Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  Dimly, Vince realized he’d just intentionally killed someone for the first time. When this was over, when there was time to think, he knew such a fact would hit him hard. Mourning came later, though. Survival was the priority now: his own and that of the people he loved.

  “We’re safe to move, or at least we don’t have to worry about that guy. Let’s get Roy to the healer.” Vince turned around to find that Roy was no longer on the ground. Instead, he was laid across the back of a floating tree trunk, held by Mr. Numbers and Mr. Transport, who were seated just behind Mary.

  “I may have quit the Hero life, but I’m not leaving you idiots on your own,” she explained. “Medical transportation seems like a good gig to take in this fray. We’ll get Roy over to the healer; you keep doing what you came here to do.”

  “Mind if I bum a ride?” George asked. “I’d be a lot more effective in the air without this busted thruster.”

  Mary’s eyes narrowed. This was the first time she’d seen the man since he tried to kidnap her freshman year. “I hate that I can’t read your mind in robot form. Vince, you make the call.”

  “Globe trusts him, and he gave us a warning before the orb hit. In a situation like this, that’s probably as good as we’re going to get.”

  After several long seconds, Mary finally nodded. “Tree is full, though. I’ll have to drag you along. Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to be gentle.”

  Before George could properly protest he was up in the air, floating below Mary and her tree. She paused only to shoot Vince a quick stare. “If I tell you not to go into the middle of the fight, will you listen?”

  “Not as long as that’s where my father is.”

  “Then at least be careful. Think about how you felt seeing Roy fall, and imagine what the rest of us would go through if you died. People are counting on you, Vince, so that means you have to stay alive. Death isn’t a luxury Heroes are permitted.”

  Then she was gone, zipping around the outskirts of the battlefield as she made her way to the giant tree. A few wild shots would occasionally come near her, but Mr. Numbers was tapping her on the shoulder, detailing evasive maneuvers as they flew.

  For the first time since his few minutes in the prep room, Vince was alone. Ahead of him, still some ways off, was the bubble of power moving around the battlefield, drawing the attention of guards and Heroes alike, although more and more of the former than the latter. To get to Globe, all he had to do was cross a sea of amped-up guards firing at everyone that wandered into their path not wearing the same combat gear, plus any Heroes who might mistake him for being on the other side. After all, he wasn’t really wearing a costume either.

  “Kinetic is good.” There was no one to talk to, but it felt assuring to hear a voice as he went through his inventory, even if the voice was his own. “Fire is good, as always. Electricity could be higher, but I can manage. Plenty of light, for what that’s worth. Not much of Thomas’s power left; I burned most of that in my fights.” Minimal shielding options, but lots to attack with. Pretty much the opposite of what he wanted for trying to covertly cross a battlefield. Worse, he wouldn’t be able to rely on absorption much: there were too many different and unique forms of attacks being traded. Even if he could learn to take in the new energy forms on the fly (and that was giving himself a huge amount of credit) if more than one came at the same time he would be cooked.

  So, all that stood between Vince and reuniting with his father was near-certain death or injury. It was daunting, sure, but compared to when he’d thought the man dead, this was a relatively minor hurdle. Crossing a battlefield was at least possible, unlike bringing someone back from the grave. Which meant Vince had to make sure Globe didn’t cross that line for real.

  Taking a short running start, Vince hopped twice to get a rhythm, then leapt high into the air.

  * * *

  “Anchors, give me a five second drop in three, two, one, now!”

  The man in a suit, Crispin’s keeper, was barking orders into his communicator. It almost felt like the right time to make a move, but Crispin resisted. There was too much going on; it felt like a setup. When something seemed too easy, it usually was. So he kept at it, amping up another guard even as his hands were starting to shake from exhaustion.

  In a formerly empty room, a new group of guards appeared. The upside to controlling the teleportation-blocking Supers was that they managed to create brief, coordinated gaps that were then used to bring in reinforcements. Crispin paid them no mind as they received their orders, the same orders every other batch had gotten. Priority one was killing Globe, priority two was keeping the Heroes out of this base until purging protocol could be fully enacted. Globe’s smashing through had damaged a lot of systems, the self-destruction sequence among them. As soon as it was up and running, they could get rid of the evidence inside, but until then Heroes couldn’t be allowed to get through. The guards would probably die today, and knew it. But the sums their families would receive could change their lives. It was amazing the things people were willing to sacrifice for the ones they loved.

  There was one anomaly in this batch, though. Crispin’s keeper began to stammer when a figure not wearing combat gear suddenly stepped into view. “Mr. Adair! What are you doing here, sir?”

  “A leader belongs on the front lines, doesn’t he? Or do you think I’m so far removed from my Hero days that I’ve forgotten that lesson?” Charles Adair made his way over, up to and past the suit who had been keeping tabs on Crispin since the escape. He kept walking, all the way to Crispin, the two men meeting face-to-face for the first time.

  “You look tired,” Charles noted. “You must be giving everything you have to provide our people with an edge. I appreciate that level of effort, I truly do.”

  “Nice of you to notice. I’d be happy to help more if you have a healer that can restore stamina.”

  “I’m sure we do somewhere, but this is the last batch we’ll be able to bring in, and you seem to be at your limit. Perhaps rest is the best cure.” Charles Adair smiled, which would have been a clear warning sign if Crispin knew him better. Arm moving like the strike of a serpent, Charles slammed the butt of his gun into Crispin’s temple, sending him to the floor in a crumpled mess.

  “Lander was my school too, you know. More importantly, it’s where I met the woman I love. Rest well. I hope Blaine is the first one to find you when this is all over.” Turning back to his troops, Charles raised his voice. “All right, the amplifier is down, but we still have a tremendous numbers advantage. I know the way Heroes fight, and with our superior forces, many of which are still amplified, we can win this day. Just keep your comms on, follow orders, and never give in. Heroes aren’t perfect. They don’t win every fight. I know that firsthand. Today you have a rare chance to show them just how beatable they really are.”

  304.

  The sudden arrival of the HCP deans had momentarily turned the tide of the battle. Their overwhelming power put on display was enough to scare even the most devoted of soldiers. With different motivations, the guards might have broken into a run. Unfortunately, these were people who knew they’d be better served by a death in the fray than a few extra days on the run, so they continued to fight, even as it seemed increasingly hopeless. Then more guards had begun pouring out of the bunker, greater numbers than anyone expected, and while it didn’t put the Heroes on the ropes, it made things significantly harder on them. Given that many of the new guards were coming out with amped up abilities, a few were even able to take on the Heroes one-on-one. Still, it was a fight, with both sides working hard to overtake the other.

  Just when it seemed like the Heroes might retake the advantage, however, the east side of the bunker literally cracked open. Walls exploded as new troops came rushing out, far more than anyone could have anticipated – a fresh wave against the weary Heroes doing their best to hold the line. They surged like insects across the battlefield, sheer numbers managing to overwhelm and push back the already stressed Heroes.r />
  Graham DeSoto watched it all happen from the tree that Dean Silva, the Hero once called Overgrowth, had used to transport them. This was looking bad. As soon as he’d arrived on the scene, he’d put in a call for backup, but the teleportation blocks were making things difficult. By the time more Heroes managed to respond, get to their nearest teleportation point, and make the rest of the trip, it was possible the fight could already be won. Charles had picked a good location: no roads, no clear paths, and now no way to teleport. A few Heroes would be able to cross the distance without issue, speedsters and strongmen who jumped, but most of those couldn’t bring their teammates along. A couple more bodies wouldn’t make the difference; they needed coordination and overwhelming power to turn back that many troops.

  There was one chance, though. He could play on their fears, the most primal parts of their minds. Looking at his weathered hand, Graham flexed his fingers, the barest shape of a silver metal blade forming from the light around them. Maybe… maybe seeing Captain Starlight would be enough to scare them, to break their resolve. It was a hell of a gamble, especially given that all his reasons for staying on the sidelines still held true. But in the end, he had to protect his fellow Heroes. If Captain Starlight had even the chance of doing that, then wasn’t it worth the risk?

  “Incoming.” Casper was surprisingly blasé as he announced the flying tree trunk that was zooming in to them. Before they could wonder if it bore friend or foe, the tree had arrived. A small young woman sat on the front, two men in suits on the back holding a shirtless fellow who looked like he’d walked through hellfire, and a robot wobbling a few feet below them. As soon as they stopped, the robot fell to the ground roughly, picking itself up in a hurry.

  “Mr. DeSoto, my name is Mary, I’m a former student from Lander. The guy with the burns is Roy, or maybe I should call him Ettin out here. Anyway, he really needs healing, so I was hoping you could talk your lackey into helping.” She paused briefly, glancing over at the metal man. “Oh, and Coach George, the wanted criminal, would also like some help. He can make his own case to you.”

  It was a lot to take in without warning, but this was hardly Graham’s first time in combat. He broke down the information in seconds and reached a decision. “Casper, heal the boy. I’ll figure out what to do about George.”

  “He’s a student,” Casper pointed out. “Maybe it’s better to just heal him enough so he isn’t in danger while keeping him out of the fight. Unless you want children in that chaos.”

  “If this year’s Intramurals showed me nothing else, it’s that this year’s students are more than capable of taking on the mantle of Hero. Besides, they’re weeks from graduation, and at this point an almost-Hero is better than none at all.” Graham stopped, giving a heavy shrug that there was no way Casper could miss. “Of course, if you want to tell Titan that you wouldn’t heal his son, you can go right ahead and do it. Just be sure to mention that I was all for patching the boy up.”

  Casper’s face flushed and his eyes went wide as understanding set in. Without another word, he jumped over to Roy and began to remove the burns. It was hard not to smile to himself, but Graham managed. This was not the time for joy or grins. They were still on the losing side of a hard battle… one that he might have to join soon.

  “With respect, sir, might I recommend waiting a little longer?” Mary was still floating there, although unlike the others, her attention was on Graham instead of Roy. “Sorry, I think you probably didn’t mean to let that slip, but in a fight like this I have to keep my mind open.”

  Petite, telepathic, able to mentally lift so much without visible strain; suddenly it all clicked into place for Graham. “You’re the one who dropped out midway through the year. The advanced mind Blaine thought might take top of the class.”

  “He told you about me?” To her own surprise, Mary was a touch embarrassed to have been talked up to such a legend.

  “Couldn’t very well bring me up to speed on all of this without mentioning you,” Graham replied. “I’ll take the bait. Why should I wait to get involved? Most of my reinforcements are still a way off from joining us.”

  Mary’s reply was coupled with a simple, coy grin. “There’s a fight here, isn’t there? A big fight, with lots of stakes, and odds stacked against us. Did you really think she wouldn’t show up? Based on the locations in her mind, it shouldn’t be long at all now.”

  * * *

  Patience was its own power, in a way. Crispin could have gotten back up after the blow, prattling on about how he’d had training of his own and taken far tougher hits than that. Instead, he waited, lying on the ground, shamefully prone, as the others filed out. No one spared a thought for him; he was a battery that had been temporarily used up. He was irrelevant in the face of the Heroes they had to battle. So Crispin stayed like that until almost everyone was gone, and the few who remained weren’t paying him any attention.

  Finally, at just the right moment, he silently climbed to his feet and dashed out the nearest exit, a part of the bunker that had once been a wall. By sheer fortune, he found himself running away from the fight. Behind him was a sea of blood and battle, but ahead there was a large hill dotted by trees. If he could make his way over it, get out of sight, then he had a fighting chance to vanish in the confusion. Crispin would live to fight another day, and when he came back it would be with enough force to crush the entire Hero system and everyone in it. Only such absolute victory would sate his thirst for revenge.

  The golden blades fell perfectly across his path, seven swords stabbing into the ground, forcing Crispin to come to a skidding halt like he was sliding for second base. He scrambled to his feet in no time to find a person in golden armor landing behind the swords.

  “Well damn! Here I was expecting you to be in the middle of everything, the prize at the bottom of the cereal I would have to fight my way through bullshit to get. I guess this is a freebie.”

  Bad, this was bad. Crispin had kept tabs on the Hero world by necessity; he was keenly aware of the Hero named Charon who wielded golden weapons with dangerous accuracy. There was only one card he had to play, so he didn’t waste time busting it out. “You could catch me, yes. I won’t deny that. But look behind me, to all the fighting going on. The others need you, Charon. They need more than you, really. They need an army. I can give you that kind of power. A Super like you has nearly boundless potential. Let me go, and I’ll make you so strong that you’ll be comparable to the army they need.”

  “Hmm… tempting. Really tempting. Except, there’s one little problem with that. I don’t actually need to be the equivalent of an army.” Charon clapped her gauntlet-covered hands together twice. Behind her, perfectly in Crispin’s view, a new shape began to rise over the hill: A living wave of dirt and earth, at least two dozen figures perched atop it.

  “Too bad for you, fucker. I brought my own.”

  305.

  “Not yet.”

  Joan was fuming, and Clarissa shot Nick a glare that could have withered roses. They were all there, tucked away at the tree line, watching from cover. He’d been in no hurry to arrive, saying their role was some time off, and even upon arrival Nick told them to stay put. As he explained it, there was a moment when their fortunes were most suited to entering the fray, and that point had not arrived yet. It was hard to stay here, watching their friends fight, seeing Globe take endless fire as he floated around the field drawing attention. Finally, Clarissa’s patience wore thin.

  “That’s it. Luck or not, we’re going in. I can’t sit here and–”

  Her words trailed off as, across the battlefield, she saw a wave of earth rise over a hill, the telltale white uniforms of HCP seniors riding the crest. Clarissa’s eyes darted to Nick, who was still standing there peacefully. “You knew this was coming?”

  “I knew what would happen if Angela DeSoto overheard key information. She’s wild in battle but predictable in life. And there was a slim chance that she would receive that information. I just gave
a little nudge to make sure she got it. Now, are you going to charge on to a battlefield where you can’t even use your teleportation powers, or will you trust me a little longer?”

  Even she wasn’t sure of the answer until her hand came up, motioning for Joan to stand down. “A little longer. As soon as someone deals with the anchors, I’m getting back out there.”

  “Of course,” Nick agreed. “But for now, I recommend you get a good seat. This should be a fun show.”

  * * *

  “H-how? How are you…” Crispin was sputtering, the sudden appearance of more enemies one more surprise than even he could deal with so quickly.

  “I heard there was going to be a dust-up, and that sounded fun. Then I dug a little deeper with some DVA contacts and found out that you were here, and that’s a different matter. Because here’s the thing about Heroes: we might compete, and fight, and sometimes genuinely not even like each other, but at the end of the day we know whose side we’re on. Who our people are. You attacked an HCP, Crispin, and you put one of us in the ground. When I told the others they had a chance to fuck up your day, I literally couldn’t take names fast enough.”

  A figure hurled itself from the top of the hill, soaring through the air and clearing the battlefield. More followed, paths of dirt spilling down to drop them into the fray. One woman landed, took two steps, and proceeded to conjure a wall of fire that completely surrounded a section of unprepared guards.

  “Not just Lander people, either. Today, you get the best we have to offer.” Charon pointed a gauntlet finger back toward the battle. “Shouldn’t you be running by now?”

  “So you can stab me in the back?”

  To Crispin’s surprise, that drew a genuine laugh from Charon, one that echoed inside her helmet. “Me? No, I’m a stab you in the front kind of gal. And I’m not going to kill you unless you try to escape. The girl you had murdered, Sasha, wasn’t in my class. I barely knew her. You think I’m so cold-hearted that I would steal the chance for revenge from her classmates? A little credit here, Crispin, we’re not all monsters like you.”