Super Powereds: Year 2 (2 page)

“Your compliance is appreciated, and will be met with mercy,” said the voice, its source strolling around Elster’s left and at last entering his field of vision. He was a hefty orc, yet he moved with a strange confidence on this uneven terrain. He surveyed the domain well, eyes alert, taking in every detail. Only after he was certain that each elf was both unarmed and guarded did his vision leave the battlefield to regard his opponent general.

Elster looked up into the eyes of the man who had beaten him soundly and indisputably. He swallowed his pride, thought of his men, and spoke with as much grace as his throat would physically allow.

“Well met and well played, Growlthberz. You are victorious.”

“I am indeed,” said the orc. “But the game is over now, Elmer. You can just call me Hershel.”

Elmer nodded and slowly climbed to his feet. One thing was certain: whatever his name might be, Elmer would certainly be yielding to this man’s leadership come next summer.

* * *

The man was dressed in an all white suit, with his light hair trimmed short and his nails perfectly manicured. His whole outfit, like everything he deigned to wear, had been custom made just for him. He saw no qualms with such excessive funds being channeled toward wardrobe. After all, he had the means now, and he’d lived the life of self-denial for plenty long enough.

He checked his gold watch briefly, gauging how long he should stay before making his exit. His client was clearly satisfied, there was no denying that. She’d stripped nude in front of the mirror as soon as the procedure was done, not even a fleeting thought given to modesty. Mrs. Hadingsworth was still examining herself even after several minutes, scouring every inch of her now-taut flesh for signs that something had been missed. She would find none. The man clothed in white was exceptional at his job. For what people paid, he had better be.

Eventually Mrs. Hadingsworth collected herself, threw on a nightgown that was now far too big for her lithe and youthful form, and joyously shook his hand in thanks. He accepted her gratitude, but only because he had already accepted her sizable sum of money, and made his departure. Mrs. Hadingsworth had a landing strip on her property, so the man had left his private plane there rather than deal with an airport. It was as he ventured across a well-maintained garden that a tall man wearing square spectacles stepped out from behind a rose bush. The man in the white suite was hardly surprised: the bespectacled man had been trying to reach him for some time now and he was not known for his tendency toward giving up.

“Zero,” he greeted.

“It’s just Blaine these days,” said the other man, adjusting his glasses. “Dean Blaine, if I’m at work.”

“Noted.”

“What are you going by now?” Blaine asked.

“The same as before. I do have something of a reputation associated with that name after all.”

“So it’s still Hallow, then,” Blaine said.

“Indeed.” Hallow stepped to the side of Blaine and began walking toward his plane once more. He knew this wouldn’t deter Blaine, but it would force him to get to the point.

“No small talk?” Blaine asked, turning and briskly catching up.

“I have a schedule to keep. Please cut to the quick of it; you’ve been seeking me for weeks now. Don’t waste the opportunity.”

“Very well. I want to offer you a job.”

“I decline,” Hallow said immediately.

“Don’t you even want to hear the details?”

“No, I can safely assume it has something to do with two of your teachers going rogue back in spring. You want me to fill one of their positions, and I have no interest in doing so.”

“You have a lot to offer,” Blaine pointed out. “No healer has ever been capable of doing the things you can.”

“Which is why I make a tremendous amount of money doing it for the wealthy,” Hallow pointed out. “So much, in fact, that there is no possible way Lander could offer me comparable compensation. I doubt you could even afford what I’d normally charge for this meeting.”

“I suppose I should thank you for speaking with me pro bono then.”

“Of course. We’re old friends after all,” Hallow said, choosing to skim past the barb hidden in the comment. “Listen, Blaine, I understand your position, sincerely I do. You’ve had two people you trusted betray you, not to mention word has leaked out about you harboring Powereds in your program, so you need to fill those empty roles with people you know you can count on. Since I fit both that qualification and possess world renown, I would be an excellent candidate to take on the task. Unfortunately, I have no interest in teaching, or in taking a pay cut. I hope you can understand.”

“I can, though I’m disappointed.”

“Chin up, old friend. There are others from our Class of Legends who you can still try.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Blaine acknowledged. The truth was that of the few that remained active, most had turned Blaine down already. Ionics was happily married and raising her third child. Bullrush was a successful coach in the Super Athletics Association, his football team having won four championships in the last decade. “I’ll let you get to your flight, sorry for the delay.”

“Not at all,” Hallow assured him. “It’s always nice to chat with a classmate. One day when my life slows down a bit we should get together and catch up.”

“Of course,” Blaine agreed, knowing full well Hallow wouldn’t be slowing down anytime soon. Not with his particular talent so vastly in demand.

Blaine pressed his fingers to his temples as his comrade continued walking through the garden, never sparing a glance back at the man he called friend. Blaine had known it was a long shot going in, but that gave him little comfort. He’d exhausted nearly all other available options, leaving him with only one that he considered an even longer shot. Still, he had to try.

* * *

Nicholas tapped the felt gently, a subtle gesture that conveyed all he needed it to. While he was normally one who spent his time wiling and beguiling at the poker table, today Nicholas was taking it easy and just playing some blackjack. He wouldn’t keep his winnings, of course: money won from the house just came out of the family pot, which was another reason he preferred trouncing tourists. Still, there was something relaxing about letting go of the need for guile and subterfuge while taking in its place the pleasure of tracking a myriad of numbers.

He leaned back in his chair as a seven of hearts was laid onto his stack, placing his total at twenty. The dealer was showing eight, so Nicholas made the easy call and decided to stay. He wore grey slacks and a black button-down, and a gold tie hung loosely around his neck. Nicholas worked hard to convey an image of disheveled elegance.

Every now and then Nicholas felt the urge to adjust the sunglasses he was no longer wearing. He’d get a new pair soon; even if his dorm mates knew the reason he wore them, they still provided excellent camouflage from the rest of the students. Aside from which, they were a rather ingrained portion of the Nick character, and Nicholas was loathe to put him through major modification mid-performance. For Nicholas had indeed elected to continue his career at Lander for another year, even with his big secret leaked to the world. There was so much to learn, and so little of it from the classrooms. Besides, his dorm mates had proven loyal beyond the degree of rationality in the events of last spring. That meant he could count on them to help him get by, despite his comparative lack of ability.

Those four were trusting, dedicated, and strong. They would make excellent pawns, possibly ones so good he would be able to play his charade all the way to the end. He just had to go slow, and take things one move at a time.

The dealer flipped his face-down card to reveal a jack, leaving him unable to hit on the eighteen he now held. Nick and two other players at the table raked in their winnings. Nick methodically set out a two hundred dollar bet for the next hand. By his count, the deck was about to get very hot. One of the waitresses stopped by, dropping off a new gin on the rocks for him. Nicholas gave her an acknowledging glance then turned back to the game. She was new here; he’d remember to get to know her better later in the evening. After all of his pressing business was attended to, of course.

One move at a time indeed.

* * *

This man wore all white too, but his was not a designer suit custom tailored to his frame. It was a jumpsuit, one with a number stitched on the front and a series of tracking devices woven throughout it. The regular prisoners still wore orange to be easily spotted, but those like him were decked out in white. Some said it was in recognition of what they once were, or what they could have been. The official reason was that it was a safety measure to allow the guard to immediately distinguish between his kind and the regular inmates. Not that this man was given much time to socialize with the others.

The man had dark hair, cut short, and a small soul patch above his chin. He’d briefly considered growing the full goatee to match his incarcerated persona, however he’d decided that would be fringing on the terrain of melodrama.

His cell was composed of rocket-proof plastic walls that afforded no privacy. After some lobbying he’d been successful in gaining a curtain around his toilet area; however, even when sitting it only came up to his shoulders as far as coverage. The most impressive feats of engineered captivity in the cell couldn’t even be seen. The air ducts that ran overhead filtered through a series of pressurized chambers before they brought fresh oxygen to his cell, and another set of them drained off the old air. This allowed for the whole system to be shut down at a moment’s notice should its inhabitant opt to go gallivanting. A similar system was used for the toilet and for the one entrance to the cell.

On this particular day, a rare event occurred. The entrance swung open to reveal a tall man wearing spectacles, one the prisoner knew all-too well.

“Zero,” said the inmate. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Just Blaine these days. I left that name behind several years ago.”

“I know what you mean. These days I just go by 48935.”

Blaine clucked his tongue. “I’m afraid that’s no good. We’re far too good of friends for such a dismissive title. How about Sean?”

“No one has used that one for a long time. Okay, Zero, call me Sean.”

“I told you it was Blaine.”

“I told you it was 48935. Besides, for such a ‘good friend’ this is the first time you’ve visited me in here. You know, since you arrested me.”

Blaine walked slowly over to the bed and sat down on the atrociously thin mattress. “Can you blame me? Or any of us? You went from an honored Hero to a common thief.”

“To be fair, there is nothing common about me or what I stole.”

“A fair point. Nuclear secrets, famous works of art, closely guarded industrial patents. You had quite a run,” Blaine admitted.

“Until Zero caught up to me,” Sean pointed out.

“Until I caught up to you. You were a thief, Sean, and I was still a Hero. You had to know the way things were going to end.”

“A man can always hope. That is a right that not even prison can take away.”

“If you sincerely believe that then you should be thankful for where you ended up. I’ve seen prisons that most certainly do have the ability to take away a man’s hope,” Blaine told him.

Sean spread his hands. “So consider me thankful. Let’s celebrate the occasion by getting to the point.”

Blaine hesitated. This next part was delicate, not only in what he needed to say, but in how much he could safely let out while their conversation was being monitored.

“I know you think I wasn’t listening, that night when I dragged you in. I was, and I’ve had a lot of time to dig into it since then. I’m not saying I believe your reason for all the stealing, but let’s just say I’m not as skeptical as I once was,” Blaine said.

“Wonderful; that and a cigarette will get me a cup of coffee in here,” Sean spat back.

Blaine reached into his suit jacket and produced a few folded pieces of paper. He unfurled them and kept them in his hands for the moment.

“I know you haven’t been privy to the grapevine of our world in here, so I’m assuming you haven’t heard the news,” Blaine said. “Five of my students from last year were subjects of an experimental procedure. One that gave them enough control to be reclassified from Powereds to Supers.”

Sean’s whole body stiffened, but his voice remained calm.

“You don’t say.”

“I do say. Their secret came out at the end of the year, yet they have elected to return despite the less than welcoming sentiment echoed by their fellow students.”

“Sucks to be them.”

“Yes. It sucks even more because two of my employees, teachers no less, decided to kidnap a pair of them at last year’s end. Though the students were safely recovered, that leaves us in the position of having two spots to fill. One has been conditionally handled, however I’m still in the market for the services of an experienced Super who I can trust.”

Sean laughed at this, visibly and freely. “A job? You’re here to offer me a job? And how would that work exactly? Are you going to keep me by your side twenty-four hours a day so I can’t slip away? Or better yet, maybe you’ll build me my own cage out there so the students can learn from me while I’m pinned up like a side show.”

Blaine shook his head. “No cages, no monitoring. You’d have to live on campus, of course, but you’d be free to roam the town as you like for your off time. You have five years left of your sentence. You can spend them here, or in my employ.”

“You’ll never be able to sell that to the higher ups,” Sean protested.

“I already have. Despite what you may think, since our time apart I’ve garnered quite a few friends of station who trust my judgment. If I say you won’t run, they’ll believe me.”

“Let’s come back to that point then. Trust. You need someone you can trust. But you and I aren’t exactly close friends anymore. Even assuming I’m not still bitter enough to try and attack you, how do you know I won’t run at the first chance I get?”

Blaine reached over and grasped the inmate’s forearm. Their eyes met, Blaine’s burning with intensity like phosphorous.