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 30

It felt good to be back in the suit. This wasn’t some emergency situation thing while the latest shitstorm was passing through town. Daisy was legit back in the show now, even though her Hero certification hadn’t been technically restored yet. There were more tests for her to take at the D.C. office when she got the free time, but the Protectorate was able to get around that right now by having her temporary status extended indefinitely until her certification reactivated. She was in team’s rotation part-time for the time being, and right now that meant she was the Hero on call.

She’d had customized fatigues ordered and delivered within twenty-four hours. They were a hell of a lot better than the crap they’d issued her for Mr. Morningstar’s detail. The fabric was lightweight and breathable while still being made of a ballistic material that would stop most small caliber ammunition. It was nothing like her old uniform that could hold together under artillery fire, but things were different here in Florida. She’d die of dehydration in that material down here, and it didn’t matter much for a kinetic absorber what caliber round it could handle. What did matter was them being top-grade fire-retardant material. She’d nearly been burned alive once in the last year and she wasn’t planning on going for two.

She’d dug her old domino mask out of her things, strapped it on, and immediately discarded it. It didn’t fit the circumstances. Shit was sliding sideways fast, and she didn’t need something to convey that. Her full-face shield came in with the rest of the uniform. The designer, a go-to for any serious Hero, had styled some red accents onto the metallic-black material that gave it a little devilish flair. On top of it went her black patrol cap. She’d had to slap it against her leg half a dozen times to get all the dust off of it, but it fit just right, and she wasn’t willing to get a new one. Her short hair went into a ponytail and through the open space at the back, and she was Reaper again.

Despite that, it had been a long time since she’d been on a call like this. <At least ten years.> She thought as she lifted the thin, yellow caution tape that made a horizontal barrier across the door of the apartment complex.

Even when she’d still been an active Hero, Daisy had usually been brought in for scorched-earth missions or things deemed serious by Iron Giant or the DVA. John was well aware of her short temper back then, so he didn’t waste her time with minor league shit. She was a different person now, and KaBoom was a different leader, so she got the same assignments as everyone else.

The neighbors were out in the hallway and their eyes went wide as she strode confidently down the hall to the gaggle of whispering detectives. She didn’t know if they remembered her from a decade ago, or if they just thought she looked bad ass. She didn’t pay them any attention other than a quick scan to classify them as non-threatening. What she was trying to figure out was the lead detective’s name. She’d seen him around the precinct before, and Topher had even introduced them once.

“Detective Martinez,” she gave herself a mental high-five when the man turned to regard her.

The next few interactions were crucial. Even though she wasn’t a new Hero in Orlando’s scene, she was new to the routine calls, and that meant she needed to carefully cultivate a relationship with the rank and file of the OPD. How she acted here with Detective Martinez was going to be spread around through the force. She was pretty sure the SWAT guys and a few uniforms that worked on the raids might have some stories, but Martinez was going to be the first to interact with her like this.

“Reaper.” He acknowledged her with a head nod and a look that said ‘I don’t really need you here, but I’ll take the help I can get’. It was a hell of a lot better than ‘Who the fuck do you think you are, and why do you think you can walk right into my crime scene and run the show?’.

“What have we got?” She decided to play it business-like for now.

“Nothing.”

She did a double take and got confirmation when Martinez shrugged.

“I’m not even sure why we’re here.”

“You’re here because I asked,” Daisy turned to see Debora striding down the hallway. She had her pant-suit jacket pulled to the side to show her DVA badge to the officer who looked like he was going to move to block her.

“Agent Phillips.” Reaper gave her the same tone and nod she did Martinez. Local vs. Federal beef was something she did not want to get in the middle of.

“Reaper.” The DVA agent returned the nod and strode past her and the detectives to the room where a man with CSI in big letters on his back was taking pictures of a perfectly clean apartment.

Too clean.

<Badge and gun on the table…no sign of forced entry…nothing looks like it’s been taken…> Daisy might not have done this in a while, but she remembered the basics.

“Do you mind telling us what the hell is going on?” Martinez asked as he followed Debora into the living room. Daisy brought up the rear.

“This is the apartment of DVA Agent Simmons. She didn’t report to work this morning, she didn’t call in sick, and no one has been able to get a hold of her since she left the office last night. This is atypical behavior from an agent with stellar reviews and perfect attendance.”

“So…she went on a bender and hasn’t crawled back out of the bottle yet.” Martinez suggested as he accepted a pair of gloves that Debora was handing to everyone. Daisy’s outfit came with gloves, so she walked into the kitchen to take a look around while everyone pulled on the latex.

All Daisy could think of was butt inspections when she heard the snap of the plastic and the weird squeaking sound of them being adjusted. She quickly pushed the thoughts aside and looked around the kitchen. She opened the fridge and found a dedicated agent’s contents: half a carton of eggs, milk that was about to go bad, and take-out that was either fresh or had been in there way too long judging by the noxious fumes wafting into the air. It didn’t tell her much about the agent other than she was a workaholic.

“Agent Simmons is a young, talented agent. She did not go on a bender. She is missing.”

“Unless things have changed, someone usually has to be gone at least forty-eight hours to officially be classified as missing,” Daisy said her piece and didn’t bother looking at Debora. She could feel the heat of the DVA agent’s glare on her back.

“Normally, yes, but there are exigent circumstances in this case.”

“Which are…?” Martinez asked as the group made its way into the bedroom.

Daisy scanned the living room before following. The bed room looked just as clean, but the bed’s comforter was missing. <Weird,> she wondered if anyone had checked the washer.

“Agent Simmons was part of a two-person team that captured an individual assisting the supervillain known as Wraith yesterday.” No one needed any further explanation.

They all split up and started to do their detective thing, and Daisy went over to the CSI guy. He was a little star struck and stumbled over his answers. It was what she’d already surmised. They’d dusted for prints and everything, but so far they’d come up with diddly. The evidence was pointing more and more in the direction of the bender theory.

“Do you mind?” she asked as she grabbed the UV light from the CSI guy’s kit of tools.

He didn’t, but he said he already took a look at everything and didn’t find anything. It didn’t matter. She had a hunch. It wasn’t a lot to go on, but she couldn’t buy that the breakout from the supermax prison and anything Wraith did from now on was coincidental. There had to be a reason, and so far every prisoner except one was accounted for. She’d read the file and knew what to look for.

While everyone else poked around the bedroom, she shut herself in the bathroom and closed the door. She flipped on the UV lamp and watched as the blueish glow washed over everything. The tile was clean, too clean, and the CSI guy probably noted that in his report. She also bet that aside from the food in her fridge, Agent Simmons was a classic neat freak. The orderly apartment suggested it, so that cleanliness would be written off.

Daisy wasn’t willing to assume that. She waved the light and looked into all the nooks and crannies. There was nothing behind the toilet, anywhere in the back of the closet, or under the lip of the sink where someone’s foot might accidentally leave residue. She waved it over the tub and it was just as immaculate. She was about to move on when a momentary shine caught her eye.

“Someone get me a screw driver!” she called out. Less than ten seconds later Debora had one, and had squeezed into the dark space with Martinez.

Daisy unscrewed counterclockwise and the drain cover popped off. The top of it didn’t show any residue, but the underside was shining like a beacon. The drain itself wasn’t too bad, but there were still some flecks of brightness. Normally, they would be swabbed and sent to the lab with the lowest priority since there still wasn’t any real indication that Agent Simmons was missing, but the bottom of the drain cover was the smoking gun.

“I’d bet you a month’s pay that if you swab and test this blood you’ll get a positive DNA test for Agent Simmons.” Daisy wasn’t happy she’d made the discovery.

“Shit,” Debora cursed and seemed to deflate in front of her.

“How the hell did you know to look there, and how do you know it’s blood?” Martinez was squinting at the bright underside of the cover.

“Bloodhound.” Daisy replied.

“What?”

“The only prisoner missing from the prison break in Colorado was a woman named Bloodhound. Her MO is to kill people, drain their bodies of blood, and bathe in it. My guess is that some of it leaked out while she was bathing, or she tried to drain some of it, or maybe she even forgot to put the stopper in when she cut her victim’s throats. I don’t know, but I do know that blood is thicker than water and doesn’t drain like it. She cleaned up after she was done, but she missed this bit.”

“Victims?”

“It’s just a gut feeling, but judging by the level of cleaning that went into this, and the amount of blood the human body has in it, I’m guessing two or more people were drained into the tub. I suggest we canvas the neighbors and see if anyone else didn’t show up for work this morning unexpectedly.” Daisy felt the weight of guilt settle onto her shoulders.

This was the part of the job she didn’t miss: the feeling that she could have prevented this if she was here or had done something different in the past.

<You didn’t do this. Wraith and Bloodhound did. Concentrate on that.> She took a deep breath, composed herself, and got to her feet.

“Get CSI in here and get the evidence. Then you can make this an official homicide case and get the resources that you need.” She looked at Debora. The DVA agent couldn’t see behind the mask, but Daisy’s face was pained. “Sorry for your loss, Agent Phillips.”

Debora didn’t say anything. She threw open the door and started yelling orders to everyone.

 

***

 

The last few freshman of West Private’s HCP shuffled into the auditorium just before the scheduled start time. The rest of the classes watched them without judging. They knew everything those first semester freshman were going through, and the last thing anyone wanted after a workout session with Coach McMillian was to sit in the auditorium for an announcement from the Dean.

Mason, Kyoshi, Becca, Anika, and Angela were sitting together and all hoping this would be quick. The grumbling of stomachs in the room was nearly as loud as the side conversations.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming on such short notice.” Dean Ditmar stepped out onto the stage with a hurried look on his face. The stress was something his students were not used to seeing. “I just wanted to gather everyone together this evening to discuss what has occurred and will be occurring.”

Several people in the crowd – mostly freshman – shifted uncomfortably. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this conversation was going.

“Not long ago, the Hero community and this city lost an icon.” The Dean’s tone was somber. “I have personally known Mr. Morningstar for more than half a decade, and his reputation preceded him long before that. He was a good man, a great Hero, and an asset to this city. As all of you know, he lost his life fighting against people who have attacked our city and our nation. Due to the media coverage, it was a very public death. Most Heroes who die in the line of duty do not get the moment captured on national television, but how his death was broadcasted does not affect his relevance as a Hero and guardian of this city. If anything, it shows everyone: Hero, civilian, and HCP student just how important the daily battle for peace and justice really is.” The Dean stopped to take a sip of water from the bottle on the podium.

“Most of you also know that his murderer is still at large, and once masqueraded as a student at this college.”

All of the eyes in the room pivoted in Mason, Kyoshi, Becca, and Anika’s direction. A few then moved down toward Isla in the front row, but none of them found what they were looking for.

“The public funeral and private ceremony for Mr. Morningstar are being held tomorrow starting exactly at noon. The city is pulling out all the stops. A funeral procession of Heroes and local law enforcement will escort Mr. Morningstar’s body through the city to the church. Once there, only close friends and families, transported by teleporter, will be present for the actual service. Members of the public may be inclined to stay and follow the procession to the cemetery where Mr. Morningstar will be laid to rest.”

Becca’s hand shot up the moment the Dean finished and he pointed for her to ask the question everyone was thinking.

“Can we attend?”

“That’s why I called this assembly.” The Dean smiled back with a hint of sadness. “Members of the West Private HCP are more than welcome to attend as civilians. The secret identity clause of your contracts still applies. You may not reveal what you are or what you are doing at West Private, and that is important because the threat level for tomorrow is high.” The Dean’s face grew serious. “As I mentioned, Wraith and the others who attacked the prison are still at large. If their goal is to continue to hurt this city then attacking the funeral will be at the top of their agenda. The DVA and over a dozen Heroes are tasked specifically with security, but no defense is perfect. That is a good lesson to take away from this meeting today. Several very powerful people will be there tomorrow, and there is still a chance for things to go very wrong. I can’t stop you from attending, but you all need to keep that in mind if you do go.”

“Are you on the security detail?” An overzealous freshman asked.

“No, but I will be attending the funeral and will do my duty if called upon. I’m an asset in reserve for the authorities to utilize.” The Dean looked around for any more eager question askers. “As the Dean of the HCP, your safety is my top priority and we will be ensuring accountability of all students throughout the day tomorrow. The whole city, including the school, has established tomorrow as a half-day in honor of Mr. Morningstar. It is as much a security concern as anything else, but I encourage all of you to take advantage of this time to train and learn.” The Dean looked around again for any raised hands. “If you are planning to attend tomorrow, please see Professor Livingston and she will give you the relevant information.”

The Dean stepped away from the podium and the classes took that as a sign of dismissal. Everyone gathered their things and started to either stream out of the auditorium or to the Focus professor. Surprisingly, despite the danger, more students headed to the teacher than to the door, but a few made a beeline straight to the Dean.

“Dean Ditmar,” naturally Becca got to him first, “have you seen Seth? He wasn’t in any of our classes today and we’re worried about him. He’s been a bit off lately, and with his probation we just wanted to check in.” Anyone who didn’t know the petite speedster would have thought she was giving the Dean puppy-dog-eyes, but it was just her natural expression.

“Mr. Abney has been temporarily removed from the program until the criminal charges against him get sorted out. How the issue is resolved will determine if he returns to this program or not.” The Dean didn’t elaborate before leaving the stunned sophomores.

“He’s gone?” was all Becca was able to say.

“Oh man,” Mason sighed as his face fell.

Anika kept her mouth shut and Angela just shrugged. Their eyes met briefly and they could both tell the other Super thought Seth was better off somewhere else. Neither thought he had the current mindset to be a Hero.

“Hey, have you guys seen Seth?” Isla walked up to the small group with the same concerned look on her face. The look only deepened when she heard the news. “I don’t understand?”

“It’s not difficult.” Angela started off, but softened her tone when Becca shot her a withering look. “Seth is obviously going through something, and with his legal problems the staff is probably correct in assuming he’s not ready to be a Hero now, so why would they waste resources training him?”

“It’s just…” Isla stopped and struggled over what to say. “Nevermind,” she sighed and walked away back toward the rest of the freshman who were gathered around Professor Livingston.

“What should we do?” Mason asked once they were alone again.

“Nothing,” Anika replied. “If he’s out then the HCP is going to wipe his memory so he can’t expose the rest of us. The Dean gave us the whole spiel last year. For all we know, Seth doesn’t even remember who we are right now.”

That sent Becca over the edge. She sniffled and headed for the door with Anika following after her apologizing. Angela agreed with the sentiment with a simple nod and followed the two other Supers out. That just left Mason and Kyoshi.

“I can’t sense him in the building, but we can drive by his place if you want?” She could tell Mason was taking it hard. It was always difficult to see someone you’d fought beside gone like that without even a goodbye.

“Sure.”

Kyoshi intertwined her hand in Mason’s and the two large Supers carved a path toward the exit. They’d both get with Professor Livingston tomorrow morning to confirm they’d go to the funeral.

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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.

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A Change of Pace – Season 2 – Chapter 24

“This is incredible, absolutely incredible.” The reporter was crouched behind a tree and kept ducking every few seconds as loud explosions or gunshots echoed all around her.

<You don’t have to tell me.> Seth was leaning forward with his eyes glued to the TV.

He’d participated in free-for-all battles in the HCP, and the amount of damage a bunch of teenage Supers could do was incredible. This jailbreak had hardened criminals fighting for their freedom while seasoned Heroes tried to rein them in.

“There goes another one.” A loud crack echoed from close by and she ducked. “We at WKYTV know that sound well. That’s Bender, a member of the Rocky Guard from Denver, and he just made us a little safer by taking out another one of these criminals.”

The reporter was smiling so widely that Seth was sure her jaw was going to be sore for a week. He tried to ignore the commentary and pay attention to the action. The reporter – at least she was cute – really wasn’t adept at covering something like this, and that was a shame because footage like this was never seen live.

Super battles were inherently destructive so the media tended to record from afar. Sometimes there were people embedded in the action, but they never showed it live. It was like war footage. Seth bet in a few months there would be an entire special aired showing everything leading up to and during the fight with some of this footage. The only difference would be that the major networks would edit out the newbie.

“Oh my god! Zoom in…zoom in!” She pestered the cameraman as she pointed forcefully at something in the opposite direction of Bender’s latest victim.

The picture blurred as the cameraman swiveled and had to go around the tree, but once it focused again Seth had a clear shot of the side of the building with several holes in it. There, he got a perfect view of Lilly stalking toward another figure.

“Holy shit!” Seth’s jaw dropped as Lilly and Mr. Morningstar engaged in an intense fight.

The reporter was chattering the whole time, but Seth ignored all of it. He studied the fight. Both of the fighters were extremely skilled. He’d been in the HCP long enough to see that. Lilly was quicker and stronger. She was able to bounce back from hits faster, and that would probably be the deciding factor. Mr. Morningstar was no slouch though, but he either wasn’t using his power or it wasn’t working. Sooner rather than later he began to lag, and Lilly exploited that.

“Hero and villain locked in a titanic battle for…” the reporter was spouting off meaningless dialogue when a Morningstar punched Lilly right in the face.

Seth winced at the sight, but it was quickly overtaken when a vicious roundhouse kick did some real damage. Even from the treeline, Seth could see the kick had hurt the Hero. Mr. Morningstar was cradling his arm to his chest. He tried in vain to stop the follow-on attacks, but Lilly’s fist seemed to blur she struck out so fast and caught the older Hero right in the throat.

“Oh no,” the smile fell from the reporter’s face as Morningstar fell to the ground. “Go to commercial or pan away you idiot.” She reached out and physically moved the camera, but not before Seth and millions of Americans saw Wraith pull a pistol and aim in at the fallen Hero.

“Bender! Over there!” The reporter must have seen the local Hero and pointed out the Hero in distress.

A big man came rushing over, slid on the ground, and practically shoved the reporter aside as he brought up a sleek, deadly looking rifle. The cameraman got a close-up view of the Hero doing his job, but that wasn’t what Seth was paying attention to.

His heart had leapt into his throat the moment he saw Mr. Morningstar go down, and he felt that heart breaking when he heard three shots echo through the TV.

<It could have been someone else. There is SWAT there and other Heroes.> He tried to convince himself that Lilly hadn’t gunned down the leader of the Protectorate. That she hadn’t just thrown the promise she made to him in the dirt and smashed it to pieces.

A resounding boom echoed through the TV as Bender took aim and fired. Somewhere in the back of his mind Seth already knew it was too late. Lilly had killed the Hero, and judging by the nasty looking rifle recoiling into the Hero’s shoulder, she might be dead too.

Something hard, sinking, and dark filled Seth’s gut. He felt like he was going to be sick. He rushed to the bathroom and emptied his stomach into the porcelain throne. He’d been mostly on a liquid courage diet lately, so it flowed out of him easily. It smelled like half-rotted asshole, and that made more come up. He retched three times before everything was out of him, but the darkness in his gut was still there sinking deeper and deeper into his soul.

Depression turned to anger. He lashed out. His fist smashed through the mirror above the sink and into the drywall behind it. Glass and blood went flying as it sliced through his fingers and split his knuckles. He ignored it all.

He just screamed. He screamed his lungs out. He tried to rid himself of everything pent up inside him, but it didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse. He didn’t remember what happened next. His mind went blank with anger and pain. When he finally came to he was standing in the hallway, he smelled smoke, and some guy was unconscious in front of him.

Seth looked behind him and saw flames licking at the sofa of his apartment. The smoke was growing and any second alarms would start wailing. His mind focused on the man in front of him. He vaguely recognized the man as the guy from the front desk. He needed to get him to safety.

He hoisted the man’s unconscious weight into a fireman’s carry and started toward the elevator. He was halfway down the hallway when the fire alarm went off. When Seth got to the elevator he wasn’t the only one trying to cram into the small space. He knew he shouldn’t be taking the elevator when the building was on fire, but he wasn’t going to carry the guy all the way down to the lobby by himself.

His mind started to drift back to the pain and anger of his situation as the elevator plodded along, but he forced it down by checking on the man. His pulse was strong and his breathing was regular, so there wasn’t any danger there. His jaw was clearly dislocated, so he was in for a long and uncomfortable recovery, but he would live.

A soft ding announced the elevator arriving at the destination, and it opened into a lobby full of activity. The fire department had already arrived. The apartment building was on the ritzy side, so they knew their response time needed to be quick. Half a dozen men in fire-resistant clothing ushered the group from the elevator outside where an ambulance and four cops were waiting.

“Shit, kid.” One of the cops helped Seth lower the unconscious man onto the stretcher and noticed all the blood on him. “What the hell happened to you?”

There was a large blank period in his memory, but Seth remembered what happened beforehand. “Glass.” He looked down at his blood covered hands and the multiple lacerations.

“Let’s clean you up.” The paramedic pulled Seth away from the cops and got to work bandaging his hands, while to firefighters went to work.

Thirty minutes later and the team that had gone upstairs came back downstairs with water dripping from their coats. “The fire is out,” they announced, “but no one is going to be able to go back in until the fire investigator and building inspector from the city come take a look and declare it structurally sound.”

That got a bunch of groans, but Seth wasn’t one of them. Sitting there getting bandaged and waiting for the fire to be put out had left him too much time to think. Melancholy had overwhelmed him.

“Do we have to wait here?” He asked the nearest cop. “I’ve got a study group,” he lied.

“After you give us your name and info you should be good to go. We’ll contact you if we have any questions.”

Ten minutes later Seth had given his information to the cops. He refused a ride to the hospital and instead jumped into his car and peeled out of the parking lot. He knew where he was going. Less than a few minutes later he was sitting behind a well-worn bar with his fake ID out and demanding the top-shelf stuff. A swipe of the credit card later and he was upending an expensive bottle of scotch to replace what he’d vomited out.

By the time he was halfway through that bottle his emotions had numbed to the point he didn’t want to lash out in anger. His bandaged hands didn’t hurt anymore either, so he couldn’t think of another place to spend his time.

<Is she dead?>

<Are we done?>

<How can I ever trust her again?>

The questions that had been rattling around in his mind were silenced with every successive shot until he wasn’t thinking about anything at all.

 

***

 

“Isla are you coming or not?”

Izzy sat on the couch with her face glued to the TV. One of the greatest Super battles of the year, possibly this decade, was happening right in front of them and all Marcy wanted to do was head straight to the club so she didn’t miss dollar-shot hour.

“Isla?” Marcy put her hand on her hip and gave her a pointed look.

Marcy was model thin, with model good looks, and model tastes. Her straight blonde hair was done up in a way that made it a little exotic and crazy. Her mini-skirt showed off plenty of toned, tan leg, and her top was tight enough to show off her modest bust. Half the time Izzy didn’t even think the girl needed her power.

Marcy manipulated pheromones, so she could make people do a lot of things for her; including letting the bouncers let her in underage without the cover charge. She was nice enough – a little spoiled maybe – but Izzy didn’t mind her as a roommate. What she did mind, was her as an HCP classmate. In Izzy’s opinion, the beautiful blonde did not have what it took to be a Hero. She didn’t know if it was Marcy’s upbringing or the way her power worked, but the girl was lazy. She always got everything she wanted – even some truly ridiculous things – and because of that she’d never learned the value of hard work. For someone who’d had to claw their way to get where they were it wasn’t an attractive look.

Izzy predicted she’d end up walking a runway or married to some sugar daddy, but Marcy would not be a Hero.

“Isla, focus?” Marcy snapped her fingers.

“No I’m not coming.” Izzy shook her head and kept her eyes on the TV.

The parties that Marcy did drag her to were pretty awesome. She’d give the blonde the credit she deserved. The bikini party at the sorority had been a lot of fun even before Seth jumped over the fence.

“Oh my god he’s so cute.”

“You know that guy?”

“Please tell me you have his number and are going to ride that.” The comments she got when she returned from her short conversation ranged from flattering to wildly inappropriate, and made her the life of the party for ten minutes.

Izzy didn’t think Marcy liked that and might have even used her power to bring the party back on course. Izzy didn’t mind, she had other things on her mind. As the TV showed the breaking news coverage of the Super brawl, he came to mind again.

She’d tried to give Seth some space. Sure she liked him. She wasn’t sure if it was the wounded puppy look, bad boy attitude, or him being an older, more experienced HCP student. If she was being honest with herself, she’d never been good at picking guys.

<If you never try then you’ll never know.> That was her motto and it made her smile.

That smile vanished when the screen showed a girl in black fighting to the death with a man Izzy recognized from local news coverage in Orlando.

“Oh no…pan away or go to commercial you idiot.” The reporter hissed as Wraith knocked Mr. Morningstar to the ground and pulled out a gun.

Even though the camera guy looked away it didn’t stop the mikes from picking up the sound of the three gunshots closely followed by a much louder boom. Her hands shot to her mouth out of shock and fear.

<He warned you.> Her mind told her as she remembered the conversation they’d had in the dining hall. <He told it to you straight and you didn’t really believe him.> Hearing it from Seth and seeing Wraith shoot a Hero in cold blood were two totally different things, and they put everything into perspective.

<What am I doing here?> She looked around and asked herself.

In front of her were a half empty pizza box and a two liter of soda. She hadn’t eaten the whole thing herself, and her HCP workouts didn’t make her too worried about gaining unwanted weight, but they underplayed something so much more.

<I need to be training. I need to get better. I can’t be pigging out and going to the club every weekend. There are villains like Wraith out there who are going to put a target on my back. I need to be ready.> She didn’t want to think that they could come for her at any moment, but she’d be lying if she said that thought wasn’t in the back of her mind.

Despite all of that, some things needed to come first. She fished around in the seat cushions and found her phone. It rang and rang and rang but no one picked up on the other end. She hung up and tried again, but only got the same result.

<Plan B.> She signed onto social media and searched for his profile.

Like a lot of teenagers in today’s world Seth had social media accounts. He hadn’t used them much since graduating high school, and hadn’t posted anything new for months, but he still had them. He also made some of the same mistakes as most kids. He left his geo-positioning software open for some of the apps. That way they could track his location and give him better deals or recommendations on whatever.

Izzy had learned to navigate these features while in the orphanages. They had kids run away sometimes, and she was the person who would find them. They never got far, because no matter how angry or sad the kid was they always took their phone with them, so she could always find them. Now, she was taking those tricks and finding Seth.

“Gotcha,” she whispered even though she was the only person home.

She used another app to call an Uber because the person she would have called for a ride was Seth. Whatever she wanted to think about the man’s attitude, he was pretty generous with his car.

<I need to get dressed.> she was dressed in a baggy t-shirt and sweats. That was fine for a night eating pizza at home, but not for going out to a bar. At a minimum she needed to look like an adult so they’d let her in.

Fifteen minutes later she was dressed to slay bouncers and her Uber was here. The middle-aged driver ogled her a little, but she didn’t pay him any attention. She had to focus on what she was walking into.

There was a line outside when she arrived, so she did what Marcy would have done. She walked right past the line and up to the bouncer. She held out a twenty between two of her fingers, thrust out her chest, and cocked her hip out so her could admire her curves. The man gave her a once over, took the twenty, and waved her in without even glancing at her ID.

<So easy.> She walked through the door and was immediately assaulted by the beer and BO.

There was a reason the guy had let her in so easily. This was a sausage fest. The girl to guy ratio was shit. She ignored the heads that rotated after her, and had to fight the urge to activate her power. Her shimmer protective energy would keep anyone from grabbing her ass, but it would also get her thrown out of the HCP. There weren’t many good solutions.

“Hey there cutie. You a spinner?”

<Here we go.> Izzy sighed.

She spun and grabbed the guy’s wrist that was reaching for her. A little twist and pull and she had it securely in a lock.

“AH fuck.” The guy fell to his knees when she put a little pressure into the hold. It wouldn’t take a lot to break it.

“Apologize to me,” she stated flatly. “Now.”

“Geez, ok..ok…I’m sorry. It was a compliment,” he relented after a little more pressure.

“Think of a better compliment.” She released his wrist and the man immediately retreated back to a group of his friends.

No one else gave her any trouble as she approached the bar. <Thank you, Coach Meyers.>

She really needed to pay as much attention to the alternative instructor as possible. That trick she’d taught them had worked like a charm. She’d called the impromptu class Douchebag Repellent 101, and with hindsight being twenty-twenty the name was perfect.

There weren’t many seats open at the bar, but two on either side of Seth were vacant. The broad spectrum elemental manipulator was giving off a not-so-subtle fuck off vibe. Then there was the tower of shot glasses he’d stacked in a wall around himself.

<Shit.> He was drunk…really drunk.

She took a seat next to him and he didn’t even notice. The bartender did. The worry on her face must have given her away.

“Do you know this guy?” He cocked his head in Seth’s direction.

“Yeah. Has he been any trouble?”

“Not as long as I keep serving him. I tried to stop once, but the look he gave me…” The bartender shuddered at the memory. “Just…will you please get him out of here. He’s going to get alcohol poisoning soon. I’m actually pretty impressed he’s still conscious.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Izzy wanted to order a drink but thought twice about it.

“Oh…and his phone has been ringing off the hook.” The bartender left with those final words of wisdom.

Slowly, glass by glass, she started to deconstruct the wall Seth built around himself. She’d started a commotion behind him, and talked with the bartender while sitting next to him, but it was only when she touched his booze-wall that he finally noticed her.

He turned to face her, and she had to bite her lip. His eyes were droopy, unfocused, and bloodshot. She hadn’t noticed it until now but there was an acrid smell to him that she couldn’t place. He clearly had trouble controlling his movements, because he knocked over some of his wall when he turned to face her.

Glass falling to the ground and shattering drew attention, but people’s attention didn’t linger. In their minds it was just another drunk idiot.

“Heeeeeeeey.” The one good thing so far was he smiled when he saw her. “How’re they hangin’, Iz?”

“Come on, Seth. Let’s get you home.”

“Whooooa. Already trying to get me back to my place eh? You got to buy me a drink first pretty lady.”

She blushed slightly at the pretty lady part, but knew she could use his addled brain to her advantage. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s have that drink at your place.”

“Sorry…nope…can’t.” Seth got irrationally loud, and earned some irritated looks from the people around them. “Place burned down…poof.” He did a hand gesture that she couldn’t follow.

“What?” was the only logical response to Seth’s incoherent thought process.

“Fire…” he held up a finger and a small flame flickered to life.

“Seth!” She hissed and quickly covered it with her hand. That was a bad idea. “AH shit!” the flame burned her palm and she jerked back wagging it back and forth to try and cool it. “Can I get some ice!” she yelled to the bartender.

“Shhhhh.” He held up a finger to his lips and a stupid grin spread across his lips.

“Ok, we need to go.” Irritation replaced worry as she accepted some ice and placed it against her tender flesh.

“You’re pretty.” In typical drunk person fashion he quickly changed topics. “You’ve got nice hair.” He reached for her hair and she slapped his hand away. “Your face is hoooot.” He tried again and was rebuffed.

She half carried, half dragged him to the door and called another Uber with her free hand.

“Ok.” He held out his arms in a stopping motion when they reached the curb. He swayed on his feet. “We can do it, but we’ve got to go to your place. Remember fire.” Thankfully, he didn’t conjure fire in front of everyone waiting in line to get into the bar.

“The only thing we’re doing is getting you hydrated and to sleep,” she stated forcefully as she waved down the approaching Uber.

“But the sex…?”

“I doubt you could even get it up.” She shot back, and got a few snickers from the peanut gallery.

“But…” he pulled his phone out of his pocket and immediately dropped it.

“I’ve got it.” She waved him off. The last thing she wanted him to do was face plant.

She plucked the phone up off the ground. Lights were blinking on it indicating voicemails and text messages. Seth was too busy trying to get himself into the Uber so she opened up his main screen and checked in.

The texts were from his friends asking where he was and if he was ok. They must have seen the same thing that she had. She shot a quick text to Becca saying that she’d picked up Seth at the bar and was taking back to her place to get him to sleep. She wrote SLEEP in bold and all caps. Then she moved on to the voicemails.

She had to pry his passcode out of him, but she finally got it. The first two messages were form his friends again asking the same things they had in the texts. She deleted those.

Then she listened to the third one. Her face paled as she listened to the recorded voice of the detective.

“Seth.”

“Wha…” he’d finally maneuvered himself into the car and had his eyes closed.

“We’ve got to make a stop on the way home.”

That was as far as she got before Seth blew chunks all over the backseat of the car.

Previous                                                                           Next

A Change of Pace – Season 2 – Chapter 20

Daisy walked the sci-fi corridors of the HCP with a stack of folders that nearly reached her chin. It was ideal to place a cup of coffee on, but that was about it. Thankfully, the students parted like the Red Sea around her or there would be problems.

The paperwork was mostly bureaucratic bullshit. She had printed herself the results of the first sophomore team competition to get a better read on what went on. She knew the basic results. Martin’s team had beaten Cook’s team and Goodman’s team had beaten Fisher’s team. Martin had outthought Cook, and Goodman had overpowered Fisher. When Craig set the matches, Daisy had an idea that was how they’d turn out. Now, she was looking at all the data gathered from the fights.

All of the special combat cells and arenas were outfitted with sensors developed by tech genius Supers. They allowed the instructors to do a lot more than just record the fight. These sensors measured the size, shape, and particulars of the exploding orbs Goodman lobbed all over the place. It evaluated how Whitfield ran on water, and how much force was behind each punch thrown by anyone with enhanced strength. It even measured the air displacement when Richardson teleported all over the place.

All of that data could then be measured against baselines taken during freshman year to see how the students were progressing and where they needed assistance in their training based on past trends. The HCP saw each of its students as world class athletes, and it treated their training the same as if they were preparing for the Superbowl or getting ready for the Olympics.

<I sometimes wish I had this.> Daisy’s training had ben radically different.

There was no measurements or quality analysis of Super abilities in the 50s aside from seeing if you could jump over a tall building in a single bound or were faster than a speeding bullet. They didn’t care about that stuff sixty years ago, but they cared about it now.

That was some of the other paperwork in her arms. She’d just completed a basic analysis of the freshman and compared it to the data gathered during their combat trial. Some were showing improvement, others were the same, and a few were actually doing worse than before. Those few wouldn’t make the cut to the second semester if they didn’t get better or didn’t stop overindulging outside the HCP. An HCP student couldn’t act like any other college student and still compete at the level required of them.

The crowds started to thin out. It was the end of the day and not many people were heading toward the infirmary. Dr. Sanderson was usually getting people out of there about now.

“Coach Meyers?”

Daisy had to peak from behind her folders to see who was addressing her. “Ms. Vann. What can I do for you?”

“What are you doing here?”

Scarlett Vaan was just exiting Dr. Johnson’s office. Daisy knew she had her internship for her doctoral program with the psychologist, but she also knew she ended her day at five. That’s why Daisy’s appointment wasn’t until five-thirty.

“I’m here to see Dr. Johnson.” Daisy hefted the files a bit as an excuse. She might be coming to grips with her emotional health, but she wasn’t about to share that with one of her freshman students.

“I didn’t see you on the schedule.”

Daisy didn’t know if Vaan was prying or just being diligent about her duties with the doctor. Either way, Daisy didn’t have a lot of extra time or energy for it.

“We can’t always fit what needs to be done into a regular schedule, Vaan. Sometimes you have to drop in unexpectedly to get the job done. If you’ll excuse me…” Daisy made a “please move” gesture with her head, and the advanced mind stepped out of her way.

Daisy felt a tickle in her mind and gave the freshman a good wallop of the most annoying sound in the world. The young woman grimaced at the annoying, grating sound and blushed before walking away.

<Kids.> Daisy shook her head, even if Vaan was older than the seniors in the program she was still a kid. <Hell, just about everyone here is a kid compared to me.> She chuckled at her own joke and knocked on Johnson’s door.

“Come on in, Daisy.”

Daisy had been seeing the good doctor at least once a week for the last year, and she could honestly say she’d rarely seen him this tired.

He saw her looking. “I’ve forgotten how much more work it is to have an intern.” He sighed and gestured at the empty chair in front of his desk. “They always have so many questions.”

“How is Vaan doing?” She asked.

Daisy knew a lot about the technical pats of Vaan’s powerful ability. She also knew she threw her combat ranking match for whatever reason. Maybe Dr. Johnson had some insight into that.

“She’s a sponge.” Johnson gave Daisy a smile. “She is very dedicated to learning this craft, and I am thoroughly impressed.”

Daisy could sense a “but” coming.

“But…I would be remiss if I said she was Hero material. Ms. Vaan has the potential to be a great asset to the Hero community, or any community for that matter, but I don’t think she has what it takes to be a Hero.”

“Thanks for the diagnosis, Doc.” Daisy pulled out Vaan’s file from her leaning tower of paperwork and scribbled a few notes.

“But that’s not why you’re here.” Johnson smiled, and accepted a large booklet that Daisy pulled from the middle of the paperwork tower. He looked at it with suspicion. “It’s been awhile since I’ve done one of these.”

“Me too, but all of my informational and biographical data sections are already filled out. We’ve just got to do your part.” Daisy couldn’t help but feel a few butterflies in her gut.

She’d been trying for years to get Johnson’s brother in New York to do this very thing for her. He always turned her down. She hated the other Johnson for it, but now she knew he’d been doing her a favor. She wasn’t ready for the responsibility. She could barely get her own shit together. She had a metric fuckton of issues to get through, and this Johnson had helped with that. Being surrounded by good people, old friends, and a bit more understanding of what had happened to her mind had helped her treatment by leaps and bounds. Now, she really and truly felt ready.

Of course, that didn’t mean she was going to like taking the psychological evaluation to recertify her Hero status. Just by looking at the booklet she could tell that her and the Doc were going to be here well into the night.

<The sacrifices I make for this country.> Daisy summoned her mental fortitude and dove into it with Johnson.

The start of the analysis was pretty basic. “In the past six months have you felt anxious, worried or scared about a lot of things in your life?”

“Well…Seif al-Din attacked the city less than six months ago, and I saw some of the best Heroes in the city go up against him and come up short; myself included, so there was a little bit of anxiety and worry going on there.” Daisy’s tone was light and almost joking, but Dr. Johnson was taking copious notes. That was just the way he was.

“Did you feel your worry was out of control?”

“No.” That was something she was sure of. “I was able to keep my head, assess the situation, develop a course of action, and execute.”

“Do you feel restless, agitated, frantic, or tense in regards to what happened?”

“I feel agitated, but I still get a solid eight hours every night. Some things are beyond my control and I’ve learned to live with that.”

“Well that covers my next question about sleep.” Johnson smiled as he jotted down a few more things before turning the page. “It is common for people to have an unexpected wave of anxiety or panic lasting up to fifteen minutes. In the past six months have you had any of the following symptoms: heart pounding, sweating profusely, parts of your body begin to tremble uncontrollably, or having difficulty breathing or swallowing.”

<Not in the last six months.>

“I have been diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder from my many many many years of services.” Daisy laid it on thick to emphasis she wasn’t your average patient. “I have not had any of those symptoms in the last six months. I’ve made several breakthroughs concerning my condition and my past that have allowed me to manage things.”

“Any pain in your chest, feeling sick to your stomach, dizziness, cold or hot flashes, fear of losing control, going crazy or dying.”

The memories of her getting lost in her own flashbacks came to the front of her mind, but that hadn’t been for a while. Mastermind had eased a lot of those pressures.

“Not in the last six months, but I have had them in the past.”

“What changed?”

<Don’t I wish I could say.>

Dr. Johnson had been wondering what had happened since she started feeling better, but the legacy of several Presidential Administrations and a mountain of nondisclosure agreements larger than her student files made her keep her mouth shut.

“I found someone I could relate to. Someone who’d been through something similar. They helped me through our shared experiences.” That was the best she could do, and she hoped Johnson didn’t push it.

Since he was an empath he got the gist of her feelings and didn’t push, although he did write a lot of notes. Things went on like that for a few hours. He’d ask questions from the questionnaire and she’d answer them. She’d elaborate when she could, and give generalities where she couldn’t. She hoped it wasn’t hurting her chances in the evaluation, but no matter what she was feeling there were just some things she couldn’t say.

All things considered it wasn’t that different from one of their regular sessions. She’d come a long way from the days when she used to ruin the poor doctor’s furniture. Both of their salaries were grateful that she’d gotten through that part of the process relatively quickly. It was just a really long session. Daisy checked the clock to see three hours had passed by the time Johnson turned to the last page in the booklet.

“Hmm.” He smiled as he looked down at it. “They still end the questionnaire with the same question.” He looked up at Daisy with a small smile. “Why do you want to be a Hero?”

“I don’t want to be one.” Daisy answered immediately. “I am one. It’s what I’ve been for the last sixty-plus years. Hell, I might even be the longest serving Hero out there, but don’t quote me on that.”

Johnson smiled at that as he scribbled it all down.

“That concludes the questionnaire.” Johnson made a few flourishes at the bottom of the last page – that must have been his signature – before closing the booklet and handing it back to Daisy.

“As you know I don’t make the final rulings on these things, but in my professional opinion you have done remarkable work in the last year. I don’t know all the details, and I probably never will, but whatever it is keep on doing it. Whoever you’ve been healing with stay with them. They’re a good influence on you, and anything that’s a good influence on you is a good thing for this school, state, and whole damn country.”

“Holy shit, Doc. I can’t remember the last time you cursed.” Daisy smiled.

“I’m a therapist, not a saint.” Johnson grinned back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get home to the wife and kid. They like it when I’m home for dinner, even if it’s a late one.”

<Johnson’s got kids?> It was the first bit of personal information Daisy had ever heard about the good doctor, and she took that as a very good sign.

Not only had she come a long way in her therapy, but she’d come a long way in developing and maintaining the personal relationships in her life. Dr. Johnson was just one of those people she didn’t even know a year ago and now considered a friend.

<Speaking of dinner.> It was her turn to pick up the take-out on the way home.

Topher’s shift didn’t get off until ten, so they’d both be getting home late, and she very much felt like expressing how much she valued their personal relationship tonight.

<Fried chicken and sex. What more can a man ask for?>

If there was something more, Daisy hadn’t come across it in her 88 years.

 

***

 

Cars lined the street going in both directions. Parking in this side-street housing area was normally pretty bad. Students found open spots and parked there for the day when they had class. At night, when they were looking for a party, they parked there too. Despite the cars parked bumper to bumper, Seth still had excellent situational awareness.

<I see you…and you…and you.> He picked out the DVA agents keeping a close eye on him. He even noticed the surveillance van.

It took him a little longer to identify the DVA’s mobile command post, but there was only so many times a utilities van can show up in the same vicinity as you before you take notice.

<I hope you enjoy watching a bunch of underage kids get shitfaced.> Seth grinned as he walked down the street. He’d pregamed enough to have a little buzz already.

The house that was his destination was already vibrating on its foundation and just about bursting at the seams with people. Guys and gals stood on the spacious front porch and chatted while sipping out of red solo cups. Most were in various levels of inebriation, with the most extreme already sucking face and making bad decisions.

If all went well, then Seth would be among them soon.

“S-Man!” The loud and boisterous voice of Butch filed the room. “Now we can start the party.” The big man gave Seth the bro half-hug and pointed him toward the keg. “Liquor is by the bar and the ladies are everywhere.”

They clinked their plastic cups together and Butch walked away to pursue his own goals. Seth had his own mission tonight, as he slipped into the crowd. He talked to the girls that came up to him – a lot of girls – but didn’t seek out any female companionship. He already had enough on his mind when dealing with the fairer sex.

He kept an eye on his surroundings as the night progressed. There were three DVA agents in the party with him. They always had one with a direct line of sight to him while the other two moved through the house to secure better vantage points. It kept Seth on the move and them constantly guessing.

He was just waiting for the right moment.

“Your eyes are so green.”

He was talking to a cute brunette when he saw his chance. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

That could only mean one thing, and the girl looked like she’d been waiting for it.

“Sure.” They walked up the stairs conspiratorially. The girl didn’t want her friends to know she was sneaking off to bone a guy she’d just met. Seth wanted to gain an extra ten seconds on the DVA.

“The room at the end of the hall should be free.” Seth pointed to Butch’s room. The big guy wouldn’t mind if a willing woman found her way into his bed. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom really quick.”

“Hurry back.” The alcohol made her think she looked sexier than she was as she sauntered toward the room.

The moment her back was turned, Seth moved with a purpose. He made it to the bathroom and locked the door. From there he went to the window. It was on the side of the house, so there were less people about to see his crazy stunt. He lowered himself out of the second-story window, fully extended his arms so he had the least amount of distance to drop, and then let go. He summoned a little bit of wind to break his fall, and he rolled with the impact. It jolted him and didn’t feel great, but he didn’t hurt himself like the trial earlier today.

From there he scrambled to his feet and headed toward the fence. He easily hopped it into the property next door – a sorority that was having a pool party.

“Ladies.” He gave the dozens of bikini-clad girls a nod as he proceeded to their back fence readied to jump it.

His goal was to put as much space between him and the DVA as possible. He had a rental car waiting around the block. He just had to get to it.

“Seth?” A familiar voice called form behind him.

Seth stopped with his hands on the top of the fence. His mind told him not to turn around, but his crotch insisted. Seth turned his head to look over his shoulder where Izzy was standing by the pool. Like all the other girls she was in a bikini and holding some mixed drink with little umbrellas in it.

The HCP did wonders for a person’s body – male or female – and he couldn’t help but notice that. Of course, she noticed him noticing, and it was awkward. Their last meeting hadn’t ended well.

“What are you doing here? Are you stalking me now?” The last line was delivered with a hint of a grin on her lips.

“Sorry, just passing through.” Seth made sure to look her in the eyes.

He started to pull himself over the fence. He didn’t have time to wonder why she was at a bikini sorority party.

“Wait!” She called and ran over to him. The running over part made it all the more difficult to leave. “I just wanted to apologize.” She looked appropriately contrite, or as contrite as possible in her current wardrobe. “I pushed you last time and that wasn’t right. You were right that I’m a bit new to this, and I should take your lead a little more.”

Seth really needed to move or this whole diversion bit was going to be pointless, but he felt obligated to respond. “No, it’s my fault. I was an ass, and you didn’t deserve that. You’re actually pretty awesome,” he waved his hands up and down to emphasize her awesome bod, “I’ve just got a lot of shit on my plate.”

“I got it.” She smiled. “I’ll take it easy on you.” The wink she gave Seth really made him want to stay, but he couldn’t put it off any longer.

“See ya.” He vaulted over the fence and merged with another group of partygoers heading for another party on a parallel street.

He walked normally because nothing stood out more than a person running around. Luckily, the group walked right past the rental car he had waiting, so he was able to hop right in and pull out into the suburban streets. He took the long way to get out. He stuck to side streets and avoided anything that looked like a government vehicle or the surveillance van because there was no way they hadn’t noticed he was gone.

Once he was sure no one was following him he got on the highway and headed toward downtown Orlando. He didn’t stay on it long. He got off in a not-so-nice part of town and found a rundown bodega – one he knew didn’t have any video cameras.

The young guy behind the cash register barely even looked up as Seth walked in and got what he needed. He paid in cash and headed back to the rental. He drove to another sketchy location beneath an overpass, parked the car, and opened the bag.

There were half a dozen disposable cell phones with extra sim cards. He ripped open the plastic packaging and plugged the charger into the port with shaking hands. He knew this was a horrible idea, but he had to do it.

He’d considered using the burner phone he’d found in his pocket in the dining hall, but it all seemed too coincidental. He hadn’t seen any flash of darkness to indicate that Liz was the person that slipped it into his pocket. It could be the DVA fucking with him, and trying to get him to incriminate himself. He wasn’t going to fall for their trap, so he got his own phones.  He still had the old phone, but it was somewhere secure until he figured everything out.

Once the new phone had enough power he flipped it open and dialed a number he’d memorized once he realized who’d called him. Seth had zero hope of actually talking to Liz when the line connected. He knew she wasn’t dumb enough to keep the phone that the DVA was trying to backtrack to her. Seth also knew she had to have someone working her tech side of things. A person didn’t break out of prison or do all the things she’d done without top-notch tech support. It just wasn’t possible in the world they lived in. Whether it was a Super or a criminal team of hackers didn’t matter. He just hoped she was monitoring the line.

The line rang for a solid few minutes before a returning a “this line is no longer in service” recording, but Seth also heard some weird crackles when it was ringing. He wasn’t a cyber expert, but he knew someone was listening. Either it was Liz or the DVA. Liz he’d answer. The DVA he would just dump the phone.

<That’s why I bought a dozen sim cards, but I need to keep moving.> Seth put the car back into drive and sped away from the underpass.

His eyes kept jumping back and forth from the road to the mirrors in search of anyone tailing him. He didn’t see anything as he pulled into an underground parking garage, parked, and dialed the number again. He got the same result.

He did that six more times before he called it a night. To anyone else it might look like someone was placing random calls and trying to get ahold of someone. He was sure the DVA had tried this approach already, and he had no idea if his would work, but he had one thing the DVA didn’t. Each stop he made was in a place that meant something to him and Liz. They’d done some very rated X things in half of those locations. He made a call from a parking lot of their favorite restaurant, and made the final call from just outside the rebuilt Sprout coffee shop where she was almost kidnapped.

<Holy Shit, she might have been in on that whole thing.> That almost made him regret doing this in the first place.

He sat there the longest trying to figure out if what he was doing was ok. Ultimately, he decided it was. He wasn’t doing anything illegal. He just wanted to talk to her without everyone and their mother listening in.

If Liz was getting the call information, he hoped she’d be able to put all those pieces together.

<This is stupid.> He contradicted himself as he returned the rental and took an cab back to his apartment.

He made sure to stagger to his door when he arrived, because he was sure the DVA was watching his place and radioing in that they’d required him. He went upstairs and quickly chugged some vodka in case they came by. It also helped settle his nerves.

What it didn’t do what erase the image of Izzy in a bikini winking at him.

 

***

 

Half a world away a young technopath recorded and analyzed the incoming calls on the discarded line. He didn’t know what to make of them, so he forwarded the information to the intended recipient.

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A Change of Pace – Season 2 – Chapter 17

Lilly ran along the flawless beach. Her heart pounded, her legs pumped against the added resistance of the sand, but her breathing was deep and even. After her time cooped up in that small cell she wanted to feel the wind in her hair again. Today, she was getting a little more than she bargained for. A monsoon was forecasted to wash over Armsman’s little island paradise in the next few hours and the rain was already starting to pick up. It was starting to move from a drizzle to a pour, but the rain was refreshing on her sun-tanned skin.

<Another half-mile and I’m done.> She told herself as she picked up the pace.

Despite the comfortable equilibrium her body had reached, her mind had more in common with the approaching monsoon. She was deeply conflicted about one thing in particular, and for her it was the only thing that mattered right now: Seth.

She knew she’d fucked up with the phone call. She felt like she was twelve all over again and couldn’t talk to the boy she liked so she hung up on him. That had never happened to her in real life until now, but she saw it in the movies all the time.

<Why am I so nervous?> She’d already done everything and then some with him.

<You know what it is.> Her mind told her what she didn’t want to hear, so she picked up the pace and started to sprint the last quarter-mile. <You don’t want him to reject you.>

It was an emotion as old as time, and one she hadn’t had to worry about before, but her subconscious was right. She was fucking terrified that Seth would toss her to the curb.

<Could I really blame him?> A spark of depression welled up, and she quickly strangled it with her mental bootheel.

<No.> She shook her head to rid herself of the thought and get her damp hair out of her eyes. <We’re going to be fine. We’re meant to be together. All that soulmate shit is real. I’ve felt it. He just needs to be reminded of me and taken away from that little bitch.>

Determination to get her man back flared into jealous rage as she remembered the picture she’d memorized. <What kind of name is Isla Perko anyway.>

Mika had caved and finally compiled a report on the young freshman Seth had been seen hanging out with. She was probably in the HCP too, which was how Lilly got Armsman to ok the expenditure of resources in the first place. It was always good to know who the enemy was going to be in five years.

<She’s cute,> she’d grudgingly admitted. <But she’s too short for Seth, and she has no ass. He needs something to grip on a woman.> The thought of Seth gripping anyone’s ass but hers brought forth a simmering rage that could only be exorcised through vigorous physical activity; thus the running.

Just as Lilly reached the entrance to the underground bunker, the wind started to pick up to wailing level. She had to struggle to pull the door closed behind her, but once she did the majority of the noise was cut down. She walked through the stark steel-lined corridor to another door. She had her biometric data taken by a few separate security measures before being allowed to enter.

In her uncle’s underground home there was no evidence the monsoon was starting to bear down on them from above. There was a whole other natural disaster forming.

“Could you please listen to something recorded after 1970!” She screamed at the oldies music blaring throughout the place. “Would it kill you to put on the Chainsmokers for one song?!”

She didn’t expect to get a reply so she headed to the shower to clean up. Regular training and good food on the island had gotten her back into shape and she did a quick three-sixty in the mirror to evaluate the run’s effectiveness.

<He needs someone with an ass.> She confirmed as she admired her own before stepping into the shower.

She heard the sound of a phone ringing through the music, and was surprised that she was so surprised at the telltale ring. Any other time she wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but this was the first time she’d heard a phone ring at her uncle’s place. She’d thought he didn’t have one.

It was picked up after the third ring, and the music was shut off. She conditioned her hair wondering what was going on, and was rewarded with a knock on the door.

“Stop playing with yourself and get out here.” Armsman’s voice was tense, and since she hardly ever heard him tense she quickly rinsed and wrapped a towel around herself.

“What?” She cracked the door open enough the steam wafted out into her room.

“You’ve got a meeting scheduled in fifteen minutes, so suit up.” He was already wearing his fatigues – minus the mask and arsenal of weapons.

“Meeting? You agreed to a meeting?” She asked warily, her hand grasping for something on the countertop to bash her uncle’s head in if he tried to turn her back into the Heroes.

It was unlikely, but she was never going back to prison, and she’d kill anyone that tried to take her.

“I didn’t have a choice, and neither do you, so get moving.” His voice was hard now, but he turned and walked away.

She didn’t relax though, the brief relief the run had given her had evaporated. She couldn’t fully suit up for this meeting, which made her even more nervous. Her tech genius designed vest had been confiscated by the DVA along with her electromagnetic rifle, so she had to make do with a specialized – but not as special – vest, and an assortment of conventional firearms. Armsman had no shortage of weapons in his home. She wore a long-sleeved compression shirt under the vest, black cargo pants with plenty of pockets for various goodies, and black boots. Her uncle had a small collection of shemaghs, so she took a black one of those. He also had some cheaper copies of her grinning black volto mask.

She made do with five pistols: two in shoulder straps, one on her thigh, one in the small of her back, and a final dainty one in her boot. A few knives went up her sleeves, onto her vest along with ammo, and she teleported a few grenades from her ready table in her underground armory across the world. The darkness that blasted with their arrival was like a gust of fresh air that lingered before dissolving back into the universe.

She looked like Wraith, talked like Wraith, and walked like Wraith, but there was something missing. She couldn’t quite figure out what it was as she joined her uncle. Armsman looked as deadly as ever.

“You break any of my stuff and I break you,” were his parting words to Mika before an explosion of darkness teleported the two villains away.

The location Armsman had been given was cryptic for anyone aside from Lilly. It was a reference to a luxury hotel in downtown Orlando, which gave her a small hint as to who they were meeting. Her suspicions were confirmed as she deposited them in a corner of the room she’d been in before. Only last time guys had been wiring IEDs in here.

The darkness spread out and identified the room to her before dissipating. There were four other men there. Two had weapons on their hips and were definitely human. The other two had no weapons and were definitely not.

“Ah, Wraith. I’m so pleased to see prison was so kind to you. You look as radiant as ever.” Seif al-Din smiled and Lilly felt her skin crawl.

“Yeah sitting in a box and eating soggy oatmeal three times a day was a blast.” She tried to appear nonchalant, but she was waiting for the ambush to start. “I see you brought a friend. How’s it going Damas-douche.”

The silver-haired pyrokinetic looked at her like she was complete garbage, and she returned the sentiment one hundred percent.

“We can skip the pleasantries.” al-Din looked at Damascus and the other terrorist went to the bed to grab a stack of folders.

“Things are a little hot right now.” Lilly stated when Damascus walked over and deposited the stack of files on the desk in front of her. “I’m not really taking new contracts.”

“This is not a new contract.” Seif al-Din stated matter-of-factly. “This is a continuation of your existing one.”

“I smell bullshit.” Armsman finally spoke up. The statement earned him a hard glare from the terrorist leader, but that was it. Armsman was one of the few people in the world that could reliably kill Seif al-Din. The terrorist knew that, and wasn’t about to get on the nullifier’s bad side.

“There is no such bullshit.” The terrorist took a more diplomatic approach and smiled. “Wraith and Hellgate were hired to help me retrieve my dear Fadeelah and they failed.”

“We didn’t fail. I successfully grabbed her and Hellgate…” she didn’t know how to describe her father at first, but the situation quickly made it clear how she needed to define Hellgate. “Well, Hellgate died in the attack, so we don’t owe you shit.”

“On the contrary.” Self al-Din didn’t bat an eye at the news of Hellgate’s death. “You might have grabbed my daughter, but you also led the Heroes right to her. That’s like saying you won a million dollars gambling, but then lost it all in a single roll of the dice. You still ended up with nothing. The same is true here. You still owe me what is due.”

The tension in the room ratcheted up with each word. Lilly’s fingers were itching to get around the trigger and put a couple of holes in Damascus. Her uncle would deal with al-Din. The terrorists felt it too because there was a tense twenty seconds where they all looked at each other like they were in a Mexican standoff.

“However,” al-Din finally broke the tension. “I understand the circumstances you are faced with at such a young age. I myself have lived in your position for decades, and at times it can be unpleasant.”

Lilly didn’t relax but she kept on listening.

“You do still owe me a job.” He made that point abundantly clear. “But I think we can come to an arrangement that is beneficial to both of us.”

Curiosity got the best of her. “What do you have in mind?” She also didn’t want to be on the run from al-Din’s network and the DVA at once.

“I’ve got a new target in mind. You will assist me in finding her, capturing her, and killing everyone she is close to.” al-Din said it all like this was a real-estate transaction.

“Who do you want me to grab?” Lilly wondered what the two of them could have in common.

“I want you to get me Reaper.”

<Hot damn. Spank me and call me auntie luck.> Lilly couldn’t help the smile that dominated her masked face.

“You mean Ms. Meyers.”

She didn’t think she could surprise the legendary terrorist, but his eyebrows nearly shot up into his hair.

“You know who she is?” The calm, almost uninterested tone was back, but it was too late. Lilly knew she had him hooked.

“I know her name, who she is, where she works, and even what type of coffee she likes.” It was a bit of an exaggeration, but she needed to have the upper hand here.

“Then we are in agreement.” al-Din smiled brightly. “You grab me Reaper… Ms. Meyers…and we’ll call it even.”

“Not quite.” Lilly crossed her arms so her hands were only inches away from her pistols. “You want her captured. I want the bitch dead.”

“Ah.” Seif al-Din scratched her trimmed, well-maintained beard. “How about this then. I only need her for a year, maybe two. After that she is all yours to do with as you will.”

Lilly considered it and almost turned it down, but then thought about it. She still had a lot of shit to sort out in her life, knowing Reaper was getting tortured by al-Din for a few years wasn’t that much of a price to pay. She could get things straight and then pop the old Hero in the head when the terrorist was done with her.

<Easy enough.>

“Deal.” She conceded. “But the price is going to go up.”

Damascus looked like he wanted to set her on fire, but she ignored him. If he tried anything Armsman would cut off his hands.

“Picking up Anika was one thing. Picking up a Hero of her status, with her power, from where she is, is not going to be cheap. I’m going to need resources, intel, a whole fucking team working for me.”

“Done.”

How quick al-Din agreed made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

“The team is already assembled and has made a probing move against Reaper and the local authorities. They will try again soon if you want to be a part of it.” He held out his hand toward her. “I can make the necessary introductions.”

She looked at the hand for a moment before taking it. Not taking it would be a sign of weakness. Armsman gripped her shoulder, but before Damascus could come closer she teleported away in a wave of black.

They went to a nondescript cave in a barren island in the Mediterranean before hopping back to the location al-Din gave her. It was a dilapidated warehouse in section of the city formerly held by the Fist. The Super gang had long since been demolished by the Heroes, but a few of their properties had been passed on to other less-than-legitimate enterprises.

Seif al-Din didn’t looked surprised or concerned that Damascus hadn’t come along for the ride. Instead, he walked forward like he owned the place. Which he probably did.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” He approached a man and two women.

The man had on a stained, formerly white wife beater. One well-muscled woman had a jumpsuit stripped down to her waist and wasn’t wearing anything other than a sports bra while she worked over a punching bag. The second woman was sitting at a table cleaning a collection of knives. All she did was raise her eyes at the approaching newcomers.

“May I introduce the newest addition to your team. Wraith, this is the team” Stal, Nightingale, and Vortex.”

“The muscles, the brains, and transportation?” Lilly guessed correctly.

The moment al-Din nodded Lilly moved. In a fluid motioned honed by over a decade of training, she drew one of her shoulder-holstered pistols, pointed it at the man, and shot him between the eyes. The only person who seemed surprised by the action was the man, and he was dead before he hit the ground.

“Hello,” she put the smoking barrel back in the holster. “I’m Wraith, your new transportation.”

 

***

 

Seth sat alone at a lunch table shunning any other forms of social contact. He even gave people the stink eye when they tried to sit down at the tables on either side of him. After a few attempts by people to make contact word spread to not sit by the weird guy in the corner.

Seth didn’t give two shits if people thought he was weird or not. His thoughts were too chaotic. A whirlwind of emotions raged inside of him, and what he wanted to do most was go home, get drunk, take a nap, and then figure out his next move.

Seth picked his head up and scanned the room. Sitting about fifty feet away were a man and a woman. They looked young, but they couldn’t quite pull off the late teenage look. It was the way their eyes kept scanning the room that gave them away. Normal teenagers were too self-absorbed to know what was going on around them most of the time. These two were constantly focused outward.

<More like constantly focused on me.> When they looked his way Seth gave the two undercover DVA agents a wave. They might be twenty-one jump streeting this thing, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

He turned back to his barely-touched meal and opened the chocolate milk. He took a long sip before pulling a small flask from his pocket. Both the milk and the flask disappeared beneath the table, and in an expert show of skill he mixed the two beverages by touch alone. When he was finished the milk had a nice tingle of Kahlua to it.

“Hey Seth.”

Seth didn’t even turn as Izzy approached, ignored the invisible boundaries he’d set up, and took a seat. “Freshman.” Was his only response.

“That’s how this is gonna be.” She raised an eyebrow as she raised a burger to her mouth.

Seth had a joke about girls and meat in their mouth ready to go, but he stomped on it. He wasn’t in the mood to encourage her today.

“I guess so.” He turned away from her and moved his food around a little with his fork.

“Brooding isn’t nearly as cute as you guys think it is. I blame all of those vampire books. A whole generation of girls are into dark, older, brooding guys with a fetish for biting.”

Seth couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his lips, but he could stop her from seeing it. “What do you want freshman?”

“I have a name you know.” A hint of irritation leaked into Izzy’s voice.

He thought it better not to answer, and it succeeded in making her even more pissed.

“Cut out this mopey shit, Seth.” She scorned him. “We’re way past the freshman hazing. When you put down plastic to pay for bras that kind of took away you playing your upperclassman card.”

“Don’t feel so special. I’ve bought clothing for lots of women, and I’ve taken plenty of it off too.” He succeeded in silencing her judgment for a few minutes.

He speared a slice of the school’s meatloaf with his fork and tasted it. He had to force himself to swallow the hard, dry piece of quasi-meat, and resigned to pick something more edible up after HCP training.

“Why are those two watching you?” Izzy spoke up again.

“Good eye.” The compliment slipped out. “Those are the two DVA agents they have on me twenty-four-seven in case I turn to the dark side on a whim.”

“Aren’t they supposed to be protecting you?”

That got a harsh laugh from Seth. “They couldn’t protect me from an angry chihuahua. If Wraith comes for me there’s nothing that Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus looking suits could do about it.”

“If you need some protection I could…”

“No.” Seth cut her off, finally looking up into her black eyes. “I’ve got enough dead people on my conscious. I don’t need to add you to the list.”

Izzy’s face went from happy Seth was finally looking at her to irritated in a flash. “Are you saying I can’t look after myself?”

“That’s what I’m saying, Freshman.” Seth returned his attention to his food.

“I am third in my class with a top notch defensive power. Coach Meyers says I might even be capable of more.”

“Coach Meyers is a cold-hearted bitch, but even I know she’d laugh in your face if you thought you could stand up to Wraith.” Set pushed on as Izzy blushed with embarrassment. “Don’t start thinking of yourself as hot shit because you’re top five in an HCP class. Wraith has taken on Heroes with decades of experience. She was accused of killing one. She didn’t, but she blew him up pretty good. She also injured Seraphim enough to take her out of a fight. SERAPHIM!” he exclaimed. “The same Hero that took out an entire Mexican drug cartel solo.” His hard, green eyes looked back up at her. “Do you think she doesn’t already know who you are?”

He saw the first glimpses of fear on Izzy’s face. He didn’t want to see her afraid, but she needed to know the shitstorm she was blindly walking into.

“I got a call from her on my new phone. That means that she had people look up my new number. If she’s having people looking into me then she knows about the DVA security, she knows about my friends, and now she knows about you.”

Now the freshman hero-in-training’s eye were wide.

“From there it isn’t a big leap to figure out you’re in the HCP. All it would take was one anonymous phone call and you’d be kicked to the curb for an SI infraction that you aren’t even guilty of. She probably wouldn’t even stop there. I’d stay away from dark places and walk with a buddy for a while.”

Fear, anger, and determination spread across Izzy’s face. It was enough that Seth had to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“My aura will protect me. She can come at me in a dark parking garage if she wants. She’s just a teleporter.”

“Then you’re already on the way to being dead if you think she’d just going to come after you in a parking garage. She’ll drop the whole structure on your fucking head, Izzy, and she won’t bat an eye.”

Izzy’s expression told him she thought he was pulling her leg, until he told her she’d already done that before. “I can take care of myself.” She remined defiant.

“Whatever you say. I’m just saying you need to stay away from me and your life will be easier. Keep talking with me and butting into my shit and you might get something dropped on your head when you least expect it.”

“How is my life going to be easier if I abandon the people I’m trying to protect. I’m training to be a Hero. That means more than punching things.”

“True.” Seth acknowledged the point. “But you’re still a freshman. The next nine months are all about punching things. If you can’t punch things then they aren’t going to let you get to the point to see what you’re really made of. That brings me back to my original point. Stay away from me Iz, and you might get what you want out of life.”

It was only then that he realized how close Iz was to Liz. He looked down at the food as the empty feeling in his chest spread to his face.

“I learned long ago that life can take a dump on you whenever. You’ve got to make the best of it, roll with the punches, and do what you want. If you let other people dictate how you live you aren’t really living.” She got up and grabbed her tray. “I’ll see you around, Seth.”

“Motivational words, freshman.” He returned to the generic name. “A lot harder to live by than you think.”

She didn’t reply to that. She just walked away and left Seth all alone with his shitty meatloaf. Her words did strike a chord with him though. They were basically a less harsh version of what a lot of people had been saying to him for months.

<And if everyone was saying the same thing then they probably have a point.> He took a deep breath, let it out, and made a call.

Five minutes later he had an appointment with Dr. Johnson, the HCP’s psychologist. Maybe just maybe, if Seth got to lay down on a couch and vent a little he would feel better.

He went to put his phone back in his pocket and felt it clink against something. <What the hell?> He reached in past his phone and pulled out the unknown object.

It was an old flip phone, like the kind they used ten years ago. It was small and boxy, and for a second Seth thought the DVA was pulling some weird shit on him. <Did they just record my whole conversation.> His irritation made the air in the cafeteria stir, but he quickly regained control with a few deep breaths. <Might need to talk about my anger issues too.>

A small screen on the front of the phone glowed light blue with a message, so he flipped it opened and hit the message box. There, in blocky letters were here words that shattered Seth’s composure.

I MISS YOU

It was like Seth had gripped the tale of a King Cobra. He jumped up from the table and was ready to bash to phone against the table until there was nothing left but broken plastic and circuitry. He even brought his fist up to smash it down – but his arm didn’t move.

Memories raced through his mind. Watching her punch out the drug dealer in yoga pants, their blissful Christmas break, basically every night over the last semester, and finally the last time they spoke. The pain and fear in her eyes when Mr. Morningstar revealed to him who she really was. She’d professed her love over and over again. She told him not to listen to them, that they were trying to manipulate him, but he didn’t say anything. He was too shocked to even open his mouth. Before he knew it, he was being escorted from the building, and he didn’t hear her voice again until recently.

So, he didn’t smash the phone. A few people were looking at him awkwardly because he’d jumped out of his seat, but he knew they’d write it off to the weird guy being weird. He grabbed his tray – making sure to keep the burner phone hidden beneath it – and returned his uneaten food to the window. Once he had enough people between him and the DVA goons he slipped the phone in his pocket and tried to forget about it.

It was the equivalent of walking around with a nuke in your pocket. It was hard to ignore, but he did his best. The first team trial was today and he needed to get his head out of his ass. They were about to go up against teams that had been training and strategizing for weeks. All Erin had them doing was working out while she stared off into nothingness.

When he reached the HCP and the DVA lackeys abandoned their constant shadowing, Seth had two things weighing fifty-fifty on his mind: what was he going to say to Liz, and how bad was he going to get his ass kicked?

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A Change of Pace – Season 2 – Chapter 14

<This place isn’t that bad.> Scarlett Vaan thought idly as she typed away on her keyboard.

Homework had never really been a problem for the young woman. She followed along in class, took good notes, applied herself in exercises, and that led to a solid ability to grasp concepts quickly. All of that made her a good student, and being a good student got her accepted into West Private’s Doctoral Program.

The key difference between being an undergrad and being a doctoral candidate was the quality and quantity demanded of her. Her whole life was supposed to be this doctoral program. She was supposed to completely dedicate herself to the study of the human mind.

<But I can’t.> She mentally sighed. <Because someone has to pay the bills.>

Even with all the grants and work-study programs she participated in through the university, the tuition was still expensive.

“Good evening, Ms. Vaan.” A voice greeted from behind her that made the young Super tense.

She took a deep breath to get control of herself and then plastered a confident smile on her face. “Agent Phillips. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Here” was a nice, recently renovated coffee shop. It was pretty modern, but Scarlett could still see remnants of its hipster past poking through. It was packed nearly to capacity with college students. Some were doing work like Scarlett and others were hanging out, joking, and all together annoying the people trying to work.

“We like to keep an eye on people around campus now-a-days.”

<That’s very Big Sister of you.> Scarlett didn’t speak her thoughts out loud. Instead she tried to get a look at why the DVA agent was here.

Her attempt was met with a static sound. The DVA agent couldn’t keep all of her thoughts away from a skilled telepath, but she had decent defenses. That, and Scarlett still needed training to hone her gift and wasn’t going to poke around too deep. That wouldn’t do her any good.

“I’m honored.” The younger Super answered dryly. “What can I do for you? I assume you’re making contact to ask a favor of some kind.”

“It’s not a favor when we fund your college tuition, room and board, and give you a sizable stipend on top of an offer of future employment once you’ve finished your degree. It’s called an assignment.”

She had Scarlett there. The DVA was footing the bill for everything in return for her working for them after she graduated. Not as a Hero though. There was no way in hell Scarlett was going to finish four years of the HCP. If she really wanted it she was confident she could, but she didn’t want it. She was just here for the basic training and then it was all about school until she was a Ph.D.

“What’s my assignment then?”

“Who. Who is your assignment.” Agent Phillips corrected as she slipped a folder across the table.

It was plain manila and would have looked commonplace in any office in the country. Scarlett took it like it was no big deal, because doing a shady handoff would draw a lot more attention than two people seemingly exchanging notes. She flipped it open causally and studied the first page of the dossier.

“Cute.” She stated. “I’ve seen him around.”

“Good. We want you to keep tabs on him. Gather any information you can by extraordinary means.”

<She means using my ability not enhanced interrogation.> Scarlett just wished these government types would be a little more straightforward sometimes.

Part of Scarlett knew she could only do passive surveillance on anyone the DVA wanted her to, but a part of her wanted to be a little more active. She was still experimenting with her powers and starting to combine them with the knowledge she was gathering in her academic studies. She had a few ideas about techniques she wanted to try, but she need a human mind to do it. Her powers didn’t work on anything else. She assumed the HCP and DVA would frown on her hiring some stoner at minimum wage to pry around in his brain.

Right now, she could only think of one way to use her abilities.

“I also wanted to speak to you about your ranking.” The agent lowered her voice.

“What about it?” Scarlett did the same and had to stop from smiling at how ridiculous they must look.

“We would appreciate if you put forward a little more effort. At least give it the good old college try.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Scarlett smiled.

<Yeah, like I’m going to take HCP advice from a human who’s never been in one. I like my facial structure the way it is. I don’t want to take the chance and get my ass kicked all for the sake of someone’s report back to HQ.> She scoffed internally.

“Good.” The agent scanned the room. “We’ll be in touch.”

Just like that the government agent got up and walked out. One of the servers looked a little upset that she hadn’t ordered anything, but it was busy enough that she quickly faded from memory.

Scarlett on the other hand had one more thing on her plate.

<I get why they want me to watch Seth Abney, but they seriously can’t bring in another telepath to sit around and listen to his thoughts. I’ve got shit to do.> She also knew why the DVA wasn’t going to spend the cash to do that. They’d already bought her. Why would they shop around when they already had someone in place to do exactly what they wanted?

For the first time since signing that contract with the DVA before school, Scarlett wondered what exactly she’d gotten herself into.

 

***

 

Seth sat at the bar sipping his drink. He had a small pyramid of shot glasses piled up in front of him that he’d purposefully stopped the bartender from collecting multiple times. The place wasn’t too busy yet. It was still early. He liked to get a jump on the evening’s festivities. This place was pretty common with the college students. It didn’t serve underage kids knowingly. Seth looked like he could be in his early twenties and his fake ID was perfect. There were some people walking around with big X’s drawn in permanent marker on their hands, and that number was steadily starting to grow. Despite that, people were avoiding the drunk guy at the corner of the bar.

<Good.> Seth knocked back another shot and savored the burn of the alcohol going down his throat.

The sensation made him feel alive in a time when everything else was bullshit.

<How the fuck did she escape?> He wasn’t the only one thinking that. He was pretty sure the entire DVA was working on that.

Honestly, he didn’t really care about the how. He cared about what was going to happen next. Something deep inside him really wanted to see Liz again. He wanted to see her walk through that door like she owned the place. He wanted to see her hips sway and the way her smile seemed to dwarf everything else around her.

He knew he shouldn’t want it. It was like an addict knowing they wanted to get high but knew it was killing them. Liz was his drug, and he was pretty sure the feeling wasn’t going away any time soon. He was also scared. He was scared she was going to show up. He was scared she was going to walk through that door with her smile and bring a shitstorm down on his head.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d never done anything to help Liz in committing her crimes. He’d just been a good boyfriend, or at least he thought he had. Now he wasn’t so sure. <What kind of person lets a person like her live right under his nose and never senses anything?>

It was the question he’d been asking himself for months, and he was no closer to an answer.

He waved his hand and another shot slid down the bar towards him. He caught it with a grace that seemed to ignore his blood alcohol level and downed it smoothly.

“Whoa, slow down there, champ.” A woman sat down next to Seth. The first to take the chance. “Save some for the rest of us.”

The woman was certainly cute, but Seth wasn’t in any state of mind to put in any effort to get laid. “Seat’s taken.” He replied sullenly.

“Yeah, I know. My ass is on it.” She ignored his surprised looked and ordered a shot of what he was drinking.

She just sat there after that. She didn’t say a word or even make eye contact with him. At one point she did sweep some of her loose silver hair behind her ear, but that was about it. She looked like her attention was somewhere else.

<Weird.> He shrugged, and continued his mission to build the boozy pyramids of Giza in front of him.

He only had two up when another person came running up to ruin his solitude.

“Hey, Seth!” Izzy was dressed for a night out and a group of girls followed behind her.

He appraised them quickly and thoroughly. He’d have sex with any of them any other night. Even if they were freshmen.

“I’m solo drinking, Izzy. This better be important.” He spun around on his stool and nearly toppled onto his face. She caught him before he fell, and he saw her blush from the physical contact.

She quickly let go as he righted himself.

“I just wanted to say hello and see what you think.” She modeled her outfit for him.

It took a minute for him to recognize it was some of the clothes he’d bought for her when they went shopping a few days ago. They really did look good on her.

“I also wanted to see if you were up for another drive sometime.” The words rushed out of her mouth so fast they nearly strung together. Then a panicked look came over her face. “I mean, you don’t have to buy me anything…unless you want to. I’m not opposed to it, but I really just want to get behind the wheel again.”

Seth was sure there was a sexual innuendo in there somewhere, but he bit his lip.

“Izzy, I…” He stopped not really knowing what to say.

Her face dropped, and he felt bad for her.

“Izzy.” He took a deep breath and tried to clear some of the alcoholic daze out for a moment. “You’re a good person, and I’m an asshole. You’re just getting your first year started, and you’re doing pretty well from what I hear. Third in the class?” He referred to the combat rankings.

She nodded, blushing again.

“Rumor is that you’ve got some serious talent, so I’m going to give you some free advice. Don’t hang out with people that are going to drag you down. Focus on school and your extracurriculars. You really don’t have time for anything else.”

Seth would have felt all noble if it wasn’t for the look of rejection on the younger girl’s face. His stomach rebelled at the sight, and he didn’t think it was totally from the booze.

“I’m just trying to be nice. You’re a good guy underneath all this whatever you might think.”

“You’re not my mother, Izzy.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I don’t need you telling me who I am, what I’m capable of, and I don’t need a pity party thrown in my honor. I’ll be fine.”

Izzy looked shocked for a second before her face grew hard. It was a look he’d never seen before on her.

“Sometimes you’re an ass, Seth.” She spun, her styled black hair splaying around her as she marched away.

“Finally, we’re in agreement.” He muttered to himself as he turned back to the bar.

The silver-haired girl was gone, but another woman in his life was approaching.

“I can hear her mental grumbles about you being a stubborn bastard all the way over there.” Kyoshi took the seat next to him.

Her and Mason were here for the karaoke, not the drinking. The pair actually made a good duet.

“It’s better this way. She was getting attached to a suspect in a DVA investigation. That wouldn’t have done her any favors. They’re probably already watching her because I bought her some clothes.”

“Maybe,” Kyoshi shrugged. “But don’t ruin any chance of happiness because you think people will get hurt being around you. You are training to be a Hero.” She dropped her voice low. “And so is she.”

“If I didn’t know any better I swear you were trying to fix me up.” Seth shook his head, but couldn’t hide his smile.

“I know by now that Seth Abney doesn’t need any help in that department.” She smiled back.

“Damn straight.” A beer arrived for Seth and he took a long pull from it.

“How about you stop drinking for tonight and come sit with us.” Kyoshi pointed over toward the tables gathered around a small raised stage.

“Is it just the two of you?” His vision was blurry enough that it was harder to see. “No Anika or Angela.”

“Just me and Mason.”

“Good.” Seth got to his feet and walked in a remarkably straight line toward the strongman sitting alone at one of the tables. “Because I can’t deal with anyone bitching to me right now.”

Despite the momentary distraction, Liz was always on his mind.

 

***

 

“So, what do you think?”

“What do you mean what do I think?”

Daisy and Debora were sitting next to each other at the dinner table. The Phillips family had moved the meal outside because of the comfortable weather. The porch was still screened in to deal with all of the bugs but aside from that they were as close to nature as they were going to get. Topher and Debora’s mother was helping cart dishes from the kitchen outside, and their father was judging Topher’s grilling.

“Abney?” Debora gave Daisy a small glare and she pitched her voice lower. “I don’t trust the kid.”

Daisy thought carefully about what she said next. “Abney might be a douchebag, but I don’t think he’d ever knowingly support someone like Wraith. He’s probably conflicted about everything that’s happened, but we need to put a little bit of trust in the guy. He is a sophomore in the HCP.”

“If he helped Wraith at all it was indirectly: money, influence, or some abstract us of his power maybe. And then there is the report of the assault and tree.” Debora continued.

“From what I understand he has a solid alibi for Wraith’s escape. Probably the best one of any suspect ever. He was in the middle of an HCP subtlety class with one of the most renowned spies in the southeast. As for the other two. The guy was confirmed DUI at the scene by Campus Police. He says he got in a fight with a guy matching Abney’s description, but he also could have walked into a pole for all we know. Concerning the tree, we live in Florida. Sink holes swallow peoples’ homes down here. It’s not outside reason that a tree just fell over without elemental manipulation.”

Debora frowned. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m on the side of catching Wraith. Not just catching anyone or accusing them of stuff without solid evidence.”

“Well, one guy got what he had coming.”

Daisy had gotten a picture of the crime scene photos. One of the guards had tried to get Wraith out and he’d lost his head because of it. Daisy had a pretty good idea about who could make a cut like that.

“Yep,” Daisy sipped on a glass of sweet tea. “Don’t team up with supervillains.”

Mrs. Phillips slid into the seat beside Debora and the conversation ceased. Soon the chicken was done and they were all happily enjoying a well-cooked meal and each other’s company. Daisy lathered BBQ sauce on her chicken and took a healthy helping of greens to get her vegetables for the day.

“So, Daisy,” Mrs. Phillips suddenly turned her attention on the younger-looking Super. “When are we going to get to meet your parents?”

Topher’s fork stopped hallway to his mouth. “Mom…”

“No, it’s ok.” Daisy patted him on the knee. “My parents aren’t around anymore. They died when I was younger.”

“That’s terrible.” And it looked like she actually meant it. “It’s awful when disease takes a parent so young. It leaves an impression on the child too. Was it cancer?”

<Old age.> Daisy told the truth in her head.

“My Dad was wounded in the war and that eventually caught up with him.” Daisy covered.

“Vietnam wasn’t fun.” Mr. Phillips got a sad look in his eye for a moment before shaking his head and taking a bite of chicken.

<Neither was World War II or Korea.>

“Where are you from, Daisy?” Mrs. Phillips followed up by shifting the conversation.

“Mom.” Topher grumbled. “What’s with the interrogation?”

“What? I can’t ask my son’s serious girlfriend about her life. We hardly know anything about her.”

Daisy smiled at the serious girlfriend part, but still caught the backhanded snark at the end. Even if what Topher’s mom was saying was true. They didn’t know a lot about her for national security reasons, but there were some basic facts she could tell them without compromising herself.

“Originally, I’m from Savannah, but I’ve lived and worked in a lot of places.”

“Where?”

“Mom…please.” Topher knew she couldn’t go into too much more detail.

“Before here I was up in New York City.”

“Topher used to be with the NYPD. You two might have even run into each other before.”

“Mom, there are millions of people in New York City and we didn’t even live in the same part of town.”

“Where did you live before the city?” His mom ignored him and continued on with the polite interrogation.

“After I graduated college I worked in LA for two years.”

“Tried the whole acting thing? I thought about it when I was young, but never took the leap and moved out there.” Mrs. Phillips focused on something in her past and that gave Topher the opportunity to shoot his dad a warning glare.

“No acting for me,” Daisy shrugged, “but I did meet some famous people.

<And was the famous person.> LA in the sixties and seventies had been crazy.

“How about you, Debora. How is your work going?” Mr. Phillips took his son’s cue and changed the direction of the conversation.

That was how dinner went. Mrs. Phillips tried to get more and more details out of Daisy about her life, and was more and more disappointed when she didn’t have much to give. Having no living family earned Daisy some pity points, but they wouldn’t last long.

“Wow, protective mamma bear alert.” Debora chuckled as she and Daisy started washing the dishes inside.

“What?”

“Mom thinks you and her baby boy are getting serious enough to start digging through your life looking for dirt.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Hmm.” Debora scratched her chin with a soapy hand.  “It’s good that she’s finally seeing you in a similar way to Topher. Being on the same page is important for them. On the other hand, there isn’t much dirt for her to find.”

“Because all of that dirt is hidden behind firewalls at the DVA.”

“That…and you’re really old. Oh god,” a spark of something flashed across her face. “I just realized your older than my mom.”

Daisy hoped she’d gloss over that little fact.

“And you’re dating my younger brother…ewww…your code name should be Cougar.”

“Fuck you.” Despite the cursing both women were grinning.

“After dinner drink?” She asked. “Dad and Topher are going to have a man talk. Safe sex will probably be on the agenda, so it’ll do us both some good to get some alcohol in our system. Where does my bro keep the good stuff?”

Daisy gave her directions and she came back a minute later with a nice bottle of scotch. She opened it and poured a healthy helping for them both

“To being one of the family.”

Daisy didn’t drink it, but she didn’t want to be rude and ruin the moment. The comment still took her by surprise. “Whoa now.”

“I’m just saying.” Debora winked and took a big swig. “Ahhh that’s good shit.”

The conversation didn’t turn back toward Daisy’s past or the unusual courtship her and Topher seemed to be in the middle of. Mostly, Debora just got tipsier, didn’t notice that Daisy never touched her glass, and told stories that Daisy would use to blackmail Topher in the future. The best were the ones when she made her little brother dress up like a girl and sit in on her tea parties. Daisy didn’t know what was more surprising about that: that Topher had been forced to cross-dress, or that Debora had tea parties.

Unfortunately, all good things eventually came to an end. Daisy called Debora an Uber to get her back to her hotel. The parents retired to the guest room around nine-thirty, which left her and Topher alone.

“Did I pass?” Daisy cut right to the chase. “I’ll have to review my cover story when I get into work on Monday, but I’m sure I didn’t say anything that would give me away.”

“Sorry about that.” Topher polished off his last drink. “Mom does that sometimes.”

“Sometimes being when you’re getting serious with someone.” She got up from her seat, sat down in his lap, and gave him a quick kiss. She didn’t want to taste the alcohol on his tongue.

“Sorry.” He apologized again.

“Don’t apologize that we’re getting serious.” She gave him a stern look. “I’m not.”

“Me neither.” He kissed her back, and they spent a couple of minutes like that.

They couldn’t do any more while his parents were staying there. Neither of them was willing to risk that awkwardness.

“Let’s go to bed.” Topher meant it in as much of a plutonic way as he could after making out with her.

“I’ll be right behind you. I just need to grab something.”

Topher climbed the stairs as she walked back into the kitchen. She needed her laptop to check on any recent updates concerning the Wraith case. There was a good chance the supervillain would come back to town, and the HCP needed to be ready.

“Reaper.” He codename was whispered right next to her ear.

If she hadn’t been a seasoned Hero she probably would have blown the circuit breaker. Electricity flashed across her body, enough to stun a strongman if he was standing too close. Some of that electricity coursed into her brain and heightened her perception. She spun, ducking down into a crouch as she took in the room. Her eyes searched for the enemy but found nothing.

“Reaper.” The voice repeated itself, but no one was here.

It was only Daisy, the kitchen light, and the natural darkness that was permeating the rest of the room.

“Meet me.” The voice asked before reading off an address.

“That’s a big fuck no.” Electricity still crackled along her skin as she marched around the room double checking every nook and cranny. It was always possible someone had planted a microphone somewhere.

“Not even as a favor for an old friend.”

That stopped Daisy in her tracks. <No one is here but someone is speaking to me.> The number of people who could do that and would call her an old friend was a very short list. Under the circumstances, only one made sense.

“Night?”

“Meet me.” The voice repeated the address but sounded amused this time.

“Fuck me.” Daisy huffed, but didn’t get a reply.

If she didn’t know any better she would have thought the old gang was getting back together. Which begged the bigger question of what the fuck was going on?

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A Chance of Pace – Season 2 – Chapter 12

“Target acquired.”

“Moving into position now.”

<A phone.> It was almost comical how the DVA had caught back up to Wraith. <A find my phone app. Wow.>

Seth watched it all unfold from his seat in Dean Ditmar’s office back in Florida. The DVA agents still flanked him, and occasionally shot him looks, but everyone’s eyes were on the large screen on the Dean’s wall. They’d been able to set up a VTC with the operation’s tactical operations center across the country.

They weren’t the only ones. Most of the HCP deans and half of the players in Washington were watching the operation unfold.

<Geez, she’s just one woman.> Seth knew it wasn’t just that, but still the amount of resources being allocated seemed extreme.

He knew Liz needed to be caught for what she’d done. She’d killed people, helped with a terrorist attack, and done a bunch of other stuff he didn’t want to think about. He also knew that the Feds needed to place all of the bad shit that had happened at someone’s feet. Without Seif al-Din, it was Wraith’s burden to bear.

That was why local and state police, SWAT, DVA, and a full Hero team stormed the apartment building when the signal was given. Seth wouldn’t be surprised if God himself was piggybacking on this assault with the amount of firepower that was being shoved into a single apartment.

They had access to the body cams the Hero team was wearing for the op, so they saw it all unfold in high definition.

“Breach in three…two…one.”

Some Hero with a type of explosive power put his hand on the exterior of the building. One second the wall was there the next it was like someone had glued TNT to the exterior. Plaster, drywall, and smoking wood obscured the footage while the assault team burst into the apartment.

There were three people inside, and Seth heard the Dean’s breath catch at the sight.

Some guy was wearing old OD fatigues from the Vietnam era and an obscuring mask. It would have looked ridiculous if he wasn’t a walking arsenal of guns, knives, and even a freaking sword were visible through the rapidly clearing debris. The second guy was short and looked like some type of tech villain. He couldn’t have looked more like a computer as fear flashed across his face.

But Seth lost focus on everything else when he saw her. She was standing in the middle of the group. The other two villains had a hand on either of her shoulders. Despite his best efforts, Seth could still remember those chocolate brown eyes staring into his after one too many drinks. Those perfect lips kissing him. Those hands doing all sorts of stuff that he didn’t want to tell the lovely DVA agents about.

She looked…harsh though. He features were more defined, she’d lost a bit of weight, but none of it where it counted. Her eyes were blazing though, and as the Heroes moved into the room a smartass grin formed on her lips, one that he’d seen on her more times than he could count.

She raised a hand, extended her middle finger to the swarming Heroes, and then was swarmed by darkness. The camera feeds went black and calls for SITREPs and for members of the team to sound off flooded the radios. Slowly the darkness leaked away, and when it was gone there was nothing there.

“Target’s vanished.”

“Son of a bitch.” The DVA agent who brought Seth in growled, while the Dean just shook his head sadly.

Seth didn’t know what to think. Emotions rushed though him that he had trouble understanding. He was angry. Angry that Liz had escaped after everything she’d done, but he was also impressed. She’d taken on a full assault by a Hero team and everything the local law enforcement could throw at her, and she’d literally vanished right in front of them. Underneath all of that was a speck of happiness that conflicted with his anger. No matter what she’d done, she’d been the first girl Seth really considered committing to. That was a big deal for him and those feelings didn’t just go away.

Those feelings were rearing their ugly head at the worst possible time. Seth’s heart ached a bit after seeing her. She looked different. Prison had done a number on her, and she might even be a little unhinged from the experience, but she was still Liz and he couldn’t help but have an ember of love for her.

All of that played across his face and he wasn’t able to hide it. He looked over and saw the female DVA agent watching him closely. He tried to school his features, but it was too late. Whatever she was going to take away from that brief show of emotion she’d already done it.

Really, Seth didn’t have anything to hide. He hadn’t helped Liz at all in her escape or at all since she’d been captured. The DVA would find no connection between him and his ex, but that hardly mattered. The look in that DVA agent’s eyes said that they had a suspect, and that suspect was him.

“Are we done here?” Dean Ditmar seemed more tired than usual.

“Are we, Seth?”

“Lawyer.” He stated simply for the hundredth time. After what he’d just witnessed he wasn’t saying jack shit to anyone about anything without legal counsel present.

The powers that be were going to be searching for another scapegoat and that sure as hell wasn’t going to be him.

“We’re done. For now.” The DVA agent drove that point home with her eyes. “This goes without saying but don’t go anywhere, Mr. Abney. We might have some follow up questions at some point.”

“You know where to find me.” Seth stood up, shouldered past the two agents guarding him, and headed for the door.

He needed to get out of the HCP. He needed fresh air, and above all he needed a drink. It was close enough to the end of classes that he didn’t think the professors would care about him skipping out early. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. They would care. He just didn’t, so he changed out of his uniform and headed out.

The lift came quick since he was the only one using them right now, and it took him up to the student’s center. It was packed, but he ignored the throng of people moving around him. He needed a quiet place to think. There really wasn’t a quiet place on a big campus like West’s, but he found a free bench out on one of the school’s many quads. He gave a quick looked around for campus police before removing a flask from his backpack and took a swig. The liquid burned pleasantly on the way down. It was a little uneasy settling in his empty stomach, but he didn’t care. He took a quick second and third swig before hiding the flask back in his bag.

Then he shut his eyes, turned his face up towards the setting sun, and tried to relax. The booze helped a little, but it wasn’t enough to dull his thoughts. He remembered when he’d first met Liz. He’d just beaten up a drug dealer at a party – he hated drug dealers with a special passion – and one pulled a gun on him. Liz came out of nowhere and knocked the guy the fuck out.

It was instant attraction. Not just because of the tight yoga pants she was wearing, but because of how confidently she took out the piece of shit. Confident people being attractive worked for guys just as much as for girls, and Liz had confidence coming out her ass.

<Such a nice ass too.>

The memories made him smile, but there was a dark tinge to them now. He saw them all through the scope of someone trying to worm her way into his life. It made him feel upset and violated. That was where the booze helped a bit to numb those feelings. He only wanted to remember the good times.

Seth didn’t know how long he’d sat there, but when the warmth of the sun left his face he got to his feet and went to grab something to eat. The dining hall wasn’t as packed as it was during lunch, so he grabbed his taco and found an empty table in the back of the room. The shell was soggy and the meat probably had been a different type of meat at some point, but it helped settle the booze in his stomach and that was all that he cared about.

He ignored everyone, didn’t make eye contact, and stewed in his own thoughts and memories, which was why it was such a surprise when someone walked up and sat down at his table.

“Hey,” the short freshman girl he’d met at the party had triple the number of tacos he did along with all the fixings.

“Um…hey, Izzy right.” Seth felt annoyance tinged with curiosity shoot through him.

He was definitely giving off a “do not disturb” vibe, so either she wasn’t that smart or she didn’t give a shit.

“So I learned all about you from your friend.” She started devouring her taco with the exuberance only possible after an HCP physical training session.

Seth mood immediately soured. “Becca needs to keep her nose out of other people’s business,” he snapped.

Izzy recoiled slightly, but shook it off. “She’s just worried about you.”

“She should still mind her own business.” That left them in an uncomfortable silence as they both munched on their tacos.

“Um…I want to ask you something, but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.” Izzy began hesitantly.

“Which rumor is it this time that’s making it through the freshman class?” he scoffed.

“They said you got pulled out of class and arrested by the DVA today. That true?”

Seth could tell she was trying to be cool about this, but there was a burning desire to know that was clearly visible in her body language.

“Not arrested. They just wanted to ask me some questions.”

“About Wraith.”

The emotions threated to overwhelm him when Izzy spoke her villain name. He gritted his teeth and gripped his fork tightly as he tried to bury and lock it back inside himself.

“Holy crap.” Izzy looked around wide-eyed.

Seth didn’t even realize it, but the ground was shaking slightly. <Shit.> He took a few deep breaths and the tremors faded from the ground and himself. <I can’t lose control like that.>

He knew he couldn’t, but he really wanted to at the same time. A vision of him bringing down the whole building flashed through his mind, which he immediately suppressed.

“Weird.” Izzy looked around without making the connection between Seth and the mini seismic activity.

“So…”

“Yes her.” Seth cut her off, and his tone indicated that was the end of the line of discussion.

Izzy might have missed the use of his power, but she didn’t miss the look on his face.

“Cool, no problem.”

She tried to act relaxed, but he could see the nervousness building inside her. He could tell she was going to ask him something else.

“One more question and I swear I’m done.” She crossed her heart like she was seven and making a promise to her BFF.

Seth took a deep breath in through his nose, slowly let it out through his mouth, and steeled himself. “What?”

“What’s it like to have money?”

Seth couldn’t stop himself. He busted out laughing. If anything, that seemed to piss Izzy off.

“I’m sorry.” Seth could feel the tension leaving his body as he continued to chuckle. “That’s just a really random question, and if you want an honest answer it’s kind of a pain in the ass.”

“Wow. Money equals a pain in the ass to you. Spoken like a rich guy I guess.”

“Hey,” Seth glared back, his anger rising again. “You asked a question and I gave you an honest answer. When you have money that’s all anyone seems to be concerned about in my experience. That or getting more money. People stop thinking of people as people. My family isn’t even a family. My dad’s more worried about the family name than the people that actually have the name. My mom self-medicates herself into a coma, and my brother and sister are world class dicks. Money hasn’t done anything for my family except ruin it. It’s more like we’re a group of people that share chromosomes than people that care about each other.”

It all came pouring out in a rant that took Izzy and him by surprise. By the end of it Izzy was looking at him slightly differently.

“But at least you have a family.” She said after a few moments of silence. “I’ve never known my parents. I never got new clothes, a car for my sixteenth birthday, or even a going away party for graduation. I got legal documents saying I was now an adult and to take care of myself.”

It was Seth’s turn to be thoughtful for a moment.

“I’d still trade you.” He ultimately concluded.

“You wouldn’t say that if you were in my shoes.”

“And if you’d been in my shoes you wouldn’t want to be in them anymore.”

“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.”

“I guess we are.” A smile played on both of their lips.

“But if you want to live the good life so bad then I’ll give you your dream.” Seth blindsided her.

“What?” Milk practically squirted out of her nose as she caught something Seth tossed underhand across the table.

Seth laughed as she looked down and her eyes bulged.

“These are keys to a Porsche 911 Turbo S Cabriolet.” She cradled the keys like they were made of gold.

“So.” Seth shrugged.

“This is a two hundred thousand dollar car.” Her eyes continued to bug out.

“So.” Seth repeated with a smug look.

“So…SO!” She suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands. “So…I can’t drive this.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Seth sighed, but he enjoyed seeing the look on her face. “Do you have a license?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it suspended in any way that would legally restrict you from driving a motor vehicle.”

“No, but…”

“Then let’s go.” Seth interrupted her as he got to his feet.

She didn’t move as he walked away.

“If you don’t come with me I’m going straight to campus police to say that you stole my car.” That got her moving.

“But…but…” She was at a continued loss for words as he led the way out of the dining hall and down the street to where the car was parked.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he hopped in the passenger seat and reclined it back to a lounging position.

“You said you never got new clothes, so we’ll hit the mall.”

“You’re letting me drive your super expensive car and you’re going to buy me clothes.”

“It’s only money.” He replied simply as he shut his eyes and waited for the car to start.

It didn’t, so he cracked his eyes to look up at her.

“You’re drunk aren’t you.”

“A little bit,” he smiled.

She nodded her head like everything was falling into place. “You want me to be your chauffer.”

“You drive me around tonight and in return I’ll let you drive a car you seem to be salivating all over, and I’ll buy you clothes. Seems like a pretty good arrangement to me.”

“You’re an ass.” She said, but started up the car anyway.

“Glad you finally see the light, Iz.”

“I’d prefer you call me Isla or Izzy.” The engine rumbled as she put it into drive and pulled into the street. It jerked forward as the powerful engine took her by surprise.

“And I’d prefer if you kept it down, Iz, I’m trying to sleep off a bit of my tipsiness before we get there.”

He couldn’t see her with his eyes closed, but he could feel her eyeroll as she finally reached an open road and opened it up.

Her scream of delight was a welcome change to the toxic feelings and constant suspicion that he’d been enduring from everyone else today.

 

***

 

Kyoshi stifled a yawn as she took the lift down into the HCP. It was finally Friday, and she couldn’t wait to be finished. This first week had been wearing her down from the beginning, and it wasn’t just the academic and physical rigors. Seth’s meltdown and drama was beginning to get around. People were starting to notice what was wrong with her friend.

<Then the DVA hauled him in for questioning.> She shook her head as the soft chime announced she’d arrived. <All anyone is doing is pushing him away. He needs us, he needs his friends, we need to bring him back.>

She tried to put that aside as she walked down the sci-fi-esque corridors and toward the locker room. Today was a big day, without having to deal with Seth.

Kyoshi was beginning to get a feeling for the classes she was taking, and all the extra work she’d have to put in this semester. The above ground classes weren’t really a concern. She’d always been good at school, and she was confident she could maintain a 3.5 or higher GPA this semester. It was the HCP classes that were going to consume her energy.

Focus quite literally did that. It was mentally brutal work. The exercises that Professor Livingston started putting the class through on day one were harder than anything she’d personally given Kyoshi to work on last year. Every day she left that class with her brain feeling like it had spent five minutes in a microwave.

Close Combat was basically an extension of physical training, and a continuation of what they’d started last year. Although, the previous year had been all about learning to fight. For someone like Kyoshi who had multiple martial arts backgrounds it wasn’t too difficult, but that wasn’t the focus this year. This year’s goal seemed to be to put the class in the most unpredictable or shittiest scenarios possible. She understood that Coach McMillian wanted to make them ready for anything, but showing up to a two-on-one fight where your power doesn’t work on one of the people isn’t exactly fair.

<Fair has nothing to do with it.> She remembered the Coach’s words perfectly. <It’s about you saving civilian lives and continuing to breathe. The rest doesn’t matter.>

Focus left her mentally exhausted and Close Combat left her physically bruised, so the healing class with Dr. Sanderson was actually one of the best parts of her day. He’d jumped right into it without waiting any time. They were in the middle of getting CPR certified with plans to move onto operating AEDs next. She really took that class to heart – literally.

She smiled to herself and she pulled on her gray uniform and entered the gym. Before she could get on to those specialty classes she had to go through good old-fashioned physical training, and that always started with pullups.

She grabbed the bar and knocked out ten easily. They were up to doing twenty every time they entered or exited the gym, but she hadn’t done as much upper body training as she should have on summer break. The last ten were a struggle, and she had to throw her legs up on the last two. If Coach McMillian had been watching he would have yelled at her for poor form.

She quickly joined the rest of the class that had already arrived. A quick peek at the clock on the wall and the Coach started.

“I told you all it was coming so I hope you gave it some serious thought.” He scanned the crowd trying to get a read on if people pondered his statements from the beginning of the week. “This year’s focus is teamwork because Heroes often work as a team. Sure, people work solo, but you can bring the full resources of a team to bear on a problem and solve it more quickly and efficiently. Heroes and the DVA both promote team formation for Heroes to combat our lack of numbers and to better coordinate with state and local agencies where we operate. Your training in this starts today.” He looked down at his clipboard.

“We will have four teams of seven. Today team captains will be announced, the teams will be picked, and the workout will be a team one decided by the captain. You can do whatever you want for the remainder of class, but I suggest you use your time wisely. There will be monthly exercises to test each team, and we’re already a quarter of the way through this month. Your first trial will be in a matter of weeks, so if I were you I’d start preparing today.” He cracked a smile that made Kyoshi nervous.

It was never a good thing when the close combat instructor was excited about something.

“The four team captains are: Angela Martin, Jason Cook, Kimberly Goodman, and Erin Fisher.”

<That makes sense. They are the top four in the class.> The rest of the class seemed to agree because not many people commented on the captains. Although, having Erin as a captain was a bit weird. She’d always been a bit off.

The captains stepped forward and spaced themselves out in front of the rest of the class. They all kept a straight face, except Erin who looked like she was in her own little world, but Kyoshi saw their minds calculating the best picks. Just from a basic surface read, Kyoshi could tell that Angela and Kimberly were better at this sort of thing than Jason and Erin.

“Captains, you have five minutes to think then you will choose in the order I selected you. No longer than one minute can pass for you to make your selection. We will continue until everyone is picked and then you’ll get to work. Time starts now.”

Kyoshi listened in while the captains looked over team possibilities. Once the five minutes was up Angela didn’t hesitate to make her first pick.

“Kyoshi Schultz.”

<What?!> Kyoshi didn’t move at first. <That’s got to be a mistake.> Angela hadn’t been thinking about picking her at all.

In fact, it was literally the first time she’d been picked first at anything. She was a giant, clumsy girl who also happened to be an easily identifiable Super. Back in high school that didn’t win any popularity contests.

“Move it, Ms. Schultz.” Coach McMillian pointed for her to fall in with Angela.

<I picked you because you’re the best advanced mind in the class. Not only does that give us a tactical advantage on the battlefield, but it gives me an advantage here and now. What are the other captains thinking?>

“Anika Kemps.” Jason made his selection.

<He kind of had the same idea you did. Anika is still learning her gift but she’ll at least be an early warning system and she had the added power of her speed and strength. She was probably the better first pick.>

Angela ignored the last part and asked for info on Kimberly.

<She wants a power team.> Kyoshi could easily decipher the blaster’s motivations.

“Anna Fletcher.” Kimberly made her pick, and Anna strutted over to her new team.

<Erin… it’s hard to tell what she’s thinking.>

“Mason Jackson,” Erin called out in her far-off, detached voice.

Despite the slim chances of being on the same team, Mason getting picked by another captain still hurt. Their time was going to be a commodity in short supply and it would have been nice to see him during team activities.

“Alexander Webb.” Angela didn’t hesitate.

She’d wanted Mason, but Alex was another good person with superior strength she could leverage.

Jason didn’t hesitate to snatch up Teresa Shaw. Kimberly added to her powerhouse team with Casey, and Erin went with Lorelei Gilford to complete the second round. The selection went pretty quick after that. Teams got picked roughly going down their rankings depending on what the captain was looking for. Angela did make a surprisingly big jump down to grab Fiona the only teleporter in the class. After their dealings with Liz, they knew not to underestimate or undervalue a teleporter.

As time went by it became more and more obvious that one student high in the rankings was being left out. Seth, who looked like he’d been in a decent mood, got surlier and surlier as the selection continued. Kyoshi was willing to bet the man was not used to being picked near the end for anything. It surely didn’t help when he was picked dead last by Erin.

“Those are our teams.” Coach McMillian pointed to a wall when they were done and everyone’s names appeared on it. “The rest of the class is yours, and please take the time to come up with an interesting name. There might be some extra credit in it for most inspiring.”

Kyoshi wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth so she went back to studying the board.

 

Team 1

Angela Martin, Kyoshi Schultz, Alexander Webb, Fiona Richardson, Natalia Romanoff, Oliver Carpenter, Blake Rhodes

 

Team 2

Jason Cook, Anika Kemps, Teresa Shaw, Liam Garrison, Emilia Scarborough, Danny Mason, Janet Ibsen

 

Team 3

Kimberly Goodman, Anna Fletcher, Casey Williams, Rebecca Whitfield, Jacqueline Eton, Carson Long, Richard Gibson

 

Team 4

Erin Fisher, Mason Jackson, Lorelei Gilford, Simon Skylar, Ashley Bates, Rowan Michaelson, Seth Abney

 

<I hope Angela has a plan.> Kyoshi frowned, because just by looking at the board she didn’t think her captain had picked the best team.

If anything, Kimberly’s looked like the team to beat.

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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