The Prospects

by Daniel Halayko

  “I’m a big Golden Gryphon fan, but I also followed your career. Someday I’m going to have my own suit. Can I ask you about yours?”

  Alex opened the door to his room. “It’s an exoskeleton, not a suit. All I know is that it works except when it doesn’t.”

  Vijay sat on the bed as Alex unpacked his gym bag. “So how did you get a suit, excuse me, an exoskeleton in the first place?”

  Alex unpacked a stack of white Metahuman Affairs Bureau Training Academy T-shirts. “A hundred applicants out of thousands passed the physical and psychological screening requirements and background checks. After that, we went through Sergeant Hammer’s superhero training regimen.”

  “Sarge was brutal to us. Outright abusive.”

  “He was mean to me too. The training was the hardest three months of my life. But I wanted that exoskeleton. I dreamed so hard of becoming a superhero that, back when I was twelve, I cried all night when my DNA tests showed no significant abnormalities.”

  “I thought people who liked superheroes didn’t become MAB agents. I mean, you guys seem like you’re itching to put anyone in spandex behind bars.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong. Every MAB agent I know is a fanboy. We want to work with superheroes. It’s only when we learn how different they are in real life from what they’re like in the comics that we become jaded. But when the New York Guardians said they wanted their agent to be a hero in his own right … I don’t know anyone who didn’t apply.”

  “How did you make it?”

  “Because I didn’t care how badly Sarge beat me, I was determined to win or die trying, and I’m not joking when I say I almost died. Six trainees didn’t make it, the rest wiped out before finals. Only ten of us earned his handshake and congratulations.”

  “And you beat the other nine?”

  “I did the best in the tests. I had to run at full speed through urban obstacle courses while shooting targets under all conditions, write an essay on superhero law, and take reflex drills to show I wouldn’t hit civilians. I didn’t manage a hundred percent on any of those tests, but my average was above everyone else’s.”

  Alex’s smartphone flashed red and chirped. “Jailbreak underway at North Brother Island Metahuman Correctional Holding Facility. Request assistance from all available metahumans and ultra-athletes in good legal standing.”

  He touched the screen and it went dark. “I swear, there’s an attack on the super-villain jail every month.”

  Vijay asked, “Wasn’t that the emergency signal?”

  “Only for fully powered members of the New York Guardians. That’s not me anymore.”

  “But you were for, what, four years?”

  “I was supposed to be a reservist while working as the team’s supervising agent. I got moved up to substitute for Golden Gryphon while Jim recovered from a shattered pelvis. It didn’t heal right, so he asked me to take his place on the team. The Golden Gryphon retired and Agent Exo – short for exoskeleton – became a member.”

  “Isn’t Mister Griffin still a member, though?”

  “He signs the checks and owns the merchandizing rights, so officially he’s still team leader. He coordinates our activities from his office.”

  “His battlesuit is amazing. I’d love to see it sometime. ”

  “The suit’s hidden, but you’ve seen Jim.”

  “Yeah. It’s hard to believe that old man is a living legend.”

  “When I see him, all I think is that’s what the future holds if I keep wearing the exoskeleton.” Alex pulled a bottle of ibuprofen from his suitcase. “I have more aches and battle scars than I should at my age.”

  Vijay whistled. “I never heard that part about being a hero.”

  “Ever since accepting the exoskeleton, all I’ve done is train, fight, and recover. That, and argued with my wife more, which pushed me to train and fight harder.”

  The smartphone flashed red again. “The Bone Terror is loose. Repeat, the Bone Terror is loose in Harlem. Extra assistance requested.”

  Alex tapped the phone again.

  “Wow, the Bone Terror. You fought that thing single-handed, didn’t you?”

  “Everyone knows I did.”

  “That monster could’ve torn you to pieces.”

  “It almost did.”

  “It swept the street with you, but you still took it down.”

  “If I didn’t, lots of civilians would’ve been killed.”

  “So why not go help now?”

  “With no exoskeleton, I wouldn’t last a second against him.”

  Alex’s smartphone flashed yellow and chirped, “Hostage situation at Wall Street. All available reserves, check in for information.”

  He tapped it until it stopped. “Third incident. Must be a full moon tonight.”

  “Who are the reserves?”

  “Local neighborhood vigilantes who keep their noses clean enough to get legal recognition. Lots of them are also backup members for the New York Guardians. Some of them go on to become full members when we have an opening.”

  “I’ll bet they didn’t have to be Prospects first.”

  “It’s a new program. This city is crowded with costumed vigilantes who are trying to become famous. Some of their turf wars led to full-blown brawls in the streets. The Prospects project is designed so kids like you can actually become smart and trained and then accepted into established, legally recognized teams under the oversight of the Metahuman Affairs Bureau.”

  Vijay chuckled. “Are those your own words?”

  “I’ve been an agent for years. Sometimes I talk like one.”

  “Think we’ll get called into action?”

  “Heck no.”

  “Probably better off that way. So let me get something straight. Your suit, excuse me, exoskeleton, was bulletproof, but not computer virus-poof? How did you get a virus in it?”

  “I arrested some extraterrestrial arms dealers.”

  “Extraterrestrial?”

  “Yeah, aliens. We humans can’t pronounce what they call themselves, so we call them Skreaks because they always wear gray creaking rubber suits and speak in squeaks. They’re built like tree stumps with legs.

  “Anyway, I wanted to find out more about what they were up to. My suit had a USB port in the thumb, so I stuck it into one of their laptops to get some evidence. Next thing I knew, my heads-up-display gave me a blue screen of death.”

  The building shook. The lights flickered. A loud alarm blared, followed by the clang of a thousand sheets of steel falling simultaneously.

  “What the hell?” said Vijay.

  Alex tensed. “That’s our building alert. We have steel sheets embedded over every window and door in the building. They seal up everything when we’re under attack.”

  “Like a big shell?”

  “Exactly.”

  Alex’s smartphone beeped repeatedly. He grabbed it.

  Jim yelled so loudly Vijay heard him. “Griffin Tower is under attack. Get the Prospects to the north entrance of the research lab.”

  “Me? And them?”

  “You’ve led teams into battle before.”

  “I just met these kids. Honestly, I’m not impressed.”

  “Let’s see if training them really was a waste of time.”

  “Where’s are the other New York Guardians?” Alex asked.

  “At the jailbreak on North Brother Island. No more questions. The Iron Pirates broke through our shell!”

  Chapter Five

  “The Iron Pirates?” asked Vijay. “You mean the rogue engineer cyborgs who break into places to steal technology?”

  “Don’t know of any others.” Alex ran down the corridor to the recreation room. “Everyone, assemble. Don’t worry about costumes. It’s an emergency.”

  “Damn right,” said Deon. “I can’t hear the TV over those alarms.”

  “Mister new boss wants us to have a fire drill,” said Candilyn.

  “This isn’t a drill. We’re under attack.”


  Candilyn jumped to her feet. “Hot diggity dog! Let me get my whacking stick.”

  Deon vanished and reappeared in his Goldstreak costume. “Got dressed in three seconds. Almost made a sonic boom pulling my pants up.”

  “I told you to forget the costumes,” said Alex.

  “I ain’t going into battle in my jammies. I’m Goldstreak, damn it.”

  Trista opened her door.

  Alex pointed at her. “You, stay.”

  “She can’t,” said Jenny. “Her probation says she has to be in the same floor as the rest of us. What’s going on?”

  “The Iron Pirates broke through our wall.”

  “Are you serious?” Zany’s smile went from ear to ear. “We get to fight real villains? Finally?”

  “You’ve never fought villains before?” asked Alex.

  “Does arguing with Sarge count?”

  “If so,” said Vijay, “you lost every fight you’ve ever been in.”

  “Step off, nerdburger, or I won’t save your skinny ass.”

  “With you, I’m as good as dead,” said Vijay. “But at least I won’t die a virgin like Jenny.”

  Jenny grimaced.

  “We’re going into battle,” said Alex. “Stop acting like idiots. Fall in line and follow orders.”

  Goldstreak saluted. “Aye-aye, Major Dick.”

  Alex stepped towards him. Goldstreak jumped back so quickly it created a whoosh.

  Jenny cupped her hands. The air got cold.

  A gust of wind knocked Goldstreak against the wall.

  Goldstreak rubbed his elbow. “Whose side are you on, Jenny?”

  Alex grabbed Goldstreak’s hood and lifted him by it. “Fall in line, listen to me, or you are dead. Got it?”

  Deon rolled his eyes.

  Alex got so close he almost bit Goldstreak’s nose. “Got it?”

  “Fine, whatever.”

  Alex dropped Goldstreak and walked to the elevators. The rest of the Prospects followed.

  “You’re as flat in real life as you are in the comics,” said Goldstreak. “By that, I mean as flat as the paper you’re printed on.”

  “I don’t read comics anymore,” said Alex.

  “And you don’t do anything neat in them either,” said Candilyn. “You’re just a background character who says big words about stupid laws.”

  “Then they captured me perfectly,” said Alex.

  “Yo,” said Goldstreak, “all you MAB agents do is listen to villains complain about how mean heroes are to them.”

  “If someone makes a complaint, I investigate it,” said Alex.

  “So you’re really on the villains’ side?”

  “It’s an adversarial process.”

  “A what?”

  “I have a degree in pre-law with a focus on metahuman cases. It took me four years to lean what you can’t understand.”

  “Whatever, man.”

  “What is it with you, Deon?” said Vijay. “You kissed Sergeant Hammer’s ass but you’re busting this guy’s balls.”

  “I like Sarge.”

  “Why?” said Jenny. “He’s a bully.”

  Vijay said, “He’s so far behind the times he asked where to put the paper in his tablet.”

  “See?” said Candilyn. “There are people stupider than me.”

  “Not many,” said Vijay.

  Alex asked, “Has anyone been to the research labs before?”

  “I always wanted go,” said Vijay.

  “Meh,” said Candilyn. “What’s there that’s not in the trophy room?

  “The trophy room is full of non-functioning replicas for tourists,” said Alex. “The research lab is where Jim’s geeks backward-engineers all the fancy gadgets we get from defeated supervillains.”

  “So that’s how Griffin Industries always comes up with new inventions,” said Vijay. “No wonder Mister Griffin is so rich.”

  “That,” Alex said, “and he owns the trademarks to every member of the New York Guardians. He gets money from all of the comics, movies, and everything else.”

  “Do you get a cut too?” asked Candilyn.

  “As a government agent, I cannot accept any financial compensation from the legally recognized team under my supervision.”

  “Huh?” said Candilyn.

  “He’s a stooge, so he gets no money,” said Vijay. “It’s called a brain, Candilyn. Try something new and use it.”

  The elevator door opened to a laboratory lit only by emergency lights. The flashing red beams showed various weapons and armors once wielded by the enemies of the New York Guardians.

  “I have full access to the facility,” said Alex. “Every now and then I do a round to make sure no one’s doing anything evil.”

  The Prospects looked around in wide-eyed amazement. The walls and workstations held trademark weapons from some of the world’s most famous defeated villains.

  Vijay whistled.

  “There’s Big Bad Roy’s power chainsaw,” said Jenny.

  “And that’s Wyckedblade’s knife-sprouting suit,” said Candilyn.

  Goldstreak pointed to a jagged metal oval frame. “What’s that?”

  “Something extraterrestrial,” said Alex. “We got it from the Skreaks and have no idea what it does.”

  “Is your exoskeleton here?” asked Vijay.

  “No. The virus is attached to the self-destruct mechanism. They’re working on it in the sub-basement bomb bunker in case it explodes.”

  Alex noticed a partially dissembled antenna against the wall. It was almost Alex’s height, a little taller when in its wide circular base, and connected to many cables that branched out of the sides.

  That was the neurotransmitter, the device the Ultra-Geniuses used in their effort to take over the world. For some reason they wanted to connect it to the Empire State Building’s broadcast tower.

  “Trista, where are you?” asked Alex.

  “Right behind you,” she said.

  “Woah.” Vijay stood before a giant cannon ending with two vents on one side. “This is Sunburn’s helio-blaster. Is it true he melted a skyscraper with this?”

  “Yes. It hasn’t been disarmed yet, and it shoots out of the heat concentrator on the other end. Those big vents in front of you are the exhaust. I remember the air it let out almost overheated my exoskeleton.”

  “I need a weapon,” said Vijay. “How about that staff with blades all over it?”

  Alex grabbed a rifle that ended with a large funnel-shape aperture and slapped a battery into it. “This is Boss Sonic’s rifle. It’s non-lethal but incapacitating at low frequencies. He wasn’t exactly the toughest villain we took out.”

  Vijay cradled the rifle. “Awesome. A real weapon.”

  Alex entered a code into a keypad near the blast door on the far side of the room. It slid open to reveal a long corridor.

  “Everyone through. Mister Griffin insists on using code names during engagements so we feel like heroes, so I’ll do it his way. Gale Force and Asura, take positions at the midway point. If anyone comes through, blast them. Gale Force, use your wind power to hold them back. Asura, adjust the acoustic settings until you hurt them. Zany, stay between them. If the attackers get too close, fight them. Goldstreak, stay back. Help Zany if she needs it.”

  As the team took their positions Trista asked, “Where should I be?”

  “Mind Dame, behind me.”

  She tugged her psychic nullifier’s chinstrap. “I’m useless with this on.”

  “Better useless than dangerous.”

  A loud crash echoed through the corridor, followed by the rapid clangs of metallic footsteps.

  Alex felt naked without his suit. He had no armor, no enhanced strength, no vision and auditory enhancements, and his only weapon was his service pistol. He made himself remember he had fought without the suit for years before as a junior Bureau agent. He was field agent Alex O’Farrell, the only one of a hundred deemed worthy to become a superhero.

  That gave him enough
courage to hold his voice steady as he said, “Here they come.”

  Gale Force’s body trembled as she formed a cone with her hands.

  Asura fiddled with the levers and switches on the sonic rifle.

  “Come on, come on,” said Zany as she shifted her grip on her bladed jester’s stick. “I wanna bash some heads.”

  Goldstreak shadowboxed tensely.

  Mind Dame clasped her hands in prayer.

  An Iron Pirate ran around the corner with a roar of heavy metal thunder. His head almost scraped the ceiling. A yellow cybernetic eye let off enough light to reveal a face that was a mess of scars and circuitry. Underneath was a body of mismatched steel plates with shining wire and raw flesh visible through the joints. The logo on his chest, a skull over crossed wrenches, glowed in the dark.

  He raised his multi-barreled minigun.

  “Hit him!” shouted Alex.

  The room got very cold as Gale Force imagined the air molecules between her and the Iron Pirate clumping together. When she envisioned them falling, a gust of wind blew through the narrow corridor. The Iron Pirate slammed against the wall hard enough to make him drop the minigun.

  Beneath the wind’s whistling was a loud hum. Asura pointed the sonic rifle and kept adjusting its settings until the Iron Pirate’s armor vibrated. His human mouth contorted in agony.

  “Keep it up,” Alex shouted. His phone buzzed. He clicked the loudspeaker button.

  Jim asked, “What’s going on?”

  “There’s one here,” Alex said. “We got him pinned.”

  “Great job. Only a few made it past the steel slab we dropped over their entrance point and the pop-up lasers in the hallway. Protect the lab.”

  The Iron Pirate collapsed. Nuts and bolts fell from his body. The barrels shook out of the minigun.

  Zany stomped. “When do I get to fight?”

  “Hold your position,” said Alex.

  The Iron Pirate raised a metallic hand with spread fingers.

  “He’s giving up,” said Alex. “Keep hitting him until he runs away.”

  Zany pouted. “This is my first supervillain and I don’t get to hit him?”

  “We won without a casualty. That’s as good as it gets.”

  “Screw you, porkchop.” Zany ran down the hallway with her jester’s stick held high.