Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  “The new ones would, certainly. Those who have been around for a while have learned better. They understand the value in having an HCP dean trust them, and most of the truly established agents already have more Heroes wanting to be clients than they have spots to fill. For them, it’s about the quality of the client, not the quantity. Or did you not notice Mr. Nicolo playing coy?”

  The scratch of a pen running across paper briefly interrupted them as Professor Baker scrawled quick notes. “I saw. So be ready for trouble and prepared to act. In that regard, historically you have them publicly thrown out of the building. Is that standard HCP procedure, or just you?”

  “Sort of hard to say,” Dean Blaine replied. “It’s not exactly written down anywhere, but all the deans tend to take the same approach. Makes the other agents understand there are swift and immediate consequences for abusing our hospitality. When you’re the dean, you’ll be free to handle it in whatever way you deem appropriate.”

  More scratching: a pleasant noise of preparation, and one to which Dean Blaine was well-accustomed by now. There was no easy way to train someone on the job of being dean for an HCP. While new deans would know the school and procedures from having worked as teachers, it didn’t change the fact that being in charge came with its own slew of challenges and tasks. The best method he’d come up with was the same one used by his own predecessor: allowing Lander’s next dean to watch his myriad of tasks, take notes, and ask questions. It wouldn’t be a perfect system – there were always unforeseen issues that popped up when one was running the show instead of watching it – but it should give Professor Baker a good head start. Besides, dealing with the unexpected was a core part of a dean’s job. If he thought she couldn’t handle that, he’d have never nominated her for the position in the first place.

  “Probably won’t rock the boat my first year, but I may try a slightly gentler approach down the line.” Professor Baker looked up from her pad at last. “Letting one of the agents have an advanced crack at several students was an interesting move, I’ve never seen you do that before. Should I expect Mr. Nicolo to request similar treatment in the years to come?”

  “I doubt it. He is nothing if not a man who understands the push and pull of favors. Even this would have been more than I might have permitted if not for the circumstances the three from Melbrook face. They will need a strong hand to guide them, and I’ve found few agents with a reputation like Mr. Nicolo’s. If there is an agent out there who can help them, he’s the most likely candidate.”

  “Got it, so he knows it was a one-time deal,” Professor Baker said.

  With some effort, Dean Blaine suppressed a snicker. “Oh no, I’m sure he’ll want to pull a similar move in the years to come. My point is that he’s wise enough to understand such things don’t come free. He’ll try to barter favors for the privilege, like coming to speak here again. How he makes it worthwhile is up to you to decide. Just remember: the man negotiates professionally and is renowned for it, so be ready to dig in for a long haggle.”

  “I’ve been known to make some pretty good deals myself.” Professor Baker added a few brief words to the end of her page. “That’s all the questions I had on the agent session. What’s next?”

  From within his desk, Dean Blaine produced a single page and slid it across the desk. “What’s next is that it’s time to take you downstairs. Your conditional approval has come through, meaning you now have clearance to access some of the more protected areas where only deans are permitted. Today I have a meeting with the heads of the other HCP schools to go over details for Intramurals, and I think it’s a perfect opportunity to make introductions. Not to mention it will let you see how much work goes into the task of coordinating Intramurals. I won’t be surprised if you withdraw your application for the job after we tackle that.”

  “Somehow, I think I’ll find the inner strength to persevere.” Professor Baker took her pen and pad as she rose, heading to the door. “Lead the way, sir.”

  Dean Blaine got up as well, motioning for her to leave and turning to firmly shut the door behind them. As he did, his eyes fell upon the empty office, his empty office… except it wasn’t really his, just like it hadn’t belonged to any of the deans before him. It belonged to the school and the person who headed it, which meant it was always on loan at best. One day, he’d come here and see Ariel’s version of the room, although deep down he knew he’d avoid that moment for as long as possible. Because when that happened, it would be the day he knew in his heart he was no longer the dean of Lander’s HCP.

  Closing the door firmly, Dean Blaine set his sights on the hallway ahead. Sentimental musings could wait until he had the time to indulge them. For now, there was still plenty of work that demanded the dean’s attention.

  243.

  It had taken a lot more work to get this job than it should have. Anyone looking at the situation objectively could see that Sean Pendleton was the logical choice to fill the role: he had the least to lose if things went awry and the most training in how to keep his secrets even against other Supers. Yet Blaine had still wanted to take on this task himself, even if it put the opportunity to rise up the DVA’s ranks at risk. That was the trouble with Blaine, in Sean’s opinion; he was never as good at delegation as he needed to be. Be it back in their days as students, in the field, or working as the HCP’s dean, Blaine always tried to brave the worst, most dangerous jobs himself. It was respectable, in that no one ever felt like he was putting his own interests before others, but it was also annoying as hell when he refused to acknowledge that letting someone else take the risk had a higher chance for success.

  In the end, it was scheduling that finally won the battle. Dean Blaine was in high demand with Intramurals right around the corner and the time required to get Professor Baker ready to take over for him. That wasn’t even counting all the meetings with the DVA over increasing security to make sure no one took a cue from the Sons of Progress and tried to strike when all the schools were gathered. As things stood, the dean of Lander simply couldn’t up and vanish for a few hours. It would raise too many questions, and at this point, suspicion was something they had to avoid at all costs.

  The fuckup former prisoner, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly so essential to the HCP’s operations. True, if he went off-the-grid without notice and popped up in some other country alarm bells might go off, but Sean had been loyally serving his sentence as a professor for years now, which would likely diffuse concern. Beyond that, there was nothing inherently suspicious about where he was going. Over the past year he and Blaine had been reestablishing old friendships, and the connection with Clarissa was no secret. She’d even come to speak to an HCP class as a favor to them. So who was going to think much of him taking a day out of his weekend to go visit an old classmate?

  A few people, probably. Sean had been in the Subtlety game long enough to know that someone out there was likely ready to call in a squad for recapture every time he took too long in the bathroom. But what mattered was how out of place the interaction might look, and that aspect he had minimized. Without cause, the most that would be spared to watch over him were some barebones monitoring personnel, and that assumed they didn’t just toss a bug on him and call it a day. That sort of thing might have been tricky to deal with under normal circumstances; however, today they had an ace up their sleeve. Anyone who tried to spy on Clarissa’s house was only going to see the two of them having a nice, boring conversation and trying to plan a trip for those that remained of their classmates – for that was the illusion that Globe would project around them.

  Sean arrived a few minutes late, out of showmanship rather than necessity. He wasn’t known for being prompt, so there was no sense in making it seem like this meeting somehow merited particular timeliness or attention. After two knocks, Clarissa opened the door, scowl on her face as she ushered him inside and chided him for being late. They kept up the pretense for a few minutes, until she changed the topic toward refreshments. Sean paused,
ostensibly thinking over what he would like to drink. Seconds later, a new voice spoke.

  “You asked for a glass of whiskey, and Clarissa reminded you it’s barely eleven in the morning, so she’s going to bring you coffee instead. I can fill you in on more details before we leave.” From the shadows of an unlit hallway stepped a familiar figure, one that Sean had spent a long time expecting never to see again. He looked good, all things considered. Tired around the eyes, but that was always true of Phil. Otherwise, he seemed normal, like he could pass for a mundane stranger instead of legendary criminal. Except for the missing arm: that part gave him away.

  Until this moment, Sean wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to say to his old friend. So much had happened in the time between their last meeting, so many losses and revelations. Ultimately, it turned out that no words came immediately to mind. Instead, Sean stepped forward and wrapped Phil in a strong hug. Phil returned the gesture, putting a good amount of force into the one-armed embrace.

  When they finally parted, Sean’s tongue found itself moving once more. “When you busted George out of jail, you had your other arm back. I thought maybe you’d found yourself a strong healer.”

  A touch of sadness flashed in Phil’s eyes. “No, I don’t think it’s a wound that needs to be healed. It’s the price I paid for taking my best friend’s life, and a daily reminder of what I owe in penance. I just create and manipulate a prosthetic one when I’m working. Practicality has to win out in those moments.”

  “That sounds more like something I’d say than you.” Sean pulled fully away from the hug, putting some distance between them. It was good to see Phil again, but that didn’t change the fact that they had a lot to discuss. All he and Blaine were going on were the secondhand accounts of hallucinations conjured by a dream-walker. If they were going to build real trust, to work together to find Shelby and expose Charles, there were a lot of gaps to fill in. “Been up to anything interesting over the last decade or so? Adopt a kid, form a secret cabal of renegade Supers, maybe bust into the HCP digging for classified info?”

  “All of it, and so very much more. Although I didn’t create my group, not really,” Phil corrected. “I just found them, gathered them, and discovered a purpose we could all work toward together. If anyone created them, it’s the corrupt people in the Hero system. I’m not the only one who has been wrongfully cast aside or hurt. However, I’d prefer to let them tell you their own stories in their time, it’s not my place to share another person’s painful secrets. Anything you want to know about me, though, I’ll be glad to answer. It’s the very least that I owe you.”

  That was disappointing. Sean had hoped to leave here with more information about their prospective allies, but maybe he’d still get some tidbits about what they could do. Overall it wasn’t a huge loss; the big questions were all for Phil anyway. There was so much to understand, so many pieces to put together. The logical method would be to simply have Phil go through the whole story from his side. Prudent as it might have been, there was something more pressing on Sean’s mind, a question that had been burning in him for years upon years. There were days it threatened to destroy him, and times when it was all that kept him moving forward. Now, finally in the presence of someone who might have an answer, Sean found he didn’t have the self-control to take the logical route. His question would be asked first, or it might tear its way out from inside his chest.

  “Do you know where Shelby is?”

  Phil’s eyes darted briefly to Clarissa, then back to Sean. “No. And in a way, yes. We don’t have the geographic location or anything like that, but based on the small amount of intel we’ve gotten, it seems that she’s being kept in the same place the Powered treatment is being perfected. If we find my brother’s lab, we find Shelby.”

  It was the answer Sean had expected, if not the one he secretly hoped for, and for the moment his question was soothed back into submission. “Let’s talk more about that lab. And the treatment. All of it, really. Bring me up to speed here; tell me everything that’s happened to the great and powerful Globe since he supposedly died.”

  Clarissa turned toward her kitchen. “I’ve heard this story already, so I’m going to put on some coffee. Trust me, you’ll need it.”

  244.

  “Maybe we can pitch it as a reformation program. Like you’re showing me what sorts of heights I could aspire to if I stay on the straight and narrow.”

  Mr. Numbers grumbled slightly under his breath, moved a bishop, and shook his head. “None of the higher ups want you aspiring to greater heights. They saw what you did with the limited power you had and don’t want you chasing more of it. Remember: you didn’t get cut from the program, you got expelled. That’s a large distinction.”

  Convincing Mr. Numbers to hold his and Mary’s chess game at Nick’s apartment had been relatively easy; as a man who dealt in clandestine meetings, he understood the need to change locales when situations demanded it. The more challenging hurdle was the reason Nick had asked Mary to move the game: so he could try and talk Mr. Numbers into helping him see Intramurals. It was a sizable request and Nick knew it, yet he remained convinced it could be done if they just found the right angle.

  “Go at it from the other direction then: make this a ‘scared straight’ kind of thing where you impress upon me the level of ass-kicking I’m in for if I try to mess with my old classmates.” Nick was seated on the couch while Mr. Numbers and Mary played at the dining room table, absentmindedly flipping through DVA bylaws regarding the HCP, looking for any avenue he might be able to exploit to gain entrance. It was unlikely he’d uncover much, but the whole idea was more or less impossible to start with, so an unlikely lead was still one worth pursuing.

  “This would be a lot easier if you could just have Dean Blaine give you access,” Mary pointed out. She moved her knight into a new position, fully aware that it would be taken in the next few moves. After nearly four years of playing constant chess games with Mr. Numbers, she’d succeeded in learning to significantly prolong their matches. She never won, of course, but she took some measure of pride in the fact that her strategies had evolved substantially with him as an opponent.

  From the couch, Nick let out a sharp laugh. “I’ve got a better chance of sneaking past the DVA and all the security on campus than making that happen. No way the dean can just open the door and let in someone he expelled and mind-wiped – especially not when every other dean and a big chunk of the DVA will be present. That kind of stunt would lead to questions we do not want to answer, particularly given where things are now.”

  “The same could be said of any method you suggested,” Mr. Numbers said. “Even if we made it look like we used some sort of loophole or trick to force Dean Blaine’s hand, it presents needless peril. I think you know that; so that leaves us with the question of why you seem so intent on watching the fights. Your friends know you support them and would be there if you could, but your physical presence will ultimately change nothing. Why not simply let this pass and wait to hear how the battles shake out?”

  For a heartbeat, Nick was almost tempted to tell them the full truth – that even he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be there, that he never would have floated such a ludicrous idea normally. It was only a strange feeling in his gut that drove the thought onward, a hunch that refused to be ignored. A year ago, even a few months, he’d have dismissed it as sentiment manifesting under the guise of intuition. But things were different now. Nick still didn’t have complete proof of this expanded version of his power or any idea how reliable it might be, but it hadn’t steered him wrong yet. If some aspect of fate or fortune was urging him to attend Intramurals, then that was what he would try to do. It might end up being little more than a waste of time, but it was his time to waste, and he far preferred that to leaving his friends hanging if they needed him. That was a bit too cumbersome to explain to Mr. Numbers, though, so instead Nick fell back on a lie that still managed to be almost entirely true.

&
nbsp; “Boredom, mostly. Class here has never been what I would consider a challenge, and I’m pretty sure I can smoke all my finals without having to crack a book. I’ve got my summer lined up doing volunteer work on a few small-time campaigns to get the networking mojo flowing. Obviously I’m out of the HCP so there’s no terror of graduation dangling over my head or big final tests to get through, yet those are things most of my friends are preoccupied with. Even the covert work has dried up since our allies decided to reach out to alternate information sources. This is my way to kill time: trying to find a method to wrangle myself a ticket to the HCP Intramurals so I can cheer on my friends.”

  From the table, Mary spared him a brief glance. She knew the truth, only because Nick had found it was more effort than it was worth to hide his thoughts around her. That, and perhaps there was some part of him that found a touch of comfort in having a friend he didn’t need to explain things to, who simply knew the score at all times. Probably the first one, though… or that’s what Nick told himself anyway.

  “Any non-criminal project that keeps Nick occupied is a good thing,” Mary said. “You know what they say about idle hands.”

  “I beg your pardon. I work on my dexterity every single day; these hands are anything but idle. Want to see a card trick?”

  “Pass.” Mr. Numbers had apparently decided to answer for the whole room – not that Mary was going to object – before sliding a pawn into position. A few more moves, and this game would be done, although Mary had put up an exceptional fight. “If you really want to get in, you’re going to need someone with clout to get you that invite. Not just HCP clout either; they need favors to call in from the DVA. You need the push of someone important enough that it’s not worth the trouble for anyone to tell them no.”

  Nick mentally flipped through the number of people he knew who fit such a bill. “Too bad Alice’s dad isn’t fond of me… and is also an insane secret tyrant. Otherwise he might have been my best shot.”