A Change of Pace – Season 2 – Chapter 42

Isla was still shaking when she exited the tent where the pushy soldier had asked her questions. Only part of the shaking was due to the explosion that had ripped through the city, and the chaos that followed. A lot of her anxiety had to do with the recent questioning.

No one told her how to handle that situation. She had her SI requirements, but this wasn’t some collegiate administrator or other student bugging her for details about her Super status. This was the Army and the DVA. They weren’t fucking around, and she didn’t know where to draw the line. So, she ended up telling them everything.

The soldier hadn’t even blinked when she whispered she was a member of West Private HCP’s freshman class. He’d probably become even more intrusive. Isla’s eyes had scanned the room for help in those moments; begging and praying that Coach McMillian or Coach Meyers would step in and handle everything.

She noticed some people in the room from around the HCP, one or two members of her own class, and then a bunch of normal looking people who she guessed were members of the Orlando civilian population who just happened to be Supers.

“Isla?” A familiar voice called out her name.

She turned around and saw a small gathering of her classmates. Since Aiden was the tallest, he was the one she saw waving her over. She hurried over to join the group, which had a couple of sophomores present. A terrorist attack kind of threw the “don’t group together and draw attention” instructions out the window. People were more concerned with their own shit, and the group of young Supers was only drawing limited attention.

“Hey.” She huddled with the rest of the group, her body still shaking a bit.

“Do you want my jacket?” Aiden asked with a look of concern.

“I’m good,” Isla shook her head and lifted her chin up. She didn’t want the rest of the class to think she was going into shock from everything. She was training to be a Hero, and Heroes didn’t shy away from the ugly.

“Can you believe that shit?” Scarlett was standing near the center of the group and fuming. “They’re questioning anyone who isn’t one hundred percent human and grilling them about their ‘involvement’.” She put the last word in air quotes.

“They’re just doing their jobs.” Someone else commented, but Scarlett just gave them a dismissive hand wave.

“I’m telling…” Scarlett started but stopped suddenly and just shook her head. “I’m just saying it feels wrong, and I’ve got a better idea about how that shit world works than the rest of you.”

“Not all of us.” Kyoshi Schultz stepped into the conversation and ignored the glare Scarlett shot her way. “But Scarlett has a point. It’ll be better if we head back to school and discuss this stuff there.”

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than all their phones got a text message simultaneously. It was a campus alert from the school. It told everyone to return to campus, if possible, so the school could get accountability of their students.

“Let’s go.” Kyoshi took charge and started to lead the group of students toward the nearest bus station.

It was a ten-minute ride back to the edge of campus and then another ten minutes for them all to get back down into the HCP without drawing too much attention. They had to be extra careful to ensure that no one followed them from the bombing site and tried to blow their secret identities. A random person off the street claiming that someone might be a Super from what they looked like back at the bombing sites was one thing, making a claim on campus was another. Everyone hoped that no one’s cover was blown in the next few days. That would just be the icing on the shit cake.

One of the professors that Isla didn’t really know – a Professor Willis – gathered them together in the gym and started to check names of a list.

“Everyone needs to stay put until we know the status of all the students. There are refreshments in the corner if you’re hungry. Getting a little sugar in you after what you’ve seen might not be a bad idea. Others might want to be proactive, do something so they don’t feel useless.” The Professor wasn’t pulling any punches. “If that’s the case, then get into your uniforms and I’ll run you through an exciting training exercise.”

Isla wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, but the exodus of students to the locker room made the decision for her. She went in and got into her black uniform and hit the track for their five mile warmup.

It wasn’t until a few miles in that she started to feel better. Getting the blood pumping was keeping her from thinking about everything that could go wrong in the next few days, and what had happened in the last few hours. The rhythmic breathing of her running helped to clear her mind and focus it on the simple tasks right in front of her.

The rest of the class was the same way. Soon, their concerns about the bombing fell away as they got further into their workout. That was exactly what Professor Willis wanted. When he was sure no one was looking he glanced back down at his checklist. There were a few names that didn’t have a checkmark next to them, and the DVA was reporting that all Supers had been interviewed and evacuated from the immediate area. The old Subtlety Hero hoped they were in route or else their week was about to get a lot worse.

 

***

 

“Three…two…one…BREECH…BREECH…BREECH!”

Daisy listened for the go order before taking action. She already had the life lines of everyone in that building dialed in. All she had to do was squeeze. Thirty-one people went limp and dropped to the floor. She suspected at least a few would have collateral injuries from the fall, but that wasn’t a big concern.

Loud cracks of gunfire cut through the air as snipers took out windows. The blinds and curtains were drawn so no one could get a bead on Nightingale, but there was always a chance someone would get lucky, and with the civilians unconscious on the floor, the risk to innocent people was minimal.  That was only a secondary goal. The primary reason was for the SWAT members repelling down from the roof to have easy access into the building.

That was only one phase of the complicated operation. Usually, you wanted to keep an assault like this simple, but nothing was simple with a psychopath like Nightingale. They had to go in from as many angles as possible. Daisy dropping the civilians was just a small part in the plan. Right now, Hunter was teleporting SWAT all over the place in the building to cover as many different approaches as possible.

The plan was to contain her as much as possible before she could even move. Daisy might be out on the perimeter, but Hunter was getting in on the action. He still had his big gun and been in more than his share of fire fights.

Gunshots rang out and the radio filled up with chatter. Daisy gripped the side of her chair and squeezed. The groan of warping metal was drowned in the hurried reports and yells of agents and SWAT officers.

More gunshots rang out. “Man down!”

“Shit…she’s…” Static followed.

“Hunter, report.” Agent Phillips was at the center of the chaos trying to hold down the fort.

“We’re pinned, she’s got…” The staccato roll of a rifle on full auto rang out and crashes and curses could be heard over Hunter’s line.

<Fuck it!> Daisy pivoted, broke through the perimeter, and reached the front door in a few kinetically-powered leaps. People were screaming behind her, but she didn’t give a shit. People were dying and she was able to do something about it.

A SWAT member in black tactical gear was slumped over a railing on the first floor landing. Blood dripped from two holes right where his armor ended and his neck began. It was expert shooting, which made Daisy take a few deep breaths.

<I should have grabbed a radio.> She shook her head. Her leg still itched like a bitch and she was beginning to regret her impulsive action.

A three-round burst rang out above her followed by a scream. Daisy grabbed the dead SWAT member’s side arms before bounding up the stairs two at a time. More bodies and blood filled the hallways. They’d all been expertly targeted with shots where their armor didn’t cover them or was weak. A good few were still alive, but they wouldn’t stay that way for long without medical attention.

“Hold on,” she whispered as she continued to move toward the sporadic gun fire.

It sounded like it was getting higher and higher, so she kept up her pursuit. The first bullet fired her way was meant to keep her head down. It smacked into the wood hard a few inches from her head. Splinters shot toward her face, but her absorption made them fall limply to the ground.

The gunfire was no longer sporadic. Shots rang out every few seconds. Daisy didn’t need a radio to hear the SWAT teams talking with each other and converging on Nightingale’s position. The BOOM of Hunter’s rifle felt like it made the whole building shake.

“Push! Push!” someone yelled. Two SWAT officers appeared in the hall in front of her and started moving forward while methodically firing to keep Nightingale behind cover.

It didn’t work.

Daisy didn’t see how the supervillain had gotten her shots off, but both officers went down. One had blood fountaining from his neck, while the other one grabbed his leg and screamed. Daisy rushed up the last few stairs to the landing and reached for the nearest guy. He was only a few yards from the cover of the landing, but that still put her in the open.

The first round hit her in the shoulder just as she got a grip on the back of the guy’s vest. She expected the unbelievable pain of a gunshot wound to radiate through her body, but instead heard the soft ping of the bullet falling uselessly to the ground.

“Fuck!” Nightingale swore from down the hall.

Daisy didn’t waste any time. She gave the guy a mighty pull and he flew back into the cover of the stairwell. His landing wasn’t pretty, but a few bruises were worth not bleeding out. Another round flew in her direction as she dove back behind cover. It barely missed her, and this time she felt the twinge of a bullet dipped in Nightingale’s nullifying goo.

<She’s not always using her special ammo.> Daisy thought as she quickly ripped off the SWAT guy’s belt and made a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. <It makes sense.>

It would take time and effort to coat the bullets and load them into magazines, and time was something she clearly didn’t have as the combined effort of the SWAT teams drove her back.

“Reaper, what the fuck are you doing here!” Hunter darted out of the hallway to take cover next to her.

“Helping.” She answered simply as she checked the shot officer’s pulse.

She couldn’t see the other Hero’s face behind his mask, but she could tell by the tightness in his neck that he was pissed. “Fine.” He ultimately relented. “You already inadvertently helped us. You kept her away from the stairs, and that stopped her upward progression. We’ve got her contained on this floor for now.”

A BOOM way louder than gun fire made the whole building shake and loose pieces of plaster fell from the ceiling.

“Unless she has an exit strategy.” Daisy and Hunter looked at each other for a moment before sprinting back into action.

“Watch him.” Hunter yelled back to the still-advancing SWAT teams, but the two Heroes took the lead. No shots rang out as they approached. “I’ll go high you go low.” Hunter ordered.

Daisy brought up her gun and waited for Hunter to count them down. When he hit zero they burst into the room to find…nothing.

“What the…” there was a large hole in the floor and nothing else in the room.

The two Heroes approached it carefully. Daisy poked her head in and jerked it back quickly to avoid any fire. Nothing came her way, but she got a good look at what was below.

“Shit.” She lowered her weapon and took a deep breath.

Hunter poked his head down and let out a similar curse. Below them were two more holes that lead all the way into the darkness beneath the building.

“She’s in the sewer!” Hunter passed the information along so the cops could expand the perimeter, but that was asking a lot. There had to be a thousand manhole covers in the city, not to mention other outlets. Nightingale could pop up anywhere.

“How did this fucking happen?!” Hunter finished his radio call and then kicked a chair over in anger.

“My guess is that she had military-grade detcord wrapped around her body,” Daisy guessed, but it had been a rhetorical question.

The DVA and cops would do what they could. They’d deploy everyone. Try and secure everything, but Nightingale was a trained operative, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once. Plus, if Nightingale went one on one with a patrol officer at a man hole she’d win.

<At least we’ve got Stal.> Iron Giant had made sure of that.

Daisy just hoped it was enough to get the ball rolling, reacquire Nightingale, find Wraith, figure out what the hell Abney was thinking, and ultimately put a stop to Seif al-Din’s plans.

With everything hanging over her head like this, the upcoming holidays were starting to lose some of their appeal.

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A Change of Pace – Season 2 – Chapter 31

There were two very different conversations going on during the morning of Mr. Morningstar’s funeral; three if you call the political chit-chat a conversation.

“No…no…no…We need more light!” A man cried dramatically on the stage as he looked up at the dark morning sky. “Today just had to be the day the universe decided to not cooperate with me.” He brandished his hands frantically at the clouds blocking out the sun.

The man stomped around the quickly erected stage just in front of the church where the fallen Hero’s private ceremony would be held. The stage was the brainchild of the Mayor. Preapproved people would be allowed to take the stage and use the microphone to tell the gathered crowd what Mr. Morningstar had meant to them, or how he had personally impacted their life. Having a stage meant having a stage manager, and the only one available had been a rather eccentric one from UCF. By the way he was running around and yelling at people you would have thought this was the Olympic opening ceremony.

That was what was happening on the ground. Very different words were being uttered all around the stage.

“Eagle-Two, comms check, over.” The SWAT captain wasn’t standing too far from the stage manager, but he was completely ignoring the other man. Where the stage manager looked like a whirlwind was about to pick him up and carry him off somewhere, the SWAT captain was a mountain of immovable granite with cold eyes scanning the horizon.

“Coms check, TOC, I read you five-by-five.” The sniper three hundred yards away on an overlooking rooftop replied.

“Show me you don’t have your head up your ass, Eagle-Two.” The Captain’s words were threatening, but they implied some sort of punishment the sniper would not enjoy if he wasn’t on the ball.

A second later a red dot appeared on the Captain’s chest. “Stay awake up there, Eagle-Two, the sun decided not to cooperate and I can feel a fall chill in my nuts.”

“That sounds like a personal problem, Cap. You might want to get that checked out.”

“Keep talking, Eagle-Two. I’ll get to you in a second, Eagle-Three.”

“Roger that, Sir.”

Daisy smiled as she took in the world around her with her sixth sense. For half a mile she could feel the life-threads of everyone. This early there weren’t a lot of people, but the number was steadily growing.

<The Mayor’s brilliant idea isn’t going to help.> The last thing the city needed was some grieving single mom talking about how Mr. Morningstar saved her baby to get her head blow off by Wraith mid-sentence.

It also meant overtime for Grace. As the primary telepath on scene, it was her job to vet everyone going up to take the mic.

<We need more bodies.> Daisy came to the same conclusion she had several times today. There were just going to be too many people.

The Mayor’s office was projecting over fifty-thousand people to turn out. To monitor them and keep them safe there were three hundred officers, two SWAT teams, the Protectorate, and half a dozen independent Heroes that were coming in for the occasion. There would be more off-duty Heroes in the church for the private service, but they weren’t there to protect the public. They were there to grieve, but they would help if shit started to slide downhill.

Daisy felt the pressure building in the back of her skull as she tried to keep everything in sight. The pressure would only get stronger when fifty-thousand life-threads needed to be monitored, and the very last thing the DVA, OPD, or the Mayor wanted her to do was drop everyone like she had at the prison. That was a one way ticket to losing her newly-granted certification.

“Minority community turnout is going to be hit or miss.” One of the Mayor’s aides stated from not too far away. “Polls show that they like the Protectorate overall, but of their members, Mr. Morningstar was their least favorite.”

“He was from an older generation and he didn’t really care about connecting with the community as much. I have reassurances from KaBoom that the team is willing to work in a new direction under his leadership.” Orlando’s mayor, Thaddeus Miller, was a former defensive tackle for the Miami Dolphins. He’d gone to UCF before sending twelve seasons in the NFL, and then going into politics. He’d started off with city council, was now the mayor, and insiders thought he had his eye on Congress or even the Governor’s Mansion in the next four years. He was a big man, with a shaved bald head that was shined daily. Even in the low light of the morning there was a slight gleam coming off the man’s brown dome. There was just as much of a gleam coming off of his perfectly-white teeth, and those were always on display in a smile. His life as a four-time pro-bowler had prepared him perfectly for politics.

“What about…” the aide didn’t say it, but that was enough confirmation for Daisy.

She was an unknown in this political situation. With something that was so going to be so public, politicians tended to not like unknowns; especially wildcards, and every report the Mayor was reading on her said she was unpredictable.

<I’m right here, dumbasses,> she bit her tongue. Her job right now was to literally step in front of a bullet if someone took a shot at the political leader of the city, and all they were worried about was what she would say when confronted by cameras. <There were some things about this job that I did not miss.>

<Easy there,> Grace’s voice popped in the back of her head. <Thad is actually a pretty good guy when you get to know him.>

<Thad?> Daisy’s eyes never stopped scanning the windows surrounding the stage. <And just how well have you gotten to know him?>

Daisy didn’t get a response, but a mental impression of a giant middle finger was answer enough. She suppressed her smile and continued to do her job.   

“Ms. Reaper,” the Mayor abandoned his little chat and walked over to her.

“Please just Reaper, Mr. Mayor. Ms. Reaper makes me sound like I should be on the Halloween version of a syrup container.” She accepted the Mayor’s handshake and didn’t know if he was doing the macho squeeze thing or not. She was on absorb-mode for all kinetic energy.

He barked a short laugh, gave an up and down shake and then let go. “Reaper it is then. I just wanted to welcome you to our fair city and thank you for everything you are doing today and going to do in the future.”

“Wrangling for my vote already, Mr. Mayor. Reelection isn’t for another eighteen months.” Daisy had a habit of sticking her foot in her mouth, especially when her attention was elsewhere, but in this particular instance she could really care less.

The Mayor followed the comment with a much longer laugh. “You can never start too early, Reaper.” The big guy’s smile was a bit startling. “Good luck today.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor.” That was all the time he had to talk to her, but she shadowed him until he was in the armored SUV and headed back toward his office. That was where her assignment ended. “Dispatch, he’s on his way out.”

“Thank you, Reaper.” The computer-synthesized voice of Dispatch hadn’t changed at all since the first time to support Hero came on the scene more than a decade ago. “You are relieved of your duties. Next assignments begin at twelve-hundred hours. You are free until then.”

“Thanks for the break.” Daisy didn’t take the earbud out, but she did pull out her phone and make another call. “Hey, baby, you want to grab a quick breakfast before we get sucked into this black hole of a protection detail for the rest of the day?”

 

***

 

“Damn, it’s freezing.”

Becca looked at the Floridian out of the corner of her eye and couldn’t help but smirk. It was low sixties – maybe high fifties – and the woman was acting like it was an ice age. Coming from the Midwest, where wind chill could drop the temperature fifteen or twenty degrees during the winter, this was nothing. All of her friends seemed to be thinking the same way.

Mason was used to New York, Kyoshi hailed from San Francisco – which wasn’t as warm as people thought – and Anika’s family had spent a lot of time in Montana only to recently move to the Midwest. This weather was nothing.

The residual body heat of everyone present would set in eventually. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of people crammed on the sideways of the major roadway. In front of them was a line of police officers spaced every twenty feet. They were all in their dress uniforms: crisply ironed pants, a jacket with medals and badges pinned to it, and white gloves. They looked every inch the competent police force, and that was only highlighted by the weapons on their hips. Every third officer also had an assault rifle slung over their shoulder. Their eyes were scanning the crowd religiously. Just like the HCP students in the crowd, the officers were aware of the high threat level of this ceremony.

The civilians were blissfully unaware aside from a few questions about the cops’ guns. Not everyone liked the sight of such a heavily armed force. Becca kept her eyes forward and was grateful for them. If things turned bad, then they were going to need all the firepower they could get.

“Stop looking around,” Kyoshi whispered as Mason’s head seemed to be in a nonstop three-hundred-and-sixty-degree scan.

“Can’t help it,” the strongman grunted. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

All of them had the feeling. There were just too many chances for something to go wrong. There were too many windows, too many rooftops, and too many shadowy corners where threats could suddenly appear. It was the eternal pain of dealing with teleporters. They were all thankful Professor Meyers was here.

A drum could be heard in the distance. The beat was a solemn march. Becca knew from the safety briefing that the drummer was at the lead of a small contingent of officers and Heroes accompanying the casket of Mr. Morningstar. The casket was being pulled by a horse through the crowd-lined streets to the church where the private ceremony would be, and the politicians would be saying a few words.

“Shhh.” Becca shushed the both of them. This wasn’t a time to be talking. This was a time to be remembering and thanking the fallen Hero for his service.

 

***

 

“I can’t see.” Isla was cranky, and the six-plus-foot guy standing in front of her wasn’t helping.

A group of the freshmen HCP students were standing together at a safe distance from their HCP classmates. Professor McMillian had told them to spread out, but still travel in at least pairs. They needed to be vigilant about safety without drawing attention to themselves. The SI infraction rules were still in effect. If anything happened, the professors wanted them to run for safety.

“Let the Heroes handle it.” McMillian had said that at least a dozen times in their safety briefing.

“Sorry.” Aiden stepped aside so Isla could get a better view, but there was still a random woman in front of him that was taller than Isla’s unimpressive five feet two inches.

The drumming was growing closer, so they wouldn’t be staying for much longer. It was physically impossible for them to get any closer to the church and speaking area. They were nearly a mile away and packed into the sidewalks like sardines. They expected things to break up quickly once Mr. Morningstar’s funeral procession passed. The town had the afternoon off, and once people paid their respects they were planning to take advantage of the slightly longer weekend.

“Most of these people don’t care.” Scarlett Vaan stood with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. “Most people are more interested in the time off then what happened. They want to forget about it, push it into the past, and move on.” She just shrugged when the younger freshman shot her shocked expressions.

“Most people like to avoid conflict,” she looked Isla straight in the eyes. “They feel they need to be here, but unless Mr. Morningstar directly touched their lives in some way their feelings for him and his death are only skin deep.”

“That’s a sad way to look at people. Psychology is giving you a jaded look on life.” Aiden shot her a warning look over his shoulder. The silver-haired woman was drawing some attention with her statements.

“Yeah…it’s the psychology.” Scarlett raised an eyebrow, but the drumming was almost on top of them now.

Everyone shut up and turned to face the procession. Whatever people thought about the situation, or the people involved, they all felt a certain way about death. It was only human to pay some sort of respect to the fallen, and whatever their feelings about humanity, they could do at least that.

It took a few minutes for the procession to pass at a slow march. Once it was a respectful distance away people started to get out of there. Scarlett led the charge. Isla stuck around a little longer as people streamed around her. There was something in the air that had the hair on the back of her neck standing up. She didn’t know if it was the circumstances, the HCP, or what was going on in her not-so-personal life, but the sensation was there.

If felt like something was watching and judging her and the city or Orlando. Her shiver had nothing to do with the cool breeze blowing through the city as she turned to leave.

 

***

 

“Do you still have eyes on Reaper?” Lilly was in her Wraith heavy-combat load.

Her costume, armor, pistols, knives, grenades, assault rifle, and sniper rifle were either on her person or strewn on the rooftop around her. They were over a mile away from the stage that had been constructed. It was way beyond her range to take out someone important – like the mayor – but it would serve as a staging area. She wasn’t going to pull armaments from her little bunker out west when Hunter would undoubtedly be on scene, so she’d hauled all of the stuff here, and set up booby traps for anyone who tried to take the roof by force.

“We have eyes on her near the stage.” Nano informed over the encrypted earbud the assault team was wearing.

Stal and Nightingale were on the rooftop next to Wraith getting set.

“Why does that matter? We have armor.” Stal announced patting the black, nullifying armor they were all wearing.

“It matters because the armor isn’t perfect. Belial still got taken down.” Wraith snapped back. Her nerves were on edge. The list of Heroes at this powder keg was a who’s who of people that wanted to kill her. “And some can easily target something next to us and kill me or Nightingale. We don’t have your durability.” Wraith was specifically thinking about Seraphim.

The bitch had it out for her despite the ass whooping she’d delivered during their last meeting.

“Fine.” Stal harrumphed. She didn’t pick up any weapons. Her hands and feet were WMDs, especially in a crowded place like this.

“We go in five minutes.” The procession had just begun. “Is she going to be ready?”

“She’ll be ready.” Wraith referred to the missing member of their little team. Morina had a different mission, and she was almost in position.

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A Change of Pace – Season 2 – Chapter 27

The whispering was everywhere, but that was to be expected after a tragedy. Everyone had their own idea about what happened until the record got set straight. This one was easy to get the facts on because it had happened on live TV, but that didn’t stop the speculation. Why was the biggest question. Why did a notorious criminal who’d just broken out of prison go back to that prison and facilitate a jailbreak? Then, why did she go and get into a fight with Mr. Morningstar and kill him? Isla didn’t have any idea why any of it happened, but that didn’t stop the whispers.

The people above ground were speculative and general. None were directed at her. People were just wondering out loud – sometimes with puffy, red eyes and mascara smudges – why someone would kill their city’s Hero team leader. Mr. Morningstar was well liked in Orlando, and he’d been a staple of the community for over thirty years.

Below ground, in the corridors of the HCP, things were different. The questions were still the same, but the whispers had a focus. Word had spread through the students about her and Seth. It had been blown out of proportion and was flat out wrong in most circumstances, but the rumor mill was churning away, and once that started there was no going back. So, when Isla was making her way from her Ethics class to physical training there were whispers and sideways glances in her direction.

No one came right out and said anything but the implication was there…until she reached the locker room.

“So, I heard you’re banging the guy whose ex-girlfriend killed a Hero.” Martina, the resident strongwoman with a supermodel’s looks and body, broke the tension.

Isla turned around and looked right in the taller girl’s eyes. “You heard wrong.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the locker room.

Martina wasn’t exactly a bully. It was hard to be a bully when everyone in the room had superpowers and was training to fight, but she did throw her weight around. A lot of that weight was in her boobs, and even Super girls were still girls. Insecurities about looks affected them as much, if not more, than normal humans.

“Come on, Perko, give us the details.” Martina’s smile was aggressive. She wanted the scoop on this.

“There isn’t much to tell.” Isla shrugged and continued pulling on her black uniform. “I’ve talked to Seth Abney a couple of times and run into him around campus. It’s easier than you’d think. He’s a good guy that’s been put in a shitty situation. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He just hung out with the wrong person.”

Another round of whispers filled the room before Martina’s glare silenced them. “That’s not what I heard.”

“I really don’t care what you heard. That’s all that I know.” Isla zipped up her uniform and headed for the door.

“I heard he let that girl down here into the HCP, and since she’s a teleporter she could appear here at any second if she wanted to. I heard from another sophomore that Abney is a drunk. I heard he knew Wraith was a villain and was still boning her regularly. I heard…”

Isla was sick and tired of hearing what Martina heard. She knew Seth better than any of these stupid bitches and she was sick and tired of people shitting on him all the time. It was that constant barrage of crap that was keeping him down in the first place. If people would give him a hand, or just lay off him, she was sure he’d be back on his feet in no time at all.

Isla always had a motherly instinct, and it had nothing to do with wanting to have children. She was usually the only Super in the orphanage and that brought with it a lot of crap. Kids could be real assholes sometimes, so she had to protect her friends. She wouldn’t say that was where all of her fighting experience came from, but that was certainly where it started.

Her vision tinged pinkish-blue as her aura activated and she turned to face Martina. The other girl’s reaction was a smug smile. Getting that kind of physical reaction out of Isla was what she was looking for. She didn’t care though. She was just pissed, and she caught the slight hesitation on Martina’s face.

The strongwoman was ranked seventh in the class after the initial combat rankings, but that was still four places behind Isla, and Isla knew that.

“Hey relax, Perko,” she held up her hands in a non-threatening manner. “I’m just telling you what I heard. Don’t get bent out of shape.”

Isla looked around and knew the other girl had won. Every other girl in the room was looking at her like she had three heads. She’d overreacted, overplayed her hand, and now everyone who was on the fence about her and Seth knew there was something up. It was even more frustrating that there wasn’t anything between her and Seth. This would be entirely different if they were an item, but right now she was standing up for a friend, not a boyfriend.

The thought only made her more irritated. She dismissed the aura. The normal peaceful feeling that overcame her when she activated her power was noticeably absent this time, but she didn’t think about it. She pushed through the doors of the locker room and into the gym. She knocked out her pull-ups with gusto. She had a lot of pent up energy and she needed an outlet. Thankfully, this was the place to do it.

“What’s eating at you, Perko?” Coach Meyers looked worn out. There were dark circles under her eyes and she didn’t have that overbearing presence at the moment.

“Nothing,” she lied. The coach sat there waiting for more, but Isla didn’t elaborate.

“Fine, hit the track. If you don’t want to talk about it then work it out of your system.”

She was more than willing to comply. She hit the track at a steady jog and did a mile waiting for the rest of the class. When they exited the locker room, all the girls were gathered around Martina and talking rapidly.

<It’s high school all over again.> She groaned as she slowed down to join the class.

“You good?” Aiden Murphey asked her. She’d talked with the big, tattooed guy a few times before.

“Fine.” She repeated the answer she’d given Coach Meyers.

Unlike the Alternative Instructor, Aiden didn’t pry. He didn’t have time.

“You know the drill, people. Five miles, GO!” Coach McMillian shouted.

Isla took a second look at the instructor’s worn down looks before she was buffeted by nearly fifty students jockeying for position on the track. She focused on that task.

<One thing at a time.>

Thanks to her strength, Martina easily pulled ahead, but that gave Isla a goal to chase.

It ended up being her fastest five-mile run ever.

 

***

 

Becca zipped through the halls to get where she needed to go fast. Anika was right behind her. The still-unclassified Super was getting faster and faster. She could crack a hundred miles an hour now, but that was nothing compared to the natural speedster. Becca could consistently run faster than the speed of sound. She wasn’t anywhere near the proficiency of Coach McMillian, but maybe one day she would be.

The rubber of her shoes screeched as she pumped the breaks and left a bit of a black streak on the normally spotless floors. By the time the class let out she was waiting by the door with her hands on her hips and a forceful look on her face.

A shadow fell over her as Mason squeezed through the door. It was funny to see the defensive step backward he took when he saw Becca standing there.

“Hey, Becca, just…” he tried to get a few words in.

“Move!” She waved her hand in a shooing motion. She would never be able to move the strongman with force, but she could use her personality just as effectively.

With a sight, Mason stepped aside and Seth stepped out. He didn’t seem concerned in the slightest, and didn’t give Becca more than a passing glance before trying to move off to the side.

“Oh no you don’t.” The blue-haired speedster easily got in front of him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“My next class, just like you should be doing.” Seth’s face was expressionless.

Becca’s nostrils flared in genuine anger, but she got control of herself. “I will. I just wanted to make sure my friend was ok. You know my friend, Seth. His apartment burned down. I didn’t hear about it until an hour ago when some freshmen were talking about it.” Her face flushed and she started talking faster. “I mean, friends usually tell friends when something as bad as a fire happens, because friends are there for each other. For example, they would give their friend a place to say if…I don’t know…there was an apartment fire. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe my views on friendship are different, but I’d tell my friends if something bad happened. How about you, Mason? Would you tell your friends if something like that happened?”

“Becca.” Mason looked back and forth between her and Seth. “I really don’t think…”

“That’s the problem with men. You don’t think!” She yelled the last bit and only calmed down when Anika placed her hand on her shoulder.

“You were kind of a douche, Seth.” She summed it up succinctly. “Make sure you at least give your friends a heads-up with what’s going on with you every couple of days so we don’t come looking.”

“Fine. Can I go?”

Becca was clearly not talking to him anymore, so Mason took over. “Yeah. See you later, buddy.”

As Seth walked away, Becca turned her anger on the big strongman. Words came out with machine-gun-like velocity and were impossible to understand. He got the gist though.

“We need to be patient with him.” Mason stood by what he believed despite the onslaught. “If we start piling on him, we’re going to push him away and who knows what will happen.”

“I tell you what will happen. We’ll knock some sense into that thick skull of his.” Becca was sulking now that her anger was spent.

“It’s more likely we’ll push him away and lose him forever. You don’t want that do you?” Mason gave her a patient look.

“No,” Becca sighed, but Anika remained silent.

Mason knew Becca’s girlfriend didn’t care about what Seth’s self-destructive behaviors caused. As long as it didn’t blow back on her or Becca she was ok with whatever he did. In terms of friendship, Mason was pretty sure Seth had lost hers when his girlfriend kidnapped her.

“We’ve all got class and then team practice. I’ll try and get more info from him, but I’ve got to do it slowly and carefully. I’ll talk to you at dinner.” Mason gave the two women a final smile before lumbering away.

Anika squeezed Becca’s shoulder comfortingly as Mason walked away. She might not care for Seth all that much anymore, but she cared about her girlfriend’s feelings, and didn’t like to see her hurting.

“It’ll be ok,” she tried to comfort Becca.

Becca just took a deep breath, sighed, took Anika’s hand in hers, and led the way down the hall toward their next class.

 

***

 

Seth walked away simmering. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Becca butting into his life. It felt like the closer his friend got to Anika the farther she’d drifted from him in the last few months. Intellectually, he acknowledged that he wasn’t pulling his weight in the friendship, but coupled with everything else it still felt like she was jumping ship with everyone else.

<Stop stepping on my dick.> He mentally mumbled as he traversed the corridors to his next class.

He wasn’t looking forward to it. With everything that had happened he hadn’t done his assignment. He wouldn’t get yelled at. That’s not how Professor Livingston worked, but she would give him twice as much work next time. She’d keep piling it on until he either caught up or quit because that was how real life was. The shit didn’t stop flowing because you were having a bad day.

<At least Mason was cool about it.> The strongman had sat down next to him in class, asked if everything was ok, accepted his answer, and then left the topic alone.

They’d talked about more important things. Like the upcoming funeral for Mr. Morningstar – the Dean would be giving out more information soon if anyone wanted to attend. They’d keep a low profile and not tip everyone off that future Heroes were in the house, but a lot of the students still wanted to show their respect for the dead leader.

Seth wasn’t sure if he was going or not. What was he going to say? <Sorry that my ex kicked your ass and shot you in the fucking face.> There wasn’t really any good way to think about it, and thinking about it sent the dagger of pain into his heart again.

He was angry. He was so monumentally pissed off, and it had nothing to do with Becca. It was the scalding sting of betrayal that bubbled into rage. Lilly hadn’t just broken her promise to him, but she hadn’t even lasted a day, <and it was on national TV!> He felt his temper start to spike so he took some deep breaths and thought about something else. It was tough. There wasn’t much else on his mind today.

“Mr. Abney.” Dean Ditmar appeared out of nowhere. It made Seth jump until he noticed that they’d just passed a t-intersection and the Dean merely veered to his side. “If you would follow me please.”

The Dean’s tone was polite but firm, which meant this shouldn’t be mistaken for anything less than an order. Seth was going with the Dean whether he liked it or not.

“Sure.” Seth tried not to let his unease creep into his voice, but it was hard not to. Since the Dean didn’t directly teach them anymore, a trip to his office was never a good sign. It felt like he was being called to the Headmaster’s office for sneaking into the girls’ dormitory.

“Please sit.” Nothing in the office had changed from the last time Seth had been in it, but this time it was just the two of them. “Would you like coffee, soda or water?” The Dean offered.

The caffeine from the coffee could have helped with the perpetual hangover Seth seemed to be dealing with during the weekdays, but he didn’t want to be any more dehydrated than he was before team practice later.

“Water please.”

The Dean dutifully handed him a chilled bottle from a mini-fridge before taking a seat behind his desk. There were stacks of paper nearly a foot tall waiting for him to review, but he placed them aside to look directly at Seth. He did pull out one folder and set it between them.

“Seth,” he began gravely, “I’ve been forwarded the police report and charges against you from the Orlando PD.”

“That was fast,” the words slipped out before Seth could stop them. “I mean…I’m surprised they are that concerned about a little misunderstanding. I’m taking care of the issue,” he attempted to recover.

“I’m well aware of your lawyer’s efforts and the agreement reached with the victim,” the way the Dean said victim didn’t bode well for the rest of the conversation. “But it’s not the outcome I’m worried about. It’s why it happened in the first place.”

“I honestly don’t know.” Seth replied truthfully. “One second I was on the couch watching the TV, and the next I was in the hallway and the guy was on the ground in front of me. I smelled smoke, picked him up, and ran for the exit.”

“Those instincts to save the man were good, but he wouldn’t have needed saving in the first place if you hadn’t beaten him.” The Dean’s eyes were hard and locked on Seth when the click of the door opening behind them broke the tense moment.

“Professor Livingston.” The Dean smiled as he broke eye contact. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Of course,” the Focus Professor looked tired but she didn’t act that way. “What can I do?”

“With Mr. Abney’s consent I would like you to search his mind for the missing pieces of his memory. As a Super, our greatest talent of all is the ability to control our powers. That is what separates us from the Powereds, and what allows us to be the Heroes society needs to protect the innocent. We need to figure out why and how you lost control.” It was a logical and straightforward request, but it immediately set off alarm bells in Seth’s mind.

Professor Livingston must have felt something, because she turned to look at him with a frown.

“No need to read my mind.” Seth shrugged and tried to play it all off like it was nothing. “I was pissed about Liz,” he was careful to use her old name, “and I was pissed about everything that happened. I just lost control and lashed out. There’s nothing more to it.”

He didn’t think they’d buy it, and he was right.

“I’d still like Professor Livingston to take a look,” the Dean insisted.

“I’d rather not.” Seth committed to his refusal. There was too much shit in his mind that could get him in even deeper shit. He couldn’t risk it.

“Mr. Abney…”

“No.” Seth said a little more forcefully. “You need my consent to fumble about in my head and I’m not giving it to you. Do I need to call my lawyer?”

The Dean sat back and regarded Seth with steady eyes. “That will not be necessary, Seth.” The use of his first name should have been the first warning side. “But until we have a better idea of the cause and effect that triggered this outburst, I cannot allow you to continue to train with your fellow classmates. Until the HCP’s investigation is concluded you will be put on probation.”

<What the fuck does that mean?!>

“You will continue to train on your own, and have complete access to HCP facilities. You will continue to attend class, but any exercises that involve the use of your ability will not be allowed unless you are alone and an instructor is present.”

“How am I supposed to participate in the team events?”

“You will not.” The response cut Seth to the bone. “My primary responsibility is the safety of this school and its students. Until we know for certain what happened I will not put them or this facility in danger. You are very powerful, Seth, and you could do a lot of damage if you lose control like that again.”

<The fucker is railroading me. He’s benching me until he gets someone to root around in my head.> Seth saw what was happening, and he had begrudging respect for the Dean. <He even played the safety of the students card.> After the attack on Lander no lawyer was going to try and fight that type of injunction. The Dean had successfully maneuvered Seth into a corner, and for him there was only one option.

“Fine.” Seth agreed and got to his feet. “May I go? I’m late for class.” Since it was Professor Livingston’s class, it wasn’t a big deal.

“One last thing.” The Dean held up his hand to forestall Seth getting up and storming out. “Any violation of this probation will result in you being expelled from the HCP. Your memory will be wiped and you will more than likely be asked to leave West Private University. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Seth replied as he got to his feet. “Should I tell the class you’ll be a little late?” He asked Professor Livingston since she wasn’t moving to leave.

“Tell them I’ll be there in a minute.” She continued to study him, but there wasn’t any tingling sensation in his mind that said she was violating the law by digging for information without his consent.

“Ok.” He opened the door, and put something solid between himself and the two older Supers.

<Not sure how this day could get any worse?>

A few hours later he’d figure out it could when he got back above ground, checked his phone, and saw he had a voicemail from a blocked number. The only person who’d be calling him from a blocked number was a certain teleporter who he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to talk to again. Even if he wanted to it would have to wait. His DVA tail was waiting for him in the lobby of the student’s center. He didn’t have a home to go home to since the fire damage was still being repaired, so he called an Uber and headed to a hotel. He didn’t feel like crashing on anybody’s sofa tonight.

Previous                                           Next

A Change of Pace – Season 2 – Chapter 11

Lilly ran. She ran like her life depended on it – which it did. She’d found a grocery store only a few blocks from where she’d hung up with Armsman and Nano. She’d barely come to a stop when she threw open the door and charged through the front door. She nearly took out the cart boy and people at the checkout aisle screamed when she tore past them.

She was still wearing the white prisoners outfit. It might not be the florescent orange that people always thought prisoners wore, but it was close enough. The writing all over the fabric denoting she was a criminal didn’t help.

She knew the staff and customers were pulling out their cell phones and calling the cops, so she had to hurry, and that wasn’t even the most pressing reason. Any second now the feds could regain control of her collar and decide they wanted her dead rather than alive. All there would be was a little poof and pink mist would be all that remained of her head.

Since her head was absolutely gorgeous and held a first-class brain, she was doing everything she could to avoid that. Including cornering some dude with his face in his phone and oblivious to what was going on around him.

“ALUMINIUM?!” She yelled as she approached.

“Aisle twelve.” He didn’t even pick his head up.

<Kids these days.> She smiled as she rushed past him and down aisle twelve.

Since she wasn’t buying she grabbed the name brand stuff. She tore the box open and tugged an arm-length piece of the metal sheet. A quick rip and she started to wrap it around the device on her neck. Most of the collar was just a fabric that had gotten itchier and itchier the longer she wore it. The piece that mattered was a box-like thing just to the side of her throat.

She sucked it in so she could get the metal between her throat and the box to completely wrap it up. Once she had it entirely covered she squeezed and scrunched it down. It conformed to the box, and she was sure it wouldn’t move. Just to be safe she wasted valuable seconds tearing off two more sheets and tripling the effective layer that was the only thing separating her from literally losing her head.

<That was too close.> She took ten seconds and just breathed. This was the closest she’d been to true freedom in months. <Keep moving.>

If the cops weren’t there yet they would be soon.

She ran back down the aisle the way she’d come. The kid was still there on his phone, not a care in the world.

“Excuse me.” She purred.

The sound of her voice perked the male’s brain and he finally picked his head up to look at her. She punched him right between the eyes, broke his nose, and knocked his ass to the ground. His head bounced off the semi-polished linoleum and knocked him out cold.

She had a witty line about actually initiating human contact instead of cyber sexting someone, but it would fall on deaf ears. Either way, she still stole his phone and sprinted toward the back of the store. She got yelled at by the dude in charge of the loading dock, but she didn’t give a shit. She bought herself at least another few minutes of freedom.

She heard the sirens in the distance. She activated the map function on the iPhone she’d stolen and planned a route to the address she’d been given. She stuck to the back alleys as long as she could, until she got to her first waypoint. It was a small clothing shop with a cool logo that looked like it catered to the city’s younger crowd.

She repeated what she’d done earlier. She made ingress from the back, surprised the store owner who was doing inventory in the rear. She knocked her the fuck out and hid the body. She quickly brushed through the clothes on the racks which were thankfully arranged by size.

<There’s some super cute stuff here.> She needed to make a note of this place for the future.

She ended up keeping it simple. A pair of jeans, a blouse, and a light coat since it was a little colder at the higher elevations than in Florida. It also zipped all the way up and hid the aluminum without looking to conspicuous. She also grabbed a pair of sunglasses and a big floppy hat. She pulled her hair up and hid it. Since the cops always used hair color and what the subject was wearing in their description she’d eliminated two of the five criteria. She couldn’t change being a five-eight white woman, at least not with the time she had.

She exited back through the rear and went a few more blocks before emerging on the street. She rounded the corner like she belonged there and joined the crowd. People were a little jittery and looking around with all the police activity. Half had their faces buried in their phones watching what was unfolding in real-time. Sirens blared as a trio of cop cars streaked past them and stopped at the intersection they’d just passed. They used their vehicles as a blocking mechanism and stopped people trying to cross.

“What’s happening?” She slid closer to another woman walking away from the hastily established checkpoint.

The woman gave her a look that screamed “you’re a clueless bimbo”, but sighed and answered. “Some prisoner escaped. They’re locking down the city which means traffic is going to be a bitch.”

The woman was looking right at Lilly and didn’t see the resemblance to picture the police had released to the public.

<If that’s not a round of applause for a good disguise then I don’t know what is.> She thought.

“Oh my god.” Lilly brought her hand to her mouth. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah.”

That was where the conversation ended. The woman went one way and Lilly went another. She watched her go for a second to make sure she didn’t look back and call the cops, but the other woman was too engrossed with the pain in the ass that traveling out of the city would be to notice the person they were looking for had walked beside her for two blocks.

<God bless America and its technological addiction.> She smiled to herself as she kept walking.

She’d left the checkpoint far behind and from there it has a short walk to the address. The address in question was an upscale apartment building. Apartment number seven was the one listed on the first text she’d gotten, so she hit the button.

“Yeah?” Mika’s young voice was nervous.

“Guess who?” She smiled when the young villain squealed with delight.

There was a soft buzz and the door unlocked. She pushed it open and secured it behind herself before heading for the stairs. Apartment seven was on the second floor. She only had to knock once before it was thrown open and her uncle stood in the doorway.

“Took you long enough.” The words were harsh, but they were undercut by the grin on his face.

“I had to accessorize on my way over.” She stuck her nose in the air and returned the grin. “Thanks for coming back for me.”

“What else is family for? At a minimum, they’ve got to be ready to risk life in prison to save their own.”

They weren’t blood related, but they might as well be after all the shit they’d been through together. She showed that by stepping in and giving him a big hug. The move surprised him, but eventually he wrapped her up and gave her a few pats on the back.

“I know it sucks.” He awkwardly tried to soothe her.

He knew what she was thinking. Armsman had spent a few days in a holding cell once before. It had been Hellgate that rescued him, but he knew what was going through her head. Life in a small box wasn’t a life at all, and there was no way in heaven or hell she was ever going back. The next time the Heroes tried to take her in they better be ready to kill.

“Yeah, it blows donkey dick.” Lilly sniffed and wiped a tear from her cheek. She looked at it like it was an annoying bug before turning to Mika. “And where’s my other knight in shining armor.”

The armor looked more like a computer motherboard, but the teenager’s smile sure did shine when she addressed him.

“It’s nothing.” He blushed. “Plus, my job ain’t done yet. I’ve got to get that off of you.” He gestured for her to take a seat.

Mika went to work like a surgeon while Armsman stood guard by the door. They all knew this was the most vulnerable part of the operation. They were stationary, a target, and all it took was one Hero to come through the wall to ruin the whole plan. Of course, that Hero would have to face one of the most legendary villains of all time, but it was still something they’d rather avoid. In this city, Heroes tended to travel in teams.

The buzz of someone hitting the button made everyone jump. Mika nearly triggered the bomb and killed Lilly right then and there. He took a step back from her, hands shaking and sweat dripping from his brow, while Armsman answered the buzz.

“It’s me, open up…hurry!”

Surprisingly, her uncle hit the admittance button and a few minutes later there was a knock at the door. Mika nodded that it was all clear. She thought he probably had cameras watching the apartment from every angle.

The door opened and the guard who’d jumped Reggie stood in the hallway. He was bruised and bleeding, but he was alive.

“Thanks.” He looked around the room and saw Mika getting back to work on the collar. “Good, she made it.” He turned to Armsman, puffing up slightly with importance. “I delivered on my end. She’s here and she’s safe. I fucked my entire life over to do it, so where’s my money.”

“You didn’t have much of a life to fuck up, Mr. Kowalski.” Armsman looked the guard directly in the eye. “But a deal is a deal.” He walked into the apartment’s second bedroom and retrieved a large duffle bag full of cash.

That was something the movies frequently got wrong. Giving someone a shit ton of money, especially note in small denominations, took up a lot of space. A million dollars in fives, tens, twenties, and some hundreds didn’t fit into a briefcase. So, ten million sure as hell didn’t.

“Feel free to count it, but I don’t think we’ll have the time.” Armsman sounded pleasant enough, but Lilly knew her uncle. There was a dangerous undercurrent in his voice that the guard was oblivious to.

She saw what happened next play out in slow motion about a second and a half before it actually did.

The guard took his eyes of Armsman to check the money. That was mistake number one of a criminal transaction of this magnitude. You never took your eyes off the other guy, especially when you were alone. Once the guard’s eyes were averted, Armsman sword slid out of its sheath with practiced, soundless precision. By the time the guard looked up again the blade was already halfway through his neck. The cut was clean and her uncle made it look effortless. The head even stayed in place for a few seconds before sliding off and landed with a wet thud.

That’s when things got messy and blood started to squirt everywhere, but by then Armsman had already yanked the bag of cash away and zipped it up.

“Moron.” Lilly didn’t even give the squirting body a second look.

“That should do it.” Mika announced triumphantly.

There was a popping sound and the collar disengaged from Lilly’s neck. Mika removed it carefully, ensured it was still wrapped in the aluminum, and took it into the bathroom. They’d leave it for whoever came to find them.

When Mika was out of the room Armsman looked at Lilly and then toward the bathroom. The question was clear. <Do we kill him now?>

Lilly shook her head. <Nope he gets to live. He’s useful. He’s pretty close to family now.>

She knew it wasn’t in the way Mika wanted. He’d become the little brother she never had, and only vaguely wanted to kill at times. He wanted romance and she wanted a technopath to get shit done. She was getting her way – again.

“It looks like we’re done here.”

“And not a moment too soon.” Mika reappeared from the bathroom with a panicked look on his face. “They traced us here.” He pointed at Lilly.

“Doesn’t matter.” She was a little pissed about being found so quickly, but that didn’t matter now. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“That sounds retarded.” Armsman gathered the bag of cash at his own pace and walked over to her. “Who wants to blow up a popsicle stand? Do they even have those anymore?”

“It’s a figure of speech.” Lilly rolled her eyes.

<You’re so old.> She thought as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You get it, don’t you Mika?” She batted her eyelashes at the technopath, and he immediately agreed.

<I’ve still got it.> She smiled to herself and reached for her power for the first time in months.

It was sitting there and waiting like an old friend. Shadow embraced the three of them, wrapped them in a cocoon of comfort, and started to take them away. But there was something different this time. The shadows had always submitted to her. She’d never had a problem with teleporting any distance…ever, but she sensed a subtly change. Now, the shadows seemed docile. Like a dog sitting patiently waiting for a command and the treat that would inevitably follow.

It was a little unsettling how the blackness reacted to her using her power again for the first time, but muscle memory took hold and she whisked the three of them away to a foreign location where the Heroes wouldn’t be able to follow.

It was a good thing too, because the last view of the apartment was of the wall exploding and no less than four Heroes busting through.

Despite what the DVA might want the public to think, it was nearly impossible to trap teleporters like her. You could do it with a collar like the one she’d been wearing, or you could build tech genius dampeners into buildings, but those cost an arm, a leg, and a head, and your firstborn child. But the idea that you could trap a teleporter in a location with some type of generator was pure science fiction.

All of that meant that all the Heroes got to see was blackness exploding out from the three villains while Lilly was giving them the finger before she was gone.

Armsman had it right. There was no way in heaven or hell she was ever going back.

 

***

 

Aiden watched the board closely to see who he was facing next. He’d gotten through the first round easy enough. His opponent had been overly cautious and a quick, brutal attack had knocked them out before they could even use their power on him.

Being cautious was fine. In general, Aiden thought of himself as a pretty cautious guy, but when he stepped into those cells he knew what to do. He stopped overthinking things, got out of his own way, and took action. To him, that was what a Hero was: a person that took action when others needed it the most.

Aiden knew better than most about action and inaction. If you lacked the drive to do something in his family you didn’t eat. It wasn’t from lack of food or parental cruelty. It was sibling cruelty, you needed to move quick to get the food on your plate or it would be gone.

Aiden was the youngest of four, and at six-five he was the runt of the litter. His mother had played division one basketball in college before graduating, marrying his father, and becoming a florist. She was a Super, had vividly green hair, and her power revolved around nurturing nature. It wasn’t especially strong, but it was enough to make her business thrive in a place like suburban Utah.

Aiden’s father was the Hero in the family. He’d gone to Lander and done twelve years on the job before going into early retirement. They hadn’t had their first child until after he retired, and even now he didn’t talk about his time in costume too much. If Aiden was being honest with himself, part of the reason he was here was to see what his father had seen. The older Super wasn’t great at communication and Aiden wanted to know what had made him that way.

<Dad was a Hero?> He remembered the day he found out that the mild-mannered guy who worked in the back of the family flower shop had kicked ass back in the day. It just didn’t fit.

Now, Aiden was here to see what it was all about.

Of his four siblings, he was the only one to follow in his father’s footsteps. His oldest brother was a light absorber and environmental lawyer. The extent of his abilities was funneling the stored energy he had into a state of the art generator. On the bright side his family never had to pay for electricity. The second oldest was the closest to their mother in ability, but he’d gone the route of scientist. He studied plants, which Aiden thought had to be the most boring job in the world. It was even weirder because his second oldest brother looked like a lumberjack who could enter the world’s strongest man competition.

<And he spends all day bent over a microscope or out in a field studying weeds.> There was only one type of weed that Aiden thought was worth studying.

Aiden’s only sister was the one closest to him in age and she was a powered. In the grand scheme of things her illness was relatively mild, and she lived a pretty good life. The power she could control was the ability to spontaneously age organic material. If she was touching a cutting board and her power activated, it warped, became discolored, and crumbled if she touched it long enough. Thankfully, the problem was localized to her hands, and was easily fixed by a pair of gloves one of their father’s old friends developed just for her.

That was good, because Aiden’s big sister – she was six-six – was the one who’d always grabbed that extra piece of chicken for him when everyone mobbed the table at dinnertime. She was also the one who supported him the most. His mother was worried sick, his brothers thought he was crazy, and he didn’t know what his father thought. The former Hero had just nodded when Aiden got his acceptance letter and moved across the country to Florida for school.

<Forget about him. Focus.> Aiden shook his head and concentrated on the task in front of him. The board had updated for round two and he had a location. He got there was quickly as possible, and was joined there less than a minute later.

<Izzy Perko.> He’d assigned himself the task of knowing the name and power of everyone in his class before the first week was up. He knew her name but not her power.

Izzy was cute, but she was too small and doll-like for his tastes. He was also about to fight her. Aiden might be old-fashioned in thinking this but he didn’t like to hit a girl, and he liked even less the idea of being beaten up by one.

“This second round match is between Isla Perko and Aiden Murphy,” announced the anticipation-filled voice of Coach McMillian. “The match starts in thirty seconds, and is over when one of you chickens out or gets knocked out. The use of lethal force is not authorized. If you kill your opponent you’re screwed on just about every level. Not only will you be expelled from the HCP, but you’ll be facing a murder charge. Capiche? Good luck.” The voice cut out and the clock started counting down.

Aiden went over his options.

She didn’t look like a strongman or anyone with enhanced strength, so getting in close and fighting hand to hand was probably the best choice. He wasn’t trained in anything really, but he’d taken a few lessons over the summer once he realized he got in. He had a foot and a half and at least a hundred and fifteen pounds on Izzy, so that was the best way to end this quick.

<But just in case…> He thought when he considered she might have some surprise up her sleeves. <A distraction.>

With ten seconds left Aiden closed his eyes and activated his power. He felt energy coarse through him. His skin tingled as his power took hold, and he felt his forearms become slippery. Around both of them were coiled snake tattoos. They had cobra shaped heads that both ended just above his wrist and showed fangs much larger than real-life snakes.

Aiden watched Izzy’s reaction as his tattoos came to life. The snakes shuddered like they were waking from a long sleep and slowly began to uncoil. They slid headfirst down his hands and onto the ground growing thicker as he poured more energy into them. By the time he was done he was a little lightheaded, but he was flanked by two six-foot-long cobras with ridiculously long fangs dripping venom and scales that looked closer to armor than natural snake skin.

He took a few deep breaths and studied Izzy. What worried him was that she didn’t look nervous at all.

“Cool.” Was her response as she looked at the two creatures that looked more myth than real.

“Thanks.” Aiden played it cool. “This is Al and Cleo.” He introduced the snakes. Al bowed his head while Cleo hissed.

Venom flew a third of the way across the room, but Izzy didn’t budge. She just smiled.

With five seconds left on the countdown clock a translucent pinkish blue light spread over Izzy’s body and it all made sense.

<She’s got a fucking shield.> He changed plans.

“Al.” He snapped his finger and the giant snake slithered back toward him. It placed its head on his hand and started to shrink while winding itself back onto his arm.

The clock hit zero.

“Cleo, get her!” The second snake, who was by far the more vicious of the two sprang at Izzy, venom shooting from her mouth.

His opponent wasn’t nearly as fast as one of nature’s greatest predators, and she put an arm up defensively. The venom splashed harmlessly against her as fangs sank into her arm…or at least that’s what should have happened. Instead the fangs stopped abruptly just above her skin. Izzy used the snake’s momentum against it and shrugged it off. Cleo didn’t have a grip so she went rolling away, hissing in anger while she tried to recover.

Izzy took the moment to charge him, but he was ready. Al had already reintegrated back into his skin, and despite his size Aiden could move when he wanted to. He dodged a flying tackle and brought his right hand around his back to his left shoulder blade. He felt the handle already protruding from his back.

<This is going to suck.> He hated when he had to do something before it was ready.

He took a deep breath and pulled.

There was a sucking sound that he felt in his bones. It felt like he was pulling out his spine, minus any pain. Worst of all it was distracting, but thankfully him pulling a flaming sword from his back thoroughly distracted Izzy as well. she skidded to a halt and Cleo caught her from behind. The snake failed again to sink her fangs into the smaller Super, but this time she made sure to wrap her armored body around Izzy’s torso.

Cobras really weren’t known for their squeeze, but they could still pull one off, and as she did Cleo continued to try and bite through Izzy’s shield. That gave Aiden time to recover and charge.

As a fourteen-year-old, new to his power, and supremely confident in his ability to choose what was best for himself, Aiden had gotten the tattoo. It ran diagonally across the entirety of his back, and looked more like something out of a video game than anything religious. Still, a flaming sword was a freaking flaming sword, and he saw Izzy’s eyes bulge as he charged her.

<One good hit should do it.> He brought the sword down toward her shoulder.

At the last second, she twisted and put her back to him. It would have been a much more efficient blow if not for Cleo being in the way. The blade cut halfway into Cleo before he felt it. It was like someone had taken a sledgehammer and smashed it into his gut and then again into his head.

He’d never had one of his tattoos destroyed before, and certainly not by another one. His concentration faltered and the sword dissolved in his hand to reappear back on his back. Cleo did the same, but he didn’t have time to notice. A tiny fist came flying toward his stomach.

That fist hit like a freight train. Aiden felt just about all of his ribs crack as he was picked up off the ground and tossed across the room. He didn’t get knocked out, but he wasn’t able to feel the match being called in Izzy’s favor over the pain.

Soon golden mist swarmed over his vision. That was about the time he passed out.

 

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A Change of Pace – Season 2 – Chapter 5

The apartment was half a mile from the campus, which was for the best. Seth needed space. He needed space from all the judgment he knew was coming. He needed space from the sights and sounds that reminded him of her. He just needed fucking space.

Monday was a federal holiday, Labor Day, so classes didn’t start until Tuesday. Your schedule was what determined when you moved in. Classes tended to break down into Monday – Wednesday –  Friday classes, or Tuesday – Thursday classes. The two-class per week breakdown led to longer individual classes, but psychologically it seemed to a lot of students that they weren’t going to class as much; which gave them a chance do other collegiate activities. Like partying.

Seth had been in a bit of a funk when he signed up for classes. He did it late and got stuck almost exclusively with Monday – Wednesday – Friday classes, but that helped him with the first day of school. He didn’t have anything to do but move in on Tuesday.

<And the first day orientation at one.> He reminded himself as he sat up in bed fighting a hangover.

Seth got in late last night, stumbled out of his Porsche coup that was poorly parked in its assigned space. He kicked the beer off the floorboards and into the parking lot as he did it, but he was too drunk to notice. The cops had, but since they didn’t have any proof he was driving, and the alcohol was out of his system, they went for a littering fine.

<Three hundred dollars my ass.> Seth almost crumpled up the neon orange ticket sticking out from beneath his windshield, but he didn’t.

He wasn’t ready to commit HCP suicide just yet, so he threw it in his glove box and tore off toward campus. It was only ten, but Angela had called a class meeting. Since she was still the number one ranked student in the class, she thought it gave her the right. Truthfully, Seth didn’t give a flying fuck about whatever Angela had to say. He was just holding out hope that everyone in the class didn’t hate his guts.

Nothing about the students’ center had changed. The floor looked like someone had polished it thoroughly in preparation for a semester’s worth of scuff marks, but aside from that nothing had moved more than an inch from where it had been in May.

It was packed though. People were streaming through it to get to classes. Those who didn’t have class until Wednesday were moving in, just like Seth had done, and among all that no one cared or noticed a small group of sophomores that were filing into a signed-out room.

“Seth!” Becca bounced over and gave him a hug.

It felt good, better than he’d remembered, but he didn’t let it last too long.

“Whoa, look at the hair.” He put on a façade of cheerfulness.

“I know right.” She moved her head back and forth modeling it for him.

“She always looks great.” Anika walked up beside Becca with a stern look on her face.

He expected to get the most hostility out of her. After all, Liz had kidnapped her, locked her in a hole in the ground, and was prepared to give her over to the asshat that had torn apart the city. All for a payday.

“Hello, Anika.” He couldn’t do more than stand his ground and see what happened.

“Hello.” She held out her hand, making the first move, and Seth took it. “You smell like a sewer.” She released his hand, and he could have sworn her saw the corners of her lips pull up a bit.

“Seth.” A deep voice announced as two human giants walked up behind him.

Mason and Kyoshi looked just as chummy and in love as they always had. It sent a spike of pain lancing through Seth’s heart, but he didn’t let it show. Not that his neutral facial expressions fooled Kyoshi, but at least she didn’t call him out on it in public. Her face did droop a little as she registered the negative emotion, but then Angela interrupted them all.

“Welcome back everyone.”

<Maybe I’m the only one, but does Angela look…fierce?> Seth couldn’t think of a different way to put it.

The teenage shifter had a rich tan going, she was as thin as her naturally muscular body type allowed, which meant she looked ripped.

<She looks like she spent the whole summer training while you spent it killing your liver.> He chided himself as she moved on.

“Some of you might remember from last year that when you first moved in you had a little help. You didn’t know it at the time, but that help was HCP sophomores helping the freshman get settled in. It’s a tradition at West, and the Dean has allowed me to coordinate it this year.” Angela smiled, and her teeth looked exceptionally white against her sun-kissed cheeks. “Since today is the first day we’re all here, and a lot of the students are already moved in, we only have a couple students to help. Actually,” she looked down at her list, “there are exactly fourteen freshmen we’re going to help. That, works out perfectly. Break up into groups of two and I’ll give you each an assignment.”

A year of working, fighting, and bleeding together made that quick and easy…for everyone but Seth. Anika, Becca, Mason, and Kyoshi grouped together, that much was a given, but what also seemed to be a given was the rest of the class avoiding him.

Seth had been reasonably close with a few other classmates. Close enough that they could spend a few hours helping a freshman move in. He’d hung out a few times with Alex Webb, who had the ability to augment his bones and muscles into a creature with enhanced physical attributes. They’d even gone to the bar once or twice when Liz was out studying.

<Studying…> It hit him that every time she said that she was off doing something nefarious.

The hesitation made him lose out partnering with Webb, who paired up with Fiona Richardson, the class teleporter.

<They look pretty cozy together.> He’d missed most of what happened at the end of last year and the beginning of this one dealing with his own emotions.

Next, he tried to grab Oliver Carpenter, a technopath with an affinity for surfing and flipflops. But the sandy-haired, laid back dude sidestepped him and joined up with Danny Mason, a duplicator.

Everyone was pairing up quick, leaving him with only a few options.

“Emilia?” He asked the ice blue-haired, cryokinetic Southern Bell who his parents tried to set him up with. “Want to…”

He never got to finish before Natalia Romanoff grabbed her BFBF, best friend and bitches forever, and walked her away. He didn’t look after them. Natalia could paralyze with a look if she wanted too.

<I see how it is. FUCK ALL OF YOU!> He gave them the mental finger loud enough for Kyoshi to take notice and come get him.

“Angela still needs a partner.” She offered, trying to keep the pity to a minimum.

“Great,” he grumbled, his cheery façade gone as he returned to the small group of people who weren’t treating him like a leper.

“Excellent.” Angela watched from the front of the room. “Now have one of you come up and grab a name and address.”

Seth watched as she tore off sections of the paper that was on her clipboard, and waited for her to finish.

“Seth.” Angela’s tone was flat as she approached him.

Aside from Anika, Angela had the most reason to be pissed with him. After all, his girlfriend had blown up her father. She just hadn’t blown him up enough to kill him. But the degree of blowing a person up didn’t matter much when Angela had thought her father was dead for several months.

“Angela.” He replied, his tone matching her.

Irrational as it was, he was a little pissed at her. After all, it was her father who caught his girlfriend and shipped her off to a maximum security Super prison where she couldn’t have any visitors or interaction with the outside world aside from her lawyer. Seth would know, he’d tried to get a call through when he got over the sea of emotions raging through him. Not being able to connect hadn’t helped things.

“Let’s get moving.” The brief tension was gone as Angela turned and marched out of the room.

“Really. That’s it?” Seth followed hot on her heels, while the rest of the class exited and dispersed to the four corners of campus.

“What were you expecting?” Angela didn’t even turn around as they exited the student center and headed down the line of townhouses on the opposite side of the street.

“Oh…I don’t know. A little cursing at a minimum, maybe a shot to the nuts.” Seth threw his hands in the air.

“And why would I do that?”

“You know why.” His statement caused her to stop and turn to face him.

“I will kick you in the nuts if it makes you feel better.” She replied seriously.

“Why would that make me feel better?”

“I don’t know, but you are projecting your anger and hatred onto others, and expecting to be driven away. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Cut the psycho-babbly bullshit.” He scoffed.

“That bullshit helped me through at a tough time and it might just help you too.” Angela remained stoic, which only pissed him off more.

“Fuck that,” he spat. “Let’s just do this stupid move-in thing so I can get back to what’s important.” The image of a bottle of bourbon appeared in his mind.

“Ok.” Angela shrugged. “But when you’re ready go find Dr. Johnson. He’s really good.”

She led the way down the row of townhouses lining the street, and for a brief second Seth thought he knew where they were heading.

<One-twenty…one-nineteen…one-eighteen…> He stopped before he crossed the threshold in townhouse 117’s property. <I can’t do it.> The memories were just too painful.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Angela turned up the walkway for townhouse 118. The front porch was covered in brown boxes stacked three high in some places.

“Hello?” A voice asked tentatively and a girl emerged from behind a stack.

Seth thought girl instead of woman for a reason. The girl couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. The stack of boxes she was walking inbetween dwarfed her. She was cute as a button though, her face reminded Seth of a kitten’s. Her black hair was cut short and her black eyes stared out at them with a bit of fear in them. Her features weren’t Super enough to draw immediate attention, but if you looked at the black irises for too long there was definitely something Super in them. She seemed like she was deciding between fight and flight for a moment before Angela spoke up.

“We’re here to help move you in,” she consulted her slip of paper, “Isla Perko?”

“That’s me, but I don’t need any help.” She lifted up two big boxes with ease. A little more ease than was common in a girl who was five foot nothing and a hundred pounds soaking wet.

“We know you don’t, but the school gives us volunteer credit if we do. So, we can either help you or we’re going to sit here until you’re done.” He shrugged trying to move the conversation along. “Your choice.”

Isla looked between the two of them, the mountain of boxes, and her watch. “Ok, my roommates are all in class and I need to get this all in and unpacked by twelve thirty.”

“Which room is yours?” Angela picked up a box helpfully.

“Ground floor on the left.”

“Cool, I had the same room last year.” Angela smiled and turned herself sideways to fit the box through the door.

Seth didn’t know what was weirder. Angela saying “cool” or smiling.

<This is going to be a weird year.> He grabbed another box and followed Angela and little Isla.

 

***

 

“I think this is it.” Mason looked down at the slip of paper just to make sure.

The dorm in front of them was easily ten stories tall, had people streaming in and out of it, and half of those people were students carrying boxes. There were even a few parents milling around. Mason only knew a few other HCP students who lived in the regular dorms, and he knew they could be problematic when it came to getting into the HCP. Some of the large residential buildings had hidden elevators down into the subterranean facility, but not all of them. As far as he knew, this wasn’t one of them.

“This is it.” Kyoshi had her eyes peeled and was watching the people. “Aiden Murphy is this way.” She grabbed him by the hand and dragged them through the front door.

The lobby was a masterpiece of linoleum, cork boards with advertisements, and rundown furniture. People were streaming in and out of the stairwell, waiting in line for the elevator, or just milling around talking.

“There.” Kyoshi located their target and cut a path through the other students. It wasn’t difficult, people just tended to move out of the way if you were twice as wide and a foot taller than them.

“Aiden Murphy?” They stopped in front of a guy waiting by the elevator.

He wasn’t what Mason expected. He was nicely dressed compared to the rest of the students in the area, including Kyoshi and Mason. The unofficial uniform of West Private University was t-shirts, shorts, and flip flops. Murphy had on a nice button-down shirt rolled up to the elbows, khaki slacks that weren’t going to last in the Orlando heat, and a pair of leather loafers that had to be accumulating a respectable amount of sweat. His brown hair looked like it had been recently styled and a pair of glasses made him look older than eighteen. He was also big, not Mason big, but a respectable six and a half feet tall. Despite the height, Murphy wasn’t muscular. He looked pretty average underneath the nice clothes.

“Yeah that’s me.” Murphy turned around and Mason and Kyoshi saw intertwining tattoos running down both of his forearms. If they had to guess they assumed he had two full sleeves, which was a bit of a contrast to the business casual outfit he was wearing.

“Hi.” Kyoshi smiled at the freshman. “We’re here to help you move in.”

Murphy gave the two larger sophomores a once over. His eyes immediately went to Kyoshi’s white hair, golden eyes, and Mason’s size. Mason saw him put two and two together. It wasn’t exactly rocket science.

“Sure thing.” Murphy smiled back. “This is actually my last box, but you’re more than welcome to help me unpack.”

“We’ll wait for the next elevator.”

The most recent ride was here, and there was no way it could accommodate Mason’s size and all the other students waiting to haul their belongings up to their new rooms.

<Interesting guy.> Kyoshi sent his way as the elevator closed behind the freshman Super.

<What do you mean?>

<His whole look is a ruse.> She scratched her chin in thought. <He’s putting on an act so everyone around him will associate him with that preppy façade, but that doesn’t mesh with what I felt and heard from him.>

<Anything I should know about?>

Supers didn’t always come from a good home life, and this wouldn’t be the first time Mason got burned by someone who appeared cool on the outside. Liz had rattled everyone she’d been around with her deception.

<No, nothing like that.> Kyoshi picked up on his thoughts. <He’s just really anxious, which is normal, and he wants to perform well today. He’s got a few ideas about what is coming, and he’s right about some of them.>

Mason remembered his first day. He met Kyoshi, and it was a strong attraction at first sight. Then he got the speech from the Dean after stepping into an HCP for the first time, before promptly getting stomped on by Coach Meyers. He couldn’t blame Murphy for being nervous if he had an idea what was coming.

<Any idea what his power is?> If he was ever going to have to face Murphy it was better to have all the intel he could.

<It’s something to do with his tattoos but I can’t tell exactly what?> Kyoshi sounded frustrated. <He’s not trained to deal with telepaths, but he knows not to be thinking about his power all the time.>

<Tattoos…hmmm…> Mason didn’t know what to make of that, but he was sure he’d get to find out sooner or later.

“Come on.” Kyoshi pointed to the stairs. “He’s on the third floor. It’ll be quicker to walk.”

 

***

 

“This can’t be right.” Becca looked down at the address, up at the building, and back down at the address.

When they first got the slip of paper they didn’t have any idea where it was, so they went to the car and plugged it into the GPS. The apartment, more accurately the penthouse apartment, that Scarlett Vaan was renting was a solid five miles from the school in a brand new building overlooking a small lake. The doorman at the front stopped the two young Supers, who were dressed in casual sundresses, because they looked like they didn’t belong.

<We don’t.> Becca kept looking up at the building, which only made the doorman more suspicious.

“Just call up to Scarlett Vaan,” Anika was on the verge or arguing with the man. “We’re representatives of the school sent to help her move in.”

“I assure you Ms. Vaan is being well taken care of. By The Lake Properties is a full-service establishment. Everything that Ms. Vaan needs she receives.”

“Please just call her, Sir.” Becca added her Midwestern innocence to the conversation. “If she says she doesn’t need our help then we’ll be on our way, but we need to hear it from her.”

The doorman’s iron demeanor cracked, and he reached for the phone by his little podium.

“Ms. Vaan…yes ma’am…right away ma’am…” the man tried not to looked upset as he put the phone back in the receiver.

“Ms. Vaan will see you now.” He led them inside to the elevator, swiped his ID card, and hit the button for the top floor. “Have a nice day, ladies.”

“That was weird.” Becca looked at her girlfriend who was frowning.

“Not really, Ms. Vaan is a little brazen with the use of her abilities.” Anika took a step forward. “And not nearly as good as she thinks she is.”

The elevator dinged open and they emerged into luxury. Plush furniture was everywhere. A kitchen with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances bordered a giant main room that was set up with a giant 4K HDTV smart TV. At least three bedrooms shot off of the great room, and from one of them emerged a very pretty woman.

<Thanks.> An unknown voice accepted Becca compliment.

Becca immediately put her mind on lock down and pushed the intruding presence out.

“I’m going to tell you right now it is not polite to go snooping around in other people’s minds, Scarlett.” Anika crossed her arms and frowned at the slightly smaller woman.

Scarlett Vaan was very pale, with silver hair that was pulled into a tight ponytail, and matching silver eyes. Those eyes studied Anika and Becca carefully. She fell between the shorter Becca and the taller Anika on the height scale, and had a body that looked like she did yoga regularly.

<She looks tight.> Becca couldn’t think of a better word to describe the woman, who did not look anything like the average eighteen-year-old. Scarlett seemed relaxed on the surface, but just below that Becca could feel the tension. It was like Scarlett was coiled and ready to spring at a moment’s notice.

“Well, first off I’m not eighteen.” She smiled, and Becca couldn’t hide her surprise. “I’m not at West to get my bachelors in whatever, so don’t think of me as a freshman. I’m a doctoral candidate here working on my Ph.D. in neurology and psychology.”

“And you’re an advanced mind, a strong one.” Anika added.

“Thanks.” Scarlett smiled back showing perfectly straight and white teeth. “You have no idea.” The smiled seemed downright predatory.

“Enlighten me.” Anika didn’t back down.

“Fine.” Scarlett shrugged, plodding down on the large sofa in lotus pose. “Every heard of psychic surgery?”

“No.” Becca scratched her head absentmindedly.

“Don’t feel bad. Not many people have, and not many people are capable of it.” Scarlett sounded slightly full of herself. “It’s not a skill that advanced minds can learn, except maybe a few beginner’s steps. It’s a unique power all by itself,” she continued. “I don’t have any telekinesis, so I can’t throw things around. My telepathy is ridiculously strong, but only in a small area, and really for a specific purpose.” She smiled. “Your little mental attempts to keep me out are pretty weak, no offense.”

<Tough not to take offense.> Becca grumbled, and only succeeded in getting a wider smile from Scarlett.

“I won’t bore you with all the details, so I’ll just say I’m a little more hands on than your regular advanced mind.”

Becca felt a shiver pass over her at that tidbit.

“I’ll be working a lot with Dr. Sanderson and Dr. Johnson instead of with the other freshman coaches. So thanks for the offer to help the new girl move in, but I’m good. You’re welcome to stay,” she added. “But I’m just going to watch Netflix until I need to head over for my first day.”

“No thanks.”

“We’re good.”

Becca and Anika quickly backtracked out of the apartment, into the elevator, and back down to the lobby.

“We’re out of range.” Anika took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She’s only got a couple hundred-foot range, and the closer to her you are the stronger she is.”

“I don’t know about you but I got a creep-tastic vibe from her.”

“Yeah, me too.” Anika shook her head like she was warding off bad memories. “But that’s not our problem. Dr. Johnson will straighten her out. He’s a good man.”

“Good.” The last thing Becca wanted was some girl rooting around in her mind that wasn’t as nice and controlled as Kyoshi.

Neither of the Supers knew what psychic surgery was, but it sounded pretty self-explanatory, and not pleasant at all.

“Let’s get back.” Anika led the way to the car. “We have just enough time to grab a bite to eat before we head down to our first day.”

“Eat light,” Becca reminded her girlfriend. “You know what they like to do on the first day.”

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