Super Powereds: Year 2 (78 page)

“I’d find that last one hard to swallow,” Professor Pendleton said, taking a loud sip of his shake. “The rest I can buy. At least you were able to get away both times I tried to grab you.”

“With all due respect, I think we both know you could have done a lot better.”

“Maybe I was trying to give you all a fighting chance,” Professor Pendleton pointed out.

“Well, at least that worked out for one of us,” Nick replied.

“Two,” Will corrected, stepping into the gazebo. He checked the digital watch on his wrist. “Five minutes after the stopping point. I believe that means I pass?”

“That you do, but I have to ask how. You haven’t been anywhere near us for some time,” Professor Pendleton said.

Will took a seat on the uncomfortable benches with them then explained. “I started hanging back after you got more aggressive in taking people out of the game. My tactic for tracking you was effective, but it did not possess a practical early warning system.”

“What, did you slip a tracker on him?”

Will nodded. “At first, yes. I used a mobile reconnaissance device I designed that was able to attach itself to him and relay his position to me. The professor ditched it at the first outfit change, unfortunately.”

“This is hardly my first rodeo,” Professor Pendleton replied.

“I’d calculated for such a possibility. Since you were kind enough to provide us the event’s location ahead of time, I spent the last few days before this breaking into their security system and designing a program specifically to locate and track Professor Pendleton’s facial features across the security cameras.” Will pulled a small device from his pocket; it looked like a car GPS unit to which he’d clearly done a tremendous amount of rewiring. “That’s why it took me a few minutes to get here. I was watching from far enough away to stay safe.”

“I have to say, I’m impressed,” Professor Pendleton admitted. “You planned, created contingencies, and used all the advanced information you had to construct as effective a strategy as you could. Well done, Mr. Murray.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Professor Pendleton finished his frozen treat and tossed it in the garbage then looked at his own watch. “Four minutes left, and to no one’s surprise, it seems Ms. Adair is nowhere in sight. We’ll wait the remaining time for the sake of formalit-”

“Freeze, you lowlife,” a uniformed officer said, hefting Professor Pendleton up by his shoulder and slamming it into one of the gazebo’s ancient wooden supports. It was sturdier than expected; the pain radiating through Professor Pendleton’s shoulder serving as excellent testament to that fact.

“I’m not sure what you think-”

“Did I tell you to talk?” The officer’s voice was a growl, anger barely contained as it twitched across his face. “Miss? Is this the man?”

From an entryway to the left a familiar form stepped out of the shadows, strolling its way across the grassy outcropping before coming to rest just outside of the gazebo’s interior.

“That’s him, officer,” Alice said, faux-distress rampant in her voice. “I’d recognize him anywhere.”

“What is going on?”

“What’s going on is that this establishment does not take kindly to men who walk around snapping pictures up women’s skirts.”

“Who WHAT?”

“Don’t bother, sicko. This young lady saw you using your camera when the women weren’t looking. Thank goodness, if not for her we might not have found you before you got away.”

Professor Pendleton looked over at Alice, who took the opportunity to pointedly take the last step into the gazebo, and twist her arm so that the face of her watch was showing. Fourteen minutes past that deadline. She’d just barely made it.

The professor continued to protest as the officer dragged him away, presumably toward some office for security footage to be reviewed. Alice sauntered past the shocked expressions of both her classmates and plopped onto the seat where their teacher had been only moments before.

“So,” she said nonchalantly. “Anyone up for dinner?”

155.

Dean Blaine’s front door slammed shut as Sean Pendleton traipsed through it, making a beeline for the dean’s fridge and pulling out a cold beer. He downed it in one practiced chugging motion then pulled out two more before allowing the fridge to close.

“Four hours!” Sean said loudly, a phrase he’d repeated many times in the drive back from the mall. Blaine grabbed one of the beers from Sean’s hands before it disappeared down his throat. He might need a bit of a buzz to deal with his old friend. “Four fucking hours I had to sit in that shitty little office while they went over footage from every damn angle.”

“It would have been faster if we hadn’t had to try and explain all your outfit changes,” Blaine pointed out.

“Four hours! All because of one stupid lie that should have sorted itself as soon as they realized that I didn’t even have a damned phone on me!”

“That worked against us, actually. They kept thinking you’d ditched the evidence somewhere.”

Sean fell into a chair and greedily gulped half of his beer. Blaine had been called in as soon as the arrest occurred, functioning as a cross between a lawyer and a guardian as the police combed through the footage for any evidence of Sean’s supposed crimes. They’d found none, of course, but somehow it had still taken several hours (four, in case that wasn’t clear yet) before they were comfortable letting him go. His usual carefree disposition had melted away under the intense scrutiny and sense of time being wasted.

“And the worst part of it is that now I have to pass her.”

“That’s the worst part? You’re a prisoner on a work detail who got hauled in for a serious crime, one he didn’t actually commit, and that’s the worst part?” Blaine didn’t even try to keep the incredulous tone from his voice.

“Yes, it is. I just got manhandled for four hours and I don’t even get to fail the girl who did it to me out of spite, because damn it if her methods didn’t produce results.”

“You know, the other majors have these things called ‘ethics’ that can be applied to the methods one uses to achieve results. I’ve heard legend they exist in regular academia.”

“Which is where they belong. Subtlety is the grey area of our work, you know that as well as I do. So long as they aren’t using torture or murder or ruining lives I can’t very well fault one of my students for finding a novel way to succeed within the parameters I provide them.” Sean readjusted on the sofa and took another, smaller, drink from his beer. “Even if it would give a tremendous amount of personal satisfaction to do just that, it would set a bad precedent, and my inconvenient evening doesn’t rank higher than teaching my students properly. Will hacked the security system using the technological aspect, Alice hacked it using the human aspect. Deception is right there in the curriculum.”

“For a man forced into this role, you certainly have taken well to it,” Blaine pointed out.

Sean gave him a shrug. “What my people do is dangerous. I’ve got enough on my conscience without worrying if I under-trained some kid and sent them off to their death.”

“Speaking of things on your mind,” Blaine said, setting his beer on the table. “I notice you haven’t asked me anything about what we discussed in your cell on the day I offered you the job.”

“Did you have some new development to tell me about?”

“No.”

“Me neither. I sort of figured you would have mentioned if you did, so there wasn’t much point in pestering you about it.” Sean finished his second beer and set the empty bottle on Blaine’s coffee table.

“I know, I just... I suppose I thought you’d be more impatient.”

“Blaine, this has been my life for almost two decades. Patience wasn’t my strongpoint when I was younger, but I assure you I have grown much more familiar with the concept over my time waiting impotently in prison. I know Shelby is out there, somewhere. Unfortunately, what little trail there might have been was destroyed while I rotted in the slammer. If I go grasping about blindly, all I’m going to do is tip off the wrong people that I’m still looking. Sooner or later, something will pop up. Some clue, some piece of the puzzle we haven’t seen yet. When it does, I’ll be ready.”

“If it does, I’ll help you as much as I can,” Blaine replied.

“You got me out of my cell. I’d say that alone was more than I had any right to ask from you. Thank you, by the way. I know I was a prick when you came to make me the offer. I’m glad you didn’t let my jaded anger make me miss out on such an amazing opportunity.”

Blaine waved him off. “Cut that crap out. Once you’ve saved each other’s lives a few times, the smaller favors stop being much of a big deal. Besides, I always felt bad about having to be the one who brought you down in the first place.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I knew the risks I was taking when I made my choice. You did what we all promised to do: you stopped a criminal that regular people couldn’t.”

Silence stretched between the old friends after that, broken by a brief trip to the refrigerator for more beers. Eventually the television was turned on, and though it was stared at, it would be inaccurate to say it was watched.

“What were you trying to steal?” Blaine asked as the program flickered away to a commercial break.

“Huh?” Sean’s vocal chords leapt out ahead of his brain, registering the sounds from Blaine’s mouth but unable to piece together their meaning.

“The night I caught you. Most of what you took before was art, or mercenary theft work for money. I don’t know what you were spending it on, even if I do know the general point you were working toward. That night was different. A genetics lab didn’t really fit your target profile.”

Sean stalled, fidgeting with his beer and pretending to pay attention to the man hawking insurance on the screen. “I trust you, Blaine. I do. But this is something I don’t think you want to know. So, if you insist, I’ll tell you. But understand me first: I haven’t kept this secret for so long because it made me feel special. Sometimes knowing a single fact can change everything, and rarely for the better. So if you ask me again, be damned certain you’re ready for everything that comes with it.”

Blaine nodded his understanding and turned back to the television. Sean wouldn’t say that sort of thing without good reason, and Blaine had too much on his plate as it was. He would ask again, of that there was no doubt in his mind.

It would just have to wait for a bit longer.

156.

“Come in, Mary,” Professor Stone said, interrupting Mary’s intended knock before it could land on the door frame. The diminutive girl lowered her hand and stepped into the office without comment. It was still strange for her, being the one whose thoughts were heard rather than the one doing the hearing. Fleetingly she wondered if conferences of telepaths were like mime conventions, only verbal silence amidst the sound of a bustling hallway full of people.

“We don’t get together too often, mostly because of the strange feeling you’re currently experiencing,” Professor Stone said to the unasked question. “It’s humorous that we, of all people, are the least comfortable with having our minds read. One would think we’d be more open to it than anyone else.”

“Maybe it’s because we know what goes through other people’s heads that we don’t like it,” Mary pointed out.

“A valid point,” Professor Stone agreed. “Would you care for anything to drink? I can make us a pot of coffee.” A worn-out coffee maker was plugged in at the corner of her office, the red indicator light burned out to a point where one rolled the dice on getting burned every time they touched the heating plate.

“I’m more of a tea person. Thank you anyway.”

“So, would you like to tell me why you came by my office, or should we just proceed with me addressing the issue?”

“I think I’d like to articulate it,” Mary said. “That will help me keep my thoughts in order. I wanted to ask you for advice on increasing my level of precision and control with telekinesis. Training with Alex these past weeks has made me see just how great a divide rests between the two of us. Since I’ve seen your skills, I was hoping you might have some advice.”

“A perfectly reasonable question,” Professor Stone said. “One that I will likely be unable to fulfill, however, at least not to the extent you’re hoping for. The truth of the matter is that the exercises I teach in our Focus classes are what you need to be doing. They will help you improve steadily, if slowly.”

“I was worried you’d say that.”

Professor Stone sighed and shifted in her chair. “Unfortunately for Alex there is more demand for raw power than delicacy in people of our craft. You’ll likely go much further than he will, even though his precision is at a level you won’t ever reach.”

“Never?”

“I’m not saying you won’t improve; however, even among those of us with similar powers there is still room for individual variations and talents to shine. I assume the dean gave your group the ‘classification is meaningless’ speech last year?”

Mary nodded. It was one of the lectures that had stuck with her the most.

“Good. While I don’t agree with him on every point, Dean Blaine is right in that people are far too comfortable lumping us all together. Just as two men who are both good at directing might excel in different genres, two people with telepathy might have different aspects to what they can do. Take me, for example. I have an unusual gift with seeing people’s memories. With physical contact and time to concentrate, I can mentally experience almost anything that has happened to them.”

“So Alex’s specialty is his level of telekinetic control,” Mary surmised. “And mine is the amount of power I can throw around.”

“Yes and no. You are gifted in how much force you can utilize, but most of that strength comes from your years as a Powered. All that time dealing with the influx of thoughts taught you to narrow your focus, which in turn translates to a stronger telekinetic strike,” Professor Stone corrected. “I’ve done similar training myself. What I’m referring to are the subtle differences, small things we can do that we take for granted others can do as well, despite the fact that such is often not the case.”