by Hayes, Drew
“And if you don’t ignore the fact that they used to be Powereds?” Mr. Numbers asked. It was the elephant in the room. Useful as this new aspect might be for Roy and Hershel, there was also the chance that it was the first sign they were seeing of the procedure going awry. Given the power that some of the other four wielded, things could go very bad very quickly if they began to have issues as well.
“Then I’d say that, since none of us know exactly what was done to make them Supers, we have no way of predicting how it is impacting them,” Professor Stone replied. “Perhaps the procedure doesn’t work equally on all Powereds. Roy and Hershel’s reaction would be an aberrant piece of data in a larger sample. The most important thing, for now, is to keep an eye on the situation and make sure we’re made aware if any other unexpected side effects emerge.”
“See, there we disagree.” Owen turned slightly, towering over everyone else in the room even while seated. He stared down at Mr. Numbers and Mr. Transport, who suddenly became aware of just how strong the man they’d been drinking with was. “I trust you two, and I believe you when you say you don’t know anything about the procedure. But that shit can’t fly anymore. We need to know what they did to these kids, or every time they show some new trait or tactic there will be people rightly wondering if it’s all about to go to shit.”
Dean Blaine cleared his throat, drawing the room’s attention and moving Owen’s stare from the suited men working hard not to squirm beneath his piercing gaze. “We’ve been trying to run that down for some time, but it’s been nothing but dead ends. Someone has worked very hard to keep the secrets of that process under wraps.”
“Funny thing about dead ends,” Owen said. “You hit them hard enough, and sooner or later they’ll bust open. Why don’t you bring me up to speed on exactly what’s been going on, and I’ll see if I can help.”
77.
Eliza took comfort in staying busy, and as the morning of Halloween arrived, she had no shortage of tasks to keep her occupied. While Nicholas Campbell might be more than happy to offer up the use of his apartment building to throw a party for his friends, that didn’t mean he planned to get his hands dirty with the details. No, he was a delegator, and with no other assets on hand, that meant she and Jerome were taking on all the tasks he didn’t feel like dealing with. Jerome was highly valued muscle and she was one of the best forgers in the world, yet their day started with Jerome running off to pick up the keg while she was tasked with getting the food Nick had ordered. Normally, she would have been peeved at the inconvenience, even if it was the way things were done, but this time she was grateful.
Any excuse that got her out of the apartment, away from Nick, was a good one. Years working for Ms. Pips had taught Eliza the value of discretion, secrets, and being able to lie with a straight face. But Nick had gotten a lifetime of the same tutelage, and consequently he was much better at seeing through falsehoods than she was at creating them. By now he certainly knew something was up, even if he hadn’t put all the details together yet. Every time she was around him, it was a constant struggle not to let anything slip, both because keeping the secret was taxing, and because deep down she truly wanted to tell him. He should know, as far as she was concerned, but the orders from up top were uncompromising. Guilt-wracked as she was, Eliza knew better than to cross Ms. Pips. Defying an order directly from the head of their organization’s mouth was an express route to a short career, and not the sort that came with a good retirement package.
So, instead of dwelling on what was waiting for her back home, she focused on getting her work done: picking up sandwiches, cupcakes, and decorations, along with a few varieties of craft beer that she’d replicate and keep on hand. Normally, she’d also be tipping them back, but she didn’t trust herself to drink the way things were, at least not until Nick was distracted with his secret task. That part, thankfully, Jerome was stuck with. He’d have to secure the location and help them slip away from the party; though, given how much alcohol she was planning to fill the place with, she’d be shocked if any of the guests remembered their own names after a few hours.
Once the supplies were picked up, she headed into the apartment complex’s recreational room where Jerome had already started decorating, hanging fake spider webs and paper handprints the color of blood along the walls. She started on the duplicating, making sure there would be enough food and drink to feed half the campus. Even as she worked, she knew she was making too much, but having a task felt good. After this, she’d help Jerome with the décor, and then… there would be nothing for several hours, until Nick wanted them to start getting ready for when guests arrived. Eliza needed to keep busy. She had to keep moving.
Eliza had pulled through far worse than this. She’d been through losing her parents to a rogue Super attack; she’d survived the streets even before discovering her powers. She’d fought her way up the ranks of an organization with no tolerance for failure, and she’d even walked away from the only person in her life she’d loved in order to protect him. Eliza was a survivor, and she would get through this, too.
She just had to keep moving.
* * *
With a good night’s sleep and time away from the HCP underground, the senior students were finally beginning to shake off some of the lingering stress from Friday’s trial. It certainly helped that the campus was in a festive mood, every dining hall decorated in faux-gore and serving food that tasted the same as usual but had “spooky” names, such as the eyeballs and entrails that were actually just spaghetti and meatballs.
In the early afternoon, well before it was time to change into costume and head out, Jill heard a sharp knock on her bedroom door. She turned to find it was technically already open, with Violet peeking through.
“Hey,” Violet greeted. They hadn’t said much since Jill had announced to the house that she was leaving the program. Neither entirely knew how to approach the other with such a divide between Jill and the rest of them. What had once been their greatest uniting force now drove them apart from her. “You still going to the party tonight?”
“I was thinking about it,” Jill said. “We did have to go shopping with Alice, so I may as well put the costume to use. Is that okay with you all?”
Violet shrugged and took a step past the doorway. Some part of her wondered if this space was cursed. First, Stella had been kicked out of the program, and now its current occupant was leaving freely. Of course, deep down, she understood that this was the normal room; it was the other three that were odd. Given how many people they’d started with freshman year, it was amazing that only one room in the house had lost so many tenants.
“It’s open to normal folks, too. Masks encouraged,” Violet reminded her. “I don’t think anyone will mind if you show up. I mean, worse comes to worse, the night will just…”
“Yeah. Be fogged over, I guess.” Jill sat down on her bed, harder than she’d meant to. She still knew the choice she’d made was the right one, but it didn’t change how scary it felt to be facing down losing parts of her memory. Especially since so much of it revolved around her friends.
“How are they dealing with Will?” Violet asked. “I mean, you’ve known he has powers since you were kids. Seems like it would be hard to pull memories of him.”
“Will already gave permission for me to keep everything with him in it,” Jill replied. “Since I’m just leaving the program, not getting expelled, they only fog over names and faces. Apparently, people who want me to remember them can opt to let me keep those aspects.”
“Really? I don’t think they offered Stella that,” Violet said.
It was Jill’s turn to shrug. “Maybe they did and she never tried to have anyone take her up on it. Maybe it’s because she was a sophomore and I’m a senior. I don’t know how this works for other people, just the way they explained it to me.”
Slowly, Violet walked over and took a seat next to Jill. “Is it scary? Not knowing how much of anything you’ll be able to hang on to?”
“Fucking terrifying.”
“Kind of figured.” With a heavy thwump, Violet’s head dropped onto Jill’s shoulder. “If it helps, you don’t have to move.”
“I don’t?” Jill asked.
“Nope. Talked it over with the others, and we all trust you. Besides, with a brother still in the program, it’s not like you’ll be tempted to the dark side that easily. So we’re okay with you still living here, even after the wipe.” Violet paused, thinking her next words carefully through before speaking them. “And, maybe, I might be okay with you keeping all your memories of me. I need to mull it over for a bit first, but I’ll let you know by Monday.”
“Violet, you don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t,” Violet said. “But I’m getting tired of saying goodbye to my friends. If there’s a way to avoid this one, I might just take it.”
After that, they fell into old habits of simple, happy chatter until Thomas began walking through the halls, reminding the house that there was a party to get ready for. Even then, they lingered for a bit, enjoying the last moments of a friendship that, memory wipe or not, would never quite be the same again.
78.
Mary rather liked the floppy hat. Outside her room, she could hear the bustle of everyone else scrambling to get ready, but she’d decided to don her costume alone. Despite the simplicity of it, she’d settled on a witch outfit with lots of layers, swirling greens and purples amidst the fabric’s dominant black coloring. Though Alice had tried to protest that it didn’t come with a mask, Mary had disproved the point by adding a matching scarf that she’d wound around the bottom of her face, concealing her nose and everything below it. True, she’d need a crazy straw if she tried to take a drink of anything—not that there would be many non-alcoholic options—but it was a worthwhile inconvenience to complete the look.
Though there had been dozens of add-ons for her witch costume—everything from broomsticks to stuffed black cats—the hat had been the only piece Mary wanted. There was something about the battered, dark accessory that she just enjoyed. Perhaps it was the worn material, or the false-aging, or the way the conical top refused to stay aloft, flopping to the side with seemingly no pattern. Regardless, it had charmed her, and as she took in the effect of it plopped atop her head, adding to the costume as a whole, Mary was quite content with her purchase.
Despite what lay ahead in their night—putting Alice under, hoping to meet the dream-walker, and the very scant chance of uncovering some answers—Mary planned to enjoy the party beforehand. Though the others knew of it too, none of them were as aware as she was of the coming change. No matter what happened at the end of the year, no matter who passed and who failed, there would never be a time in their lives like this again. Even if everyone became Heroes, there would be fewer chances for carefree frivolity. Life would push them in different directions, forcibly drifting them apart.
Come this time next year, everyone would be celebrating Halloween in a new way, ideally without the annual curse. Some might be better, some might be worse, but none would have a Halloween quite like it was when they lived in Melbrook Hall with their closest college friends. Even with all the tasks that would muddle up the later part of the evening, Mary was determined to enjoy herself.
There was only so much time left like this, and she refused to waste any of it.
* * *
The common room of Melbrook was a flurry of activity as costumes were donned, props sought out, and final adjustments made to everyone’s particular outfits. Among the madness, Alice was the lone exception, her own costume hidden away inside a garment bag hanging on a rack in her room, right next to Nick’s. She’d decided to do her unveiling along with him. It seemed only fair, given that she’d been given power over picking his ensemble for the evening. She could hardly wait to see his face when he realized what she’d selected.
Instead of primping, however, Alice focused on helping the others get ready so they could make it to Nick’s early. She and the host would need time to change, and everyone else felt like they should help set up since Nick had been gracious enough to house the event. Plus, arriving early allowed them to scout for any traps he might have planned, designed to snare them into watching horror schlock without a means for escape.
“Vince, hold still for a minute. Your straps are twisted in the back,” Alice commanded, grabbing Vince by the shoulder and dragging him over to the couch. He was clad in a purple and silver unitard with a matching mask, though the jacket draped over his arm betrayed his intent to cover up whenever possible. The ensemble paired well with Hershel’s, though he’d opted for a vest and shorts a size too big to accommodate for the eventual shift into Roy. Her hands moving quickly, Alice uncrossed the straps running diagonally across Vince’s back and patted him on the shoulder to let him know he was good to go.
Looking down, Alice noticed that she’d seated herself on a long stretch of white material. With an annoyed grunt, she hopped up, grabbed the fabric, and held it aloft. “Camille! I’ve got your lab coat over here, if you’re still looking for it.”
“Thanks.” The small woman seemed to materialize out of the crush of larger bodies, clad in green scrubs with a matching mask. Surgeon wasn’t a particularly glamorous outfit, but it came with a mask and Alice appreciated the inside joke, so she hadn’t given Camille too much of a hard time about her outfit choice.
“Don’t thank me. Just keep up with it. Where the hell is Mary? This crap is her job,” Alice said, sweeping the room to see if their de facto den mother had emerged yet.
“Perhaps that’s why she’s taking her time,” Chad suggested. “She wanted to foist the role onto someone else for a change.” He, at least, had required no assistance. Chad had selected a simple one-piece jumpsuit meant to look like an Air Force pilot’s, along with a flight helmet to obscure everything aside from his mouth. Despite the fact that Alice knew without asking that it was the first thing he’d happened to see at the store, the damn thing still fit him well. Were Angela around, there would have been cat-calling and wolf-whistles, and Alice had a hunch that if the new Hero saw any pictures, Chad might have to pack his costume for the next time he visited her.
“You could be right; revenge for all the shopping trips.” Alice headed to Mary’s room, intent on dragging the telepath out by force if needed, when an intruder stepped through the front door. Alice didn’t recognize him at first—no great shock given the flowing black outfit and mask—but she did see the sword on his hip. In an instant, she was focusing on his gravity, ready to throw him against the wall.
“Hey, Alex,” Hershel called, waving at the mysterious man in black. “You were almost late.”
Slowly, Alice began to pick up on a few of the features jutting out from the bottom of the mask, and she realized it was indeed Alex, not some poor bastard burglar who’d chosen the worst possible dorm to rob. Upon closer inspection, the sword handle was clearly plastic, though the rest of the outfit still looked pretty authentic.
“Geez, you startled me,” Alice said. “Who the hell are you supposed to be? Ghost of a ninja-bandit?”
“No, he’s the Dread Pirate Roberts.” More than one set of eyes turned to the source of the explanation, not because it was such rare knowledge, but rather because it was Vince, of all people, who had offered it up. Even he seemed to be aware of the situation’s oddness; generally he needed things from movies and television explained; this was an unusual opposite.
“I… um… the movie was…”
“Princess Bride was one of Sasha’s favorite movies,” Alex said, mercifully taking the focus off Vince. “I’m guessing she made him watch it a few times. She and I had joked about the idea of doing a duet costume, so when I saw this… sorry, I didn’t mean to bum anyone out.”
“I think it’s a lovely gesture, Alex.” Mary had finally left her room, covered in full witch regalia and almost unrecognizable, if not for those amber-colored eyes. “Now, who else needs help with their costume? We
need to get going if we don’t want to miss the start of the party.”
79.
“You think you’re really cute, don’t you?” Nick had known what the costume was the moment Alice unzipped the garment bag, but not until he was wearing it did Nick notice the efforts to which she’d gone. He stood in the apartment’s guest bathroom (since Alice had locked him out of his own bedroom), admiring the outfit. To her credit, she had kept her word about not letting him look bad. The suit was well-made, probably hand-tailored, and his hat was either vintage or an incredible reproduction. Nick was certain none of the others would catch the attention to detail, but he appreciated it all the same.
“Don’t kid yourself. I know I’m gorgeous,” Alice called back at him through the wall. “You about done changing?”
“I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. But keep pictures to a minimum tonight; if this gets back to Vegas I’ll never live it down.” Nick leaned over and grabbed his sole prop, aside from the elaborate outfit, tucking it carefully under his arm. With one last glance in the mirror, he pulled open the door and emerged into his apartment.
It was a small mercy that the others were already downstairs helping with last-minute preparation that was only last minute because he’d had Eliza and Jerome leave it for them to do. They needed to feel useful, a trait built into most of the Melbrook lot, and besides that, he’d wanted a little time alone with Alice anyway. The night would be hectic at best, and perhaps catastrophic at worst. More than once, Nick had seen meetings like the one he was trying to arrange go south in ways that left lasting consequences. And while he was prepared to bear them if needed, that didn’t mean he wasn’t smart enough to take a moment and savor things as they stood.
