Courageous

by Nicholas Olivo

  Megan and Herb didn’t say anything, but left the room holding hands.

  Petra looked up at Mrs. Rita. “You sent the others away because you want to talk to Vincent about something unpleasant. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Mrs. Rita smiled at Petra. “I would not dream of sending you away, Petra. But you are correct, I need to speak with Vincent about something very important.” She turned her attention to me, her brow furrowing. “You burned out your powers, didn’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “What?” Petra’s eyes were wide. “What did you do, Vincent?”

  I scrubbed at my face with my hands. “I’d never done anything that big or elaborate with time and extradimensional energy before. I had to create a permanent pocket dimension with its own independent timestream. The strain of doing that… It broke something inside me. I literally felt something in my chest crack as I did it.”

  Mrs. Rita nodded, the corners of her mouth drawn down. “That was your connection to apertus energy, extradimensional energy, and tachyon snapping.” Her expression became somber, and her voice softened as she said, “Vincent, that sort of thing, it cannot be healed.”

  “I know,” I said, my voice cracking a little. “It was worth it. Treggen can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

  Petra just held my hand and shook her head, a faint smile on her face. “Just when I think you can’t get any more reckless,” she said, but not unkindly.

  I returned her smile. “Oh, if you thought I was reckless before, just wait until you see how I act without powers. I promise I’ll be an even greater danger to myself and society.” Petra laughed and hugged me.

  I returned the hug, and when Petra and I broke apart, I looked at Mrs. Rita. “Now will you tell me who you really are?”

  “I am who I have always been,” she said.

  “Oh, come on.”

  “To the Olympians, Cather, the kobolds, and any other race with dragon blood in its veins, I am Messesrhitha. Messesrhitha is one of the original dragons of this world, who started out as a girl and was transformed into an Imugi, sort of a proto-dragon, by Hae-soon, the goddess of the sun. Over time, I grew into the silver dragon you saw. I fought alongside Olympians against titans, defended the dragons against man, and a host of other things.

  “I also helped the Chroniclers, and they were grateful for the assistance of one such as myself. One of my gifts has been to know exactly what I will do in all situations, so that nothing surprises me. It is how I knew when to help you and when to leave you to your own devices.”

  I was struggling to process this. “But your accent, your kids and grandkids?”

  Mrs. Rita smiled. “As for the accent, I spent several hundred years in Louisiana. There was much dark magic there, and I spent my days fighting it. To blend in, I tried to mimic the locals’ way of speaking. I loved the sound of the people’s voices, and it did not take long before their dialect became more natural than my native one. The culture was quite delightful, as well, especially the food. I had no idea that alligator would be so delicious, or could be so versatile.

  “As for my family, I adopted them. A young man and woman were being preyed upon by a grunch.” At my confused expression, Mrs. Rita explained, “Grunch are sort of inbred dwarves that steal livestock and occasionally maul people. They are something like a chupacabra, but more malicious. Remy and Lulu were newly wed, and Lulu was pregnant with their first child when she was attacked one night. I fought off the grunch, but Lulu was badly wounded. I stayed with them and tended her wounds. It took much more magic than I was expecting; the grunch’s bite carried an infection I’d never seen before, and I didn’t dare leave her side until I was confident that she would make a full recovery.

  “So, I stayed with them for a few months, helping Lulu during the day, protecting the people by night. When little Alexander was born, I stayed for a bit longer, to ensure he hadn’t received any supernatural taint in utero.” Mrs. Rita’s eyes were bright and distant. “He had the most brilliant blue eyes, and a smile that would melt anyone’s heart. Including mine. I knew I should leave, and couldn’t. So, I stayed. I had taken to using this human form, because people and monsters did not find it threatening, and so, when little Alexander could speak, he called me Meme Rita. Over time, little Alexander grew up and had children of his own. I told myself that I was still monitoring his gene pool, to make sure none of his descendants developed any kind of supernatural affliction, but I knew I was lying to myself. I had not had a family of my own for hundreds of years, and I had finally found one. I suppose we adopted each other.

  “I have been with one branch of the family or another ever since.” She gave a short laugh. “They joke that I am magical or immortal, because Gramma Rita, or Granny Rita, or Meme, just keeps on with the family. About thirty-five years ago, Adaline, Alexander’s many times great-granddaughter, moved with her family to Boston. I have been here ever since.”

  “And they never get suspicious of you?”

  “Well, I think some of them wonder. But when the time comes, when the little one I was watching over has gray hair like mine, I usually move on to another family member. They all know of me, and they are all good people. I am welcomed, and I protect them in return, even if they don’t fully understand how.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me all this before?”

  “It was not time for you to know, Vincent.”

  “Is that the same reason why you didn’t tell me what was in my own future? You must’ve known what was coming. You could’ve prevented some of this.”

  Mrs. Rita merely arched an eyebrow at me.

  “Right, because then I’d never make my own mistakes and never learn anything.”

  “You are becoming quite wise, Vincent,” she grinned.

  “Yeah, the gray hair gives me a plus two to my Wisdom score,” I said, touching my temples.

  “So, what will you do now?” Mrs. Rita asked.

  “No way, you’ve got to tell me more than that.”

  “I do not,” she replied.

  “You do not have to tell me, or you do not see yourself telling me more?”

  “Yes.”

  I leaned back against the bed, defeated. “Fine. You asked what I’ll do now. Well, I owe Petra a trip to Peru. But first, I need to contact the Care Taker and explain what’s been going on.”

  “Let me do that,” Mrs. Rita said. “I do not think the Care Taker will be willing to listen to you right now. And even if he does listen to me, it will be best if you take a few days to let him cool off. From what I hear, Peru is lovely this time of year.”

  I rubbed my chin. “I can’t portal us there,” I said. “We’re going to have to buy some plane tickets.”

  Mrs. Rita raised an eyebrow at me. “Vincent, do you really mean to tell me that with all the wondrous things in this house”—she gestured around her—“that you cannot create a simple single-destination teleporter?”

  “Well, now that you mention it,” I said. “Gizmatron 3000 did have a trinket like that.” I grinned at Petra. “Pack your bags, love. We’re going to Peru.”

  Epilogue

  Petra and I had a wonderful time in Peru. We did a bunch of the touristy things, went on mountain hikes, petted a whole bunch of alpacas, and toured Incan ruins. We even spent a bit of time at the Temple of Coragem, where Mitt Nollen and Jack Santo had found the amulets. And after about a week of that, I got a text from Gearstripper.

  Mrs. Rita says it’s time to come back.

  So, we used the homestone to return to Courage Point, where I had a quick talk with Mrs. Rita and Gearstripper. From there, I used the Gizmatron teleporter to bamf myself back to the Undercity. When I walked in to HQ, a frazzled-looking young woman looked up from behind the security desk. She picked up a tablet, and I heard a scanner ping as she looked at me through
the tablet’s camera.

  “Agent Vincent Corinthos, I take it?” she asked.

  “That’s me. And you are?”

  “I am extremely frustrated. The Care Taker’s here, someone sabotaged nearly all the computer and electronic equipment in the building, the coffee machine doesn’t work, and it’s going to be two days before I get any help.” She tossed her tablet to the side in disgust. “Are you here to quit, too? Oh, don’t raise your eyebrow at me like that, mister. All morning long, the agents and support staff who worked here have been resigning. The security guard Jacob… Did he even have a last name? He came in, dropped off his notice, and walked out. Didn’t say a thing.”

  “Jake’s a man of few words,” I said. Jake and I had talked earlier about letting him and Cynthia stay on the Bright Side for a time. Jake would be able to communicate telepathically with the Urisk, and with Treggen gone and Lotholio in charge, it would be a relatively peaceful place for Cynthia to grow and adapt to adulthood.

  “Then that blonde, Hayes, walks in, gives me this bright, fang-filled smile, and tells me that she’s quitting. Then she says if the Care Taker or any Caulborn come near her or someone named Herb, that she’ll suck the soul out of them.”

  For all her diplomacy, Megan could definitely hold a grudge. From what Gears had told me, she was going to help Herb and his dad run Oddities until she figured out what she wanted to do next.

  “Then Zach Galligan walks in,” the woman continued. And honestly, I was surprised that more people didn’t recognize the actor the Billy mech was based off of. “And this little green gnome or something pops out of his chest. He gets out, gives me a slip of paper, says he’s done working here, and then walks out. Right after that, my computer goes on the fritz and the coffee machine stops working.”

  The damage that Gearstripper had caused to the electronics and computer systems was mostly superficial, or so he’d said. Taking out the coffee machine did seem particularly evil, though.

  “Even the medical staff is quitting.” She picked up a piece of paper from her desk. “Dr. Joseph Ryan faxed in his retirement notice from”—she squinted at the name—“Mort Norris. Where the hell is that?”

  “It’s a district in Atlantis,” I said. “The doc is vacationing there with Panacea, the goddess he’s dating.”

  I don’t think the woman even heard me. “And Mrs. Rita, the woman that the Care Taker spoke so highly of, also retired. This office was dramatically understaffed to begin with. How are we supposed to—” She cut off when her phone rang, and she sighed as she saw the number. Before taking the call, she looked up at me and said, “You’re expected in conference room one.”

  Part of me felt bad for this young woman. After all, she was only trying to do her job. Just the same, the agency hadn’t exactly treated us fairly, so I wasn’t overly sympathetic. And, as much as I’d like to think the crew that worked here was irreplaceable, I was certain that in a week or two, the Boston office would be re-staffed and mostly running again.

  I made my way to the conference room where Treggen had murdered Xavier and Megan. The only other person in the room, seated at the head of the table, was the Care Taker himself.

  “Have a seat, Corinthos,” he said. And I couldn’t help but notice that the title “Agent” hadn’t been attached to my name.

  “I will start by saying that you are no longer on the Caulborn’s Most-Wanted list. Mrs. Rita has explained to me what happened, the Tempus corroborated her story, and necromantic divinations of Corben Xavier told us you had been telling the truth.”

  “You know, it would’ve been a lot easier if you’d just listened to us at the outset.”

  The Care Taker continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “My diviners have also confirmed that you successfully dispatched Treggen, and for that, you have my thanks.” That statement looked as if it caused him physical pain. Then he leaned forward and jabbed a finger at me. “However, that does not change the fact that you are a reckless loose cannon who takes too many chances with civilians and with Caulborn resources. Because of that, I am seriously considering terminating you from this agency. I want to hear what you have to say for yourself.”

  I’d been expecting something like this, and I’d come prepared. It was what Mrs. Rita and I had talked about before I’d come here. I pulled an envelope out of my jacket pocket and slid it across the table to him. “What do I have to say? Let’s start with a hearty, fuck you, I quit.”

  The Care Taker was taken aback, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously? Did you think I’d beg for my job? Did you think I’d ask for your forgiveness? Did you honestly think I’d fight to keep a job at an agency that doesn’t trust me? Staffed by people who had created a synthetic being designed to kill me? Led by a douchebag who felt I was as bad as the things I protected Boston from? No. Fuck that.”

  I inclined my head toward the envelope I’d given him. “That’s my resignation. Effective immediately. Add it to the pile of the ones that have come in today.” The Care Taker seemed to be getting over his shock of being spoken to like this, but I didn’t give him a chance to interrupt me.

  “Well, Marcus,” and the Care Taker bristled at me using his name so casually, “I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure speaking with you, but that’d be a flat-out lie. You’re an asshole, and I’m glad that I’ll never have to deal with you again.”

  He started to say something, but I ignored him, got up from the table, and walked out the door. The Care Taker had obviously never had anyone do this to him before, because he kept shouting at me from the conference room, and when I shut the door behind me, I could still hear his shouting, albeit much more muffled. Wow, the soundproofing here really was pretty good.

  I went up to my office, found a cardboard box, and began tucking my action figures and a few other knickknacks into it. On the plus side, since we hadn’t been in the new HQ for long, I didn’t have much to pack. On the downside, Drago, that asshole, had broken one of the legs off of my Chewbacca figure. I hoped the Vikings back in 990 were doing something bad to him right now.

  That was when I noticed a small package wrapped in plain brown paper sitting on the edge of the desk. The address label was yellowed and faded; like it had been sitting around for years, and the return address was smudged to the point of illegibility, but I could clearly make out my name. Interestingly enough, there was another label below the address, stating it should be delivered on a specific date and time. Today, about twenty minutes ago.

  With excited fingers, I tore open the package and found a small cardboard box, the kind you’d put a pair of earrings in. I pulled off the lid and found a small silver key and a note that read, “Box 1976, First National Bank.”

  I went topside and caught a cab to First National. I asked a teller to take me to the safe deposit boxes, and located the one specified on the note. It contained three things. The first was a near-mint copy of Commander Courageous #1. I was afraid to touch it. This comic was worth high six-figures for a copy in fair condition, and something like this, whose pages were still white… Well, I’d heard that Nicolas Cage paid almost two million dollars for his copy. I very gently set the comic aside and found a small envelope addressed to me, along with a battered leather notebook.

  I ripped open the letter and read, “Vincent. If all has gone well, you received the key on the proper date and time. I am sorry we didn’t get more time together, but I am confident that you will use the Anisa Amulet in the ways I always imagined it would be. This notebook may be of interest to you. It contains all the case files that my Care Taker thought too small or too unimportant. But the missing people, the deaths, the thefts, they all mattered to someone. By the time you read this, they’ll be decades cold, but for someone with your talents, they might yet be solvable. Good luck, and remember, never let fear get the better of you. Mitt.”

  I placed the comic back i
n the safe deposit box, took the letter and the notebook, and caught a cab back to my apartment, where I found Petra and Gearstripper making a batch of scorpion-pepper salsa.

  Gears was saying, “You know, Petra, I think your tongue being made of stone lets you cheat when we have these hot-salsa eating contests. You can just ignore the burn.”

  “And you eat so fast that the capsaicin doesn’t even have time to hit your tongue, Gearstripper,” Petra laughed in response. “So, I’d say we’re even.” She noticed what I was carrying. “What do you have there, love?”

  “My stuff from the office,” I said. “I’m pretty sure the Care Taker was going to fire me, but I quit first. But that’s not important.” I held up Mitt’s notebook and told them what it was.

  Petra’s eyes widened. “Wow, so what will you do?”

  “Well, I don’t have temporal manipulation anymore, so I can’t just pop back in time to solve these cases like Mitt wanted, but I’m going to try. I still have the connection to Courage Point on Olympus and the resources that provides, so we can move there permanently. Given that I don’t have an income anymore, it’ll be good to go somewhere we don’t need to worry about food or rent.”

  Petra nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. I’ve been modeling for a while now, and people are starting to notice that I haven’t aged. I’m getting tired of being asked who my plastic surgeon is. It’s time to move on. And I can help you with your investigations.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. Gears, you want in, too?”

  “Is a 5/16th wrench the best thing to have in your toolbox?”

  “Um, maybe?”

  Gears rolled his eyes at me. “Yes, Vinnie, of course I am.”

  “Awesome. I’ll phone Herb and Megan, too. I’d love to have their help in this.”