Super Powereds: Year 3 (53 page)

                “No, sir. I’m asking if, theoretically, I did something like that, it’s the kind of thing I should just keep to myself, or if I had to report it.” Will’s face was placid and unreadable, a stark contrast to the shocked looks most of the class was giving him. “You’ve emphasized countless times that Subtlety Heroes often have to use whatever resources they can to accomplish their goals, putting the importance of the mission first. I suppose I’m asking if we’re addressing this task as we would a real one in the Subtlety Hero world.”

                “That is, surprisingly, a very fair question to ask,” Professor Pendleton replied. “Mr. Murray is correct; we frequently do things like hacking or breaking-and-entering. As often as possible, we try to go through proper channels and respect the law, but sometimes, there isn’t time to do so. In those cases, we have to file pain-in-the-ass after-action reports justifying what we did. So there’s your answer, Mr. Murray. If you break a law, I expect you to report it and fill out the proper documentation just like any other Subtlety Hero would.”

                “Yes, sir.”

                “That goes for the rest of you too. Don’t hurt anyone, obviously, but if it comes down to it, and you think you can make a case for why law-breaking was necessary, it’s your call.”

                Several of the students shifted in their seats, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of deviating from the safety of the law. That was good; most Heroes shouldn’t be so willing to break the rules. They needed to be paragons, symbols of respect and virtue. It was heartening to see so many of his students ill-at-ease with the idea of ignoring laws for their own tasks.

                It was somewhat less heartening when Professor Pendleton realized Alice Adair showed no discomfort toward the idea at all.

98.

               “. . . and when I woke up, she was gone. I looked all over for her, searched as hard as a homeless Powered with no money or Internet could, but eventually, I had to leave that town too. I never knew if she was hurt, or killed, or just didn’t want to be there when I woke up. Seeing her at the club that night . . . I guess I should have been a little angrier, since it’s now obvious that she bailed on me. I was just too overjoyed to feel upset.”

                Vince wiped his eyes with some tissues; they’d spilled over once or twice during his story, yet he had continued to push through and tell it. Now that it was done, he felt more settled. The wildfire that had been burning through his veins began to flicker out at last.

                “That is quite an experience,” Dr. Moran said. “Sixteen, your first love, first sexual partner, and then to lose her so soon after your father left your life; it’s no surprise this left such an impression on you.”

                “I sort of feel like Thie—Eliza has been haunting me. When I was with Sasha, I kept drifting off and thinking about her. I’ve avoided any new relationships until I could get that under control, but I never expected to actually see her again.”

                “It is funny how people come back to us in the most unexpected ways.” Dr. Moran paused, considering how much she should say to Vince in his fragile state. Generally, it was best to let patients come to their own conclusions; however, Vince was far from emotionally actualized and would require at least some degree of prompting.

                “Let me ask you, Vince, what are you going to do now?”

                “I have no idea. I need to see her again, to make sure she’s real. Maybe I can get some answers out of her about why she left. After that, I’m totally clueless.” Vince crumpled the used tissues in his hand and dropped them into the wastebasket at his side.

                “Then let’s explore the possible results of what you know you will do. You’re going to talk to her, assuming she keeps her word and contacts you. When that happens, you will try and get answers. The possible outcomes are that she refuses to give you any, she gives you ones that completely explain away her absence, or she tells you ones that still indicate she abandoned you,” Dr. Moran said. There were, of course, countless more scenarios than that, but for Vince, keeping things finite and simple worked best. “Walk me through each of those situations. How do you feel you’ll react?”

                “Truthfully, I still don’t know. I’d like to say that if she has a perfect reason, I’ll be overjoyed and can just pick things up where they left off, but I’m not certain that’s what I want anymore.”

                “Oh? You indicated Eliza had stayed on your mind ever since her disappearance.”

                “She has, just not always in a good way. What I wanted, what I was working toward, was letting her go. I didn’t want to be haunted anymore. I was trying to . . . move on.”

                “I see,” Dr. Moran noted. “Perhaps there was someone else working their way into your heart, someone you wanted to make room for?”

                Vince stayed silent for a long moment, so long that Dr. Moran began to fear he had shut down and would refuse to talk anymore.

                “Last year, when Rich put me under, I was supposed to protect the person I was in love with. That’s the suggestion Nick told him to give. My memories of that hallucination have always been muddy, but there is one part that sticks out perfectly clearly. I was talking to a girl, and she had dark, curly hair, like Eliza. Then, when a lock fell from her face, it was pale-blonde and straight. I still can’t remember her face, but the hair is unforgettable. It took me months to realize what that meant.”

                “If you’re willing to share, I’d love to hear it.” Dr. Moran was already quite certain of the meaning; she just needed Vince to say it out loud.

                “I think, I mean I’m pretty sure, it meant that I was in love with Eliza and . . . someone else.”

                “Someone with pale-blonde hair, I assume.”

                “Yeah.” Vince didn’t know why he couldn’t say her name. Dr. Moran ran the healing department; there was no way she didn’t understand who he was talking about. Yet, try as he might, it just wasn’t something he was ready to hear pass his lips.

                “That seems a very astute assessment,” Dr. Moran agreed. “Had Eliza remained a phantom of the past, you might very well have succeeded in letting her go. Unfortunately, we do not live in a world of might-have-been; we reside in one where she has resurfaced and must be dealt with, in one way or another.”

                “You make it sound like I have to fight her.” Vince allowed himself a small laugh at that idea.

                “If only it were that easy to deal with problems. You lot would put me out of a job.” Dr. Moran gave him a small, yet warm smile. “No, what I mean is that you have to deal with her reappearance. You can seek answers from her, try to rekindle your relationship, or opt to never see her again. Yes, cutting her out of your life is still a method of dealing with her, because it means you’ve committed to sticking her in the past. Like it or not, meeting her again happened, and now, only you can determine what the right path forward is.”

                “At least the first step is easy,” Vince said. “I have to talk to her. Where I go from there will depend on what she says. But if I don’t go, then I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put her behind me. The wonder of what she might have said or what could have happened will stay with me forever.”

                “There is one other possibility we haven’t discussed, Vince. Eliza abandoned you once before. It could happen again.”

                “Then that’s the kind of person she is. Actually, that might be the easiest one to make peace with. If she’s the kind of girl who breaks promises and bails like this, I think I could finally be done with her.”

                Dr. Moran didn’t say it, but she hoped that was exactly what happened. Vince was fragile in his own way; this girl could do serious harm if she wanted to. As his therapist, the last thing she wanted was to see him take drastic steps backward.

                And, as an HCP official, the last thing she wanted was a Super of his level and meltdown history losing control. Again.

99.

               “So, how does it feel, being back at your Alma Mater?” Professor Sean Pendleton asked. After his class had ended, he’d joined up with Blaine and Clarissa, who were chatting in the dean’s office. The tall man breezed through the door and settled into one of the more comfortable chairs, unapologetically interrupting the conversation they’d already been having.

                “Odd, nostalgic, sad, fun, and quite a bit daring,” Clarissa replied.

                “Daring?” Blaine asked his question without turning his head; he was currently busy filling up water glasses for all of them.

                “Certainly. I am sitting in the dean’s office, after all. Remember how many times Victor tried to goad us into breaking in here and toilet papering the place as a senior prank?”

                “Oh Victor, so much muscle, so little forethought,” Sean recalled. “Dean Merrick would have shit a chicken if we’d actually done that.”

                “As acting dean, I’ve seen a few students try to gain unauthorized entry, but I can say that it is not procedure to excrete any kind of fowl as a reaction.”

                “Then tell us, Blaine, what do you do to them?” Clarissa asked.

                “Depends on the student. Most are talked into it by someone more persuasive or confident than themselves. They get a week of supplemental gym training.”

                Sean shivered involuntarily. He’d been on the receiving end of that sentence more than a few times in his Lander days. The professors had worn him down until even walking back to the dorms had required the assistance of his stronger classmates. Occasionally, he’d have nightmares of being back here and getting handed that punishment, even all these decades later.

                “What about the ringleader?” Sean asked.

                “They get some punishment too, but I also tend to write them letters of recommendation if they haven’t taken an internship yet.” Blaine set a glass down in front of each guest and kept one for himself. Usually, he preferred bourbon when entertaining; however, he and Sean still had a day of work ahead of them.

                “A letter of recommendation . . . actually, I can see that,” Clarissa said. “It takes serious leadership skills to get seniors to do something that dumb. Victor could never pull it off, not even when he got Sean on his side. The only ones who might have been able to talk us into it were Joshua and Phil.”

                The words slipped off her tongue before Clarissa could catch them in her lips, lingering in the air like a rotten stench. Phil was something she tried not to talk about, especially not with other members of her graduating class. It was just too much, too dangerous. Thankfully, Sean plowed right over it in his usual cavalier way.

                “I’ll give you those two, sure, but I think you might have been able to organize a successful raid too. The way Victor and Casper both mooned over you, it would have been pretty easy to pull off.”

                “They weren’t that bad,” Clarissa said.

                “I’m with Sean on this one,” Blaine added. “Victor’s torch burned for you even after graduation. Or did you never notice how Bullrush always seemed to need lots of transport when Shimmerpath was doing the coordination?”

                “By willful ignorance, I chose to believe that was just a coincidence.” Clarissa set her water down on the desk, gathering her composure. “Perhaps I should have kept that skill sharp; it might have kept me from seeing things today. It’s the boy with the silver hair, right?”

                “That obvious?” Blaine asked.

                “Not unless you’re looking for it, no. But once you are, it’s impossible to miss. His movements, his demeanor . . . the boy must have absolutely idolized Phil to have imitated him to such an extent.”

                “Phil was the first person to ever give Vince a family. He took him in, raised him by himself, taught the kid everything he knows about how to live,” Sean said. “What child wouldn’t idolize a person like that?”

                “Unfortunately, that very idolization is what’s now causing Vince trouble,” Blaine added. “His association with the criminal known as Globe has put him under exceptional scrutiny. There are people searching for any reason they can find to bar him from the title of Hero.”

                “Fucking DVA lackeys,” Clarissa spat. “I got so sick of their bullshit toward the end; that’s why I went off the Hero-grid so completely. No one would leave me alone after the Globe fiasco, and I didn’t have Charles’s connections to make them back off. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for Vince. No one should have to deal with those pricks, especially not a kid.”

                “There actually might be something you can do,” Blaine said slowly. “A small side-project that may come to fruition, and if it does, then someone with your abilities would be priceless to have.”

                “This is news to me,” Sean said.

                “I’m keeping it quiet until I see if it actually goes anywhere. Until then, all I can say is that you, Clarissa, and you as well, Sean, would make a great difference to have on hand.”