Super Powereds: Year 3 (97 page)

                Nick nodded, then walked over to the duffel bag and unzipped it. He reached in tenderly, wary of slicing himself on one of the sharp objects contained within. “It seems that Nathaniel Evers is letting us know that the game has resumed.” He rooted through the bag carefully, searching for a specific tool. It was important to start these things off with the right tone. Made things go much more quickly.

                “A warning shot? That’s unlike any of the Evers,” Eliza said.

                “No, not a warning shot. A threat,” Nick corrected. “He’s making it clear that he intends to go after my friends this time, not simply limit our battle to him and me.”

                “You already knew that,” Eliza said. “That’s why you’ve had me and Jerome on watchdog duty since we got back.”

                “What I knew is irrelevant. What matters here is what Nathaniel was trying to communicate. In this case, he wants our resources spread thin. Protecting me was one thing, but if I have to worry about him coming after any of my associates at any given time, then we’ll be running around futilely, trying to cover more than we could possibly hope to.” Nick’s hand closed around the instrument he’d been looking for, and a half-smile crossed his face.

                “This is too much,” Jerome said. He looked at the three men who seemed increasingly worried the longer they watched Nick rustle through the duffel bag. “Infighting between the families is one thing, but Nathaniel’s actions could bring down the full weight of the HCP, and all the Heroes who’ve come from it, crashing down on his people. The Evers family would never sign off on something like that.”

                “Certainly not,” Nick agreed. He picked himself up from the ground and walked over to their hostages, a single item in his hand. “Which means that either Nathaniel never meant to truly harm them and knew we would intercept such inept pawns, or he has begun to take action without running it up the proper chain of command. Knowing Nathaniel, the latter seems infinitely more likely.”

                Nick leaned over and set the item he’d taken on the ground. It was a generic chocolate bar, picked up hours earlier from a gas station outside of town. The three men looked at it, then him, then back at the bar again.

                “Here’s the deal, gentlemen. One of you, and only one, is going to get an all-expense-paid trip to Vegas, where you will be handled by the finest thugs and forced to sleep in the most cramped of compartments. But, if you do as you’re told and play ball, you may find accommodations improving as things progress. We’re a hungry organization, and there’s always room for those who can follow orders and complete tasks. That offer is only good for one of you, however. The other two will remain here, and are going to tell me just so very many of the things I want to know. Tidbits of information you may not even have realized you could conjure will be plumbed from the depths of your minds.”

                Eliza and Jerome went around and took hold of the bonds keeping the three men in place. With a few quick tugs, the ropes would give way in seconds.

                “Of course, seeing as we’re big on go-getters, and the job you’re getting won’t be an easy one, there’s a little admittance test to pass. First of you to grab this chocolate bar, unwrap it, and take a bite is our winner. All manner of violence is both allowed and encouraged. Anyone who tries to chomp through the wrapper, or does something as dumb as go after one of us, is disqualified, and will have the honor of dealing with me when I’m in a less pleasant mood.”

                Nick took a few steps back, then gave the nod to Jerome and Eliza. “All right, you fucking animals, let’s see which of you can claw your way out of this pit.”

180.

                “I’m sorry, but so far, we haven’t found anything,” Mr. Transport said.

                Sean Pendleton nodded, keeping himself calm. It was a skill he hadn’t always had. Back in his younger years, he’d been brash, with something of a temper, though never anything that compared to Victor’s. It was only training, and his experience on the job, that had taught him to stay calm no matter what he was dealing with. So he was calm as he took the news. He calmly rose from the table where Mr. Numbers, Mr. Transport, and Dean Blaine were still sitting, and he calmly lifted his chair up and smashed it against the wall into many calm pieces.

                “Sean!”

                “I’m fine,” he said, dropping the splintered remains onto the concrete floor. “I’ll clean it up later.” Sean stepped over the mess he’d made and grabbed another chair, bringing it back to the table.

                The upside to holding their meetings in the abandoned Hero bunker was that they didn’t have to worry about whatever prying ears and eyes might be in Lander, and they could make a mess as needed. The downside was that they had to clean up those messes themselves, which had left Sean sorely missing the janitorial staff, especially when he kept getting the same bad news over and over.

                “I understand you’re frustrated, but you knew this wouldn’t be a simple task,” Dean Blaine replied. “You searched for years on your own and came up with nothing; Charles Adair has only had more time to bury leads since then. If Shelby is out there, she’s been put in a place specifically designed to foil even those of us with resources and training.”

                “Normally, this is exactly where we would be able to shine,” Mr. Numbers said. “Unfortunately, given Charles Adair’s deep involvement with our organization, it would be folly to assume that we can trust any of the others. Even if he doesn’t have them in his pocket, his wealth and power would make it tantalizing to sell us out to him. Pity, Mrs. Tracking would be able to handle the whole ordeal in no time.”

                “Don’t count on it,” Sean said. “I went to every Super with location abilities I could find, none of them turned up a thing. Maybe he’s got someone with neutralization powers at her side, or some other ability that masks her, but Shelby is not that easy to find.”

                “Perhaps you’re right,” Mr. Numbers said. In truth, he’d already suspected such a possibility; it was only his faith in his team member’s capabilities that had prompted a belief she might succeed.

                “All we know for sure is that, from each angle we come at, Shelby Adair turns up as dead,” Mr. Transport told them. “We’re using every channel we can without alerting someone that we’re looking, and none have turned up even a single scrap of information. Outside of Alice’s dream visitor, there has been no corroboration that Shelby Adair is alive.”

                “Right now, we have a single unconfirmed outlier claiming a different situation than countless other trusted resources,” Mr. Numbers said. “I don’t wish to be insensitive, but I presume you both know what the logical conclusion to draw in such circumstances is.”

                Sean looked up from the table, his long-practiced calm quickly melting away. For a moment, his body seemed to shimmer and turn see-through as his emotions attempted to overwhelm his control of his power. That ended with a single glance from Dean Blaine, though it did nothing to stop the building storm of Sean’s wrath.

                “Don’t you say it. Don’t you dare say what you’re thinking. After all these years, I 
finally
 get a clue to finding my sister, and you want me to write it off? Why? Because we don’t know if we can trust the person who gave it to us?” Sean lifted himself from table, this time knocking the chair back from the force of his legs. “Newsflash, Numbers, we’re having a secret meeting in an underground bunker because we have no 
fucking idea
 who we can trust! We’re hiding from friends, fellow professors, even family in my case. All because no one is trustworthy. Well guess what, this Abridail guy might be mysterious and unknown, but he sure as shit seems to believe what he’s selling. You heard Esme when she told us about Alice’s dream. I’m not ignoring what he’s offering just because your ‘sources’ seem to disagree.”

                Mr. Numbers stood as well, meeting Sean’s aggression with a fierce voice of his own. “I was merely pointing out the logical explanation, so that we could focus on—”

                “Enough.” Dean Blaine didn’t stand up, or raise his voice. He didn’t even look at them when he talked. He simply spoke with the expectation that he would be listened to; that others would obey. Shockingly, that is precisely what happened, as both Sean and Mr. Numbers quieted down and stared at him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Zero might have been a greater warrior than Blaine, but years of training and dealing with Supers had made Blaine the far superior leader.

                “Mr. Numbers is right; we can’t afford to spin our wheels like this forever. With only one dream-walker’s word to go on, it’s not a productive use of our time. Not with Globe still at large, and a possible mole in our school. Assuming Shelby is alive, Charles has clearly covered every route we might use to find her, which makes looking around like this pointless.”

                “But—”

                Dean Blaine held up a hand, halting Sean’s objection before momentum could build. “That said, Sean is also right. We can’t afford to ignore the possibility that Shelby really is still out there just because Abridail isn’t someone we’ve dealt with. Even aside from the moral aspect, I can’t be the only one who finds the timeframe of all of this too coincidental. I don’t see the thread connecting them yet, but all that madness happening around the same time, and both with events centering on Charles and Phil . . . no, this is worth pursuing. Demands pursuing. But we’re not going to get anywhere by groping about blindly.”

                “What do you suggest?” Mr. Transport asked.

                “We’re going after the only solid lead we have: we need to find Abridail,” Dean Blaine declared.

                “How? It’s obviously a fake name, and without a name or picture, there’s no locator than can run someone down,” Mr. Numbers pointed out.

                “Obviously, we won’t be able to find him, since he took such pains to not be found. However, we do have the capability of drawing him out,” Dean Blaine reminded them. “He has been involved in the entry of two students’ dreams thus far: Alice and Vince. These occurred only when their mental defenses were shut down by Rich Weaver’s unique ability. Thus, it seems if we want to learn more from, or about, Abridail, the best option is to have Rich put them under again. Lucky for us, I happen to be the one in charge of the student’s curriculum. And I think a supplemental lesson may just be in order.”

181.

                 “. . . and I forgot to check if the toaster was plugged in. After that, I had to be in a specialized facility that could contain me—I was a bit out of control at the time—and while I was there, the people found me. That pretty much catches us up; at least on the stuff I’m allowed to talk about.” Vince dumped a few more pink, fake sugar packets into his coffee, trying to mask the subpar flavor. He didn’t entirely know why Eliza insisted on having their meetings here; there were certainly nicer coffee spots around town. Nonetheless, it was nice to talk with her, to see what had happened after they . . . parted. It was good for him, as well. No longer the girl in his memories, Eliza was becoming real to Vince again, and that was aiding his efforts to move on.

                “You know, part of me wants to say how ridiculously unbelievable that all is, but knowing you, I actually don’t have much trouble believing it,” Eliza replied. “You’ve always seemed to live the most unpredictable life.”

                “Back at you,” Vince said, smiling over his steaming mug. She never showed it, but those smiles still made her stomach flutter, just a touch, when she saw them. Perhaps it was because she’d thought she would never see them again. Or perhaps it was because the first one was wedged so firmly in her mind.

*             *             *

                “Stop! Thief!”

                Vince’s breath was ragged as he pounded through the dense forest. A rogue branch scratched at his face, but he didn’t so much as break stride. He needed to keep running if he had any hope of catching the dark-haired woman bounding ahead of him through the forest. A sudden slope nearly caught him off guard, but he managed to keep his footing and add the increase of momentum to his speed. As he burst out of the brush and saw the woman scrambling to get up, he realized that she hadn’t been quite so quick at catching the slope.

                “Stop!” Vince yelled.

                The young woman turned around, eyes wild as she hurried to regain her footing. The wince that raced across her face was well-hidden, but told Vince all he needed.

                “You sprained your ankle in that fall.” His voice came out worried, kind, a far cry from the demanding hollers he’d been belting at her.

                “Here’s an idea: fuck you,” the girl spat. “Why are you running me down, anyway?”

                “Because I saw you steal that man’s wallet,” Vince replied. “So I had to stop you.”

                “Oh, you have got to be fucking 
kidding
 me. A park full of people, and the only one who notices my lift is the one who thinks he’s a damned Hero.” She shuffled, changing position slightly. As she did, her foot knocked over a small glass jar sitting in the grass.