by Ekeke, C. C.
Grace turned away to hide her disappointment. “Whatever.”
Hugo’s stomach tightened. The gulf between him and Grace had become a river. But can she forgive me and accept my half-truths?
“Anyone see the rest of my tacos?” Groban asked, searching around the tables. “They were here a minute ago…”
Raphael thankfully filled the tense silence. “Did you hear about Aegis slaying a kaiju?”
“Half-Man, Half-Amazing,” Groban added.
“Who hasn’t heard?” Hugo scoffed. I was there. His friends jabbered on about Aegis while he tried not to smile too proudly.
“I’m curious,” J-Tom stated, eyeing Hugo pointedly. “Why are Battalion and the Hollywood Bombshells in town?”
Wale looked disturbed. “I’m more worried about a Godzilla beast barbequing my neighborhood.”
“I heard that’s the last one,” Hugo remarked honestly. “But who knows?”
“If another shows up, Aegis and Lady Liberty will protect us,” J-Tom declared decisively.
Simon glared down her exuberance. Hugo’s cheeks warmed. No pressure.
“Don’t forget Tomorrow Man,” Groban added.
Simon snorted. “Too late!” Barking mirth erupted around their group.
“Speaking of losers…” Raphael pulled out his phone. “There’s video of the Tiamat whacking him into next week.”
Jodie rolled her eyes. “Raph’s watched like ten times.”
The Stanleys and J-Tom gathered round the cellphone video showing drone footage above the Avila Beach battle.
Hugo gulped, shocked anew by the Tiamat’s size. Wow. It swung a ginormous, tentacled arm and smacked Tomorrow Man so hard, he landed with a frothy splash all the way in Pismo Beach miles away.
Hugo guffawed watching this new angle. “Next week called, Tomorrow Man, and they’re sick of you. Just like we are today.” Both tables roared with laughter.
“He’s a loser,” Karin Stanley said.
“And a liar,” her sister Marin added.
“Tomorrow Man is so uncool,” the twins said simultaneously.
Hugo felt guilty laughing at his counterpart’s expense but just couldn’t stop. Superheroes without their peers’ respect or that cool factor which kids emulated usually didn’t last long.
The bell ending lunch rang. Students swarmed for their fifth periods. As his friends departed, Jodie led Hugo by the arm to move around Raphael and Karlee.
“Check this…” She gestured at one of their friends passed out, folded arms pillowing her face.
Hugo grinned, whispering an idea in Jodie’s ear. She cackled mischievously and scurried to the other side. Hugo raised a hand, silently counting to three.
J-Tom, Melinda, and Simon cringed in anticipation.
“WAKE UP, BRIE!” Hugo and Jordana shouted.
Briseis El-Saden sat bolt upright, fully awake. She glared at Hugo and Jodie, pushing bouncy, shoulder-length locks of auburn from her face. “Ass and hole,” she mumbled, stretching her arms catlike.
Hugo smiled cheekily. “Hello right back, Briseis.”
Brie’s simple attire, white t-shirt with a little black strappy dress, flattered her slim yet filled-out figure. What hadn’t changed was Brie’s ridiculous face, more beautiful than ever in Hugo’s opinion.
Also unchanged—her vanity. “Omigod, is my lipstick everywhere?” she whined, brushing at her lips. “Do I still look glam, boobs?”
“Always, wife,” Jordana teased, tilting her head cheekily.
Brie turned to J-Tom. “Any thoughts, Jenny?”
J-Tom, snacking on Skittles, froze. “I like peanut butter?”
Hugo burst out laughing with Jordana and Melinda.
Brie smacked J-Tom’s arm. “Real helpful, buddy—” She paused and frowned. “Interesting.” Her fingers groped up the length of J-Tom’s arm. “Didn’t know the gun show was in town.”
Hugo stiffened. Simon gulped. Brie wasn’t the first to notice the lean muscle J-Tom was putting on. The regular combat training with Blackjack and Hugo was paying dividends.
J-Tom covered quickly, flexing her left arm and pointing across the Quad. “Down that way in Pismo!” While Brie and Jodie laughed, Hugo sighed in quiet relief. J-Tom’s improv was better than she realized.
“You’re corny as fuck, J-Tom,” Jodie teased.
Simon shook his head in disgust as everyone else scattered. “See what you’ve infected our group with?”
“Pipe down, friend police,” Hugo snapped. His BFF remained leery of the three popular girls hanging with their circle of artsy dance geeks and superhero aficionados. And Simon certainly didn’t approve of Hugo befriending Brie again. Those two still loathed each other.
But last year had changed Hugo and Brie for the better. Shedding that mutual animosity and forgiving each other had been…liberating.
After Simon and J-Tom departed, that left Hugo with Jodie and Brie.
“Dinner at the Promenade? After your tennis practice?” Jodie asked Brie.
“Totally,” she agreed.
“Sweet.” Jodie twirled to gaze up at Hugo. Her brown eyes gleamed, melting his heart. “Talk tonight?”
Hugo drew her closer. “My breath’s bated.”
“My body’s calling.”
The sexy retort raised more than Hugo’s eyebrows. “Freak.”
“Fuckboy.”
Hugo pulled her into another kiss. Jodie made a contented noise. Her fingers caressed the nape of his neck, and Hugo’s toes curled.
Brie cleared her throat. “While we’re still young, people.”
That sent Jodie scurrying off to class, blushing and giggly.
Hugo turned to see Brie’s eyes widen while she forced on a smile. Strange. He sneered at her, and they headed to Advanced Placement Biology 2.
“Question,” Brie inquired. They’d entered the steel-and-glass Science building, countless students racing around them. “Is Grace taking friendship applications? I’d kill to hang out with her.”
Hugo shrugged. Grace’s invite-only dance parties and oddball charisma had made her quite popular. “You try talking to her?”
Brie’s gaze fell. “My Spidey sense is saying she’s not a fan.”
Hugo cringed internally. He and Simon had told Grace many unflattering stories about Brie last year. But she didn’t need to hear that. “Ask her about fashion.” Two minutes until class began. Hugo strode faster. “She makes lots of her own clothes.”
Brie whipped her head around. “For serious?” Her pale green eyes gleamed with possibilities. “I’m just…I’m shooketh by her awesomeness!”
Brie was still figuring out her new normal after a very public fall from grace. Jodie and J-Tom joining Hugo’s clique had gone smoother. J-Tom was literally a sunshine human whom everyone fell in love with. And Jodie was always unfiltered, always fun to be around.
“Is Easy Breezy fucking him, too?” someone asked when they entered the Science building’s second floor.
Hugo flinched and watched Brie’s reaction. She’d schooled her face into a blank, beautiful mask. But her eyes revealed lingering pain from the crass reminder of the video that destroyed her reputation.
Abby Dunleavy strutted by with legs for weeks, flanked by friends. “Easy Breezy Cover Girl!” she cried.
While her minions howled, Abby shot a nasty look at Hugo.
He ignored her. Those secret summer hookups had been a huge mistake.
Brie, fuming, whirled around to unload on Abby.
“No!” Hugo spun her back around by the shoulders. “Not worth it.”
Brie sighed and let him steer her forward in resignation. “There’s a lot of them to ignore.”
Hugo squeezed her shoulders in support. “If you don’t mind, they don’t matter.”
Brie coughed out laughter. “My therapist said the same. I shouldn’t be shocked after what a monumental bitch I’ve been.”
“You’re not that girl anymore.” Hugo wouldn’t have rekindled their
friendship otherwise.
A weary smile pulled at Brie’s mouth as they neared their classroom. “Recovering mean girl. Totally de-bitched.”
Their Biology 2 classroom had rows of tables facing before the front of the room, most of them full. “How’s therapy been?” Hugo inquired quietly, nodding to a few classmates he knew.
Brie shuddered, sitting down beside him. “Had a joint session with Daddy and Mumu.” Mumu, aka her mother, aka Ms. Universe of the Mentally Unstable. “Pure torture.”
Hugo felt for Brie, whose parents were amid an ugly divorce. “What happened?”
“I called out Mumu for causing my eating issues,” she stated. “Like whenever she’d bash my weight or meal sizes, I’d take that as a punishment and exercise myself to death. If she said nothing or gave her approval, I took that as a pat on the head. Mumu didn’t react well.”
“Glad you finally told them,” Hugo encouraged, studying her. “Mumu deserves to get owned.”
Brie’s shoulders sagged. “She’s been trying since then.”
During their many talks this summer, Hugo had seen how deep Briseis’s scars went. “That convo got dark,” he remarked dryly.
“Sorry.”
The bell rang for fifth period to start. Their Biology 2 teacher, Mr. Saito, hadn’t arrived.
“You’ve been through a lot,” Hugo soothed, tapping his desk. “And survived.”
Brie grinned and poked his arm. “No thanks to you.” Her eyes warmed.
“Well, excuse my friendship,” Hugo snarked. “Did you watch Aegis fight that kaiju?”
Brie’s mirth turned to meh. “Some of it. Then I dozed off.”
That annoyed Hugo. She had this “meh” face anytime Aegis was discussed. “Still a hater?”
Brie prickled. “It’s been three months. People need to chill the fuck out with calling him the next Titan.”
She wasn’t wrong. The glowing press and high expectations since his debut scared Hugo sometimes.
Brie wasn’t done, flipping through her textbook heatedly. “But if Aegis hooks up with that handsy alien whorebag from the Extreme Teens, then he’s CANCELLED!”
Hugo wanted to crawl under his desk from the alarmed stares watching them. “One, you’re crazy. Two, Starchylde isn’t a real alien.”
“I know that,” Brie snapped, then softened. “Therapy helped me realize that the Extreme Teens, whom I used to love, represent everything wrong with superheroes. Aegis joining them would prove he’s another famewhore nine-to-fiver.”
Hugo felt the same way. But why he cared about her liking his alter ego mystified even him. “We’ll find out in his Newsworthy interview Thursday.” Quinn had interviewed Hugo as Aegis weeks ago before leaving for Germany. “Watching that might Aeg-just your opinion.”
Brie stared at him. “You’re a child,” she declared, shaking her head scornfully.
Hugo winked. “There’s the Brie we know and love.”
Briseis blushed and smiled, quickly averting her gaze.
Hugo’s work cell buzzed, and he checked under his desk.
Doc Freeze: Got target details for tomorrow night’s mission.
Excitement scorched up Hugo’s body. His and Dr. Michelman’s war against Paxton-Brandt continued. He slid his phone back into his pocket when Mr. Saito arrived to begin class.
Chapter 3
Six past ten o’clock at night. The gloomy skies were bucketing rain.
A lone costumed man crawled across the flooded street. Mandrake, one of Laredo’s superheroes. His dark-grey outfit bore slashes from battle, skull-shaped helmet cracked.
“C’mon…” He fought up to a knee. “This isn’t over.”
“Actually, it is.”
Mandrake turned around. His eyes, exposed by that cracked helmet, bulged. Greyson Hirsch approached unhurriedly in a rain-soaked trench coat and light armor.
Mandrake, a rookie from that do-nothing team called Squadron, had been on patrol. Greyson had been doing some business with the Delgado Cartel. The opportunity was too perfect to pass up. Greyson clenched a fist in anticipation, rivers of energy coursing through him.
Mandrake coughed. “Fuck you.” He raised his arm, the purple glow of his fist illuminating the street.
Greyson smirked and waggled his fingers, increasing the weight of Mandrake’s arm.
The hero cried out and crumpled, unable to lift his arm off the pavement.
Greyson strode closer. “Stay down.” Rain dribbled down his beard and thick hair. “It’s a shorter distance to fall.” Tonight, he had a taste for torture. Maybe because of how…easy this was.
Mandrake thrashed and strained but couldn’t escape.
Greyson smirked. “Still fighting?” He reached out. Gravitational energy swirling around his hands distorted nearby raindrops. “Wouldn’t want a one-sided fight.”
Mandrake actually chuckled. “About that…”
His confidence alarmed Greyson. “Eh?”
Footsteps splish-splashed from behind.
Greyson swore and turned, sheathing himself in gravity fields.
A lanky man dressed like Mandrake stood several feet away, energy rippling around him.
He thrust out both hands, despite his distance.
An invisible wall slammed the breath out of Greyson, breaking his hold on Mandrake and nearly breaking him in half. He landed on wet pavement with a hard smack. Greyson coughed as the dark skies spat down rain. His sternum throbbed. That attack would’ve done more damage if not for his shields.
“Got him!” the young man exclaimed.
“Stay on him, Suerte,” Mandrake warned. “We don’t know how powerful he is.”
Greyson forced himself into a seated posture. “You’re right.”
Mandrake was catching his wind. Suerte, beside him, advanced to attack again.
Despite aching muscles, Greyson reacted faster.
Suerte froze in place. “Can’t…move…”
With two opponents, Greyson had to end this fight quickly. “Time’s up.” He raised a fist and closed it, magnifying the gravitational pull on Suerte’s bones.
The hero screamed, then imploded within Greyson’s forcefields, spraying it bright red.
Greyson withdrew his forcefield, and Suerte’s crushed remains splashed to the pavement.
Mandrake stumbled upright. “NO!”
Greyson shrugged, feeling nothing. “Self-defense.”
Mandrake had murder in his eyes. “You’re dead!” His body lit up, rain sizzling off him.
Greyson beckoned the hero forward. “Try.”
Mandrake cocked both fists and charged.
Greyson lazily swept his hand left, tethering Mandrake’s gravity to a nearby car.
The hero got yanked sideways, sailing into the dark. A crack was followed by several crunching ribs.
That stirred Greyson somewhat. “How…disappointing.” He shivered theatrically and then walked to where Mandrake was now pinned. “Oh well.”
The hero’s rangy body was trapped against a Suburban SUV, limbs splayed like a starfish. Blood wormed down his lips, indicating internal injuries. But with Greyson altering his gravity, Mandrake was trapped.
“Why…” he demanded feebly. “Why are you helping the Delgados? They’re…monsters.”
Greyson bristled at this man’s hypocrisy. “As are you.”
“Me?” Mandrake gawked. “I’m…keeping the borders safe…”
“You hold the line,” Greyson corrected with a laugh. “Capturing or killing your quota of drug dealers yet making no actual change.”
“Untrue.” Yet doubt crept into Mandrake’s pained eyes.
“Is it?” Greyson moved closer, arms behind his back. “You could’ve destroyed these warring cartels smuggling drugs into our country.” He grabbed Mandrake’s throat. “Yet you don’t.”
“Not our jurisdiction,” Mandrake blurted out, as if scripted.
Greyson scoffed. Always an excuse. “Meaning you and your ilk are lazy cowards.”
>
To his credit, Mandrake remained unafraid. “My team will stop you,” he rasped.
The empty threat stirred a sliver of excitement within Greyson. “I welcome it.” He tightened his grip, watching the life fade from Mandrake’s eyes.
An hour later, Greyson lay shirtless and dry in bed. The TV’s pale glow spilled over a dim hotel room.
Connie Ishibashi-Hirsch, his wife, knelt beside him. Her pink lingerie was a welcome distraction, sleek raven-black hair up in a ponytail.
“You’re hurt,” she fretted, pressing ice wrapped in a hand towel on his purple-bruised sternum.
Greyson tensed from the icy touch, then relaxed as the soreness ebbed. “They put up more fight.”
Connie searched his face, frowning. “Yet you aren’t satisfied.”
Wifey knows me well. Another reason why he loved Connie. “Squadron aren’t who I want.”
Understanding filled Connie’s features. “The Shield of Justice.”
Aegis, in San Miguel, had made quite a splash since defeating those fraudulent Elite months ago. Since then, he’d beaten several threats to his patron city. There were also rumors that Aegis helped stop some undisclosed international crisis weeks ago. But a random cape appearing out of nowhere and becoming an instant press darling? Something felt wrong, and Greyson had to stop this new false god.
Connie sat next to him, hand on the icepack. “Remember what Paxton-Brandt said,” she recited.
Greyson rolled his eyes. “Aegis is off-limits. Which I don’t understand.” He'd taken occasional Mexico visits to help the Delgado Cartel fight superhuman drug lords. But Greyson had started hunting US-based superheroes, C-listers that mainstream news barely covered. All because Paxton-Brandt wanted to cripple a corporate rival. “They’re playing a game of chicken with Seneca International. Not sure I like being a pawn.”
“It’s an outlet to sharpen our skills,” Connie suggested. “And Seneca’s brand of heroes represents the worst.” She looked like she’d smelled bad cheese.
Greyson knew the feeling. His lip curled. “Corporate nine-to-fivers.” His attention glided back to the TV, and he smiled. “Our message is trending.”
Connie watched the screen and beamed. “I’m sure people are hearing us loud and clear.”
Placing the compress on the floor, she straddled Greyson with a hungry look and nibbled along his collarbone.
