by H. L. Burke
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She started to reach for him, wanting to touch his hand, but pulled back. No, she wasn’t going to get sucked in that easily.
“I hadn’t seen him in a dozen years or spoken to him in almost that. The news sent me spiraling. The thing is, as much as I disagreed with my dad, I didn’t hate him, not really. He was stubborn and narrow-minded and wrong-headed, but I never doubted for a moment that he loved me and the rest of my family, that he made the choices he did because he thought they were best for us.” He removed his visor and fiddled with it, pretending to clean it on his shirt. “The idea that we’d never be able to reconcile, it nearly killed me. After a few weeks of depression and binge drinking, the need to understand him, to solve the mystery of who my dad was and what he believed and why he acted the way he did—it became an obsession, all-consuming.” He cleared his throat. “So in the most ironic petty crime ever, I walked into the nearest book store and shoplifted a copy of the Book of Mormon.”
Prism considered him. “So your father was LDS? I didn’t want to assume.”
“Yes, and I was, then I wasn’t, and now ... don’t get me wrong, I’m still not in line with everything, but over the last several months, reconnecting to that part of my heritage, I’ve realized how far I’ve gone from what I once believed, and maybe I don’t have to buy the whole package with the small town isolationism and the reactionary politics and all that to believe that ... that the way I’ve been living isn’t how I’m meant to live, you know?” He flushed. “The thing is, when you have a history of what some might less charitably consider terrorism—”
Prism made a wry face. She knew for a fact that some of Wildfyre’s “activism” had him on those sorts of lists.
“And you suddenly announce a religious conversion, there’s a large section of the populace that assumes you’re going to start strapping bombs to yourself, and that’s not what this is—and that’s where you come in.”
Prism started. “Me?”
“Yeah, when I researched the SVR to see if it was a good fit for me, I found some interviews you did where you mentioned faith. Was that real?” His eyes burned into her.
“Yes.” She shifted in her seat. “I’m not Mormon, though. Christian, yes, but the non-denominational variety.”
“Doesn’t matter. If you have faith in anything, you get it more than most people I’ve brought it up to. I need someone who is going to support me, the whole version of me, including the spiritual path I’m taking, who isn’t going to assume I’m a wackjob because I want to go to church on Sunday and have given up drinking along with crime. Is that you?”
Confidence spread through Prism, and she nodded. “That’s me.”
A smile spread across his face. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” She stood. “I don’t have the authority to single-handedly issue you a pardon for your past crimes. We need to work up a plea deal that specifies that the prison sentence the justice system would have been likely to give you can be commuted to you serving with the SVR for an extended period instead.” She tapped her fingers against her thigh. “Honestly, my advice is that you get a lawyer with experience in the sable community. I don’t want to make you promises then have people over my head force me to go back on them.”
“I understand.” He stood and offered her his hand. “I know you’ll do what you can. I have a lot of mistakes in my past to make up for.”
She shook his hand.
The door popped open.
“Hey, Pris, did you—” Tanvi stopped dead in her tracks. “What the heck? I thought you were meeting with Talon? Who is this guy?”
“Talon left about a half hour ago, and this is Wildfyre,” Prism explained.
Tanvi gave a low whistle. “The Wildfyre? The one who is number six on DOSA’s ten most wanted list.”
Wildfyre smirked. “Six, huh? Used to be three. That’s what I get for taking a hiatus.”
“Yeah, you’re slipping, dude.” Tanvi’s gaze swept across him, pausing at the anklet. “He’s in custody? I didn’t hear any blasting and screaming, so I’m guessing you didn’t take him the old fashioned way.”
“He turned himself in. Wants to join the SVR,” Prism explained.
“Dang. Villains just begging to be reformed these days.” Tanvi put her hand next to her mouth as if to mask a whisper. “For what it’s worth, Wildfyre, I’m glad you’re aboard. For one thing you’ve got great style, and the team needs more of that.” She waved at his red jacket.
“Thanks.” He laughed.
Prism’s shoulders relaxed. Hopefully the rest of the team took Wildfyre’s introduction as well as Tanvi had. “Did you want something, Tanvi?” she asked. “It must’ve been important if you thought it was worth bursting in on me and Talon.”
“Nah, Talon doesn’t scare me. Adorable old guy. I just wanted you to see this.” Tanvi held out her phone. A muted live video of a blocky building surrounded by police cars played on the screen. Tanvi hit the button to unmute it. “A villain team hit an east coast DOSA facility. An evidence warehouse and forensic lab of all things.”
Prism took the phone. “That’s an odd target for supervillains. Do we know who it was? Any witnesses?”
“No, that’s the weird thing. Apparently everyone in the building fell unconscious simultaneously before the team blasted in.”
“Sleep powers?” Wildfyre peered at the phone. “That’s a unique ability. I don’t know any active villains with it. Could it be non-sable related? Tech maybe?”
“They’re pretty sure it was a sable,” Tanvi answered. “The building has safety protocols against gas attacks and other explanations.”
“Huh.” Something in Prism tightened. The ticker tape beneath the live feed claimed that there were no reports of casualties, but for a team to attack a DOSA facility in broad daylight, they had to be either very good or very stupid. “Do we know what they wanted?”
“No idea.” The feed switched to a series of security videos. Three figures in dark coats with hoods cast over their faces entered the facility through a hole in the wall. Their clothing didn’t allow for much to be guessed about their appearances. From the way they moved, she thought they were likely men, but she knew from experience that a female sable who wanted to disguise her identity could easily ape a man’s movements.
“If this is the video they played earlier, they do get one good shot right before the cameras go down.” Tanvi leaned to look over Prism’s shoulder. “Right ... now!”
One of the two men turned and faced the security camera, revealing the lower half of his face. He had a scraggly looking beard and appeared to be white.
“Not enough for an identity, though—”
Before Prism could finish, the second man raised his hand, and waves of energy rippled around him. The camera feed went black.
Wildfyre inhaled sharply and backed up a step.
Prism eyed him. “What? Do you know who he is?”
Wildfyre blinked several times then took the phone. He scrolled back along the feed a few seconds, watched it again, opened his mouth, shut it, then shook his head. “I thought I did, but it couldn’t be who I think it is, so it doesn’t matter. Must be someone with a similar power base is all.”
“Are you sure?” Prism pressed. “Because if you know anything about this, it might help convince DOSA to work with you.”
“I’m sure,” Wildfyre’s words came out with more confidence this time.
Prism nodded slowly. “All right.”
Wildfyre shifted, his eyes suddenly everywhere but meeting Prism’s.
Tanvi considered him. “You sure you’re sure?”
“Yes, definitely.” His eyes snapped back to Prism. “Look, I really want this to work, and I’ll be happy to consult with the team on future villain incursions, but this time, I don’t think I have anything to add. I know it’s hard, but you have to trust me on some things if this is going to work.”
“Trus
t needs to be earned, but at the same time this program wouldn’t go anywhere if we didn’t take chances on people. I’m willing to put some faith in you.” Hopefully her faith, along with the fact that he’d turned himself in, would be enough to convince the committee that he could enter the program. However, she had no promises. The Adjudicator, especially, liked to throw his weight around when it came to the SVR’s choice of recruits. If they didn’t agree and wanted to simply toss Wildfyre into a holding cell, what recourse would she have? None of the legal variety. Was she willing to go beyond that to keep a promise?
“Tanvi, can you leave us alone for a few minutes?” She handed her friend her phone.
“Sure. I want to see if I can find out more about this anyway.” Tanvi held up the phone where the surveillance video from the heist was now playing on loop.
As soon as the door shut behind Tanvi, Prism turned to Wildfyre. “Look, I can’t make promises about the committee accepting your conditional surrender, so as much as I know I shouldn’t do this—” She wavered before reaching into her pocket and hitting the button on the remote to his anklet.
The disruptor anklet gave a whirring noise before falling off him and onto the floor.
Wildfyre took a step back, staring at the device. “Why did you do that?”
“Because if I can’t keep the promise to get you on the team, I want you to be in the position to run.” She picked up the disruptor which had coiled into a tight spring. “You came here on good faith, and I want to repay that. I’ll take it on faith that even if you aren’t able to enter the SVR, you’ll continue to avoid criminal activity of your own volition.”
He examined her for a long moment. “I hope I can live up to the trust. I’m sincere in this. I promise I am, but it’s not easy.”
“I know. I’m married to a man who went through the same process, after all.” She toyed with her wedding ring. “The villain to hero transformation doesn’t happen overnight, but it can happen, and I promise it’s worth it.” She opened the door to the meeting room. “In the meantime, do you mind staying the night here? I need to make a few phone calls, remind some people of favors they owe me.”
“I brought an overnight bag. It’s in my car.” They left the meeting room only to find Fade waiting a few feet down the hall, leaning against the wall.
Wildfyre waved towards Prism. “See, dude, no damage done.”
“Good.” Fade pushed off the wall and walked towards them. “Tanvi showed me the feed from back east. Weird, huh?”
“Yeah, but well out our jurisdiction so hopefully DOSA has it in hand.” Prism rested her hand on his shoulder. “Wildfyre is going to join the team. I need to get in contact with Talon about working out a plea deal—”
Fade’s face fell, and Prism’s heart squeezed as she remembered.
“Oh, dang it, our date.” Her hands dropped to her sides. “I’m sorry, Fade. When Wildfyre showed up—dang it, I really want to go out, but—” She glanced at the supervillain.
“Sorry, I should’ve called earlier.” He gave a hopeful smile. “I mean, I could promise to be on my best behavior?”
“And I could promise not to beat your ass for ruining my plans with my wife, but would you be convinced?” Fade gazed pointedly at Wildfyre.
Wildfyre flinched then drew himself to his full height. “You do realize that my power base is shooting fire from my hands and yours is, what? Not being solid? Not that I want to fight you, but if I did—”
“No one is fighting anyone!” Prism raised her voice. A thought struck her. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and started a group text with Tanvi and Keeper. “I need to start delegating, anyway, otherwise maternity leave is going to be impossible.”
She texted, Everyone in the lobby ASAP. I have a job for you. Keeper, bring Yui. It doesn’t matter what form she’s in, but we need all hands.
Almost immediately two responses popped up.
Keeper: Aye, right away, lassie.
Tanvi: Yes, ma’am.
Prism smiled and put her phone away. “I don’t care how good you are, Wildfyre. You’re no match for any given member of my team. I’m going to have all three of them babysitting you, so don’t try anything.”
His brow furrowed. “Three? I looked up your team. Other than you and Fade, you only have Keeper and Forte. Who is number three?”
Prism dropped her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Should we explain about Yui?”
Fade chuckled. “Nah, it’s more fun if it’s a surprise.”
Wildfyre let out a long breath. “Man, what have I gotten myself into?”
“Hopefully a long and successful career of doing hero work with the best sable team on the west coast.” Prism grinned. “Now come on, I need to introduce you to the rest of the team.”
Chapter Three
Voices, sensations, Aiden could feel his body again. He strained against the confusion holding him down and tried to take control of his own being, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t so much as open his eyes to push away the darkness.
Panic spiked within him. His pulse pounded.
Where am I? What’s happening? Am I dead?
His powers flickered. He could feel other presences in the room, two other thought patterns just as blurry and directionless as his own—no more so. They weren’t even fighting. He needed to fight. He couldn’t stay like this.
No, I can’t be dead—I should, but I can’t. If I were dead, I’d be with my father, with my God. This isn’t right—am I in Hell?
Dread overwhelmed him, but he forced it down. No, he wasn’t in Hell, and somehow he wasn’t dead ... but what was this?
An electronic alarm blared somewhere above his head. His breath hitched, but his body didn’t move. Footsteps echoed nearby.
“Brainwave activity is spiking again,” a masculine voice said in a tone of annoyance. “Why won’t you stay down like a good boy?”
Something cold and metallic pressed against Aiden’s forehead. A buzzing, nauseating power radiated from it, pushing him towards confusion and oblivion. The strange power tried to take his awareness, his sense of self—
Desperate for clarity, he fought back. He strengthened his resolve, latching onto thoughts and memories that were his.
My name is Aiden Powell. My father was Kevin Powell, a hero. My name is Aiden—
But even as he thought it, the idea of who Aiden was, who he was, faded. He couldn’t grasp it, couldn’t picture his own face, what his childhood had been like, what his father looked like—
He held onto a memory of his dad. Focusing on a summer day on the beach, a Frisbee flying through the air, thrown by a bearded man in his late thirties. The plastic disk smacked into Aiden’s hand, and he pulled it against his chest.
“Good catch, Aid!” Pride hummed in his dad’s voice.
“Think fast!” Aiden rocketed the Frisbee back at his father—
Another pulse. He wanted to throw up, but his stomach was empty, hollow. Instead he convulsed, his body jerking against the restraints.
“Aiden, hurry up!” A teen girl in a purple princess costume poked a plastic sword at him as they tramped through the twilight of a warm evening.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” he griped, shifting a massive foam shield to his other hand. “I’m too old for trick or treating ... and so are you.”
She flicked his chin. “Oh, come on, Zelda can’t trick or treat without Link. It wouldn’t be right.” She laughed and skipped away. “I’m not doing my job as a big sister if I don’t make you do something embarrassing at least a couple times a year.”
“Dammit,” the voice above him said. “Going to try to sedate him.”
No, I can’t go under again. I need to go home.
Aiden dove deeper into his memories.
He crouched over a prone man, a stranger, and desperately pumped against his chest. The patient gasped.
“He’s back!” a fellow EMT cheered. “You got him.”
Something penetrated
a vein in his arm, cold, stinging.
Not again. Not this time. I just got back. I can’t lose myself again—
“Aid! Come on!” A dark skinned woman spun on the sand beside their bonfire. She extended her hand to him. “I have no one to dance with.”
She touched his arm, and his heart hammered. Like an idiot, he pulled away.
“You know I don’t dance, Tanvi.”
She stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, and for a moment, he almost said yes.
“But I love watching you dance,” he blurted out.
She laughed and kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet—but so stuffy. Okay, I’ll dance alone tonight.”
He could barely speak. He screamed at himself to say he’d changed his mind, to tell her she was pretty, to do something, anything other than stand there with a stupid, goofy smile on his face.
The chill spread down his arm, into his chest, and up his neck. It surrounded his mind, choking his thoughts.
No! I have people I need to get home to. This can’t happen again. I can’t leave them again. Not like this. He drew all his focus into his powers. He sent them outward, anchoring them around the memories of the people he loved. Can you hear me? Please! Someone needs to hear me! Please, I can’t ... I can’t break through. I need help.
“Spiking again? What the hell—”
Another wave of sickening energy pulsed from the device against his forehead. Despair overwhelmed him. He couldn’t fight it. No one could hear him. No one was there to help him. He was lost, and he couldn’t even scream for help.
Please ... he tried one last desperate call. Please, I can’t end this way. Someone needs to hear me—
A SHARP PAIN STRUCK Prism in the leg, and she sat up in bed with a strangled cry. Her heart jumped painfully as her sleepy mind tried to process what was going on.
Attack? No, empty room. What’s happening?
The muscles at the back of her leg contracted as if someone had grabbed them by opposite ends and were trying to rip them in half. She squeaked in agony.
