed back to a good place mentally and physically. If she needed his help, he'd be there.
Right then, he caught sight of Baz Martinez sitting near the cafeteria with legs spread, holding court with his teammates. Natalie Rodriguez cuddled beside Baz, achingly pretty, giving his neck an occasional nibble. During Baz’s final week at Paso High, the mood among his crew was bittersweet.
Hugo watched them, remembering Baz’s request almost two weeks ago. Look after Brie. The request deserved an answer, especially after Saracen’s stunt.
He marched toward the group of ballplayers. Harlan Mills and Cody Banks saw him first, immediately standing in alarm. By the time the other ballplayers noticed their change in mood, Hugo was already beside Baz. Natalie jerked away. Baz didn’t turn, but his posture tensed.
Hugo’s gaze swept over the now-silent gathering, all eyes on him. “Leave.” One brusque word sent the gathering scattering, even Natalie. Only Baz remained.
Hugo sat beside him and leaned back.
Baz watched him expectantly. “Well?”
For the first time in forever, Hugo didn’t hate him. “Okay.”
Baz gawked, still uncertain. “Okay?”
Hugo nodded. “Okay.”
Baz sagged in elation. “Okay.”
Hugo rose and extended his hand. He felt eyes from all over the Quad watching them. “Good luck.”
Baz stood, accepting the handshake. His disdain reserved for Hugo was gone. “Thank you.”
Hugo turned and walked away. Within seconds, Baz’s crew swarmed their friend and peppered him with questions. This didn’t make Hugo and Baz friends. They could never go back after everything they’d done to each other. But ending the feud felt…right.
Across the Quad, Hugo’s friends had questions in their eyes, Brie and Simon especially.
Jordana flagged him down first, so cute with her loose and kinky curls unbound and spilling down her shoulders. Jesus, Hugo hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until they were facing each other at the edge of the Quad.