by Ekeke, C. C.
“Bogie’s insanely observant,” Brie warned. “He’s gonna know something’s up.”
Hugo reminded himself to breathe. Was she seeing someone? Or was the secret worse?
Jodie groaned. “I think he already knows. Things are weird now.”
“Whatever you decide, I’m here,” Brie assured. After a hug, the twosome gabbed a few minutes more about L.U.N.A.’s new rumored beau. Then Brie exited the car and headed inside her condo complex.
Jodie drove to her more modest Paso Robles neighborhood through dwindling traffic. She had a habit of reciting items on her to-do list. Or cursing at reckless drivers, which brought out her Bronx accent more.
Hugo’s heart warmed at these little Jordana moments. She deserved someone she could trust. Is that me? Hugo flinched from considering that answer as he followed Jodie’s car from above. Only when she’d parked outside her house and scurried inside to her berating parents did he know peace.
He never wanted to experience that level of worry again.
A new call pinged in his ear, the caller ID scrolling across his eyescreen. Irritation flared but not as strongly as before. “Yes?” he replied after answering.
“Above the cloud layer over Arroyo Grande.” Lady Liberty then hung up.
Hugo just wanted to sleep. But she might have more details on that idiot Polymer. He reached Arroyo Grande quickly, bursting through the blanketing clouds above the suburb. A pale crescent dominated the skies, splashing soft light across a sea of grey clouds and billowy pillars reaching for the stars.
Lady Liberty was partially silhouetted by moonlight, a goddess of the skies. Harsh winds tousled her long bob of brunette, silvery diadem gleaming bright. She smiled like Betty Ortiz, not Lady Liberty. “Hey.”
“Thank you.” Hugo floated closer and forced away his gratitude. “This doesn’t mean I fully forgive you.” He pointed to emphasize his stance.
Lady Liberty glanced away as if stung. “But it’s a start.”
Hugo got to the point. “About Polymer.” There had to be punishment for working with Saracen. “What’s happening to him?”
“Nothing.”
Hugo momentarily thought she was joking. “What?” Her stony expression said otherwise.
“Hugo.” Lady Liberty raised both hands in peace. “Polymer…Travis deserves another chance. He’s a good kid.”
Hugo opened his mouth heatedly. Lady Liberty interrupted. “The Warguard was a casualty of The Vanguard’s demise. Polymer and his peers have been rudderless ever since.” Her gaze fell. “My former teammates and I failed them.”
Hugo balled up a fist to stop from trembling with anger. He wasn’t interested in forgiving an attack this personally. “My friends could’ve died.”
Lady Liberty looked up sharply. “Then we’d be having a different conversation. Worry more about why Saracen is interested in you.”
That reminder felt colder than the frigid winds whipping around them. “Right. That.”
“Polymer’s willing to tell you everything he knows about Saracen.”
Distaste coiled tightly in Hugo’s chest. “I’d rather not see him again.”
Lady Liberty glowered. “You’re passing up a valuable source of information because of pride? I taught you better than that.”
The two superheroes glowered at each other from across the moonlit sky. Hugo itched to tell Lady Liberty to fuck off. But there was no escaping the logic in her advice. Goddammit. “Fine,” he grumbled.
Lady Liberty gave an irritatingly smug nod. “I’ll send his contact info.” She then performed an Olympic-level dive into the clouds and vanished.
Hugo floated alone, puzzled how his life had become so batshit bonkers.
Chapter 25
“My arms wanna fall off,” Greyson grumbled, eyeing a juicy cheeseburger in his hands. “But I gotta eat!”
That won laughter out of Shattershot in their small corner booth at the supers’ bar Mega Pantry. The empath used a hat and glasses as a disguise, enjoying a taco salad while skimming his phone.
Erika Skye had worked everyone hard on minimizing collateral damage in the field. It was the team’s only option after being temporarily benched by Seneca International.
As a reward for three straight days of grueling combat drills, Erika gave the team a night off. Greyson was happy to be out, but for different reasons.
The bar was crammed with patrons drinking and eating and carrying on. Most were supers mixed with some humans, a place in Shenandoah where racial divisions were forgotten. On the wide TV behind the bar, Lady Liberty looked gorgeous while battling the Dangerous Divas, a villainous trio in San Miguel. Havoc, Fatale, and Trauma always provided an edge-of-your-seat battle against their longtime enemy. But as expected, the Glorious Glamazon eked out a win before restraining the defeated villains.
The victory drew cheers across the bar. But Greyson pretended to ignore the mountainous man at the bar in a laughable disguise glancing in their direction for the past two hours.
Shattershot hadn’t seen Bulldozer spying on them, but Greyson didn’t have the heart to share. The empath was enjoying their night out. Plus, Greyson wanted to keep gaining his trust.
Shattershot’s grinning face was illuminated by his phone. “I think I like this Saracen dude.” He handed over his phone unprompted. “He dropped the motherload of data dumps.”
Greyson stared back, stunned by the unexpected gift. He quickly brought out his own phone, placing the two devices side by side and opened a tracking app when Shattershot focused on his own salad. The tracker wirelessly uploaded onto Shattershot’s cell to run invisibly in the background.
Then Greyson read the news app on display. The media portrayed Saracen as a rogue hacktivist akin to Snowden after he’d dropped countless classified documents. This latest release specifying American interference in Amarantha struck at Greyson’s core.
He shifted in his seat, memories of his time on the island littering his mind like a bad dream.
Shattershot shook his head and laughed. “I always knew something was screwy about what happened in Amarantha despite what N3 kept peddling.”
Greyson handed back the phone, a risky idea surfacing. Providing some real backstory might build more trust with his unwilling pawn. “Everything the news media reports on Amarantha is bullshit.”
He then told Shattershot the truth, from the OSA’s tech fueling the oppression of Amarantha’s supers to the botched AmeriForce invasion.
By the time Greyson finished, Shattershot’s jaw was hanging open. “You’re fucking kidding me…”
Greyson shook his bushy-haired head. “America, Canada, and Mexico left their own heroes to die. And the current Amaranthine government is completely legitimate.”
“That’s crazy!” Shattershot whisper-yelled, leaning over the table. “How do you know all this?”
I have Amarantha’s leader on speed dial. “A bounty hunter friend does work there,” Greyson lied. “Keeps me updated.”
They discussed the matter several more minutes before Shattershot switched topics. “You think Seneca will dump me?” He looked shaken.
“Because you’re an ex-criminal?” Greyson challenged, arms folded. “Or do you have any dirtier secrets?” He hoped there were dirtier secrets.
Shattershot walled off. “I just…I can’t screw this up.”
Greyson’s heart softened. “You won’t.” He reached over to slap his teammate’s shoulder. “We need to watch each other’s backs.”
Shattershot beamed. “I’m cool with that.” Shoveling down the rest of his meal, he then stood, lean and well-dressed. “Anyway. I’m off to get sloshed. I got this,” he stated as Greyson reached for his wallet.
“Have fun, brother.” Greyson watched him head to the bar and pay for their meal. Shattershot then disappeared through the crowd toward the back.
That left Greyson with his stalker, still nursing on the same beer bought almost three hours ago.
Greyson shot off a quick te
xt to Connie.
ME: SS’s on the move. Tracker’s on his phone.
Greyson slipped on his coat and shouldered his way toward the same exit as Shattershot.
From the corner of his eye, the hulking figure at the bar rose.
He stepped into the frosty evening at a brisk pace. Several yards back, the large shadow trailed him at a slower yet persistent pace.
“Alright, big man,” Greyson whispered. “Let’s play.” Spying the nearest alley, he powerwalked forward and made a quick left. His pursuer’s heavy footfall became a sprint.
Greyson negated his tether to the ground, flying straight up. The anti-gravity leap was a risk with all the monitoring drones soaring about. But it was worth embarrassing Bulldozer.
Moments later, Bulldozer, in his hoodie, rushed inside the alleyway to one end and peeked out. He then ran back to the entrance. “Where the hell did he go?” Bulldozer demanded.
After a few more minutes of searching, Bulldozer gave up. “Shoulda tailed Shattershot,” he grumbled.
Once he was a significant distance away, Greyson stood from his perch and laughed. What an invasive asshole. A buzzing text disrupted his gloating.
CIH: You close? I’m in Valley Heights.
ME: Gimme the address babe.
Greyson leaped back down to the alleyway and called a rideshare.
Fifteen minutes later, he reached his destination. Connie was waiting atop one of Shenandoah’s many empty buildings. She wore a catsuit, hair in a ponytail. Her infectious smile greeted him as they kissed.
“Hey, you.” Greyson just enjoyed looking at Connie, holding his wife.
“Hi!” She pecked his lips, wrinkling her nose. “Everything kosher?”
Greyson rolled his eyes, not wanting to think about his stalker. “Yeah. Had to lose a tail. Bulldozer.”
Connie’s smile vanished. “Say the word and he’s dead.” The request held no hesitation.
Greyson gave her an alarmed onceover. “Love the enthusiasm,” he remarked, higher than normal. “But I got plans for him.” He switched from his wife’s murderous impulses. “Do you have something on Shattershot?” In his sparse free time, he’d tasked Connie and Paxton-Brandt with deeper investigations into his teammates for more dirt. And by Connie’s excited text, she had something big.
Connie stepped back from him and nodded at the building across the street. “Last location before he shut off his phone. A hostel for those coming in and out of town.”
One building over, a couple was kissing and groping in one of the fourth-floor windows. Greyson almost turned away on instinct, until recognizing Shattershot. “Nice.”
The woman all over Shattershot was stunning, slim, and with spiky blue hair. “Who’s the booty call?”
“Bam-Bam,” Connie answered.
Greyson frowned, that name inducing hazy memories. “Sounds familiar.”
“Works for The Conglomerate…like Shattershot before.”
“Oh shit!” Greyson turned back to the building across the street. Paxton-Brandt had given them a rundown of known East Coast rogues. Shattershot and his lady had retired into the bedroom, shutting off the lights. “I doubt the other Thrillers know.”
Connie had that mischievous look that he loved. “We can spill the beans.”
Greyson brushed off the notion. “Let’s get more intel on his girlfriend. We can use this against Shattershot.”
Connie pouted but recovered quickly. “Done. I got something else you’re going to love.”
Greyson pecked her forehead. “I love your surprises.”
Connie pulled out her phone and clicked on something. “Thanks to the tracker you put on this teammate’s phone, I’ve tailed them for a week whenever they sneak out.” She showed him the image of a pale older gentleman who would’ve been handsome except for his beer-bloated stomach and bad combover. “Robin MacKay. Successful restaurant owner. Crappy boss.”
Connie swiped the phone screen to another image of Robin MacKay lying prone. “Hospital-bound as of thirty-five minutes ago.”
Greyson recoiled. MacKay was covered in gruesome, smoking burns. “What happened?”
“Brightburn happened.”
Greyson’s stomach dropped out. “What?”
Connie nodded, solidifying his bewilderment. “Robin has a sexual assault charge against him. But he copped a plea deal two years ago and barely got a month in jail.” She gazed at the image of MacKay’s burnt body. “Brightburn took justice into her own hands.”
Brightburn, vapid selfie queen, had a dark side. “The public will love that,” Greyson gushed.
“MacKay isn’t her first.” Connie drew closer, eyes glittering in the darkness. “Or worst.”
Greyson beamed at the possibilities. Damn, he loved Connie. “Show me every victim.”
Chapter 26
Hugo waited three days before contacting Polymer. First off, he wanted to make sure Jodie and Brie were okay.
Jordana was being more lovey-dovey than usual, which he always welcomed. Yet she still wouldn’t reveal her secret.
Brie finally stopped avoiding Hugo, but the lingering tension between them led to brief and stilted conversations. Not welcome. She’d get this weird look on her face whenever she saw him. Definitely uncomfortable. Startled, almost.
In short, both girls showed no side effects or memories from their kidnapping.
Secondly, J-Tom was going for her psych evaluation to become his trainee. She’d been panicking, but Hugo had been coaching her through what to expect.
And thirdly, Hugo had kept a lower profile as Aegis, sticking to rescue missions. Lower profile made him, his friends, and family less of a target. In fact, Hugo wasn’t planning to contact Polymer.
Until Saracen's latest data dump, revealing America’s role in Amarantha becoming an apartheid state. The OSA’s involvement was extensive, along with its Canadian and Mexican counterparts.
Saracen could out me too. Fear had forced Hugo to grudgingly reach out yesterday.
Polymer had been thrilled. “Let’s meet at Danger Room,” he’d suggested. “Neutral territory.”
Hugo wasn’t crazy about such a visible meeting place, especially a popular superhero-themed nightclub. At least he would get this meeting over with.
AJ sat cross-legged on Hugo’s bed. “You sure about this?”
“Absolutely not.” Hugo stood before a mirror, adjusting his costume but hadn’t pulled his mask and hood on. “I gotta see what he knows.” He glanced at his brother in soccer gear. But AJ didn’t have practice or a game tonight. Hugo had been paying closer attention. “Where are you going?”
AJ immediately perked up. “Homeless shelter with Dallas and the rest of the soccer team.”
Hugo wasn’t expecting that. “Interesting hangout spot.”
“My idea,” AJ insisted. “Playing soccer with homeless kids.”
A smile slashed Hugo’s face. “Mom raised you right.” He walked over, tousling his brother’s hair.
AJ’s cheeks reddened. “You inspired me to help people.” He looked away.
“Oh.” Dizzying warmth enfolded Hugo’s heart. “Thanks, uso.”
Cellphone vibrations interrupted the brotherly moment. Hugo reached for his work cell on the desk.
Knox: Polymer’s here.
ME: On my way.
Hugo sighed. Developing contacts independent of Lady Liberty was paying off. “I’m out.”
AJ hopped off his brother’s bed. “I wanna know how it all goes.”
“Absolutely.” Hugo pulled his mask and hood on. “If you need anything before going to the shelter—”
AJ scoffed. “I’m thirteen, uso. And Mom will call every half-hour.” Hugo chuckled. “Later.” He raced from the house and then his neighborhood before taking to the skies.
Minutes later, Hugo floated high above downtown San Miguel’s vast sea of lights and traffic.
Most big metropolises had diverse collections of superheroes, but San Miguel was the epicenter of t
he superhero world. Danger Room embodied that supremacy, a club where superheroes, admirers, and cape chasers converged.
From what Hugo recalled, ex-hero Leviathan had opened several clubs in the mid-1990s to be like Planet Hollywood for superhero fans. Chicago’s Watchtower, HQ in Manhattan and London’s Elseworld were hotspots in their respective cities. Regardless, Danger Room remained the crown jewel.
Danger Room stood out among Grand Street Row’s nightclubs. Its large half-dome reached three stories, sporting an Art Deco façade with reflective sea-blue windows covering the front. Bright spotlights ringed the nightclub, reaching to the heavens.
From what Hugo saw, the line to enter Danger Room wrapped around the block, taxis and rideshares pulling up constantly. Mobs of paparazzi gathered near the front entrance to snap major arrivals.
Hugo gulped. He’d defeated a six-person team singlehandedly. But a popular nightclub creeped him out?
He slapped himself. “We’re doing this.”
He plunged to earth feet-first. Air whistled past him, tiny buildings and narrow streets ballooning quickly. Hugo slowed his descent right before touchdown, landing on one knee with both arms thrown back. Picture-perfect superhero landing.
A shockwave billowed around Hugo followed by a woman’s squeal. The world briefly held its breath.
Moments later, the line and paparazzi erupted as Hugo rose. Cameras flashed like crazy.
He strode for the entrance, passing Tsunami in her little black dress, long caramel-brown hair combed back. God, she looked hot…and windblown. Tsunami pressed her skirt down, glaring.
Hugo winked at her. The reaction from those in line was even crazier.
“Aegis! Aegis!”
“I’ll be your shieldmaiden, Aegis!”
“We love you, Shield of Justice!”
“Aegis,” a reporter caught his ear. “How do you respond to rumors that Tomorrow Man might retire?”
That turned Hugo around. The reporter, a slim black man with glasses and long dreads, held out a recording device. He should’ve kept quiet, but the urge was too great. “How can someone retire when they barely had a career?”
The crowd ooohed and roared like school kids at lunch. The reporter choked on a laugh.
