by Hayes, Drew
Turning back to Vince, Jeremiah clapped him on the shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes. “The good news is that you do have potential, my boy. That stunt with the bluff was good. And in the past, you’ve pulled the occasional rabbit out of a hat when the pressure was really on.”
“How do you–”
“Titan, you know better than to ask a Subtlety Hero how they learned something,” Jeremiah said, cutting him off before his speech could be derailed. “My point is that there is a working brain in there, Vince, and you’ve proven it a few times. The trouble is that you tend to lean on your wits only in moments of last resort, when your physical strength has failed or fallen short. I don’t blame you; if I had your ability I’d have relied heavily on raw power too. Now the question is whether you want to keep shoring up the place where you’re already strong, or try and build on the spots where you’re weak.”
“So you think you can teach me to fight like a Subtlety Hero?” Vince asked. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was entertaining this idea; it should have seemed ridiculous, shouldn’t it? Except that less than an hour ago he’d let an Armageddon Sim slip through his fingers, and then nearly gotten pinned down in front of an orphanage. Not because he lacked power, but because he had trouble figuring out how to best use it. This time he’d pulled things out in the last minute. Next time, when the stakes were real, he might not get lucky.
“Depends on how you mean that.” Jeremiah released his grip and resumed his casual stance. “I’ve seen your transcripts and assessments – and don’t bother asking how, Titan, we’ll talk later – and you’re… well, you’re probably never going to be the quickest person in the room. You don’t have the makings for Subtlety in its classic sense, and no amount of teaching will change that. However, what I can do is make you a better version of you: smarter, wilier, more dangerous. You have good instincts, Vince, and a natural intuition when you get out of your own way. I can refine that, teach you how to trust it, expand your mental toolkit. Everyone else who offers you an internship will teach you to hit harder. I’ll teach you to hit smarter.”
Had he… Jeremiah couldn’t possibly know that’s how Nick had phrased his type of education back in sophomore year, could he? Staring at him, so unassuming and easy-to-miss in this crowd of powerful people, Vince wasn’t sure he’d put anything past the man. That was a scary thought, but also an intriguing one.
“I’d like to consider what you’ve said today,” Vince replied. “Or were you hoping for an answer?”
“Nah, if you tried to give me one so soon I’d know you hadn’t really understood what I was offering. Take your time; I’ll keep the spot open for you. There’s only one other student I wanted to offer to train, and I do get two intern positions. Speaking of, Titan, let’s go refresh our drinks and then get in line. Looks like it’s going to take us a while to get a turn talking with Chad.”
It took a few seconds for his words to click, but the instant they did Titan and Vince both felt their eyes bulge as they stared at Jeremiah. When they spoke it was in near-perfect unison. “What?”
Jeremiah chuckled softly and snapped his fingers. “Damnit! Why didn’t I think to have a video camera out for that?”
224.
“Let’s start with brainwashing. You went to that well pretty quickly when pitching ideas, with the surety of someone who knows it can work. I wonder, Crispin, if you’ve ever employed such a technique before.”
It didn’t escape Sherman’s notice that despite talking to Crispin, Globe was looking at him. Strangely, there was no fury or anger in those eyes, not like what he’d seen when Heroes had gotten near him and Crispin before. No, Globe was looking at him with sadness – maybe even pity.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Crispin spat out.
“Not a lie, so that’s something, but unfortunately not an acceptable answer either. You’ve done horrible things, both in person and by using people to carry out your will, and I need to know how much of it is on you entirely.”
Globe paused, flexing his fingers slightly. “I originally learned how to manipulate brain chemistry like this as a therapy tool. Going back to past events, gently and with a friend, can offer closure, especially in my former line of work. Sometimes you need to see that there was nothing anyone could have done to change an outcome; other times you need to see your failure and accept it so you can grow. Either way, I learned that memories are powerful, dangerous things. And I suspect a man like you has some truly awful ones festering in the back of his mind.”
Another flex of the fingers and Crispin’s eyes fluttered shut. He began to twitch, slightly at first then more vigorously. A sheen of sweat appeared across his face as it twisted into an unfamiliar expression. Was that… fear? Sherman had never seen Crispin show fear before, not once in their years together. Just when it seemed that Crispin was about to cry out, his eyes popped open and darted around the room. The sound of his heavy panting was all that filled the barn for several moments.
“How did… how did you know…”
“I didn’t know anything,” Globe replied. “You’re the only one seeing things. To watch along with you I’d need another Super to bring me in. That’s a power I haven’t learned to replicate yet. All I’m doing is digging for the things you’ve buried deepest. That was the one closest to the top, by the way. The next one will presumably be worse. So then, how do you feel about the brainwashing question? Up for an answer?”
It was a valiant effort, but Sherman knew Globe was wasting his time. Crispin was a stalwart, unwavering man of incredible conviction. Unless Globe grew suddenly comfortable with actual torture, Crispin would never crack, not just from seeing his own memories replayed.
Sherman was, not for the first or last time that day, wrong.
“A few times. Never for anything on a grand scale like I proposed; I was still trying to find a Super who could produce lasting results. It’s hard, though: the human mind is a naturally resilient thing. Most can’t keep control for longer than a day, and pushing someone past their moral lines fractures the hold more quickly. Even with my enhancements, eventually the subject’s mind would either break the conditioning or crack entirely. I always kept them as assistants so I could chart how long the effects lasted. Sherman is the longest success so far; he’s been in my thrall for nearly five years.”
“What?” That… that couldn’t be true. He’d been with Crispin for that long, sure, but he’d never met any Super with brainwashing abilities. Sherman had come over to the Sons of Progress after hearing Crispin speak, his words touching the burning spark of revolution in Sherman’s soul. Together, they were going to pave a new world, one where those with power never had to be ashamed or fearful of the humans who were their lesser.
“See, even now he’s fighting the truth.” Crispin nodded in Sherman’s direction, and suddenly Sherman’s knees went out from under him. Before he could properly fall, Joan was there holding him up. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right.
“Can you free him?” Globe asked.
“I’m not the one who altered his brain, so no. And before you ask, the Super I used is dead, so they can’t either. If they were still around, I’d have put more Shermans into production years ago.”
Joan put her head just above Sherman’s shoulder so she could look Crispin in the eyes. “Bullshit. If the Super was dead then he’d be free.”
“If a Super breaks the pavement, then dies, does the pavement reform?” Crispin shot back. He was recovering, feeling bolder again. That was probably not going to end well, and despite all that he was hearing, Sherman still felt concerned for his employer. “The reason Sherman has lasted this long is that the Super didn’t just exert influence, they remodeled Sherman’s mind itself. New memories, new feelings, all formed physically in the neural pathways. The Super could never have managed such a feat on their own, but they had my enhancement increasing their potential. You see, that’s what I bring to the table: entirely new possibilities. Imagine what you
and your people could do with someone like me in your corner.”
Trapped, exposed, and utterly helpless, Crispin was still trying to turn the situation to his advantage. Sherman felt a swell of admiration for his employer, followed immediately by a sense of disgust for himself. Where were these warm feelings coming from? Crispin had just admitted to using him as a puppet, yet his brain continued to tell him that he should support the man no matter what. Slowly, gently, Sherman began to weep as the confusion overtook him.
“I’ve seen what you do with your power.” Globe released his grip on Crispin’s head and walked around to the other side of the couch, hunkering down to look him in the eyes. “You hurt people. Use them. Corrupt them, or control them if that fails. You gather an army to slaughter children. And do you know the worst of it? If I handed you over to the DVA, it would only be a matter of time before they made you a deal. Enhancers are so rare, and you’re so powerful, it would be inevitable. They’d start using you, a little at first, only in emergencies, then more and more over time. With every use, you’d get more leverage, until you were either free or living someplace so nice it would be a moot point. The right thing to do would be to kill you, right here and now, for all the pain you’ve caused.”
“Then why haven’t you done it?” Crispin snapped.
“Because I don’t think it’s my place. You have no idea how close you came to making it my place, Crispin. If things had gone a little differently that night in May, if that boy’s luck hadn’t kept so many safe, you might have accidentally killed my son. Had that happened, this would be a very different, very brief, conversation. But you didn’t, so I’m not the one who wants your blood the most. I’m going to hand you over to a Hero, Crispin. One of the few good ones. One I know I can trust. One with more reason than anyone to want you dead. He gets to decide whether to tear the worthless life from your body or turn you over.”
Rising from his crouch, Globe walked behind Crispin and set his hand back on the man’s skull. “Eventually, that is. He gets you eventually. First, you’re going to tell me everything I need to know to finish off the last of the Sons of Progress. Every agent, every ally, every asset. It’s all going to be torn down. The world needs to see what happens to those who fuck with the HCP.”
225.
Roy was talking to a big shifter who’d been hanging out with Gale, Titan, and the guy with all the pockets. Not far away, Titan and the aforementioned pocket-loving Hero were standing in line to talk to Chad, leaving behind a stunned Vince who seemed uncertain of what to do next. Alex had been in deep discussion with a woman wearing a dark cloak for almost ten minutes, and Violet was getting ample attention from various brawlers for her daring move at the end of the trial. Camille, Alice, Thomas, Shane, all of his friends were being courted, celebrated for the amazing show they’d put on during the trial.
Yet Will was only making small talk, watching all this happen from the side of his eye. True, at least a dozen Heroes had been waiting for him to walk through the doors to say how great a job he’d done, and even more had come by as the mixer progressed, but none of them seemed interested in Will as an intern. They just wanted to compliment his performance and chitchat. It was confusing and vexing, as it had been through the year. Apparently Subtlety Heroes rarely showed up to these things; if they were in attendance, they hadn’t spent a lot of time talking to Will. He couldn’t figure out the issue. He was consistently putting on quality demonstrations of his skills, but walking away with lots of praise and minimal offers for his efforts.
“Hey drone-guy, you were awesome out there.”
As soon as Will identified the location of the voice, he straightened his back slightly. Gale was the leader of an established team, and she had already made an internship offer to a Subtlety student; if there was ever a Hero to impress, she was near the top of the list.
“Thank you, ma’am, but I just relayed information. I couldn’t have done anything without my team.”
“Couldn’t have done anything?” Gale cocked a slight eyebrow, even as her mouth allowed a smirk to peek through. “Humility is good and all, but this is a meat market. Not the place to undersell yourself. Take some credit, you sure as shoot earned it. Trust me, I’ve run many an unexpected search mission, and I can say with surety that your class would have been dead in the water without you.”
Will shook his head. “They’re not helpless, and I certainly wouldn’t count them out without me. I will say that my contribution made things happen faster, though. Faster, and hopefully with less casualties.”
“Good man. You know where the line between taking credit and selling out your teammates is. That’s an important skill, especially when it comes to dealing with the media,” Gale said. “So, passed over again, huh?”
“Beg pardon?”
Shifting her body so she was standing next to him, looking out at the gym, Gale swept her hand over the mingling crowd. “Everyone wants to tell you how good you did, but nobody is sticking around to talk details on an actual internship. Seems to happen to you at almost every one of these things.”
He hadn’t expected her to catch that. Well-known or not, Gale’s reputation was one of skill and brute force, not keen observation. Will took the new information into account and mentally adjusted his appraisal of her. “I suppose I don’t seem like a good fit to any of them.”
“I doubt it’s that. Well, okay, actually it probably is that,” Gale amended. “But not for the reason you’re thinking. Subtlety Heroes tend to have their own ways to pick interns, and every one of them is different. Not many even show up to these things. Jeremiah only tagged along because he got some wild idea about applying Subtlety teachings to martial Heroes, and you’re not a good fit for that. Don’t worry, though; I’m positive you’ve caught the eye of a few people. Like your drones in the sky: just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t watching.”
“You seem to know a lot about Subtlety Heroes, given your own role in a team,” Will pointed out.
Gale responded with something between a nod and a shrug. “Part of what it means to be a leader; you need to understand as much as you can about every member of your team. You should keep that in mind, when you form your own squad.”
His eyes lingered on her for a moment. Will had never told anyone he had considered leading a team one day. Was she fishing, or had Gale somehow sussed that out? “What makes you think I’d be in a leadership role? It’s not one we traditionally fill.”
“I saw the way you took charge in there. You’ve got leadership potential, and you don’t seem like the type to let potential go unused,” Gale replied. “It’s your life, though. Do what you want. My point is you shouldn’t get too discouraged by this part of the process. It’s the way these things tend to go. You’re on people’s radars. After the shit you’ve pulled in these trials, how could you not be?”
It was exactly what he’d been hoping to hear, which made Will immediately suspicious. Still, Gale was a Hero who didn’t disregard Subtlety users; she had one on her team and was even taking one as an intern, plus she seemed to be in good standing with Titan, who had never given any of the students he helped train reason to distrust him. Gale was probably trustworthy, but even that only meant that she believed she was being honest, not that her words were necessarily accurate.
“Thanks. I’ll keep my chin up. Can’t say I don’t envy Alice, though. Her power got her an internship locked down with a legacy team in an exciting city.”
“Yeah, well, we all have to walk our own paths.” Gale leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I didn’t get a good internship offer until my last month in the HCP. People kept thinking my power was best suited to recon rather than engagement, and since I was in a heavy-hitting class, my martial skills didn’t stand out too much. I wasn’t top of the class, selected for Intramurals, or any of that stuff.”
“So what happened?” Will asked.
“I kept showing people what I cou
ld do, and eventually someone with a few thoughts in their head saw a trial and recognized my potential. That’s the thing to keep in mind: most classes don’t have your kind of buzz. No cool nicknames, no traumatic trials-by-fire, no experimental students. For most of us, getting noticed by the right person is the tough part, but you lot are set in that regard. The Class of Nightmares, dumb name or not, is on people’s minds. I promise you, the people who can appreciate what you do are paying attention. Just keep showing them why you’re worth watching.”
“Thanks.” Will paused; now that the conversation had fallen into a lull he wasn’t sure where to take things. “Any other advice you’d like to offer?”
“Make sure your costume has comfortable shoes,” Gale replied immediately. “People are going to tell you that they can add padding or insoles to the boots to make them feel better, but it’s crap. If they aren’t comfy from the start, reject them until you get a good pair.”
“Comfortable shoes? That’s your advice?”
This time, there was nothing restrained or subtle about the smirk creeping across Gale’s face. “You just played a key role in stopping an Armageddon-Super. I think you’ve got the rest of this stuff well in hand.”
226.
Dean Blaine was ready to relax. It had been a very long day given the trial itself, the mixer, and of course the endless parade of Heroes wanting to talk shop or get some inside information on the more junior classes. By the time his work was finally over and the last of the guests was off campus, it was well into the evening. He stopped at a fast food place on the way home, honest with himself that he was too wiped to cook, and walked in his front door armed with a plan to gorge himself on burritos with a side of scotch.
