Hero Least Likely Series (Book 2): Van Houten Rising

by Michelinie, Jessica

  I squirm around and manage to get the phone shoved back into my pocket without turning completely over.

  I keep crawling through the shaft, my knees and elbows clanging into the metal panels beneath me. Being sneaky is not one of my strong suits. Need to work on that. I wish I had like a cool experienced mentor to show me crime-fighting skills and whip my ass into gear, give me motivational speeches, and all that. Like Dumbledore, or Mr. Miyagi, or something.

  I pass above another office but it doesn’t look like Van Houten’s. This is probably the executive row, though. I’m starting to see polished wood paneling and whiskey decanters.

  Ooh, here’s another, and from this angle above it looks like this one is far brighter than the other offices I’ve passed. Natural light is coming in from the side. I think this could be his...

  I press my ear down to the shaft. Doesn’t sound like anyone is in there. I think I would be able to hear typing or movement or something even if he was sitting quietly at his desk. Well, here goes nothing. I give the vent a good push with my palm and the magnetic energy sends the metal plate flying down into room below. There’s no response from any potential inhabitants beneath me, so I shimmy my legs up and struggle out of the shaft. Somehow, I manage to land on my feet. Glad no one saw that.

  I take a look around. Damn, this office is bigger than my bedroom. Shit, it’s probably bigger than my whole apartment. The door is shut, but I don’t know if Van Houten is in the building or what, so I need to hurry. Looks like a pretty normal office on first glance. Giant wooden desk, huge liquor cabinet, collection of vintage Star Trek VHS tapes. I guess that’s not super typical.

  I drag a hand across the desk as I move around to the back. All of the drawers are unlocked. I dig through each one, but it’s all pretty standard. Fancy pens and stuff. Honestly, though, it doesn’t look like he spends much time in here. You’d think the CEO of a major tech corporation would be, I don’t know, a little messy. Or would at least have some evidence of actual work lying around. I sit down in the plush leather chair behind the desk and take a moment to feel what being a top-dog-billionaire-successful-tech-guy is like.

  Eh. It’s whatever.

  I run my hand under the central drawer. Maybe there’s a secret button that leads to his secret lair–

  There’s a secret button. Wow. Okay, sometimes criminals and supervillains are far too predictable. And I have to say this is a pretty unsophisticated method for a supposedly brilliant tech genius.

  I jam the button a couple of times, but...

  Nothing happens. No secret door pops out of the bookcase. No weapons case filled with portable bombs comes out of the liquor cabinet. Nothing.

  Hm. Well... I might need to rethink my plan of attack. I came here looking for evidence to prove that Van Houten is the masked maniac tearing up the streets and trying to threaten me into quitting crime fighting, but I don’t really know what I’m looking for–

  Hey. The computer monitor lights up and flashes at me a few times. Whaaaat’s happening? A desktop appears on the monitor. Well, a little snooping is what I came here for after all. Is that what the button is for? It reveals a secret desktop? I sit down at Van Houten’s desk and start pouring over the many folders on the desktop. They’re just a series of folders labelled A-Z. Weird way to organize secret info. Well, I mean, alphabetization is king, but why have a bunch of folders labelled with letters from the alphabet in the first place? Whatever, he’s the genius, supposedly.

  I guess ‘A’ is as good as any place to start. I click open the folder and an endless scroll of files fills the window. Aaand they’re all gibberish titles with gibberish codes inside. This guy’s brain must work like a computer. Maybe I can copy some of these files to take with me and figure out later. I open up a few desk drawers to see if he’s got a thumb drive laying around. This is one of those things that my cool techno-suit should do, but guess that’s not until the next upgrade.

  Damn, no storage device. Ah, I guess I wouldn’t even know what to do with these files anyway. Well, just for shits and giggles I pull up the ‘M’ folder, just in case he’s got anything on a certain Metalia or Marie Carter.

  This folder is a little different. There’s the standard list of gibberish files, but also about a hundred JPEGs. My mouth goes a little dry. I’m scared to click on one, but I do it anyway. A photo pops up on the screen, taken at night. It’s a little blurry, but if I zoom in I can start to make out some figures down on a poorly lit street. There’s four of five. One is wearing a... shower-curtain for a cape. This is a photo of me, I finally recognize. It’s me talking to the fan squad a few weeks ago. Where was this photo taken from? It must have been from one of the surrounding buildings looking down. I go to the next picture. Me, again. Fighting Fireball lady. More photos of me. Me fighting the Bull. Me patrolling the streets. I think I’m going to be sick.

  He’s been watching me.

  He’s been following me, watching my every move.

  There’s even photos of me out of costume, walking down the street. On a date with Alex. Going into a bar. He must have some kind of facial recognition shit, or something. I hope, anyway. Anything to avoid the thought that he’s just been following and watching the traditional stalker-y way. God, ugh, I feel gross and icky. I don’t know how much of my life he’s seen, but... I don’t know. I don’t want to know.

  I close the ‘M’ file and poke around a little more. Any chance he’d put his secret plans under the ‘P’ folder? Seems like no.

  So, I guess if I push the secret button again, I’m assuming this desktop will go away. I slide my finger over to the button beneath his desk again and give it a tap. The desktop is suddenly replaced with an entirely new one. No alphabetized gobbledygook files. Just a pretty wallpaper with a few memes, some important looking documents and a massively over-filled iCal. No creepy photos of his enemies. Okay, I get it now. This is his secret, evil lair. It’s all right out in the open. All he has to do is press the button and it goes away. He can operate his business and his evil side project all from this nice leather chair.

  Well, I guess I’ll take a look at his public desktop just to see if there’s anything more than can elucidate my mysterious psychotic nemesis. I open up a folder titled ‘To Do’. On the top of the list is a scan of a newspaper article from 2007.

  Four Oberville High Students Expelled After Prank Gone Wrong

  This week four students have been expelled from Oberville High after a self-described “harmless prank” went too far. Fifteen-year old Tate Van Houten is pressing charges after his classmates forced him inside the trunk of a car where he proceeded to have an asthma attack. He was released from the trunk of the car mere moments after losing consciousness. Paramedics were able to revive him shortly thereafter.

  “It’s no big deal,” An unnamed classmate told reporters. “We’ve all done it before. It’s just a rite of passage.”

  Christ, I knew Van Houten was on the nerdier side of things, but... Jesus. That’s some hardcore bullying. I mean, it doesn’t justify cavorting around the city in augmented strength armor, but still... that must have really fucked with him. I don’t bother reading the rest of the article, but keep scrolling through the files. Why was this labelled under ‘To Do’?

  I find a photo in the folder of what has to be Van Houten and his twin brother. They look like they’re maybe eleven or twelve in the phone, both smiling wide toothy grins. Cute kids. Too bad one them turned out to be a psychotic asshole. Again, why labelled as ‘To Do’? And who makes a conceptual, pictorial To Do list as opposed to just writing one out? Geniuses, I guess.

  I choose the next photo down and find it’s a screenshot taken from an email about four months ago.

  From: david@arlesbanking.com

  To: tate@vanhousingind.com

  Subject: Will & Trust

  Tate,

  Hoping this message finds you well. We’re still waiting your instructions on what to do with your parents’ estate. Let me know if you’v
e made any further decisions so I can get started on the paperwork. Tends to take awhile with sums as large as these.

  Best,

  David

  Hm. So Van Houten is an orphan, too. Lucky him, his parents left him a boatload of money. I wonder if that’s how he started his little corporation. I wish my–

  The door handle jiggles. Fuck. There’s voices close to the door, someone’s coming in and I gotta get out! I dart out of the leather chair and look around for a potential exit. I could come in the way I came but that might take too long. Can’t go out of the front. Guess my only option is the back. Shit shit shit–

  I turn around and push open the window behind the desk. I’m on the fourth floor so pretty high up, but not the highest I’ve gone. I think Menzoni’s apartment building in Tribeca was at least thirteen stories. I clamor out the window and hold my palms out to get the buzz going. There’s a ledge just beneath the window about five feet. I lower myself to there for a moment, just to make a plan. Should I make the jump and risk everyone on the streets seeing me, out of costume, using my powers? There’s no fire escape cause this building is so shiny and new, so that might be my only option. Damn.

  Wait. I hear the voice get louder as the office door opens. The top of my head is just a few inches below the window. Maybe I can stand here and listen...

  “...voice memo #445...prototype thirteen is in working condition and ready for a test run. I’m... upset over the lack of progress in my research. The helmets’ cerebral implants aren’t properly functioning as they should.”

  Whoa. Control the wearer’s motor functions? Holy shit. Does that mean...?

  “The readings are good, but there’s something missing in the data transmission. I’ll need to re-familiarize myself with the schematics and do a few more tests before R&D can make approvals... In other news, I need to make a decision about the estate. I have no use for it. I know Michael would appreciate it, but I worry for his... focus, at the moment. Perhaps in a few more years...” He trails away.

  Fuck. He’s making these suits so he can control whoever wears them. He... He just wants control. Is this about the incident in high school when he was bullied? Is this just some giant revenge fantasy?

  Once I’m sure he’s finished speaking, I nose dive towards the ground, my hands out in front of me, slowing my fall until I can land with both feet on the ground. This side of the street is fairly deserted and I dart around the corner to avoid anyone seeing me once I land. Luckily, it’s New York, and most people aren’t paying attention to anyone they pass on the street.

  I can’t really run in these fashionable yet sensible heels I grabbed before hitting up Van Houten Industries, but I move as fast I can to get to the subway. After a completely unnecessary thirty-minute delay, I’m jamming the elevator button in the lobby of my building. For a single moment I’m tempted to rip these hellish shoes off and go up the stairs, but then I remember the number one rule of living in New York City: never EVER go barefoot.

  I push open my apartment door and am overjoyed to see Shia at the kitchen table bent over a few swatches of fabric and eating leftover pizza.

  “Shia!” I swing my backpack off my shoulder and throw it on to the touch. “Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Well, I’m so glad you’re here, bud. What’s the what? And by that I mean what’s up with your whole Alpha Zeta Theta look?”

  “Yeah, long story. You know how you all are always on my case about my utter totally lack of sneakiness? Well, today I upgraded. I got inside of Van Houten’s office! His ACTUAL office! And I found out some pretty crazy stuff–”

  “Wait, you... you did Metalia stuff today?”

  “I just kind of went on a whim and wanted to check out the building, and–”

  “Marie, why didn’t you tell me or Alex? We’re a team, I thought we were doing this stuff together. Not going off on our own. Especially after what Van Houten did to you.”

  I’m a little taken aback by Shia’s sudden tonal shift. She seems really serious all of the sudden, which is fairly uncommon for my usually chipper friend. “Well... I–I just...that’s not really important, because I got info–”

  “No, actually it is important. Marie, you’re cutting us off.”

  “No, I’m-I’m not–”

  “Yes, you are. You’re cutting us off so you don’t have to worry about us. You think if you just leave me and Alex out of all of this then you won’t have to worry about us getting hurt. But honestly, I don’t think you realize that you won’t survive without help. Van Houten is not something you can take on your own.”

  I feel a little dumbstruck, at a loss for words. Really? “Um, well, I... I disagree... I...” Shia is right about cutting her and Alex off. That’s kind of exactly what I’m doing. But there’s more important things going on than our team dynamics!

  “I can’t believe you did that. What if he caught you?”

  “He didn’t! And–I’m just... I’m just going to change.” I escape this sudden and unexpectedly awkward conversation. I retreat into my bedroom and begin peeling off these uncomfortably colorful layers. Shia’s words really stung, but I have a feeling that’s because they’re true. I think I can handle Van Houten on my own. I’d rather it be that way so no one else has to risk their lives. But... what if she’s right? What if I can’t beat him?

  I’m searching through my closet for something else to wear when I come across my Metalia suit hanging in the back. It feels like it’s been forever since I last wore it, even though it’s definitely been just a matter of days. I guess if I’m being honest with myself, I never had the intention of quitting. A break was nice, but if anything, it was to get Shia and Alex out of the way, to sever them from the possibility of getting hurt in what should be just my line of work.

  I pull the outfit off the hanger, holding it close and running my thumbs over the textured material. I miss it. Without really knowing why, I start to put it on. I pull on a pair of baggy jeans, a black t-shirt, and my leather jacket on top and stuff my mask into my backpack.

  I know I’m not active anymore, but it just feels good to have the outfit close to me, to remind me of what I was.

  I really don’t want to argue with Shia anymore, so I take the coward’s way out and crawl out my bedroom window so I don’t have to face her again. Was going to Van Houten’s office on my own really that stupid? I don’t think so. I mean, look at everything I found out! I get where she’s coming from, I do, but... Maybe I’ve been kind of an asshole about this whole thing.

  Taking the usual route, I swing down to a twenty-foot light post near my fire escape, jump up to the adjacent fire escape, and climb up to the top of my neighboring building’s roof. It’s been a minute since I’ve used my powers at all. Feels good. Really good. I should be cautious though. Don’t know how Van Houten has been surveilling me. Cameras? Stalkers? Measuring increases in electromagnetic energies in the area? Yeeesh.

  I stay low and slow as I head along the rooftop lengths. Based on Shia’s reaction, I don’t know how stoked Alex is going to be that I went off on my own. But damn was it useful! I mean, sort of. I at least know now what Van Houten is planning to do with all that future-tech armor, as well as a few nuggets about his past that I didn’t necessarily need to know. Cerebral implants. He’s going to try and create his own personal army he can control with his tech, but I’ve got a heads up which means I have a slight advantage.

  Whoa. The ground, or roof rather, is suddenly shaking beneath my feet. I’ve never been in an earthquake, but I imagine it’s something like this. I whirl around on the rooftop. Is it happening everywhere? What’s going on? Oh. That’s what’s going on.

  I spot the massive wave of fire behind me towards the Manhattan Bridge before I hear it. That must have been an explosion rocking the block and sending tremors all the way over here. What the fuck was that? I look down at myself, my civilian clothes, and I’m suddenly drenched with... guilt, I guess. I can’t stand around and do nothing.
I can’t be a bystander while something hurts the people of my city. I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to react.

  I pull off my hoodie, stuff it into my backpack, and pull the hood of my costume up to my head. I grab the mask from my bag and for the first time in days slip it over my head. I’ll come back for the backpack later. I sprint down the length of the rooftop, vaulting between the buildings, pushing myself as hard as I can, going faster than I’ve ever forced myself to go before. Van Houten cannot stamp out Metalia.

  The smoke is rising in the air in huge thick plumes. Looks like a building fire, but that sound must mean a bomb or something was let off. What is up with assholes and bombs? I kick it into high gear, using my powers to vault me further and further. Finally, the fire is just a block away. I land heavily on a perch on the top of corner of the roof of a food hall and take a survey of the area.

  I was right. The fire is coming from an industrial building on the corner. Luckily, it looks like it may have been abandoned. So what the hell was that then? Teenagers messing with a mini-nuke or something?

  A few people are coming out the building... three people in... black, sleek armor. Is that–? Yep. Fireball, or whatever her name is, The Bull, and Van Houten himself. Damn, that was fast. He must have left the office right after I did to get all the way down here so quick... None of them are wearing their helmets for some reason. I scan the area again. Fireball is laughing wildly as she wanders over to a black town car parked across the street from the burning building. She opens up the backdoor and pulls out her helmet. Here’s my chance.