Corpies (Super Powereds Spinoff Book 1) (6 page)

               “He has to go talk to the cops and firemen,” Hexcellent said, answering a question that Owen would have been tactful enough not to ask. “Unlike Heroes, we can’t just gallivant in wherever we want. We have to respect the chain of authority.” She’d changed into her costume, a black number with lots of zippers, buckles, and torn fishnets. Several logos, apparently for makeup companies, dotted her outfit; one for a clothing store named Fiery Discussion was featured no fewer than four times.

               “To be fair, it’s also a good practice because they can tell us where our help is needed most,” Zone added. His costume was comprised of a skintight material across his torso that was see-through everywhere a logo wasn’t present. It seemed he was heavily sponsored by skateboard companies, a few football franchises, and one very enthusiastic energy drink. The latter logo, for a brand called Punch Juice, took up almost the entirety of his back.

               “He’s right,” Owen agreed. “When we can, Heroes talk to uniforms, too. It’s smart to get all the information you can.”

               Zone gave a nod, but pointedly avoided making eye contact with Owen, despite the older man’s agreement. This, it seemed, was going to be the least cordial of his working relationships. He idly wondered if Zone was a fundamentalist, a bigot, or just didn’t care for having a washed-up Hero on his team. It didn’t really matter; as long as the young man could stay polite, he was free to dislike Owen all he wanted.

               “We should catch up,” Bubble Bubble advised them. Her costume was barely a costume at all, more like an experimental outfit from a high-end designer. It was white and green, which went well with the emerald contacts she’d slipped over her naturally brown eyes, and hugged her body in a way that spoke to the figure beneath without going so far as to divulge secrets. Even the logos she wore seemed a bit more tasteful than the others’, colors downplayed so they didn’t clash with her ensemble. Bubble Bubble was sponsored by makeup companies, as well as skin management creams, and a name Owen fleetingly recognized as someone who made designer handbags.

               Corpies didn’t need costumes or masks, of course, since they didn’t undertake activities that earned them enemies. Heroes wore the capes and cowls by tradition as well as necessity: when one’s job required capturing or killing powerful people who often have powerful friends, it’s essential for them not to know where one hung their hat. Corpies were effectively specialized rescue services, like EMT or firefighters. They weren’t making anyone mad, so it was assumed by most, Owen included, that they wore the costumes in a vain attempt to seem more like the Heroes they weren’t. He kept those thoughts to himself as they exited the car and headed toward Galvanize. It was a free country, and they had as much right to wear costumes as they did to wear t-shirts or jeans.

               Their leader met them a few feet from the building, his outfit’s cape flapping slightly in the breeze. Galvanize wore a costume closest to the style of real Heroes: a navy and white ensemble with cuffed gloves, calf-high boots, and even an emblazoned cape. He was sponsored by Punch Juice as well, along with several protein and nutritional supplement companies. The enthusiastic young man wore a serious expression, exactly what one should look like when dealing with a dangerous situation. Owen knew the pictures of him would look great, which he took to be the point.

               “All right, team. I just spoke with the firemen, and this place is very unstable. They believe they’ve gotten everyone out from the bottom floors, but the top ones have proven treacherous to explore. We need to search for any survivors. Hexcellent, get Impers up to the top floor immediately and have him let us know if he finds anyone. Zone, I want you to start on the floor below. Bubble Bubble, that means he needs a way up. Titan, you and I will make our way from the ground. Hexcellent and B.B. will stay out here to evacuate anyone from the higher floors with Big Henry and energy spheres. Be quick, be adaptable, and make sure you don’t get in the any of the firemen’s way. Any questions?”

               “Do they know what started the fire?” Zone asked.

               “Nothing conclusive. It’s an old building, lots of smokers and ancient wiring,” Galvanize replied. “If that’s it, let’s go!”

               Galvanize had no sooner yelled the last part than everyone sprang into action. Hexcellent summoned Impers in a cloud of smoke and had him leap into the air, heading for the top floor. Galvanize took off toward the entrance, pausing only to throw a small black mask on over his mouth and nose. Owen was a few steps behind, lagging a bit out of curiosity. Bubble Bubble had been told to give Zone a way up to the second highest floor. Given what Owen knew of their powers, he was wondering how they were going to pull that off.

               The spectacle did not disappoint. Zone took off running, aiming himself at the side of the building. In a smooth, fluid motion he leapt from the ground, foot catching a brick window sill that he used for a second leap. Another jump off the top of the window’s outcropping brought him a few feet higher, but with it he was out of usable footholds until the next window. When Zone’s sneakers met the flat, brick wall, he pushed backward instead of up, executing a perfect backflip that sent him twirling through the air. Instead of plummeting to the ground, as one would have expected, he momentarily landed on the energy sphere Bubble Bubble had placed directly under him. Launching himself off of it, Zone’s nimble feet made it to the next window sill and the dance began all over again. It was difficult, dangerous, and stupidly risky.

               But it was impressive. Owen had to give them that.

9.

The wave of heat that washed over Owen was oppressive, stifling, and strangely familiar. It had been well past a decade since he plunged into a wild inferno; he found the experience a touch nostalgic.

The bottom floor of the building was almost entirely engulfed in flames to some degree, thick, dark smoke pouring out and limiting visibility. From what he could see, the situation looked grim. Despite the brick exteriors, almost the entire inside was made of wood, wood that was rapidly turning to ash. At the rate the fire was spreading, it was a matter of when, not if, the entire structure was going to come crashing down. By his estimates, they had maybe twenty minutes left, and that was only thanks to the incredible efforts of the firefighters to control the flames.

“Come on,” Galvanize urged, his voice coming through the communicator in Owen’s left ear. Right ear was always reserved for Dispatch, but he needed to be able to talk with his team as well. Their earbuds weren’t quite as good as the Hero-issued ones; however, they weren’t as far behind the curve as he might have guessed they’d be.

Owen followed his leader, taking careful steps. The floor appeared solid enough, but the stairs were a source of concern for him. They weren’t blazing in earnest yet, so thankfully their structural integrity was enough to hold his weight as he ascended to the second floor. Still, Owen continued being watchful of his movements. Him falling through a few burning floors wouldn’t injure him in the slightest, but it would definitely hasten this building’s destruction.

The first and second floors were clear of everyone save for emergency responders, and it was obvious they were going to have to pull out soon. The building was eight stories tall, so that meant they likely had at least two more levels to go before they met up with Zone and Impers, assuming neither team had to stop and facilitate any rescues. He hoped they would find the whole place properly evacuated. Getting someone out of the middle floors might be tricky.

“Does the heat bother you?” The question came so suddenly that Owen nearly twitched in surprise, a move that easily could have crushed the smoldering wood beneath his feet. Luckily, his entire career of experience hadn’t quite deserted him, so he managed to keep control.

“No, not really,” he replied. “I’m a little surprised at how well you’re taking it, though.”

“I did mention I was a bit hardier than normal,” Galvanize replied.  “Besides, the costume does a lot of the work. It’s specially built for extreme temperatures in either direction, along with a fair bit of armoring in the more vulnerable spots, just in case I get hit by debris or something. Pair it with the breather mask, which keeps me from getting carbon monoxide poisoning, and it’s a handy ensemble.”

“Pretty snazzy,” Owen said, dating himself unapologetically with his word choice.

“One of the perks of working for the big guys. When I started out all I got was a t-shirt with a logo on it. This is much safer.”

Galvanize’s word choice struck Owen as intriguing. He’d have expected the glorified model to use words like “nicer,” “cleaner,” “more appealing,” or even “sexier.” “Safer” implied that his first concern was for the job the uniform denoted, not how it made him look. Owen had known Heroes who wouldn’t have said safer. Again he felt his respect for the wavy-haired young man raise a few degrees. Even if he was only playing a part, he played it exceptionally well.

It was on the third floor that their streak of finding everyone safely removed came to a halt. They’d just come off the stairs when Owen heard muffled screaming coming from a few apartments away. His hearing was good—above human grade but not so impressive that it would count as an ability on its own—so he could also make out sounds of someone scuffling about.

“We’ve got people,” he declared, alerting Galvanize while taking two careful, but sizable, steps toward the apartment that the noise was coming from. A single attempt on the doorknob told him it was locked, and he could see keyholes for three deadbolts. He reared back his hefty fist and prepared to turn the door into splinters.

“Titan, hold!” Galvanize’s order was curt and quick, spoken with the sort of veteran authority that reminded Owen of his intern days. “Time is short, but we don’t know where they are behind that door. You punching it could seriously injure someone.”

“Got a better idea?”

“Yes, actually. You’re incredibly strong, so just stick a finger through the door and run it down past where the knob and deadbolts are. That should let us in without sending chunks flying through the home.”

Owen bit back a terse remark and did as he was told. It was easy, like sticking a finger into pudding. The deadbolts put up a valiant effort to stop his index finger, but they may as well have tried to reason with a thunderstorm. In less than half a minute the locks were removed. Galvanize moved forward, pushing the door open and stepping into the apartment’s living room.

The two men had both been in rescue situations before, and this was not the first fire for either, so they’d had certain expectations of what to find behind the door. A huddled, scared group of people awaiting rescue, a panicked cluster that would race forward and possibly knock their rescuers down, or even the worst case scenario: one or more bodies that had already been claimed by smoke inhalation. This was none of those situations. Not even close.

A group of four adults were racing about, filling buckets from the sink and, judging by sound, the tub, emptying them on to a person in the center of the room, then repeating the process. This person in the center was young, roughly seven to nine if Owen had to guess, and sitting in a metal washtub that was glowing from the heat. This heat wasn’t from the fire that was engulfing the building; it came directly from the source.

This young person, a girl, Owen realized as he noticed her hair and facial features, was the one who had released the muffled screams. They didn’t seem to be ones of pain; that would have been impossible to bite back. No, these screams were likely of fear, or guilt, some mixture containing elements of the two. She was clearly terrified, and Owen didn’t blame her one bit.

Because, in addition to sitting, crying, and screaming softly, the young girl was also engulfed in fire. Her whole body rippled with flame, cascading off and flowing to the world around her.

“Shit,” Galvanize said, taking a step back. “We’ve got a Super.”

10.

Owen didn’t fault Galvanize for assuming they were dealing with a Super. He was in a dangerous situation, and a Super willfully causing fires would be his worst case scenario. It meant he had to run like hell and leave these people behind, because he wasn’t cleared to stop a fire-coated arsonist. It was a reasonable leap to make, but it was wrong.

There were things he recognized, as a former Hero, and as a father, that told him something was off. The blackened spots on the metal tub showed it had been used for similar purposes before. The people, probably her family, were scared and frantic but not lost in terror, and that meant this was something they’d come to terms with. The way the girl was sobbing and trying to bite back her fear spoke volumes of how much she hated what was happening to her. Above all was the efficiency of the system they were using to douse her. This had been planned, worked on, and drilled. They knew she might start burning, and they had a method in place to deal with it.

“She’s not a Super,” Owen said, correcting his team leader. “She’s a Powered. She can’t control it.”

“You can’t. . .” Galvanize’s words trailed off as his brain finally snapped to the context clues Owen had already seen. Fear had made him momentarily slow, not stupid. “Crud, I think you might be right.”