The Good Fight 3: Sidekicks

by Pen

  “How dare you?” she hissed at me.

  “He was my dad. I get to comment. Hell, after what happened to him, I’d have thought you’d be proud of me.”

  “First off, young man, I don’t appreciate that language. Secondly, don’t you ever think I’m not proud of you. I can be totally angry and frustrated but still be proud and love you. You’re doing a wonderful service.”

  “So what’s the problem?” I asked, and as soon as the words left my mouth I was trying to stop them.

  “The problem?” she demanded, emphasis on the word so strong that it made my ears ache. “You know good and well what the problem is. I don’t want to be here when the government men come to the door again. When they say ‘We have news’ or something like it. I’m already a widow, Edward. I lost your father to those people and I don’t want to lose you too.”

  “Oh, so now I’m ‘those people’?”

  “That’s not what I meant!”

  “This is what Mastermind is helping me with!” I said, letting the issue of phrasing go. It was a cheap shot to have taken anyway, but she was making me angry. “He’s teaching me how to be better, how to be more careful, how to get the job done without getting hurt!”

  She looked pointedly at the now-yellowing bruises on my chest.

  “Okay, so without getting hurt as bad,” I conceded.

  “And your umm . . . That Mastermind person, he just lets you get hurt like this as some kind of lesson?”

  “Not as a lesson! It just happens. We’re not playing pat-a-cake with preschoolers.”

  “That’s my point.”

  “Look. Mastermind says -—”

  “Call him.”

  “What?”

  “Call him. I want to talk to him.”

  “Ma, he’s not customer service at the mall.”

  “Do I care? He’s putting my boy at risk, and I want to talk to him.”

  I groaned and slapped a hand to my forehead.

  “It’s not him,” I told her. “It’s my choice!”

  She stood there and stared at me, unwilling to budge. With a sigh that carried my frustration, I pulled the phone from its belt holster once again and punched the speed dial code. It rang once before he answered.

  “Are you recovered?” he asked. No pleasantries, no greetings. Just a question about my readiness. It’s understandable from a certain standpoint, but it’s also amazingly rude. I mean, is a simple, ‘hello’ too much to ask?

  “You mean you can’t tell?” I shot back. Mocking his mental abilities was a quick way to irritate Mastermind, but I wasn’t in the mood.

  “Meet me at Location Four.”

  His voice was hard and snappy. As I expected, he was mad. I turned to see my mother staring at me. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts and her face had that I-just-ate-lemons look.

  “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to make that,” I said.

  “Did I make it sound as though it was a suggestion?”

  I snorted. “No. Did I?”

  “Voltage, you are supposed to be learning from me. A part of that is being ready on short notice and rapid deployment from a known location. Why are you making this an issue?”

  “Yeah, well, I’m looking at a very angry mother who just busted me in my suit. I am not going to make the meeting.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. I could see his narrow face in my mind, his features pinched and sparse. He would be shaking his head and maybe doing that thing where he rubs at the bridge of his nose.

  “Where are you?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Home.”

  “Oh, good. Home. That narrows it down. Home is where?”

  I stammered out my address and he hung up the phone.

  “I, umm, I think he’s coming.”

  She nodded and turned on a heel, walking out of the kitchen without another word. I grabbed an O.J. out of the fridge and went back to my room, stripping out of the uniform pants and slipping into some faded Wranglers. I wadded up the entire suit and headed for the laundry room, setting the machine on ‘heavy soil’ and adding double the normal soap load. I went back to my room and sprawled on the bed, hoping to at least get a little rest before he got here.

  It wasn’t much. When the doorbell rang I had just drifted into that twilight phase where everything seems distant and unreal. I wanted to stay there, to pretend that this wasn’t happening, to ignore the fact that my mother was about to go one-on-one with Mastermind. I imagined pulling the blanket up over my head and shutting out reality. It had worked when I was a kid, so why not now, right?

  Mom tapped on the door as she walked by. It was a formality on her part. She was headed for the door, and wanted me to know. I jumped up out of the bed and threw myself out into the hallway. She had three steps on me, but that wouldn’t be hard to beat. I cut through the dining room, skating on sock feet around the table, and slipped through the doorway to the kitchen a half-step ahead of her.

  “I’ve got this,” I said.

  “It’s my house.”

  “But he’s my boss.”

  I beat her to the door by a full two steps, and jerked it open with no fanfare of any kind. He was standing there, in the hallway, dressed in normal people clothes. From the look on his face, it was as strange for him to see me that way as for me to see him. I was stunned by the suit. Black linen with subtle pinstripes, glossy shoes, a crisp shirt of pale blue, and a tie with some kind of zigzag pattern.

  Great. He looks ready for the Supreme Court, and I’m not even dressed for a basketball court. FML, as my friend Jerry likes to say.

  “Hi.”

  And there it is: the high point of my social skills. Eloquence personified.

  “Might I come in?” he asked. I could already feel the ghostly touches of his power tickling at the fringes of my brain. I hoped it wouldn’t freak mom out too much.

  “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry,” I said, stepping aside and making a sweeping gesture with my hands.

  “So you’re him,” she said from behind me. I felt the flush on my cheeks.

  “Yes, ma’am. I am.”

  “You’re the one who is making him risk his life.”

  “All life is inherently risky. We seek to reduce the risk to those who cannot deal with the threats offered by Gifted foes.”

  “You can drop that holier-than-thou attitude, mister. My son was shot tonight!”

  He chuckled. My mom is up in his face as mad as ever, and he actually chuckled at her statement.

  “That Mako,” he said. “He loves his toys. Ma’am, I assure you, Voltage was in no danger from those weapons. No serious danger, at least. I have tested his defenses and know their limitations myself. Surely you do not think I would pit him against someone who would permanently harm him?”

  She turned and shot me a look. “Should I tell him or will you?”

  “He knows.”

  “You refer to the Captain Cobalt incident?” Mastermind asked, his question causing her to wrap her arms tighter around herself.

  “Don’t you go getting in my brain!” she commanded.

  “He didn’t,” I said. “He’s in mine. I knew what you meant and so does he. I’ve already explained it all.”

  “Ma’am, I am no fiend,” he said. “I intend to teach Voltage caution and show him that the days of going ‘toe-to-toe’ with Titans, as it were, are no more. He is learning to understand and respect his abilities, to tailor his responses and attacks to best effect, and never to overreach himself unless it is in the most dire of circumstance.”

  “What he means, ma, is I’m learning what I can do and what my limits are. I don’t jump up and hit Asmodeus in the face, because I know that’s a quick way to get hurt or worse. But if I’m the only thing between you and him, I’ll do what I have to so you can get away, even if that means I lose out in the process.”

  “I don’t want you hurt,” she said, looking at me. The look in her eyes had gone from accusing to pleading. I took a
step to her side and reached out to take her hand in mine.

  “I don’t want that either, but I know that it’s going to happen. The thing is, it’s better that I get hurt than you, or Mrs. Ceeley up the block, or Old Man Johnson in 2B, or the cop on the beat, or anyone else. I’m Gifted, ma, and I should be using that to protect people, and make their lives better, right?”

  “The essence of heroism, distilled into the words of your son. He is a fine pupil,” Mastermind said, making that weird flourish with his hands that he does when he’s presenting some kind of lesson. It’s like watching a stage magician delivering the final element of his show.

  It was strange, but I felt a kind of pride at hearing his words. I mean, I know I make fun of him and all, but he is my mentor, and his opinions are important to me. I could see by her stance and the way her expression changed that mom was proud, too. I looked at Mastermind and concentrated the way he had taught me, letting him hear my thoughts.

  Why is it that the words didn’t come that easy when I was here with her alone? We just argued.

  I am a tremendous calming influence, he thought, and a grin spread across his face. Seriously, though, perhaps you just needed me to be here to face her and give you the impetus to speak the truths you know in your heart? I cannot say. Your reasons are your own, and never will they be mine, any more than my field methods will truly ever be yours.

  Mastermind stayed, and we had dinner that evening, with my mother doting on him as though he were some celebrity. She had a wary look in her eyes, though, and I could tell she still had a few doubts. She kept them to herself for the duration.

  I had dried my uniform during the meal preparation and I laid it out on the bed to examine it. It seemed odd to be able to just get it out and not have to try and hide it.

  The knock at my door was soft and barely intrusive, and when I opened it, mom was standing there with an odd look on her face.

  “Why do you want to work with him?” she asked.

  I was confused for a moment. She wasn’t asking why I wanted to do the job, or why I wanted to learn. This was about Mastermind. I motioned her in and sat on the bed while she took the comfy chair in the corner.

  “He’s, well, he’s a thinker. He doesn’t just see a problem and go after it like swinging a hammer at a nail. I could have petitioned Slammer or The Dagger or any of the big hitter types to teach me, but I wanted someone who looks at problems creatively. I’m no brawler, ma, but I can usually hold my own. The fact is, though, I don’t want to fight. But him? He thinks. That fight we had with the Loan Sharks? He set that up so they had to come to us on terms that weren’t their own. They were at a disadvantage before they even stepped up to us. If there’s a way to solve a problem without a war, then isn’t that the way it should be handled?”

  She smiled. “You are growing up, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Clean your room. Brush your teeth. Be careful saving the world. I think that’s going to be my new phrase.”

  “It’s a good one.”

  She stood from the chair and leaned forward, kissing my forehead and the ruffling my hair.

  “Get some rest, Edward. Be a hero tomorrow.”

  We hugged and she was gone, closing the door behind her with a soft click. I sat back on the bed and then stretched out beside my uniform. I started to feel drifty almost immediately, but a thought woke me and I dialed his number.

  “Has she forgiven me for corrupting you?” he asked.

  “Probably not yet, but it’s coming. Question for you?”

  “Ask.”

  “Do you know anyone that can rebuild a fire escape?”

  Return to Table of Contents

  GEMINI RESCUE

  Caine Dorr

  “In 2007, over fifteen million people were affected by what many experts have come to label the Psi Storm and that number has only increased yearly since then. While some of the numbers vary most agree that over sixty million people were affected last year. This year’s numbers are already projecting to eighty million people and there are those who are projecting likely beyond even that number. That’s a lot of people, don’t you think?”

  None of the corporate officers on the tour had any comments. Jenna Strong motioned that they should continue along after her and everyone fell into step behind her, a sea of dark suits and white-haired executives. “We in Psi Labs do. Here’s the thing, no one is talking about this, it simply doesn’t make the national news and we think people have a real need to feel safe and protected in their own homes and around their communities during the Psi Storm.” She led the control group sent by the board of directors into the elevator.

  “The Psi Storm is due any day now. It’s a powerful force that changes the lives of millions and millions of random people on this continent every day across all of North America for a period of three to six months, sometimes more, and forty percent of North America still sees it as nothing more than a myth. That is why we do what we do here.” Jenna exited the elevator and waited for the group to catch up and gather around her at the secure entrance to the establishment’s Psi Lab.

  “That’s why we in the Psi Lab are very proud to introduce our new prisoner inductee tonight; he’s a former superhero sidekick, a psionic business entrepreneur, and owner of the newly formed Gemini Rescue, whose recent exploits within the Psi Storm have transformed him into a wanted criminal. With our government contracts, Siren Corporation was able to quickly procure him from the local authorities through our law and government assistant division.” Jenna passed through the security checkpoint and waited on the other side. She checked her data pad as the executives each passed through one by one.

  “You’re certain that this psion will be able to accomplish your current mandate, Miss Strong? We’ve authorized quite a bit of money for this program over the last quarter.” CFO Stulk passed through the security checkpoint and stood next to Jenna. He never looked her directly in the eye, instead choosing to focus on his cell phone.

  “There has never been a psion like our newest acquisition on record, sir. However, I’m afraid there are no guarantees.” She tucked her data pad under her arm and waited for the remainder of the group in silence.

  Stulk still wouldn’t look at her.

  Once the entourage passed through the checkpoint, the large security doors at the far end of the hall opened. Jenna led the group through them into a two-story observation room. Three long tables with high-tech computer communication sets built into each station filled the room on both levels. Each looked through a one way mirror into an in interview room with two simple chairs in the center.

  Rion Guard sat patiently in one of the chairs, dressed in bright orange prisoner smocks under a dark grey suit coat jacket.

  “If you’ll make yourself comfortable, I’ll begin.” Jenna made her way to the far end of the room. She passed the security check, opened the door, and locked it behind her.

  “Good morning. How are you?” Jenna took the empty seat in the room across from Rion and opened up her interview app on her data pad.

  * * *

  Rion snapped open his eyes and reality rushed back into his brain. He couldn’t maintain a strong connection with his target, Jenna Strong. She had previously-unknown psionic abilities manifesting, and somehow she was projecting into his mind a false inductee interview he’d never given. He had been contracted to oversee the evacuation of the Siren Corporation’s executive staff as the Psi Storm bore down upon it. Siren Corp wanted an experienced operator on the ground and he’d been more than happy to deposit their check. Everything had gone sideways, and he’d been cut off from all lines of support and communication. He wished he could talk to Kestrel about what was going on. Her systems were supposed to be constantly monitoring him and she might have had answers, but the storm and the damage it had caused to the building were blocking the signal from his personal comms.

  Rion could feel the shaking as wind and rain pummeled the building even through the thick co
ncrete walls all the way through the sub-flooring. The sheer energy of his corrupted psionic connection to Jenna caused him to fall and hit the back of his head on the cracked concrete floor of the building’s sub-basement. The plans for the entire campus showed that each compound shared the same sub-basement, but the tunnel between them had collapsed from structural damage due to the Psi Storm. There was no way through for him either physically or psionically. He got to his feet and had to slouch not to hit his head on the ceiling, which was covered in rusted water pipes and small ventilation chambers. Somewhere beyond all that damage were the executives he’d been charged to rescue, kept calm by what tenuous psionic connection he could maintain.

  He supercharged the psionic shield that surrounded him and his uniform. Ripples of energy extended outward from his chest and stomach. He hoped increasing his shielding would help his headache as he needed to focus on his abilities rather than his pain. He stumbled through the trash and rubble littering the pitched floor that lead to the iron grate drain. Below the grate, he could hear water rushing past, and the increasing noise suggested it was rising. It wouldn’t be long before this building began to flood. Rion focused his psi shield around the grate but it proved both too strong to move. He considered the risky proposition of separating his psi shield to form a being of pure psionic energy—a psibordinate. He could send it through the grate’s slits and into the tunnel. Perhaps it could navigate the tunnel to the next building where he could not, to reach Jenna and the other trapped personnel.

  The risks weren’t small, either. The underground river was still rising and his body might drown in it while his psibordinate was still navigating the tunnels. To further complicate matters, it seemed that Jenna Strong was manifesting some sort of psionic abilities of her own even as her own situation grew dire. The inductee interview that ran through his brain like an old movie on repeat was proof of that. He had no way of knowing how her newly-developing abilities would react to his psibordinate. There had to be another, less risky way than sending an astral-projection through the sewers.