Power On: Supervillain Rescue Project

by H. L. Burke

  “Hey, Fade, it’s me, Porter—from the San Diego team,” a man’s voice echoed from the speakers.

  “Hi.” Fade’s brow furrowed. “Wasn’t expecting to hear from you. The last time we talked had to be when we were dealing with Brink.”

  “Yeah, thankfully this is under slightly better circumstances. I called Prism first, and she said you were in my area.”

  “Generally speaking, I guess I am.” Fade pulled into a parking space and put the car in park.

  Jake leaned back in his seat, pretending not to listen but keeping his ears open to anything that might prove useful later.

  “My team got a call from the juvenile corrections department. Apparently some kid they’d taken in for vandalism randomly manifested superpowers during a lunch room spat.”

  Jake scoffed quietly. Amatuer hour.

  “Randomly, huh?” Fade tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Does the kid have sable parents?”

  “Not on record. Mom seems like a normie. Dad’s not in the picture, but from what we can tell, also a normal dude. One of them would have to be a sable for the kid to be, though, right? I mean sable powers don’t develop out of nowhere, and I don’t think anyone was experimenting on this kid.”

  “I’ve known a handful of sables whose powers didn’t have a hereditary or lab based source. I mean, it’s rare, but it happens. I’m guessing you want me and Prism to take the kid in?”

  “I thought about doing it myself. Since we adopted Jackson, we’ve talked about fostering another sable teen, but my wife’s pregnant with our first, and it’s just not great timing for us.”

  “Trust me. I get it. Our first few months with Ruby were a rollercoaster.” Fade laughed. “I mean, we were going to fly out of Phoenix for Portland, but it’s only like a three hour drive from here to San Diego. We could be there by this evening. If the kid is a good fit for the camp, we’ll take him with us. I’ll text Prism and see if she can cancel our flights and get us seats out of San Diego.”

  “If not, I have some military friends who can hook you up. They do training flights out of Miramar pretty regularly.”

  Jake’s ears twitched. That actually sounded kind of cool.

  “Might take you up on that. See you in a few hours, all right?”

  “Yep. Drive safe.”

  Fade hung up the call before concentrating on his phone, texting for a minute. He then glanced back at Jake.

  “Apparently your team just grew by a member.”

  “Goodie.” Jake rolled his eyes. He rubbed at the disruptor cuff with the toe of his shoe. There was no chance some random juvie type who got caught tagging or whatever would be any sort of help in his eventual escape. No, the only one Jake could depend on from here on out was himself.

  LALEH STARED SULLENLY at the plaque covered wall in her mother’s office. If there was an award or an honor that she could by any reach qualify for, Cyra Ashe would win it. The wall showcased multiple degrees, dozens of citations for bravery and citizenship, and various photographs of her meeting with influential figures and world leaders. It was like a massive Pinterest board of expectations Laleh told herself every day she didn’t care if she lived up to—but Cyra cared, and that was all that mattered in the Ashe clan.

  Her school backpack, sitting on the floor beside her feet, rustled ever so slightly.

  “Shh.” Laleh glanced around to be certain the room was empty. It had been by sheer chance that one of the invisible ferrets had brushed up against her before security could lead her from the school lab, but it had been sheer cunning that had allowed Laleh to grab it and stuff it into her shirt without the guard noticing. The creature had scratched her a lot at first but then he’d calmed down and fallen asleep tucked under her jacket. Thankfully she’d filled one pocket with cat food before she started her heist, expecting to need something to keep the ferrets calm during transport. She now leaned down and slipped a few bits of kibble into the pocket where the ferret lurked. The animal chattered contentedly before falling silent again.

  Well, at least she’d saved that one ferret. On her way out of the school, she’d heard the staff discussing their strategy for recovering the escaped creatures. Chances were most of them would be eventually caught. Not this one, though. This one she’d hang onto until she could get away to deliver it to a happy home.

  The door slammed shut behind Laleh, but she didn’t turn around. Her mother stormed to her desk and sat down in the chair. Cyra’s DOSA uniform consisted of a pair of well fitting black pants, knee high silver boots, and a silver top that was somewhere between a motorcycle jacket and a business blazer—balanced halfway between the boardroom and the battlefield. Now she sat with perfect posture, her dark locks pulled up in a tight bun, not a hair out of place. If not for a certain fire in her eyes, Laleh would never have known her mother was upset. After all, a show of temper was a show of weakness, and nothing about Cyra was ever weak.

  “Well?” Her mother raised an eyebrow.

  Laleh remained silent.

  “Sit up, young lady!” Cyra ordered. “You got yourself into this mess. Don’t you at least have something to say for yourself?”

  “No.” Laleh angled to the side.

  Nothing she could say would matter. She’d broken rules. She’d disappointed her parents. She’d made mistakes—not that she regretted them. Well, she regretted that she’d gotten caught, but even she knew that didn’t count as repentance.

  “What were you thinking? Your grandfather spent hours this morning on the phone with the school president, and the best we could negotiate was for them not to press charges.”

  Laleh swallowed. She hadn’t even realized that was an option. After all, it wasn’t like she’d committed a crime. Well, maybe technically, but for a good cause. It wasn’t as if she was a villain or something. More like a vigilante, a warrior for ferret justice.

  “I told him to tell them that they’d actually be giving you what you wanted if they expelled you, but even that brilliant bit of reverse psychology didn’t work. The family of the student whose experiment you ruined is insistent that you no longer attend.” Anger momentarily creased Cyra’s face. “Do you even understand what you’ve cost yourself? The Shepherd Academy was going to be the gateway to your future—”

  “Maybe I don’t want that future,” Laleh mumbled.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Cyra said firmly. “You were born with superpowers. You are not going to waste your abilities in some average career. You’re going to be a superhero, and that’s final.”

  Laleh sank into herself, intentionally slouching as much as possible.

  The backpack shimmied ever so slightly. Laleh held her breath. Come on, Mr. Ferret. Don’t give yourself away.

  Cyra folded her hands on the desk in front of her, apparently not hearing Mr. Ferret’s movements.

  “It’s time for you to stop acting like a spoiled infant and start seriously thinking about your future,” she continued.

  A thought struck Laleh, and a triumphant smile curled across her lips. “It doesn’t matter anymore. If Grandpa can’t strongarm some overhyped prep school into keeping me around, what makes you think DOSA will want me?”

  Cyra’s expression turned to pure stone. “We have time to fix this before DOSA needs to be involved.”

  Rebellion rose in Laleh’s chest, and she stuck her chin out. “Then I’ll keep acting out. I’ll get kicked out of the next school too ... and the one after that! You can’t pick my life for me, Mom. It’s the 21st century.”

  “I thought you might be planning something like that,” Cyra said, her voice unnervingly calm. “That’s why I called in some favors ... including one that is waiting in the hall right now.” She pushed a button on her desk. “Liam, would you send in Prism for me?”

  “Yes, right away,” her mother’s assistant replied through a speaker.

  Cyra sat back in her chair, a smug smile on her face.

  Laleh’s stomach quivered. What was her mother up to?


  The door opened. In spite of her determination to appear disinterested, Laleh’s head whipped around to look. A woman of maybe thirty strode in. She had shoulder length blond hair tipped with blue highlights and wore a matching light blue bomber jacket. From the slight swell of the woman’s stomach, Laleh thought she might be pregnant, but she knew better than to ask. Most notably, though, she carried a baby on her hip.

  Who brought a baby to meet Cyra Ashe?

  “I couldn’t get a sitter on such short notice. Thankfully she’s still young enough to fly free.” The woman laughed and shifted the child to her opposite hip. The baby sucked on a pacifier, taking in the room with wide, curious eyes.

  “Oh, don’t worry.” Cyra smiled benevolently. “I fully understand the difficulties of balancing motherhood with a DOSA career.”

  “Was that why we had a nanny, a tutor, and a personal chef on call for my entire childhood?” Laleh asked. “Yeah, signing all those paychecks was a true balancing act.”

  Cyra shot her a warning glare.

  Prism took a chair next to Laleh then glanced at the girl. “This is Laleh, I’m assuming.”

  Laleh scanned Prism. Based on the name, definitely a sable. The handle was vaguely familiar, as if it might’ve come up in her parents’ shop talk at some point. If so that probably meant she was at least moderately important, influential, and connected. The Ashes didn’t bother referring to anyone who wasn’t by name.

  “Yes, she is.” Cyra’s gaze sharpened towards her daughter. “Laleh, don’t be rude. Introduce yourself.”

  “Why? She knows who I am.” Laleh fidgeted in her chair.

  “I do. Your mother sent me a detailed email about your recent escapades.” Prism turned her baby around to face forward then addressed Cyra. “Have you told her about the camp yet?”

  Camp?

  “No, not yet,” Cyra answered.

  “I was thinking, maybe you and I should discuss it on our own first,” Prism said. “I agreed to take Laleh as a favor to Talon, but in all honesty, I am not certain that the program is the best fit for her.”

  “I’m certain that it is,” Cyra said in a tone that usually ended conversations.

  “It’s just that the camp was designed with a ... different sort of teen in mind,” Prism continued.

  Laleh settled back in her seat. It wasn’t as if anything she had to add here would matter.

  “Different sort? How so?” Cyra leaned forward, her dark eyes glinting. “My understanding was that your program is aimed at rehabilitating troubled sable teens. If you read my email, you know that Laleh is exactly that.”

  “She won’t be the only teen at the camp, though. We’ve recently accepted two other teens, and they’re both from much more difficult backgrounds. One is an actual supervillain.” Prism let out a breath.

  Laleh’s ears twitched. An actual supervillain? As a teen? Was her mother actually sending her to hang out with bad influences?

  Sweet.

  “I understand that you want to provide Laleh with some structure and direction,” Prism said. “I’m just worried that you might be throwing her in the deep end here. This will be very different from how she’s lived thus far.”

  “Good. That is exactly what she needs.” Cyra nodded.

  Laleh’s nose wrinkled. If her mother wanted this for her, it couldn’t be good.

  Prism faced Laleh. “As your mother said, the purpose of Camp Sable is to provide a place for troubled sable teens. Do you think you fit that description?”

  Laleh hardened her expression. “Troubled? No. I am trouble, though.”

  “I think I can handle that,” Prism’s tone grew dry. “I’ve rehabilitated actual adult supervillains. You’re not particularly scary to me.”

  “Rehabilitated?” Laleh recoiled. “What does that mean?”

  “It means she’s going to pull you off your current path of squandering your potential and teach you to be the hero you were born to be.” Cyra squared her shoulders.

  Laleh hopped out of her chair. “No way! I’m not letting you brainwash me into being a perfect little DOSA drone!”

  Prism cleared her throat. “That’s not what—”

  “You’re going to sit down and do as you’re told!” Cyra snapped. “You lost the right to an opinion when you decided to devalue everything our family has worked so hard to provide for you. You will not throw away your future!”

  “I don’t want that future!” Laleh wailed.

  “I don’t care!” Cyra bolted from her chair, her gaze literally flashing.

  Laleh quailed back as her mother’s lightning powers sparked around her head as if the older woman were made of storm clouds.

  Prism’s baby giggled and reached for the angry Cyra, clapping her hands and working her fingers in a clear “gimme” motion.

  Cyra drew back from the baby.

  “Sorry. Ruby’s been around sables since birth. She tends to think everyone’s powers are for her amusement.” Prism stood and took a few steps back. She held one hand out in front of her daughter. Her fingers glowed with a pale light. Ruby cooed and gripped her mother’s outstretched fingers before dropping her pacifier and pulling Prism’s hand into her mouth. Prism then addressed Cyra. “I’d like to speak with Laleh alone for a few minutes.”

  Cyra frowned. “Are you agreeing to take her?”

  “I’d like to speak with her alone first.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

  “I think it is.” Prism strode to stand in front of Cyra then held out Ruby. “If you wouldn’t mind, she would love to go see the fish tank in the lobby. She loves tropical fish ... or anything that moves and is colorful, really. A few minutes of looking at that and she’ll be practically in a trance.”

  “I really don’t—” Cyra started to protest.

  “Oh, she’s a great baby. You’ll be friends in no time.” Prism pushed Ruby into Cyra’s arms. The baby grabbed Cyra by the collar and started babbling. Prism took Cyra’s arm and propelled her towards the door.

  Laleh watched as her mother sputtered for a moment before allowing herself to be ejected from her own workspace. Prism shut the door, locked it, and turned back to Laleh.

  “Never let anyone tell you having kids will slow you down. They’re honestly quite useful in a pinch.” She grinned.

  Laleh frowned back at her. “I don’t want to go to your dumb camp.”

  Prism sat on the edge of Cyra’s desk, facing Laleh. “All right, so tell me, what do you want? You don’t want what your mom has planned for you, which I’m assuming is a successful DOSA career leading into some sort of high ranking political position.”

  “So basically for me to be her.” Laleh sniffed. “Does it matter what I want? Your job is to get me where my mother wants me to be, isn’t it?”

  “No. My job is to make sure you don’t go down the wrong path. There are multiple alternate paths, though.” Prism searched the girl’s face. “So you don’t want to be a superhero. Great. Don’t be. That said, I read the report of what got you kicked out of your school. It wasn’t just dumb mischief—well, it was a little dumb, but I wouldn’t call it mischief.”

  Laleh’s face heated, but she stayed quiet.

  “You had a plan and a purpose. I don’t think you’re rebelling against being a superhero because you want to do something average and boring. Maybe I’m wrong and you have a life goal to be something ordinary. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with ordinary. The world would stop without it, but if that’s your goal there are far better ways to get what you want than breaking and entering. No, what you did wasn’t a cry to be forgotten and overlooked. You want attention, and you must have a reason for it.”

  “I’m a spoiled brat who wants her mommy to notice her more. At least that’s what everyone thinks.” Laleh’s gaze dropped to her lap. If that had really been her motivation, it would’ve backfired. Her mom was apparently eager to send her across the country. Out of sight, out of mind.

&n
bsp; “Even spoiled brats can want something.” Prism’s blue eyes softened. “If it’s just attention from your mom, I can’t help you with that, not really. That change would have to come from her, but if there’s something else, something you want in your future, we can work towards that.”

  Laleh bit her bottom lip. She didn’t want to give into this, to trust this woman. After all, Prism had been summoned by Cyra, and even if she’d made a show of standing up to Laleh’s mom, if life as an Ashe had taught Laleh anything it was that most people eventually gave Cyra what she wanted. Maybe not right away, but soon enough that the delay didn’t really matter.

  “Your mom’s already signed off on you attending Camp Sable,” Prism continued. “That’s inevitable at this point. That said, she won’t be there with us, and if you have something you want to work for, something you want to do or be, I’d like to make that the primary focus of your stay with us.”

  “I want to make a difference. To make this world a better place,” Laleh stammered. As soon as the words escaped her lips, she cringed at how cliche they were.

  “And you can’t do that with DOSA?” Prism tilted her head to one side.

  “Not my mom’s DOSA,” Laleh mumbled.

  “I get that. Well, Camp Sable isn’t your mom’s DOSA—or any DOSA for that matter. It’s my personal dream, what I’ve spent my career building towards, and I’ve done everything possible to make sure I get to run it my way.”

  Laleh’s backpack squeaked.

  Prism glanced around the room. “What was that?”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Laleh said quickly.

  Prism made a humming noise in her throat before standing. “So, I’m not going to insult your intelligence by pretending you have a choice. Your mother is telling you you have to go, and Talon has told me I have to take you because your mother is his political ally and I owe him a favor. What I will say is that you have a chance to make the most of this, and I want to help you do that. Camp Sable is a new concept, and for the most part an untested one. I firmly believe that it can make a difference, not just for you but for a lot of kids who are in far worse positions than just being expelled from school. You can be a part of that.”