by Hayes, Drew
Raze stood next to him, the only other one still down here who once knew the container’s contents as a man, not a science experiment. “Globe, you need to make me a promise. No matter how this goes, no matter what ends we come to, I think you’re the likeliest one to survive. That means it is your responsibility to make sure Chad and Miriam never see him like this. Never.”
“I’ll do all I can, but I think you might be overestimating my odds of survival.” Globe composed himself; this wasn’t the time to get lost in despair. They still had someone counting on them… assuming she hadn’t met a similar fate somewhere down the line.
From across the room, Adam stepped into view. Minutes earlier he’d discharged his remaining enhanced-amplification power into Globe, restarting his clock to an hour, then given the others the weaker enhancement that was all he could manage alone. With no more reason to keep Quentin’s form after that, he’d returned to his own until they decided what new copy would best help their efforts. “Hey you two, I found a door over here. Powerful locks, on par with the best we’ve seen in this place. Going to need some help.”
The two former Heroes looked at each other, Raze putting their question into words. “You think it’s her?”
“For Alice’s sake, I dearly hope so.” Globe turned away from the remains of his best friend and followed Adam down a hall to the door he’d indicated. With a minor effort Globe forced the door to unlock, keeping his defenses up in case this was some sort of trap.
Nothing leapt out at him as the door slid open, instead it revealed a room that didn’t match the rest of the base’s décor. White walls, soft chairs and blankets, a screen showing shifting high-definition images of a garden, all around a top-of-the-line hospital bed. In an instant, Globe knew the woman lying in it, her eyes trained on the screen, though she didn’t seem to be watching. Even with years since he’d last seen her in person, she was as distinctive as always: same blonde hair, same bright green eyes, same kind expression. He would always recognize Shelby Adair, the woman he’d watched marry his brother all those years ago. Moving slowly, Globe walked over to her, waiting for a reaction. She didn’t turn, didn’t twitch, didn’t blink. Just kept staring blankly at the screen.
“Is she… what’s wrong with her?” Adam asked.
“She’s in the same state she’s been stuck in ever since Charles tried to cure her. Trapped in her own power, unable to see or interact with the real world in any way. All Shelby can see are the potential futures. She’s lost in the lands of what may or may not come to be.”
Adam shuddered involuntarily. “That sounds horrible.”
“It almost certainly is. Yet it pales in comparison to the awful things Charles has done to set her free. But none of that is her fault. He’ll have to answer for his own sins.” With a careful motion, Globe began levitating Shelby off the bed. “Our job is to get her out safely, no matter how many Supers we have to fight our way through to do it.”
“I wish you wouldn’t tempt fate like that. You know they’ve been rallying troops behind us, the others are probably already holding them off,” Raze pointed out. “You’re the only one who is still fully enhanced, and we’re down Joan and Shimmerpath. Getting out is going to be a much harder fight than getting down was.”
“You know, I thought about that as we were coming in, and I realized something.” Globe looked to the ceiling, which began to buckle upward. “Now that we have Shelby, I no longer need to worry about this place’s structural integrity. Why don’t we grab the rest of our team and take the short way out?”
299.
It looked as though Charles was merely sitting at his desk, slowly draining a glass of scotch. Partly because he was, in fact, doing exactly that. But he was also doing more. Charles Adair was waiting. The calls were all in place, the contingencies activated. If the final seal was breached, he’d have to be ready. Should Globe make it that far, then they entered the end game. Charles would only have a few chips left to play, limited tactics he could throw out to try and salvage things.
Perhaps salvage was too strong of a word. The spectacle had already grown too large, the associated digital chatter deafening. The lab’s location was known, and the DVA was running around trying to figure out what to do. No matter how this shook out they were going to search it. Destroying the evidence was an option – explosives had been laid for such a contingency – but not even that was guaranteed to keep determined Supers from information they wanted. Besides, he couldn’t risk such a tactic, not with Shelby still in there. No, this was almost certainly the end of his fiscal spider web. These things tended to snowball, and Graham DeSoto wasn’t a man who could be bought off, so killing the investigation was a lost cause.
None of that really mattered, though. Charles liked luxury, always had, but it was a side effect, a show built up to explain his ruthless business expansion. The only thing he really cared about, the reason he’d started all this, could still be saved. Even if it wasn’t by him. That was the thing about fighting good guys: they played by the rules and conducted themselves with honor. A fine habit as far as the public was concerned, but one that opened itself up to exploitation.
The pale woman with a streak of blue in her hair appeared in front of Charles’ desk without warning. He didn’t so much as shake the glass in his hand; Charles had been expecting this. “The alert triggered?”
“Yes, sir. Shelby Adair has been moved from her bed, and reports from the field confirm our guards abandoned the bottom of the compound. Instead they are going to try and hold Globe at the exit.”
“Pointless.” With a deep gulp, Charles finished his drink and set the empty glass on the desk, replacing it in his hand with a silver gun plucked from a drawer. “No one ever listens when I tell them you can’t stop Phil. I keep trying to tell people, yet all of them think they’ll somehow be the one to do the impossible.”
“What orders would you like me to convey, sir?”
Charles rose from his desk, tucked the gun into a special pocket on his suit jacket, one custom made for just this purpose. “Anything I had you say would be a waste of breath, so you won’t be bothering with that lot. Instead, you’re going to take me there, to where the fight is happening.”
“Sir, I’m not sure–”
“Hush. This is how it must be. I don’t expect you to understand, so stick to doing as you’re told. I bought your service, not your counsel.”
* * *
Once the truth was out, there wasn’t any need for the deans to delay. A former Hero was breaking into a hidden lab to expose truth about a massive secret conspiracy. If that wasn’t the kind of situation that called for the response of Heroes, then it was hard to imagine what would. The only slightly difficult call had been whether to bring any of the professors along. Ultimately, Dean Blaine couldn’t bear to weaken his school by leaving it undefended; this situation didn’t eliminate the possibility of another hate group launching a strike on the campus. It was the sort of situation that type would happily take advantage of, given the chance. Plus, with Professor Pendleton suddenly missing and himself heading to the lab, Dean Blaine already felt like he was leaving Lander compromised. Thankfully, the glut of Heroes who had come to watch Intramurals were still there, so they would be able to pitch in if anything happened.
Getting there would be simple – one of the benefits from traveling with the head of the DVA. Graham only had to make a call and in no time a pair of teleporters were there, ready to hop them to the field. It was a far cry from the coach flights Dean Blaine typically had to take, but he didn’t complain. Such were the benefits of high positions, and if it got him to the battle even a second faster, Dean Blaine was fine with it.
The only pause they took was a brief, five-minute changing session which Graham spent arguing down all of his underlings who kept insisting that he couldn’t go into the field. It was a fight they were going to lose, because that was what happened to those who tried to go against Captain Starlight. Dean Blaine paid that little
mind; he was more intent on completing his own task.
It was a quick process. Faster than it should have been, but years of practice and habit didn’t fade that easily. Almost a year since he’d done this last, and it still felt like only yesterday. Putting on his armor, his suit, his costume, it was like stepping into a new skin – the skin of another person, one kept deep inside the understanding administrator that was Dean Blaine. Because this version of him wasn’t a teacher, wasn’t thoughtful and patient. This part of him was born from being functionally mortal in a world of the nearly divine, the piece that struck hard and fast because hesitation would almost certainly lead to death. This part of Blaine didn’t have the luxury of patience and kindness. Sometimes, bits of it slipped through, even without the costume, but this was different. This was him giving over to it, trusting it to keep him alive at least long enough to see the job finished.
Slipping his helmet on, Dean Blaine vanished into the mantle of Zero, a change he’d hoped to never make again yet deep down had always known he’d have to. Before he could leave, a knock came on the door, revealing Dean Silva. She grew her own costume, thick bark forming an armor over her skin, a dense moss serving as a thick padding in between bark sections.
“Been a long time since I saw that suit. I heard some of the people you put away used to have nightmares about it, say they could see that white circle coming for them out of the shadows.”
“Are you really one to talk about nightmares? I’ve walked in on entire gangs who would throw down their weapons if they even heard Overgrowth was within their zip code,” Zero replied.
“What’s wrong with nightmares? From what I saw, you’ve raised a whole crop of them.” She crooked a finger, motioning that it was time to head out.
“Let’s go give the poor bastards in our way some new ones.”
300.
It was a standoff, one that couldn’t last long. Whatever plan Charles Adair might have had for this day, there was no chance it included several costumed Heroes gathering at the fringes of a sea of Supers in combat equipment. The tension between both groups, so thick it was nearly visible through the tight faces and firm grips on weapons. Even from their place farther away, off near the tree line, Vince could read the signs of growing escalation.
“The guards are claiming that this is a situation wherein the employees of a privately-held property are responding to an intruder, and that since no police reports or requests have gone out, the Heroes don’t have jurisdiction to intervene. The Heroes are arguing that there have been reports of a wanted criminal showing up – here they’re talking about Globe – and the DVA has ordered investigation. None of the guards want to fight the Heroes, but they will, and worse, they know they’ll have to soon. Once Globe shows up, all bets are off. He’s an Armageddon-level Super; no amount of private property claims will keep the Heroes from going after him.” Mary opened her eyes, momentarily turning her attention away from the waves of thoughts washing over her.
Nearby, Roy finished downing a deep gulp of whiskey from a silver flask. “And until he shows, it’s just a good ole-fashioned dick measuring contest. If things pop off early, are we jumping in?”
“No.” Alice was at the edge of the forest, eyes unwavering from the crowd gathered near the bunker. “The guards have a significant numbers advantage, but the Heroes are much better trained, and they probably already have reinforcements on the way. Heroes can handle themselves. Our goal is to find and protect my mother.”
“Getting her out will be tricky. There are either a lot of anchors or a few very strong ones blocking off teleportation here, so we can’t pop anyone out.” Mr. Transport looked mildly uncomfortable as he spoke, visibly uneasy about not being able to jump through space on a whim. Alice had been the one to get them the last few miles, flying them here at a pace that left everyone feeling vaguely unsafe. To her credit, she’d done the job flawlessly, even putting them down in a tree line with a good view to the scene below. The fact remained, however, that not having teleportation was going to make things much harder.
For his part, Vince was still trying to wrap his mind around everything Alice had told them during the trip. That Globe was innocent came as no real surprise; he’d always known his father wasn’t the kind of man to kill a friend in cold blood. But the revelations about Alice’s own dad were another matter. The mere idea that he’d put all of this together, that he’d been the one responsible for Intra’s death, that the demise of Chad’s father was supposedly the bedrock on which the Powered-to-Super procedure was built… it was a lot to take in. Much as Vince loved being a Super, and perhaps soon a Hero, he couldn’t imagine he’d have taken the bargain if he’d known what it had cost someone else. There was no way to give it back, though – not that doing so would return Intra to life anyway. The most Vince could think of was to make sure he used this gift well, to honor the loss of the man who’d made it possible.
Roy, on the other hand, had taken up different concerns. He gave his bat a careful test swing, feeling the heft in his hands. “I wonder if Coach George will be with them.”
“If he is, you know he’ll technically be on our side, right? No payback for last time.” Mary shot a firm glare over to Roy, making it abundantly clear that she knew what he’d been thinking.
“Sure sure, he’s starting off on our side. I’m just planning to keep an eye out for any back-stabbing.” Another swing, this time a little harder than before.
Mr. Numbers was leaning against a tree, unmoving, as he looked out on the crowd. “I suppose it’s too much to hope you’ve gotten any stray thoughts from Globe or his people?”
“No luck there. I’m guessing he created a shield or something around them to keep thoughts from broadcasting. Makes sense, there’s no way I’m the only telepath here.” With a start, Mary jerked up straight. “Oh no. What if someone down there is listening to us?”
Barely twitching, Mr. Numbers nonetheless managed to shake his head slightly. “Highly unlikely. Remember, few telepaths can function at higher ranges, especially with so many voices to sort through. Anyone else scanning thoughts is going to be focused on the key points of interest, namely the guards, Heroes, and the participants of whatever fighting is happening in the base. We might be noticed, but by my estimations it won’t matter soon. Given the gathering of forces, it seems obvious the plan is to block Globe at the exit. With no one stopping him, it won’t take long for Globe to reach the chokepoint. The real question is whether the guards will be able to halt his advance before the Heroes catch sight of their target.”
“That seems like the sort of firefight that could put my mom at risk,” Alice said.
“From all accounts, Globe is the sort of man who will do anything to keep innocents safe. However, he is not perfect, and people have died in his care before. I won’t make you false promises; that situation will be a dangerous one for both Globe and Shelby.” Mr. Numbers, as usual, was not one to hide the truth for the sake of sentiment.
Alice’s hands were tightening into fists, a clear indicator that she was about to storm down there no matter who was in her way, when Mary suddenly perked up. “Something’s happening. Something neither side was expecting.”
In a rush, they all raced to the tree line to look, except Mr. Numbers, who took his time. Confusion and suspicion were rippling off both parts of the crowd as they milled about, Heroes and guards equally caught unawares.
“It’s the ground.” Mary doled her explanation out with quick words, mind preoccupied by assessing thoughts in real time. “There’s a rumble coming from below their feet, and both sides suspect the other of starting an attack.”
“Are either of them right?” Roy asked.
No one had the chance to respond. The source of the issue became visible before their eyes. The ground bubbled upward in the southeastern section of the bunker, causing the building to rise and crack, revealing even more soldiers inside. The bubble continued, unbothered by the minor inconvenience of the enormous structu
re just as it had ignored all the previous obstacles. Dirt ran and grass flew as the soil was pushed higher and higher, until finally it burst like a pimple on the face of the Earth, spraying more turf and flecks of metal into the air.
From the hole rose a hunk of flooring, on which stood five figures, with one more supine. A pair of Razes flanked either side of the platform, with Coach George and Coach Persephone taking the middle positions. And there, in the dead center, carefully cradling a limp woman, was the infamous villain Globe.
Briefly the world stood silent in shock at the scene. It was impossible to say who took the first shot: too many people, already instants away from attacking, suddenly had a justified target to go after. It didn’t matter anyway. The first shot was only that by random chance, because it was followed by countless others nanoseconds later. The sky lit up as an unholy torrent of bullets, energy, and various projectiles were all flung at Globe simultaneously.
Over such a commotion, it was perhaps understandable that no one on the battlefield heard the distant voice of a young woman screaming in concern for her mother.
301.
So many attacks striking at once created a dense fog around the target, momentarily obscuring Globe and others from view. Alice was gone before the smoke cleared, rocketing off so fast that the twigs around her shattered from sloppy gravitational pull. As soon as he saw her moving, racing toward the giant ball of destruction, Vince let out a mighty blast of kinetic energy and leapt into the sky after her. Roy was only a few seconds behind, soaring through the air on Vince’s heels.
“Not even a moment’s concern for their safety,” Mr. Numbers noted.
“They all care about their safety, just not as much as they care about someone else’s.” As she spoke, Mary telekinetically knocked over a small tree and levitated it up three feet off the ground. “Alice is worried about her mother, Vince and Roy are worried about Alice, and Vince is also scared for his father. Besides, rushing in when people are in need is supposed to be what Heroes do.”
