Read Heroes Lost and Found Online

Authors: Sheryl Nantus

Heroes Lost and Found (6 page)

BOOK: Heroes Lost and Found
3.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“Me too,” Harris chirped. “Told that we’d love to be beaten up by you.” He sniggered. “Told them I wasn’t into that sort of thing.”

Kit nodded, the familiar smile settling on his scarred face. “The good old days. When heroes were heroes and villains villains.” He nodded towards Harris. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Harris brushed it off. I suspected this was an old routine they’d worked to perfection.

The little girl inside me squealed with delight at having Kit Masters here, sitting and drinking a beer with me.

The adult woman wondered what the hell I had just gotten myself into.

“So, I guess your first question is how am I still alive?” Kit leaned forward, pushing away the longer hair at the back of his neck. “Take a look.”

The red, ridged skin around the plug looked like a blasted wasteland, small craters digging into the burnt and charred area. The burn spread up and over the left side, matching the rest of his injuries.

“Atlanta.” He sat back in his chair and took a deep swig of beer.

I waited.

“I’m sure you know by now that Dykovski’s a bastard, a bully, a thug who got off bashing supers. I complained, did the paperwork, everything they asked, and they still kept me matched up with the jerk.” He tilted the bottle into the light, judging the amount of liquid left. “Eventually I just stopped asking.”

Harris clicked the lip of his bottle against his bottom teeth. “Even Alphas got screwed over.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I sat there day after day and let him rant and rave, use me as a punching bag when he needed to get off on beating someone, and waited. And waited. Until the alarms went off and we were told to get our asses to Atlanta.” He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “You know what was waiting for us. But instead of getting worried or scared, Dykovski got all excited, said he was going to finally see what I was made of, what we were made of. He was chomping at the bit like it was something he’d been waiting for.”

I stayed silent. The Guardians had known about the aliens, known what they trained us for.

What they hadn’t known was how badly we’d get our asses kicked.

“So we went into the city without any idea of what we were going up against. And all hell broke loose ’cause the aliens, they weren’t taking the falls. They weren’t going down like any of the other games we’d played.” He closed his eyes and let out a low hiss of pain. “Screaming over the links, Guardians and supers dying and not knowing why or how, except that everything we knew was a lie and now it was killing us.” The bottle went to his mouth again. “But I don’t need to tell you that. You were there. You smelled the blood, you saw the deaths.”

I closed my eyes, thinking of New York City and of Mike.

The yelling, the screaming, the dying, the people running for their lives and for the first time ever not being able to count on the heroes to save them.

Because, well…we weren’t.

“Went up against the bastard, unleashed all I had. Double fire blast from both hands, didn’t hold back a bit. Son of a bitch shrugged it off and then returned fire, some sort of energy blast like that chick, what’s her name, Evernight, used to have.”

The beer was getting warm in my hand. I rolled the bottle between my palms, soaking in the moisture.

“Got slammed into a building, hard—right at the foundation. Whole damned thing was coming down around me, walls, floors, office furniture crashing over my head. Fire started up ’round me, sparking wires everywhere.” His fingers twitched. “Couldn’t move, beam trapped my legs. Couldn’t see out of one eye, nothing but blood running down my face, and I couldn’t breathe ’cause my face was on fire, there was something lying against it and I couldn’t do anything but burn.” The empty bottle landed on the coffee table, digging into a well-worn circle. “Called out for help, couldn’t get anything over the link with everyone screaming and yelling. I turned to one side, saw a hole leading out into the street, got me a front-seat view of the insanity.”

Harris hiccupped. He’d never mentioned where he’d lost his Guardian or what he’d seen on that day.

“Saw Dykovski standing nearby with a fat, smug smile. He could have called over the rescue trucks, could have called another super over to help dig me out. Instead he tapped in the code on his fucking bracelet and walked away. Bastard just walked away and left me to die.”

I realized I’d been holding my breath. The back of my head throbbed as I forced fresh air into my lungs.

“I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was a dud, maybe it went off half-cocked because I was in the middle of an inferno and the heat screwed with the explosive, maybe my power fucked something up. There was a noise and a flash and nothing happened.” He grinned, a wide smile sending a shiver up my spine. “I fucking survived. I was alive.”

Harris mumbled something under his breath that sounded strangely like a prayer.

“Another building fell next to me, everything rocked and shifted and I could move again, pried my legs free with part of a chair. Dug myself out and ran. Knew I wasn’t going to win that battle, and with the Agency thinking I was dead, well…” Kit spread his hands wide. “Brand-new world, baby. No plug, no hassle.”

I fought back the urge to ask where the hell he had been when I’d asked for help in Toronto, what he had been doing when we fought that final battle, if he’d been watching television when Maybelline Andrews sacrificed herself to save us all. Instead I studied the level of beer in my own bottle.

“But you still have the plug,” I said. “It’s still there.”

He shrugged. “I don’t worry about it. Dykovski thinks I’m dead and gone, and no one else is gonna care about it.”

I looked from one man to the other. “So what did you call me here for? Not that I don’t mind finding out you’re alive, Mr. Masters.”

“Kit.” He waved me off.

“Kit, then.” I licked my lips, trying to find the right words. “I’m glad you’re alive and survived, but why am I here?”

“You’re looking for Dykovski. I’m looking for Dykovski.” Kit beamed. “Sort of got the same goal, so I figured we’d compare notes.”

I took a sip of beer. “I’m looking for this Controller dude. What makes you think it’s the same guy?”

“I saw the fights in Vegas. I’m no fool, I know Dykovski’s behind it and what he wants to do.” Kit reached up and touched a raw area on his cheek. “Bastard rambled on all the time about what his great plans were. When I saw Lamarr sparring with you on Fremont and the shit that went down at Cherries ’n’ Lemons, I knew he was behind it. His wet dream about owning supers like property, taking us further into slavery. Thought the Agency was too nice to us, wanted to go full-out nasty on our asses.”

“What did Dykovski say to you?” I chose each word with care, like picking out good apples at an orchard. “What leads you to believe he’s behind this?”

Chapter Four

Kit cleared his throat before lurching from the recliner and getting to his feet. He put his hands behind his back and his feet apart in a parade-rest position, eyes down.

I winced, remembering my training days.

He lowered his voice to a dull rumble. “You supers are nothing but a fucking plague on the earth. I’d like nothing better than to pull all your plugs, you inferior genetic specimens. But since I have to work with you fucktards, I’ll make the best of it until the time comes.” Kit paused to look over at me, watching my response.

I shifted my weight. I knew there’d been anti-super feelings here and there, both inside and outside the Agency. But it hurt like hell to hear what a Guardian supposedly said about us.

Kit’s tone returned to his parody. “I’ll pull all your fucking plugs, except for the cute girls who I’ll screw into next Tuesday and the ones I decide are worthy enough to breed. And we’ll take over this useless cesspool of a country and create our own perfect society, where mutants like you will know your place and like it. No more parading around in tight spandex outfits and getting lobster dinners. You’ll work for your food and like it. And if not, we’ll pull your fucking plugs and move on to the next freak.”

Harris interrupted. “A bit of a dickhead, in other words.”

“Quite,” I croaked. “So Dykovski’s an asshole. Nothing new. But what makes you think he’s behind the rogue supers my team just dealt with?” I saw Harris’s lips twitch at the “my team” comment.

Kit turned his single good eye on me. “You’re not stupid. You wouldn’t have beaten Lamarr if you were. He was a tough little shit and the world’s better for him leaving it.” He sat down again. “Harris, ’nother beer. Please.”

“Sure.” Harris glanced over. “Refill?”

I was dying for about another dozen, given the topic of conversation, but I had to stay on my toes. “No, I’m okay. Thanks.” I took another sip of the rapidly warming liquid. Tasted like typical weak-ass American beer. Thank goodness. Right now I needed to stay sharp, stay frosty. Something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know what. I felt like I was in one of those optical-illusion rooms where everything was just that much too short or too long.

“Dykovski’s been chatting up the online boards searching for more fools to follow him.” Kit looked at Harris who nodded his agreement. “Some idiots out there figure he’ll do right by them. Only a few, but it only takes a couple to ruin it for everyone, right?”

I checked the alcohol content, unsure if I’d really gotten weak-ass American beer after all.

“What? Online?” I stuttered through the words, hoping Hunter was screaming for Jessie and his mad computer skills to help us understand this.

“Lamarr wasn’t the exception to the rule. He’s not the only bad egg out there,” Harris interjected, seeing my confusion. He handed another bottle to Kit. “Let me lay this out for you. You got to go back to the beginning, when this all went haywire. After Atlanta, after New York City, after that first day. Supers without Guardians, Guardians without supers and all sorts of confusion.” His voice cracked.

Harris paused and cleared his throat before continuing. “You’re hanging off a building trying to call people to Toronto to form a new team, and there’s a lot of fear all over the links, a lot of asking questions and no one offering any answers. No one’s calling the shots, and for a lot of us that was plain old scary. We got so indoctrinated in asking what to do, when to piss and when to crap, and now we’re on our own. What do we do?” He shook his head. “We were told it’d never change, it’d never be any other way. Suddenly it is another way, a whole new way. A scary way.” He caught my eye for a second before turning away. “I ran to Canada, looking for sanctuary. Found you, found the others.”

Kit continued. “A few supers found each other after the fights, tried to hook up with others without using the link. Didn’t trust it, why should they? Agency’s always listening.” He took a sip of beer. “So they go find one of those cyber cafés, go to a library and get online, find a chat room, start poking around, asking questions only supers could answer. Start meeting with each other to see what the truth is, who’s alive and who’s dead and what’s going on. Kinda like a support group.”

I pressed my lips together, holding back a scream of frustration. “Would have been nice to have someone tell me about this. Especially when I’m screaming for help with my ass swinging in the wind.”

“No one trusted anything or anyone then, Jo—not at first glance,” Harris dove in, playing peacemaker. “Heck, even Peter sent a cat into your apartment to see if you were legit before coming in from the cold. Can’t blame a lot of them for holding back, not wanting to get involved with the real thing, the real fighting when we’d all been used to playing at it. And it was natural for us or them or whoever, wanting to get in touch with old friends to try and make a new life away from being a super.” He put his hand over the top of his bottle and made a popping sound. “I know there’s not a lot of us left, but it’s sort of like family. Even the relatives you don’t want to invite to Sunday dinner, you still like to talk to about stuff. The good old days, even if they sucked supremely.”

“Okay.” I imagined Jessie frantically banging on his keyboard, trying to find said chat rooms. I couldn’t blame him for missing it in his many sweeps for information on supers—if child molesters and their ilk could ply their disgusting trade online, it wasn’t impossible for supers to stay underground in a digital world.

Kit smacked his lips. “Started off as nothing more than idle chat, you know—who’s still alive, who’s where and who wants to find whom.” He looked down. “A lot of heartbreak those first few days. A lot of names disappeared off the list as we figured out what happened.”

I chewed on the bottleneck to keep my mind on business. The brown glass clinked against my bottom teeth, the sharp pain forcing me to stay focused.

Kit took another deep swallow and fell silent, his one good eye focused on the floor.

Harris picked up the cue and ran with it, almost bursting at the seams as he rambled. “Anyway, a few days after the big fight at Toronto, this Controller dude comes online, bragging that he’s got Agency equipment for the right supers who want to sign up with him. Join his team and see the world, get the good life. No one pays much attention to him, you know? Just a babbling old fool who’s tripped into the wrong room. Not to mention no one believes he’s got access to anything. Rumors start about whether he’s a super or an Agency plant, trying to entice us back down the rabbit hole. A few of the tough old boys get the info and go offline to find out, see if he’s serious about offering a new deal or see if he’s Agency trying to pull us back under control. They don’t come back. People stop talking about him. If they’re talking about teams, they’re talking about the Protectors, you guys being out in the open and all. No Guardians other than Hunter, and everyone agrees he’s pretty cool.”

BOOK: Heroes Lost and Found
3.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Blood of the White Witch by Weatherford, Lacey
A Deeper Love Inside by Sister Souljah
This Starry Deep by Adam P. Knave
Zombie Fever: Origins by Hodges, B.M.
Boss Me by Lacey Black
Dark Terrors 3 by David Sutton Stephen Jones
The Acid House by Irvine Welsh
Foxfire by Carol Ann Erhardt
Strike by Jennifer Ryder
Lost In Kakadu by Talbot, Kendall