The Prospects

by Daniel Halayko

  Trista gently laid the phone at Alex’s door.

  The next morning, Alex held the bottle upside down. His numb tongue felt a little warmth when he licked the last drops.

  Someone knocked.

  “Agent O’Farrell?” said Vijay. “Are you coming out for training?”

  “I’ll be out at eight.”

  “It’s ten-thirty.”

  Alex patted the nightstand. His hangover made every movement hurt. “Where’s my phone?”

  “It’s out here,” said Vijay.

  The broken bar of light under the door stung Alex’s eyes.

  “Call Jim.”

  “Who?”

  “Mister Griffin. Tell him I need more … medicine.”

  “But what about training?”

  “Do what you did under Sarge.”

  “What about our personal training sessions in the afternoon?”

  All the yelling made Alex’s headache worse. “I don’t care. Watch TV.”

  Vijay left.

  Alex spent the next hour neither asleep nor awake but still in bed. He thought of a thousand things to say to Emily. He came up with a dozen reasons why he was better off without her. He made a hundred reasons why she should take him back. He thought about Calvin. Would he ever see him again? How much longer would Jim need him now that the suit was gone? How could he pay alimony if he lost his job?

  Was this his life now - sleeping in a basement, living out a suitcase, surrounded by a sorry excuse for a superhero team he ever saw? How did so many years of work lead to this? He spent hundreds of hours training in an exoskeleton that was now in the hands of supervillains. If he had spent that time with Emily, they’d still be together.

  Maybe.

  Someone knocked.

  “Leave the bottle,” said Alex.

  A man with a deep Texan drawl said, “You gonna open up or should I tell Jim to send Sarge down?”

  The threat of Sarge motivated Alex to find his feet. He opened the door and squinted against the light at the sinewy man. Silver and violet segments in his armored bodysuit stood out against the dim light.

  Alex grabbed at the bottle of scotch in the man’s hand. “Not in the mood to play, Bart.”

  Arbalest moved the bottle out of Alex’s reach and stepped into the room. “Neither am I. I’m the best crossbowman in the world, the legendary Arbalest of the New York Guardians in full costume, delivering your booze. There are many better ways I could be spending my time. For example, did you know the Hell’s Kitchen Helpers got beat up last night? They won’t be useful as reservists for a while. I’d rather track down whoever did that than be your personal bartender.”

  Alex made another grab at the bottle. Bart threw it straight in the air and caught it behind his back. “Did I tell you I used to be in a juggling troupe?”

  “A hundred times,” said Alex.

  Arbalest juggled the bottle and Alex’s smartphone. “I miss those days. A fella gets to know who he is on the road, setting up somewhere new every few days. Everything you run into is a little conflict. You get a little more damaged, but it makes you more defined, kind of like the wind does to the mountains. Ever wonder if that hurts the mountains so badly they want to drink their troubles away? You think about that on long trips between gigs.”

  Arbalest flipped on the light switch. He caught Alex’s smartphone but not the bottle of scotch, which shattered on the floor. “

  Oops. Guess I don’t have the touch anymore.”

  Alex shielded his eyes. “Bart, you asshole!”

  “First, it’s Arbalest when I’m in costume. Second, Jim asked me to bring the bottle down. He never said I had to give it to you. Why don’t you call Jim so Sarge can bring down another bottle for you? Here’s your phone. It was cracked when I found it outside your door.”

  Alex sighed. “Sarge would pick me up by the ear, throw me in the shower, and call me something so nasty I’d never forget it.”

  “Good. Pretend I did that. So here’s what’s going to happen. As we used to say in the juggling troupe, the show must go on, no matter how dog-tired everyone is.”

  “We aren’t jugglers.”

  “No, we’re the New York Guardians. The only thing stronger than our combined powers is our individual egos. We're the people who save the world but can't stand being in the same room with each other. And we already have one guy without a suit who’s drunk, divorced, and depressed, we don’t need two.”

  “Jim told you about the divorce?”

  “Teammates don’t keep secrets from each other. I don’t know what to tell you about Emily, she’s as pretty as a desert sunset. Hell, I never understood what a woman like her saw in a stooge like you.”

  “I lost her,” said Alex, “and the exoskeleton’s gone. All I have left is this tiny room in a basement.”

  “And a team to train.”

  Alex shook his head. “Can’t be a hero anymore. Those who can’t do, teach. And I got a villainess, a coward, an idiot, a nerd, and a fat girl to turn into something useful.”

  “They’re here because they want to be heroes. Do you?”

  “Go away, Bart.”

  “Not until you answer this.” Arbalest stomped in the puddle of scotch. “Are you going to lick this up, broken glass and all, or you going to act like those kids’ lives are in your hands?”

  Alex got to his feet.

  “Good,” said Arbalest. “The kids are waiting in the gym. Find your own way there. I got crime to fight.”

  Alex forced himself to walk to the gym despite the throbbing headache. He brushed his thinning hair with his hands and took a deep breath. He had a job to do. Then he could get back to bed.

  The Prospects wore gym clothes instead of their costumes. All Alex could think was, in a real gym class, he didn't know which one he'd pick last.

  Candilyn stopped punching the heavy bag. “Nice of you to join us, fearless leader.” Her nose was covered in thick bandages, her eyes were covered by purple bruises, and many small scabs formed the shape of a footprint on her face.

  “Let’s get started.” Alex squinted. “What did Sarge make you do?”

  “Calisthenics, first aid training, stuff like that,” said Jenny, “then we put our costumes on for individual training after lunch.”

  “Sarge led the class and did every exercise,” said Deon. “You look like you’ve been doing forty-ounce bicep curls.” He mimed drinking a bottle.

  Alex shook his head. “Fine. How did personal training work?”

  “Sarge focused on our specialties,” said Vijay. “It should be in his notes.”

  “I left the tablet in my room,” said Alex.

  “You really suck that bad?” said Deon.

  Alex rubbed the bandage around his neck. “It’s my first day.”

  “Our teacher is a drunk who needs a suit to do anything,” said Candilyn.

  “Stop,” said Trista. “Leave him alone.”

  Vijay said, “Little miss miserable finally speaks.”

  “And she says something stupid to protect the only person sadder than her,” said Candilyn.

  “Don’t pick on Agent O’Farrell,” said Trista. “He’s not doing well.”

  “True that,” said Deon. “He needs a little-birch villainess to stand up for his drunk ass.”

  “You know,” said Alex, “Being a drunk, or a villainess, is better than being a coward. Why don’t you run into a closet and piss yourself?”

  “Oooohhhhh,” said Candilyn.

  “Hey,” said Deon, “I was scouting ahead.”

  “And you missed the second and third Iron Pirates.”

  “I was checking the …”

  “Checking what? The closet? You almost got us killed. Goldstreak? More like Yellowstreak.”

  Deon shrunk.

  Candilyn grinned. “Now you’re talking tough.”

  “What would you know about tough?” Alex said. “You got knocked out with one punch. There’s no word for how pathetic that is.”

/>   Candilyn grinded her teeth.

  Alex pressed on. “We had that cyborg pinned, but you ruined it. Everything that happened – your face, my neck, Jenny’s eyes, Trista’s … burns, that’s all your fault!”

  “Don’t forget Deon’s pants,” said Vijay.

  Alex continued as Candilyn started to shake. “You’re more of a danger to yourself than any villain.”

  Candilyn screamed and pounced on Alex with her fists raised.

  Alex kneeled and caught her knees. They both fell to the ground. Alex put one arm under her thigh and the other around her neck and held her down with a cradle pin.

  Candilyn thrashed desperately but fruitlessly.

  Alex said, “I’m not letting go until you calm down.”

  Candilyn stopped struggling.

  Alex let go of Candilyn. She jerked away and sulked.

  Vijay tapped the side of his goggles. “Five seconds and she’s out. I’m uploading that to Youtube.”

  Candilyn lunged at Vijay. He sidestepped her and ducked behind Jenny. “Fat girls are great cover.”

  The air got cold. Jenny hit Vijay with a burst of wind strong enough to knock him off his feet.

  “Enough!” Alex shouted. He pointed at Jenny. “You, never use your power against a teammate, no matter how stupid they are. It’s something heroes don’t do.”

  He pointed at Vijay, “You, don’t humiliate your teammates. They can’t depend on you if you’re an asshole.”

  He pointed at Candilyn. “You, follow orders. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

  He pointed at Deon. “You, never insult your teacher. Kindergartners know better than that.”

  He pointed at Trista. “You … thanks for your help.”

  Trista flashed a small smile.

  Alex stepped to the center of the room and stood up straight. “I trained under Sergeant Hammer and I know Lady Amazing, so I don’t blame them for this being the worst team I’ve ever been a part of. Forget free time, from now on, we meet at six a.m. and train until ten p.m. We may get called on another mission tomorrow. If you fail, it won’t be because I didn’t try my hardest to make you heroes.”

  After a long silence Deon asked, “So what do we do now?”

  Alex checked his watch. “It’s close enough to noon. Go get lunch.”

  Chapter Nine

  Alex went back to his room. He mopped the floor, swept up the broken glass, wrapped new bandages around his neck, and put on a hooded sweatshirt with a stenciled MAB logo.

  His headache subsided to a dull throb, but he didn’t think anything except ibuprofen pills would stay in his stomach.

  Candilyn waited in her full Zany costume. White greasepaint covered her black eyes and made small piles on the scabs in the shape of a footprint. Her nose was less swollen than one broken the night before should be.

  She moved with anxious stiffness, like she expected a fight but didn’t want to throw the first punch.

  Alex turned on his tablet. “Sarge’s schedule says that today’s lesson is history. What does that mean?”

  “He’d tell me war stories, quiz me, and say I was stupid every time I missed an answer.”

  “Let’s skip that. Tomorrow is unarmed combat training. What’s that like?”

  “We used to spar. He’d pin me. I didn’t like where his hands ended up so I called him out for being a nasty old pervert.”

  “Hands end up in strange places when practicing locks and throws. I’ve gotten touched in places my wife won’t go while learning them. Don’t take it personally.”

  “One time he spanked me.”

  “I’ve seen him spank men who talked back. He’s old-fashioned.”

  “After he did it to me, I complained to Mister Griffin. Since then, Sarge made me lift weights while telling me how weak I am.”

  “There’s nothing else on here except some notes.”

  “What do those say?”

  Alex closed the tablet. “You’ve been insulted enough. What did you do with Lady Amazing?”

  “She taught me karate and tay kin doo.”

  “You mean tae kwon do?”

  “That’s it. She made me do these kaytihs …”

  “Katas.”

  “Whatever, I don’t speak Chinese.”

  “Japanese.”

  Zany looked down. “Why does everyone always have to tell me how stupid I am?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. Let’s change the subject. It looks like you leave here most evenings.”

  “Hey, I’m allowed. I’m not on probation.”

  “Where do you go?”

  “Sightseeing. I got no money, but there’s a lot more to see here than there is back home.”

  Alex checked the tablet. “Your bio said you’re from Poughkeepsie. How did you end up here?”

  “Well, there were kids in Poughkeepsie into the punk-jester thing in my trailer park, and they weren’t too mean to me. Hey, are you going to arrest me if I say I did something bad?”

  “Depends on how bad it is.”

  “Well, we really wanted to start a band but, after buying our costumes, we didn’t have any money for instruments. So we broke into a warehouse to steal some stuff.”

  “You don’t have to say anymore.”

  “But when we got there, another gang was already robbing the place. We wore our costumes, so they thought we were vigilantes. They ran off and went right into the police because we set off the alarm.”

  “Okay,” said Alex. “Why aren’t you in jail?”

  “Because the cops assumed we were newbie superheroes. One of them mentioned the Prospects.”

  Alex chuckled. “You failed so badly as a villain that you applied to be a hero?”

  “Free room and board in Manhattan and training? Seemed like a sweet deal. We all applied. I was the only one who passed the drug test.”

  “Really? You?”

  “Hey, I never touch anything harder than Sprite. My step-brother got messed up on meth. I won’t let that happen to me.”

  “You may not know Japanese, but you’re definitely not stupid.”

  Candilyn’s toothy grin went from ear to ear. “No one’s ever said that to be before.”

  “Why do you want to be a fighter?”

  “Because I heal fast.”

  “But you still have black eyes and scabs.”

  “I don’t heal that fast. I also suck at fighting.”

  “That’s true.”

  Her grin vanished. “You’re a dick.”

  “This morning, why did you try to pounce on me?”

  “I was mad and …”

  “No, why a pounce?”

  “I dunno.”

  “When you closed in, I grabbed your legs. All I had to do after that was hold your shoulders and you couldn’t get up. It’s called a center of gravity. For men, it’s in the shoulders, for women, the core.”

  “So what should I do?”

  “Not attack me."

  “Well, duh.”

  “You’re long-limbed. You have reach. If you made me attack you, you’d have the advantage, but you gave that up by closing the distance. Let’s try it again, only this time let me come at you.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Keep me away.”

  Alex stepped towards Zany. She pushed him back with a side kick. Alex lunged forward again. She stepped back and threw a roundhouse kick. Alex caught it and swept her supporting leg. Zany landed flat on her back.

  “Are you going to feel me up, like Sarge would?”

  Alex extended a hand to help her up. “Snap your kicks so I can’t catch them. Let’s try again. And think about this. All combat is expansion and contraction.”

  “Is what and what?”

  “Getting bigger and smaller.” Alex slowly threw a punch. “If we both get big, the bigger one wins, and I weigh more so I will. But if you get small when I get big, you can move into a better position and get big.”

  Candilyn sidestepped. “Oh, so, like, when you p
unch, I wait for you, then kick.” She tapped his stomach with a front kick.

  “That’s it. Do it again, but faster.”

  After about an hour of sparring interspersed with tips, Alex said, “I can’t take much more of this.”

  Zany wiped sweat and a swath of greasepaint. “At least I learned something without being insulted or molested.”

  “Sarge abused the hell out of me during training, but it worked. I still hear his voice giving insulting advice when I fight.”

  “People always say mean things to me. It’s no big deal.”

  “So if I don’t, you may remember more.”

  “It’d sure keep you on my good side.”

  “Fair enough. One more thing, if you don’t like being picked on, why are you mean to Trista?”

  “Because she’s a villainess.”

  “You almost were.”

  “I mean, we got along at first, but she didn’t tell me about what she did. Vijay found that out. It’s like she didn’t tell the whole truth, which is kind of lying.”

  “I don’t care. Lay off her.”

  “Whatever. Write it in a fortune cookie, sen-see.”

  Zany left and Deon, wearing his freshly-laundered Goldstreak costume, entered without a word. He didn’t look at Alex. He went straight for the functioning treadmill and turned it on.

  “Hello,” Alex said.

  Goldstreak started the treadmill. “Step off. I know what I’m supposed to do.”

  Alex unplugged the treadmill. “You’re supposed to listen to your trainer.”

  Deon spoke slowly. “Sarge had me run, so I run.”

  Alex looked at the tablet. “You’re right, nothing’s listed but speed training.”

  “Plug it back in.”

  “You don’t do what I say, I don’t do what you say.”

  “We’ll never see each other again after I go to the LA Champions, so back off.”

  “You aren’t going without my final approval.” Alex tapped the tablet. “Mister Griffin even sent me an e-mail. See?”

  “And you’re not going to approve me because you don’t like me?”

  “I’m not giving you approval because you don’t deserve it. The Champions have Road Ripper, and his top speed is five times yours. You’re barely faster than a speeding car, and according to Sarge’s notes you haven’t gotten faster after weeks of dedicated training. Heck, even the slowest High Plains Hero is faster. And those guys are losers.”