Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  “You’re wrong there,” Abridail replied. “Not about Alice needing protecting, but about Shelby not seeing who she became. Though Shelby has precious little control over what she sees, every bit of it is dedicated to watching Alice, or at least the future versions of her.” He paused, glancing back at Alice, perhaps a bit more guilt behind those eyes than before. “Your mother is always watching over you, in whatever way she can manage.”

  “Abridail, was she the first of us?” Alice swept her arms out, gesturing to Nick and Mary. “That’s what this whole expedition is technically founded on: learning more about the process, maybe getting a few clues we can follow. We were also hoping for information on Globe, but since that seems off the table, I just want to know about my mom. Was she the first Powered to try and be turned Super?”

  This time, there was no quick reply. Abridail sat down slowly on one of the stools in front of the juice bar, his hands turning the green smoothie back and forth.

  “The answer is yes,” Abridail said at last, “but a very complicated yes. If I told you what happened, I think you would leave with undue hatred toward the one who tried to change her. If I accept this deal of yours, then I do it on my own terms. I show you the events that I deem are necessary, in the order that I determine to be most relevant. You need to see for yourself, to feel what they felt, to truly understand how it all came to this.”

  “That’s well and good, as far as sentiment goes, but we’re on something of a clock,” Nick said. “Had to use a knock-off this time, which means we’ve only got so long before the power fades.”

  “Then I’ll show you what I can, and you’ll come back for the rest.” Abridail finished his smoothie and dropped the glass over the edge of the bar, where it vanished before hitting the floor. “You’re asking me to betray my friend, someone I care about deeply. At the very least, I have the right to do that on my own terms.”

  To Alice’s surprise, Nick looked over to her rather than responding. “Alice, as a practiced bargainer I think this is as far as we’re going to push him. It’s up to you whether the deal is good enough. Given how vague he’s being, we might end up with more questions than answers if time runs out.”

  He had a point, but they’d also managed to make a little headway with Abridail. Alice wasn’t inclined to give that up; the Subtlety major inside her knew just how precious even the slightest bits of intel could be. Still, if he was baiting them into some time-wasting mental goose chase, it could end up being more trouble than help. She needed to get a sense of where he was going with this.

  “What are you going to show us first?” Alice asked.

  “Where it all… well, actually, that’s not true. That part was a lot longer ago. I’m going to show you where your part of the story began, to kick things off. Specifically, I’m going to show you why you lost your mother,” Abridail said.

  “Isn’t the ‘how’ a bit more important?” Mary pointed out.

  “Not in this case,” Abridail replied. “So much of your lives, so much of what is waiting for our world, stems from what happened to Shelby Adair. If I’m telling the tale, then I want you to know the why before all of it. I want you to understand why she, and others, did what they did.”

  It was still vague, and could be misdirection, but Abridail was offering to show Alice her mother. That wasn’t something she had it in her to pass up, even if it turned out to be a waste of time. Slowly, she nodded.

  “You’ve got a deal, Abridail. We get our answers on your terms. Now, let me see my mom.”

  85.

  Tailing the jester proved to be easy, so easy that Will found himself more on edge the longer it went on. Working with Professor Pendleton, other Subtlety majors, and the simulations inside the Blonk had accustomed Will to dealing with cunning, well-trained operatives who would spot him at the slightest mistake. This was so easy it was unnerving, which was inadvertently teaching Will a good lesson about dealing with more mundane opponents. At any rate, the jester was mostly darting about, hanging to the sidelines and looking for something that she wasn’t finding.

  The longer he watched her, the more sure Will was that he’d seen this woman before. She wasn’t an attendee of the Take Back Lander movement: those faces he’d committed to memory far too well for a simple mask to fool him. Yet there was something fleetingly familiar in her all the same. Playing the odds, she was likely a person he’d met during his time on campus, or someone from the HCP who hadn’t scored an invite. But they’d made a point of talking to the entire class, so that should have ruled out the latter… unless, of course, she wasn’t in their class.

  That was when it clicked. Will realized where he’d caught sight of the woman before. It had been in the hallways, walking between classes. There were so many black uniforms in the early part of the year, so many faces that tended to blend into the background. But Will was smart, and he’d been training for the past few years to do things exactly like recall a face he’d only glimpsed. As soon as he came upon the idea, his mind bubbled with half-lost images, tossing them to the surface and confirming his hypothesis.

  It was a relief, overall. No clandestine spy or cunning opponent had infiltrated their ranks; only a freshman who’d decided to crash a senior party. Truth be told, Will admired how ballsy the move was. He’d have never had the gumption to try something like it when he was in his first year.

  Of course, such things couldn’t be allowed to merely pass. The seniors were supposed to set a standard for the freshmen; it would hardly do to let her think she could pull off such shenanigans. The only question now was how to bust her. Will continued trailing her, following slowly, racking his brain for what method to use.

  Oddly, the question that kept popping up over and over was one he wouldn’t have expected: What would Angela do?

  * * *

  It didn’t take long for Abridail to reshape the world around them; unlike Mary he had a literal lifetime of experience working in the mental realm. Although, as the new world faded into view, Alice began to suspect she’d been tricked. Abridail had said he would show the group where her part of the story began, but there was no Alice to be seen in the bright sunshine of a day long since past. Instead, she saw people in suits, some better fitting than others, all seated and staring ahead, to a small crowd gathered around…

  Alice’s breath caught in her throat as she understood where they were. The sight of her mother, wearing a grin that would have seemed silly if it didn’t radiate sincerity, dressed in a flowing dress and looking so beautiful was a vision that stole any words Alice might have managed. Mary, however, was able to drag a few up.

  “She’s gorgeous. And she looks just like you, Alice.”

  That wasn’t technically true. Seeing her mother in three dimensions for the first time, Alice could pick out a few differences between them. Alice had at least two inches of height on her mother, and her mouth didn’t quite form the natural smile as easily as Shelby’s did. Still, there was no denying that the resemblance was uncanny, so much so it made Alice’s heart throb with loss. She steeled herself, refusing to let the pain through. This was going to get a lot harder before it got better.

  “Lovely as the bride is, and I do offer my compliments, have either of you noticed how many other familiar faces are in this scene?” Nick pointed to the groomsmen behind a young Charles Adair, a Charles looking more joyful than Alice could ever recall seeing him in the modern day. She recognized Professor Pendleton and Professor Hill—or just Sean and Blake at this point in time. They were both smiling, in spite of appearing to be on the verge of tears. It made sense that they would be in the wedding party, since they were Shelby’s brothers, but Alice couldn’t place the person directly next to her father, the one fulfilling the best man role. He seemed familiar, yet his features didn’t stir any recollection. Such was not the case all around, however.

  Mary’s gasp was audible and echoed through the scene that they only now realized was completely silent. “That’s… that’s Globe.�
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  “Are you sure?” Alice asked.

  “I sat across from him at a dinner table in Vince’s mind without any mask. That’s not an experience I’m going to forget anytime soon,” Mary replied. “Why the hell is Globe your father’s best man?”

  “They were on a team together,” Nick said. “Although, that seems more like it would garner an invitation than being best man.”

  “On that note, this whole wedding seems to be a who’s who for the Class of Legends.” Mary was looking away from the groomsmen now, and as Alice followed her gaze, she understood what Mary was talking about.

  Clarissa, the nice woman who’d come to tell them about life after being a Hero, was in the bridal party. Victor, the SAA rep they’d met, was sitting in the crowd, along with Dean Blaine and a man who looked an awful lot like Chad—probably his father. Judging by the wide shoulders and occasional Super hair or eye color, there were probably enough Heroes at this wedding to repel an invading army.

  “Alice, I know Alchemist was a year behind the Class of Legends,” Nick said, carefully taking in the scene. “Have you ever asked your dad how, exactly, he and Black Hole ended up on a team with three of them?”

  “We’re not big on communication in my family,” Alice replied. “The better question is what the hell we’re supposed to get from this.”

  “A feeling, I suppose.” Abridail reappeared, stepping out from behind the old man who was presiding over the wedding. “I needed a few moments while I constructed the first true scene, so I decided to let you see this while you waited. From here, the real tale begins, but I wanted you to witness this moment in time, to know that the story begins with joy. Your mother and father, your whole family… it was filled with so much love, Alice. Try to hold on to that as we go forward. To remember that love, more than anything else, is what motivated these actions.”

  Abridail lifted his arms, and the sunlight began to fade.

  “Everyone, clutch tightly to this moment; take comfort in it as best you can. And, if possible, please forgive me for what I am about to show you.”

  86.

  Sobbing was the first thing that hit their ears. The house was dark, lit only by afternoon sun streaming in through slits in the blinds. Alice felt a sense of near-familiarity, like she’d been here before, but couldn’t recall it. The hallways and rooms were small, a stark contrast to the hollow mansion that she would eventually think of as home, yet there was a warmth to this place that was missing from her eventual dwelling.

  At first, the sobbing seemed to be coming from nowhere, but as she scanned the room, Alice eventually found the source. It was Shelby, pulled into a tight ball on the floor, weeping with the sort of hoarse, tired voice that spoke to hours at the task.

  “Mom. Mom!” Alice was moving before she could think, trying to wrap her arms around Shelby only to have them pass harmlessly through.

  “It’s a memory, Alice, and I can’t let you interfere with it.” Abridail’s voice was choked, and he pointedly avoided looking directly at Shelby.

  “Why is she crying? Who did this?” Sorrow was replaced with fury as Alice struggled vainly to try and comfort her weeping mother.

  “No one did this, Alice. Not unless you believe in higher beings, and I doubt you’d want to hold them accountable for this, if that were the case. This just… happened. No one did it. There’s no one to blame.”

  Alice was about to demand an explanation, but before she could, a new noise filled the air. It was the sound of a lock being turned. Seconds later, the front door opened to reveal Charles Adair. He seemed chipper, a mood quite out of place as far as she was concerned. That lasted for less than a moment, when he caught sight of his wife on the floor. Moving so fast Alice didn’t even have time to step to the side, he was next to Shelby, offering her the comfort that Alice hadn’t been able to.

  “Shelby? Darling? What’s wrong? What happened?”

  At first, it seemed he was only going to get sobs in response, but eventually Shelby croaked out a single word. “Alice.”

  “What about Alice? Is she okay? Where’s our daughter?”

  More sobbing, harder now, and another word. “Bathtub.”

  Charles Adair went white, treating Alice to yet another new expression on her father’s face: Fear. Unmitigated terror was in his eyes as he bolted up from Shelby’s side and hurtled into the bathroom. He flipped the switch on so hard that the plastic cracked, flooding the room with light to reveal…

  Nothing. It was empty, pristine even, if one ignored the toothpaste tube on the counter. Charles stared, obviously uncertain of what to make of the scene before him, then spun around and ran into a nearby bedroom. The observers followed to find him staring into a wooden crib where a cheerful baby with golden locks cooed at him, reaching up with her chubby arms and tiny fingers.

  Charles looked as though he might faint with relief as he stared at his daughter, reaching out and gently running his hand over her head. Alice couldn’t recall a single time her father had been so openly affectionate to her, and for a moment she hated him just a little more. If it had been outside his capacity as a person, that was bad enough, but to know that he could love—and had still kept her at such a distance—made it all the more hurtful.

  Charles watched his baby for a few moments longer before heading back toward the living room, no doubt to speak with his sobbing wife. Nick, Mary, and Alice went to follow, but Abridail blocked them at the door.

  “It will take him a long while to calm her down, and there’s nothing to be said that any of you needs to know about.”

  “What was all that, anyway?” Alice asked. “Mom… Shelby… she’s beyond distraught. But as far as we can see, everything looks fine.”

  “My guess is that it’s not what we can see that matters. It’s what she sees.” Nick’s voice had lost its ever-present tint of snark and humor, a fact which worried Alice almost as much as the sight of her sobbing mother had.

  “He’s got the gist of it,” Abridail confirmed. “Alice, you know your mother has visions of the future. When you were born, her power began to perform… strangely. The visions came on stronger, more frequently, and almost always about the same subject.”

  “Show me,” Alice demanded.

  “I’m not sure that’s wise,” Abridail cautioned.

  “You said this whole thing is about understanding what happened to my mother. Well, if that’s the case then these visions seem pretty damn relevant. You’ve obviously been in her head; I think you know what she saw. So show me, show us, what was so terrible.”

  Rather than replying, Abridail simply walked out of the nursery and across the hall. Alice followed, so set on her path that she almost didn’t feel Mary’s hand slip into hers, or Nick’s arm around her shoulders. No one said a word as they passed back into the bathroom. Everyone had their own suspicions of what would be awaiting them, and while none were exactly certain, they all knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

  Abridail stood there, waiting for them. As they entered, he stepped to the side, giving them an almost perfect view of the room. Slowly, as if waiting for them to stop him—which he very well might have been—Abridail raised his hand and snapped his fingers once.

  Instantly, the room changed. Shelby was on the ground near the toilet, her eyes rolled back so that only the whites were showing. Water was pouring across the floor from an overflowing tub, soaking the floor mat and bubbling as it passed through the crack in the door. And in the tub, with the faucet still going full blast, Alice could just make out something bobbing in and out of view. Something unmoving, with golden hair.

  Mary’s grip tightened as Alice brought her free hand to her mouth and tried with all her might not to throw up. Another snap filled the room and the scene was gone; it was just an empty bathroom once more. But none of them could forget what had been there, what Shelby Adair had foreseen.

  “I… I didn’t…”

  “No, Alice, you never died,” Abridail assured her. “But that didn’t
stop your mother from getting visions of it. No matter what she did, no matter how many layers of protection your father put in, she still kept getting them. The exact way it happened would change, but two things were always there: Shelby caught helpless in a vision, which then leads to your death.”

  He paused, looking at the empty bathroom once more. “As if watching her daughter’s death wasn’t bad enough, your mother kept seeing you die because of her. And with each passing instance, she became more and more certain it was going to happen. That’s why she got desperate.”

  “It was for me,” Alice whispered, still haunted by the recent vision. “That’s why she didn’t want me to know. That’s why you tried to keep it secret. I’m the reason my mother tried to go from Powered to Super. I’m the reason she lost her mind.”

  87.

  The jester turned from one room, her eyes ready to scan the dance area for the umpteenth time, when she found her vision suddenly blocked by four bodies. Though they were dressed as turtle-like creatures with different colored masks and presumably some training in Ninjutsu, the outfits didn’t fool her for a minute. She knew what this group was even as they formed a small half-circle around her and began to steer her outside: these were HCP seniors. Masks or not, there was something about the seniors, more than just the trained musculature, that gave them away. It was a confidence, a certainty they moved with, like they’d fought their way through so much they were prepared for anything. She deeply, desperately wanted to move like that one day, which was probably why she’d done something as batshit crazy as crash the party.

  No one made a scene as they slipped outside into the brisk October night. If anything, it looked like a group of friends heading out to get some fresh air. Had the jester struggled she might have bought herself a little time, but she didn’t even know what these people’s powers were. The only bits of information she had to work with were that they were more trained than her, she’d invaded their turf, and, judging by the coordinated costumes, they were a group used to working as a team. None of that boded well if she made more waves, so she went along peacefully, not so much as speaking until they were out the door and some ways out from the ruckus of the party.