Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  “I’m… not certain. I’ve never met another energy absorber, just one who took in damage, so I’m unsure of what their capacity usually is. I can’t honestly say if mine is more or less.” In truth, Vince didn’t know what his limit was. He certainly had one, everything in the world came with limits; he just hadn’t hit that wall yet. From the way the professors acted, he didn’t get the sense that he was working with a diminished anything. But that might come off as presumptuous; better to stick with the absolute truth as he knew it.

  “Never, huh? Well, from what I’ve heard about Korman this year, you might just get the chance at Intramurals,” Coral told him. “But it’s not really my place to talk about that. Tell me about yourself, Vince. Got any Heroes in mind that you’re hoping to intern under, or teams you want to join if you make it all the way to Hero?”

  “Honestly, I hadn’t given it any real thought until recently,” Vince admitted. “I’ve been so focused on just making it to graduation, I didn’t consider what would come next. I suppose I’d be happy with any team I could trust, and any mentor who could help me become stronger.”

  “Believe it or not, that might be the healthiest way to come in to these sorts of situations.” Coral gestured to the room where the other students were chatting with a variety of people in costumes. Vince noticed Roy and Violet were both talking to a tall man in a black and brown costume, while Mary’s discussion was with a woman wearing a cape almost like a lab coat. Alice was being approached by a female Hero in green and black, one who seemed familiar but who Vince couldn’t place before Coral spoke again.

  “A lot of these kids are going in to the situation with stars in their eyes, chasing after teams or teachers based on their prestige instead of how good a fit they are. Looking for the one that will make you the best Hero—that’s the way to really get started on your post-HCP career.” Coral paused, taking a look around the room once more. “That said, the ones who take interest in you might not be the right fit either. You need to do your own research and figure out who you think will teach you well. Then you have to make them see that, too. This is just like your HCP training: the ones who put in the extra work are the ones who go further.”

  “I see. That’s an area where I’m lacking, but I don’t intend to be for long,” Vince told her. “Thank you very much for the advice.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Between you and me, our kind have to stick together.” Coral lowered her voice to a few degrees above a whisper.

  “Pardon me, but ‘our kind’?” Vince asked, matching her tone.

  “Those who get looked at with a bit of extra suspicion, whose family lines make others assume the worst of them. Globe’s return was pretty huge news, and the fact that he’d taken time out of being on the lam to raise a kid made it through the gossip mill. Best to assume every Hero you meet knows about your connection to him,” Coral advised.

  “That’s a bit worrisome.” Vince had known the Globe connection would cause more problems eventually, but he hadn’t expected this to be the day they kicked in.

  “Some people are assholes,” Coral agreed. “But you’re not on your own out here. There’s a clause in the HCP that forbids students from being barred entrance or kicked out based on what their family members have done, and you are far from the first to be protected by it. Like I said, our kind have to stick together.”

  At last, Vince put together what she was trying to tell him. “You’re the daughter of a criminal, too.”

  “As are several of my friends and colleagues.” Coral finished her beer and unceremoniously dropped the empty cup into a nearby trash can. “It’s something else to consider when you’re deciding which mentor to pursue. While we don’t advertise our family relations, if you ask Dean Blaine, he can get a list of those with cause to be a bit more sympathetic to the situation. Being connected makes things easier. It’s a way many of us decided to do exactly what the HCP had taught us: turn a weakness into a strength.”

  “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Vince said. “Although, I think for now I’ll stick with my original plan. Better to find the best fit and hope they’re willing to accept me. I don’t want to limit my options until it’s necessary.”

  “An understandable strategy. But what will you do if the Hero you think is the best teacher doesn’t want anything to do with you?” Coral asked.

  Vince shrugged, jostling his soda and spilling a few drops to the floor. “In my time at the HCP, I’ve learned that there are some fights I can’t win, so if it comes to that, I’ll have to accept the failure. But that’s not to say I won’t fight with all I’ve got to convince them otherwise first.”

  Coral grinned and started for the bar line to get a replacement beer. “With an attitude like that, you may just pull it off. And if not, now you know we’re around. Whether or not you reach out is up to you.”

  39.

  “Miss Adair?”

  Alice turned in the direction of the voice, a small cracker smeared with cheese halfway to her mouth. The morsel nearly snapped between her fingers as she took in the woman in green and black. Carefully, Alice lowered it back to her plate, trying to yank the diplomatic instincts out from her brain.

  “Yes. I mean, that’s me. I mean… you’re Gale, aren’t you? The leader of Elemental Fury?”

  Gale smiled and dipped her head modestly. “I’m impressed you know about me. I’m mostly a Brewster celebrity.”

  “Are you kidding? That thing with the robots last year was nuts. Even if the woman causing tidal waves in Port Valens stole the media spotlight a few days later, I still caught some of the coverage. It was really impressive,” Alice said. Giant robots weren’t exactly unheard of in a world of people who treated the laws of reality like mere suggestions, which was probably why the story hadn’t rated higher, but she’d found it intriguing. Of course, given who else had been prominently on display in the situation, she’d never brought it up around the rest of Melbrook. Roy and Hershel could be a bit touchy about their dad—at least, before he’d helped train everyone over the summer.

  “Glad to hear it,” Gale told her. “We all did our best. That’s the most a Hero can ever strive for. On the subject of impressiveness, though, I have to say you were pretty spectacular yourself in there. While the highest engagement count will likely go to one of the students who were in the giant brawl, that four-person team of yours took down a lot of the other variables. This trial wouldn’t have gone as smoothly if you hadn’t picked off the stragglers.”

  It was Alice’s turn to be modest, glancing down at the pile of crackers on her plate. “Jill’s the one who had the tech to find them, and Rich made taking them down a lot easier with his stares. I was mostly transportation and backup.”

  “No, you coordinated the attack and saved your own, more dangerous power for when it was needed,” Gale corrected. “The two of us aren’t so different, in terms of ability. You seem to utilize telekinesis or some other external force while I control the wind, but in terms of how we’re best used, there’s a lot of similarity. Unfortunately, I didn’t have quite as healthy of an attitude toward teamwork when I was a senior.”

  “More of a lone wolf?” Alice asked.

  “Somewhat. Being a legacy meant there were a lot of eyes on me, and that pressure took me to some places that weren’t as productive as I thought at the time. Although it did force me to become powerful, since I didn’t trust anyone else to have my back. But that mentality comes with a very firm limit on far you can go,” Gale warned. “Anyway, it’s nice to see someone with similar abilities put on such a good showing. I just wanted to tell you that, as well as to let you know that I’ll be keeping an eye on you through the rest of the year. Obviously, you seem to know me, but perhaps do a little research on Elemental Fury as a whole. If it looks like a good fit, there might be a spot for you should you reach graduation. I think you’ll make a fine apprentice; if not for me, then for whoever does train you.”

  “Really?” Alice’s decorum seem
ed to fail her as she grasped for words. When her mind finally located something, it was the last sentence she wanted to utter. Unfortunately, she also knew it was the one that she absolutely had to.

  “I appreciate that. Honestly, I’m kind of wowed by it,” Alice said. “But I feel like I should tell you up front: despite my power, I’m not a Control student. I decided to major in Subtlety. I’d still be honored to learn under you, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want to pull a bait-and-switch if you thought you were getting another type of Hero.”

  Gale’s smile widened, just a touch, as she nodded. “That’s quite up front and respectable, Alice. All the more so considering your specialty. But rest assured, I wouldn’t make this sort of offer without understanding to whom I extended it. After last year’s robot debacle, I’ve begun to see the importance of having multiple Subtlety Heroes. We have one on our staff, but finding more has been a challenge, as our reputation pulls us into a lot of high-conflict situations. Another local team has been helping us out, but I decided it might be best to recruit our own: a Subtlety Hero who can hold their own in high-stakes combat. Someone like you, Alice.”

  “That’s… very kind of you, Gale,” Alice said. “Oddly pragmatic, too.”

  “Running a team means learning to think practically. At any rate, this is all very tentative. There’s still a year of training left, and you’ll have to make it to the final ten. I just wanted you to know that we were interested, so you could decide if you felt the same way. If not, that’s perfectly fine. I’ll understand if you want to intern under a fellow Subtlety Hero. Just keep in mind that our specializations are just that: areas where we excel. It doesn’t mean a Subtlety Hero might not need to know how to fight, or a Control Hero couldn’t benefit from some hacking skills. I might have a bit to teach you, even if we do come from different disciplines. Something to keep in mind.”

  Gale walked off before Alice could reply, leaving her with a lot to consider and a plate of crackers that no longer seemed quite so appetizing.

  * * *

  Owen Daniels, clad in full Titan costume, sat in the small room with Mr. Numbers and Mr. Transport, the three of them sipping on beers covertly “displaced” from the bar. On the screen, video of the earlier battle played, stopped only as Owen called for a pause to check some angle or other. Bit by bit, the tape moved forward as he examined the fight from all sides. Finally, it neared the end, and Owen reached for a fresh beer from the ice-filled bucket in the center of the table.

  “Thanks again for doing this,” he said, carefully pulling off the top while making sure not to rip the container in half.

  “It’s a pleasure,” Mr. Transport said, who had a few empty beer bottles lined up in front of him as well. “But you could have attended the live showing, you know. Even with your years off, you’ve still logged more than enough time to qualify for an apprentice.”

  “Wouldn’t have been right.” Owen tipped back a mouthful of his fresh beer, enjoying the flavor as it washed over his tongue. “For better or worse, there are still folks out there who react strongly to the name Titan. Better to keep the focus on the kids. Besides, I like this more: lets me go slow and get a good sense of what everyone is packing.”

  “Forgive me for saying so, but isn’t this a bit of a waste of time?” Mr. Numbers asked. In the spirit of the evening, he had cracked open a single beer, of which he’d consumed nearly a quarter. “Obviously, you’ll be offering Roy the internship.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Owen said. “My sons and I are getting along better, but I’m doubtful he’d agree to be my intern. Even if he said yes, it still might be a bad fit. Mentor and intern is a powerful relationship, one that requires a lot of trust and respect. I’m worried that the father and son dynamic I screwed up would get in the way, and that could lead to Roy and Hershel getting hurt if they disobey in the field.”

  “Then why did you want to watch the tapes?” Mr. Transport asked.

  “Not that complicated; working with my PEERS team and helping in the desert gave me a teaching bug,” Owen told them. “I think it’s high time for Titan to take an intern. Maybe it will be my boys, or maybe they’re better served by someone else. For now, I just wanted to see if there were any other contenders at Lander.”

  “And?” Mr. Transport probed.

  Owen took a longer sip of his beer, watching the screen carefully. “And this was a softball. Not in so far as the combat part—I’ll admit Dean Blaine did a good job with that—but the other stuff. I get that they were using this trial to calibrate for power; however, it didn’t tell me much I didn’t already know. When are they bringing in the new Sims?”

  Mr. Numbers and Mr. Transport exchanged one of their silent glances. “The third or fourth month’s exam,” Mr. Numbers said at last. “Dean Blaine wants to get them used to different civilian situations before springing it on them.”

  “Then that’s the one I need to see,” Owen said. “Keep me in the loop, because when that trial comes, we’ll see who’s actually got what it takes to survive outside these walls.”

  40.

  West Texas was about what Nick had expected: empty save for dust and shrubbery. The pump jacks were a bit of a surprise, though they shouldn’t have been. They dotted the landscape like giant metal versions of the novelty birds that tipped up and down in a seemingly endless loop.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d had to make a trip out of town, though his summer vanishings could be blamed on Vegas business. Nick’s trip from California had left him slightly irritable, and the sensation was somewhat exacerbated by the fact that his destination was a five-hour drive from the nearest airport. True, he could have called in a teleporter—Mr. Transport would have happily helped with this task—but at the moment, Nick wanted to keep the circle of knowledge confined. For those reasons he’d chosen to travel on the day when the others had their exam. It was one of the few times he could slip away without being missed. Everyone’s eyes, both friend and foe, were on whatever battle was happening in the depths of Lander.

  He pulled the car, rented under a false identity that tied back to neither Nick nor any of his people in Vegas, into the parking lot of a squat brick building. He was careful not to get his hopes up. This was a very long process, and even if he succeeded, he’d have to go through a lot of failures to do so. Still, he had to make the time to do the visits, because that was how he’d take those careful steps closer to success.

  Killing the engine, Nick walked out into the blistering late-August heat. For most it was daunting, but for a boy who’d grown up in the desert, it actually felt a bit homey. Adopting a quick, certain gait, he made his way up the walk and into Careful Meadows, the only long-term treatment facility in Cadsville, Texas and fifty miles in any direction.

  A nurse with marked laugh lines took gauge of him as soon as he walked in the door. Visitors to these sorts of places probably weren’t common, at least not as common as they should be, so anyone who stepped through was an anomaly that would stick out in the staff’s minds. Much as he’d have liked to avoid direct engagement, it was precisely because of this that he couldn’t delegate the task. Nick had to handle these interactions personally if he wanted to ensure they were done right.

  “Afternoon, ma’am.” Nick didn’t try to hide his youth—that would have only made it all the more conspicuous. Rather he addressed the difference in their ages off the cuff, putting the onus on her to acknowledge it further. The role he’d chosen wasn’t too far out of reach for someone who was clearly recently graduated or close to being so: a little hard work and a direct career path might have brought him there only a few years ahead of his peers. “My name is Calvin Carter. I’m here on behalf of Golden Grove Insurance.”

  From the suit jacket wrapped around his shoulders, Nick produced identification that matched Calvin’s name—the name that was also registered to the car outside. Calvin Carter was one of several fake personas he’d set up years ago, going so far as to include credit histori
es and past residences. Some he used for work, others he never touched lest they become compromised. One never knew when the need to disappear completely might arise.

  “Golden Grove?” She took the credentials and looked them up and down carefully, as though she had the skill to spot a fake. Maybe she did—Nick wasn’t acquainted with her background. However, were that the case, she still wouldn’t find anything questionable. Even if she called the actual company, his name would check out. Granted, enough digging would discern that he had no paychecks or supervisor—the hacker Nick had paid to put him in the system did have limits—but that wasn’t the sort of thing to happen on a mere phone call. “We don’t see many of your agents around here.”

  “Well, we’re a small company, and we only have a few clients in the facility,” Nick said. “But there’s been a little heat from some recent scandals lately, so the company is doubling down on checking in on their unresponsive clients. They’re so desperate for people, they’re even hiring us right out of college.” Nick smiled, and the woman seemed to relax a bit. He’d offered an explanation without calling her out on doubting his age. And the scandal was real enough—at least, the one he’d reference if she asked. It was a big world; there was always some sort of scandal one could twist to fill a need.

  “I guess that’s fine, but Careful Meadows is a top-notch facility,” the nurse informed him. “We’ve never had any instances of neglect or mistreatment.”

  “And I am relieved to hear that. The last thing I want is to have to report that sort of thing. The paperwork is a nightmare. But our company promises oversight of client care when the families buy coverage, so we do have to check in on occasion. Even at the top-notch places.”

  The nurse nodded and sat down at her computer, clacking away, probably bringing up the patients that Golden Grove represented. Nick pulled an official list from his coat pocket that would match her records—one more step to establish authenticity. There were only four people in this facility under the insurer’s representation, and Nick would have to look in on all of them to keep up appearances. Plus, if these people were doing a shit job, Nick would send a real report upstream, though that wasn’t his primary objective.