Corpies (Super Powereds Spinoff Book 1) (45 page)

“Cruel, but not inaccurate,” Jeremiah said. “At any rate, you can trust that the man in charge of making the tracking device has the skills to make it work, assuming it’s doable in the first place. This means that when the attack does come, we will have Heroes functioning in two distinct capacities. Most will be tasked with bringing down the robots and protecting the civilians, but there will be a few of us whose jobs revolve around tracking their orders to the source. Once there, we’ll hopefully be able to put an end to these antics for good.”

“Why are we assuming they’ll attack?” Owen’s voice bounced off the bare wooden walls, no doubt echoing down to the smoked meat shop they were standing over even as the other Heroes turned in their chairs to face him. “Jeremiah said it himself: they’ve deviated from their old pattern. If all the other attacks were to refine their designs and figure out our weak spots, what does another fight gain for them?”

“That, my giant comrade, is the billion dollar question.” Jeremiah reached out and turned off the projector, his presentation having reached its end. “We know another attack is coming because most of the technology stolen during the break-ins was centered around weaponry or national defense. Not exactly the sorts of party favors one stocks up on if the battles are over. As to the why, that I genuinely have no answer for. If I knew, I’d be able to anticipate more and we wouldn’t be flying so blind. It’s possible Titan is right, with the pattern deviations there might not come any more battles. We may never see or hear from these damn robots again.”

“But you’re betting otherwise,” Gale surmised.

“I am. My team is. And we feel it behooves us to be as ready as possible when the time for action comes,” Jeremiah said.

“Then why are there only the five of us here?” Deadlift asked. “Shouldn’t you be getting the word out to as many Heroes as possible?”

“What word would that be, exactly?” Jeremiah countered. “That a giant, unpredictable attack may or may not be coming, and that if it does we have no idea when or where it will be from, nor will we know what the attacking enemies are capable of? I’ve just described every single day that a Hero wakes up to; nothing about that situation is novel. We five are here because, assuming you all accept, our task will be a different one. Should this strike come, I’ll be looking to you five to help me run down the device at the center of everything.”

“You’re picking an. . . interesting lineup.” Gale scanned the room with fresh eyes, lingering on Deadlift the longest as she took stock of her allies.

“Someone who can move through anything, someone who can lift anything, someone who can get anywhere, and someone who is functionally unstoppable.” Jeremiah ticked off their abilities on his fingers as he rattled them off one by one. “I dislike going into any situation without a veritable filing cabinet full of research and planning, but since I have to fly blind on this one, it only seemed prudent to pick Heroes whose combined abilities were up to any conceivable challenge, the majority of whom were seasoned warriors with excellent decision making skills.”

“It’s not a bad team, at least for infiltration,” Owen agreed. “If you need our help actually finding the place, though-”

“Thank you, but no. That much we’ll have well in hand,” Jeremiah assured him. “I just need to know if, should chaos rain down on us, you’ll be willing to come help me end it. This was what I hoped to accomplish today by making you all fully aware of the situation.”

“It’ll depend on the exact moment you call; I doubt any of us will leave our people in the lurch,” Gale said, rising from her seat. “But if I can swing it, I’ll come by.”

“Good to hear,” Jeremiah replied. “Perhaps you can pick up Titan, so we’re not stuck waiting for him to lightheartedly jog across the city.”

86.

Owen’s team was a touch more subdued as they pulled into the parking lot early for the Supers Care Charity Spectacular’s second day. Now accustomed to their activities, they’d realized that, the setting aside, it wasn’t really all that different from things they usually did when not on rescue calls: shake hands, pose for pictures, and make nice with the public. Besides, one day of sitting in those tents as guests walked by was all it took to remind them that they were secondary attractions. Between the sports stars and Heroes filling the ranks, few people even noticed that a team of corpies was present. While this should have been disheartening, it curiously had the opposite effect. Being out of the spotlight for a change took some of the pressure off and allowed them to enjoy themselves.

It had been a good call to spend a day getting settled, and Owen mentally tipped his cap to whoever had scheduled things out in such a way. As the crew unloaded from the SUV, however, Galvanize stopped them to deal with the one potential sore spot looming on their day’s horizon.

“All right, everyone, you’ve all got your schedules and know where to head, but I want to make sure we’re all clear on where to be at three this afternoon.” Galvanize pulled out a printed map of the fairgrounds and pointed to a moderately-sized outdoor pavilion on the eastern side. “The panel starts at half past three, so we need to be there early to get ready.”

Hexcellent stretched her hand in the air and waved it about, like a kindergartener racing the clock to get permission to use the restroom. “Can I be excused from that?”

“On what grounds?”

“On the grounds of BOOOOOOOOOOOOO.” Dropping her arm from the air, Hexcellent cupped both hands around her mouth as she started to jeer, adding a bit of volume to her already impressive voice.

Galvanize, to his credit, stood patiently and waited until her booing slowly waned and faded out altogether. Only after silence had once again reasserted itself did he speak, and it was with the same calm voice he’d asked the initial question. “Was that you booing me, or an impression of what you think the crowd will do to us?”

“Either or. Pretty much take your pick,” Hexcellent replied.

“Despite what you might think, there is an abundance of Supers out there who want to use their abilities in less. . . martial capacities.” Galvanize’s eyes flitted to Owen, who kept his own face neutral. What Heroes did wasn’t always pretty, and sometimes it was downright horrifying; there was no pussyfooting around that. It was the unfortunate truth that, bad as what they sometimes had to do was, it was necessary.

“The chance at fame and money doesn’t hurt either,” Bubble Bubble added. “I’m sure we’ll get a fair amount of people who actually want to talk with us.”

“Thank you, Bubble Bubble,” Galvanize said.

“Of course, Hex is right too; we’re bound to get a few assholes, be they there for us or for Titan.” Bubble Bubble patted her massive teammate gently on the arm, not even making his elbow wobble.

“It’s a Q&A at a charity event. Anyone who can’t conduct themselves appropriately will be removed from the pavilion,” Galvanize told them. “Some of the burlier players from the SAA are also volunteering their time as security.”

“Guess we better hope they’re tougher than anyone who starts shit.” Zone made his way around the SUV more slowly than any of the others, giving his joints as much of a break as possible.

“I think things will be fine,” Owen said, breaking into the conversation at last. “It’s only a half-hour panel. We’ll take a few questions, snap a few photos, and maybe at the end a couple of Supers will leave here ready to apply to be PEERS. Galvanize is right. This is a charity event. No one is going to make a scene.” Owen wasn’t entirely sure he believed that; there were those who still had extreme opinions about the Hero known as Titan. Either way, he was sure his team would be fine, though. If security couldn’t handle a problem, then Titan would.

“Anyway, that’s not until this afternoon,” Galvanize reminded them. “For the morning, we’ve still all got our own work to do, which means we should get moving. Remember: on time is ten minutes late.”

This phrase was met with muttered grumblings from the rest of his team, Owen included, as they spread out and left the parking lot. The others were no doubt going to work booths for Mordent again, toiling their days away until the inevitable panel. Owen, however, was off to something slightly different.

When signing up for his activities all those weeks ago, one particular option had caught his eye. A booth had been set aside for recruiters, sometimes ones that were Heroes, to talk with potential applicants about Sizemore Tech’s Hero Certification Program, and try to convince those with the right skills to try and apply. It was something he’d done many years before and in truth would have enjoyed doing again. Just jumping in didn’t seem right, given how his reputation had changed, though. Instead, he’d reached out to the booth’s organizer and set up a meeting. If it went well, he might pitch in. If not. . . well, Owen hadn’t ever really expected to be able to go back into that world anyway.

Despite the early hour, there were already at least a half-dozen high school kids clustered around the front of the tent. They whispered as he passed by, a sound Owen was quickly growing accustomed to, but didn’t seem terribly shocked to see him walking around. By now, word had doubtlessly spread that Titan was on the premises. Moving past them, he walked all the way around to the back, where a white tent was set up. Later in the day, this would be the air-conditioned break area for the recruiters to lounge in between talking to prospective students. Currently, however, there was only a single occupant inside as Owen pulled back the flap.

“Titan, good to see you back in a mask.” The man who was standing there was tall, nearly comparable to Owen himself, with wide shoulders and muscular arms. This was especially impressive since a head of white hair and noticeable wrinkles betrayed his advanced age. With one large step he closed the gap between them and took Owen’s hand in a firm shake.

“Dean Jackson, it’s always a pleasure.” Owen shook the hand right back, then took a seat on a couch clearly made for the outdoors and settled in for his meeting with the dean of Sizemore Tech’s Hero Certification Program.

87.

“So. . . you’re back in.”

Dean Jackson sat across from Owen with the same careful, measured expression he’d worn back before the name Titan was more than some boring old piece of Greek mythology. Of course, that had been decades ago, when Dean Jackson still had his dark hair and Owen was comparatively scrawny. Idly, Owen found himself wondering how many years the old warhorse had left in him. It was hard to imagine anyone running Sizemore Tech aside from Herbert Jackson. It always seemed like he’d been there since the first brick was laid and would continue running it until it was rubble.

“I’m back in,” Owen confirmed. “For a while now. Working as a Hero Liaison for a team of PEERS.”

Dean Jackson nodded, the wrinkles around his forehead bunching together as a thoughtful expression found its way to his face. “A fine job, working with good people. I’ve always felt the PEERS get shortchanged; they do as much as good as we do, and without having to get blood on their hands.”

“I can’t say I always agreed, but being with this team has made me realize how vital they are.” Owen was a bit surprised to hear Dean Jackson be so positive about PEERS. He could scarcely remember the man saying anything kind about anyone, save for the mightiest of Heroes that had come before. Then again, it had been a long time since they last talked. Perhaps time had tempered his perspective just as it had Owen’s.

“To be frank, I was a little surprised to hear from you.” Now that the basic pleasantries were over, Dean Jackson was clearly moving things to the heart of the matter. He was a busy man with a lot on his mind, and as such he rarely bothered to beat around any bushes. It was one of the qualities Owen admired most in his former dean. “Getting back into the Hero world is one thing, and make no mistake, I’m sleeping sounder knowing that you’re out there, but doing recruiting work is a bit stickier.”

“The name Titan tends to earn some polarizing reactions,” Owen agreed. “And I understand completely if you don’t want me coming around the Sizemore booth. I just wanted to offer, in case it was something you decided would be beneficial. You know I love my alma mater.”

“Yet you sent your sons to Lander,” Dean Jackson replied.

Owen wasn’t exactly shocked that an HCP dean would be in the know about that, though he was taken slightly aback. Before he had a chance to defend himself, Dean Jackson continued, this time with what Owen thought might be a slight chuckle in his tone.

“Relax, I understand why it was the best fit considering their. . . situation. My ego has long ago made peace with the fact that Dean Blaine is far more capable at neutralizing a Super than I am. Were they my students and things went awry, there’s no certainty that I could stop them without making it permanent.”

“Thankfully, so far things have gone fine.” Owen wasn’t entirely sure how much Dean Jackson knew, so it seemed prudent to keep things as vague as possible.

“Better than fine; that class they’re in seems to be quite the strong one, yet they’re hanging in. It’s bad enough that all anyone can talk about for this year’s upcoming Intramurals is the golden girl from Lander and unstoppable boy from West. Damn thing is still months away and it’s like we other three schools are just already assumed to have lost. If I have to put up with another year of it, I might end up popping the other deans in their mouths.”