by H. L. Burke
“I guess.” Aiden tapped his spoon on the edge of the bowl. “Be careful, Luce. I know you want this to work, but the guy—he did things. Bad things.”
“Things he can’t even remember,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, I’m not buying the whole ‘memory wipe fixed the villain’ thing. For one thing, people are more than the sum of their experiences and erasing that doesn’t change who he is at the core. For another, he seems to know his whole tragic backstory, so what was the point of DOSA wiping him if they were just going to give him the run down of who he was and what he did anyway?” Aiden rolled his eyes.
“I asked Talon about that. I guess the logic was that hearing about things and experiencing them are not the same thing. The idea was to erase what Fade was, not to hide his past.” She winced. “Talon pretty much admitted they were using Fade’s past misdeeds as a part of his so-called reprogramming, basically letting him know why he can’t be trusted and why they have to take so many precautions around him. Shame’s a powerful tool.”
“Not powerful enough.” Aiden groaned. “I wasn’t excited about bringing any villain into our team, but Fade you have a blind spot for, and I don’t like it. He could hurt you.”
“He won’t. You have to trust me. I know he made mistakes, but he was a hero once, and he can be one again.” She sat across from her brother.
“You don’t know that. You don’t know him.”
“Dad did. Dad believed in him.”
“Yeah, I loved Dad as much as you did, Luce, but he was only human. He made mistakes, too. I can’t help but thinking if he were right about Fade, the incident at the lab would never have happened. Accident or not, a lot of people are dead because of Fade.”
Prism’s hands tightened around her coffee cup. Another lie—or omission, at least. She had read her team in on the situation with Fade’s memory over dinner the night before but had left out Talon’s revelation about the true nature of Fade’s crime. If Aiden were skeptical about Fade now, it would be impossible to convince him to give Fade a chance if he knew. No, for now, Fade’s crimes were tragic, but they weren’t premeditated murder.
The man Dad put so much time into mentoring, who he used to talk about like another son, that man wouldn’t do what Fade is supposed to have done. I can’t believe it. No matter the evidence, no matter if Fade himself believes it, I can’t. I just can’t.
“You okay?” Aiden narrowed his eyes at her.
“Yeah, just ... I really need this to work, Aid. If it doesn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.”
“Even if it fails, you’ll always have a place in DOSA, Luce.” Aiden gave her a comforting smile. “You’re too good a sable for them to not want you. Also, if I remember correctly, you weren’t a half bad dancer if you want to leave the game entirely.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She concentrated on the warmth filtering through the ceramic mug into her hands. “I know there are things I could do other than the SVR project, but there’s nothing else I want to do. Since we lost Dad, joining the project—even after they cancelled it—was my greatest dream. It feels like if I can’t do this, I will have failed him.”
Aiden reached across the table and touched her hand. “You know Dad wouldn’t have thought that. He was so proud of you, Luce.”
“Of both of us.” She squeezed his hand.
He stood and stretched. “I’m going to go change. If you see Tanvi or Keeper, tell them I’ll be waiting outside with the car in ten minutes.”
“Just text them like a big boy.” She clicked her tongue at him.
“You’re so much better at communication than me, though.” He lightly punched her shoulder. “That’s why you’re the team leader, right?”
“I’m the team leader because I’m a better fighter than you and not a sarcastic jerk.”
After Aiden left, Prism slowly turned the mug in her hands. Lying to Aiden—even by omission—made her skin crawl. Still, she couldn’t let him sabotage this for her. She’d tell him the full story about Fade after Fade’s rehabilitation proved successful. If it failed, well, then she’d have bigger problems than Aiden’s disapproval.
Finishing her coffee in a great gulp, she placed the cup in the dishwasher before wandering to the nearest stairwell. She took the stairs at a run, bursting onto the ground floor energized from the exercise.
Raised but cheerful voices drew her to the entertainment area. Fade and Tanvi sat on the couch together, both crouched over controllers, their eyes on the flashing screen where two garishly dressed avatars duked it out on a platform over a futuristic cityscape. Smiling, Prism stood back to watch. The avatar on Fade’s side of the screen spun about in the air and performed a series of physics defying kicks, knocking Tanvi’s buxom, fox-tailed avatar off the platform.
“No! No! No! Augh!” Tanvi tossed her controller onto the cushion beside her. “Darnit, Fade! I thought you said you’d never played this game before.”
He smirked. “I said I didn’t remember playing it before. It feels familiar enough that I’m starting to think I probably have.”
“Stupid muscle memory.” Tanvi grunted. She offered him her hand. “Want to go two out of three?”
“Hey, Tanvi.” Prism drew closer.
Both heads snapped towards her.
“Aiden asked me to tell you that he’ll be outside with the car in ten minutes—about five minutes ago.”
Tanvi glanced at her phone which sat on the arm of the couch beside her. “Why didn’t the idiot just text me?”
“That’s what I said!” Prism threw her hands dramatically into the air.
“You should just leave without him.” Fade put his controller down and leaned back comfortably on the couch.
“It’s his car or I would.” Tanvi wrinkled her nose. “I own a bike, which would be fine if it were just me, but Keeper also wants to come and bring Houdini.” She picked up her phone. “I’m telling him I’ll be there, but he’s needs to work on his communication skills.”
“I’d copy in Bob,” Prism suggested. “I doubt Aiden told him either.”
“Done.” Tanvi tapped send. She stood. As always she was dressed for an active day, this time in a hot pink, racer-back tank and purple board shorts. She glanced at Prism who was wearing a pair of jeans and a chunky sweater. “You’re not dressed for the beach.”
“No, Fade agreed to run through a training exercise with me this morning.” For some reason it was easier to tell Tanvi this than Aiden. If the word got back to Aiden through Tanvi—well, at least it wouldn’t look like she was trying to hide it. It just hadn’t been worth mentioning was all.
Tanvi’s face fell. “Dang, now I’m wishing I hadn’t agreed to go with Aiden.” She focused on Fade. “Your abilities present a very interesting challenge for someone with mine. I mean, there’s not much strength and agility can do against someone who can literally slip through your grasp. I need to figure out strategies and test them!”
He arched an eyebrow. “You’re saying you want to learn how to take me down? Is this because I beat you in the game?”
“No, it’s because you’re a challenge!” She punched her fist into the palm of the opposite hand. “Do you know how long it has been since I had a good challenge? Aiden’s practically made of glass. His mind games only work so far, and I can usually overwhelm him before he can use them against me. Prism is okay, but once you’re onto her little ‘ooh, look at me, I’m standing in front of you ... whoops! Nope, sorry, I lied: I’m over here’ trick—” Tanvi raised her voice a pitch.
“I do not sound like that,” Prism interrupted.
“Once you’ve learned how to approximate where she’s probably really standing, then she’s pretty easy to take down.”
Prism’s face heated. “That’s not—”
“And Bob?” Fade tilted his head to one side.
“Bob’s usefulness in a fight is entirely dependent on what animals he has access to in the moment.” Tanvi shrugged. “Sometimes that
means he’s the easiest, other times, not so much. Like last month, he found a cougar—”
A honking car horn interrupted her.
“I think Aiden’s waiting for you.” Prism nodded towards the front doors.
“Serves him right for not bothering to come get me himself.” Tanvi stuck her phone into her sports bra and clapped Fade on the back. “I’ll get you next time. Don’t you think I’m afraid to fight you, because I’m not.”
“Wouldn’t dare.” He chuckled.
Tanvi rushed off. Prism glanced down at her own clothes. She’d intentionally dressed in a way that wouldn’t key Aiden into her plans, but now ...
“I need to get into something more work appropriate. What do you need to do?”
“Honestly.” He waved his hand over himself. “These are the only clothes I have.”
“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip. “DOSA is supposed to send over your personal belongings. They’ve been in storage since your detainment. I wonder why they haven’t yet.”
“The government’s wheels always turn slowly.” He smiled wryly.
“Yeah, it’s probably just that. Are you fine training in those? Keeper and Aiden are both significantly shorter than you, so it’s not like you can just slip into their pants.”
“Tall guy problems.” He stood, stretching out his long legs.
A shiver cut down her spine. He definitely was an impressive specimen.
“My understanding is that your power extends to your clothes somehow, right?” She tried to get her mind back on the matter at hand. “Like you can go through walls and keep your clothes with you?”
“Yeah, I’m not sure of the exact science, but my body somehow emits an energy field that messes with the state of matter of objects I’m in contact with which includes any garments I might be wearing at the time.” He glanced down at his anklet. “At least it can when this thing isn’t on me.”
She reached into her jean’s pocket and found the remote. “I can remove that for the length of the training. My point is, will training damage your clothes?”
“It shouldn’t.”
“Then we can risk you training in them.” She plucked out her phone and clicked on the Amazon app. “While I change, if you want to do some shopping, we get reliable one day shipping here on most items. Try to keep it within a reasonable budget, but I should be able to get DOSA to pay me back so order yourself a couple changes of clothes. Do you know your sizes?”
“Vaguely.” He turned his back to her. “Want to check the tags for me?”
She reached for his t-shirt, but the moment her hand brushed his body, her heart started beating in double time, and she jerked away. “I think you can figure it out on your own. My guess is a men’s large, but I don’t know a lot about guy’s sizing. Meet me on the fourth floor landing in fifteen minutes?”
“Sounds good.” He sat down again and started thumbing through her app.
She kicked herself as she walked off.
Dang me. I need to get it together around him.
A little later, she jogged up the stairs to the fourth floor landing, now in her workout pants, bomber jacket, and comfortable shoes. Fade sat on the top step—reading a book.
Bemused, she tilted her head to one side. “Comfortable?”
He held up the paperback. “Found the library.”
“Ah, good.” She reached into her pocket and pushed the button on the remote. There was a mechanical whirring, and the metal circlet around his ankle fell open and onto the floor.
Fade rubbed where it had been then laughed. He stood, and a barely perceptible shimmer passed over his body, a little like a shadow from a cloud. With a grin, he stomped his feet and sank through the landing as if it had been water, leaving his book behind.
Prism staggered back a step as he disappeared. “Fade?” she called out.
Footsteps echoed behind her, and she turned just as he rounded a bend in the staircase.
“Had to make sure I was fully functional.” He stuck his hand through the wall. “Everything seems to be in working order.”
She considered him. “If you can go through the floor, what stops you from keeping on sinking right to the center of the earth? Your file always refers to your power as matter manipulation, but that’s kind of vague.” She bent down and picked up the anklet. It telescoped into itself, forming a tight coil which she tucked into her pocket with the remote.
“I’m not sure of the science behind it. It’s always been a natural function for me, something I do without thinking about it much.” He shrugged. “Easiest way to explain it is that it takes momentum and thrust to go through the floor. Even when I’m fully faded, I don’t melt through solids. I have to push through them ... and I can feel them.” He stepped closer and put his hand on her arm. She gasped as his fingers penetrated her skin. His energy mingled with hers, like an extra pulse in her veins, before he pulled away. “If I lighten myself enough, I can float, but that takes a lot more energy and isn’t sustainable for long.” He pushed off the floor, hovering a foot or so in the air, before dropping back to the ground. “I’ve always envied flying sables. Seems like that would be even more freeing than going through walls.”
“I think I’d crash into stuff.” Prism shuddered. “I sometimes think we’re given the abilities that we can handle, you know? Imagine being a flying type who gets dizzy or is afraid of heights.”
“I’d still like to try it.” He picked up his book and glanced around. “So, what’s the plan?”
She opened the landing door revealing a floor of cubicles, desks, and fluorescent lights. “This is our training floor.”
“Huh, could’ve fooled me.” He followed her out into the mundane space. “It looks like an office.”
“You’d be surprised how often we have to work in places like this.” She crossed her arms. “Workplace hostage situations. Corporate espionage. Government offices and embassies under siege by terrorists.”
“I guess I kind of knew that.”
“Your abilities are especially suited for that sort of situation,” she pointed out. “Usually if we’re training as a team we make up an objective and some of us will play ‘bad guys.’”
“Are we typecasting me as the ‘bad guy’?” He snickered.
“Well, since it’s just the two of us, we’re going to play for capture/incapacitate.” Even as she said it, a chill crept through her. Yes, she’d done this sort of training a hundred times with her teammates and even other sables—DOSA conducted regular training camps where various heroes would intermingle to exchange techniques and expertise. However, this was the first time she’d ever gone up against someone with a history of being a villain in what was supposed to be a friendly game. There was an element of trust needed to feel certain the other party wouldn’t take things too far and cause real injury. “Without doing permanent damage, of course.” She pulled back her jacket sleeves revealing one of her wristlets. “I’m setting my laser wristlets down to half power. They’ll still hurt you if I hit you with one, but it’ll be more an unpleasant sensation than an actual injury.”
He squinted at the wristlets. “I’ve never seen those before. What do they do?”
With a smile, she turned a knob on her right wristlet, bringing the power up to full. Flicking her wrist, she cut through the wall, leaving a blackened gash in the sheet rock.
His eyebrows shot up. “So, property damage is on the table, just to be clear?”
“We try not to bring the place down.” She powered down the laser again. “But a little damage is expected during a training session. Tanvi, especially, has been known to take a wall or two out when she gets into her groove, so to speak.”
“Maintenance must love that,” Fade said dryly.
“We mostly do our own repairs. Bob actually spent a few years working as a contractor before he settled into hero work.”
“Of course he did.” Fade set his book on a nearby desk. “So, do we start now? Should I give you a head start?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He winked and stepped back into the wall.
Prism drew a steadying breath and quickly projected herself several feet away. She had an advantage in knowing the layout of the training floor—but a distinct disadvantage as she had no idea how to defeat Fade. Her pulse pounded until she was afraid it might give away her actual location. He could come out of anywhere ...
Okay, easy, she told herself. I’ve read over Fade’s file so often that I know him like a book—literally. Plus he’s out of practice. I’ve done this a thousand times.
She started to ease towards the center of the room. Standing next to walls he could jump through without warning was too risky.
He makes it seem automatic, but his ability takes concentration. That’s how he’s been captured before. If he can’t think, he can’t fade. And I’m the perfect powerset to short circuit his brain.
Confidence rising with her adrenaline, she keyed into her surroundings. Fade’s unseen presence gnawed at her nerves like the buzz of an unseen mosquito. She moved her projection around the perimeter. Even if he’d know it wasn’t her, she needed to keep him guessing about her actual location. Once she got her eyes on him—
Fade rocketed through the ceiling and crashed onto the floor only a few feet in front of her. She yelped and shot forth a blast of light. The exertion of power dropped her projection, and Fade spun towards her, his arm up over his eyes to block her flash.
Before she could get off another burst, he rushed her.
Prism leaped to the side and activated her wristlets. A laser arched from her extended arm, but shot through Fade as if he were made of smoke. The bolt impacted into the wall, leaving a black smudge. She dove and rolled, shooting off a series of stun charges, hoping to catch him in a moment between fades. It didn’t work.
