Corpies (Super Powereds Spinoff Book 1) (48 page)

“No, you’re right. That’s what I came back for.” Owen looked down at his hands, wide and strong, and thought back to how many times he’d used them to take another person’s life. People that could have, would have, killed other Heroes who didn’t have his gifts. Being able to use his power to save without bloodshed, it had been wonderful. A breath of fresh air, a living vacation. But Owen hadn’t come back to take a vacation. He’d come back to do penance, to pay for his time wasted hiding from the world.

“Make some inquiries, I guess. Look around. Like you said, we’re a long way off from having to actually take any real steps forward.”

“I’ll be completely discreet,” Lenny assured him. “And no promises will be made until you’re ready. Take your time, enjoy being with those kids. You do deserve to be happy sometimes, you know.”

Owen nodded, not sure if he really believed the words but appreciating them anyway. “Thanks, Lenny. How about another beer?”

92.

               Owen could hear the familiar beeping of electronic battle before he stepped through the front door of the Mordent penthouse. Hexcellent, no doubt, playing her games and cursing at the screen. Bubble Bubble would probably be nearby, reading a magazine or surfing the internet. Zone would be in the gym, either exercising or icing his knees. And Galvanize, the team leader, would probably be off somewhere doing all the work that kept things running smooth. It had snuck up on him, how much he’d gotten to know and care about these people, barely older than his own children, in their time together. It had never really struck him that there might be an end in sight; now that it had, he entered the room with a heart that was just a touch heavier than normal.

To his surprise, it was not only Hexcellent smashing on the control as her digital avatar battled a giant woman with a fearsome axe. Bubble Bubble was sitting next to her, controlling said axe-wielder, focusing so hard on the fight that she’d forgotten to wear her usual mask of composure. Nearby, Galvanize sat on the couch, eating some of the butter-and-salt-free popcorn that they kept on hand. Zone was in the corner, doing some light curls as he watched the scene unfold.

“Must be one hell of a game,” Owen said, taking in the scene before him.

“Round-robin tournament,” Hexcellent spat out, physically jerking her whole body as she angled her ninja with a giant spear around the screen, leaping down to score a hit on Bubble Bubble that took off nearly a quarter of her health.

“Since we had a long day today, and have to do the tug-of-war tomorrow, it seemed like a good idea for us all to unwind,” Galvanize said, shrugging as if he’d been bullied along into agreeing.

“Hexcellent and I are in the lead,” Zone boasted. “So far we’ve done racing games and fighting games.”

“Those reflexes of yours aren’t going to mean shit once we get to the puzzle games,” Hexcellent said, slamming her fists into the buttons so hard Owen genuinely feared for the plastic device’s safety. “You can still jump in, if you want. Obviously you can’t win, but I’ve seen you play. I think we all know that was never going to happen in the first place.”

“Cruel, but accurate,” Owen admitted. Part of him wanted to retire to his room, to think about what Lenny had said and what the future held. But that was just dwelling, and if the bar in Colorado had proved nothing else, it was that once Owen started dwelling, it took a hell of a lot to shake him out of it. His time was better spent around the people he enjoyed. “Let me grab a shower first, then I’ll come out here and snatch last place away from whoever currently has the title.”

“That would be Galvanize,” Bubble Bubble supplied helpfully.

“My parents thought video games would rot the mind,” Galvanize said, mounting a weak defense to his apparent lack of digital skills.

“Who the hell wants an unrotted mind?” Hexcellent asked as she made her ninja throw the spear, which slammed just below the axe-wielding woman’s sternum and took away the remainder of her hit points. “Booyah! Suck my metaphorical dick.”

“There are days I wonder about the metaphorical part,” Bubble Bubble muttered. “Galvanize, you’re up. Hurry before Titan finishes his shower so fewer of us will see your shame.”

As Galvanize headed for her seat on the couch, Owen made his way down the hall toward his room. Happy as it made him, it was strange to see them all together like this. He was so sure they’d be off doing their own thing when he got back; how could he have been so wrong? It was just as Owen’s hand closed around the doorknob of his room that the answer struck him.

Owen had been predicting their actions based on how they used to be. Between waves of criminals under collapsing bridges, watching their liaison take on a whole team of Heroes, Bubble Bubble’s own scandal, and occasionally sneaking beers, they’d actually started to come together. Not only as a team, but as a unit of people who liked one another. It was strangely heartwarming to realize he’d gotten to bear witness to such an event and maybe, in his own small ways, helped contribute to it.

His fingers were just reaching under his mask, preparing to peel it away, when a familiar voice appeared in his right ear. “Titan, this is Dispatch. Are you on-comm?”

“Titan responding; what’s going on, Dispatch?” He lowered his hands from the mask, letting it rest in place. Depending on Dispatch’s next words, he might need to go right back out into the world, and still being in costume would save him several precious seconds. They wouldn’t mean much to him, but for anyone who needed help, those seconds might be a literal lifesaver.

“Modus Operandi has requested a bulletin go out to all Heroes in the Brewster area. Today, several covert attacks were carried out on the communications network in and around all of Brewster. While they did not interrupt phone and internet services, they did cripple them. The restraint was estimated to be intentional. It is expected that one more set of attacks will bring down the entire communication structure, though our own Hero-issue equipment would not be affected, thanks to the alternate systems used.”

“Got it. Someone sawed through most of the tree that is Brewster’s communications network, so that they can bring the whole thing down with one good blow when they need to. Add a little mayhem, and with no one able to talk to one another it’s a recipe for chaos. Damn, that is crafty,” Owen admitted. “So what’s the plan for fixing it? Since Modus Operandi noticed the attacks, I’m guessing they’ve got a way to patch things back up. Do they need me to lift anything?”

“I will check, though it is doubtful.” Dispatch either had no sense of humor or willfully plowed through jokes, which seemed like the same thing after long enough working with her. “Modus Operandi asked me to pass on this bulletin in order to request that no Hero take any action to repair the damage. They feel at this point showing our awareness would make the attackers wary, perhaps changing their plans. To quote: ‘Next time we might not catch their ambush ahead of time.’ Therefore, all Heroes are placed on alert to a potential situation in the next week and asked to keep their earpieces in at all times.”

“I’ll do that,” Owen said, beginning once more to pull his mask away. “And Dispatch, would you be so kind as to pass a message to Jeremiah of Modus Operandi back for me?”

“Certainly, Titan. What is your message?”

“Tell him I understand the tactical need for taking this kind of risk, and I get where they’re coming from with wanting to capitalize on advanced knowledge.” Owen flung his mask onto his bed, where it lay there, staring up at him.

“All the same, I’m not a fan of using a whole fucking city for bait. Tell Jeremiah that he’d better be ready for whatever comes, because if this goes sideways, I’m holding him personally responsible.”

“Your message will be passed on,” Dispatch replied. “Though it may be a while before he hears it. There are currently twenty other similarly worded messages ahead of yours in his queue.”

Owen snickered, and considered the possibility that Dispatch might just have a sense of humor in there after all.

93.

Despite Jeremiah’s cryptic warning, the third day of the charity event started off just like all the others. True, Owen might have been a bit more on guard as he wandered about the booths doing some meet-and-greets, signings, and shaking hands. And he might have readied himself just a touch too quickly every time a loud noise met his ears, as if he expected chaos to break out at any moment. As the day wore on, however, Owen gradually let his nerves settle, reminding himself that technically trouble was always around the potential bend. All stressing over it would do was wear him down for when he was actually needed.

By the time the day’s main event rolled around, Owen had managed to completely settle, a feeling that lasted only until he arrived at the stadium. It was a run-down relic of times long past, back when Brewster was a small city with little more than a farm league in the realm of professional sports. Across town there was a new, high-tech stadium where actual events were hosted, yet the original field was still here on the fairgrounds, steadfastly refusing to crumble or give way in spite of its age and wear. Owen felt a kinship to the battered building as soon as he set foot on the green, well cared-for turf.

Already several of the teams, the vast majority of them players from the SAA, were out warming up for the tug-of-war. Some were having matches against teammates, others were tossing a ball around, and a few were just slowly curling weights while making conversation. It was a festive atmosphere; everyone seemed in high spirits about the impending event.

For a moment, Owen was taken aback by the jovial ambiance. Years of Hero work had conditioned him to equate using his powers in public with danger, towards others and occasionally himself. But that wasn’t the case today. No one was going to get hurt, unless they turned an ankle or something. Hell, it didn’t even matter who won. Aside from bragging rights, the only real prize today was selling the tickets and raising money for charity. Which, if the crowd lined up outside was any indication, they’d already accomplished.

Scanning the field, Owen finally saw his own team, grouped up near Galvanize as he no doubt drilled them on proper rope-pulling techniques. Owen was halfway to them when a familiar voice flagged him down.

“Titan! Hey, wait up.”

From across the field, Kaiju jogged over. Though the young man was still in his human form, Owen had seen how quickly that could change. He glanced over to where Kaiju was coming from, noting that Juiced and Deadlift were both chalking their hands and practicing grips. This competition might be more interesting than he’d expected; Deadlift’s power alone was bound to have some unexpected effects.

“Afternoon, Kaiju,” Owen said as the Hero finally came to a stop several feet away. Around them, a few people looked over, noticing for the first time that Titan had arrived.

“Afternoon yourself,” Kaiju replied. “I’d heard people saying you were going to be part of this, but I didn’t really believe it. Are you actually going to come tug a rope around with us low-end schmucks?”

While the assessment might have been harsh, it was true that there were very few other Heroes on the field, and of those that were present, Owen recognized almost none. These sorts of events usually weren’t appealing to Heroes from a PR perspective. If you were popular and won, pretty much nothing changed, but if you were popular and lost, people might think less of you. It was a poor bet for most Heroes to make, the obvious exception being ones that needed exposure and had little image to lose, such as a disgraced team that had barely held on to their certifications, for example.

“What can I say, I heard you all were going to be here and couldn’t pass up that challenge. Who knows when I’ll get another opportunity to actually test myself against that kind of power,” Owen replied.

Kaiju smiled, a small, guarded one that clearly said he knew Owen was just being polite, but it was still a smile all the same. “Whatever you say, big man. Well, it doesn’t change much for us; we were already expected to lose early. This is just one more check in the column against us.”

Owen let out a snort that was so loud it startled a nearby man doing push-ups. “Who the hell would expect you three to lose? You’re a team of strongmen—and women—plus Deadlift’s ability is bound to make things interesting.”

“Sure, we’ve got power, but what we don’t have are alternates,” Kaiju said. “Every match is teams of three, and while the others have people to change out so they can rest, we’re going to have to do each one by ourselves. Since we’re going against other strongmen, it’s bound to get tiring.”

“Maybe so, but I’ve seen you three fight. Something tells me you’re not going to let a little thing like fatigue slow you down.” Owen started to say more, but a loud female voice echoed through the ancient stadium, crackling across the speakers with a healthy amount of feedback.

“Attention: all competitors for the tug-of-war please report to your starting areas. The gates will be opened to spectators in five minutes. Again, please report to your starting areas; guests will begin arriving in five minutes.”

“Did she sound familiar to you?” Owen asked.

Kaiju shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Then again, over all that static, I doubt I’d even recognize Juiced’s voice, and she is not shy about filling the base with it when someone eats her waffles.”