Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  His friends walked over not long after Wilson left, Vince sheepishly clutching the printed out voucher that detailed his winnings. Nick took a quick peek at the paper and discovered that his friend was now up by over $350. The guy was on fire, and he looked more embarrassed than excited.

  “You swear this is all natural?” Vince asked, brandishing the slip.

  “Truthfully, I’m as surprised as you are,” Nick told him. “But hot streaks do happen, you know. I say we ride this one out. Let’s go watch the fountain show outside, then take Vince to another casino’s slots. If he hits a big one, I know the perfect steak place where we can celebrate.”

  156.

  Casinos in Las Vegas never closed. It was a truth that endured for years upon years. Whenever the urge to gamble, drink, or otherwise participate in sins that would part one from their cash struck, the casinos were there with open doors to welcome them in. It was a sound, necessary business model that everyone, from the largest of chains to the smaller off-Strip establishments, followed.

  Which was why so many people were confused to see the early morning light break over a casino with locked doors. Granted, the sign on the door said the situation would only last for two hours, and the timeframe was such that most of the tourists and gamblers would be sleeping off the night’s activities, yet none of that changed the fact that this flew in the very face of tradition and expectation. When the doors parted once more, it would be to admit a surge of customers as rumors spread and people came to try and discern what had caused such an unusual event.

  But while those doors were locked, the employees were gathered inside a massive theater, usually meant to host a magician renowned for tricks so good that many suspected she was actually a Super. It wasn’t the perfect venue; however, it was one of the few places large enough to hold a crowd of this size, and practicality won out over ambiance. In the front row, surrounded by people his age most of the staff had never seen, sat Nicholas Campbell. Some of the staff, the ones who would have time to go home and change afterward, had come in black, while those expected to be on the floor afterward were wearing their usual attire. No one begrudged them that; they were just doing their jobs to the best of their ability. Gerry would have encouraged such dedication.

  The minimal whispering that filled the theater died out as a figure stepped onto the stage. For nearly all, it was familiar; Ms. Pips was one to frequently check in on her casino and workers, always making sure they knew the boss was around and wouldn’t tolerate mistakes. Some of the attendees, the ones off in their own section, those not wearing service-personnel attire but instead fine suits and dresses along with hardened stares, had even spoken with Ms. Pips on occasion. They were the few and the rare, though. She tended to leave most of the employee interaction to Gerry and other subordinates, both for the casino work and the other side of their business.

  Her walk was slow, but not frail or unsteady. She was simply a woman who went at whatever pace suited her, and who would not be hurried unless she deemed it necessary. Eventually, she reached the center of the stage, where a microphone and a small table were set up. On the table rested very little: only a picture and an urn. Ms. Pips halted when she reached the microphone, looking out at the small sea of faces and lightly clearing her throat.

  “I’ve never been one for speeches, and our time is brief, so I’ll try to keep this concise.” While it fell somewhat short in terms of grand opening lines, there wasn’t so much as a whisper in the theater. She commanded the full attention of every person in the audience, and she knew it.

  “When we were planning this service, putting together the list of who should be given a shift off so they could attend, it was suggested that we make a point of prioritizing the people whom Gerry had personally impacted. The ones he’d hired, or trained, or coached, or helped get their life straight—the sorts of things he somehow found more time than anyone else to do. Within an hour, the list was so large that we realized there wouldn’t be enough staff left to cover the floor, and we hadn’t come close to completing our list. That fact alone says more about the kind of man, boss, and friend Gerry was than anything I’ll be able to tell you about him.”

  Sniffles had already started running through the theater, mostly from the casino staff, though a few came from the section of hard-eyed people in fine apparel. A man whose massive muscular build could be seen through his suit handed a hanky to a woman whose hunter-green hair matched the color of her dress.

  “Gerry was a good man, despite what he might have thought. Too good for this business, honestly. He had a gentle heart, which made the hard aspects of his job all the more difficult, but he did them anyway. Because Gerry was loyal to a fault. Whatever he said he’d do, it would be done, and if he gave you his word, you could always trust it. That’s a rare thing these days, especially in a city and business like this one. I’ve got countless stories I could tell to illustrate the point, but I’m not going to do that. I like to keep my private matters private, and frankly it’s unnecessary. I know that nearly all of you already have your own stories about him that encompass what kind of man he was. So together, let’s take a moment of silence to reflect on those memories.”

  Silence fell, broken only by the occasional sound of muffled crying, which was forgivable in context. After several minutes, Ms. Pips cleared her throat once more and the attention leapt back onto the stage. “I hope you all picked a good one to remember. That’s probably enough out of me; I don’t want to use up all the time we’ve got. Once I leave the stage, please feel free to come up and say your own goodbyes to the urn, if you’d like. We’ve got the buffet opened up for you all once you’re done, serving mostly breakfast and, at Nicholas’s insistence, burgers from some shack halfway out of town. Apparently they were Gerry’s favorite. Anyway, feel free to eat, talk, and share your memories with one another. Because when someone leaves this world, that’s how they live on: in the memories and lessons they left us with. And I think we all know there’s no shortage of those where Gerry is concerned.”

  Ms. Pips turned away from the microphone, taking a step over to the part of the table where the urn rested and gently laying her hand down on top of it. Her eyes closed, and for a few seconds she looked genuinely human, instead of so distant and imposing that she may as well have been a creature from mythology. Then the moment passed, and she walked off the stage.

  Nicholas Campbell was the first one to follow her, and no one made any attempt to move until he was up there. Even those who’d never met Nicholas—new hires brought on while he was away at college—knew how much Gerry had cared for the boy. He’d often talked at length about him, pride shining in Gerry’s eyes at nearly every mention of his name.

  For once, Nicholas said nothing. He merely stood on the stage, staring at the urn and picture quietly, before nodding once and heading down the stairs. His friends, motley assortment that they were, stood at the bottom waiting for him. When Nicholas left, so did they. Probably bodyguards, from the looks of them, although the way they reached out to comfort him was a bit more familiar than what was considered proper in that line of work.

  With Nicholas done, others made their way up: criminals and card dealers, bad guys and bartenders, all shoulder to shoulder, saying their goodbyes to a man who had crossed between both worlds and made each one a little better.

  When the last person was finally finished, Ms. Pips reemerged, this time flanked by a pair of men in crisp suits, and picked up the urn. She cradled it carefully, brushing off one of her flunky’s attempts to carry it for her. It wouldn’t leave her grasp until they were back in her office, and she set it down on the part of her mantle she’d already selected.

  It seemed only fitting that her right-hand man stay nearby. She liked to think Gerry would have preferred it that way.

  157.

  Nick’s friends hung around for a day or so after the funeral, but eventually Vince had to head back to his training. After that, the others slowly peeled off, one by one, each askin
g Nick if he was sure he was okay several times before finally heading back home. Alice was the last to leave, and Nick knew if he’d asked she’d have happily stayed by him for the rest of Winter Break. But he didn’t make that request. Much as he loved them all for their support, Wilson Evers had been right. Distractions were only good in doses, and with Gerry gone there were things Nick needed to face. Things that had to be handled without them around.

  The summons came two hours after Alice left. Eliza arrived at his door to find Nick waiting for her. He knew this was coming. It was inevitable, and he wanted to face it head-on. She led him through the halls, up the elevator, and to the wide door of Ms. Pips’ office. The guards checked him over, and then one pulled the heavy entrance open so Nick could pass. He stepped through silently, waiting until it had been shut once more to proceed.

  Her office had a lovely view, a grand look at Las Vegas and the desert beyond. Even though she was only a few floors higher, the vantage point made it seem like an entirely different world. When Nick was a child, he’d loved staring out those windows, seeing the city laid out before him. As he’d gotten older, he’d grown to covet that view, to imagine himself in this office. Standing here as someone more adult, it seemed... smaller. More confined. He loved this city, but he’d seen more of the world now. Nick knew how much lay beyond that desert.

  “How are you doing?” The words seemed to come out of nowhere, as Ms. Pips looked up from her desk and met his eyes. “Holding up okay?”

  “I’m as good as I can be.” Nick finished the trek forward and took a seat in one of the open chairs in front of her desk. “It’s been rough, but I’m coming to terms with everything. Thank you for letting my friends stay here.”

  “We all need our support from time to time.” She stared at him, waiting patiently. While she’d been the one to summon him to the room, this was really his meeting to lead.

  Despite being lost in the swell of emotion and loss, both of them knew what Gerry’s departure meant for Nick. There was a reason he’d gotten the most training, the best education, and endless support. Gerry may have thought of Nick like a son, but that had never been their formal relationship. Gerry hadn’t been ordered to raise a child; he’d been tasked with creating a successor. It was Nick’s turn to serve as Ms. Pips’ right hand—and one day, if he proved himself capable, take over this office when she was no longer able to hold it. There had never been any pretense otherwise; this had been his path for as long as he could remember.

  So it was that the next words Nick spoke were difficult, and dangerous.

  “I’m going back to Lander.”

  Her gaze didn’t waver, nor did she seem surprised. “Do you remember, about a year ago, when you sat in that same chair, telling me the same thing? When you, you demanded to leave this town and go back to playing games with your friends? I told you before you left to remember which of us had made that demand.”

  “Because you wanted me to feel like it was my fault I missed Gerry’s last year, when you could have told me at any time.”

  “I wanted to, Nicholas. I really did.” She blinked, leaning back a little in her chair, and Nick caught a glimpse of how tired Ms. Pips really was. This job, this life, it was a constant drain. There were never any vacations or time off. She was the job, through and through. That would be him one day, if he followed her footsteps.

  “I had a folder with his medical results in my drawer, and I knew I could have made you beg me to stay if I’d played that card. I could have ordered you to slit your friends’ throats and you would have thanked me for the opportunity if it meant staying by his side. But I didn’t do that, because I promised Gerry that I’d keep his secret, and he truly believed that going to Lander was better for you. Personally, I’m not so sure about that. However, seeing as we’re near the end of your education anyway, I’m willing to give you your way one last time. You can go finish out your degree, Nicholas. Those are useful to have, and with only a semester left, it’d be silly not to complete yours. But when it’s done, that’s enough. I’ve been a good sport about all of this; I’ve let you have your way and spend your recent years as you see fit, even knowing how much you’d resent me for it. After graduation, it’s time to start doing the job you were trained for.”

  She was right; this was what he’d spent his life preparing to do. Nick could see his whole future spread out before him, almost like the golden roads the night he’d had his power enhanced. It wouldn’t be long, maybe a decade at most, before he’d be the one in charge. Running the Family—his aspiration since childhood, when he’d wondered if a mere Powered could ever command enough respect to pull it off. Now, it was in his grasp; all he had to do was take the first step down that path.

  “With respect, I must humbly decline the offer,” Nick said. “I know this is what I’m supposed to do, the role I’m supposed to take over, but I’m not the right fit for it. Not anymore. If I take the job, thirty years from now it will just be more of the same. We’ll be in pissing contests with the other Families. Maybe I’ll win a few more skirmishes here and there, but ultimately nothing will really change. I can do more than that, and I will. I just can’t do it from here.”

  “You feel like you’re too good for the job now?” Ms. Pips didn’t seem particularly angry; however, that wasn’t as comforting as it should have been. She was known for her ability to hide fury, often slipping a blade between someone’s ribs without so much as a twitch in that placid expression.

  “No, I’m not good enough.” Nick smiled despite the very real stakes of the situation he was in. He didn’t even want to; it came unbidden, which only served to prove his point. “Those friends—and, let’s be honest here, Gerry—have made me too soft to fill this office.”

  “You’d be surprised how quickly it can harden you back up,” Ms. Pips replied.

  “I don’t think I would be surprised at all. And that’s part of why I’m turning it down. Last year, I got to see who I was before Lander, and I didn’t care much for him. If I came back, I’d slowly turn back into the man I was, instead of growing into someone new. That’s not what I want, that’s not what Gerry wanted, and that certainly doesn’t align with my new career goals.”

  “Oh? And tell me, dear nephew, what exactly are these new goals? I don’t think I have to tell you that what you’re saying means you’re turning your back on the Family, which isn’t something that’s done lightly.” Her tone was still neutral, but Nick hadn’t missed the fact that she’d called him “dear nephew.” Whenever she said that, it meant he was on the thinnest of ice, one wrong word away from going under.

  Carefully, being sure she didn’t think he’d opted to pull a weapon out of his pocket, Nick took out a piece of paper and laid it on the desk. Ms. Pips picked it up and scanned it, her brow furrowing. “You want to apply for an internship helping on some local governor’s campaign? If this whole thing is a bit, you are not going to find me laughing at the end.”

  “Not in the slightest,” Nick assured her. “But what has long been the proverbial peanut butter to organized crime’s jelly?”

  She kept reading, although the barest hint of a smile seemed to tug on one of her lips. “Politics.”

  “Exactly. And doing dumb shit like that is a stepping stone: making the right friends, shaking the right hands, and learning how the business is done. A few volunteer jobs, a little funding in the right places, and then I start out small with something easy to win and local. With my people skills, after that it’s just a matter of climbing the ladder. So it’s less like I’m abandoning the Family than it is transferring to another department.”

  “If you can win,” Ms. Pips pointed out.

  Nick scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Come on now, whose nephew do you think I am? Of course I’ll win. Every election, every time. And with each rank I climb, your influence in government grows. Think of the power we’ll have when you’ve got favors to cash in on the national level.”

  “Plus, you’ll be able to protect th
ose friends of yours, too. Every year or so, someone tries to pass new regulations on Supers and Heroes. Having a charismatic Super to push back against the bad stuff would keep things in line.”

  “That, too,” Nick agreed. “And are you really going to argue with having Heroes in my—our—debt?”

  Slowly, she slid the paper back over. “I’ll think about it. We’ve got until you’ve graduated, anyway. Though I’ll admit, Senator Campbell has a nice ring to it.”

  Nick took the paper and tucked it carefully away. “Only Senator? I personally preferred President Campbell. If we’re going to do this, we may as well think big.”

  158.

  Ice swept across the stone, crystalizing and joining in small sections that drew together to connect and form solid sheets.

  Vince let out a breath and lowered his hand. He was getting better, but still was not as fast as he’d have liked. This was different than the other types of training he’d done. Learning to take in kinetic energy or shoot electricity had been about understanding the sensations and habits of both types of energy. Once he learned what they were like, once he recognized them as they tried to push against him, Vince could open the door and simply draw them inside. But he knew how to absorb heat. Heat was just like fire, and that had always been the easiest energy for him to work with. It pressed against the skin, drawing out moisture, demanding to be let inside. This wasn’t just grabbing the excess, the spike in temperature that deviated from the norm. What Vince was trying to do was to wring every last bit of it from the nearby world around him, and that was proving to be a far more difficult task.