The Kid Sensation Series Box Set

by Kevin Hardman

  She stared at me for a second, seeming to look at me, through me, and around me all at once.

  “It’s a bright, pulsing light, shifting through a wild kaleidoscope of colors. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen another like it.”

  “I thought they were all different anyway, like fingerprints, and that’s how you used them to identify people.”

  She gave me a patient, understanding smile that made me feel like I was a kid failing to grasp a basic concept in school.

  “I probably didn’t explain myself very well,” she said. “Most auras only reflect one or two colors, and will shift through various shades of them, with the intensity of their light staying the same.”

  “But if they change shades, how are you still able to identify one as belonging to a particular person?”

  “Some of the underlying features always stay the same, so I can still associate a certain aura with a specific person. It’s similar to the way you might be able to identify a woman, even if she changes the color of her lipstick, eye shadow, or blush.”

  “I think I understand,” I said. “But my aura is different, you say?”

  “Yes. Yours, as I mentioned, oscillates with diverse coloration.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “I don’t know. It’s something outside my experience, so it never even occurred to me that someone could have such an aura.”

  “So, I’m unique?” I asked, smirking.

  “Apparently so. I guess that’s why you’re known as Kid Sensation.”

  Normally, I don’t pay attention when people call me that. It wasn’t a name I personally picked; it’s a tag the media slapped on me because of my power set. When this girl said it, though, it was like I was hearing it for the first time – and I discovered that I really, really liked it.

  “And what do they call you?” I asked.

  She looked mildly surprised for a second, but then recovered. “I’m sorry. I never introduced myself, did I? They call me Atalanta.”

  I burst out laughing.

  “Now that,” I said, chuckling, “is a very fitting name.”

  “So, you know the story,” she said.

  “Of course. Legendary female warrior, unable to be bested by any man.”

  She smiled, seemingly pleased that I knew the origin of her namesake.

  “After today’s triathlon,” I continued, “I don’t think anyone would argue that it doesn’t suit you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What team are you with, by the way?”

  “The Argonauts.”

  I raised an eyebrow at that. Argo was a small, isolated island nation that seldom dealt with the outside world. One of the few interactions that it had with other nations concerned petroleum production. Argo’s territorial waters were apparently rich in oil and gas (not to mention a few other minerals), and the country – as a whole – was extremely wealthy.

  When the extent of Argo’s oil and gas reserves had first come to light three decades earlier, an aggressive world power had sent a fleet to essentially conquer the island. That’s when everyone first learned that Argo had its own team of supers, and they were both powerful and formidable.

  There were only three of them – two men and a woman – but they had no trouble beating back the aggressor, which lost a score of battleships, aircraft carriers, and other vessels. No one had dared try to invade Argo since.

  “I didn’t realize that the Argonauts cared for this kind of competition. The exhibition, that is.”

  She shrugged. “It’s good for us to get out and see the world.” She then gave me a very serious stare. “And for the world to see us.”

  I understood without her having to say anything else. Atalanta’s presence and participation here was for more than just charity. Her dominance at the triathlon was meant to show the world that Argo was still protected by powerful supers, with more coming up through the ranks.

  “So,” I said, trying to keep the conversation going, “how many super teens do the Argonauts have?”

  That one got me another blatantly hard stare, although Atalanta said nothing. I should have realized that that kind of information would be confidential. As an awkward silence started to build, I racked my brains trying to come up with something else the two of us could talk about.

  “Well, is this how you normally meet guys?” I asked. “You come up to them and offer to tell them about their aura?”

  “No. No, I–” She stopped unexpectedly, eyes going wide. “I’m sorry, I almost forgot.”

  “Forgot what?” I asked.

  “Please,” she said, looking around warily. “Can we speak privately?”

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  She didn’t really reply, just rose straight up into the air. I watched her in surprise; I hadn’t even known she could fly. Around us, a few people took note of her departure, and then went back to their respective conversations. (She wasn’t the first person to take to the air tonight from the parking lot.)

  I was on the verge of flying up after her, when I realized how conspicuous that would be. I looked over towards Smokey’s car, and this time I spotted Electra. She was talking to Sarah and didn’t seem to have spotted me yet – she probably didn’t even know I was there – but the last thing I needed was for her to see me flying off with some chick she’d accused me of drooling over. I looked up at Atalanta, wrapped her in my power, and teleported us to my school.

  We appeared in the school courtyard, near an aging, rusting lamppost. Suddenly in unfamiliar surroundings, Atalanta went into a fighting stance, eyes unexpectedly glowing with silver light.

  “Whoa,” I said, hands raised defensively, while thinking she looked impossibly beautiful. “We’re all friends here. I just brought us some place where we could talk privately, like you asked.”

  My words didn’t seem to register immediately with Atalanta, who stayed visibly tense and battle-ready for a few seconds, then slowly lowered her guard.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “What you did was…unexpected.”

  “Then I’m the one who should apologize.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She appeared to reach into her back pocket and pulled out what looked like a folded piece of paper. “I believe this is for you.”

  I took the paper from her, which turned out to be a folded postcard. There was a picture of a gorgeous beach on the card, and an inscription:

  Having a great time, mostly because you aren’t here…

  It was signed with the letter R.

  I stared at it for a moment, flabbergasted, and then read it again, unsure of what to make of it. I gave Atalanta a confused frown, and she responded by shrugging in a beats-me manner. I read the postcard a third time, and then everything became amazingly clear. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Rudi!

  The card was from my friend Rudi, whom I’d previously rescued (along with her little brother, Josh) from a government installation! She was writing to let me know that she was okay, although that was pretty much a given.

  After being rescued, Rudi and her brother had gone their own way, presumably to reunite with their parents. Although only ten years old, Rudi was a powerful precognitive who could see the future in clear detail. I’d had no doubt that she and Josh would find their parents, and that Rudi’s power – which had been underdeveloped with she was first taken by the government – would keep them one step ahead of any pursuers. The postcard was a clear indication that Rudi and her clan were safe.

  “Where did you get this?” I asked Atalanta, openly curious.

  “It was very strange,” she said. “I was flying on patrol” – she gave me an odd look, evidently feeling she’d let something slip, but went on with only a slight pause – “when I came across a balloon just floating in the air. That card was tied to it, along with a sticky note addressed to me. It asked me to give the postcard to Kid Sensation. I didn’t know how important it was, so I thought it better to pass it along in private.”

  “W
ell, I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Sure you can,” she said. “You can thank me by telling me what it’s about.”

  I debated for a second. There was no way I was telling her the whole story. I may have been getting inexplicably caught up in the grip of powerful emotions around her, but I hadn’t gone crazy. Not that crazy. Not yet, anyway.

  “It’s just a postcard from a friend,” I said, trying to sound dismissive. “Getting you to deliver it was a bit of a joke.”

  Atalanta didn’t seem particularly satisfied with that answer, but it was all she was going to get. I made sure she was ready, and then teleported us back to Jackman’s.

  Chapter 21

  We reappeared back in the parking lot, essentially in the same spot where we’d been speaking before. Ostensibly, she’d fulfilled her purpose in approaching me by giving me Rudi’s postcard. However, still fascinated with her and not quite ready for us to go our separate ways, I tried making small talk – asking about her background, life on Argo, and so on – and got mostly canned responses. I was about to try a different tack when I saw Smokey approaching us.

  “There you are,” he said to me when he got close enough. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “Sorry,” I murmured. “I got caught up.”

  “So I see,” Smokey said, eyeing Atalanta. There was an odd silence for a moment, and then I quickly made introductions.

  “Of course,” Smokey said, shaking Atalanta’s hand. “You won the triathlon. You were great, by the way.”

  “Thank you,” Atalanta responded, almost shyly.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” Smokey said, “but I need to steal this guy away for a second. Do you mind?”

  “No, not at all,” Atlanta replied, at which I felt a little hurt. “I didn’t mean to hold him up.”

  “Thanks,” Smokey said as he threw an arm around my shoulder and began guiding me away. “He’s got something he needs to do.”

  I glanced back towards Atalanta, but she had already turned away and started speaking to someone else.

  “So what exactly is it that’s so important?” I asked Smokey.

  “Your girlfriend,” Smokey answered. “She sent me to get you.”

  An abrupt tide of guilt and shame washed over me, and I found myself getting defensive.

  “She could have come herself,” I said. “We were only talking.”

  “She could have, but I think she was afraid she’d come off as being in crazy-jealous-girlfriend mode.”

  I chuckled at the thought. “Why would anyone think that?”

  “Because she’s in crazy-jealous-girlfriend mode!” Smokey said adamantly. “Why do you think?”

  He stopped walking and turned, facing me.

  “Let me ask you something,” he said. “It’s none of my business, of course, but do you still like Electra?”

  “Of course,” I said, frowning. It was a stupid question.

  “Then you can’t go around ignoring her and chatting up other girls.”

  “Hey! I wasn’t chatting up anyone!”

  “Look, man, I can’t tell you what to do, but Electra’s my friend. If you’re going to break her heart, don’t do it in public like this where she’ll be completely humiliated.”

  He turned and continued walking towards his car. A moment later, I sheepishly followed.

  *****

  I spent the next hour lavishing attention on Electra and trying to be Mr. Perfect, Mr. Right, and Mr. Wonderful all rolled into one. It’s not that I felt that Smokey was right in what’d he said, but the fact that I felt guilty about even casual conversation with Atalanta meant that something was wrong. As before, though, being out of her presence seemed to make me come back to my senses.

  I still had no explanation for Atalanta’s effect on me. Was she a Siren of some sort? It was possible, but I didn’t pick up the same sort of emotional vibe from her that Sirens usually give off. It was something I’d have to give serious thought to later.

  On her part, Electra basically ignored me at first, acting as if she couldn’t see or hear me. It was a little juvenile, but I could sense that she was angry, disappointed, and greatly hurt, among other things. Eventually, though, she came around, and by midnight I was mostly forgiven – again.

  Yes, all was right in my world once more. At least for another five minutes, which is when my emergency beacon went off.

  Chapter 22

  It wasn’t really a beacon; it was actually my cell phone, but it was simultaneously vibrating, sounding a siren, and – when I pulled it from my pocket – flashing an orange light. And to be fair, it wasn’t just my phone; it was the same story with all of the teens with the Alpha League.

  Basically, we’d all been given modified phones by the League. They generally operated no differently than ordinary phones, but did have a few perks, such as being able to send confidential communications, code and decode messages, and – of course – serve as an emergency signal. Right now, we were supposed to get back to Alpha League HQ as soon as possible.

  There were about twenty of us at Jackman’s, and in less than a minute we were all huddled together in the parking lot. We had all turned off our phones’ emergency signals at that point, but the sound of the sirens was replaced with voices – some from those of us with the Alpha League, some from the other super teens, who had gathered around us. Of course, none of us knew anything at that point, but that didn’t stop the questions from coming in rapid-fire fashion.

  “Does anyone know what’s going on?”

  “How bad is it?”

  “What have you heard?”

  Electra, trying to get everyone’s attention and failing, suddenly threw up her hands, shot a bolt of electricity into the air, and shouted, “Quiet!!!”

  There was an immediate hush as everyone turned to look at her.

  “No one knows anything yet,” she said. “Our job at this point isn’t to speculate, but to hustle back to HQ on the double.”

  Electra turned to look at me. “Jim, take us there.”

  I nodded, and then asked, “Is everyone ready?”

  There were a few nods, but no votes in the negative. I saw Smokey give Sarah a quick kiss and hand her his car keys. Assuming that no one else had any pressing goodbyes, I teleported us to Alpha League HQ.

  *****

  I popped us into the main break room, an area with lots of recreational activities and games – shuffleboard, table tennis, etc. – as well as a kitchen and fully stocked pantry. It was not only big enough to accommodate everyone comfortably, but was also complete and functional (not that anyone would be in here goofing off tonight). I then teleported myself to Mouse’s lab, assuming that he was the one who’d signaled the emergency. He was waiting on me when I popped in.

  “Right on time,” Mouse said. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “Main break room,” I said.

  “Good. Take me there.”

  A second later, we were back in the break room. Mouse wasted no time.

  “Listen up! I want to get this in one take,” he said. “Forty-five minutes ago, the city came under attack. The Sycamore Building is gone.”

  “What do you mean ‘gone’?” someone asked.

  “I mean there’s a gargantuan pile of rubble where – an hour ago – a sixty-story skyscraper stood,” Mouse said.

  “Was it a bomb?” another person asked.

  “We don’t know yet,” Mouse said, giving me a knowing look. “What we do know is that about a quarter of an hour later, a whole block in the warehouse district got flattened. Finally, fifteen minutes ago, the West Shore Bridge got taken out. It’s a twisted hunk of metal lying at the bottom of the bay now.”

  “How many…how many people?” someone asked.

  “Too many,” Mouse replied. “But you can’t worry about that right now.”

  “What do you need us to do?” Smokey asked.

  “We dispatched a team when the Sycamore Building went down,” Mouse said. “
Then another to the warehouse district. Now I’m going out with a third team to the bridge.

  “Basically, these attacks have us stretched thin, and I need you guys to pick up the slack. I’m putting some of you on a tentative fourth response team, to go into action if and when necessary.”

  Mouse looked around, then started pointing and rattling off names. “Dynamo. Nightshift. Boomstick…”

  I waited patiently for Mouse to call my name, confident that I’d be one of those chosen, but he never did. Instead, he identified about seven other teens, each of whom seemed to puff up a little with pride.

  “You guys are the next group to go out,” Mouse said. “But again, only if necessary. As to everyone else, commence maneuver Tango Foxtrot as soon as I leave.”

  There were a couple of nods, as everyone seemingly acknowledged Mouse’s orders. Tango Foxtrot meant that HQ would go on high alert. In conjunction with that, everyone would commence certain pre-assigned duties: some would go on patrol, others would watch monitors, etc. Electra, as one of the current team leaders, would be in Command Central, where she would be plugged into everything that was going on.

  Having finished his briefing, Mouse turned to me. “Get me up to the copter.”

  I nodded, and a moment later we were on a helipad, which sat under a retractable dome ceiling on the roof of Alpha League HQ. Two other supers, Feral and Esper (along with BT, surprisingly), were already inside the helicopter, the blades of which were just beginning to spin in anticipation of takeoff. The ceiling was already open, so obviously they had only been waiting on Mouse, who turned and prepared to head towards the helicopter.

  “Hey,” I said, grabbing his elbow, “these attacks. It’s the same as what Alpha Prime and I came across last night.”

  “It seems like it,” Mouse said.

  “Then why didn’t you put me on the fourth response team? I’ve seen this stuff before, dealt with it. I should probably be coming with you now.”

  “Look,” Mouse said, raising his voice as the sound from the helicopter blades began to get louder, “we don’t know what’s going on here. The timing of these attacks, the number of them, the disparate locations…I need to know there’s someone here at HQ that I can trust to keep their head – and keep everyone else from losing theirs – if something goes haywire. Someone experienced in dealing with crises. That’s you.”