Super Powereds: Year 2 (67 page)

“The punch wasn’t planned,” Hershel said, though he pointedly avoided anything that would make it sound like he was sorry. “I came out here for a different reason. Roy needs help.”

His father tilted his head and motioned for Hershel to continue, so he laid everything on the table. The wall he’d hit, the inability to break through, the growing frustration as well as the slowly-increasing gap between Roy and the others’ capabilities.

“So Roy is stuck at about, what, eight hundred pounds per arm you said?”

Hershel nodded, finishing off the remainder of his drink. His father had been right; it had indeed lessened the pain in his hand.

“Well, son, it seems to me-”

“Hershel.”

“What was that?”

“Hershel. That’s my name. Let’s stay away from familial terms, okay? You’re Owen, I’m Hershel, Roy is Roy.”

“Fine,” Owen Daniels said after a brief pause. “I guess I deserve that. Anyway, Hershel, it seems to me you’ve got a pretty big problem. Curling just under a ton would get you through a lot of fights and manual labor jobs, but I’m afraid it won’t cut it if you want to be a Hero.”

“I know that.”

“No, you only suspected it. If you knew it then you would have drawn up a resignation in case I said I couldn’t help. Deep down you’re hoping that with enough skill maybe this wall won’t matter, that there will be another method that will keep Roy as a viable candidate. I’m crushing that delusion right now. Other Supers can get by without massive strength, but they have different talents to compensate. Not ones like us. We hit the living shit out of things, and if we can’t hit hard enough to knock them down then all we are is a liability to our teams. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Owen rose from the table and walked over to the bar with more grace than a man his size had any right to possess. He grabbed a full bottle and dumped a few pours of alcohol into a glass tumbler, then tossed in a trio of ice cubes. He came back and sat down, setting the brown drink carefully in front of him. He took a gentle sip to assess, and from the pleasure on his face, the alcohol seemed to meet his requirements.

“Good,” Owen repeated. “Because I didn’t just say all that to bum you out. I don’t want you thinking that all hope is lost, but I do feel that it’s important you keep your expectations realistic. That said, I can help you past this issue, and teach you how to deal with others of its kind that will eventually surface.”

“How? How can I do it?”

Owen held up a finger. “Not so fast. This isn’t going to be easy, and it isn’t going to be quick. I’m willing to help, but I want you to seriously commit to undertaking this training. I’ll take shit as your father, not as your teacher.”

“I’m sure Roy will-”

“We’ll deal with Roy later. I’m talking to Hershel right now. Roy isn’t some abstract entity, he’s a part of you. So if I’m going to do this, I want to hear you tell me you’ll do whatever it takes.”

Hershel slowly moved his head up and down. “If it will help Roy, I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Good.” Owen slid the glass of dark liquor across the table. Even from a distance, Hershel immediately recognized the familiar odor that wafted up from its depths. “Now drink that.”

“I can’t. That will turn me into Roy.”

“That’s the point,” Owen said, looking unflinchingly at his son.

“That’s not a good idea,” Hershel explained. “If I turn now, Roy will just storm out of here. We need to lay out a plan and outline how to help him before there’s a shot at him playing along.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. You came to me, not vice versa. So I’m not proving myself to you. I know how to fix your problem. You obviously believe that, or you wouldn’t be here. Roy needs to believe that, too. This isn’t a case of fixing the issue and making him believe, it’s a case of him needing to believe in order to fix the issue.”

“I’m not sure he’ll listen,” Hershel said, his uncertainty written across his face.

“I promise, I won’t let Roy leave here. If nothing else, I’ll subdue him until you turn back,” Owen said.

Hershel had zero doubt that he could do it, too. There were many things that had been called into question regarding his father over the year, but the man’s awe-inspiring strength was not one of them. Still, the prospect of shifting right now seemed unwise. In the end, it didn’t feel like he really had a choice. He’d come here to find a solution, and now there was one sitting in front of him. The only thing standing in the way of helping Roy was... Roy. Hershel wanted to help, but this was as far as he could take things by himself. The rest was up to his brother.

In a single, practiced motion, Hershel grabbed the glass and emptied its contents down his throat. He set it back on the table and looked at his father one last time before his consciousness was gone.

“Good luck.”

132.

Nick, Vince, and Will sat on the house’s deck, watching the low moon reflect off the lapping ocean waters. Nick was nursing a beer while the other two sipped soda. Behind them the house gave off a dull roar of constant noise. The pre-gaming had led to its eventual outcome, a localized festival of intoxication. Thankfully, they’d been able to corral most people into eating dinner, even though it had been akin to herding mosquitoes as they darted from one target of interest to another. The three were not the only ones with some sobriety, the others of their ilk merely sought sanctuary in different locations.

“Good thing Alice doesn’t have neighbors,” Will pointed out as the music increased in volume. The farthest house from them was a good six-minute walk, visible but not so close that they could make out details. It seems that Charles Adair enjoyed his space when purchasing an abode.

“Much louder and I wouldn’t be shocked if the police are called anyway,” Vince said.

“Nah. Even if they were home, which they aren’t, it’s spring break. As long as nothing is on fire and no one is dying, a little noise is low on the cops’ priority list,” Nick countered. “Admittedly, we’ve got a good party going.”

“I’m surprised you’re out here with us,” Vince said. "You like this kind of thing."

“I do, but burning yourself out on day one is a rookie mistake. This is a marathon. If you go too hard too fast you’ll find yourself unable to function by day three. The trick is to ease your liver into it. Besides, it’s not even eight yet. I’ve got a lot of night left to burn.”

“The way they’re going, I’d be surprised if they made it past ten,” Will pointed out.

“Guess you didn’t see the pantry full of Red Bull then, did you?”

“No. No, I did not.”

“You know, I think this is really cool,” Vince said suddenly.

“Yes, Vince, an enormous beach house stocked with friends and alcohol definitely qualifies as at least pretty cool.”

“No, not that. I mean, that is great, but I was talking about how many of our classmates came to join us.”

“It was a hard offer to resist,” Will said.

“I know, but... I was just thinking about the beginning of the year. We were so worried about how everyone would react to us. We even got warned that some people would treat us like pariahs and hate us. Yet less than a year later, here we are. All drinking and vacationing together. No one really cares that we used to be Powereds. We’re all just students trying to get through this together. That’s what I think is great.”

Nick and Will exchanged glances. Despite specializing in different areas, they were easily the smartest members of their class, and as such they’d both seen what Vince couldn’t. Some of the camaraderie was based on genuine friendship: people like Will or Thomas or Violet had all gone out of their way to show they cared more about who the Melbrook residents were than what they had been. That was far from the case with everyone. Many of the others regarded them as a science fair experiment that had encroached into their everyday lives. The only thing that preserved civility was a simple lack of concern. Every HCP student had their own fears and challenges to deal with. Right now they were too preoccupied with their own advancement to start looking at each other as genuine competitors. As the slots grew fewer, that would change, and those undertones of hate would be sure to surface. They were living in an illusion of acceptance, and both boys knew it.

“It is pretty impressive,” Will agreed.

“True. Sort of gives you hope for the world,” Nick added.

Sooner or later people would show themselves for what they were. Still, if Vince was lucky enough to believe he was surrounded by friends, there was no need to shatter his delusion. For now, at least, he could be happy.

* * *

“So far, so good,” Mary said.

“No one is dead, we’ve hydrated them enough to avoid alcohol poisoning, and the tents are up without anything being lit on fire,” Chad recounted.

“So far,” Mary pointed out.

“So far,” Chad agreed.

The two were having a brief respite around one of the unattended fires that had earlier been used for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. The drunken teens had lost interest once their stomachs were full, choosing instead to chase the twin pleasures of booze and members of the opposite sex in swimsuits. Chad had nonchalantly hung a trash bag filled with condoms from a mirror on the bus and both chaperones were making a point of being nowhere near it. The point wasn’t to embarrass anyone, it was just to make sure no one had to drop out of HCP due to pregnancy.

“I was expecting worse,” Mary said after a few minutes of listening to the fire crackle.

“We were a little worse,” Chad said. “Roy and Stella had already had a scuffle by now. Not to mention Gilbert finding it exceedingly funny to teleport off with girls’ tops.”

“I am just so very glad I wasn’t here for that.”

Chad showed a rare smile, the firelight almost reflecting off the gleaming veneer of his teeth. “It didn’t last long. After he snagged Britney and Tiffani’s tops, Angela got involved. Gilbert was the model of behavior for the rest of the trip.”

“That girl is something else. I’ve never even seen her fight, but I still feel like she’d mop the floor with me,” Mary said.

“It wouldn’t be that bad, but you would lose. Angela is quite an exceptional warrior.”

“Sounds like you admire her,” Mary said carefully.

“Very much so. I’m lucky she’s taken an interest in me and helped me improve my own skills. I doubt I would have managed so much growth over this year if not for her.”

“She’s quite pretty, too,” Mary pointed out.

“That she is,” Chad agreed. His voice sounded almost... wistful? It was hard to tell with him, he was almost always so detached in his mannerisms. “Anyway, is spite of our antics, she ran a tight ship during our time here. Good thing, too; I’m truly amazed no one managed to hurt themselves.”

“After today I can believe it. Weird that they don’t send a healer along on these trips,” Mary said.

“You think so?”

“Don’t you?”

“To be honest, I thought it was intentional. A way to remind us that in the outside world things can’t automatically be mended, be they bodies or property. It forces them to live with the consequences of their choices, even if only for a week.”

“Or the school’s healers demanded they be allowed this week off,” Mary suggested.

Chad looked back at her with another thin smile. “I suppose that makes sense, too.”

133.

Three tables were overturned, two more were broken beyond repair, and a sizable dent was visible in one of the walls, but Roy had finally been subdued. Owen held his still weakly-struggling son in a headlock from behind, giving him enough air to stay conscious but not so much that he would get ideas of starting back up. While Owen was too resilient to be hurt by anything Roy could do, the bar was not. As it was, Roy’s first assault would cost a fair amount to fix.

“Got that out of your system?” Owen asked calmly.

“Let me go, fucker! I’m leaving!” Roy’s efforts redoubled, his muscular form clawing and swinging wildly at his captor. Not that it mattered; he might as well have been a cloud attacking a statue for all the good it did. Owen let him kick about for a few seconds before tightening his grip and cutting off Roy’s air. He loosened it again once he felt his son’s limbs begin to slacken.

“Sorry, can’t do that,” Owen replied once Roy’s grunting had grown quiet. “I promised Hershel I wouldn’t let you leave.”

“Fuck... Hershel,” Roy wheezed out in ragged gasps. “Fuck...ing... traitor.”

“He thought you might feel that way. To be honest I assumed he was overreacting. I suppose I should have known better.”

This time Roy had no response; he merely hung there sullenly.

“So you think Hershel betrayed you, even though he only did this because you were too proud to admit you were out of options. Even though I saw his car arrive over an hour before he worked up the nerve to come in here, and had to do I can only imagine what to find the gumption to drive out in the first place.”

“Stupid... ass...hole.”

“Yes, Roy, your brother who came out here on his spring break, risked his relationship with you, and confronted a man he hadn’t seen in over a decade all to help his brother is a stupid asshole.” Owen clicked his tongue against his teeth, and Roy’s mind swirled back to childhood, remembering hearing the sound whenever his father was scolding one of them. “You might be the one who got the enhanced muscles, but Hershel is undoubtedly the stronger of you two.”

“Kiss... my... ass.”

“Fine, smart guy, then tell me one thing. If Hershel is so wrong for coming to see me, if you really don’t need my help, then why are you hanging here helpless? I’m barely using any strength, and those punches you threw at me were worthless. I’m not saying you could take me on, even in the best of scenarios, but you’ve been in the HCP for almost two years now. You should be much stronger than this. So why aren’t you?”

Roy hung there quietly, neither words nor actions able to fully capture the amount of hatred he felt for his father at uttering that damned piece of truth.

“No answer to that one? My my, so it seems Hershel might have had some good reason for doing this after all. I can tell you why you’re weak, Roy. I can tell you why, and I can show you how to get back on the right path. Or, you can keep struggling like a child and wait until you turn back into Hershel, at which point I’ll tell him no luck. Son or not, I will not help a Super who can’t control his emotions get stronger. That just puts other people in danger down the line. So it’s your choice. Stow the violence and listen, or hang here until your best shot at being a Hero swirls down the crapper.”