Alex followed Jim into the elevator. “You mean her proposal about training metahumans with weak powers and rehabilitating minor villains?”
“She called them the Prospects because she’s too nice to call them the Rejects.” Jim punched a button marked with a zero and the elevator doors closed. “We’re stuck with the losers not even the most pathetic superhero team wants living in our basement.”
“I’ve been meaning to visit those kids, but then the Skreaks showed up. I got so busy busting up their attempt at selling extra-terrestrial weapons I barely spent any time at the tower.”
“Let’s go meet the kind of kids who live on our basement.”
“Do any of them show potential?”
“After six weeks of training, no.”
“Isn’t Lady Amazing still training them?”
“She was until two weeks ago. We got a tip that Le Parrain moved his operations to the US. You know she’s got an ax to grind with France’s number-one criminal mastermind. Sarge asked to take over. I figured he’d give them some discipline.”
“Sarge? You trusted Sarge to train them?”
“How bad could he be? He trained you and ninety-nine other guys while we developed the exoskeleton.”
“And six of those guys died, so …”
The elevator doors opened. A deep-voiced man shouting, a girl crying, and several other whiny voices blended into a deafening cacophony that echoed through the open door that led to the gym.
“He better not have killed one of them.” Jim slapped his cane against the metal door until everyone but the crying girl shut up. “What’s going on down here?”
And, again, two young women, two young men, and the hulking superhero Sergeant Hammer shouted at once. The only one not shouting was a tiny woman with her face covered. She sobbed loudly.
Jim slapped the wall again. “One at a time!”
Alex looked at the crying girl curled into a fetal position with her hands over her face. A braid of black hair stuck out from the bulky brown helmet – which Alex recognized as a lead-and-magnet-lined psychic nullifier built to block mental superpowers - strapped to her head.
Jim pointed his cane at a heavyset girl with blue streaks in her black hair. “Jenny, get her out of here.”
She nodded, helped the crying girl to her feet, and led her out of the gym.
Everyone looked at Jim when he said, “Sarge, you first.”
Sargent Hammer, who looked every bit as broad and powerful as he did on the cover of his comic book with his bulging biceps and perfect white teeth, said, “A weakbody wiped out. Nothing more to report.”
“Nothing?” A gawky girl with purple and pink hair poking from under a bandanna said. “You son of a …”
Jim slapped the wall again. “Wait your turn!”
A skinny boy rolled up his sleeve. ““Look what he did to me in unarmed combat training.” He pointed to an ugly bruise on his dark skin.
Jim looked at an athletic boy. “Deon, you called me down here. Do you think Sarge is too tough?”
Deon shrugged. “Sarge isn’t being tougher than our enemies are going to be. I say he’s all right.”
“Kiss-ass,” said the gawky girl.
Jim said, “Sarge?”
“I’ve seen better than these maggots wash out in basic training.”
“I’m not happy with how you’re handling this.”
“I’m not happy with these kids. They’re the worst team ever assembled.”
The gawky girl said, “Screw you, G.I Jerk.”
Sargent Hammer grit his teeth.
Alex recognized the expression. Sargent Hammer made that face before going into battle.
The boys instinctively flinched. The gawky girl showed no fear. Her long limps moved sharply, like she looked forward to a fight.
Jim broke the tension by saying, “Prospects, go to the recreation room. Watch some cartoons.”
The gawky girl glared as she left with the boys.
Sergeant Hammer said, “Pathetic little shits. I say throw them out with the garbage.”
“Slow down,” said Jim. “They’re all metahumans.”
“They’re barely human.”
“If we throw them out, this whole investment was a waste of time and money.”
“If you don’t, you’ll waste more time and money.”
“Things were quiet when Lady Amazing was their teacher.”
“Don’t blame me. I’ve been training soldiers since World War Two. Alex can tell you I’m a good teacher. He was the best of the class I got into fighting shape for the Agent Exo suit project.”
“To be fair, we were MAB agents before we signed up,” said Alex. “We were tough and dedicated, but you were harsh enough to make a former Navy SEAL cry.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Sergeant Hammer, “The Prospects are a disgrace. Lady Amazing coddled those punks. I brought the hammer down. They couldn’t take it.”
“I don’t want to throw them out without Lady Amazing saying it’s okay, and she’s too busy tracking down Le Parrain’s shell businesses to do that.” Jim looked at Alex. “You said you wanted something to do? How about some babysitting?”
“Me?”
“We have a spare room in the living quarters. Take this assignment, you solve two problems at once.”
“They live here?”
Jim nodded. “Free room and board. One of them can’t leave Griffin Tower without supervision due to probation restraints.”
“Agent, don’t you have a wife and son?” asked Sergeant Hammer.
Jim said, “He’s headed for the big ‘D’.”
“Why?” asked Sergeant Hammer. “You cheat on her?”
“No.”
“Beat her?”
“No!”
“Pay the bills?”
“Yes.”
“Then forget her. You did all a man should. Broads these days don’t know how good they have it. Jim, don’t involve the agent. He’s got enough to worry about. I can smack the stupid out of the Prospects.”
“And that’s the kind of attitude that makes me think you can’t,” said Jim. “Alex has been through training more recently than you. Plus, you know how driven he gets when he starts to enjoy an assignment. He could really like this job.”
“He won’t want to when he sees who’s on the team.” Sergeant Hammer handed Alex a computer tablet. “Look through their files.”
Alex browsed the first one. The gawky girl’s picture was on top. “Candilyn Wyznowsi, codename Zany.” He slid the screen to see a picture of the girl with her spiky purple and pink hair uncovered, white greasepaint covering her face, and a frame of close-fitting white bands over a purple bodysuit. “She looks fun. Close-quarter combat, huh?”
“She can’t fight her way out of a wet paper bag,” said Sergeant Hammer. “Couldn’t outwit one, either.”
He clicked to the next page. It was the athletic boy. “Deon Campbell, codename Goldstreak, speedster.”
“He follows orders,” said Sergeant Hammer. “Easily the best of the bunch. He wants to join the LA Champions.”
“But his top speed is a hundred miles per hour,” said Alex. “That’s the slowest I’ve ever seen for a metahuman designated as a speedster. And only two full minutes of endurance at top speed? That’s barely anything.” Below was a picture of the boy in a metallic gold suit. “At least he looks the part.”
The next page had the heavyset girl’s picture. “Jennifer Feng, codename Gale Force. Can reduce the density of air molecules fast enough to generate air currents.” Her costume was a light-blue bodysuit under loose scarves and skirts that concealed her figure. “Cute smile.”
“She’s a sad sack of fat,” said Sergeant Hammer. “All she does is make wind. Useless power.”
Next was the skinny boy. “Vijay Gupta, codename Asura. Asura? What the hell is that?”
“He says it’s something Hindu,” said Sarge, “but I say he’s a pencil-necked smartass.”
�
�It’s official. We ran out of superhero names.” Alex looked at Asura’s picture. His costume was a black trenchcoat with neon-green piping.
“So a clown, a slow runner, a chubby girl, and a nerd. I see why every other team rejected them, but they don’t scare me.”
“Check the last one,” said Sergeant Hammer.
Alex slid the screen. It was a dark-haired olive-skinned frowning girl. He deduced it was the one who was crying. “Trista Gianni, codename ...” Alex’s stomach turned to led. “Mind Dame. No, this can’t be the same one.”
He scrolled down. It was the same picture he found tragic and terrifying two years ago. It was her in a fishnet catsuit and a hooded cape, but what Alex really noticed was her arrogant smirk. It was the same expression she had when she almost forced him to commit suicide.
“She mind-raped you, agent.” said Sergeant Hammer. “That’s the kind of monster we should execute, not rehabilitate.”
“She’s been in this building for six weeks? And no one told me?”
“You could’ve come down any time,” said Sergeant Hammer.
“Trista spent some time in jail before offering to testify against her old gang,” said Jim. “In return, we put her in the Prospects under strict probationary requirements.”
“Huge mistake,” said Sergeant Hammer. “She had Lady Amazing wrapped around her finger with a phony sweet-girl act. I brought down the hammer.”
“You and she don’t get along,” said Jim. “She never tried to escape under Lady Amazing, but she made two breaks for it under you counting that incident last night.”
“I had a word with her in private. She won’t try to sneak out again.”
“We want her rehabilitated, not broken. Maybe Alex will do better.”
“Not me.” Alex handed the tablet to Jim. “Not after what she put me through.”
“You’re the man who took down the Bone Terror, a walking ton of muscle and spikes,” said Jim. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a ninety-eight-pound girl.”
“She’s a metahuman,” said Alex. “That makes her scary.”
“The nullifier helmet keeps her harmless.”
“Except for her lies,” said Sergeant Hammer. “Don’t believe a word she says.”
“Definitely no,” said Alex. “I’d rather take a vacation.”
“It’ll only be for a week or so. Lady Amazing is running out of leads on Le Parrain. Either she’ll get enough information to arrange a raid or she won’t. Either way, she’ll take over again.”
“Can’t Arbalest or Stormhead babysit these kids?”
“They’re on active patrol. I can’t have them down here and keep the city safe.”
“And we all know Harry or Professor Photon or whatever he changed his name to this week is horrible with people,” said Sergeant Hammer.
Jim said, “Alex, you said you wanted a project. If you do this, I’ll get my geeks working overtime to fix the exoskeleton until it’s fixed or Lady Amazing comes back. Whichever comes first.”
“I’d help out if Mind Dame wasn’t on the team, but …”
Sargent Hammer leaned close to Alex’s ear. “That little bitch is one incident report away from going back to prison. You can be the man who signs it.”
Alex grinned. “One report, huh?”
He didn’t think of himself as a vindictive person, but the thought of getting revenge on the person who gave him the most humiliating defeat of his career lit a fire inside him. He’d be the one in a position of power over her.
Alex took the tablet back. “Jim, get that exoskeleton fixed soon.”
Chapter Three
Le Parrain squinted to see the diamond-lined sweeping hands on his Rolex. “Ten o’clock. I do hope they won’t be late.” He breathed deeply through his oxygen mask. “I don’t have much time left.”
A man in a blue suit with a red tie stood at the side of his bed. “Should I call them, sir?”
“Non. These men must be treated with respect, even if they don’t deserve it. Adjust my pillow so I can sit up.”
Le Parrain hated to make his bodyguards adjust his pillow and prop him up in the bed. He’d gladly do it himself if his arms weren’t too frail to support his own weight.
It didn’t seem fair. The withered feet in slippers before him once walked so many kilometers through the French countryside. When he was young he didn’t particularly care for the Nazi’s ideas, he only knew they paid better than the French Resistance. He spent months pretending to oppose the occupying soldiers so he could find where the supplies they cached for the approaching American armies.
With a crude map in his hands, he led a team of Gestapo agents to the cache. The few rebels defending it died quickly. It seemed a done deal. He started planning on how to spend his francs when the first Gestapo Agents screamed.
And that was when the world changed. It only took one sight of Sergeant Hammer to make the young man who would become Le Parrain realize nothing could be the same again.
The huge American with a sledge hammer slung over his back was not a normal human. He had no fear of the Nazi’s bullets. He held a Gestapo agent with each hand as if they weighed nothing. With almost no effort he threw them both down with enough force to break every bone in their bodies.
Those feet, now so withered, were strong enough to run far away. He still dreamed about running through the foggy French countryside, far from the ambush. The distant screams of slain soldiers echoed in his quieter moments.
Later, everyone heard much more about Sergeant Hammer. American newsreels introduced him as a gentle giant who taught children to play baseball when he wasn’t posing for cameras. To the French he was a modern Hercules who ran to the front lines against the retreating Third Reich. The Nazis tried to minimize his efforts, then ignore them, then tremble at the mention of his name. It ended with famous pictures of him smashing German eagles with his sledge hammer after peace broke out throughout Europe.
From a distance Le Parrain learned how foolish it was to fight them on their own terms. The media reported their victories, downplayed their losses, and completely ignored the atrocities they committed in battles. That left the rebels, the misunderstood geniuses, the exiled mutants, or anyone else able to earn only temporary pyrrhic victories. Then they would fake their deaths or otherwise disappear from the heroes’ attention until, for reasons only known to themselves, to try again.
To Le Parrain, there was no point in fighting a war he couldn’t win. But if others wanted to fight, he was happy to help them. Especially if they were willing to pay.
He expanded from small smuggling routes to an international syndicate by outwitting, outmaneuvering, and outspending the do-gooders. He made a fortune from more obvious villains by recruiting henchmen, reselling doomsday weapons, building lairs, and even harvesting the organs that gave others powers so others could implant them into their own bodies. It didn’t matter that the henchmen were often incompetent, or that the weapons seldom worked, or that the lairs had weaknesses a child could find, or that the re-implanted organs seldom granted powers, because whatever happened he collected his money.
Sure, there were close calls, and even a few defeats from both heroes and rival villains. But no one ever laid a hand on him because he always had an escape plan ready. That was another lesson he learned from that fateful meeting with Sergeant Hammer.
Odd, really. He had outlived so many enemies on both sides of the laws, but the first real superhero he ever met was only a few blocks away in Griffin Tower. And he was as powerful as ever, while Le Parrain got weaker every day.
He had to do something about that.
Someone knocked on the door. A woman’s voice said, “Turndown service.”
The man in a blue suit with a red tie to the left of the bed said, “Should I get that?”
Le Parrain said, “I will not leave this bed. Send her away.”
The man on the left drew his pistol, turned off the safety, and quietly went to the door.
A loud thump against the window startled Le Parrain and the remaining bodyguard.
The bodyguard looked at the winged thing that clung to the window. “What is that? A bird?”
“No,” said Le Parrain, “It’s not a real animal.”
Thanks to his recent cataract surgery, Le Parrain saw the bird that hovered outside the window had metal feathers. It put its claws against the glass and spun them in opposite directions. The cut a circular hole barely large enough for the bird to fly through.
“Monsieur,” said the other bodyguard in a tense voice, “The Shade Blades are here.”
Le Parrain turned. Two men in bodysuits that changed their shade of black with the light stood behind his bodyguard. Each held a long knife against his throat. One held the bodyguard’s pistol in his free hand.
Le Parrain’s thin lips smiled. “Hello, Shade Blades. Please unhand my bodyguard. He is no threat to you.”
One Shade Blade said, “But are you a threat to us?”
“I don’t threaten anyone. I am a businessman, not a thug.”
The other Shade Blade said, “Our senseis said you were not to be trusted.”
“Your senseis are dead,” said Le Parrain. “They took away your identities to make you Shade Blades, but you overthrew them to regain control of your fate.”
“There is no more self,” said one man in black.
“All Shade Blades are equal,” said the other.
“Your senseis and I did not always agree,” said Le Parrain, “but this deal will benefit every member of your organization.”
The metal parrot landed at the foot of Le Parrain’s bed. It whirred and turned its head to Le Parrain.
Le Parrain waved. “Bonjour, Captain Rust.”
The parrot’s beak opened to reveal a speaker. “You should know that this drone’s feed is being sent to the rest of the Iron Pirates’ visual and auditory cybernetic implants. I keep no secrets from my crew.”
“That is your decision,” said Le Parrain. “And you should know that two Shade Blades are here.”
The Prospects Page 3
