by Hayes, Drew
That was a bit of a surprise. Vince had never known about the alcohol issue. Then again, it wasn’t as though he and Michael had ever been remotely social. Their interactions had been limited to threats, fighting, and ambushes.
“I’m glad to hear you’re getting better. If this isn’t prying too much, I am curious: what’s your goal with all this? Are you trying to reapply to the HCP, or—”
“Definitely not,” Michael interrupted, the barest touch of his old force creeping back into his voice. His cheeks flushed, and he looked down into the depths of his coffee. “I’m sorry, it’s just… those sorts of environments are bad for me. I’ve come to realize that now. They bring out the worst parts of who I am, and so I’ve learned to reject them just like the booze. It’s the only way for me to keep from regressing.”
Both sat in silence for a moment, save for the occasional sips from their mugs, before Michael looked back up and continued. “To answer your question, I don’t have much of a goal. Mostly, I’ve just been focusing on getting better, on being better. I don’t know when I’ll reach a point where I feel like it’s time to go back to the real world, but when I do I’m not going anywhere near Lander. I might head back to my home town and work as a boxing instructor or something. My childhood coach was getting on in years; he might want an apprentice to eventually take over for him. Or maybe I’ll travel, working odd jobs as needed. It’s all up in the air. My paths are wide open. I like that, for now.”
Footsteps came from outside the kitchen, explained moments later when Dean Blaine and Mr. Transport walked inside. They must have really been in a hurry; Dean Blaine hadn’t even bothered to put anything warm on over his usual suit. For a sliver of an instant, the Lander HCP’s highest authority looked surprised and uncertain as he walked in on two former enemies drinking hot chocolate and coffee, respectively. Then he recovered his composure, looking as though nothing in the world was out of place with this scene.
“Vince, I see you’ve met one of Lander East’s other residents: Michael Clark. While I’m sure you’re both interested in catching up, we should really get you settled in and up to speed on what you’ll be doing here before anything else.”
“Go on ahead. I’ll clean these up,” Michael offered, scooping up both mugs and heading to the sink.
Vince did as he was told, standing from the table and walking over to Dean Blaine. As they left the room, though, he cast one glance back at Michael, who was dutifully washing the mugs before setting them out to dry.
There was almost no way anything waiting for Vince was going to top the weirdness of his first encounter. In a way, he found that oddly reassuring.
147.
Often, people would describe the bedrooms of the terminally ill as smelling like death. That wasn’t true, however. Nick had smelled death on countless occasions. Sometimes from across a room, sometimes up close and personal. Death smelled like blood, and piss, and rot. Gerry’s room had a disinfected scent; it was too clean, too empty. To Nick, these sorts of rooms had always smelled like the absence of life more than actual death, and to him that was far, far worse.
Gerry stirred as the door shut quietly behind Nick, lifting his head carefully from the inclined bed. There were machines and IVs in him, although fewer than Nick had been expecting. Then again, perhaps that made sense. This was a mission to make the end comfortable, not continue the battle. One required less equipment than the other.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the college boy come home for the holidays. So much for my peace and quiet.” Despite his frail form, he still sounded like Gerry, a revelation that pulled an unexpected weight from Nick’s heart.
“Damn right,” Nick agreed. “If you think I’m going to just let you sleep away my time here then you’ve got another thing coming. There are heads to crack, burgers to eat, and marks to fleece. Nothing ever really stops in Vegas.”
Gerry reached out and pointed to one of the chairs near his bed. “How about we chat for a little while first, and then move on to the head busting?”
Nick made his way across the room, seating himself in the chair Gerry had indicated. He knew it wasn’t going to last for long, but still, he’d hoped to keep the banter alive for a bit. This close he could see how tired Gerry really was. The already bald man had shed too much weight, and the bags under his eyes betrayed how fruitless his sleep had been. It was hard to imagine the real Gerry when staring at this worn expression, but Nick never dared turn away, even for a moment.
“You know this is bullshit, right? That Ms. Pips, Eliza, even the damn workers downstairs, all of them got to know before me? Tell me how that’s okay, Gerry. You and me… we…” Nick trailed off, for once unable to find the right words awaiting him on his tongue.
“Yeah, Campbell, I know.” Gingerly, Gerry reached over and laid an emaciated hand on top of Nick’s own. “But none of them have futures riding on staying away from this place. And if you found out, you’d have come. We both know it. This Family teaches loyalty as a religion, and you’ve always been a devout disciple. Loyalty runs in two directions, though. I didn’t want you to throw your future away over me, so I made the call not to spend these last few months with you.”
“It was a shitty call,” Nick told him.
“Maybe, but I’m dying. I get to be a little selfish and make some shitty calls.”
Nick recoiled like Gerry had struck him, pulling away from the thin hand. “You’re not dying, Gerry. I’ve got people. I’ve got connections, markers I can call in, secrets I can leverage. We know there are healers who can cure even the toughest of diseases, and I’ll get one of them here, no matter what.”
“See, this is the other reason I didn’t tell you.” Gerry kept his hand outstretched, but shifted in bed, trying to get more comfortable. “Most people I teach, they eventually learn that winning isn’t everything. If the cost is too high, if the repercussions are too severe, then it’s best to take the loss and regroup. Not you, Campbell. For you, it’s always been victory or death. Maybe you had something to prove, maybe you just wanted to show that being Powered didn’t mean you were less than any of the rest of us, but whatever the reason, you’ve always been terrible at knowing when to take a loss. In a way, that might be why you fared so well at that Hero school. I’d place a bet that a lot of them look at life the same way.”
“I’m not stupid; I don’t hang on for every fight. I just don’t roll over on the ones I know I can win. And we can win this, Gerry. Trust me. There’s even a girl in my old class I could call. She might be able to—”
“To heal a criminal? One of the leaders in a major crime organization? A man with so much blood on his hands, he…” Gerry trailed off for a moment and cleared his throat. His voice was beginning to weaken. “Don’t do this, Campbell. Don’t drag others into this place. Don’t taint the bright and shiny Heroes-to-be with the kind of grime we deal in. Don’t sully your future trying to save your past.”
For a moment, neither said anything. Then Nick reached out and carefully grasped the man’s outstretched fingers. “Is that why you’ve stopped fighting? Do you think you don’t deserve to live, Gerry?”
“Hang on, there; I’m not just giving up. I’ve been fighting this for years, and thanks to Ms. Pips’ generosity with treatment and healers, I bought myself more time than most any other man could have gotten. But you can only fight a losing battle for so long before you accept that defeat is inevitable.” Gerry broke their grip to reach for a nearby glass of water on his table, but Nick was there first, lifting it up to Gerry’s lips until he signaled he was done.
“And yes, dying does make a man take stock of the way he spent his life. Mine was not spent in the service of good. I was a criminal, through and through; the fact that I worked my way up this high in the organization is proof of that. Still, at least there are a few bright spots I can look back on and know that I did the right thing.”
“You gave a lot of people second chances, sometimes even jobs, and helped them get their
shit together,” Nick agreed.
“Sure, that too, but I was talking about you, dumbass,” Gerry corrected. “I got to have a hand in raising you, and I’m pretty sure that’s one bit of good that will endure long after all the others have faded away.”
Nick hesitated at those words, suddenly uncertain. Gerry was clearly ill; had his mind started to go along with his body? It was tempting to play along, just in case, but Nick pushed the idea aside. He and Gerry shot straight with one another, even if they couldn’t do that with anyone else in the world. Now was not the time to trample on that special part of their relationship.
“Gerry, I’m not in the HCP, you know. I got the boot. I’m not going to be a Hero or anything.”
“Christ kid, I’m sick, not dumb. I know you aren’t in the program anymore, just like I know you’re still taking care of those friends of yours. That’s what I was talking about. Those Heroes are going to be stronger and safer because you’re there watching their backs. Every life they save, every monster they stop will be in part because you’ve been in the shadows, keeping them aloft. And I know you; that’s only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to what you’ll accomplish. I have high expectations for you, Nick Campbell. Don’t go slacking off just because I won’t be around to keep you on task.”
Without meaning to, Nick lowered his head. How long had it been since he cried? Since he’d even felt the inclination? He wasn’t sure if the tears were coming yet, but he could feel all the emotion rising up in him, and he wasn’t sure how it would manifest if it reached the surface.
“I can’t… I don’t know how to do this without you, Gerry. You were the one who kept me decent, made me stay human. I need you. Please… don’t go. Not yet. Not like this.”
“As an older man, trust me when I say death never comes at the right time for any of us. There’s always more we have to do, people who still need our help. It comes when it comes, and personally, I’m thankful my reaper was kind enough to give me a chance to say my goodbyes. And you don’t need me, not anymore. You’ve got other people who love you, who’ll stand by you, who’ll hunt you across the Earth and drag your ass home if you try to run from them. You haven’t needed me for a couple of years now, and that makes me happy beyond words. I know I’m not your real parent, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see you leave the nest and fly on your own.”
Gerry reached out, but this time, rather than taking Nick’s hand, he flicked the younger man in the ear. “That said, I’m not dead yet, so how about we stop all the sad talk and you go get us a deck of cards. Bet I can still take you in poker.”
“I’ll run down to the front desk,” Nick said. He met Gerry’s eyes once more and was surprised to see a smile on the other man’s sallow face. It was fleeting, but for a brief instant, he could see the true Gerry still in there. “And you know you’re the closest thing to a real parent I ever had.”
“Don’t sell Ms. Pips short. She may not be as cuddly as me, but the woman has been tireless in her efforts to keep you safe since the accident. That’s a parent’s job, too.” Gerry’s smile grew a bit brighter. “But thanks for saying that, Campbell. I never had kids, but if I did, I couldn’t be prouder of them than I am of you. Now get a hustle on, and order us some burgers while you’re at it. One upside to all of this, cholesterol can kiss my ass.”
Nick did as he was told, leaving the room and pausing in a nearby bathroom to compose himself. No matter how shaken he felt, he needed to present an aura of control and competence for the employees. It was one of Gerry’s first lessons, and Nick certainly didn’t intend to cast aside such teachings. Especially not now.
148.
Vince lay on the rough stone, panting. Dimly, from far in the distance, he could make out the occasional boom echoing from elsewhere on the mountain. Another of the few people here, no doubt, pushing themselves to their absolute limits. He hoped they were making faster progress. Vince was accustomed to training, used to working his body hard and pushing through his limits. But even with all that experience, this regime was still quite draining. Literally, in fact.
Around him was nothing, save for a long path that led back to the main building and the small section of concrete where he was currently lying. Other than that, he had only open air, snow, and rocks to deal with. Barren as the landscape was, that was also what made it perfect. Here, with no concrete cells or nearby school, Vince could fire off shots he’d never have dared let loose within Lander. It wasn’t just about training his speed at building up energy, although that was certainly a large part of the process, but also creating attacks that hit with as much force as he could wield. There was a limit, it seemed; Vince was discovering that not even he could release an entire wildfire’s worth of flame in a single go. Like trying to funnel a lake through a hose, even with tremendous pressure built up, a nozzle was only so large. Electricity was a little easier; thankfully Mr. Transport was running Vince (along with a set of lightning rods) to and from various storms every night to recharge so he always had plenty on hand, but even then he was discovering that only so much could be channeled into a single strike.
Kinetic energy, on the other hand, was a different animal. Vince didn’t know if it was because his body was designed to deal out kinetic damage or if it was just the simplest to wrangle, but so far he’d been able to void his whole reserve with a single punch no matter how much he absorbed. They’d been using Lander East staff members with enhanced strength to refuel Vince, and the sessions were getting longer each day.
Picking himself up, Vince took a survey of the area around his small stone patch. The mountain was pockmarked with scars from his training—boulders turned to rubble, scorch marks all along the ground, entire sections of snow burned away. He started to build an electric shot then thought better of it. Along with working on his output, Vince was also trying to get better at rapid absorption. If he’d been a little quicker in the battle with Professor Cole, they might have been able to freeze her cloth and hold her in place. It would have been a less showy victory, but also a safer one from a practical standpoint. With it being so cold out here, this seemed as good a place to practice as any.
Taking a deep breath, Vince felt the heat on his skin. Minute as it seemed in the freezing landscape, he knew there was actually a tremendous amount. He could feel it pushing against him when he focused. Vince allowed the heat to flow in and dragged all of the warmth around it along for the ride. On the stone, ice began to form as water in the air froze solid. It worked its way out bit by bit, a steady progress but also a slow one. Dropping the temperature of an area was easy; achieving a true freeze was a whole other matter.
“Not too shabby.”
It took more of Vince’s self-control than he was proud of to resist the urge to whirl around. Even after being here for several days, seeing Michael around and chatting with him on occasion, the sound of that voice coming from behind put Vince on edge. The reaction was a just one, born of necessity during their feud, but it no longer served a purpose. That Michael had either been wiped out along with his memories or thoroughly purged in his time at Lander East. Or perhaps he was faking it to an incredible degree. Either way, he probably wouldn’t risk it all for a potshot at someone who was able to beat him two years and lots of training ago.
“Thanks,” Vince replied, halting the absorption. “I learned to do areas a while back, and while I’ve gotten better about focused absorbing, I can’t seem to join the speed and the wide coverage very well. Taking this long in battle makes it a pretty limited technique.”
Michael turned in place, looking over the scene of widespread destruction that Vince had left in his training’s wake. “Yeah, when I see all this, ‘limited’ is definitely the first word that comes to mind. If someone with your kind of power is stressing out this bad, competition in your class must be crazy damn stiff.”
“It is, but that’s not the point.” It was strange to talk to Michael this way, like they hadn’t traded blows and blood on the battle
field, like he didn’t remember how it felt to fight for progress in the HCP. This version didn’t, though, and somehow that made conversation flow a bit easier. “During my last trial, there was a fight where we might have won earlier if I’d been able to freeze our opponent. I couldn’t, though. I wasn’t able to drop the temperature far or fast enough.”
“But you still won,” Michael pointed out.
“That time. When I need the technique again, who knows if things will work out the same way. The next occasion I have to freeze someone, it might be life or death. Same goes for when I need electricity, or kinetic power, or fire. I have to be capable with every tool at my disposal, because there’s no telling when any one of them could be the thing that keeps a civilian or fellow Hero alive.”
“Seems to me you’re putting a whole lot on yourself,” Michael said. “I’ll admit I don’t get the full training experience being here, but even I know they constantly tell you that no one can do everything. Even Heroes have limits.”
Vince shook his head. “There’s a difference between lacking the ability to do something and failing to wield your skill to the best of your ability. While my power has its limits like everyone else’s, it comes with a lot of versatility. Mastering every aspect is how I’m going to be strong enough to make it in the Hero world.”
A gust of wind blew across the snow, stirring up the white powder and momentarily chilling both men. When it was done, Michael jerked a thumb back toward the main building. “They sent me down to let you know lunch was ready. We should probably start heading back that way.”
“Thanks,” Vince replied. “I’ll be up in a few minutes. If I have to head in, I may as well squeeze in a little more training and empty out some energy reserves.”
