Fire Hazard: Cape High Book Eight (Cape High Series 8) (3 page)

"How are you responsible?" I ask her, fighting the urge to laugh.

"I want to be second in command!" she says, rather than answering that.

"Yeah, yeah, of course you do," I say.  "So the right earring is a communicator--what's the left?" I ask, touching it.  Music starts playing, almost making me jump out of my seat.

"It's a microcomputer," Nico says.  "Carla, we're in class, you're not supposed to be calling up Vinny just to take over his position."

"We want to hear this too, though," I hear Lance say.

"Okay, fine.  Listen up, Vinny.  Any computer you get close to should be accessible through the earring on your left ear.  You need to tap it twice and you'll get past the security, unless it's done by a technopath--that includes smartphones if you need to.  You can also use it to listen to any music or video on that phone I gave you.  Keep it on low, though, otherwise the norms will hear it.  And try not to break into anything Hall related... or government related, now that I think about it."

"You gave the boy an all-access pass to any computer on the planet?" Century asks sharply.

"Free video game cheats, AWESOME!" I say, grinning from ear to ear.

"Can I get one of those?" I hear Sunny ask over the link.

"Maybe on your first spy mission," Nico says.  "And from now on you can all call me N!"  I hear the entire school groan at this one.

"I don't get it," I say.

"It's like Q?  From James Bond?" Nico says.  "You kids are uneducated," he mutters.

"Says our school principal," I point out.

"Just for that I'm sending every Bond movie ever made to your phone," Nico says.  "You're not getting anything else until you watch at least half of them."

"I don't want to watch Bond," I say, “this is child abuse!"  I hear the others laughing their heads off.

"Don't laugh, you're all watching them, too," Nico says.  The laughter stops abruptly.  "Listen, Vinny, every single person in the school is listed on your phone.  Or if you want, you can tap your earring and get on the school channel, most of them have an earbud already.  We'll send someone running if you need backup, got it?"

"I'll go!" Carla volunteers.

"Please don't come," I say.

"We got your back, kid," Nico says.  "You're going to do us proud, we already know."

I look at Century, and then I stand and head for the bathroom, sure he could probably still hear me if he wants to, but wanting the privacy.  "I think you got the wrong guy, Nico, I seriously do--"

"What, think we should have sent Jack?" Nico asks.  "He'd terrorize the gang and take over, and then we'd never get the kid back--"

"He would not!" I hear Aubrey say.

"Sure I would," Jack says, “take it over, that is.  But I'd come back, I've got a girlfriend."

"I didn't mean Jack--what about Trent, or Max, or--or even Sunny?" I say.  "I'm not suited for solo missions."

"Sure you are," I hear Morgan say, "you can handle anything."

"He can," I hear most of the zoo kids agree.  "Man, remember the time he caught the kitchen on fire?  He didn't even break a sweat!"

"Which time?" Morgan asks, laughing.  "Relax, Vinny, you can do this with your eyes closed.  You'll be back home with us before you know it, I promise."

Why do they have so much faith in me?  I look in the bathroom mirror, seeing a punk with glowing earrings looking back at me.  I’m surprised Jack didn’t convince me to pierce more than just my ears, honestly.  He’s way too happy with a piercing needle for my tastes.  “There’s one thing Century didn’t mention,” I say almost silently.  “I’m here to prove that Cape High is actually teaching the students enough to send the South Branch kids to it.”

“Interesting,” Nico says.  “Well it doesn’t matter to me. I only took this job because it’s part of my probation.  If there are less kids involved there’s less work for me.”

I choke, shocked, and then burst into laughter at that reply.  “Aw, man, that’s good to know,” I admit.  “I was feeling a bit of pressure there.”

“But we want Voltdrain’s girl,” Nico says, cutting off my laughter.  “So forget about Century--the one I want you to impress is Voltdrain.  Get his little girl out of there, kid.”

“Why just her?” I ask.

“Because she’s a power absorber, it looks like.  That’s a skill that should be properly trained.  I’m not saying her father wouldn’t be able to--but if I understand it right, he’s not that good at controlling her to begin with.”

“A power absorber?  Like Morgan?” I ask.

“No, not exactly.  Voltdrain is capable of absorbing energy, not abilities.  So you give him a battery, he can drain it, you give him a nuclear bomb, he can drain that, too.  He’s even taken care of nuclear factories that were running a bit too hot--he has to go barefoot to do it, of course, but he CAN.  And has.  Do you see where I’m going here?”

“Why does he have to go barefoot?” Carla asks.

“Because the energy is too great for his body.  He can store a decent amount, but for the big things he conducts it straight into the earth.  He’s a specialist.  He’s also a very good man to have owing you a favor.”

I’m picturing those Hispanic wrestlers right now, the ones that do flips through the air and all sorts of crazy awesome tricks while wearing masks--Luchadores.  They’re AWESOME.  But I probably shouldn’t make that connection for a superhero.  Well… you know, other than the fighting and the masks.  What?  Seriously, ALL of us could be compared to wrestlers, okay?

Life is like a massive wrestling match, or something.  Well, you know, if you go to Cape High, that is.  Face it, Max brings a golden mic to every fight he’s in, there’s definitely a comparison.

“He’s not a luchador,” Nico interrupts.

“I didn’t--”

“Of course you didn’t think of a stereotype, you’re a good kid,” he drawls.  “You just went ‘lucha’ for no apparent reason.”

“But Lucha Libre is awesome,” I say a bit pathetically.

“True, but he’s still not one of them.  He’s a South Branch super hero, and don’t forget it.”

“Think they’d have a match while I’m down here?  Not Voltdrain, but--”

“Talk to Flame.  He’s your host down there.”  I hear a knock on the door and glance over as someone calls through it.

“Mr. Accardi?  It’s time to resume your seat, we’ll be landing shortly,” a lady says.

“Yeah, okay,” I say, coming out of the restroom and heading for my seat.  Century is closing his folder and buckling his seatbelt, which strikes me as a bit silly, but I do the same.

“Feeling better?” Century asks.

“Yeah,” I admit, “I am.”  I turn to watch out the window as we land, Texas, home of the South Branch.

Not home for me.

*Texas*

"I want to thank you for this, Flint," Alonso says, standing next to Flameblaster at the private airport.  "I know you don't think it'll work, but you're going along with it, anyway."

"Knowing that, you should really quit thanking me," Flint says bluntly, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and staring moodily at the plane coming in.  "I still say we just drag her out, take down the gang and call it a day."

"She thinks she's finally in a place where she fits," Alonso says in that typical gentle tone of his.  The shorter male is one of the nicest guys he's ever met, Flint thinks as he looks at the Hispanic hero, quiet, laid back, Alonso.  He's the type of guy that everyone would be comfortable either watching football with or talking about family problems with.  It's shocking when you find out that he's Voltdrain, one of the most powerful heroes on the planet.  "I can't take that from her without giving her something to replace it, Flint."

"You keep saying that, but--it's run by a super villain, Al," Flint says.  "You're trusting a kid that's being trained by a super villain--one that you've never met!  This is ridiculous--" he stops as the plane lands, biting his tongue. 

"I asked," Al says quietly as they watch the steps being pushed up to the plane.  His eyes are glued to the two coming down the steps, Century, their leader, and a thin, tan male carrying a ratty bag, wearing punk clothes.  The wind blows his hair up, revealing the shaved sides clearly.

"THAT'S who they sent?" Flint asks, his jaw falling open.  "He looks like a worse punk than the guys Jimmi's running around with!"  He catches the depressed look on Al's face too late.

"I... we will try," Al says, squaring his shoulders from where they slumped.  Flint reaches out, clapping the shorter hero on the back.

"We'll try," he agrees.  He's going to have to live with this punk?  He feels his right eye starting to twitch.  The kid is probably one of those wanna-be bad boys.

The sliding doors open and Century walks through them, followed by the kid in question.  Those glowing red earrings show up even without the light reflecting off of them, Flint thinks with a hint of surprise.  How does that work, LED lights?

"Flint, Alonso, good of you to come meet us," Century says, heading straight for them.  He drops a massive hand on the kid's back, shoving him forward.  "Vinny here's been looking forward to meeting you."

The boy looks bored, Flint thinks as he and Vinny shake hands, but that changes slightly when Alonso moves forward.  "Nico says you're the one he wants me to impress as a Cape High kid," Vinny says, much to all three of their shock.

"You didn't have to announce it, Vinny," Flint hears a voice say from the kid's earring.

"It sort of slipped out," Vinny says with a shrug.

"So what about the rest of us?" Flint asks, wondering exactly who this kid really is.  "Not going to try and impress us?"

"Nope," Vinny says, looking him straight in the eye.  "Do you want me to?"

He doesn't like this kid, Flint decides.  He's a smart aleck.

***

When I was a kid, well, when I was fourteen I took up dirt biking.  My dad taught me on this ancient piece of crap bike that didn't work more often than it did.  The motorcycle that Nico made me is as far from that dirt bike as the moon is from the sun.  I stare at in, taking in the twisting swirls of metal that represents flames, the shiny chrome rims, the--

"Where in the hell does a seventeen year old get a bike like that?" Flint demands from behind me.

"Nico and Zoe built it--with Jack's help," I say, heading straight for it.  "I'll follow you to your place, alright?"  I can't wait to get on the streets--

"It needs a license," Century says.  "I'll get one for you, but until then you're off the streets, boy."

But--shiny--I'm seriously close to crying right now, not that it shows on my face.  At least I hope it doesn't.  "This way," Flint says, walking away.

"My bike--"

"I'll get it taken care of," Century says, patting me on the shoulder and pulling out a phone.  Reluctantly I follow after Flint, feeling that this spy mission just took a turn for the worst.

"Can I ask," Alonso says, making me glance over, "why did you take this job?"

I hesitate, shoving my hands in my pockets.  "I'm..." what?  Not sure, myself?  The wind flips my hair and I shove it out of my eyes, scowling slightly as I think.  "A cape kid shouldn't be left alone," I finally say, picturing the faces of the zoo kids.  "It's too dangerous."

"You'll be alone," he points out, “to a point."

"Yeah, but I'm not that same kid from the past," I say coldly, thinking of how I would deal with Collector or his lackeys if they came after me now.  Alonso blinks and I realize he's staring at my hair.  I reach up and pinch out the flame that started on a few strands.  Not cool, man, not cool, I need to calm down.  All these changes in such a short amount of time are making me lose it. 

I need to cook something.  Cooking helps a lot.  I spent that year in the zoo watching cooking shows on television, committing it all to memory, visualizing it in my head.  It was the only channel that came through clearly.  At first it had annoyed me, and I kept flipping through the channels, hoping another would work.  Then I started to enjoy them.  Now I consider myself a very decent cook.  Good enough to keep the zoo kids from complaining and some of them are extremely picky eaters.

"It's over here," Flint calls from the parking lot.  He's standing next to a red mustang.  I let out a sigh, slinging my bag over my shoulder a little better and heading for the car.  "You're not starting tonight," he tells me.  "Tomorrow you'll be going to her school--that's where she met the gang she's hanging out with.  You'll have to do what you can to get close to her.  I've got a file of pictures of the gang members we know, you'll see them when we get to my place," he says.  "If you screw this up, I'll light you like a match, boy."

"Mmhmm," I say, sliding into the passenger seat and staring at the people taking my bike away.

"I'm not kidding, boy," Flint says sharply.  "I'm a pyrokinetic--"             

I look at him, holding up one hand and doing a trick I've almost mastered during my time at school.  The entire hand lights on fire.  His eyes widen and he curses.  "So THAT'S why they stuck you with me!" he says.

"Yep.  You're supposed to be my mentor," I tell him.  "They aren't going to scratch her, are they?  Because I'm positive they won't let me go all the way back to KC to get Jack to fix it.  I owe him my debut for that thing."

"Your debut?" he asks.  "Who's Jack?"

"Cold Steel," I say. 

"The super villain?  The guy that rides sewer lids and fights with Kid Liberty?" he asks.

"He's a Liberty, too," I say, wondering what he's so surprised about.  "He's got a girlfriend and is pals with half the school--well, much as a bully can be pals," I add idly, watching out the window as he starts to drive.  I sort of get the feeling Jack's trying to get on my good side, too.  Not sure why, really.  It's a little flattering, though, I guess.  Having a friend instead of another zoo kid might not be so bad... even if he IS a super villain.

Flint goes silent, pulling up to a decent looking house and parking in the garage.  "We're here."

"You got a kitchen?" I ask as I get out.

"What?"

"Do you have a kitchen?" I repeat slowly, seeing as he misunderstood me.

"You should have told me you were hungry, we could have gotten drive-through."

"I don't eat drive-through."

"Yeah?  Well you're going to starve, then, ‘cause I don't cook," he snaps.  "We might have a frozen dinner in the fridge," he goes on, getting out of the car and heading into the house.

"Where's the nearest grocery store?" I ask as I get out of the car.

"What?"

"I'm going grocery shopping.  I cook," I tell him, closing the car door and looking around.  There's room for my bike.  Sweet!  "Are you allergic to anything?"  He's staring at me like I'm an alien, and I almost feel like one at the moment.  I don't usually get that long of a strange look when I announce my hobby.

"It's... down the street two blocks, turn left on Grundy, and about a mile down," he says finally.  "Do you... I dunno, need some cash?"

I hold out a hand to him and he digs out his wallet, pulling out a couple of fifties.  "Thanks," I say before running off.

Now don't picture me leaving a trail of dust behind me, I'm a decent runner for a cape kid, but Carla runs circles around me.  Literally!  She can sometimes go so fast that you see an afterimage.  Me, I'm about run of the mill in our class, faster than Ward, absolutely faster than Jack, but the Rosenthorn twins leave me in the dust.  I think I can clock about 80, maybe 90mph at my top speeds.  Good thing I don't need to be that fast to run a couple of miles.

I pull to a stop in the parking lot of Walmart, a bit surprised that this is where he sent me and then shrug and head inside, grabbing a cart along the way.  Sure I look like a punk right now, but everyone has to eat, right?  So why is the old guy that's supposed to be greeting me looking at me funny?  I ignore it, heading through the front and into the grocery area.  It feels a little awkward, doing the shopping.  Blackjack and Banshee do all the shopping for the dorm, since they're paranoid about letting us out on our own.  Then again, usually we have some random super villain lurking in the shadows and ready to attack.  Now all I've got is a group of punk kids somewhere--

I stop, seeing a familiar face.

Nobody told me Jimena was going to be here.

***

Jimmi is bored, and a bit irritated.  "This sure is some big Sunday night date," she drawls, not really wanting Tank to grab her in public like he is.  Sure it's just a hand on her hip, but she's irritated with her boyfriend at the moment.  "Weren't we going to the movies?" she asks.

"We don't have cash for the movies," Tank says, giving someone a dark look.  None of the others are here, though, she thinks, following his eyes.  All she sees is a dark haired teenager pushing a cart.  He’s probably doing his mom's shopping or something.  It's seriously not that big of a deal, she thinks in irritation.

"What's wrong with him?" she asks.

"What?"

"You were glaring at him, so what's wrong with him?" she asks.  "He's probably doing his mom's shopping."

"He was staring at you."

"Tank, glowing orange eyes," she says dryly.  "Everybody stares."  At one time she had felt self conscious about that fact, hiding them behind sunglasses or even fake prescriptions, but now that she's in a gang of supers she has nothing to hide.  She's one of a group.  Except... she shoves that thought down before it surfaces, not letting herself worry about it.

"I don't like him," Tank says coldly, still following the teenager in question.  He's going to start a fight, she thinks irritably.  He might be her boyfriend, but that's no reason to follow people in a grocery store!

"You're being paranoid," she snaps, pulling out of his hold.  "He's shopping for groceries, for crying out loud--look, he's even checking dates on the bags," she says, waving a hand over at the guy.  She stops, though, seeing his glowing earrings and punk haircut and frowning. He looks like that, but he's doing the grocery shopping.

Maybe there is something going on, she thinks, going quiet as they follow the teen.  Tank doesn't even notice how she's now willingly going along with this.  He's got a scent, and just like that ugly, slobbery dog of his, he doesn't plan on letting go.  She watches as the teen tosses various seasonings into the cart before he heads to the meat section, sorting through it with an expertise that doesn't go with his looks.  The cart is half full before she realizes it, and he's tossing in vegetables.  He's cute, she thinks idly, he’s skinny and sharp looking--not even close to as big as Tank, of course, but cute.

The people shopping don't seem to feel the same way, she notices as they move away from the teen unconsciously.  She sees a little girl about six staring at him with a curiously awed expression on her face.  Jimmi goes stock still, her heart beating double time.

"What?" Tank asks.

"He's a super," she whispers.

"What?"

"My dad--if you ever go shopping with him, you see that look on kids' faces.  That guy's a super."

"You're imagining it," Tank says.  "I'm a super, I never get that look."

She looks at him, shrugging his hold off again.  "Maybe they're used to you or something, I don't know," she says, "but I give you odds he's one."  Maybe she's imagining it, though, looking for supers in the shadows, or something.  Idly she grabs a pack of gum and gets in the line behind the guy they've been following.

He checks out, grabbing all of the bags out of the cart, and walks out of the store.  Jimmi puts the gum down and chases after him, forgetting about Tank entirely.  She comes out just in time to see a familiar red mustang pull to a stop in front of the teen.

"I figured it'd be easier if I picked you up," her "uncle" Flint says as the teen opens the back door of the mustang and puts the bags in.