Corpies (Super Powereds Spinoff Book 1) (10 page)

“So what’s the plan then?” Bubble Bubble took her seat at the table, piling her plate with mostly fruits and veggies alongside a single pancake.

“That’s up to you four,” Owen said, putting far more than one pancake on his plate. Health-assurances aside, he suspected the bulk of the eating would fall on his ample shoulders. “I want to learn about each of you, understand how everyone works on their own as well as on our team. I don’t even know what your jobs entail outside of actual response work, and that’s something that needs rectifying.”

“Sounds like setting you up for a shadow day is the best option,” Galvanize said. “Unfortunately, today I’ve got a debrief meeting about yesterday’s fire. Even if I thought it would be educating, only the team’s leader is allowed to attend. Bubble Bubble, how about you?”

“Photoshoot. He’s welcome to tag along, but it’s just going to be posing for five or six hours.”

“Let’s call that our last resort,” Galvanize said. He looked over at Zone, who was silently stuffing food into his mouth while purposely avoiding any eye contact with Owen. Had he been only a tenth of the leader he was, Galvanize would still have seen that situation for the train wreck it represented. Instead, he turned his gaze to the girl with ink-bottle black hair. “Hexcellent, what have you got today?”

“Decent assortment,” she replied, mouth half-full of berries and pancake. “Doing a store promo, then a mini-photo-shoot with Spyda, plus a small branding meeting. All that paired with the usual shit, of course.”

“Of course. Well, Titan, if you really want to learn more about what we do when not saving people, I think Hexcellent is your best shot today. That work for you?”

“If she doesn’t mind, I’d love to tag along,” Owen said.

“Fine by me,” Hexcellent replied. “It’ll be nice to have someone to carry my bags other than Big Henry. He scratches up damn near everything he touches.”

16.

Owen was surprised to find a car waiting for him and Hexcellent. They’d finished breakfast and gotten into their respective costumes, then headed down to the street level. Hexcellent walked without pause to a dark sedan idling at the curb.

“You don’t drive?”

“Company policy,” Hexcellent sighed. “Two years ago one of their former PEERS got into a fender-bender with some old lady. She developed back problems, went after him and Mordent in court, and generally drummed up a lot of bad press, not to mention drained some cash out of their pockets. Now we’re only allowed to use a car service, unless we’re driving to an actual response in the approved vehicle. Keeps us from being liable.”

“Also keeps you from going anywhere they don’t know about,” Owen added.

“For a guy whose whole career is built on having Armageddon-level muscles, you’re pretty quick on the uptake.” Hexcellent climbed into the back seat, followed by her massive coworker, and the car maneuvered back into traffic.

“I’m actually not Armageddon,” Owen told her once they were buckled up. Laws were laws, even if he was effectively invulnerable. The minute a Hero began to think he was above them was the same moment his downfall began.

“Really? I thought you were this legendary dude with impossible strength.”

“I am, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s pretty much impossible for a strongman to be considered an Armageddon Class threat. We just don’t have the damage capacity.”

Hexcellent cocked her head to the side; today’s blasting of makeup made her look like a somewhat befuddled bat. “Damage? Isn’t the rating system like a power-level thing?”

“No, but a lot of people mistake it for that, even some Heroes.” Owen tried to cross his legs in an effort to find a more comfortable position, but this only resulted in him slightly bending the window lever. “People have tried putting a level system in place plenty of times, actually, it just never holds up. First off, we’re always learning about new people and powers that make us rethink things in terms of scale. Plus, it always goes to shit in that lots of powers negate or overwhelm each other. For example, a good telekinetic can knock most strongmen out of a battle by lifting them off the ground, even if the strongman would be rated higher in terms of raw power.”

“You’re explaining to me how there’s no level system to help me understand the level system,” Hexcellent pointed out. “I’ve got some old Algebra teachers you’d fit in just great with.”

“Sorry, I just wanted to show why measuring Supers by level doesn’t work. What you can measure, regardless of their power, is their capacity for destruction. As I recall, the default rule is it’s how much damage a Super could do if left unchecked for an hour.”

“Sounds sort of morbid, and that’s coming from a girl wearing zombie-themed lipstick.”

Owen nodded. “You won’t hear me disagreeing. It serves a purpose, though: knowing someone’s class tells you how dangerous they are. It informs on how we prioritize protecting civilians, minimizing property damage, and escalating force. There’s minimal need to try to cripple or kill a Standard Class threat if subduing is an option.”

“What if they’re higher up the chain?”

“Then we do what has to be done. No Hero, at least none that lasts, enjoys that part of the job. But if we don’t stop them, innocent people will die. Personally, I always try to subdue or de-escalate first for anything below Armageddon Class. Bear in mind, my power gives me that as an option. Others aren’t so lucky.”

“Jesus, and here I thought all you people did was pick kittens out of trees and foil bank heists.” Hexcellent’s eyes were wide, creating a strange contrast between the whites of her sclera and the ink-black of her makeup.

“PR departments try to de-emphasize that aspect of the job, same as with cops. It might be necessary, but that doesn’t mean people like to think about it.”

“No shit.” Hexcellent turned to look out the window for a bit, watching the buildings roll by. “So what are these classes, then? Like, where would I fit in?”

“You’d be a Standard Class,” Owen replied. “Most Supers are. It means you can do some significant damage and are a danger to life; however, you’re not a threat to a large-scale area.”

“Great, I’m lowest rung.”

“Actually, that would be the NTC Class. It stands for Non-Threatening Combatant, though we just call them ‘knocks’ for short. That nickname comes from the fact that one little tap to the head can usually bring them down. They’re Supers whose abilities are in no way dangerous, meaning they have the same propensity for damage as a regular human. Healers, people with low-caliber display abilities, that sort of thing.”

“But Healers become Heroes, they can’t be that weak,” Hexcellent said.

“It’s not about weak or strong, just about immediate destructive potential,” Owen reminded her.

“All right: so it goes NTC, Standard, then I’m guessing there’s something between that and Armageddon.”

“Two steps: Demolition Class and Manhattan Class. Demo, which is my actual classification by the way, means a Super could level several city blocks if left unchecked. Manhattan means the level of destruction they can wreak would be roughly on par with a nuclear bomb. That’s why Supers like me never hit too high on the scale; we just can’t cover enough ground to be considered a massive threat.”

“Well damn. Here I thought we were at least getting a hot-shit Hero and you’re not even in the second to best class? Maybe we should see if Galvanize thinks you’re really cut out for the penthouse.” Hexcellent smiled at him, showing more warmth than she seemed to share with some of her other team members.

“You can try to throw me out, but I should warn you: I’ve kicked the dogshit out of countless Manhattans and even a few Armageddons. They might be better at large-scale destruction, but I’m in the top when it comes to one-on-one.”

“Unless a telekinetic lifts you in the air,” Hexcellent reminded him.

“I said that works on most strongmen. I’m not among that number.”

“That so? Please enlighten me, great Hero, what secret technique do you use for getting out of such a precarious situation?”

Owen reached into the belt of his uniform and pulled out a few steel balls roughly the size of marbles. “I throw these at whoever lifts me. They’ll at least break the person’s concentration, and if I hit them, the problem pretty much takes care of itself.”

“No way that works. I’ve seen a bunch of telekinetic Heroes hold shields while doing other stuff. They could just block them.”

Owen slipped the balls back into his belt pouch and gave Hexcellent a smile of his own. “Shields, like everything else in this world, can only take so much. Put enough force behind it and the right blow can shatter them.”

“You’d have to be throwing pretty damned hard.”

“Unlike keeping my mouth shut, that’s one of the few things I do well,” Owen said.

17.

The store promo, as Galvanize had called it, turned out to be little more than thankless glad-handing at the opening of the latest Fiery Discussion, Hexcellent’s most prominent sponsor. There was a small crowd there, no doubt drawn by the advertised sales and giveaways meant to promote the new store’s presence in the South Brewster mall. A small black tent was partially obscuring the mall’s walkway; it housed the store’s staff, along with several corporate representatives gathered to greet the eager shoppers. As a representative of Mordent Holdings, the conglomerate that ultimately owned this “rebellious” company, Hexcellent was tasked with circulating through the meager audience.

More people recognized her than Owen had expected. This mystery resolved itself when he glanced through the glass storefront and realized she was heavily featured in posters on the walls. Even those who didn’t seem to recognize her greeted Hexcellent with some warmth: that is, the males among them did. Hexcellent was pretty in a way that appealed to the store’s particular clientele; at the same time, the way she used the store’s products still showcased her natural gifts. True, she wouldn’t be winning any classic beauty pageants even if she did scrub the makeup and tattoos away, but that was what they liked about her. She didn’t look like a model grabbing a paycheck; she appeared to be the genuine article. Since Owen had seen her dress in similar fashions while on her off-time, he had no reason to suspect that wasn’t the case.

“Nice costume.”

Owen glanced down, noticing a gangly male somewhere in his teens staring up at him. Despite all the reasons he had to don his nondescript mask, Owen had shown up in full Titan uniform. He sat away from the corporate folks. As a Hero he needed to take care not to accidentally endorse their products, but he still drew attention as he towered over the rest of the crowd.

“Thanks. Do I look like the real deal?”

“I mean, it’s close, but the real Titan used bolder reds and had different stitching along the seams. Plus, he was taller, not that you can really help that. Still, all in all it’s a commendable job. I bet you could win a few prizes at conventions if you attended.”

Owen suppressed the urge to frown as the teen wandered off to find a new novelty to occupy his time until the doors opened. On one hand, he was glad not to have been recognized. It helped that almost no one knew Titan was back. But. . . taller? It was those damn television cameras, always choosing the perfect angles, making him look like he was even bigger than he was.

“Anyone pieced together that you’re the genuine article yet?” Hexcellent asked, walking over with a water bottle in hand. It surprised him how few swears she’d used since they arrived, but he supposed even among this crowd certain personality aspects required corporate sanitization.

“Not so far,” Owen replied. “Though that last kid said my costume was ‘close.’ So, that’s progress.”

Hexcellent snorted, trying not to spray water from her nose then quickly turning away lest any of the audience should see her near-mishap. “It’s your own fault,” she said as she delicately wiped her face, careful not to smudge any makeup. “You’ve got that gray mask, you could have come semi-incognito.”

“Forget it; I’m here with you. We’re part of a team. Sooner or later people will realize that Hexcellent and Titan are working together. Think of how thrilled these folks will be when they can say they were at the first public appearance.”

“You severely overestimate how many fucks are given about our team.” Hexcellent caught the curse only after it had exited her mouth and glanced around frantically to make sure no one else had heard. “What I mean is, yes, they’ll shake my hand and all, but at the end of the day, that has way more to do with my face and body than with my professional exploits. Same is true for everyone on the team.”

“I disagree,” Owen replied. “You all save lives for a living. Just because this group doesn’t understand and respect that doesn’t mean there aren’t others who do. I bet at least one kid you’ve pulled out of a wrecked car or burning building has a poster of you over his bed.”

“Trust me; I’ve seen the sales numbers, and statistically your statement is probably true. Personally, I try not to think about all the other posters of me that get sold. You know, to people who don’t know my name. Gives me the creepy-shivers.”

One of the men wearing a collared shirt with the Fiery Discussion emblem on it was waving Hexcellent back over. It seemed they were nearly ready to open the doors, meaning Hexcellent had to stand by to do another round of greetings and handshakes that lingered a bit too long. Owen watched her leave when his ears suddenly pricked up.