The Prospects (8 page)

“But she can’t go back to prison. She testified against her old gang. They'll kill her.”

“Back off. How do I know you’re not under her control?”

Charlene let go of Alex’s shirt. She gently pressed out the wrinkles. “If I’m under her control, why are you doing what she wants?”

Alex didn’t have an answer for that.

“Alex, listen. What happened in Griffin Tower was a mistake. Don’t make another one. Trust me. I can talk this out, or I can break bones, but I will not let Trista go back to jail.”

He picked up the smartphone. “All agents, stand down.”

Charlene took the smartphone. “Hi, boys. I’m an Air Force girl and I don’t know the bureau codes, so I’ll tell you what’s happening in plain English.”

The smartphone chirped. “Identify yourself.”

“I’m Charlene Smith, but you probably know me better as Lady Amazing.”

The agents did a double-take and nodded.

The phone chirped. “We’re big fans of yours.”

“How sweet. Listen, this is simply a misunderstanding. I took Trista Gianni here, your ‘wandering mind,’ to church. Check her file. She is on probation, but she is allowed off-premises excursions if supervised by a recognized superhero in good legal standing, which I certainly am.”

The phone chirped. “The wandering mind is required to wear a psychic nullifier.”

“And that is one hundred percent my fault. I haven’t seen Trista for a long time so I didn’t know she still had to, and she’s under the weather so she didn’t remember. Agent O’Farrell here tracked me down to let me know, and he’ll escort us back to the hospital.”

Alex took the smartphone back. “That nullifier should’ve been delivered two hours ago. What’s the hold-up?”

The smartphone chirped. “It’s on its way.”

Charlene took the smartphone. Alex recognized the way her eyes narrow. She always made that look when delivering the final blow in a fight.

“So, two ways we can do this,” she said.” We can spend hours filing out piles of paperwork, or we can let this go right now. It’s going to end the same. No one got hurt, and everything will back the way it was. Cool?”

The smartphone chirped. “As long as the wandering mind is returned to supervision, I think it’s best to report this as a false call.”

Charlene gave the smile that graced dozens of magazine covers. “Terrific. If there is anything else I can do for my favorite government agency, please let me know.”

The smartphone chirped. “Could I get an autograph? My daughter is a big fan of yours.”

Alex sat on the church steps for an uncomfortable few minutes while Charlene signed autographs for the agents.

Trista buried her face in her knees.

“Church, huh?” Alex said.

Trista didn’t raise her head. “When I tried to go with Jenny, Sarge said I was trying to escape.”

Alex flipped through the tablet. “Your first escape attempt was on a Sunday morning, two weeks ago, but your second was Wednesday night and makes it clear you were alone. What, you had to get to bingo?”

Trista didn’t reply.

As the vans drove away Charlene sat next to Trista. “Why is your hair so oily?”

“Sarge wouldn’t let me take the nullifier off.”

“Not even to shower?”

“Never.”

“But it’s in the terms of your probation that you can for hygiene. Why did you try to run away?”

Trista pointed at Alex. “He said he was going to make my life hell.”

“Alex, did you say that?”

“I said I would if you gave me a reason to,” said Alex.

“So you threatened her?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“He won’t forgive me,” said Trista. “I apologized, and he called me a liar.”

“Really?” Charlene said to Alex.

“Well, yeah, but Sarge said …”

“Sarge is an idiot. Whatever happened between him and her is over, and what happened between you and her is history. Let it go. Trista, Alex won’t make your life hell. Tell him what your goal is.”

Trista looked nervous. “I … I want to be my family again, without wearing a nullifier or being on probation.”

“Alex, do you have a problem with this?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “There’s a nurse in the hospital who’d like her ugly scrubs back.”

“Yes or no? Do you have a problem with her being back with her family?”

“No. I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Good. Come on, Trista. He needs to learn to trust you, and that can only happen if you trust him.”

Alex said, “Thanks for taking my side for once, Charlene.”

“This isn’t about sides, it’s about what’s best for everyone. Let’s head back to the hospital.”

As they walked Charlene said, “I’m so mad at Sarge. All my progress notes and suggestions for Trista’s rehabilitation, erased. All her probation privileges, ignored. Alex, isn’t it your job as an MAB agent to make sure us superheroes follow laws?”

“No one will care that Sarge was mean to a criminal,” said Alex. “The worst the MAB could do is ask Jim to fire him as the Prospects’ trainer, and that already happened. Filing a report now won’t even hurt his reputation.”

“Did you get a card when you joined the Good Ol’ Boys club?”

“Why do you have to make everything about sexism?”

“What would I know about sexism? I’m just a girl.”

“Sarge is old-fashioned.”

“When I joined the New York Guardians twenty years ago, he told me there were two places for me in the Griffin Tower, the kitchen and the secretary’s desk.”

“Sarge isn’t … he’s just not.”

“Emily met him. Why don’t you ask her opinion?”

Alex sighed. “Emily and I aren’t on speaking terms right now.”

“What?”

“We had a fight, some things were said I’d like to take back, she kicked me out. I ended up training the Prospects so I’d have a place to stay. Jim says we’re headed for divorce.”

“But you love her,” said Trista. “I mean, back in the research lab, you said that.”

Alex wanted to snap at Trista for getting involved, but didn’t want to upset Charlene. “It takes two people who feel that way for a marriage to work.”

“I like Emily,” said Charlene, “and your son is a cutie.”

“Usually, when we fight, it’s better after we sleep on it. I called her from the hospital, but she didn’t pick up. I still hope she’ll come around.”

“It’s hard being married and a superhero. If our spouses aren’t hostages, they’re neglected.”

“I’m lucky no one ever went after her.”

“It’s worse when superheroes marry each other. I still can’t believe Mindy went back to Harry after he hit her.”

“Neither can I. If I was with the team back then, I would’ve hit him with a dozen charges. But I saw how he cried at her funeral last year. There was love there.”

“I’m unlucky in love myself. Last man I met who I thought could take me to the altar turned out to be an agent for Le Parrain.”

“Who’s Le Parrain?” asked Trista.

“A French crime lord,” said Charlene. “His arthritic fingers are in almost every illegal racket or scheme to take over the world. Somehow, we never get close to him.”

Something buzzed. Charlene pulled out her smartphone. “Lady Amazing. Who? Where? I’m on my way.” She put the phone back in her pocket. “The police have some prison escapees cornered in the Bronx. They asked for my help to make the arrest.”

Alex said, “We still have to get Trista back to her room.”

“You can do it.”

“But she’s not wearing a nullifier.”

“Are you afraid, Alex?”

Alex almost said no, but it seemed pointless to lie. “Yes, I am. It’s reasonable not to want to be alone with someone who almost killed you.”

Charlene considered that. “See, Trista, Alex is being assertive. He’s saying what he feels and why. This is what I want you to do. ”

“That hasn’t worked well for me,” said Trista. “No one seems to care what I want.”

“You have to make yourself clear. Now that we know the problem, let’s make Alex feel less afraid.”

“But I was under the Idea Man’s control back then.”

“All the same, you hurt Alex. You have to own up to that. Swear on your grandmother’s rosary that you won’t hurt him again.”

Trista nodded. “I won’t. I swear.”

Charlene hugged Trista. “Don’t lose heart. I’m still your friend. If you need to talk, Alex has my number.” She stabbed her finger into Alex’s chest. “Take care of her. I don’t know what damage Sarge did, but you’re the only hero who can undo it. Now I gotta run. As soon as I find out what Le Parrain is up to, I’ll take over the Prospects again.”

Alex and Trista walked into the hospital and waited for the elevator without saying a word. Alex envisioned the sand mandala being formed and wiped away to warm up his psychic defense skills.

The exercises rebooted his mind. He felt no different than he did before.

He said, “Keep your head down. Don’t make eye contact with anyone.”

Trista entered the elevator without a word and stared at the buttons. As they ascended, Alex noticed Trista’s scrub shirt slip a little down her shoulder. There was a bite mark, two complete curved jagged lines bordering an ugly bruise.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” said Alex.

Trista said nothing.

“I should’ve taken the nullifier off. Or gotten you out of there. Or … I don’t know. No one deserves what that cyborg did to you. I really screwed up.”

Trista pressed the emergency stop button. Without looking at Alex, Trista said, “No. You don’t get to talk to me about that.”

“You should talk to someone.”

“I will. It won’t be you. Don’t act like you’re Saint Francis and I’m a broken-winged bird. Don’t talk about what happened. You have to give me this boundary.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. No one. I'll keep it confidential.”

Trista pressed the stop button again. The alarm stopped and the elevator ascended.

The new psychic nullifier was in the hospital room.

Trista went into the bathroom, undressed, and opened the door a crack to return the scrubs. Alex took them and said, “Wait.”

The door trembled as Trista hid behind it. Her gulp echoed through the bathroom.

Alex handed Trista bottles of shampoo and conditioner from the nurse’s cart.

“Emily would go crazy if she couldn’t wash her hair for two weeks,” he said.

Without a word, Trista snatched the small bottles and closed the door so quickly it almost slammed.

Alex dressed the nurse without waking her. He woke her by saying, “The patient’s taking a long shower. You waited so long you passed out.”

“Oh no,” said the nurse. “These double-shifts will be the death of me.”

Alex sat on the bed and held the psychic nullifier. It was heavy and the inside padding barely gave any protecting from the lead and magnet inserts. He wore one of these in training and found it very uncomfortable – it was heavy and the magnets gave him a constant headache. He couldn’t wait to take it off.

He couldn’t imagine wearing it for weeks without taking it off. That had to be painful. Despite what Trista had done to him, it seemed cruel.

There was a message on his phone. Emily? No, it was Jim: “Where are you? Get back to Griffin Tower right now!”

Trista tugged at the oversized blue sweatshirt and scrub pants she got from the hospital. “I can’t wait to get out of this. It smells like mothballs.”

“It looks better than those balloon scrubs you stole,” said Alex.

Those were the only words they exchanged as they returned to the basement of Griffin Tower.

Jim was waiting for them. He had an envelope and a bottle of scotch in the hand not holding a cane.

“Couldn’t leave the bottle in the office?” said Alex.

“It’s not for me.” Jim nodded at Trista. “You, little lady, are on full lockdown effective immediately. No trips off of the premises for any reason without my explicit orders, no phone or internet, and no alone time. You’ll need to be watched by another Prospect when Alex isn’t around.”

“If this is about earlier today,” said Alex, “it was a misunderstanding. Charlene was with her the whole time. Nothing happened.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying there’s no reason to punish her.”

“I’m not being punitive, I’m being protective. Remember the jailbreak last night?”

“Why?”

“The Idea Man, the boss of the Ultra-Geniuses, is still unaccounted for. We think he escaped.”

Trista shivered. “I didn’t know. I swear.”

“He might try to put the old gang back together again. Every imprisoned Ultra-Genius is being moved into maximum security settings, and police throughout the nation have APBs for the ones at large. He can make psychic contact without making eye contact, so he could get you before you see him.”

“I won’t go back to him.”

“You may not have a choice, honey. I read the paraneurological reports before I accepted your probation deal. His psionic residue is in every wrinkle of your brain. That guy had more control over you than Charles Manson did over Squeaky Fromme.”

“Who?”

“Google them later. Oh wait, no internet. Ask someone. Alex, pick her new roommate.”

Trista said, “I want Jenny.”

“Fine,” said Alex.

“She’s the only one who …”

“I said fine, you don’t have to convince me.”

“That reminds me,” said Jim. “Tell Jenny her request to leave the team is rejected. We need all hands on deck. She can ask again when things cool down.”

“Jenny asked to leave?” said Alex.

“And Deon’s request to transfer to the west coast branch is also suspended pending your approval. The rest of the Prospects can’t leave Griffin Tower without my permission, not even the stupid girl with stupid hair who’s always running out for something. If they do, I'll have them put in jail until everything calms down again and then blacklisted from the superhero community. The only time they’ll wear costumes again is Halloween.”

“Is that really necessary?” Alex asked.

“Yes, it is. What happened the last night was weird. A jailbreak, a hostage situation, and a raid on Griffin Tower is more action than we see in a busy month. It’s like our enemies coordinated it.”

“I’m surprised they never teamed up before,” said Alex.

“They each have their own agendas. Some want to be rich, some want world domination, some want to kill all humans, some only want to smash. Psychopaths don’t give each other passes, so they usually spend as much time fighting each other as they do us. I don’t know why there’s so much more activity right now, but I have every available hero doing something to find out. Even the reserves are pounding the pavement.”

“As soon as your nerds fix my exoskeleton, I can help out again.”

Jim winced. “That’s another problem. We did inventory … your exoskeleton is gone.”

“What?”

“When the Iron Pirates, someone snuck into the bunker. We think it was the Shade Blades. Remember them, the ninjas in camouflaging suits? We stopped them from looting the MoMA last year. God knows how they got through to the basement, but ...”

“My exoskeleton’s gone?”

“I’m pretty sure I just said that.”

“Doesn’t it have a homing beacon? You used that to find me in the ocean once.”

“The beacon’s transponder was the only part not taken. They left it on the floor.”

“But you have older prototypes, right? Can I wear one of those?”

“We used those for spare parts when you got a piece of the original destroyed. There’s not enough left to put together a new exoskeleton, and it’d take months of tweaking to get the bugs out if we did.”

Alex shook his head. “My exoskeleton … gone.”

“So you’re out of commission for a while.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Keep training those kids. Whether they’re fighters or fodder in our next battle depends on you, and the next battle could be tomorrow.”

“You’re going to send them into battle?”

“We may not have a choice. Things could get desperate.”

“I’ll do my best, but I don’t have much to work with.”

“Do what you must. Submit an expense report for anything you need. Oh, there’s one thing you must do.” Jim handed Alex an envelope with a phone number written on it. “Call Alan Rosenberg right away. Drop my name. He’ll give you a discount.”

“Who’s he?”

“My favorite lawyer.”

“Why?”

“Open the envelope. Those are divorce papers. Emily already signed them and put little X’s where you should sign.”

Alex opened the envelope. Jim was right. “You just served me?”

“As your friend, I can legally do that in this state.” Jim put the bottle of scotch on the ground. “Here’s my favorite medicine. Call if you need more.”

As Jim limped away Alex pulled out his smartphone and pressed a button.

A woman said, “Hello?”

“Emily? What are you doing?”

“Sign the papers.”

“You’re leaving me?”

A pause. “Sign the papers.”

“Can we talk about this?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I spent too many days not knowing where you were or if you’re coming back. I’m tired of spending the little bit of time you’re home fighting I don’t need any more midnight phone calls from the hospital.”

“But I wasn’t hurt.” He rubbed the bandage around his neck. “Not too badly.”

“That’s beside the point. I don’t want to worry about losing my husband and Calvin losing his father anymore. I just can’t take it.”

“I had to save lives.”

“But you didn’t save your family. You were gone too many times when we needed you. When I tried to tell you that, you stormed out again. This isn’t getting better. It won’t get better. Calvin deserves a father who will be there for him, and I don’t think you can be that man.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. You knew I was a superhero when we got married.”

“I didn’t think that suit, excuse me, that exoskeleton, was more important to you than me. But you made your choice.”

“The exoskeleton’s gone.”

“So is our marriage.”

“Please, don’t do this. It’s the worst possible time.”

“There will never be a good time. Goodbye.” Emily hung up.

Alex redialed the number. It went straight to voicemail. “Goddamn it!” Alex threw the phone into the wall. The clack of the faceplate breaking echoed.

Trista jumped back in fear.

Alex turned. He forgot she was there. “Go find Jenny.”

Trista nodded.

Alex added, “And don’t tell anyone about this.”

“You should talk to someone.”

“I’ve got Johnnie Walker right here.” Alex picked up the bottle and slammed the door to his room.

Trista picked up his smartphone. Through the spiderweb cracks in the glass, she saw the picture of Alex and a pregnant woman with curly chestnut hair against a background of green leaves. Alex looked happy in that picture. The woman looked happy too.

She remembered what he said about missing his son’s birth. That was the day she made Alex try to kill himself. Her memory of saying “They’re better off without you” felt particularly bitter.

She did it, she knew she did. It felt like something she did in a nightmare, an action that made perfect sense in an insane place.

But it happened. She could hate herself for doing it, but she couldn't take back what she did.

The screen locked, showing a new picture of the chestnut-haired woman holding a cute little boy. The boy’s sparse hair was the same color as Alex’s. The woman and the baby looked happy, but in a way Trista couldn’t describe Alex seemed sadder than he did in the older picture.

Trista gently laid the phone at Alex’s door.

The next morning, Alex held the bottle upside down. His numb tongue felt a little warmth when he licked the last drops.

Someone knocked.

“Agent O’Farrell?” said Vijay. “Are you coming out for training?”

“I’ll be out at eight.”

“It’s ten-thirty.”

Alex patted the nightstand. His hangover made every movement hurt. “Where’s my phone?”

“It’s out here,” said Vijay.

The broken bar of light under the door stung Alex’s eyes.

“Call Jim.”

“Who?”

“Mister Griffin. Tell him I need more … medicine.”

“But what about training?”

“Do what you did under Sarge.”

“What about our personal training sessions in the afternoon?”

All the yelling made Alex’s headache worse. “I don’t care. Watch TV.”

Vijay left.

Alex spent the next hour neither asleep nor awake but still in bed. He thought of a thousand things to say to Emily. He came up with a dozen reasons why he was better off without her. He made a hundred reasons why she should take him back. He thought about Calvin. Would he ever see him again? How much longer would Jim need him now that the suit was gone? How could he pay alimony if he lost his job?

Was this his life now - sleeping in a basement, living out a suitcase, surrounded by a sorry excuse for a superhero team he ever saw? How did so many years of work lead to this? He spent hundreds of hours training in an exoskeleton that was now in the hands of supervillains. If he had spent that time with Emily, they’d still be together.

Maybe.

Someone knocked.

“Leave the bottle,” said Alex.

A man with a deep Texan drawl said, “You gonna open up or should I tell Jim to send Sarge down?”

The threat of Sarge motivated Alex to find his feet. He opened the door and squinted against the light at the sinewy man. Silver and violet segments in his armored bodysuit stood out against the dim light.

Alex grabbed at the bottle of scotch in the man’s hand. “Not in the mood to play, Bart.”

Arbalest moved the bottle out of Alex’s reach and stepped into the room. “Neither am I. I’m the best crossbowman in the world, the legendary Arbalest of the New York Guardians in full costume, delivering your booze. There are many better ways I could be spending my time. For example, did you know the Hell’s Kitchen Helpers got beat up last night? They won’t be useful as reservists for a while. I’d rather track down whoever did that than be your personal bartender.”

Alex made another grab at the bottle. Bart threw it straight in the air and caught it behind his back. “Did I tell you I used to be in a juggling troupe?”

“A hundred times,” said Alex.

Arbalest juggled the bottle and Alex’s smartphone. “I miss those days. A fella gets to know who he is on the road, setting up somewhere new every few days. Everything you run into is a little conflict. You get a little more damaged, but it makes you more defined, kind of like the wind does to the mountains. Ever wonder if that hurts the mountains so badly they want to drink their troubles away? You think about that on long trips between gigs.”

Arbalest flipped on the light switch. He caught Alex’s smartphone but not the bottle of scotch, which shattered on the floor. “

Oops. Guess I don’t have the touch anymore.”

Alex shielded his eyes. “Bart, you asshole!”

“First, it’s Arbalest when I’m in costume. Second, Jim asked me to bring the bottle down. He never said I had to give it to you. Why don’t you call Jim so Sarge can bring down another bottle for you? Here’s your phone. It was cracked when I found it outside your door.”

Alex sighed. “Sarge would pick me up by the ear, throw me in the shower, and call me something so nasty I’d never forget it.”

“Good. Pretend I did that. So here’s what’s going to happen. As we used to say in the juggling troupe, the show must go on, no matter how dog-tired everyone is.”

“We aren’t jugglers.”

“No, we’re the New York Guardians. The only thing stronger than our combined powers is our individual egos. We're the people who save the world but can't stand being in the same room with each other. And we already have one guy without a suit who’s drunk, divorced, and depressed, we don’t need two.”