Super Powereds: Year 2

by Drew Hayes

“I knew you’d come back,” Vince said, shaking his friend’s hand. “Believe it or not, after living with you nut jobs, Vegas felt . . . boring.” Nick spat that last word, wiping his tongue across his teeth to scrape away the bad taste that accompanied it. “Whatever you say,” Vince agreed.

“Whew. I am getting old. That almost left me winded,” he said. Professor Pendleton, standing amidst the others who had acted as audience to the assault, struggled to keep the look of amazement off his face as he spoke to the now nearly empty room. “Is this a good slow clap moment? Because it kind of feels like a good slow clap moment.”

“You want some cheese with that whine?” Mary said snidely. “No, but I would like some original content in your insults,” Nick shot back. “I’m just saying, electricity can have long term effects. What if it had screwed with my nervous system, or worse, dulled my rapier wit?” “We’d finally have proof of a just and loving God?” Alice ventured.

“Oh no, please, please, please be joking,” Mary’s soft voice implored. “Come on, how else should we celebrate our return to Lander than by engaging in our traditional form of revelry?” “Literally, I mean literally, anything else,” Alice said. “Fine then. Whipped cream orgy it is.” “Is it sad that I’d almost prefer that to more slasher flicks?” Mary asked. “At this point, no,” Vince agreed as he opened the Melbrook front door.

“I’m sorry we’re a bit late, there were a few final loose ends to wrap up before we were able to return. I trust you had a good orientation?” “Good? Why, it was downright . . . shocking.” It’s hard to say who threw the first light punch into Nick’s shoulder for that awful pun, but it was easily observable that everyone joined in before he cried out for mercy.

“Well, glad as we all are to see you, we were already deep in a discussion about how to spend our evening,” Nick said, steering the conversation back toward his original goal. “Uggggh.” The groan came from both the gathered students and, if one were listening quite carefully, was slightly augmented by a small contribution from the pursed lips of Mr. Numbers.

He drank a glass of water and eyed the small white pills in front of him. It was ludicrous to him that he could transform into living lightning, fight off an entire room of young bucks, and yet his doctor was still lecturing him on the importance of monitoring his cholesterol. It seemed like a horrible prank perpetrated on him by the cosmos.

Nick did know—that is to say he truly understood—the value of information, however. And that merely goes to show how misplaced the fears of others were, because that trait alone made Nick Campbell one of the most dangerous men in all of the school.

“We have a weekend before us, so I say we do a little team-building event.” “I swear to God, if you say the words ‘horror movie,’ I’m going to forcibly remove your baby-making equipment,” Alice said.

“I kept thinking that by limiting my power intake, I was keeping everyone else safe. I was so scared of losing control that I purposely kept myself as weak as possible. But if you hadn’t stirred up the whole campus, I doubt George and Persephone could have slipped off with our friends, and in that whole fiasco, I realized something important: I can’t keep anyone safe if I’m weak. I have to get past my fear of losing control and start using my power to its limit, and then some. If I really want to keep everyone safe, then I’ve got to be stronger than everyone and everything else,” Vince explained. “So, for that lesson, I sincerely do want to thank you.”

“I’d hope so. I mean, with what’s on the line and all,” Nick baited. “What do you mean?” Alex bit. “Didn’t I mention? There’s a prize if you manage to complete your lists by midnight. Since it has been brought to my attention that you philistines don’t enjoy slasher cinema with the same gusto I possess . . . if you can bring me your pictures by midnight, I’ll swear never to hijack our events into horror movie marathons again.” “Wait, seriously?” Alice said, light and hope sparkling in her eyes. “I swear it on my love of sarcasm,” Nick replied. “But if you fail, we’ll be spending tomorrow in a day-long fright flick fest.”

“Then tomorrow will begin the slasher marathon to end all slasher marathons,” Nick finished. “Wait, you’re really going to make us do that? I thought it was just a threat so we’d work harder,” Alex said. “Oh no, I always honor my bets,” Nick informed him. “Besides, if there are no consequences to failure, then the lessons just don’t take as well.” Vince turned to Camille. “If you want to jump ship to another group, I bet there’s still time.”

After Nick’s movie marathon on Sunday, he’d slept incredibly poorly. His dreams had been stuffed with monsters to the point where they’d slipped into the absurd. Case in point: one dream had him chased by a giant pumpkin wielding knives, while a later dream had him chased by a giant knife wielding pumpkins. The first had been scarier, yet curiously, it was the second that jerked him from his slumber.

Over a year of experience in combat had honed his battle perceptions nicely, allowing him to appreciate the mixed martial arts match on a more detailed level than the average spectator. Of course, what he appreciated the most was that, for once, he was watching someone else get knocked around instead of filling that role himself.

“Alex, I know the image Nick gives off: that he is an irreverent, uncaring, sunglass-wearing douchebag slacker who is just here wasting everyone’s time,” Alice said. “I feel that was a little excessive,” Nick complained. “But,” Alice continued, ignoring Nick’s protests, “we four know him better than anyone else. We lived with him for the past year and fought against Coach George with him. The fact that we’re totally on board with Mary’s suggestion should tell you that there is more to him than gelled hair and a sack of shit where his heart should be.” “Okay, that one was just mean,” Nick spoke up again. “Alice is right,” Vince agreed. “Dude!”

“I’d like to start with a simple overview of our chances at this given moment, and with the most recent knowledge of Britney’s team that I have . . .” Nick paused and thought of how to best articulate his message in order to convey a firm grasp of the situation to his teammates: “To put it succinctly: we’re fucked.”

“Really? You’re going waste my time with the innocent routine?” “Never admit to any crime until you know what you’re being charged with,” Nick replied, his body language relaxed and his smile unwavering.

“You’re hilarious. Seriously, I get the feeling that narrow frame is hiding more muscle than a person would guess.” “That is sexual harassment, and I’m telling Hershel.” “You know, I don’t have to let you lean on me.” “No one is perfect; I guess I can let it slide this once,” Nick backtracked quickly.

“I bet. You’re quite an amazing girl, you know that?” “It might have come up in conversation a few times,” Mary said, her tone playful, but her smile genuine. “You’re not too shabby yourself.” “Meh, I’m a nerd who can turn into someone awesome. That makes me less interesting and more a homework jockey for my alter ego.”

“What about condiments?” Hershel suggested. “They have ketchup, mayo, and mustard costumes.” “There are two problems with that. First, we’d look ridiculous. Second, we aren’t a trio of gay polygamists, so we don’t need to be dressing in theme,” Nick said. “A ‘no’ probably would have conveyed that just as well,” Vince scolded.

“I believe we can get sandwiches from The Mayo Hut at a sizable discount, thanks to the owner’s infatuation with my sister.” “Pimping your own sister to the cause, that’s dedication,” Stella said. “It is something of a family tradition to place one another in uncomfortable positions,” Will replied.

“I’m relatively certain Mr. Transport won’t leave without me,” Hershel said, turning his attention back to the clothes. “I think he’s scared of my mom.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Daniels,” Vince said politely. The seemingly docile woman had threatened him with extensive bodily harm if he dared try to spend Christmas on his own the way he had last year. He often wondered how a single woman could exude both fastidious decorum and soul-rending intimidation. Had he grown up in the south, he would have understood.

“Did Mom wear glitter?” Charles laughed, but not with his business appropriate laugh or his boys’ club laugh or even his polite disapproval laugh. Charles Adair let out a genuine expelling of mirth. Alice couldn’t remember ever hearing anything quite like it before. “She wore glitter all the damned time. I can scarcely remember a day when she didn’t have some on. I tried to get her to ease up a little; it got on everything and was impossible to scrub away. She refused, of course. She used to tell me, ‘Glitter is a form of anti-depressant, because it is impossible to be sad when you twinkle.’”

“But she never told any of us when her birthday was,” Vince defended lamely. “She never tells anyone,” Violet countered. “She doesn’t do anything to draw attention to herself. You’ve worked with her for a half a year, and you didn’t notice that? We found out by invading her privacy and prying into her life, just like good friends should.”

“Too bad. Most girls dig a man who can cook,” Violet pointed out. “Lord knows I do,” Stella agreed. “I hate that domestic shit, I want to come home and have my meal hot and waiting for me. Maybe with a nice martini on the side.” “So you want to be a man in the fifties, in a sitcom?” Nick asked. “Pretty much.”

“I don’t know. Some people actually enjoy the spotlight and the attention.” “Oh, if it’s about being an attention whore, then Nick will probably be up there before we even order our food,” Alice predicted. “Funny. Sorry to disappoint, Princess, but not even a river of booze could get me up there. Being genetically tone-deaf means I can’t carry a tune any more than Vince could use the popcorn setting on the microwave.” “I feel like this is getting mean,” Vince objected.

“Because you always call me Princess, and nothing would cheer your vile little heart more than seeing someone you consider high society doing menial labor.”

“I don’t know what you usually watch, but I brought action, comedy, sci-fi, horror—” “Anything but horror,” Vince said immediately. “Oh yeah, I forgot about Nick’s slasher marathons.” “Then consider yourself extremely lucky,” Vince shot back, reaching out and grabbing a handful of chips himself.

Dealing with bureaucrats made him miss his Hero days—back then, someone trying to get information out of you only involved a few bouts of light torture. In business, things were not nearly so civilized.

“You know, if you’re going to stage an intervention, I think you need more than two people,” Nick pointed out. “Can you throw an intervention because someone is a douche? Damn, I’d have put one together for you in our first week if I’d known that,” Alice countered.

“I had faith that, at some point, you’d set me up, especially at a nice social setting,” Alice replied. “I did have a backup plan in case you didn’t, though.” “What’s that?” “I was going to sleep with you.” She gave him a wide smile and a wink. “Real funny.” “Yeah, it is. Especially if I’m telling the truth, and you accidently traded it away for a poorly cleaned bathroom.” Alice gave him another smile, this one far less festive and vastly more desirable. It came with softly tilted eyes and just a slight flush to her cheeks. Nick stumbled, his feet going stupid as his brain kicked into overdrive. By the time he recovered, Alice was cackling freely at his expense.

“A king will always beat a two,” Nick said. “It doesn’t matter what game you play. It’s a given; no one expects any different.” “I’m missing your point.” Nick stopped walking toward the door and stared at Chad. Despite the sunglasses, Chad could feel Nick’s eyes boring into him. “A king will always beat a two. The difference between them is so great that it should be as effortless as killing a bug. You beat me, there’s no question about that. But you didn’t do it all that easily. What my team, and yours, just saw was a two managing to keep pace with a king. They just saw the weakest member of the HCP force the strongest to really work for an unsatisfying victory. Now, you tell me, do you think something that impossible has my team feeling particularly demoralized? Or do you think it made them believe that if lowly, little old me can do something so impossible, that we might have a real shot at winning this thing?” Chad took a moment before speaking. “You are much more dangerous than I expected.” Nick smiled and began walking again. “This is only the first match. Wait ‘til you see what I do with the others.”

“That’s why you don’t deserve to be with Vince. Things got tough, and you ran away.” “He lied to me.” “Boo-fucking-hoo. You made him feel like shit and broke his heart. He got through it, though, because Vince is more like me than you. He’s been weak. He’s been battered. He always gets back up. And so will I. So do your worst, bitch. It won’t change the fact that you blew it with the best man—hell, the best person—either of us will ever meet.” The words were barely out of her mouth before Sasha’s punch collided with her teeth. This time, she didn’t stop when Camille went down; instead, she kept pressing the attack, smashing her opponent’s face and body over and over again. “Enough.” Professor Fletcher’s voice blared through the room. “The winner of this match is Sasha Foster.” “Hear that?” Sasha said, still clutching the small girl’s jacket collar in her hand. “I won.” Camille looked back at her, then past her to something over Sasha’s shoulder. Despite her face being coated in blood, a smile was still visible on Camille’s busted lips. “Did you?” Sasha turned to follow Camille’s gaze. What stared back at her was Vince, watching from the team room with an expression Sasha had never seen on his face before—horror. Horror, mixed with disgust. And all of it aimed directly at her.

“So that makes us a team of losers?” “I prefer to think of it as a team of people who have had ample opportunity to build character through adversity.” “Classy,” Alice complimented.

Hershel reared back and struck his father in the jaw with all the strength he had. It was a futile gesture: most Heroes couldn’t have put down this powerhouse. Still, sometime later, when Roy finally regained control of the body, he would look back on this memory and, despite all the other negative emotions that would be rolling through him at the time, feel a tremendous sense of brotherly pride.

It was hectic. It was disorganized. It was highly irresponsible. In short, it was exactly what everyone needed.

Sooner or later, people would show themselves for what they were. Still, if Vince was lucky enough to believe he was surrounded by friends, there was no need to shatter his delusion. For now, at least, he could be happy.

“So far, so good,” Mary said. “No one is dead, we’ve hydrated them enough to avoid alcohol poisoning, and the tents are up without anything being lit on fire,” Chad recounted. “So far,” Mary pointed out. “So far,” Chad agreed.

“I’d say you’re probably wondering why I’m here, but since it’s you, I bet you already know.” “Sexual ravishing?” “You always swing for the fences, I’ll give you that,” Alice replied.

“You aren’t very quiet when you run,” Thomas observed. “Nope,” Roy agreed. “I suppose that means they didn’t give you an orb.” “Go figure, they didn’t think I would do a good job of staying hidden.” “You’re going to tell me which of your teammates has it.” Roy flashed Thomas an upside down grin. “You’re welcome to make me try, but I gotta warn you: I’ve gotten a lot stronger since the last time anyone saw me fight.” “You don’t say.” Thomas gathered his internal energy and prepared for the impending battle. Roy was a powerful opponent; he always had been. But unbeknownst to Roy, his team didn’t have a monopoly on people finding new ways to use their skills.

“Are you going to tell me what the plan is?” “Make an offering to Nyarlathotep, one of the ancient dark gods of the abyss, to come and challenge Zeus for the throne. I figure if one god is real, why not others? While they duke it out, I hightail myself to safety. Then avoid Naples for the rest of my life.” “I meant what’s the plan for if Vince loses?” “Oh, I’m not going to share that one,” Nick said. “You’d hate it, anyway. Far too much of a long shot.”

Had he known it was coming, Vince probably could have dodged her punch. As it was, it struck him squarely in the jaw, leaving him with watering eyes of his own. “Fuck you! Fuck you for doing that! Fuck you for taking that risk! Fuck you for . . . FUCK YOU!” Camille was shaking, and her face was red, but for once, it had nothing to do with embarrassment. “You could have died, you idiot. If you’d passed out from pain or smoke inhalation, you could have burned to death under that branch. Did you even think of that? I can’t heal the dead, you goddamned pigheaded moron. We’d have been fine; we’d have survived.” “I would have been eliminated,” Vince said softly, avoiding her eyes. “If I don’t give them some reason to keep me, if I go down again, I won’t come back next year.” This time, Vince did see it coming, but he purposely didn’t avoid it. Camille slapped him on the cheek with all her might, adding to the already noticeable pain in his jaw. “So what! You’d have moved on. There is life after Lander. But you can’t help anyone if you die. You can’t be there for the people you care about in any capacity, Hero or otherwise. Did you think about that? Did you really consider the consequences for everyone else while selfishly risking your life for some stupid job? Life doesn’t end if you get kicked out. Life definitely ends if you burn yourself to death in some dumbass escape attempt. The next time you do anything like that, I’m not going to heal you. I’ll pull you back from death, ...

That smoking ruin was less eye-catching than Vince himself—at least, the Vince they could see once their eyes adjusted to the sudden increase in light. Vince, or Vince as they knew him, was gone. In his place stood a wraith of fire, a human shape exuding continuous flames from his body. Columns of fire lanced the ground in front of him, creating a charred and burning landscape that would be treacherous even for most of these Supers to cross. Electricity crackled at his fingertips, dancing along his digits in a malicious foxtrot of anticipation. For most, that was all they saw. For the poor few with gifts of vision, they were able to catch a glimpse of more. They could pierce the flames and see the face of the young man working to burn the world, and what lay on his visage was nothing that gave them comfort. Vince was not regretful, nor worried, nor fearful of what was to come. Vince was eager. Furiously eager. He couldn’t wait for them to come closer. The fire was only the beginning. He wanted to show them the rest.

“You all know what to do.” “Kick ass until the bell sounds or we’re all knocked out,” Roy surmised, pulling himself back up and dashing off toward a cluster of opponents still recovering their wits. “I do love his enthusiasm,” Nick remarked. “He does have spunk,” Alex concurred.

She was truly beautiful: he could finally admit that to himself. It wasn’t just the golden hair, the stunning body, or the wide blue eyes. It was her tenacity. Alice had turned from a spoiled princess into a determined warrior, and she’d done it mostly through her own gumption and relentlessness. He admired that. He adored that. He was going to miss that.

With that, she closed the gap, and for the first time in over a year, they were kissing. It was slower than last time, less frantic than in Alice’s intoxicated attack. This wasn’t a kindling, or a beginning. This was a kiss goodbye.