Heroes Without, Monsters Within

by Sheryl Nantus

  “Maybe you can be trained.”

  “Maybe you can try.”

  I shook my head and watched as he slid off the mattress and walked into the main area. He hadn’t bothered to get a new shirt. I added exhibitionist to Hunter’s invisible resume.

  I followed him, trying hard to ignore the urge to tuck him into bed and chain him there.

  David walked out of the kitchen with a tea tray. “I put a few beers in the fridge for those who may want some this early in the morning. I’ll put it down to the jet lag.” His disapproving look made me smile.

  “Thank you.” I sat on the couch next to Steve. “As soon as Peter shows up, we’ll start.”

  “Just a minute.” The muffled shout came from the bathroom. “One more minute.”

  Jessie rolled his eyes. “And here I thought Jo was the vain one.”

  “I heard that.” The bathroom door opened a crack, spewing steam. “Don’t be hating me ’cause I’m better looking than you.”

  “Problem is he’s right.” I sighed dramatically. “And better looking than me too.”

  “Oh, so now he’s the poster boy for the Protectors? Breaking my heart, woman. I want another shot with you wearing that leather outfit.” Hunter sat down in the chair to my left. His knuckles went white as he gripped the armrests and shifted against the black leather cushions.

  Peter strode out of the bathroom with a dark blue towel wrapped around his waist. I gawked at the fine muscles rippling across his arms, a definite six-pack developing on his abs. Working out with Steve had really started to pay off.

  Hunter laughed, seeing my reaction. “Hands off, Jo—he’s not going to change teams, even for you.”

  “Give me a minute to put some clothes on.” Peter headed for the other side of the loft. “You can start, I’ll be only a sec. I’ll be able to hear you.”

  “All right. Short recap.” I rubbed my palms on my jeans to quell the nervous itching. “We got our asses kicked. Big time. And now we’ve got two rogues to deal with instead of just one.”

  “Rip the head off that little fucker next time I see him,” Steve growled beside me. “Don’t let him get a chance to do that mojo with his hands, toss shit at us. Snap his fingers off and stuff ’em down his throat.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to hurt anyone.” David poured a mug of tea, adding in sugar and milk from the small ceramic containers. He passed it to me.

  Steve let out an uneasy cough before responding. “That was before he started hurting people. He could have killed a lot of civilians.” The strongman nodded towards Hunter. “He could have died today.”

  “Got lucky.” Hunter accepted the mug from David with a smile.

  “Except that’s not going to last forever.” I eyed him. He dropped his gaze to the floor and studied a crack in the hardwood. I shook my head. “I can’t risk worrying about you in the middle of a battle. We’ve moved past just taking a fall for the camera. It’s all or nothing with these supers, and they’re not going to ignore you because you’re cute and lucky. In fact, it’d make you more of a target now if they attack another public area. You might be able to neutralize possible civilian casualties with your power, but if you get killed, I will be very displeased.” I ground my teeth together, not wanting to break down again.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Steve and Peter nod their agreement. David tilted his head to one side and glanced at Jessie, who shrugged from his position at the computer.

  “Okay, so I’m benched. For now,” Hunter mumbled. “Down but not out. Don’t forget that.”

  David passed a mug to Steve before settling in next to me. “I think you all did quite well, considering you were basically ambushed by this man and his friend.”

  “We did.” I couldn’t help letting a bit of pride slip into my response. “Although it took all of you coming in to save my ass. Which I appreciate.”

  “Well, it’s a nice ass to save.” Hunter smirked. I ignored him.

  “Jessie, please display the data on Rachael.” I scanned the room. “And we are not going to call her Wind Witch.”

  The large screen flickered once before an image appeared of a young, pouting blonde with dark circles under her eyes. She tried to glare at the photographer but only succeeded in looking even sadder. Her nose, once a Grecian dream, now twisted ever so slightly to one side, the swelling still visible. She looked like she’d been beaten down by life and now was just going through the motions.

  Jessie cleared his throat before starting. “Rachael Hammond. Eighteen years old, pulled in three months ago by the Agency.”

  I glanced towards Hunter. He shook his head. “Don’t know the girl. She must have been in Processing.”

  Jessie continued. “Bullied in her last year of school—ended up being stomped by a local girl gang. Broken nose, dislocated left arm, mild concussion, which is likely what triggered her powers. Charges laid but the DA declined to prosecute due to the problem of having so many assailants and no one ratting out who laid down the actual blows. Not to mention they were all rich girls with high-priced legal help.” He whistled as he scanned his notes. “Parents jumped at the opportunity to send her off to the Agency and special education. Can’t blame her for being angry. According to Outrager’s file she went with another super to Atlanta to do defense. Rocket Rampage, to be precise. Rampage’s Guardian was supposed to be watching both of them, doing double duty.”

  A split-screen showed an African-American man wearing a jet pack, crouched in a fighting stance. The red and white uniform continued the usual tacky costuming trend the Agency endorsed.

  “Rocket went down, Wi…Rachael disappeared.” Jessie grimaced at his almost error. “She went wild and hasn’t been seen since.”

  “Until now. And she’s with Lamarr.” I got up from the couch and walked over to the monitor, studying the youthful face. I’d seen those deep blue eyes only a few hours ago in the middle of a whirlwind. “How did she hook up with him?”

  “Who cares?” Peter strolled into sight. The baggy blue T-shirt and track pants didn’t do him justice. “We need to just find them and stop them.”

  “I thought that was what we tried to do.” Steve crossed his arms and glared at the screen.

  “That was my fault.” I turned away from the young girl’s image. “I thought I’d be able to talk to Lamarr, make him see that we didn’t have to fight. Negotiate some sort of arrangement, work something out that would keep him happy.”

  David shook his head. “Not all your fault, Jo.” His voice rose to lecture level, reminding me he’d been an English teacher before retiring to sell books. He got up and walked in front of us with his hands clasped behind his back. “You made the assumption that once the plugs were deactivated that the supers would automatically revert to their natural personalities, that deep down everyone would choose good over evil. Law and order over anarchy and chaos.” One hand waved at the two images on the screen. “Would Mr. Rampage have kept being a good guy? Maybe, given he was an adult man with full knowledge of the world out there and the dangers of walking on the wild side. Maybe he would have chosen the other path, tired of following the rules for so long and itching to break free and use his powers to benefit himself at the expense of others. We all have the potential for evil inside of us.” He tapped his chest. “But we learn to suppress it, control it, understand the emotion and work around it.”

  His gaze returned to the youthful face on the screen. “Rachael probably sees the Agency as another form of bullying. The training, the harassment, the abandonment by both the legal system and her parents. I’m surprised she agreed to go along with the Agency’s demands at all. I suspect she was a rebellious one from the start.” He looked at me. “She never wanted this. Sound familiar?”

  “And Lamarr?” Peter replied.

  “Mr. Lamarr chose the supervillain route for a reason.” David continued his pacing. “I’m not surprised at the path he took, based on his life before he acquired his powers. Nor should you be.”


  “I wanted to save him.” The words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to edit them. “All I wanted to do was save him.”

  Hunter kept looking at the floor. “You can’t save everyone, Jo.” He pressed his hands together. “Save yourself first.”

  A beeping came from one of the speakers. Jessie whipped around in his chair to study a monitor.

  “Outrager’s at the back door. Set the dogs on him or not?” He glanced at Peter, the pair of them sharing a broad smile. “I bet we can make him run like a little girl from a pack of rats.”

  “Let the bastard in.” I rubbed my eyes. “Day sure can’t get any worse.”

  “And it’s only 6:30 in the morning.” Peter chuckled.

  I got to my feet, taking a big sip of hot sweet tea. There wasn’t any nice way to get out of this meeting. “Let me do the talking, please. I want to see how much he knows about what went down in Vegas. Maybe we can get something out of him that’s not in the files about these two.”

  They nodded, settling into the couch and chairs. Steve stared at Hunter, who glared back in a silent conversation on his wounds.

  I remained standing as the steps creaked and moaned, finally admitting the Agency representative on our floor. The bastard carried a huge box of donuts in both hands. He flipped the lid open as he walked towards us, exposing a huge selection of pastries.

  “They’re still warm.” Outrager set them on the table before taking my spot on the sofa beside David and Steve. “I wasn’t sure if you’d had breakfast yet.”

  David’s eyes widened at the insult. To imply that he hadn’t been feeding us was akin to disparaging his paternity. Outrager knew that. First blood on the psychological front to the Agency.

  “We’re fine, thank you,” I jumped in, eager to defuse the smaller bomb that had just been tossed in my lap. “Please help yourself to a cup of tea.”

  The Agency man nodded and crossed his legs. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m here on official business.”

  “Between sessions of pulling the wings off flies?” Jessie shot across the room.

  Outrager ignored him, focusing in on me. “The Agency was contacted by the United Nations less than an hour ago. They’ve received a demand for money. To be precise, fifty billion dollars.”

  I resisted the urge to repeat his last sentence with my hand up to my mouth, pinky extended. “From who? For what?”

  “From your two friends. For not destroying various cities around the world,” he casually said, as if we were discussing book reviews. “So, the UN would like to know what you’re going to do about it.”

  “What we’re going to do about it?” Steve turned towards Outrager, his fists clenched. “What are they going to do about it?”

  “Pay the ransom if you can’t stop them.” Outrager stared at Hunter. Hunter, in turn, glanced at me. I studied a crack in the wall. “Your performance in Las Vegas wasn’t exactly inspiring.”

  “We made a mistake. We won’t make it again.” I pointed at the screen. Jessie had changed the image, placing Lamarr alongside Hammond in a split-screen. “We didn’t know there’d be two rogues.”

  “Right now there’s two rogues.” Outrager got to his feet, sweeping invisible dust from his pants. “And as soon as we pay the ransom, there’ll be fifty more bad supers demanding payoffs. So I suggest you think long and hard about your next move. As per our agreement, all the resources of the Agency are at your disposal. Good day.” He walked towards the door, a stoic look on his face. “Please keep me apprised of any developments.”

  “How long do we have?” I asked.

  “Before the deadline or before the Agency takes control again?” Steve growled under his breath.

  Outrager either didn’t hear or didn’t react to Steve’s comment. “Forty-eight hours. Or they destroy one North American city. To start.” Outrager paused with one hand on the railing. “I appreciate you not wanting to hurt them, Surf. But if it’s the supers or the civilians, well, I think you know what Metal Mike would recommend.” The last sentence slapped me across the face.

  His retreating footsteps echoed around the room. I considered shooting him in the back and claiming it was a misfire.

  Mike would have recommended it.

  Instead I listened for the resounding clunk of the door slamming shut, looking towards Peter for verification Outrager had left the building and wasn’t lurking somewhere.

  “He’s getting into his mandatory black sedan. Driver’s wearing too much cologne.” Peter leaned forward and plucked a glazed donut out of the box. “I wouldn’t mind seeing him fall down the steps at least once.”

  Steve chuckled. “I’m with you there. The guy gives me the creeps.”

  “Tell me about it.” I turned to Hunter. “What’s our worst-case scenario? If we don’t stop these loose cannons in time?”

  He winced as he sat back. “Worst-case? Outrager and the Agency gets control over us again, this time officially and out in the public eye. The government decides that we’re too much of a wild card to be allowed to operate independently and need to be controlled somehow, someway.”

  “Like the plugs,” I replied.

  “Like the plugs. Or anything else you can imagine. It’d be the only way for them to insure the public’s safety.” He shook his head. “Don’t underestimate what these people will do to keep supers under control. The plugs might end up looking like kid gloves.”

  “But it’d be wrong,” Jessie interrupted, “and all you’d have to do is expose the Agency and their nefarious scheme.”

  “Nefarious scheme?” I smiled. “Watching a little too much television, are we?”

  “Well, that’s what it is. Was. Whatever.” He swiveled around. “People would be mighty pissed, I think, if they found out what had been going on before now. I know I was pretty ticked off when you told me the truth.”

  “Unfortunately we’re seeing it from your side, the victim’s side. The supers’ side. Turn it around and look at it from the public’s side, the civilians who you’ve been protecting for years,” David added.

  He got up and strolled around the table, pointedly ignoring the box of donuts. “While some segments of the public may see the Agency’s actions as a human-rights violation, right now they want to continue being safe—from aliens, who we now know to exist, and from supervillains that were, and are, evil. Remember, until now the good guys have always won in the end. Fixed fights or not, you’ve indoctrinated the public into believing that you can’t fail.”

  “But we’re only human.” Steve dipped into the box and came up with a chocolate-glazed donut.

  “Only superhuman,” David corrected him.

  Hunter shifted again in the chair. “Well, I think right now the best thing would be for you three to get some rest. Let us work on the details of how to find these clowns.”

  “Sleep?” Peter brushed powdered sugar from the front of his shirt. “We just rested all the way back on the plane.”

  David nodded his approval of Hunter’s plan. “But not a real sleep, and add in switching time zones in addition to being worn out and exhausted.” He waved at us like a schoolteacher dismissing his class. “Get to bed and just relax, if nothing else. You don’t know when you’re going to get the next chance to do so.” His focus landed on me, daring me to contradict him.

  “He’s right.” I felt the tension in my shoulders, tight muscles about to snap. “A fast nap in an airplane seat ain’t going to carry us far if this is going to be a marathon battle. Dibs on the shower.” I turned and studied the images on the screen. “Jessie, Hunter, work on how to track these bastards. If she’s able to pick him up and carry him, we’re not going to see those seismic footprints where we expect them, but she’s got to leave some traces, something. Maybe air distortions, something in the weather patterns. There’s got to be some way of seeing where they’re going and where they’ve been.”

  My attention went to David. “David, can you please run damage control with the media? I kno
w they’re going to be knocking down the door looking for answers as to what happened in Vegas. Toss them some quotes about rising from the ashes and all that, make them happy.”

  “Done and done.” David looked over at Hunter. “When are you due to be seen again by a doctor?”

  “Later.” Hunter tapped the arm of the chair with his knuckles. “Got enough pain pills for now.”

  “He’s on, what do you call it, light duties for the time being?” David asked, turning to me.

  “We’ll call it that for now.” I couldn’t look at Hunter. “Call me if you need me, otherwise no more than six hours sleep, tops. Any more and we’ll be too groggy to be useful.”

  The muttered response followed me into the bedroom. I grabbed a pair of track pants and a clean T-shirt before heading towards the bathroom. Thankfully my announcement had been noted and it was empty.

  The mirror was still steamed up from Peter’s visit. I wiped my palm across it a few times, streaking the thin surface. My distorted face stared back.

  Stripping down only took a few seconds and I was under the hot water, letting it soak into my sore muscles. My knees were scraped raw along with my elbows. My ribs, barely healed from the last big fight, throbbed something awful. And there’d be a heck of a lot of bruises coming up in the next few hours. No bikini photo shoots for a few days, in other words.

  Still, it could have been worse.

  I could be preparing to bury another friend.

  Close to an hour later I dragged my lobster-red body out of the shower, got dressed and headed into the communal living area. I was too wired to try to sleep and was afraid of what I’d dream about if I did.

  Hunter looked up from his perch on the couch. A dozen stacks of paper surrounded him, each tall enough to swamp the floor if they fell over and off the table. David pinched the bridge of his nose as he studied an ebook reader tucked inside the remains of an old hardcover, the old leather cover sending a faint smell of literary history through the room. Jessie poked at his keyboard with one hand, the other clutching the last of the donuts, with the empty box at his feet. A deep rumbling came from the other side of the room, behind the barrier. I assumed that had to be Steve snoring. Peter sat in the far chair, sound asleep and drooling on himself.