by C. B. Lee
He stares down at himself, at his green bodysuit, the one designed for him. For Chameleon. It takes less power to shift when he’s wearing it; it’ll save him precious energy later. Bold colors, for a hero. To inspire…
Bells always loved wearing the suit, but now he’s not sure what the uniform means. He pulls on the mask. Bells studies the map and then freezes and yanks off the mask.
“The suit,” he blurts. “It was made by the League. My motorcycle, too. It’s all tracked. They’ll know we’re coming.”
“That’s easily fixed.” Abby makes a twisting motion; a piece of fabric tears away from Bells’ shoulder and wire filaments snap. A chip floats in the air and then disintegrates. “I can fix your bike later.”
She twirls a strand of her hair and taps her feet. Bells tries to reconcile the Abby he knows from school—volleyball captain, all around go-getter—with the powerful meta-human determined to rescue her parents. It’s not much of a stretch. Technopathy and telekinesis. Cool.
“Hey, Abby.” Bells nudges her with his elbow. “You ever use your telekinesis when you play volleyball?”
“During a game?” Abby looks appalled. “Of course not. That’d be cheating.”
“Uh huh,” Bells says. “Never even once? Made the ball go somewhere else?”
“I mean, if I was practicing by myself…” Abby frowns.
Bells shakes his head. “Such a waste.”
Redirecting the conversation to volleyball and the chances of a championship seems to help calm Jess. She continues to enter new coordinates, but she stops fiddling with the dash and follows Abby’s and Bells’ conversation.
The fact that Jess has meta-abilities should be surprising, but, somehow, it isn’t. Jess does have a knack for being in the right place at the right time, whether it’s the shortest line for tater tots or winning Captain Orion tickets. It could be an incredibly useful power, though Bells is sure the trainers at the center would have underestimated her as they did so many others.
Jess is getting them where they need to go.
Bells drums his fingers against the window as the city gets smaller and smaller. The smooth paved road has given way to a pre-Collective roadbed, where the concrete is cracked and broken from decades of disuse. Bells bites his lip and watches the scenery; he’s never set foot onto any Unmaintained territory. He’s passed through such areas, of course, but within the safety of a car or train.
The idea of being outside in the Unmaintained lands isn’t the only thing making him nervous. Bells isn’t worried because Abby’s parents are supposedly villains. He’s always found the Mischiefs more amusing than dangerous. No, what he’s actually nervous about is the plan to get them inside the NAC building.
He’ll have to do a full shift of himself and Jess and Abby, and it has to last long enough to fool who-knows-how-many guards. He’s been shifting his own shape all day since he forgot to do laundry and didn’t have any clean binders. He doesn’t have a whole lot of power left, and he has no time to take a nap right now.
Somehow, he shifts all three of them into NAC officials, and they make their way inside the compound. Once inside, he lets their disguises go. He doesn’t have much power left. He needs to save his energy for whatever comes next. The building creaks ominously.
We shouldn’t be here.
The exposed pipes in the ceilings and the peeling paint of the walls and the flickering lights in the hallways remind him of the season four finale of The Gentleman Detective right before Jeremiah Wells is attacked by vengeful ghosts. Bells keeps looking over his shoulder and he tries not to jump at every noise.
No one should be here.
Without hesitation, Jess leads them down corridor after corridor, deeper and deeper into the labyrinth. At least she knows where she’s going.
They encounter Powerstorm—Jess’ older sister Claudia. Bells is still getting used to that. Whatever admiration he had for her as a hero quickly evaporates as he watches her belittle Abby and Jess. She seems to be firmly behind whatever Orion is up to.
With Abby’s quick thinking, they get away from Claudia, and Jess leads them to Genevieve, Abby’s mom. She looks exhausted as they release her from her tantalum cuffs.
Bells keeps an eye on the hallway as Abby and her mom have a tearful reunion. They’re lucky they found her without running into any of the guards, but their luck doesn’t hold. There’s no sign of Master Mischief, and no time to look for him because Claudia catches up with them again. She’s armed with something Bells didn’t think could exist—a serum she injects into Abby, rendering her powers null. Then she starts for Bells—
Bells has training. He knows how to do this; he can fight back, but he can’t move. He’s holding a metal bar. All he has to do is knock the syringe out of Claudia’s hands, but the bar is slipping from his hands. Pull it together. I’ve lifted ten times this bar’s weight, why can’t I…?
Claudia walks toward him holding a needle aloft like a weapon; a bead of liquid drips from it, and Bells can’t, he can’t move, can’t think.
“You don’t want to let go of your precious powers, now do you, Chameleon?” Claudia taunts, stepping into a fighting stance.
He needs to get his body into ready position; he can see Claudia’s about to launch the classic Attack Formation 14-A, and he knows which blocking move to counter it, but he can’t get his body to respond.
He looks at the serum and is frozen with fear at the possibility of losing his powers, of being useless in a fight, useless to everyone—
Jess steps in with more confidence than Bells has ever seen and she goads Claudia into ranting until a pipe falls from the ceiling and knocks her out.
The escape plan changes now that the compound is on high alert. Bells has only enough power left to shift himself and one more person, so they split up. Mistress Mischief and Bells will try to send a message from the compound’s computer room. Jess and Abby will try to escape without disguises.
“Come on; we’ve got to go!” Bells starts down the hall in a run. He doesn’t hear steps, so he looks back.
Mistress Mischief—Genevieve Monroe, isn’t that a trip—is staring at the other end of the hallway.
“They’re going to be okay,” Bells says.
“How do you know?” Genevieve’s voice is haggard.
Bells doesn’t know for sure, but he does believe in Jess’ stubborn determination. And Abby is resourceful.
Jess said this path was the easiest one, clear of guards, but how long would it remain the safest route? What if they run into Captain Orion or any of the guards?
Bells’ powers aren’t well-suited for an actual fight. He held his own in training, but despite the showy punches and kicks and the many sparring matches, no one was ever armed. League guards will have shockers and tasers and maybe even guns, and Bells has no idea how to handle that. Once, during training, he asked about weapons, but Harris just told him not to worry about that, and Crabb said he should run away and let someone else handle it.
Bells wills his hands to stop shaking. He can’t let Abby’s mom see how terrified he is. She’s been experimented on for so long; if Bells is scared, she’s probably frightened beyond belief.
But Genevieve seems alert, though wary, and follows Bells down the hallways, occasionally pausing to catch her breath.
Bells’ fears about guards with weapons aren’t the only thing on his mind. He remembers Claudia brandishing that serum and shudders. If that does what she says it does, takes away people’s powers, he doesn’t want to run into anyone carrying that serum.
Bells said Jess and Abby would be fine, but he doesn’t know. Genevieve’s weary “How do you know?” echoes in his head. How would Emma answer? She always knows how to make people feel better…
He pulls off his mask and regards Genevieve eye-to-eye. “They’ll be fine. Come on, Mistress Mischief, we gotta get to tha
t mainframe and then get out of here. I’ve only got enough charge for one disguise for both of us, and you’re all tapped out—”
“No, not tapped out.” She pulls herself together and stands up a little taller. “I’ve been under prolonged exposure to tantalum, and it’s is hard on my powers, but they’re not gone. I can still… Just need to rest.” She sags against the wall.
“All right, take a minute.” Bells walks ahead and pokes his head around the corner.
The hallway is, indeed, empty of guards and other personnel. Instead of exposed pipes and half-crumbling walls, it’s finished with dull gray tiles. They’re covered in a thick layer of dust, but Bells is still on high alert. Even if this area isn’t used much, it might be under surveillance. He spots the gleam of a camera and curses.
Bells yanks his mask back on. It only covers the top half of his face. If he was shifted as Barry, it would be a complete disguise, but for now it’ll have to do. INCOMING CALL FROM LOWELL KINGSTON flashes across his eyes.
“I see you’ve gone above and beyond and helped us locate a missing asset.” Kingston’s smile is cold and calculating in the mask’s live feed.
“Asset?” Bells repeats, incredulous. “You guys were torturing her!”
“Some jobs are more glamorous than others,” Kingston says, steepling his fingers. “Harris informs me that your suit’s tracker is not functioning. The last known location we have for you is leaving Andover, and now I see you’re in a League facility. You must have sustained damage to your suit while fighting several criminals trying to commandeer our assets.”
“What…” What is he playing at?
“Son, I remind you that you are an asset, a valuable one who’s always done as he’s told.” Kingston levels an icy smile at him. “I know things might be a bit confusing, and people might present an alternative interpretation of what the League is doing, but I assure you, this is for the good of everyone.”
A chill runs down Bells’ spine. He can’t believe it goes this far—not only Orion and the League being corrupt, but one of the central figures in the Collective government saying that torturing people is good?
“It’s quite simple, son. Return the asset, and I guarantee you, your heroic actions today will go down in history.”
Bells bristles; he used to find it amusing when Kingston called him son, as if the old man was trying to be grandfatherly. In his speeches, too, he referred to the citizens of the Collective as his children. Bells can see now; it’s just another way for Kingston to manipulate people, to use feelings of affection for his own purposes. “I joined the League because I thought we were helping people. And now I see the League is lying to them.”
“Well then, things are going to become very, very difficult for you soon, Barry.”
The line goes dead.
“Whatever,” Bells mutters, and he makes a rude gesture at the nearest camera. He ducks into the hallway where Genevieve is now standing up.
“Feeling better?”
Genevieve nods and, to his relief, she starts walking at a brisk pace and then falls into a run behind Bells as they navigate the labyrinth of hallways. Lights flicker to life as they run past. Motion sensors. These hallways are definitely not abandoned.
They turn a corner, and Bells spots movement at the end of the hallway: someone walking past.
Bells pulls Genevieve into an alcove and waits until the footsteps fade.
“Come on.”
They race down the hallways until Bells spots a sign projected on the wall. “Please don’t be locked,” he mutters.
“It wouldn’t be,” Genevieve says. “The guards here are too lazy.”
He flicks at the projection and exhales when it responds to his touch. Bells scrolls past schedules and notes from guards and finally finds a map. He studies the layout and notes the flickering “You Are Here” label and a handy guide to the bathrooms. Guess the employees have difficulty navigating the place.
Bells locates the main entrance where they came in; that’s the exit they want. However, to access the mainframe computer room, they’ll have to take a little detour.
Abby’s DED has been a solid weight in his pocket reminding Bells of their task; he takes it out now so it’s ready to go, dangling from his wrist strap as they enter the mainframe room.
Ominous machines line the walls. They are barely visible in the dark, aside from their flickering lights. They don’t look like anything Bells has seen. These machines are bygones from another century when computers stored information.
He hopes they can transmit information too.
Bells runs his hand along one smooth surface. It’s warm to the touch and hums. He doesn’t see anything resembling a port into which they can plug Abby’s DED.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bells says.
“I know how to contact my husband from any console.” Genevieve scans the computers, selects a drawer, and presses a button; a small keyboard and display projects into the air.
A series of codes, unlike any Bells has seen, appears, and Genevieve types a long string of numbers and characters.
“What is that?”
“Basic command line interface,” Genevieve says. “Are you interested in coding?”
“No,” Bells answers honestly. “How long is this gonna take?”
“Almost done.” Genevieve types fervently and the line of code disappears. “Just sent a message to my husband on his private line. If he is able to access it, he’ll see it. None of the NAC can break into it.”
“Good. Now can you upload this file to the Net for nationwide broadcast?”
Genevieve frowns. “At the level you need for this to be effective, it’d be a task for him. Here, log into my ID on your DED, and we’ll be able to see any messages from him.”
Bells lets her tinker with the DED; he can hear shuffling outside and pokes his head out to check. Sure enough, guards are walking down the hallway. He takes a deep breath. “Okay, time for the disguise. We need to be touching for it to work. Arm around your shoulder, okay?”
Genevieve nods.
Bells finds the clean lines of the guard uniform easily and barely changes the details of Genevieve’s face. He lifts her brow, gives her a square jaw, and turns the vivid red of her hair into blonde. It won’t take much energy to hold these small changes. He makes himself taller, ages his features, and adds a bushy beard.
“How incredibly useful,” Genevieve says, nodding in approval at their likenesses in the reflection from a computer panel.
He and Genevieve walk down the hallway, out of the building, and then out the front gate. Bells feels Genevieve relax and he nudges her. “Keep walking and stay casual,” he mutters. “They’re not looking at us, but if we start running they definitely will find it suspicious.”
They walk into the parking lot until he can feel his power fading fast. He drops the face and body disguises, but keeps the clothing shifted; he can’t let their guard uniforms disappear.
“Come on, we’re almost out of here. We just need to get in a car, and I can drop…” Bells trails off.
Jess gave him an escape route, and they’ve made it out, but how do they get home?
Genevieve turns to him with a hopeful smile. “You can shift inanimate objects, right?”
“Yeah, clothes—”
“Ever try anything else?”
Every time he’s tried shifting inanimate objects, it’s utterly depleted him. He’s at the end of his power range and changing something unattached to a person would be challenging even if he was at full strength.
Bells is exhausted, and the desert sun is relentless. He can shift a locking mechanism, surely. He puts his hands on the closest car door, a modest sedan.
“No, no, we won’t be able to activate these cars. An unauthorized DED turning it on will automatically alert the owner. What we need
is a manual-driving car. Someone has to have one.”
And indeed, someone does: a flashy red convertible with a steering wheel. Bells gestures toward the car. “Can you drive? Because I can’t.”
Genevieve nods. “Yeah, just unlock it.”
He touches the car door and concentrates. Why didn’t I think of this before? It could be so useful. Could I shift food, and, if I could, would it taste right?
Genevieve opens the door, and they climb in. Soon the car is trundling down the desert road toward the shining silhouette of Andover beyond the canyons.
Ch. 5...
Genevieve Monroe is an avid storyteller and keeps Bells from falling asleep on the drive back. Bells asks questions, and she tells him all about the history of the Meta-Human Training program, how she was marked for the villain track as soon as she started dating Phillip—Master Mischief.
He’s spent a lot of energy today. Bells has never known how it feels to be tapped out completely, but he’s exhausted all his strength. “This has enough electric charge to get us back to Andover,” Genevieve says. “Thank you so much—you and Jess and Abby. You saved me.”
“Thank me when we get safe.” Bells says, drumming his fingers on the windowsill. “It’s not over yet.”
“Well, I’m thanking you now,” Genevieve says gently. “You’re an incredibly strong and talented young man. Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’ve never met another meta-human who could have done what you did today. You’re stronger than you think are; I hope you know that.” Through the fog of exhaustion, a glimmer of pride courses through him. He knows he’s capable of many things, but on a day like today, that means a lot. “Thanks.”
They turn on the radio and listen to jaunty pop tunes until an emergency announcement cuts in.
“This just in!” Wilton Lysander’s face appears on the car’s dashboard display. Lysander is the over-the-top host of news segments about heroes. His usual chirpy demeanor is replaced by a grim smile. The first few notes of his theme play, but, instead of the vibrant fanfare that introduces his interviews and features, these notes are ominous.
