Not Your Villain

by C. B. Lee

  Jess frowns. “But you told me that Stone knows…”

  Emma lifts both her eyebrows. “Okay, might I remind you that the rest of us don’t automatically know everything that happens in Jess-and-Abby land and we don’t need to know everything, but can you fill us in on how Abby can get these plans?”

  Jess and Abby share a glance, and Jess giggles.

  Bells snorts. “Now you’ve got them thinking about each other, Em, great job.” He snaps his fingers. “Welcome back to reality where the rest of us live.”

  “Right, right, Jess knows all this, but I technically… don’t exist. I mean, on paper I do, as Abby Jones, yeah, who exists just about as much as Barry Carmichael exists, right?” Abby points and grins at Bells.

  “Okay, you’ve got a secret identity, but we all knew that, Miss I-Don’t-Want-To-Pick-A-Hero-Name-Yet,” Bells teases.

  Abby’s face falls, and Bells instantly regrets his teasing. He guesses her reluctance to pick a name is mostly because her powers are gone.

  She shrugs, deftly changing the subject. “I mean, the League knows that my mom and dad had a kid; they’ve known since I was born that I exist, but that’s all they know. They don’t know my name or what I look like.” Abby shrugs. “My parents wanted to hold all the cards for my future as a hero, you know.”

  “Okay, but what’s stopping you from walking into Monroe Industries, other than your promise to your mom—” Emma starts off, scrunching her nose.

  “How would she even know since she’s gone?” Bells says, rolling his eyes. He’s still frustrated that the adults just up and left to look for Abby’s dad without even asking their kids for help.

  “Because Stone knows,” Jess says.

  “Yeah, he was over for dinner once. My dad and he were pretty good friends until their differences about the purposes of the MonRobots,” Abby says sadly.

  Emma’s mouth falls open and she gestures wildly. “Who? Is? Stone?”

  “He’s on the board of directors at Monroe Industries,” Jess says. “Definitely in favor of militarizing the MonRobots when Phillip Monroe didn’t want to.” She looks at Abby, who doesn’t say anything but squeezes Jess’ hand. “He was the guy standing behind Abby’s dad during the speech.”

  “Okay. So you can get into Monroe Industries as long as Stone doesn’t see you…” Bells says, thinking out loud. “Any other employees who could be a problem?”

  “I pretty much worked on my own or with Jess, and Stone would check in with me from time to time to see Master Mischief’s progress,” Abby says. “I don’t think anyone else would have noticed that I’ve been gone for the last few months…” She scrunches up her face, clearly searching her memory for other employees who might have noticed her absence.

  “So that’s easy,” Bells says. “You get in, get out, and, if you see Stone, run the other way.”

  “Not so fast,” Brendan interrupts. “I need Abby here because she’s the only one of you who can code. I’m going to need her help writing the next program, and there are all these logs that need to be sorted manually…” Brendan gestures at the stacks of paper all over the table.

  Bells stands up and squares his shoulders. “This looks like a job for Chameleon,” he says, winking at them while giving them his best heroic pose. Everyone laughs, but Emma’s eyes widen and she gives him an appreciative look, which fills Bells with confidence.

  * * *

  Monroe Industries is one of the tallest buildings downtown; it gleams silver against the skyline. As Abby, Bells walks right through the front doors, past the desk bots that scan his card and his face at the entrance.

  “Welcome, Miss Jones,” the reception bot says evenly.

  Bells tips his head at them; Abby’s red curls fall into his face. He walks quickly and finds the elevator as Abby instructed. She said her main computer in her old lab should have access to everything. Abby’s keycard beeps, granting him access to Abby’s locked lab floor. Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust. He relaxes back into his own form and looks around. Machines hum behind the second door on the right exactly as Abby said, and beyond that is a messy office with a computer tower that has multiple dataports. The projector is still on, showing a desktop background with a close-up photo of a mecha-suit.

  Bells hums, tossing a datachip into the air and catching it playfully, happy to be doing something, anything, to get away from being a fifth wheel; happy to be doing something that resembles hero work.

  He plugs the datachip into the console. Abby’s automatic program scans for the plans. Bells watches the lines of code flicker on the display, and then the program closes. He plucks out the datachip and places it in his pocket. He was hoping for a little action, this was too easy. Maybe he can find some clues about Master Mischief’s whereabouts.

  Bells pokes around the lab, but it’s so disorganized, he has no idea where to start. The only area that seems in order is a cabinet full of files that contain the history of all the Mischiefs’ exploits, stolen artifacts, successful pranks, and the like.

  Bells throws up his hands and turns around. A map on the wall shows the research department, production floor, various offices… Ah, so that’s where Stone’s office is.

  He shifts back into Abby’s form, gets in the elevator, and presses the button for the seventeenth floor. On the map it looked as though Stone’s office was at the end of this hallway. Two people walk past him, but no one gives him a second glance. A cold chill rushes through him when he reaches the last office. Abby said to get in and get the files and get out, but surely seeing what Stone is up to is worth just an extra moment.

  Voices ring out against the background of people working, and, through the glass wall of Stone’s office, Bells can see the man standing, arms crossed, in front of his desk. He looks exactly like his photo on the company’s holopage: tired and balding and scowling.

  Two people are in his office. One wears a long coat, sunglasses, and large-brimmed hat. It would be comical, how obvious this disguise is, except Bells’ instincts are telling him danger. The stance, the way their hands on their hips are just so… it’s a very distinct pose, but Bells can’t recall where he’s seen it. It’s one of those times when, if Bells had more than a second to think, he’d figure out who’s wearing the disguise. The woman in the crisp button-up suit seems really familiar. If she wasn’t also wearing sunglasses, Bells could definitely place her.

  Stone’s voice is firm. “Look, Cindy, it’s a powerful proposition, but I can’t help you. Without the support of the League I’m afraid…” he trails off and catches a glimpse of Bells in the hallway, and his eyes widen. “Abby Jones? But I thought we…” Stone brings his DED to his face and speaks into it. “Security needed on floor seventeen. I thought we had this asset locked down already for levera—”

  “I’m not done with you,” the overly disguised person grabs Stone’s shoulder and turns him around. Her hand curls in a gesture Bells has seen immortalized in comic books—Cindy is Captain Orion. She’s about to fry Stone with her lightning.

  Heart pounding, Bells’ sets his DED to record and dashes forward, ready to pull Stone out of the way. But, when Orion flexes her wrist, nothing happens.

  Stone laughs. “You really think you scare me?”

  There’s no lightning, despite Orion’s gesture, and she scowls.

  “You don’t think I’ve got a personal cache of tantalum ready in case any meta-human tries to—”

  The second woman gasps, and stares right at Bells as he crosses the doorway.

  Bells looks down and realizes that he’s himself again. There’s a painful blow to the back of his head, and everything goes dark.

  Ch. 11...

  Bells wakes up with a headache. Turning over to get a few more minutes sleep before he has to get to class, he finds nothing but a cold, hard surface: no blankets, no pillows, no sheets.

  His eyes s
nap open. He’s lying on the floor of a dingy room. It smells of damp wood and mold. The paint on the walls has peeled in places, and one of the walls is not a wall at all; it’s a row of iron bars looking out into—what is this, a warehouse?

  Bells sits up, willing himself not to panic. The last thing he remembers is sneaking into Monroe Industries and then… Captain Orion.

  Now… he’s here. He reaches for his DED but it’s gone from his wrist. A chill runs down his spine. What’s the point of stealing my DED? Without his access code the device is nothing but a useless hunk of metal and plastic.

  Bells gets to his feet and begins to pace. In the corner of the room, a small camera watches him like an eye, swiveling to follow his movements.

  How long was he asleep? Bells tries to get his bearings, but the warehouse could be anywhere. Where did she take him?

  He shivers from the cold, and a flurry of snow blows through an open window on the other side of the warehouse. I’m definitely not in Nevada. Where the hell am I?

  Footsteps. Bells stands close to the bars and notices a handle on the other side. He could shift, but he has no idea what form would give him an advantage. He needs to save his strength. The only advantage he has right now is his wit, and he’s got to play it cool. He can’t let them know how terrified he is.

  On the other side of the bars, someone appears. It takes Bells a minute to recognize her. Her face is gaunt and hollow; her jaw is set in grim determination.

  “Claudia,” Bells says, feigning calm. “Fancy meeting you here. How can I help you?”

  “You? Help me?”

  “Well, yes, I mean, it’s a strange place we seem to have found ourselves in, this abandoned warehouse. Andover doesn’t get much snow, so I’m guessing we’re in one of the Northern regions.” He leans casually against the wall and points at her with exaggerated cheer. “Seeing as you’re on that side and I’m on this side, would you please lift that handle so we can get out of here?”

  Claudia looks so different from the girl in the holos at the Trans’ house. She has bags under her eyes, and her hair is a mess of fading dirty-blonde streaks revealing black roots.

  “Okay, then, how can I help you?” Bells says, as if she’s a customer at the restaurant, and he’s taking her order.

  Claudia pulls her fluffy down coat tighter around her body. Her eyes are narrowed. “You are the strangest person I’ve ever met. You’re a prisoner here. You must know that.”

  Bells shrugs. He is worried, but there’s no point in giving her the upper hand by letting her know how he really feels.

  Claudia glances at the camera above her head, steps forward, and pulls something out of her pocket. It’s a small metal tin that rattles as she pops open the lid. She takes out something small and green, then thrusts her hand through the bars. “Here.”

  “What is it?” Bells’ cheerful mask slips. Is it poison? If she wanted to hurt me, she would have done so already, right?

  Claudia rolls her eyes. “It’s just a mint. Here, watch.” She pops the green pill into her mouth and bites down on it, chews, and opens her mouth for Bells to see the pieces dissolving on her tongue. She takes out another one and offers it to Bells. “You’ve gotta take it. She’s gotta see you swallow it.” Watching Bells’ every move, she jerks her head toward the camera.

  Bells takes the supposed mint and sniffs it warily. It does smell strongly of peppermint, and the green with little flecks of white does look exactly like the mints that Emma buys. There’s even a little EverSparkle logo inscribed on it.

  “You can spit it out if you want to,” Claudia says crossly. “Do it out of sight of the camera. There’s a blind spot here.” She gestures at where she’s standing, just under the camera. “It’s just a mint, I swear.”

  He’s got nothing to lose. Bells pops it into his mouth, tucks it under his tongue, and glances at the camera. He can spit it out later. What’s Claudia up to?

  Claudia exhales a visible sigh of relief.

  The mint dissolves in his mouth, crackling with icy cold sweetness.

  Oh.

  “Thanks for the minty fresh pick-me-up,” Bells says nonchalantly, raising his eyebrows. “Is it because you can’t afford toothbrushes for your prisoners?”

  Claudia stiffens. “Just— look, it’s for your own good. Play along with what she says, okay? She thinks it’s a—”

  Footsteps echo from a short distance away, accompanied by a heavy rattling of something being rolled.

  “Get anything useful out of the prisoner, Claudia?”

  “No, Captain,” Claudia says, slinking back.

  Captain Orion walks into view, dragging a machine on a cart behind her. “I don’t like that smirk he’s giving you. Shame we couldn’t get the audio on that feed to work. Step aside, let me get a look at him.”

  Bells has only seen Orion in holovids and during that one, frenzied encounter at Abby’s house. It’s startling how different she looks now from the shiny, polished hero who graced comic book covers. Her hair is tied in a messy ponytail; her bangs fall limp across her forehead. She’s wearing her usual blue-and-white supersuit, but Bells has never seen it this dirty or in such a state of disrepair; there’s a patch ripped in the leggings, and her knee is poking out. Orion’s cape trails behind her; the edge is frayed and riddled with dirt. The cart she dragged in rolls onto it, causing her to stumble. Orion yanks her cape free of the cart, straightens up, and glares at Bells, as if she’s daring him to laugh.

  Bells recognizes the machinery sitting on the cart; it’s one they used at the training center to measure the power levels of meta-humans.

  He remembers the last time he was tested. All the other students had taken care not to use their powers all day so they could get an “at rest” rating and be sure that the League could see their full potential. He kept his Barry shift on all day, so that by the time he was measured, he’d be so tired out he’d get a low rating.

  What does Orion want with me?

  The former hero looks down her nose at Bells. “Well. The famous, talented Chameleon. The League was all about you. The next me, perhaps. Or maybe that was just what they were filling your head with. Did they promise you glory? Greatness?”

  “Free lunch,” Bells says. “And travel. To the training center for three summers. Got to see a lot of places. I liked Baja, but the last one was pretty cool. The North is awfully pretty. Lots of trees. Huge, like giants. And last year I got to go to the beach all the time, so—win.”

  “I don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation, Barry.” Orion grins like a feral cat. “I’ve got your file right here.”

  Orion flips through the thick sheaf of papers. Bells takes a deep breath when he spots the word Broussard, followed by a photo of the restaurant and even a picture of him and Simon as kids. The file must have been important for Orion to print them on actual paper. Or maybe Orion can’t connect to the Net anymore.

  How long has she been on the lam? What was she proposing to Stone? The League obviously doesn’t know where she is, since they still claimed she was in Corrections.

  Even if she doesn’t have the League behind her, she’s still dangerous, especially if she knows who he really is.

  “So you’ve got a file. Big whoop. You don’t know me.”

  Orion laughs. “On the contrary. I know you can’t escape from this cell. You need superstrength to get out, and all you can do is change your appearance. Big. Whoop.”

  She throws his words back at him with the same inflection, adding a smug smile as if saying, I’ve won. Orion takes a case from the cart and opens it. Inside, nestled in foam packing, are three glass vials and a long needle.

  That must be the serum that neutralizes meta-abilities. He’s still not sure what it’s done to Abby, but it’s been five months, and she still hasn’t gotten her powers back. Abby says it’s permanent, but Jess hasn’t
given up hope.

  Orion paces. All her confidence seems to have returned to her, as if she stepped into another commercial to advertise EverSparkle teeth whitening. Despite the bedraggled uniform and the unkempt hair, she looks every bit as dangerous as she did as a hero, possibly more. As she walks, she touches her fingertips together, and a bolt of lightning sizzles.

  Bells bristles, remembering the scar that races across Jess’ chest. He forgets his casual-cool-composure and pushes his hand through the bars to grab the front of Orion’s uniform. He pulls her forward until she hits the bars, and asks in a slow whisper, “You gonna fry me, too?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Bells sees Claudia startle. A flash in her eyes as she takes a step back can only be panic. Just as quickly, she composes herself; all emotions are hidden.

  Orion snaps her fingers, which causes a bit of lightning to spark in the air. “Nothing so drastic. I wouldn’t waste the energy.”

  Bells narrows his eyes and rubs the back of his throbbing head. “Why am I here?”

  Claudia crosses her arms and looks at her feet.

  “You should be thanking me, you know,” Orion says. “Stone didn’t see you turn into, well, you. Claudia spotted you crossing the tantalum threshold, and then I had the great idea to whisk you away from Stone’s security team.” She tut-tuts at him. “Wearing the face of Mischief’s daughter… Stone wouldn’t have been too pleased thinking his little bit of leverage got loose.”

  “What do you mean?” Bells scowls. He’s angry for Abby, for Jess, for every single person Orion has hurt on her little journey to get stronger.

  Orion steps closer to the bar; her heels clack on the stone floor. “Stone doesn’t know what I need Phillip for. He simply wanted to go ahead with his pet project, and, of course, once Phillip believed Stone had his darling daughter locked up, he, of course, was willing to do anything.” She shrugs. “It’s amazing what holotech can do.”