by Hayes, Drew
“If it gets me out of the shopping trips, I may turn you down on that one,” Mary countered. Her eyes, along with those of everyone else, turned to Alice, who was the only person yet to declare a position on being remembered.
The shift didn’t escape Alice’s notice either. “What are you all looking at? She’s my best fucking friend; of course I want her to remember me. Did I really need to say that?”
“Wait, what about Nick?” Vince asked.
“Nick is not a part of the HCP, and he never will be again,” Mary said. “He got expelled; he didn’t quit. So memories of him are fair game.”
Chad raised his hand to get the group’s attention before asking his own question. “Forgive me if this is rude, but as it concerns us I feel compelled to ask: what about the living situation? Will you be forced to vacate?”
“Thankfully, no. Since you all gave permission for me to keep memories of you, there’s no real reason for me to move. At least, not midway through the year. I probably wouldn’t be able to come back once a new year started, but since we’re all seniors it’s a moot point.” Mary looked around the common room, wondering what she’d have done if she did have to move. It was strange to think of living anywhere around Lander that wasn’t Melbrook, but she would have been okay. The walls and doors didn’t make this place a home, the people in it did, and they’d all just professed a desire to stay in her life.
It made her feel deeply loved and incredibly guilty—at least where Vince and Chad were concerned. They deserved to know the truth about their fathers, but that wasn’t her call to make. Dean Blaine was right; they had to be careful with every move they made.
However, there was one thing still left that she needed to pull off: a parting gift of sorts, before she was officially out of the program. “Vince, do you want to take a walk with me down to the HCP? There’s someone you and I need to talk to.”
168.
“You going to be okay?” Dean Blaine pulled on his suit jacket and cleaned his glasses, preparing to depart the underground bunker. It was almost time to start getting things ready, and as the dean of the HCP, he could hardly afford to miss a single meeting, even if it meant sharing space with a traitor.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve known something was up with Blake since the day he and Charles told us Shelby ‘died’ from complications with the experiment. I never bought it. There was always something off about them, the story, the way it all hung. Even if I didn’t have proof, I was too good of a Subtlety Hero not to trust my gut.” Professor Pendleton paused, looking up from his pile of printed documents. “The question is, are you going to be okay? My half-brother and I have had a frosty relationship since I got here, but you two are amiable colleagues, even if you didn’t trust him enough to bring him in on this. Can you keep that up, knowing what he did?”
It was a fair question, one that Dean Blaine had been asking himself quite a bit in the last few days of Winter Break. He wasn’t trained in Subtlety like Sean; would he be able to smile at the man, to laugh at his jokes, to pretend he didn’t know he was working alongside a Hero who’d abused his position to kill an innocent man? Ultimately, Dean Blaine wasn’t sure he could, which was why he’d found a mental cavern to take shelter in.
“Technically, we don’t know if he is a killer,” Dean Blaine said. “We have the testimony of one source, and while so far everything we can check is lining up with the story we got, that’s still not enough to condemn him just yet. If what happened to Globe teaches us nothing else, it’s that we need to be thorough and not take the word of someone just because we want to trust them.”
Professor Pendleton said nothing for several seconds, merely putting his papers neatly together and getting up from the table. “If that’s what you need to think to get through this, then more power to you.”
“You disagree with my assessment?”
“No, the lesson was good; you’re right there. But Blake did it. I know him; I know how close he and Shelby were.” Professor Pendleton sighed softly, just under his breath. “I used to envy them, you know. We were all family, but those two were real siblings, twins at that. Much as I loved them both, I was always an outsider looking in. There’s nothing Blake wouldn’t have done if it meant saving Shelby, and that includes killing Intra.”
Dean Blaine finished cleaning his glasses, then reached onto the table and pulled off a small briefcase. His day in their hidden bunker was nearly over; it was time to get moving once more. After all, HCP classes resumed tomorrow, and there really was a lot of work to be done. But this was important too, and he didn’t want to leave the task half finished. “Sean, if we decide to trust Abridail, if we feel like moving forward on looking for Globe, you know who we’ll need to talk to.”
“She’s been around for years now and not given a single indication she was in contact with him,” Professor Pendleton pointed out. “Hell, she just spent Christmas with us. You really think Clarissa can play something that huge so close to the vest? Why would she have accepted all of our invitations?” There was a brief moment of silence as Professor Pendleton actually considered the question before answering it himself. “Because if you want us to think you’ve got nothing to hide, then you pal around with us like nothing is wrong. Shit... you might be right.”
“None of us were initially accepting of the idea that Globe could turn into a ruthless killer who slayed his best friend, and she denied it from the outset.” Part of Dean Blaine now wished he’d been a little more stubborn in his convictions, had held fast to what he knew to be true about Globe’s character. But Globe was far from the first Hero to fall; it was something Dean Blaine had been conditioned to accept. Not that any of those facts lessened the guilt of turning his back on a friend. “If Globe was innocent, then Clarissa would have believed him. And if she even suspected he was alive before George’s jailbreak, she’d have searched for him. She’s our best bet, if we decide to reach out.”
“Pretty big ‘if’ you’ve got there,” Professor Pendleton replied. “I can make an appointment with her, if you like. Invent some pretense about another Lander event, the sort of thing she’d be inclined to say yes to if she wanted to keep her cover.”
Dean Blaine shook his head. “No. No lies, no guile, no tricks. If we use Clarissa as a go-between, then we do it the right way: with trust and friendship. She, Globe, you, and me, we were all Heroes once. And friends. It’s time we started to act like it.”
* * *
Ralph Chapman had never been the trusting sort. Even before he changed his career path to the DVA and began calling out the Heroes who would have skated free from their mistakes thanks to clout and popularity, Ralph had always been one to shake someone’s right hand while watching for a knife in their left. It was an attitude that had served him well in politics, but had proven more troublesome when dealing with Heroes. Respect and trust were large elements to their world, which was somewhat expected given the bonds they forged on the battlefield. Meeting Heroes with suspicion put him at a disadvantage in every interaction he had with them. Perhaps that was why, when Mary had come to him, he’d been willing to show a bit of faith. Not a huge amount, but enough to formally requisition the services of a DVA teleporter for the afternoon. It was a small show of trust, in the grand scheme of things, but he hoped it would bear some manner of fruit.
His faith turned out to be well-placed, as the door to his meager office swung open to reveal Mary, along with the unmistakable Vince Reynolds. The men locked eyes for a long moment before Ralph gestured to the two small folding chairs stuffed into the room.
“Vince, why don’t you come in and have a seat? I think it’s time you and I had a long overdue chat.”
169.
Vince looked wary as he glanced over to Mary, which was not only forgivable but downright prudent. She gave a brief nod, and that was all it took for him to sit down in the chair offered by Chapman. Bless him and his trusting heart; she was going to miss spending time with him, and the others, down in these concret
e walls. It was a true loss to her and she felt it dearly, but even now she knew the cost of staying would be higher than she could handle. Moments like these were the toll she paid to get out while she still could.
“Mr. Chapman,” Vince greeted as he settled into his chair. Mary followed his lead, shutting the door firmly behind them. The two were looking at each other, both thinking a myriad of different questions but unsure of how to best proceed. Well, that was why she’d come along in the first place.
“Vince, you should know something upfront: Ralph didn’t call this meeting. I did. We’re all aware that there’s a lot of DVA interest in you, and Ralph is sort of the face of that. But as the only person to have seen inside both of your heads, trust me when I say there’s more common ground here than you might think. I put this together because I want you two to stop seeing yourselves as being at odds with one another.”
“We’ve had meetings before,” Vince told her.
“Not with me in them.” Mary reached over, easily able to slap a hand on Ralph’s desk in the tiny room. “Here’s the deal: Ralph has some stuff he wants to talk to you about and show you, Vince. You’re free to ask questions on those topics or whatever else you want. The one rule that I’m here to enforce is a simple one: no lying. Whatever you say to each other, make sure it’s the truth, or I will call you out on it. Both of you. Ralph is pretty good at managing his thoughts in general, but I’m betting that in the spontaneity of real conversation I’ll be able to catch a few red flags if he fibs. It’s been over a year of this weird stalemate of not trusting either side, so today we’re trying something different.”
Vince and Ralph stared at one another, not with hate but with caution. She knew what they were seeing. Ralph looked at Vince and saw living destruction personified, while Vince saw in Ralph a man who judged him for the actions of his father rather than his own. They were both right, in a way, yet also wrong in so many others. A myriad of misunderstandings, all from people’s desire to keep their true thoughts private.
“What do you have against me?” Vince was the one who spoke, of course. Only he could be so unapologetically bold in a moment like this. “I know you all think my father is bad, but I’m not the only child of a criminal to come through the HCP. I read up on it last year. There have been plenty of Heroes who talked about having Super parents who broke the law. Why do you put so much attention on me, specifically?”
Mary could feel the lies and half-truths flitting through Ralph’s mind, but as he turned his eyes to her, they quieted. For now, at least, he seemed willing to play along with the honesty game.
“There is a big difference between someone having a parent who was a criminal Super and having a parent who is a Hero that turned traitor,” Ralph said. “But in the spirit of this meeting, I’ll tell you something, Vince: Globe is why you came to my attention, not why you stayed there. I believe that you haven’t had any contact with him, I really do. Globe isn’t the issue here. You are. Or, to be more precise, how dangerous your power is.”
Vince blinked in surprise. “My power? It’s strong, sure, but I’m not really all that special. I’m not even at the top of my class.”
“Sometimes you are. Have you ever watched the tape of yourself from sophomore year? When Nicholas Campbell used Rich Weaver to tweak your brain and convince you that you were fighting monsters? It was quite incredible, you know. The brutality, the efficiency: you cycled through different energies so fast they nearly seemed concurrent, and you absorbed energies that we’ve still yet to see you replicate. It’s hard to say that version of Vince wasn’t near the top of his class, at the very least, and you’ve only gotten stronger since then.”
Slowly, with his gaze darting to Mary, Vince nodded. “I’ve seen the tapes, more times than I can count. I didn’t know they were students, though. I’d never have attacked fellow human beings like that.”
“Never? That’s a strong word, Vince.” Ralph had his hands on the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly. “Especially coming from a man who had to be talked out of killing someone not even a year ago.”
Silence fell, and Mary wondered if things had already spun out of control beyond saving in the first few minutes. But she underestimated Vince, as he nodded once more, this time with conviction.
“I’ll own that. The man you’re talking about killed my friend, someone I cared about, and in the heat of that moment I wanted to take his life away as payback. I’m not proud of that temptation, Mr. Chapman, but I don’t look back and wish I’d killed him either. It was a hard situation, and I nearly fell short of who I want to be. That’s something I have to live with for the rest of my life, a memory I keep with me at all times. Because next time the temptation comes, I want to be ready for it, to use my shame over what I nearly did to keep myself from failing the same way again.”
“This is the problem with you, Vince.” Ralph’s hands had loosened their grip on the desk, and his posture eased. The fiery spirit had plainly gone out of him in the face of Vince’s brutal honesty. “The normal you is like this: considerate, measured, and willing to take responsibility for his mistakes. It endears you to people, makes them want to root for you. Allows them to turn a blind eye when you send up warning flags that should be noticed. I want to make one thing clear here, above all others: I don’t dislike you on a personal level. You’re a good kid who is clearly trying his best. But the issue here is not a personal one, it’s a pragmatic one. An issue of safety. If you’re willing to come with me somewhere, I think a visual example will be a little more helpful for our discussion.”
Mary could already see where Ralph planned to bring them, so when Vince turned to her she signaled her approval. This was a good idea, because the truth was, as much as she loved Vince dearly, Ralph had some valid points. And if Vince did make it to Hero status, Ralph would certainly not be the first DVA agent to voice them. Better he saw it plainly now, so he could decide how to proceed.
Ralph hit a buzzer on his intercom, and seconds later a tall woman in a dark suit opened the door. Together, the three of them got up from their seats, walked over to her, and vanished.
170.
The wind coming off the bay was chilly, making Vince and Mary glad they hadn’t shed their coats on the trip down to Ralph Chapman’s office. He didn’t wear one as he stood in front of them. Occasionally a rogue shiver would run down his otherwise stiff spine—the only betrayal of his discomfort. Then again, as Vince looked past the DVA agent to the ruined remains of a large bridge set some ways off from a newer one packed with cars, he wondered if perhaps those shivers had nothing to do with the cold at all.
“They never rebuilt it.” Ralph sounded different than normal—less detached and authoritative, more human. “Said it was old by that point, anyway; made more sense fiscally to just build something new, something safer. That might have been true, but I think deep down they just knew no one would want to commute over a graveyard. So they made the leftovers a memorial, put up a nice plaque, and moved on. It wasn’t that easy for some of us, though.”
From their vantage point atop the hill, overlooking the bay, the city, and both of its bridges, Vince could see the entire layout. That was probably why they were here instead of up close: so that he could take note of how many cars were on the active bridge, could imagine the amount of life lost if it were suddenly destroyed.
“What happened here?”
“A fight between some criminal Supers and Heroes, like what goes on all over this country every day. Relentless Steel and Raze were hunting down a gang that had been quickly accruing a lot of weapons and Supers. Things came to a head, and the fight spilled onto the bridge. Things went wrong. According to the reports and the debriefings, what few there were, it was a lot of little mistakes that piled together and then one big fuck-up. Raze had the power of disintegration, you see. He was going after some Super who’d proven extra tough, built a lot of juice in his attack, and then... missed. Don’t ask me how; I wasn’t with the DVA then and this preda
tes everyone having a camera in their pocket. But he did, and that was the last straw. The bridge’s supports gave, and suddenly everyone—Heroes, crooks, and innocent commuters—went plunging into the drink. Raze and Relentless Steel survived, of course. They were trained Heroes. The civilians were another matter.”
Vince could see Ralph’s body tightening as he spoke, his spine growing rigid and his jaw trying to lock. This wasn’t some hypothetical situation he was using as an illustration; this was real to Ralph. Personal. “You knew someone who died, didn’t you?”
It took visible effort, but Ralph slowly tilted his head forward. “My daughters. A friend had picked them up because I was stuck at work. They all died. As did hundreds of others, lives that never needed to be lost, never should have been in danger in the first place. Because a Hero made mistakes, forgot his duty was to protect, not to punish. And before you ask: no crook on that Bridge was over Standard Class. There was never a need or authorization for that much loss of life. It was just a stupid moment where things got out of hand. And it’s why I’m worried about you, Vince.”
Ralph turned back, motioning for Vince to step forward. He did, leaving Mary and the teleporting DVA agent to their rear. Once he reached Ralph’s side, the older man extended a finger, pointing out to the wreckage where so many people lost their lives. “Raze needed a lot of mistakes to do that kind of damage. A lot of things that had to go wrong at the same time. But you, Vince, are on a whole other level than he was. If you lost control, if you got angry and vengeful, or just decided to dig in and defend someone you loved, you could easily accomplish that level of destruction in, what… maybe two to three blows? I’ve seen you training to use bigger amounts of power; I know you spent the winter at Lander East. Maybe someday all you’ll need is one sloppy punch, one burst of anger, and suddenly there’s a different city putting up a new plaque.”
