by Hayes, Drew
Graham paused for a moment, taking a slow breath. As he did, the years seemed to melt away. This wasn’t a power like what Casper wielded; it was the mundane marvel of watching the man who had brought Supers out into the open set his determination. When his eyes opened, they were blazing, showing no trace of the tired old man who’d been there moments prior.
“All of that comes later, though. Right now, there are people who need help – former Heroes and perhaps at least one innocent life. I’m not a wily man, never have been. That means we’re going to deal with this threat the way I used to: storming in and doing our damnedest to keep the good people alive. There will be fallout, and while I’ll try like hell, I can’t promise it will all stop with me.
Measuring the others’ obvious but muted confusion, Graham went on. “In one minute, Dean Blaine is going to read you all in on a secret mission he’s been undertaking to root out corruption in the Hero system. Once you know, you’re in, there’s no going back. Take that minute and think it over. Really consider your positions and your legacy. I won’t fault anyone who leaves. I know you’ve got entire schools counting on you. This is asking you to risk more than just yourselves.”
None of the deans so much as twitched. Their stares were locked on Graham, who was standing patiently as time ticked down. Only Casper spoke, rising swiftly from his chair. “Well, sounds like you all have quite a day ahead. Let me get out of your hair, I’m not sure why I was brought down here in the first place.”
“You were brought down because we’re talking about dealing with Globe and a small army of Supers. That’s the sort of situation where the world’s best healer might come in handy,” Graham told him.
“Then you should probably call the best Hero healer you’ve got. That’s not me. I’m private industry, remember? If you want to cut a check after the fight we can talk, but I don’t do battlefields anymore.” Casper headed for the door, purposefully avoiding everyone’s eyes.
He was nearly there, hand only inches away from the button to call a lift, when Graham spoke again. “There’s one more thing you might want to know. Part of the report I got informed me that there’s been an escape from one of our prisons, a very high-security location. It seems the Super known as Crispin was sprung not long ago. You may remember him as the man who came for Lander a year ago, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.”
Next to Graham, Dean Blaine’s face began to turn red as his fists clenched, but he said nothing.
“And?” Casper’s hand was so close, it would be nothing to shove it that little bit forward.
“And if you think that’s a coincidence, you’re an idiot. Which I know you’re not. Smart money says someone needed an amplifier, so they grabbed a willing one off the shelf. Either Crispin is still there, or he’ll have left a trail to follow. We all just watched a boy barely old enough to buy a beer fight with everything he had to show how much this place meant to him, and that was for a simple contest. I brought you down here with me because I thought that under everything else, if there was any pride or strength left in you, it would show up now, when a man who attacked this place was suddenly set free to kill more innocent people. Maybe I was wrong. It happens. I’m old, I’ve been wrong a lot. The minute is up, Casper. Push the button or take a seat.”
The hand lurched slightly forward. How many times had he been in these situations? How many meetings before the bloodshed? How many more lives would he fail to save this time, how many corpses would be put in the ground, how many grieving family members would stare at him like he should have been able to do something? It was too much. Too much. Most people who knew him thought it had been that day at the elementary school that had shattered Hallow, but the truth was he’d been fraying long before. He couldn’t handle the guilt, the weight, the expectations. At least in the air, he was free. He could go back there, right now. He could be free. All he had to do was turn his back on some people he’d once thought of as friends. It was what he’d been doing for years, so it should be easy.
“Go ahead, Blaine.” Casper lowered his hand and slowly walked back to his chair, sitting down heavily. “But let me make one thing clear: nobody call me Hallow. A Hero’s name is supposed to mean something. I’m just a freelance healer helping some old friends, nothing more.”
“So noted.” The barest twinkle was in Graham’s eye, a mere flash that was easy to miss if one wasn’t paying attention. “Blaine, the time for secrets is over. Tell them everything.”
297.
The two men had barely managed to find a small alcove of privacy, Mr. Transport sputtering protests the whole way, before Mr. Numbers cut him off and began to explain. He kept things quick and vague, a necessity given their surroundings, trying to bring Mr. Transport up to speed enough to understand why they were having the discussion in the first place. Thankfully, some of the benefits to a partnership that spanned decades included lots of trust and speedy communication. In less than a minute, Mr. Transport understood the bare bones of the situation. The trouble was that once he did, he asked the same question that Mr. Numbers was struggling to answer.
“What do we do?”
That was the riddle of the day, it seemed. From what he’d seen, Mr. Numbers was willing to bet that very soon the site would be swarming with Heroes, DVA representatives, and every Super willing to cash one of Charles’ paychecks, all on top of Globe’s team. Nevertheless, there were a lot of variables that Mr. Numbers knew he couldn’t properly calculate, not without insider access to what the DVA was planning. They kept those channels secured for a reason, though. He couldn’t be sure what the right move was. Maybe they’d need to jump in and save Shelby before she could get caught in the crossfire. Maybe they should help Globe’s team try to escape. Perhaps they might even have to lend a hand in the fighting. Too many unknown variables meant they had to be ready for countless situations. There was, however, one component Mr. Numbers was absolutely certain was essential.
“We get you there as fast as possible. Not involved, not until we know more, but you being able to teleport into and out of the fray will be a key to virtually anything we could hope to do. None of the reports gave a location, but I’ve pieced together enough data to narrow it down to a single patch of supposedly undeveloped wilderness.” Mr. Numbers pulled out his phone, opening a map function and showing it to Mr. Transport. “What’s the nearest teleportation point you have to this?”
It took a few seconds, and a bit of fiddling with the screen, but eventually Mr. Transport handed the phone back. “I passed through a town maybe fifty miles away on a road trip once. Too far to drive, but we could hopscotch it in a couple of minutes.”
“That’s going to be conspicuous,” Mr. Numbers pointed out.
“With what’s going on, you think somebody will notice? Or that we’ll be the only ones doing it?” Mr. Transport shook his head. “The last thing anyone will care about is two people like us popping around. Not until we actually do something.”
“Let me take a wild shot here: hopscotching is when you look as far in one direction as you can and then teleport there, then do it again, and again, in rapid succession. Great way to cover a lot of distance, assuming the topography doesn’t make it a pain.” Alice stepped into view from around the corner, with Vince close behind. Although she wore something of a playful expression, there was nothing so easygoing in Vince’s eyes.
Before anyone could say another word, Vince asked the question whose answer determined everything about how he was going to react. “Is it him? Is it my father?”
The nod that Mr. Numbers gave was achingly slow and visibly annoyed. “From all accounts, it seems that way. I’d also like to add that I don’t approve of you eavesdropping.”
“If you hated it that much, you could have said something. I’m pretty good at being sneaky, but we both know your ability must have tipped you off. Taking a guess, you let us listen because we might end up being useful. And now you can honestly say that we brought ourselves into it. Right?” Alice
was bobbing about, light on her feet. After suffering a defeat at Intramurals, it felt good to be using her skills once more. “Well good news, it worked. We are definitely in. If you think either of us is going to sit on the sidelines and wait while my mom is in play, even only potentially, then you’d better be hiding by the time we get there.” The cheery mood slipped, revealing the more tumultuous emotions Alice was hiding beneath its veneer. “Because if you try to get between my mother and me, I’m not sure we’ll still see you as allies.”
“Alice.” Vince set a hand on her shoulder, gently moving her back. “I won’t say I know how you feel, but I want to be there too. Mr. Numbers and Mr. Transport are our friends, though. Let’s treat them that way. I’m sure they were never going to do anything as inconsiderate or dangerous as leaving us behind.”
Mr. Numbers opened his mouth, but it was Mr. Transport who spoke, stepping closer to look both students in the eye. “Listen, while I’m not sure what Mr. Numbers was thinking, this battlefield isn’t going to be a place for you. Not students your age, not civilians who lack a Hero license, and certainly not the children of Globe and The Alchemist. This is going to be dangerous, and while I know you both think of yourselves as capable, the truth is you’re also potential bargaining chips. If someone takes either of you hostage, they suddenly get a lot of sway on one of the battle’s leaders. You want to help, and I understand. But coming with us might end up putting the people you love in more danger.”
“That was a very nice speech,” Alice told him. “You clearly believed every word of it, and I appreciate the sentiment. Now let me give you my spiel: No. My father has been pulling strings and manipulating events since before I said my first word. What happened to my mother… that wasn’t all his fault. I can see how a desperate man listened to the pleas of someone he loved and made a hard choice. But everything that came afterward is fully on his shoulders. These two have been fighting in shadows for decades, and it always ends in more of the same. So no, I don’t accept your concerns or your desire to keep us safe. If they found the lab, then my mother is there. I couldn’t stop Charles from taking her away last time. This will not be a repeat of that.”
Mr. Numbers and Mr. Transport exchanged glances, a silent discussion that consisted of only a single question. Eventually, Mr. Transport turned back, his words hesitant. “A rescue mission. That’s all it would be, nothing more. We hang to the sidelines, and if we see someone who needs help getting out, someone innocent like your mother, then we act. Nothing beyond that. I’m not teleporting you into a swarm of dangerous Supers so you can pick a fight. At this point, you’re more or less trained as Heroes, so I expect you to know the difference between a rescue mission and an assault.”
“I can live with that,” Alice replied. “Vince?”
“I won’t start anything,” Vince said. “But if I see someone in trouble, I’ll help.”
“That’s about as much as I could expect from you.” It almost seemed like there was a flicker of pride in Mr. Transport’s eyes, even as he worked to look annoyed. “I wish Mary was around to keep you both in check, but there’s no sense in dragging others into this.”
Footsteps echoed nearby, and seconds later Mary jogged into view, followed by Roy. She caught sight of the group and let out a quick breath of relief. “Good, we caught you before you left.”
Mr. Transport, fleetingly wondering if he’d just developed the power to summon people by mentioning them, looked from the new arrivals to Vince and Alice, then finally over to Mr. Numbers. “You began loudly thinking that these two should join us the moment Vince and Alice started eavesdropping, didn’t you? Trusting that Mary would be keeping her mind open to scan for any early signs Lander was being attacked again?”
“Time is of the essence.” It was hard to tell if this was Mr. Numbers’ version of an explanation, an apology, or just a general comment. “And, as you said, Mary has a restraining effect on the group’s more impulsive ideas.”
“It’s fine, it saves us the time of running her down and explaining everything.” Alice’s voice halted, her eyes darting between Roy and Vince. “Although, there is still some explaining to do. Vince, Roy, there are facets of what’s been going on we were asked to keep private, but if we’re about to dive in to what I think we are, then you both need to know the whole truth. I’ll fill you in while we’re teleporting, far from prying ears.”
“On the subject of prying, I couldn’t find Nick’s thoughts anywhere,” Mary said. “I’m guessing he somehow got off campus when I was busy doing debriefs.”
A brief pause rippled over them before Alice finally said what they were all thinking. “He’s already there, isn’t he? And he’ll probably never tell us how he pulled it off.”
“That does sound like Nick,” Vince agreed. “Plus, if Mary can’t find him, we don’t have time to search. Let’s just trust he’s taking care of things in his own way and go worry about the people that actually need our help.”
Mr. Transport moved slightly, putting himself in the center of the crowd and sticking out his arms. The HCP students, current and former, understood and grabbed on. “Doing rapid teleports means you all need to hang on tight. I don’t want to accidentally leave someone behind. Mr. Numbers, I trust you’ve already sent a message to the Lander staff so they know four kids didn’t just go missing?”
“Of course. Set to send in a few minutes, once we’re safely out of Dean Blaine’s punching range.” Mr. Numbers was, after all, a man who took all the factors possible into his calculations. “Besides, I have no doubt that word will get around.” Only Alice saw his eyes glance off down a hall, in a direction from which none of them had come. Before she could ask a follow up, Alice was gone, along with the others, as Mr. Transport teleported them away.
A few seconds later, Angela DeSoto stepped into the alcove, slight grin on her face. This was turning out to be a more interesting day than she’d hoped for.
298.
“They’re coming!”
“Well hold them back!” Crispin pressed his hands into the yelling man’s flesh, imparting as much enhancement as he could. The receiving Super fired off a powerful beam of burning white energy, far more intense than anything he could have managed alone. It blazed down the hall, lighting the darkness as it went, before suddenly dying into nothingness. Not a crash, not hitting a shield – it simply ceased to be. No question about it. The lines had broken. The defenses had failed.
Globe was here.
Behind Crispin, the man in a suit who was acting as his handler whispered a few words into a communicator. Without warning, he whipped a hand forward and wrapped it around Crispin’s neck. Instantly, the world shifted. They were still in the bunker, but no longer at the bottom. The sounds of battle were distant, and instead of witnessing the approach of Globe, Crispin was instead staring at a fresh group of Supers equipped with tactical gear.
“Had our teleportation anchors give me a brief window to work in,” the suited man explained. “We can’t hold that position, but from reports we’ve gotten they are starting to weaken and slow down. If they’re using amplification, the effects might be fading. Instead of losing you pointlessly we’re going to give you one more shot: stop them from getting out. This is the exit: make sure Globe and his people never set a single foot past here.”
There were plenty of objections Crispin could have raised, not that any of them would have mattered. He was here, under this man’s power, and nothing he said right now would change that. Better to play along, be a good tool, and wait for a chance to slip free. If things continued their descent into chaos, it probably wouldn’t be much longer.
Grabbing the nearest Super, Crispin began to enhance her. The juice was coming slower now; constant usage took a toll on all powers and Crispin’s was no exception. It had been a very long time since he tried to amplify this many people at once. Perhaps a healer could have aided his endurance, though he’d yet to encounter one among all the armed Supers. If a healer was here, they were
n’t anywhere near the fight, a significance that wasn’t lost on Crispin. Win or die: those were the options the owner of this base had left for their employees.
“Any idea how long he’ll be down there?” Crispin asked, not daring to stop working as he did.
“It shouldn’t take him long to get what he’s after, but Globe is the sentimental sort. Hopefully that will buy us some time.” The teleporter in a suit checked his watch, his previously composed face showing signs of anxiety. “Five minutes of mourning, maybe. Potentially less, depending on what he finds first.”
* * *
What Globe found first was Intra. In a manner of speaking, anyway.
The metal holding tanks filled with strange fluid contained pieces of the man once known as Joshua Taylor, father of Chad and husband of Miriam. Arm here, leg there, all kept disturbingly fresh, like he’d only died a few weeks ago. The brain was in the largest container, chunks visibly missing, dozens of wires connecting it to unseen devices. Globe might not have known it was his best friend at all, if not for the labels and the container holding what remained of a face.
In battle, Globe had seen this kind of carnage and worse. But that was in the field, when action and desperation gave drew focus elsewhere. Finding it here, like this, he almost lost his stomach right there on the floor.
