Corpies (Super Powereds Spinoff Book 1) (22 page)

“There are all different kinds of smart. I’ve got a cousin that can’t remember what he had for breakfast but can quote Tolstoy without missing a beat. Building a robot doesn’t mean someone can’t overestimate their own chances at taking down Heroes.”

“But you don’t think it’s likely,” Owen replied.

“Hell no. Shit, with all the upstarts in this town, not even I can keep track of the Heroes flowing through, and half my damn job is information,” Jeremiah said. Owen doubted the truth of the statement; most Subtlety Heroes tended to undersell themselves when dealing with those they didn’t completely trust. It was one of the many ways they stayed a step ahead of everyone outside their team. “Anyway, if this bot-maker is aiming for a purge, they’ll need a lot more generations to make it viable. Once Elemental Fury took command, the Heroes put those little fucks down hard.”

“Speaking of Elemental Fury, what team do you work for, Jeremiah?”

“Not one that a Hero like you would be familiar with, just a small collective of like-minded Heroes who operate under the name Modus Operandi. Nothing too fancy or flashy; we never even make the top lists of popular Hero teams.”

“Modus Operandi. . . isn’t that the team composed entirely of Subtlety Heroes?”

Jeremiah tilted his head ever-so-slightly and looked at his drinking buddy with new respect. “You actually did enough research to know about us? I’m genuinely impressed. Every story I’ve heard paints you as a sheer brute with little mind to speak of.”

“Gee, what a compliment,” Owen sighed. “I swear, just because I can throw tanks people assume I’m a muscle-headed idiot. I researched most of the Hero teams after I met with Gale; the last thing I wanted to do was rub anyone else the wrong way and end up dealing with unnecessary problems.”

“From what I hear about your upcoming power assessment, you did a fairly shitty job of that.”

Owen shot Jeremiah a hard glance, but he just shrugged and drank more blue liquid. Jeremiah was a Subtlety Hero, after all; it was essentially his job to be plugged in to every outlet of information he could. New Heroes in town, and any friction they might be causing, would certainly be part of that.

“Well, in a few days you’ll get to see firsthand just how bad I am at handling these kinds of situations. The assessment is officially scheduled and set up so that everyone who wants to can see it. Makes me miss the days when all people did was try and kill me in my sleep.”

“Worried you’ll get trounced?”

“Nope, other direction.”

“Ah, a man who at least believes he lives up to his legend,” Jeremiah polished off his drink and motioned to the bartender for another. “Look, don’t fret about it too much. Elemental Fury is a legacy team with outstanding stats and a reputation that deserves respect. That said, we all know Gale has a bit of a stick up her ass. No one is going to hold it against you if you manage to knock her down a few pegs. Well, no one aside from Gale, I mean.”

“Maybe not, but this wasn’t really how I wanted to come back on to the Hero scene.”

“From what I know about you, you sure as hell didn’t leave Hero work under the circumstances you would have chosen; I don’t see why your return should be any different.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re terrible at cheering people up?” Owen asked.

“Chin up, Titan. What I’m saying is you’re disgraced and tons of people hate you. You’re already in the shitpile. So what’s the worst that can happen here? Some people like what you do, some hate it, either way nothing really changes. That’s the upside of being disgraced and hated: you’ve got more freedom than the rest of us. You’re the only one who can truly say and do what he wants without fear of image repercussions. You’re free, Titan. Stop moping about and enjoy it, for fuck’s sake.”

40.

               The next week was a tame one; Mr. Greene kept his distance as Owen continued to get more familiar with his team. They weren’t called on any rescue jobs, which struck Owen as a touch odd when he watched the news and saw what was happening the city, but it wasn’t his place to push on that front. After the lines he’d aggressively drawn with Greene in their fight, he didn’t have any right to go stepping into the other man’s territory.

When Owen woke up on Wednesday, however, it was not with any questions about what the day held in store. This was the day of his power assessment. The details had been finalized on Monday; he was going to Elemental Fury’s base at noon (the symbolism wasn’t lost on him one bit) to be formally tested by the Hero team. There would be an almost-live feed of the event (slightly delayed in case someone said something unHerolike or a mask came lose and censoring was needed) fed to every person who had purchased the pay-per-view. From what Lenny had told Owen the day before, that was quite a large number of people. On the plus side, when all this was over, Owen would be getting a considerable sum of money no matter how it played out. If he could still get drunk, he likely would have put every cent toward enough whiskey to wash away the memory of the whole ordeal.

Owen suited up in his Titan gear that morning. There was no need to lie about and pretend this wouldn’t dominate his day. He was officially off the clock as a Hero Liaison until Thursday, leaving him the whole morning to worry about the fallout from this test. Owen shook it off as he slipped on his mask and pressed the button to activate his earpiece.

“Titan, reporting in.”

“Dispatch recognizes Titan. You are shown as inactive today for a power assessment with Elemental Fury. Do you wish to change this status?”

For a moment, Owen was tempted to do just that. If he went active in the morning, it might give him the chance to clear his head and work off some nerves. Best case scenario, if he got pinned down in something big, it could give him a valid reason to skip the assessment altogether. Sadly, tempting as it was, he had to decline the option. Someone in trouble deserved a Hero with their head in the game, and even if he did postpone the assessment, it just meant more time to dread the damn thing. Better to meet it head on and be done.

“No, that status is accurate,” Owen replied, just a touch of regret in his voice. “Checking in to see if there have been any more robot attacks, ones that the news might not have covered.”

“None so far.” Dispatch didn’t have to specify things like “that I know of” or any such nonsense. If Dispatch didn’t know of it, then it hadn’t happened. “In the current suspected pattern there are several weeks between attacks.”

“I know, just making sure,” Owen sighed. Jeremiah had given him wonderful intelligence, more than Owen could have rightfully asked for, but it didn’t change the fact that he still had no idea what to do next. Nothing frustrated Owen more than being aware of a problem but not being able to deal with it. He was a physical man; he liked to be in the thick of trouble rather than standing around with his thumb up his ass.

“There’s little need to bother checking in. You’ve been moved to priority response when their next attack occurs.”

This was news to Owen, and it showed on his face. Not that Dispatch could tell. Actually, given how much she knew, Owen really couldn’t be sure that she didn’t have some way to watch him when they talked. Priority on a response was which Heroes were tapped first, something he didn’t technically have the right to. For general incidents they went with whoever was closest, but sometimes certain Heroes were tracking a case or had a proven track record against a threat, and it made the most sense to call them in first.

“Who moved me to priority?”

“Unfortunately I am not at liberty to release that information,” Dispatch told him.

Now that was something interesting. Plenty of Heroes had worked their way up to get some say in priority management, but very few had the sort of clearance to move people around without it being on official record. That spoke to someone who was deeply connected, probably with ties to the DVA. With all the noise Owen had been making about his interest in the robots, it was going to be tough to figure out just who had shuffled him into the queue.

“Thanks for letting me know. Even if I’m off the comm, please try to reach me for that. I really want a crack at those things.”

“Of course. I will follow priority protocol as required,” Dispatch said. “Do you have anything else you wish to ask about?”

“No, guess I may as well grab breakfast before my damn assessment.”

“There is no need to worry. Assessments are safe, carefully monitored procedures.”

“Mine’s a bit different than most,” Owen said.

“I’m fully aware of that; yours comes with political ramifications in the Hero field. May I offer some advice to your predicament?”

“By all means, I’d love to hear what you have to say.”

“Be polite, be careful, and be gracious in either victory or defeat.”

It was exactly in line with what Owen had expected her to say. That was Dispatch: always detached, always appropriate, always controlled.

Except. . . she wasn’t quite done talking yet.

“Also, make sure to really kick some ass.”

Owen nearly dropped one of the gloves he’d been slipping over his sizable hands in surprise.

“Beg pardon?”

“You heard me. Titan has been more myth than man for many years now, but some of us remember who you used to be. We’ve been waiting for you to come back to us. Don’t make your first true performance a lackluster affair. The world still needs a Titan. Remind everyone who’s forgotten exactly why that is.”

“I. . . um. . . yeah. Yes.” Titan felt his resolve strengthen. She was right. He hadn’t come back to this world to play politics or patty-cake with an insecure Hero. He’d come back to make a difference, to ensure that every time a criminal said his name they used the same terrified whisper that children used to ask who was there in a dark room. The more scared of him they were, the more often they surrendered, the less people got hurt. It was Heroing 101, and it was time to remind people why entire gangs would once throw down their weapons at the mere mention of the name Titan.

“Thanks, Dispatch.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to. It is merely my duty to relay all relevant information as needed.” There might have been a touch of snarkiness in her voice, but with Dispatch it was nearly impossible to tell. That was okay, though. She’d already given him enough for today.

41.

When Owen emerged from his room, he found the rest of his team already waiting in the kitchen, clustered together near the breakfast table. Zone looked grumpy and Bubble Bubble seemed bored. Owen barely had time to register their presence before a wave of tantalizing scents hit him at the same time they realized he was there.

“Surprise!” Galvanize announced. “We made you a good luck breakfast.”

The scent was becoming more defined now, and as it sank in Owen realized it was both familiar and delicious.

“Is that. . . did you all make actual waffles and bacon?” The rumble from his stomach nearly overshadowed Owen’s words. Aside from a few hastily grabbed meals from street vendors, he’d been eating at the penthouse since arriving in Brewster, and each of those meals had been a balanced blend of nutrition and terrible.

“Snuck in the ingredients myself,” Hexcellent said, a not-small amount of pride in her voice. “We’re still eating the usual stuff—God knows Greene will shit a kitten if we gain an ounce. But we thought you deserved a real meal before your throw down.”

“I envy your ability to put down such food and retain such a svelte figure,” Bubble Bubble said. From her, it was about as involved and nice a compliment as he could expect.

“Wow. I, um, I didn’t expect this. Thanks. All of you. I mean it.” Sometimes Owen hated his difficulty expressing emotions. It wasn’t like it came from some macho complex; his damned tongue just went dumb when he got overwhelmed by sentiment. When his sons were born, he’d barely been able to string three words together.

“We wanted you to know we support you, as a member of our team,” Galvanize said. If there was any guile or subterfuge in his words, it was too well-hidden for Owen to sense. No, this was just the sort of thing that Galvanize did, because he was a good man and a damned fine leader. Owen found himself thinking that if only the young PEERS had been born with a better ability, he would have made a fine Hero.

“I appreciate i-” Owen was cut off by another rumble from his stomach; this one actually managed to overtake his words.

“We get it, you’re thankful. Now come eat before the offices downstairs start complaining about the noise,” Hexcellent instructed him.

Owen did just that, walking into the kitchen and piling up a plate of lopsided waffles and slightly overdone bacon. Good as their intentions were, the fact remained that none of them had much experience cooking this kind of food. Not that Owen said a word about it; he was so touched by the gesture that everything could have been burned to charcoal and he’d have devoured each bite with gusto.

“Tell us about what this trial of yours involves,” Hexcellent demanded once they were all seated at the table. “Us little shits have never gone through such high and mighty rituals.”