Heroes Lost and Found

by Sheryl Nantus

  Dykovski paused, letting the concept sink in. “Anyone I ever tapped. That’d include Wind Witch and anyone else I’ve met on my travels. You can run, but your code stays here with me forever.”

  I swallowed hard, thinking of Rachael and thanking Jessie again for creating the jammers. Outrager said the range was a mile, Dykovski seemed to think it was a whole lot farther.

  For the first time in my life I wanted Outrager to be right about something.

  Dykovski kept speaking. “Think of it as an incentive to keep an eye on each other. I have no problem with you ratting out your buddy to save your own skin. In fact, I encourage it.” He stopped in front of me. “Of course, that doesn’t mean I won’t kill you just to make an example to others. I’ve always been a firm believer in visual and physical stimulation.”

  Thrasher giggled at the last word. Dykovski stepped away from me to stare into the super’s face.

  “I made you laugh. Good.” The ex-Guardian’s knee slammed into the super’s groin, dropping the young man to the ground. As he writhed in pain, Dykovski resumed his pacing.

  “I’m not here to be your friend or your pal or your buddy. I’m here to get you to help me change the world into a kinder, gentler place.” He drove his boot into Kit’s back, rocking the unconscious super with the kick. “In a few days we’re moving to another base of operations. There we’ll train as a team and work on recruiting more supers from around the world.” He paused, watching our faces. “Yes, around the world. We’re headed for Africa, so pack your suntan lotion.”

  The information didn’t faze me. We’d assumed as much when the initial ransom demand came in from the Controller, asking for amounts of money he couldn’t possibly use in this country. The news that he was going to move us out of North America wasn’t a surprise.

  Where he thought he was going to get more supers signing on voluntarily was another matter entirely. From what we’d gathered, the other Agencies around the world were still picking up the pieces and might have lost control or tracking of their own supers. We didn’t even know if they used plugs to keep their people under control.

  I had no doubt, however, that enough supers would be attracted to Dykovski’s utopian dream if offered enough money and power. A gilded cage was better than the unknown to some lost souls, like the two supers beside me. For some of us, freedom was just too much to handle.

  I lifted my right hand level with my ear, as I’d been trained.

  Dykovski raised an eyebrow, the left side of his mouth twitching upwards in a smile. “Yes, Surf?”

  “Sir. What about Ki…Inferno here? He’d be a valuable addition to the team with his powers.”

  Thrasher moved back into line, still bent over. Dykovski looked at him for a second before turning back to me.

  “I know Inferno. And I know there’s no room on my team for supers who don’t follow instructions.” He tapped his console. “I’m considering my options, but I’ll take your comments into consideration.”

  My stomach gave a loud growl.

  Harris smirked but said nothing.

  “A little hungry, are we?” Dykovski moved in closer, almost touching his nose to mine.

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” The words burned my throat, but I kept my expression as neutral as I could.

  “Understandable. I’ve read your file.” He dragged his eyes southward. “It’s going to be a pleasure to have you around, Surf. You’ve got a lot of potential, and I’m looking forward to seeing what exactly you can do.” A halfhearted leer appeared on his face. “See what sort of team player you really are.”

  Harris’s cheek twitched.

  Not now, I screamed mentally. Don’t try to defend my honor now.

  He stayed silent.

  Dykovski finished his inspection. “Now get the fuck in that cage before I decide you don’t need any clothing at all.”

  I took a step back out of line. A few steps more and I crouched down by my prison, ready to crawl in.

  But sure as hell not willingly. My body screamed for more exercise, eager to stretch out the cramped and aching muscles in my legs.

  “Thrasher, when you feel up to it, get Surf something to eat. Hot Foot, take Meltdown back to his own cage and feed him as well.” The sarcasm was thick in his voice. “Don’t want anyone passing out from hunger.”

  The three remaining supers took a step back and scurried out of sight. Harris caught my eye on the way out of the room and gave me a wistful look.

  Dykovski picked up the padlock and twirled it around one finger as I curled back into the cage, tucking my legs under me to fit the cramped space. “You did well there. Liked the improv solution. Nice. It showed a lot of leadership potential and an ability to think outside the box.”

  “Glad I could entertain you.”

  His fist shot between the bars and clocked me right in the nose, not enough to break but enough to hurt like a bitch. I covered my face, trying not to inhale until the initial pain stopped. My eyes watered, the left still throbbing from my previous beating.

  “No one likes a wiseass, Surf. Play your cards right and you can lead this team, my team. Be a good girl and you’ll have a very nice life with all the bells and whistles you had before. Be a bad girl and I can make your life a living hell.” He grinned, showing a set of perfect teeth. “You’ll beg me to pull your plug.”

  I stayed silent, wheezing through my mouth.

  He slapped the lock back on. “Ask Thrasher if you need to go to the washroom. I’m not a total animal, Surf. I like supers to know their place. Play by the rules and you can have some nice toys. Or you can be a toy for the other men. Your choice.”

  I closed my eyes, shutting out his perverted world.

  The sound of steps receding from the room brought my hands down. No blood, thankfully. A bit of swelling, but that’d go down soon enough.

  Thrasher walked in a few minutes later, still limping. He put a tray down on the floor and kicked it close enough for me to grab the prepackaged cheese and wilted lettuce sandwich, an apple and a large carton of milk.

  I scarfed it down, ignoring his continual stare. Either he’d never seen a half-naked woman before, or he’d never seen a hungry woman before. I wasn’t sure which one was scarier.

  “Still hungry?” He played with the end of his blond ponytail as I spat out the apple seeds in my hand and dumped them on the tray.

  “If you’ve got more, I’m not going to say no.” I smiled. “You okay? Looked like a hell of a hit.”

  “Eh, he’s done it before.” Thrasher shook his head. “I keep forgetting he don’t have much of a sense of humor. Give me another minute and I’ll scrounge something else up.” He picked up the empty tray and hobbled out of the room again.

  I stretched out my legs as far as they could go, my knees bumping against the bars. Massaging helped ease the cramped feeling, but I’d have killed for a hot blanket, or better yet, Hunter’s hands.

  Kit lay just out of reach, a trickle of drool coming out of his half-open mouth.

  So much for his planned revenge on Dykovski. Now I had to try and keep him alive. My eyes kept drifting to the jammer, so close and yet so far.

  Thrasher returned with another cheese sandwich. He passed it to me through the bars and stood nearby as I shredded the wrapper to get to the food. His attention was split between staring at me and glancing at the unconscious Kit every few seconds.

  “He’s a tough one.” There was a mixture of fear and envy in his voice. “Man, is his face fucked up or what?”

  I licked my fingers clean. Screw pride, I was damned hungry. “Dykovski did that to him. Pulled his plug and left him to die ’cause he got caught in a burning building trying to save lives.” I eyed him, trying to sense his mood. “Dykovski thinks we’re all disposable. You, me, all the supers. Could be you next. Instead of a kick in the balls, he blows your brains out ’cause you smile at the wrong time.”

  Thrasher shrugged. “We all die sometime.”

  “But you do
n’t have to race to the finish line.” I grabbed the bars and pulled myself closer to him. “You don’t have to work for him. There’s opportunities out there, a whole new world for you, for all of us.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe for you, Surf. You had it nice, sitting there in your penthouse with Metal Mike and playing the heroine. Me and Hot Foot, we ran with the street dogs, we sat in the barracks and waited to get beat up.” A distant look came into his eyes. “We sat and played cards and waited for our ten seconds of fame while you got the photo ops and the Vegas trips and the sweet loving.” He spread his hands. “We got out, sure. But what else am I gonna do?”

  I winced, hearing the truth in his words. If I’d been less pretty or if my powers weren’t as photogenic, I could have ended up in his place.

  But even fighting dogs could be rehabilitated.

  “What did you do before?” I prompted. “Before you became a super.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Used to race cars. Not too bad at it. Was a car crash made me like this. Blew a tire, went into the wall. Big bad fire and I walked away.” A shadow crossed his face. “Had a good chance of making it to NASCAR.”

  “You still can,” I said. “Get out of here and go home, go find that life again. It’s not so hard. You can do it, be whatever you want to be without the Agency or Dykovski hanging over your head.”

  Thrasher nudged Kit with the toe of his boot. “He was an Alpha. Top of the line, anything he wanted. Drugs, chicks, anything. And look where he ended up.” He sniffed. “Drunk and stupid enough to come looking for his own death.”

  “But—”

  He cut me off, slicing the air with one hand. “Sorry, Surf. Can’t do it. Once you become a super, there’s no going back to being normal. Right now Dykovski’s my best bet.”

  “At what? Getting your balls whacked whenever he feels like it?” I snapped. “When he gets tired of you, he’ll blow your head off and laugh about it.”

  Thrasher knelt down. “Maybe. Maybe he’ll set me up with a harem of beautiful women when we get to Africa and I help him set up his utopia. Maybe he pops me in the middle of the night when I’m bedding some sweet girl who’d never give me a second look in the real world. Be the best I could hope for.” He shook his head. “I ain’t going out in no blaze of glory like Metal Mike, trying to save people who never gave a shit about me in the first place. Sorry.” He walked to the exit. “Call me if you need a bathroom break. I’m next door.”

  The door shut behind him, leaving me alone with Kit.

  I leaned forward, stretching my arm out as far as I could. My fingertips dangled a few inches short of Kit’s shoulder and, by default, the jammer tucked in his pocket.

  “Kit,” I whispered. “Kit, wake up. Come on, wake up.” I couldn’t keep the whine out of my voice. “Dude, time to present. Be a fucking Alpha for once in your goddamned life.”

  A fat pink tongue pushed out between his closed lips, wagging back and forth before retreating.

  “Kit, wake up. I need you. We all need you,” I pleaded. “Camera crew’s waiting, big show’s about to begin. The crowd’s getting antsy, they’re shouting for you. Sweet lady reporter’s in the front row waving her phone number and wanting a private interview.”

  A faint groan. His trapped hands moved an inch, grinding the dark plastic foam across the ground. The goop added another five, maybe ten pounds to Kit’s weight. Even if he got upright and able to fly, launching from his feet, he’d have to do some major compensating for the extra weight.

  Considering he hadn’t even tried to fly away from my electrical attack, I didn’t think Kit was firing on all cylinders. He’d stood his ground and fought, taking the best angle for the cameras, just like we’d been trained. Except, of course, there weren’t any cameras and no adoring public hanging off his every move.

  I sat back and waited.

  “Fucking asshole,” he mumbled.

  I hoped it was directed at Dykovski and not me.

  One eye opened, wide and unfocused. It looked at me for a long second before he blinked.

  “Where the fuck is he?” Kit snarled. A wave of stale beer smell washed over me.

  “In the other room. Now tell me the cavalry is just over the next hill.”

  He lifted his head. “What?” The fogginess hadn’t left his eye.

  “The team. Where are they? Why aren’t they with you?”

  “Huh?” The blank expression sent a wave of panic through my system.

  “Who knows you’re here?” I whispered.

  Kit frowned. “No one. Why?”

  I leaned forward and rested my forehead on the cool bars. The urge to cry, to scream at the heavens, was building, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to hold out.

  “What the fuck were you doing? I had those two assholes on the run,” Kit rasped.

  “What was I doing?” My temper was at the breaking point. “I was trying to stay alive. What were you doing, coming in here with no backup? What was your plan, to bash around until Dykovski walked out and introduced himself?” In the back of my mind I heard one of Hunter’s speeches. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

  “I would have gotten to him.” Kit sounded like a teenager justifying not mowing the lawn.

  “Yeah, like you were doing so well.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “Look, wriggle your way over here, closer.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “That chain in your pocket—you tore that off me when we fought.” I motioned him onward. “I need that right now.”

  “What does it do?” Kit didn’t move. His eye, now frightening clear, studied me. He took in the cage, my lack of clothing and my obvious lack of control over the situation.

  “It sends out a jamming signal. Jessie created it to keep Dykovski from detonating the plugs.”

  He grinned.

  Not a Don’t worry, Jo, I’m here to help you grin.

  Another shiver started through my body, and it wasn’t just the cold.

  He looked down at the necklace, the small metal links hanging out of his pocket. “So why should I give it to you? As long as I keep it I should be fine, right?”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” I snapped. “You said your plug was a dud. You said you weren’t worried about it going off.”

  “Yeah, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Who knows what that idiot’s grabbed from the Agency. Doesn’t look like you’re in any position to use it anyway.” He gestured at my semi-clad state with a smile.

  “Don’t fuck with me.” I tried to keep my voice down below a shout. “What do you think he’s going to do with you? Hug you, apologize for trying to kill you and put you at the head of the class?”

  “There’ll be a time and a place for a reckoning,” Kit intoned. “Dykovski’ll answer for what he’s done to me.”

  I noticed Linda, Rachael and I hadn’t made his list of people to avenge.

  “And I’m an Alpha. I deserve this more than you do.”

  The wacky logic had me rocking back on my heels. “What?”

  “I’m an Alpha. You’re not.” He recited the words as if explaining it to a child. “Status-wise, it’s more important to keep me alive than you. If my plug’s still active, this jammer is better off in my hands than in yours.”

  I bounced between wanting to throw up and wanting to taser him again. Instead I looked into his single eye and found nothing there, nothing but the same perverse logic Dykovski believed in, twisted around and thrown back in my face.

  “Where are we?” I heard footsteps approaching. We were out of time. “Where are we?” I pressed against the bars. “Tell me.”

  Kit grunted. “Still in Oregon. Bundled you two into a truck and drove for about two, two and a half hours. I flew low, stayed out of sight.” He broke off as the door opened.

  Dykovski grinned as he stepped through into the room, Thrasher trailing behind exactly two paces. “Good of you to join us, Inferno. Been a while since we had a moment to sit and chat.�
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  “Bastard.” Kit spat towards him, the limp mouthful of saliva falling far short. “I’m going to kill you.”

  “Sure you are.” Dykovski knelt and patted the super on the head. “But I think not just yet.” He stood and shot me a mischievous wink. “Takes a lot to surprise me these days, Inferno, and when I saw you on those surveillance cameras, coming in through the front door yelling and screaming, I was surprised.”

  The ex-Guardian walked in a slow circle around Kit.

  Thrasher stood off to one side in the parade lineup we’d occupied earlier. He studied the floor, not looking at either of us or at Dykovski. His hands went behind him as he waited.

  Kit watched Dykovski in his slow orbit. Kit’s thick forearms bulged and flexed as he struggled to break the black restraints.

  “But in the end I’m up here and you’re down there, as you should be. I thought you would have gotten used to that, after all the time we spent together.” Dykovski kicked Kit in the small of the back again.

  Kit grunted but didn’t cry out. His teeth ground together as he stared at me, avoiding his ex-Guardian’s face.

  Dykovski gestured to Thrasher. “Get Hot Foot and Meltdown. I think we need to all have a chat.”

  The strongman left the room at a trot as Dykovski continued to circle Kit like a wolf waiting for the right moment to deliver the killing blow.

  “You left me to die,” Kit said, his voice rising in strength. “But I didn’t. I’m going to rip your throat out and dance on your corpse, you bastard.” Anger flashed in his eye, and for a second I saw the old Kit Masters, the superhero I’d loved and adored.

  Harris walked in, flanked by the two thugs. He flinched, seeing Masters lying on the ground. His old clothing was gone, exchanged for the same black T-shirt and fatigues the other two supers and Dykovski wore. He glanced at me once with a sad, wistful shake of his head before being yanked into line with the other two.